PLEASE FORGIVE THE SHAMELESS ROMANTICISM OF THIS CHAPTER. I KNOW WE HAD SOMETHING SIMILAR AT THE BEGINNING, BUT I WANTED ANOTHER ONE! AND I REALIZE THAT IT VEERS OFF INTO SERIOUSLY RANDOM TERRITORY, TRUST ME, IT DOES HAVE TO DO WITH THE MAIN FRANNIE OBENG STORY!


THE CELEBRATION

The Doctor and Martha pored over Sally Sparrow's file, and then, so did Billy. Though, the Doctor kept from him the bits about the conversation he was to have with Sally on the night he dies. They were satisfied that they had left every clue they needed to for now, and all that remained was to wait for the TARDIS to come to them. And stop Frannie Obeng from causing a time paradox, of course.

Later in the day, the Doctor returned to Wester Drumlins, at great personal risk, to set the device in a central location, though out of the reach of the Weeping Angels. Billy went to the building owners to ask after the empty flats, and he moved in two floors up. Cheap rents, already horribly furnished, but it was home for now.

Over the next few days, Martha went to work, sold clothes, cooked a few meals, acted like an utterly normal person, but had trouble sleeping. The Doctor did his best to help, but the same fears always overcame her once he was asleep again, and she was alone. She could not shake the feeling that she might, at any moment, simply cease to exist. She fancied that she could feel herself weakening from time to time. The rational human within told her it was all in her mind, the doctor within told her it was protein deficiency, but the time traveller within told her it was her mother lurking about the angels and jeopardising Martha's existence.

But she did not voice this fear to the Doctor. She was concerned that if she did, he would feel that she didn't trust him. As always, he had come up with the beginnings of a solution, he had assured her not to worry, he had done the legwork – all she had to do was have faith.

Which she did. She had total faith in the Doctor, and in her heart of hearts, knew that he would make it all okay. But having faith didn't mean that she was fearless.

Her mistake, of course, was in assuming that the Doctor could not understand this nuance. He had been like a blunt instrument during the time when she had loved him without his reciprocation, and it made her sometimes assume that he would be insensitive to the complicatedness of her emotions. But she had forgotten how, when Rose had been thrown unceremoniously, violently back into their lives, he had rushed to assure Martha of her place in his life, and that he loved her "no matter what happens."

And the fact was that, though the Doctor wasn't a mind-reader (at least not 99 per cent of the time), he was in love with Martha, and very keen on her feelings. Not to mention, cleverer than any man in the universe. He had a fairly good idea what was going on in her head.

And so, five days on, Martha arrived home, and found a hand-written note displayed prominently on the counter. She had rarely seen the Doctor's actual handwriting, and she marvelled at its roundness and almost calligraphic grace. She supposed that his Roman letters must carry the "accent," so to speak, of those great, circular Gallifreyan letters he was brought up with. Nevertheless, it made for a very beautiful effect. The note read, "Courtyard garden. Dress for warm weather. XO."

This made her smile and feel her first rush of joy in days. She changed out of what she thought of as a shop-girl uniform, and put on a yellow linen shift dress. She was lucky she had it – she'd been buying only clothes for the winter, it being late February, but the shop had received this dress as a promotional piece and the owner had said Martha could have it. It fit her like a glove, but she didn't have any appropriate shoes. She took a page from the fashions of her own time and pulled on a pair of tight-fitted jeans under the dress and put her feet in some clogs. Then she threw on her coat and headed down to what passed for a garden in the courtyard of the old run-down building they were currently calling home.

She exited the building and turned the corner to find the black wrought-iron gate slightly ajar. She walked through it into a tangled mess of dead ivy, dried-up flowers, leaves and dirt. Above her head, tree branches twined around each other, neglected and practically ingrown in places. She wondered if these trees could ever grow leaves again. The place was nearly pitch-black, bushes obscuring the lights from the street. Underfoot, she could barely feel a cement path that led from one end of the courtyard to the other, and occasionally, she could feel when she veered off of it into softer territory.

She stepped through the area carefully, so as not to trip on any stray fallen branches or God knew what other debris. So distracted was she by this process that for a full moment, she failed to notice the most welcome sight she had ever, and would ever experience: the Doctor, smiling, leaning against his TARDIS.

Martha looked up at it in awe, as though it were the first time. She sighed, "Oh, am I ever glad to see that!"

"Happy Valentine's Day," the Doctor said, smirking. He stepped toward her and put his arms around her waist. "A bit late."

"I don't care! This is the best Valentine's gift ever!" She jumped up and planted an enthusiastic kiss squarely on his mouth.

"Well, I figured I'd let you cash in your coupon now. Figured you could use it. I know you've been a bit stressed out."

"Having one's existence in jeopardy will do that."

"Tell me about it."

"When did it arrive?" she asked, indicating the welcome blue box.

"A couple of hours ago. It turned up in someone's carport. The Timey-Wimey Detector went ding and I followed it out to the suburbs – nearly got shot by the homeowners. I don't care to have that happen again, thanks."

"Well, let's get the hell out of here!" Martha exclaimed.

"Wait, aren't you forgetting something? Like your mother? I can't speak for you, but she's one of the least forgettable people I've ever met."

"Oh yeah," she said. "Then why did you tell me to dress for warm weather?"

"Because," he replied. "Although we can't simply blow out of 1969 like a hurricane just because we've got our transport back, there's nothing that says we have to stay in London for our Valentine's celebration."

"Ah!" she sing-songed, smiling widely. "I get it. Tahiti?"

"Even better. May I help you into the carriage, milady?" he asked, offering his hand.

"Of course," she said, taking it. She stepped into the glowing gold TARDIS interior, and felt more relaxed than she had in weeks. She sighed. "Oh, this has got to be my favourite place in the universe."

"And I'm going to take you to one of mine," the Doctor said, walking past her, up the ramp to the console. "Though I believe you're a bit overdressed."

"Right," she said. She peeled off her jacket and stepped out of her shoes and jeans. She stood barefooted on the TARDIS' metal floor wearing her radiant yellow shift. "Er, I don't have any shoes for this dress."

"It's okay," he told her. "We aren't going to stray very far from the TARDIS."

"Where are we going?"

"We're going to the planet Fadsnell," he told her, throwing back the handbrake, setting the vehicle in motion.

"Excuse me?"

"I know it sounds awful, but they've got this phenomenon called the Silaero Barorua, and it's breathtaking. Very romantic. I haven't seen it in... oh, it must be centuries now."

In a minute or so, the TARDIS came to a halt. Martha stepped outside onto a soft, sandy surface. The particles melted into her toes, feeling cool like evening air against her skin. The atmosphere itself was quite warm, and Martha was glad she had shed her winter clothes in favour of something less constricting.

But the most extraordinary bit was the sky. Against a rich, royal purple background, an elaborate light show was taking place. Dotted across the sky, chunks of glowing gold, in varying shapes and sizes seemed to fall slowly to the planet's surface, like a lazy sort of rain. What looked like lit-up pink puffballs seemed to fly about aimlessly, though not falling. At, maybe, twenty-second intervals, they would collide with the gold pieces, and a few seconds later, there would be an explosion of gold light and a flickering of pink behind it, tempering the tableau and making it a softer, more palatable work of art, rather than just a simple fireworks show.

The purple dome stretched over them, and it was alive with this sequence of events taking place all over. The whole sky was lit up with pink and gold, colours colliding and causing some kind of combustion. It was fabulous.

She heard the TARDIS door creak open behind her, and turned to find the Doctor. He was carrying a large picnic basket in one hand, and a big fluffy blanket in the other. He dropped them on the soft sand and joined her, watching the sky. "Beautiful, isn't it?"

She exhaled loudly. "It's breathtaking. What is it?"

"Well, those pink things? They're called Silaero. They feed on radiating energy. Light sources."

"They're alive?"

"Yep," he said. He loved to pop that P. "Normally, they just fly about the cities during the day and drive folks mad trying to gobble up their heat and light sources. The inhabitants here spend half their lives trying to figure out how best to repel those things."

"Hunh!" Martha exclaimed. "Like mosquitoes."

"But," he cut in. He pointed to a far-off spot in the sky. "Do you see that glowing red dot out there?"

"Yes."

"That planet is radioactive and magnetic. Its odd magentism means does not orbit round anything, but just sort of meanders about space. It has only recently come within sight distance of this planet. But while it was meandering, it began to cause a black hole to de-gravitate."

"Whoa! Are you kidding me?"

"Nope. Its magnetism is causing an actual black hole to release its gravitational hold, and its radiation is causing the particles to pick up a glow as they pass by. Once those particles come into orbit round this planet, the gravity here pulls them in, and those are the gold pieces you see falling."

"Those gold chunks were once part of a black hole?"

"Yes, indeed."

"Okay, so the Silaero are feeding on those particles as sources of light – radiating energy. Why are they exploding?"

"They're spitting them out. Because they were once part of a black hole, the gold pieces carry a taint of darkness. They're not pure light, they've been harboured in the heart of a shadow. A black hole is the epitome of dark, and the Silaero can taste it. It's bitter to them, like a biscuit injected with drain cleaner."

"Oh my God, that's amazing! But, does it kill the Silaero?"

"No, it just makes them weaker, that's why you can see them sort of flickering. And they're very simple creatures – stupid, in fact – and they never learn. But the gold rain stops before it extincts the Silaero."

The Doctor then got on his knees and began arranging the blanket on the sand. Martha stood transfixed, watching the light show for several minutes. Eventually, he took her arm and turned her to face him. She smiled, and they shared a soft, deep kiss.

"Are you hungry?" he asked.

"Actually, I am," she answered.

He gestured toward the spread. He had arranged a platter of various fruits and cheeses and some thin slices of black bread. They knelt on the blanket and he uncorked some wine, and poured it into two dainty goblets. They each took their glass and toasted their time together, and just as she was swallowing her first mouthful, the Doctor came at her with a cube of cantaloupe. She allowed him to place it in her mouth, then tasted the sweetest melon she had ever known.

Her eyes rolled back a bit, and she let out a little moan. "Where did you find this melon? It's like candy!"

"Don't worry about it."

"But London... 1969... in February?"

He opened his mouth and exhaled with exasperation. "Let's just say I cheated a bit."

She watched as the Doctor placed a bit of the fruit in his own mouth, then licked his fingers. The sight brought her an unexpected rush of lust, and the atmosphere did nothing to calm it.

They experimented with different cheeses coupled with various fruits. Strawberries go best with medium-flavoured hard cheeses, melon goes well with the sharper lot. The soft cheeses, like Brie, go best with apples and pears. The wine, however, seemed to go with everything!

Later, when they finished eating, they lay on the blanket, food pushed aside, his hands behind his head, and her head on his chest. They watched the pink and gold presentation in the sky and every now and then, one of them would let out a soft, satisfied sigh.

A thought occurred to Martha. "Why wasn't this whole planet sucked into the black hole long ago?" she asked, her voice slightly muted by his clothes.

"It would have been, in time, I expect," replied the Doctor. "It's pretty far away... way on the other side of that red planet. But sooner or later, everything gets pulled in. Only now, it won't."

She smiled. "That's brilliant."

"Yes, well," he sighed. "That radioactive planet will eventually come close enough to this one to fry it dry. By your time, Martha, this planet is a desert."

She lifted her head to look at him. "You mean it dies? The Silaero, the plants, the inhabitants?"

"I'm afraid so," he said, not oblivious to the sudden sadness in her eyes. "Everything has its time, Martha. This planet is twenty-eight billion years old."

"Still," she said. "This lot – they have no idea, do they?"

"No," he conceded.

"Does it happen quickly at least? Do they suffer?"

"No, they don't suffer. It happens like an atomic bomb."

"They only have a few years' time left, and they don't even get a warning."

"Now, Martha..."

"No, no," she said, holding up one hand defensively. "I'm not suggesting we warn them, it's just... it's sad. They won't even get a chance to say goodbye to their loved ones. One day, one moment, it's just over."

He began to stroke her hair. "I know. It just shows how true it is that we have to live every day as though it were our last."

"As though one of us might cease to exist at any moment?" she asked.

Calmly, he told her, "You're not going to cease to exist, Martha."

She touched his lower lip with her index finger. "Can anyone see us?" she asked, tracing her finger across and back.

"Not likely," he said. "This part of the planet is like Siberia."

"Then, can we pretend I might cease to exist?"

He looked at her with intrigue, and some concern. "What are you saying?"

With blazing eyes, she asked, "If that were a real danger, Doctor, what would you do?"

He turned her over, so that she was on her back, and he was supporting himself on his elbows above her. "Are you really that scared?"

She shrugged.

"Do you want me to reassure you, or act like this is your last night to live?"

"How about one, and then the other?" Martha whispered. "In reverse order."


*SIGH* I ACTUALLY WROTE THE ENSUING HOT 'N' HEAVY PART - IT WAS MEANT TO BE THE GREAT, EPIC, CATHARTIC LOVE SCENE FOR THIS STRESSFUL STORY. THEREFORE, IT'S LONG, SAPPY, SORT OF GRAPHIC, KIND OF EXPLOSIVE. BUT, ONCE IT WAS ALL WRITTEN, I HESITATED TO PUT IT IN BECAUSE I ACTUALLY THOUGHT THAT THE CHAPTER ITSELF WAS MORE MEANINGFUL WITHOUT IT.

BUT...

*CHEWS FINGERNAILS AND WHINES* I REALLY LIKE THE NAUGHTY BITS, AND I LOVE MARTHA AND THE DOCTOR BEING NAUGHTY TOGETHER! IT'S A SICKNESS, REALLY. AND SO, THE NAUGHTY BITS ARE IN THE CHAPTER ENTITLED "THE DELETED SCENE." IF YOU WANT TO READ IT, IT'S THERE - KNOCK YOURSELF OUT. IF YOU CAN LIVE WITHOUT IT, THEN SKIP IT. :-)