Well, here we are then—new content! Enjooooooy!

Also, thanks to whoinwhoville (A Who Down in Whoville here on ff) for being my beta reader.

John Smith gazed around the circle of the dead with horror. The Family leered at him, cackling gleefully. "She's next," hissed the Senior Female in Natalie's body.

John glanced at them fearfully and followed their gaze. He saw her kneeling in the middle of the ring of the bodies of the people she loved.

"Please," she sobbed, reaching out. "Help me."

His fear morphed into anger, disgust. He scowled at her then turned and walked away. She called after him desperately but he did not even pause. Eventually he was swallowed by the darkness and all the while, the Family howled with laughter.

And she was alone. Not-Natalie raised the same gun she'd killed the Doctor with and–

Rose jerked awake with a loud, choking gasp. Her heart thumped wildly in her chest and her breaths felt shallow, like her lungs had shrunk to the size of apples. Her eyes stung with tears before they'd even opened. She twisted around, reaching blindly for where the Doctor lay, seeking comfort, but she felt nothing but the mattress and blankets. And then she realized she really was alone. She always could tell if he was in the bed with her, even if he wasn't curled around her or right next to her. She'd spent three months without him there and she could tell the difference. She was definitely alone.

She drew her hand back to her chest, pulling the duvet over her shoulders, and tried to calm down. It was just a dream, after all. The same one she'd been having all week and it was no more real now than it was then. The Family was trapped forever, and the Doctor was fine. So why did she still feel miserable?

The door opened suddenly, startling her, and she jumped. She squinted against the light from the hallway and saw the Doctor standing there with something in his hands. He took one look at her and gasped, shutting the door quickly. He set what he was carrying on her desk, kicking off his shoes, then rushed over to the bed.

She rolled over, reaching out as he lay down next to her, and he grasped her hand tightly before sliding it up her arm and around her back. He had his shirt back on, she could feel the soft fabric against the bare skin of her back, but no jacket.

"What's wrong?" he asked anxiously.

She took a deep, shuddering breath, but couldn't speak.

"The dream?" he guessed.

Rose nodded.

"Okay," he murmured, kissing her forehead. "Okay. I'm here. I'm alive."

She remembered then that she hadn't quite told him the truth. Not the entire truth, at any rate. As far as he knew, in her nightmare the Family killed him and that was the end of it. She hadn't mentioned his transformation into John.

She looked at his face–the cool skin of his cheeks, the small rough patches where he was re-growing his sideburns, his smooth lips–and was struck once again by how lucky she was. The Doctor had given his last self to save her, and had then used what control he had over the regeneration process to make himself someone she would like. She certainly didn't deserve it, not then and especially not now. But he'd thought she was worth it.

"There was…more," she explained quietly. His fingers brushed through her hair. Once, twice, and a third time, over and over, slow and soothing. "You don't die in my dream–this you, I mean. You become him. And he walks away and leaves me behind to die."

His fingers stilled. "Oh," he murmured after a moment.

"He would've, too."

"No," he argued after a silent moment. His fingers resumed their gentle combing. "He wouldn't have. He wouldn't have abandoned any of you."

Rose was quiet for a short time, letting his reassuring words circulate through her mind. They didn't have the calming effect he'd intended. Instead they caused a quiet thought that had been hissing at her from the back of her mind to rise up to the forefront and made her face burn with shame. When she voiced it her voice was so quiet she barely heard herself say, "He should've."

The Doctor stilled again. He didn't agree…but he didn't disagree, either.

"He should've," she repeated more surely. "'S not like I hadn't already done the same."

He remained quiet and still. Maddeningly still. She wasn't even sure he was breathing.

"Please say something," she begged.

"Rose–" he tried then stopped. He breathed deep and exhaled. Opened his mouth. Closed it. Finally, "He never thought you'd abandoned him."

"But you do."

"Did," the Doctor corrected. "I understand your reasoning, Rose, even if I don't particularly like it, even if I may not have done the same if our positions had been reversed. But I understand." He cupped her cheek with his hand. "It's over and it's done with. Don't let it keep haunting you. I'm here now and I forgive you."

She closed her eyes and sighed in relief.

"Just…"

She opened her eyes.

His were wide, pleading, more than a little afraid, and his entire face screamed vulnerability. "J-just please…don't–don't leave me."

"Never," Rose promised fiercely. "I told you I'd never, ever leave you, and I meant it."

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," he whispered over and over, punctuating each with a kiss. He slid his arm around her waist and rolled them over, pressing her into the mattress as his quick, chaste kisses lengthened and deepened into more passionate ones. She sighed softly. And there was no more talk for the rest of the night.

Martha did not go looking for either of them for the remainder of the evening. She figured if one of them wanted to talk to her, the TARDIS would guide them to her. She made herself dinner and watched a bit of telly before retiring to her room. Neither of them ever turned up. They were a no-show at breakfast as well but that had been the norm for the last week. She headed to the console room when she was finished, expecting to find the Doctor already prepared with the day's itinerary, but he wasn't there. She waited for fifteen minutes, checked her watch to confirm it was around nine am (relatively speaking, of course), before looking at the time rotor in the center of the room.

"Is everything alright?"

The TARDIS's hum lightened, the rotor bobbing up and down once in response. That was the closest the ship could come to a nod.

Okay, so they hadn't killed each other. That was good. The Doctor may have barricaded himself somewhere deep within the ship but he'd have to come out sometime. If she staked out the kitchen long enough he was bound to turn up. Time Lord or not, he had to eat, and she wagered the TARDIS would be on her side. They had, after all, teamed up before when it was beneficial to Rose and/or the Doctor.

Eventually she got bored waiting and went to find something to do. She located the anti-gravity room and decided to go for a spin. Then the TARDIS opened up a music library she'd never seen before. All she had to do was select a song and it would instantly fill the room with the clearest, crispest sound she'd ever heard. Old tracks she'd only heard fuzzy recordings of from the 1920s and music that had been released the week she joined the TARDIS crew, they both sounded the same.

She found her mum's favorite album from the 60's and was able to get the TARDIS to give it to her on a CD. She had a small collection of things she'd gathered to give them when she got home. Clothes, trinkets, books, movies, and other souvenirs she'd found that she thought one of them. She'd even bought a dress for Annalise and a long-lasting spray tan because, despite the fiasco that had happened at Leo's birthday, she wasn't gonna break it off with Martha's dad any time soon.

When she got hungry for lunch she headed over to the kitchen and, to her surprise, the Doctor and Rose were already there making lunch together. Happy. Not glaring at, or ignoring, each other. She put her hand on her hip and watched them. They'd always been well coordinated and in sync with each other with certain tasks, but this was different. Just the way they moved…

Hang on. Was that–? Yep. Rose was wearing his Oxford. The one from yesterday, by the looks of it.

Oh my God. Did they…? Hallelujah! "Well it's about damn time," she said loudly.

Both of them jumped and turned around at the same time.

"I mean, really, look at the pair of you. Couldn't get more obvious if you wore matching t-shirts that said 'just shagged.'"

The Doctor tilted his head thoughtfully. "You know, I think I know where we could find a pair."

"Don't you dare," Martha warmed. "I swear I won't come within fifty feet of you. I don't care if you get in trouble or something–those shirts will be gone before you're gettin' my help."

"I'm pretty sure that violates the companion code," the Doctor mused. Martha rolled her eyes. Companion code her arse.

"But, hey, if we went to America then nobody would know what they meant." Rose pointed out.

"Oi, don't encourage him. And I think they'd figure it out." She grumbled and sat down at the table. She cocked her head to the side and observed them as they got back to work. Grilled cheese sandwiches, by the look of it.

"If you don't mind, there're a few places we need to stop today."

"There are?" the Doctor asked in surprise. "Since when?"

"Since–well, since whenever you two…." She cocked her head to the side and wagged her eyebrows once. "There's some people that owe me money."

Rose shrieked a laugh and whirled around, spatula in hand. "You're joking!"

Martha grinned broadly.

"You bet on us?!"

"You bet I did. And most of the time it wasn't even me that instigated it. Oh, don't look at me like that. You two have been obvious for ages. Every time you introduce me to people you've met before they ask me if you two have shacked up yet. Well, not in those exact words exactly, but some of them wagered how long it would take and I took the bet. I think Sarah Jane's the only one who didn't. …The TARDIS probably would've bet if she could've."

"I'll bet Jack made a few bets himself," Rose muttered to the Doctor. "Wouldn't be surprised if Mum and Mickey had as well."

"We'll start on Ritquer Minor," Martha went on. "That merchant that sold you that gold dress owes me 90 Frikiks and that red velvet dress with the white sash."

The Doctor sighed loudly and rubbed his eyes. "Please tell me you're joking."

"Nope. You owe me for everything the pair of you have put me through. Honestly, the tension between you two was driving even the TARDIS mad."

The lights in the flickered twice and the hum around them once again grew louder. He grumbled irritably.

Rose rolled her eyes dramatically and turned back to the stove. The Doctor kept muttering darkly all through the rest of the meal preparations and well into lunch. Martha mostly ignored him, exchanging the occasional glance with Rose who seemed to be torn between amusement and annoyance at both of them.

Martha would've been able to take the occasional irritated looks tossed her away more seriously if they weren't both positively glowing. Seriously, though, it was about damn time. Hopefully now that they'd finally got to it, things would be better. She'd probably have to put up with a lot of PDA but that she'd rather that than them blatantly denying their feelings every bloody day. And she trusted the TARDIS to prevent her from walking in on them.

You'd better, she added with a dark glare at the wall.

When they were done eating, Martha informed him that she hadn't been joking and she wanted to collect. He scowled and pointed one finger at firmly. "Just how many bets are you in on, Miss Jones?"

"Oooh…difficult to say. I have them written down somewhere. I think it's around thirty."

Rose's forehead hit the table with a loud thunk.

"What? I told you the two of you were obvious. Though I'm pretty sure a bunch of 'em weren't entirely serious about honoring the bets so… let's say about twenty?"

"Fine. I'll take you to one. Ritquer Minor, you said?"

"Hey!"

"Be happy I'm taking you at all," he growled. "It's a bit rude, y'know, to bet on our romantic lives."

"Not my fault you two act like you're goin' at it like rabbits all the time. Haven't you ever noticed how shocked people are when they find out you two weren't together like that?"

"Not the point."

"Whatever. Oh, and by the way, I'm just gonna say this now. No shagging in the console room or the library. I don't care if it's your bloody ship and you think you have the right to get it on wherever you want. I live here too and I don't fancy an eyeful. I walked in on Tish and her boyfriend once and I am in no hurry for a repeat of that."

"Fine."

The Doctor, as promised, took her to Ritquer Minor and while she went to collect her winnings, he and Rose browsed the shops again. But over the course of the next week, the TARDIS just so happened to land four more places where Martha had won a bet.

They started really travelling again, not just taking vacations. Instead of theme parks, malls, and resorts, they went to new planets just to explore, they bounced around Earth's past and far future–enough in both directions that they wouldn't be reminded too much of Bridgeton. They set the coordinates to random and let the ship take them wherever. They got involved in a few skirmishes and thwarted several invasions, on Earth and on other worlds. Good days and bad days–days they wanted to last forever and some that couldn't end fast enough.

There were days the two of them never made an appearance and it didn't take a genius to figure out what was going on. It was a bit annoying to be left on her own all day, though there was no shortage of things for her to do on the TARDIS. At least she didn't have to put up with the bloody sexual tension any longer.

They ran for their lives. Sometimes they made it to safety and other times they weren't quite fast enough and they got hauled off to somewhere nasty and had to escape. The Doctor got himself arrested a few times, predictably, and Rose and Martha had to bail him out. Rose, since she was now technically his 'mate' in the eyes of many legal systems and societies, had little trouble doing this on her own.

"See?" Martha said loudly as they strolled out of the prison after the second time Rose had gotten him out. "Shagging has other benefits to."

Later, Rose laughed, "His face! I swear he about regenerated on the spot!"

They had a few close calls on the planets with more mannerly societies, places were rules on public displays of affection mirrored the standards the Doctor had described on Gallifrey, if not stricter. On one such planet, she turned her back for just a few seconds and when she looked back, the two of them had slipped away. She found them a few minutes later in an alley snogging each other's brains out and getting a bit too randy for public even on a more liberal planet. Before she could open her mouth to tell them to knock it off, a man in an apron came out an open door further down the alley, and unceremoniously tossed a bucket of cold water on them. Rose shrieked in surprise and the Doctor hollered an insult at the man, who insulted him right back. Then Rose got in on it, and Martha had to drag them both away.

But they were always laughing by the end of it.

Seeing them together and happy caused Martha's thoughts to turn to her family. She wondered how Leo and his wife and their daughter were doing. Her mum. Tish. Had her dad and the Barbie reconciled yet? She knew time was relative so, really, no time had passed at all for them–but, with that same mindset, an eternity had passed for them. It hurt her head to think about but she missed them all the same.

Yet not enough to give up traveling. She loved it just too much. It was horrible and ugly but wonderful and beautiful and just so much better than her old everyday life.

The beginning of the end came on an ordinary day. They got up, they all ate breakfast together, and the Doctor talked about the planet he was taking them to. It sounded pretty and promised to be a fun day.

Well, he missed the mark and landed on a planet he'd never been to before. The inhabitants were very human-like but their skin tones were just slightly off, their eye colors too bright. After their incident months before when the Doctor was mistaken for a polygamist, he'd been very careful to not hold both their hands at once–or at all–if he didn't know for sure the small gesture wouldn't get them hauled off. So he hadn't considered there would be a society where Martha wouldn't be allowed to walk around alone, unmarried.

The Doctor had his arm around Rose's shoulders and Martha was trailing behind them just giving them some space and taking in the local architecture–her travels had given her a new admiration for buildings and the uniqueness of each on. Next thing she knew, she was boxed in by three men with skin the color of whiskey and one with peach, wearing identical grey uniforms.

They didn't touch her but they had her trapped and their expressions were grim. "Where is your husband?" demanded one of the darker skinned men.

Martha glanced over her shoulder. The Doctor and Rose had their backs to her and hadn't noticed her problem yet. "I-I don't have one," she replied nervously. "I'm not married."

She was seized from behind. She screamed, "GET OFF ME!" as the paler man slapped cuffs around her wrists, securing them tightly in front of her.

"HEY! LET HER GO." the Doctor roared.

The Doctor and Rose came storming back up the road towards them. The officers turned to face them, ready for a fight.

"Let her go!" Rose repeated furiously.

"Silence, woman," said the pale man.

"Excuse you?"

"Sir, control your woman."

The Doctor's eyes narrowed slightly and pulled out his physic paper, flashing it at them. "I am Sir Doctor, this is Dame Rose, and you will treat her with as much respect as you treat me." He gave them a moment to read it then stuffed it in his pocket. "Now, I demand you explain yourselves at once."

The officers looked at him like he was stupid. Martha couldn't figure it out. What had she done to deserve arrest? Obviously these people were sexist but she hadn't done anything outlandish, had she?

"You know the law," answered the shortest of the dark-skinned men. "Women are forbidden to be in public without a man. Unmarried, too. At her age, you know what that means. And look at how she's dressed."

She was wearing black trousers and a tank top. Oh, so scandalous. "And what are you going to do with me?" Martha asked tightly.

Pain exploded across her cheek and she stumbled back. She heard one of them snap, "Shut up, whore."

Rose was livid, eyes blazing (though not quite glowing), she took a single, menacing step forward. "Touch her again and I will knock all of you into the next galaxy."

The officer started to rebuke her but then he glanced at the Doctor and swallowed back his insult.

"Now answer her question," the Doctor ordered.

"She will be taken to the magistrate for violations of the escorting laws and suspected prostitution."

The Doctor looked like he wanted to knock their heads together. "Well," he said after a moment, "I assure you, Martha is a very respectable woman and she's with me."

The pale officer's beady eyes narrowed. "And who are you to her?"

"She is our friend and travelling companion."

"Are you related to her by blood or marriage?"

"No, but–"

"Then you were not permitted to escort. She will be taken before the magistrate to determine her sentencing and, nobility or not, you are lucky I do not take the pair of you as well."

The two time travelers continued to argue against her arrest but the officers point blank refused to release Martha. The Doctor, fed up with trying to reason with them, whipped out the sonic screwdriver and aimed it at something just over their heads. A second later that something exploded and Martha didn't waste a single second, elbowing the man holding her in the gut and slamming her heel into his shin. She felt his grip slacken and she jerked away from him.

"Run for it!" the Doctor yelled and the three of them went tearing up the sidewalk. They weaved through the crowds and buildings, back to the street corner where they'd parked the TARDIS with the officers hot in pursuit. They made it in just in time, slamming the door in the fastest officer (the pale one's) face. They heard the thud as he collided with the wood and scrambled over to the console screen to watch the show.

The other three officers had arrived, panting for breath, and watched their fellow scramble to his feet. "Come out of there!" he demanded as he shook the door handle. "Come out of there at once!"

The TARDIS hummed indignantly at behind manhandled. An electrical current whizzed through the door handle and zapped his hand. He jerked it away with a surprised yelp and put the singed digit into his mouth. Scowling, the officer glared at the door, removing his finger from his mouth to growl, "Stupid piece of junk."

"Let 'im have it, Old Girl," the Doctor ordered.

The door closest to him flew open outwards and smacked into him, sending him flying. Through the door they saw him lying flat on his back, gazing blearily at his comrades.

"And that's for callin' my ship a piece of junk!" the Doctor shouted at him. The TARDIS let out a short, sharp rumble that sounded suspiciously like a 'hmph' as she pulled the door shut.

He nodded huffily, agreeing with her, and flipped the dematerialization switch. "Right," he said once they were safely in the vortex. He pulled the screen around to the keyboard and his fingers flew over the keys. "I've marked this planet as one we shouldn't return to until I can do further research. I doubt that law lasts forever and, really, it's a pretty place. Maybe we can return once women have a considerable more amount of freedom?"

"Speaking of freedom," Martha hinted and held up her cuffed wrists.

"Oh, sorry." He pulled out the sonic and freed her from the restraints. She frowned at the angry red marks they'd left on her wrists. He did, too, and sniffed the cuffs then lightly probed the inside of them with his tongue.

"And of course you licked it." Rose grumbled.

He made a face and stuck his tongue out. "Blah-ah-ah." He swiped his sleeve across it. "That was–" Looking down at the cuffs in surprise, "Oh, that's ingenious, that is. The cuffs are coated in an acidic compound. It's brilliant, really. Put these cuffs on someone and they get the compound on their skin. Takes a little bit to kick in, of course, plenty of time to get them somewhere secure then apply the counteragent. But if someone tries to escape with the cuffs on, they won't be able to get the compound off themselves so they'll have to go back! Or, well, they don't have to, I suppose. But I don't imagine their hands will remain attached to their bodies for very long once the reaction begins."

"WHAT?!" Martha shrieked. "I'M GONNA LOSE MY HANDS?!"

"Relax, you're not gonna lose your hands. I'll get a sample and whip up the counteragent. Shouldn't take too long."

"And if it does?

"What about you?" Rose demanded. "You licked it!"

"I should be alright. But I'll lick the counteragent, too, if it makes you feel better."

"It will."

Martha and the Doctor stopped in what looked like a chemistry lab–a room she'd never even seen before. While he went searching for something, she peered around the room curiously. She'd taken her fair share of science courses but she had a feeling she'd be lost in here without guidance. She wondered if he had samples of the elements missing from the periodic table in her time. Half of this stuff probably didn't even exist on Earth. The Doctor, of course, knew everything in here, its properties, and what it could be used for.

He returned with a toolbox (bigger on the inside, no doubt) of what he called, "Just some basics, but I think they should be enough." Then took her to the infirmary.

He sat her down in the examination chair, swiped the parts of her skin covered in the compound, then rolled over a portable sink and turned it on, instructing her to stick her hands underneath. She did as instructed and he turned to one of the many machines to begin analyzing it.

Her wrists were starting to sting now and she wondered how long it would be before she had indents in her skin. "It doesn't seem to be washing off," she told him.

"I suspected it wouldn't," he muttered, staring it the screen. "Like I said, this would have to be something that couldn't be removed without turning yourself in. This is something the average person wouldn't be able to remedy in time. Good thing I'm not an average person."

"They're stinging. Is it–is it eating through my skin?"

"Just keep them under the water. Trust me, you'll know if it starts eating through your skin."

"How long do you reckon I have?"

He glanced at her. "Your biological composition and the density of your muscles and bones, maybe an hour and a half. Approximately two hours from the time of application."

Martha nodded slowly. "And how's your tongue?"

"It's fine. Really, I didn't get any stuck on it like you did. I just sort of sampled it." The machine beeped, a window appearing on the screen. His eyes scanned the strange symbols and he muttered something she couldn't understand. He touched the screen and the window disappeared, a new one replacing it. He entered in some information and the machine made a loud whirling sound.

The Doctor took a step back, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"You really need to tell those things to display English."

"No I don't," he replied. "Because anyone who can't read Gallifreyan has no business handling half of these things. Everything that you're qualified to use and the medicines you'd need I've already relabeled or reprogrammed to English for you."

"Wait. That was Gallifreyan?"

He nodded. "Yes."

"But where all the lines and circles and things?"

"That's Circular Gallifreyan. Just another way to write the same language. But it was something that came about near the end of Gallifrey's time as a way for us to communicate without the Daleks or any of our enemies being able to translate any messages they may intercept. Though up until the Time War it was used as a form of art by many."

"So why do you write in the super-secret code instead of that?"

The Doctor flinched ever so lightly. "During…the Time War I… I, like all the others, had to learn to write this way. I spent so long writing in Circular that it eventually became habit. There are those left in the universe who could read this–" he nodded to the screen "–but I am the last one left who can read Circular."

She decided to leave it alone, recognizing a sensitive subject when she saw one. "I've always wondered but I never asked–why doesn't the TARDIS translate Gallifreyan?"

He was quiet for a moment. "Three reasons. One: she wasn't initially programmed to. The Time Lords never expected someone not native to Gallifrey to be operating one of these ships, or even riding in one. Two: Gallifreyan is so more complex than English it would be difficult for her to adequately translate it. And three: she's respecting my privacy."

Martha snorted. "And what about us? You can understand everything we write or say!"

"Yes, but I actually speak your language. I haven't relied on the translator for years for it. I suppose if you wrote something I was absolutely not meant to see she would translate it into one of the few languages I don't know."

I'll remember that , she thought.

The machine beeped again and he scanned the results. "Excellent!" He immediately began pulling things out of his toolbox. Oh, yes. Definitely bigger on the inside. "This won't take long at all. I'll have you fixed up in a jiffy, Martha!"

She smiled. He moved quickly, pulling out tiny vials of chemicals–both liquid and solid–and dropped them into the two beakers he was working with.

Pain suddenly flared in her wrists, starting with her left, then her right a few seconds later, and she gasped, yanking them out of the water sharply. The angry red marks on her wrists had increased in width and in the middle were fissures that circled her entire wrist. She wasn't bleeding, though, which meant it had to be cauterizing as it went, but the sight somehow made it worse. She let out a scream of pain and panic.

He was at her side in an instant, examining her wrists. "No, no, no, no–it's too soon, it's way too soon." He raked his hands through his hair. "Think, think, think–oh. Oh, that's clever," he growled. "Oh, that's very clever. Feel something burning your skin, what's the first thing you do? Try to wash it off. Only instead of helping it speeds up the process." He shut off the tap.

Martha let out a choked whimper.

"Hang on, Martha." He instructed and spun around, yanking open one of the drawers. He rummaged through the contents, knocking things onto the floor in his haste.

Rose appeared in the doorway with a mug of tea in her hands. "What's happening?" she demanded, chest heaving like she'd sprinted the entire way.

"It's eating through my skin!" Martha shrieked.

"Rose, that towel over there–get the water off her wrists, it's making it worse."

"Oh, God," she gasped. Rose set the mug down and snatched up the towel, racing over to the chair. Martha held her shaking wrists out while Rose patted them down quickly. "Oh God, oh God, oh God," she repeated.

Martha yelped when the chain of Rose's necklace bumped against her wrist. "Sorry!"

She started to put it under her shirt but the Doctor stopped her with a cry of "No, don't! It's got the compound on it now. Get it off!"

Rose yanked the thing over her head and tossed it aside before going back to patting Martha's wrists dry. When she was done, she set tossed it aside since it, too, now had the acid on it. Mindful of the dangerous spots, she examined the grooves in Martha's wrists. "Doctor, you might want to hurry. I think it's getting close to the bone."

Martha had been trying to stop her tears but she started sobbing harder when she heard that. Rose wrapped her arm around her shoulder comfortingly. "It's okay, he's almost done. …Doctor, please tell me you're almost done."

"Almost done!" he shouted without looking away from his work.

A minute later, he whirled around with a large beaker in his hand. "Hands together over the sink, now!" He barked. Martha did as instructed and he immediately started pouring the counteragent over her wrists. Almost immediately the burning began to fade where the liquid hit. He rotated each one individually, making sure that the liquid covered every millimeter, sliding down and through the deep grooves.

Slowly, her sobs quieted to sighs of relief as the stinging faded to the bliss of cool numbness.

"Rose, fetch some gauze," he ordered calmly.

Rose did as she was asked. He continued to pour the counteragent over her wrists, now daring to touch her skin to massage it into the places that hadn't been eaten away. When the beaker was almost empty, he set it to the side and took the gauze from Rose. He slowly, carefully wrapped her wrists, slinging the gauze around her thumbs to hold it in place, and then secured it with tape.

"Get some of that on your tongue," Rose ordered. He sighed and dabbed his tongue against the edge of the beaker.

"Happy?"

"Extremely."

"Did you get any on your hands?"

"No."

"Good." He went over to the towel, pinching the edge between his fingertips and held it up gingerly. He inspected it for a moment then tossed it into the incinerator in the wall. Rose's necklace had already been eaten through so, to protect the key, he snapped a new break in it and slid the key off before tossing the chain pieces into the incinerator as well.

Rose tucked the key in her pocket and sighed. "Thank goodness."

"How are you feeling?" the Doctor asked Martha.

"Numb," she replied. "Actually I…I can't feel my hands so well. Can't–can't move 'em, either."

"Nerve, tendon, muscle, and skin damage. Don't worry they're fixable. We just need to give the counteragent time to settle into your skin and eradicate any remaining traces of the acid. Should take, oh, say, a few hours."

"In the mean time I say we go back there and give those bastards hell." Rose spat. "This is totally barbaric and sick."

"True. But you've got to admit, it's a great way to control crime. Not that a woman walking around on her own should be a crime," he added quickly, "but if a murderer, thief, or a rapist tried to get away and didn't go back, he'd lose his hands. Not as much of a danger then."

"So we're not going back?"

He shook his head. "No. The last thing we need is one of us accidentally getting cuffed as well." He lowered his head to look in Martha's eyes. "Hey, it'll be okay. I told you you'd keep your hands. They'll be good as new soon, don't you worry."

"Will I scar?" Martha asked.

"Probably but you should have full use of your hands again by tomorrow."

She nodded. "Thank you."

The Doctor smiled.

Dinner was a strange affair. Since Martha couldn't use her hands, the Doctor volunteered to help. She was surprised and sort of embarrassed but she knew there really wasn't any other option so she sat there with her arms in slings and let him spoon feed her like she was an infant.

When enough time had passed, he unwrapped her wrists and began the process of repairing her arms, which meant she had to sit still with her hands underneath a laser-like beam that he used to reconnect the severed nerves. Pain pricked along her arms as the nerve endings were reconnected and sparked back to life. It was nothing compared to the pain from earlier. He moved onto the tendons next, using a combination of an injection and another laser to repair the severed sinew. Lastly came the muscles–two injections in each arm followed by a quick swipe from the same laser he'd used for the tendon repair. He glanced at her nervously every so often throughout the whole thing like he was waiting for something to happen.

"What's the matter?" she asked.

The Doctor hesitated, pursing his lips. "Do you want to go home?" he blurted out.

"What?"

"Do you want to go home?" he repeated. "To stop traveling?"

"W-why? Do you…want me to leave?"

"Not really, no, but–but it's just, well, I've had companions leave because of injuries like this. Sometimes not even quite as bad as this. They realized they really could get seriously hurt with me and decided they'd had enough."

"I… well, no. I don't…I don't want to leave."

"But?" he prompted.

"But," she sighed. "It's been nearly a month since Bridgeton and I am happy to not be stuck on Earth in one timeline, but I… I kind of…"

"Go on."

"I miss my family," she finished quietly.

He paused for a moment, his eyes softening sympathetically. "Of course you do."

"But I don't want to stop travelling!" she added quickly. "Can't I just visit? Rose told me you used to do the same for her."

"I did," he confirmed with a nod. "Sure, I'll take you home for a visit. How long do you want to stay?"

"A few days, maybe."

"Reasonable enough. Alright. But it won't be tomorrow. I've already got somewhere planned and I think you'll enjoy it." He smiled. "But after that we'll take you home."

"Thank you."

"Just…just don't expect me to go near your mum. I really don't like getting slapped by mums."

Martha laughed. "I'll talk to her. Though I can't imagine she'll be too happy about these." She gestured to her wrists. "How bad's the scarring going to be?"

"Probably comparable to a minor burn scar."

Sure enough, after he'd run the dermal regenerator across the wounds, and the skin had regrown and knitted together, there were two waxy-looking strips around each of her wrists. She sighed sadly and examined the two scars. Still, it could be a lot worse, she reasoned, and they could be covered with makeup if necessary. Or thick bracelets. She'd think of something.

He wrapped her wrists again with a sturdy material and ordered her to keep them as still as possible for the rest of the night while they continued to heal. "You're going to probably feel weird sensations or pains for a while. So take this before you go to sleep." He held up a white pill. "It's a sedative. Should keep you under for ten hours, roughly."

She started to reach for it and then sighed. "Uh, Doctor?"

"Oh, right."

"Um, maybe it'd just be better if I slept here. I mean without either of my hands there isn't much I can do."

"Well, if you want. Looks like the TARDIS agrees." He nodded to the bed that had just appeared in the corner. "Come on, I'll help you get settled. You don't mind sleeping in your clothes?"

"The number of times I fell asleep fully dressed during med school…"

"Let me guess–passed out in the library on top of a textbook?"

"Twice a semester."

The Doctor laughed and helped her out of the chair.

Rose was already curled up in bed when the Doctor finally arrived. He unbuttoned his jacket and Oxford, removed his tie, and toed off his trainers before slipping under the sheets with her. Sliding one arm around her midsection, he pulled her close and kissed her forehead.

She hummed contently, fingers tracing idly along his bicep. "So, how is she?"

"Better. Whole process went without a hitch. I told her to keep her hands immobilized for the rest of the night and she decided to sleep in the infirmary. Little bit of scarring but she should recover just fine."

Rose was quiet for a moment. "Her wrists–I can't get it out of my head–it was just like something had cut out her skin and–" she shuddered. "How could they do that to people? I know, I know, it is a good defense but it's–it's still just…"

He kissed her soothingly, his hand slipping under her top to run up and down her back. "I know."

"But you won't stop them? If it'd been me, you'd have gone back in a heartbeat."

His expression darkened. "If she had lost her hands, I would be there now."

"You still should be."

"It's just another shoddy legal system; every planet has at least one. But there was no sign of slavery, invasion, plague, or war. That kind of practice wouldn't last forever, just like the sexist laws that caused this. Besides, we're a bit busy right now."

She raised her eyebrows.

"Martha wants to go home."

"What?!" she gasped, sitting up. "She's leaving?!"

She was already halfway out of bed, ready to go convince her friend to not go, when he caught her arm. "Not go home to stay," he assured her. She paused. "She just wants to visit her family."

Rose exhaled in relief and sank back down into the bed. "Oh. Okay. Okay. Right," she mumbled as he fixed the covers around her. "…Didn't her mum slap you?"

"Yours did, too."

"Well, yeah, but you made me miss a year. Her mum didn't really have a good reason compared to that."

The Doctor shrugged. "So I guess we just won't go near her while we're there."

"She's not telling her family the truth, then?"

"I don't know. I'm going to have to land her within a few days of her departure, though, so it won't cause a fuss. I really don't want to give the rest of her family a reason to have a go at me."

"And she's got med school to finish."

He blinked in surprise then sighed heavily.

"You forgot, didn't you?"

"Yes. She's so far beyond a student now. But I definitely need to make sure we land near the time of departure."

"Are we going tomorrow?"

He shook his head. "No, actually, the day after. I've got a stop planned for tomorrow. Been planning it for a while, actually. Now seems like a good time, considering."

"Considering what?"

He smiled and didn't respond.

"Right, okay. And the odds of us actually getting there?"

"Very good," he replied. Rose arched her eyebrows so he continued, "I've asked the TARDIS to be nice. I think she'll make sure we get there."

The volume of the hum around them increased slightly.

"See?" He grinned cheerfully and, rolling her eyes fondly, she laughed.

"So where are we going?"

"Ah, can't tell you."

She narrowed her eyes. "Really?"

"Nope. It's a secret."

Rose grinned wickedly, rolling them so he was flat on his back, and she was straddling his waist. "You sure about that?"

"Absolutely."

She leaned forward, her lips hovering just inches from his. He tried to kiss her but she backed just out of his each. "Bet I can convince you."

"Bet you can't."

"You're on."

Heheheeh. Well, y'all should know what to do at this point. And just so you know, even if I don't respond to your review (which usually only happens if I really don't have anything to respond with) I still see them and I do appreciate them. And to my respectful guest reviewers, if you would like to me to respond to your reviews, well, you have to create accounts! Otherwise I can only read them. Still, I am glad so many of you take the time to let me know you enjoy this even though you don't have an account. :3

(Btw, shtoops, nonny's still upset you're calling him names! XD)