Author's Note: I don't own any of the Doctor Who characters. Just another twit who can't be trusted with a keyboard and an internet connection.
TK: Your reviews always make my day! :D Also, at least he didn't blow up her job, this time. Everyone: Thanks so much for your continued support! Any writer's job is to tell a good story, and you keep me in track!
"Feelin' any better?" The Doctor asked, amiably, now that they were off the airship. They were walking along the banks of the Thames several hundred yards outside the chain-link fence that bordered the London sky harbor. He'd found a white knit hat with a small brim in front to hide at least part of her face as long as she kept her head low. Danger or no, he himself refused to wear one.
"Well," Rose began, hands shoved deep in the warm wool pockets and breath misting in the chill spring morning air, "I reek of blood, sweat, and gin. My right hand aches somethin' fierece, my left arm is burnin', and I'm wearin' a 2,000 quid wool coat over cargo pants and army boots. So, all in all, brilliant." She grinned up at him, and he realized she was being perfectly genuine.
"Mad, you are," he chuckled, "So, where we headed?"
"What, I have to think of everything around here?"
"It's your rescue mission," he beamed.
"Useless. Completely useless," she scoffed, "Well, we need to get home, but my parents can't help. They'll be watchin' for our cars, any of the servant's cars, too, after Wilf leant me the Land Rover. We could try to steal one, but we'll likely only find smart cars 'round this city. We'll be caught before we can leave the neighborhood. There is one option…"
"Well, what? What is it?" the Doctor asked after she let the sentence drop.
"Mickey. The one who supervised your capture. The one I hit…"
"No."
"They won't suspect him. They won't be watchin' him or his house after I clocked 'im like that."
"No," The Doctor insisted, his face stony. Any humor he'd had was lost.
"Well, that's all I've got," Rose scolded, "If you have any better ideas, I'm glad to hear 'em." They walked some way in tense silence.
"S'there no one else?" The Doctor finally asked. His tone was grim but resigned. Rose thought, wracking her brain. Nearly all her friends and acquaintances, all those of her parents, were most certainly being watched. Then, it came to her, and she stopped short. The Doctor was a pace or two ahead when he noticed and he stopped and turned. The look on her face was by turns anxious, pained, and knowing.
"One. Maybe," She said softly, "There might be one they won't be watchin'."
"What were you thinkin' comin' here?" Tom had been more than a little surprised to wander down to his kitchen that morning and find his ex sneaking about the back yard with some strange navvy in tow. Still, he'd allowed them inside and offered them tea. He was nothing if not British.
"I'm sorry, Tom," Rose insisted, "I'd never come to you if I felt I had another choice." The Doctor, quite smartly, had kept his mouth shut ever since she said she knew where they could go, and he remained silent, now, sipping his tea.
"This is the bloke, innit?" he gestured toward the silent Doctor, "The one who got pinched from your birthday party."
"Yes," Rose admitted.
"And that was a Torchwood Tac Team." Tom continued. He and Martha had both left Torchwood after things fell apart. Rose had been thankful that when she lost her husband and her best friend, at least she'd been able to keep Torchwood.
"Yes, it was."
"And you sprung 'im, I take it, and brought 'im here."
"That's about the size of it," Rose pursed her lips and averted her gaze to the cup of tea in her hand.
"Tom?" came a voice from the top of the stairs, "Who is it? Who's here?"
"It's best you stay upstairs love. No need to worry yourself."
"Bugger that," Martha appeared, descending the stairs with careful steps. She was wrapped in a silk bathrobe, her advanced pregnancy clearly growing cumbersome. "Rose…"
"Yeah," Rose admitted, "S'me."
"And your friend?" Martha asked, having reached the bottom of the stairs. The three people at the table were silent a moment.
"I'm The Doctor," himself finally said, perhaps the first words he'd spoken in an hour. He was sure that was a new record.
"The Doctor?" Martha asked, "The Doctor?"
"Sort of," Rose hedged. Tom rose and helped his wife into a chair at the table before crossing to island to pour her tea. Martha just stared at the Doctor a moment.
"You told her?" The Doctor asked.
"Quiet, you." Rose said curtly before addressing Martha, "He's not my Doctor. He belongs to this universe."
"But I thought you said they didn't exist, here. The Time Lords, that is." Martha whispered.
"We were wrong. I guess they've just been a bit more – discreet, here," Rose shrugged. The Doctor thought to make a crack about how relatively unremarkable their planet was, about how it was the "Deep South" of planets and most species wouldn't even stop for fuel, but wisely decided to keep it to himself. Meanwhile, Tom set Martha's tea in front of her and reclaimed his seat.
"So," Tom commenced, "What is it you want, Rose?"
"The TARDIS, his ship, that is, it's parked in my closet."
"There's a spaceship parked in your closet?" Martha asked, smiling, now.
"Yeah, it's hard to explain," Rose smiled back, "But, they're watchin' my parents. Torchwood, that is. We need transport."
"You're mad," Tom scoffed, "What makes you think we'll help you."
"Tom…" Martha placed a hand on his arm.
"No," Tom continued, "This is beyond, Rose. Far beyond. We've built a home, Rose, we've a child on the way, and you show up with a target on your forehead? You're lucky I don't call Torchwood right now."
"Then why don't you, Tom?" Rose cut in, "Why didn't you call them when you saw me and 'im hidin' behind the planter? Look, I know we've had our differences, but I promise I'm not here out of – revenge or something. I'm here because I've nowhere else to go. I'm here because I have to get him back to his ship, because Torchwood made a terrible mistake and they've set a path I can't allow them to follow. Martha," Rose looked at her friend, "I would never, ever do anything to put you in harm's way. I hope you know that. You can report the car stolen, throw me under the bus, I don't care. I just need a chance to get him home. Keep him out of Torchwood's hands."
"This is ridiculous," Tom protested, though weakly.
"The Ducati," Martha said, now smiling with that determined glint in her eye that Rose knew all too well, "Take the motorbike. There's no GPS, it's quicker dodgin' through traffic, and the helmets'll hide your faces. Well, then again, they might not fit on over those ears…"
"Oi!" The Doctor protested.
"Hey, all things considered, I think I get a shot or two in." Martha grinned.
"Martha!" Tom protested.
"Can it, Tom," Marth interrupted, then, she smiled apologetically, "Sorry, love, but seriously, can it." Martha pushed herself laboriously to her feet. Tom made a move to help, but she swatted him away, "Go get the helmets," she ordered, then, turning to Rose, "You two, come with me." Rose and The Doctor glanced at each other before rising from the table and following Martha through the front room and into the garage. The Ducati was parked in the back corner, and Martha pulled the dusty tarp off.
"Right," Martha addressed them, coughing, "You going to be good drivin' with that?" She gestured toward Rose's cast. Rose cringed.
"Not so much. We may have to cut it off. Any saws in here?" Rose looked around the racks of tools against the wall.
"Don't be stupid. If I can operate a spacecraft that also travels in time, I can drive a bloody motorbike," The Doctor insisted. Rose looked at him critically. "What?"
"In my experience, you're a terrible driver."
"I'm not him, Rose," his grin was a tad condescending. Just a tad.
"How'd you end up in my closet?" Rose asked, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow.
"Point taken." The Doctor allowed, "You navigate."
"How's that, then?"
"Tap my left elbow when we need to go left, right when we need to go right. Simple." The Doctor grinned. Just then, Tom came into the garage carrying two full coverage motorcycle helmets.
"They don't have mics," Tom explained, "So you won't be able to talk to each other." He shot a questioning glance toward Martha, but she just smiled at him.
"Right," Rose said, taking a helmet from him. She fiddled with the straps a bit, avoiding his gaze, before looking up at him, "Thank you, Tom." He only nodded. The Doctor took his helmet with a nod of acknowledgement before crossing over to the bike and mounting up.
"Here," Tom said, taking the key from his pocket, but the Doctor pulled out the sonic screwdriver and grinned.
"No need. Plausible deniability," Within moments the engine turned over and Martha pressed the button to open the garage door.
"We have to report it stolen," Tom informed them over the thrum of the engine, "We'll give you fifteen, and we have to call it in."
"Understood," The Doctor nodded. Rose approached her old friend.
"Thank you," she said softly, "You've no idea…" Before she could finish, Martha pulled her into a massive hug.
"I've missed you," Martha admitted, "You'll always be my best friend, always. I had to give you a chance. Just don't mess this up." As they pulled away, Rose looked at her quizzically. "You know what I mean," Martha smiled.
"I'm quite sure I've no idea." Rose dismissed, "But thank you." Crossing over to where the Doctor waited on the bike, she pulled the pins from her bun and let her hair fall before sliding the helmet on. The Doctor offered his elbow for support and she mounted the bike, tucking her feet back against the foot bars.
"Ready?" he looked over his shoulder. Rose nodded and wrapped her arms around his midsection. The Doctor turned his attention to the couple standing by the door leading into the house. "Thanks," he said simply, "I'll try to make it up to you,"
"Please, don't" Martha teased, "I know all about you." The Doctor smiled, slid on his helmet, and revved the engine. Within moments they were gone.