Author's Note:
Lot's of dialogue again (but it's rather imporant for the plot...sorry)
Small Sir Terry Pratchett related jokes, I hope anyone notices them.
The next chapter will involve more Doctor/Jack action as they start building up tension again.
The Doctor had let his gaze slip and his eyes focused on the window on the other side of the room.
Martha had heard him sighing several times while she had started tidying up the room.
She wasn't quite comfortable with seeing the Doctor like this; and worst of all she didn't know how to help him.
Martha shook her head and placed her hands on her temples; her fingers massaged the same spot over and over again.
"You never told me that your head could get sore from those telepathic waves," Martha tried catching the Doctor's attention again by easing up the tension a bit.
The Doctor looked up to her and sighed again.
"Sorry about that," mumbled the Doctor "Never had that myself. But I don't know what it does to humans. Probably shouldn't have tried it out on you."
Then he eyed her up carefully, eventually locking his eyes with hers.
He smiled gingerly. "And thank you for your effort."
Martha had felt him infiltrating her mind again and chuckled after the sharp stinging pain on her temples had stopped.
"Stop that," Martha sat down on the bed again, "Don't rummage through my head. I don't want you to find something that might disturb you."
The Doctor narrowed his eyes on her and let his gaze sink into her eyes, about half an inch deep.
He chuckled. "Oh, that won't disturb me; I've done that before with Jack."
"What?!" Martha nearly jumped from her seat after the Doctor's reply,
"No, you... you two perverts! And I thought only opposite-sex couples could do that."
"I was only bluffing" replied the Doctor and cocked an eyebrow at Martha, giving her that look she had always admired: "And you, Martha Jones, are definitely not the innocent little girl you used to be. But don't worry; I'll keep out of your head. I've tried that telepathic connection with Jack and believe me... I've learned my lesson."
Martha stared at him with disbelieving eyes.
"So... what does he think about all the time?" she asked and had to chuckle.
"Well what do you think he thinks about all the time? And I don't think that you actually want to know."
"Does it always involve you?" Martha went on.
"Almost always" replied the Doctor earnestly and bit his lower lip as images washed through his mind he wouldn't want to speak about.
"Has he tried the..."
"I don't want to talk about that," interrupted the Doctor hastily, "And that's just gross! I've seen the visions in your head and the smile on your lips. How can a girl with an angel's face think such gruesome thoughts?"
"Sorry," mumbled Martha.
After the silence had settled a bit she had to add, "Actually, I tried it myself and I was surprised that..." to elicit a sudden, "Stop it!" from the Doctor before he pressed his hands over his ears.
Martha chuckled again and had to wonder how someone who had spent what felt like an eternity with Jack could still be that uptight.
"Have you talked to Jack about it?" asked Martha and disturbed the arising silence once more.
The Doctor searched her ebony-eyes to find questions lurking he didn't want to answer. At least not too soon.
"No, and I would ask you not to tell him about our little chat," replied the Doctor directly "I'll inform him myself."
Martha nodded.
He'll never do that, thought Martha to herself. She figured she knew him quite well enough that it would never happen, that the Doctor wouldn't have the heart to tell Jack about it all until the 'big showdown' where there's no turning back, and emotions are flaring up and there's probably a life-or-death-struggle involved , too.
At least it's always been this way with the Doctor till now. He simply never found the perfect time. Or he got in too much trouble to even find a medium-right time.
As if he had caught a glimpse of Martha's thoughts the Doctor grabbed one of her hands and squeezed it tenderly.
"But you have to promise me, Martha. Promise me not to tell Jack."
Martha found herself caught by surprise due to the Doctor's urging plea.
"Why should I...?"
"I know that look on your face. I've seen that one before. It's the 'I'm-up-to-no-good-and-the-Doctor-won't-even-notice-that-I-have-broken-something-off-the-Tardis'-look."
"I didn't mean to!" snapped Martha "And if the paint hadn't still been wet when you had returned you never would have found out!"
Martha chuckled. The Doctor was close to smiling but he wouldn't get it working. He remained earnest and composed.
"Please, promise me that you won't tell Jack. Not about the medical stuff."
"I'll promise you, Doctor. You have my word. I swear to God that I won't tell."
"Oh, you shouldn't be saying this. Really, you shouldn't be. Don't swear to God's, you shouldn't be doing this."
Martha stared at him in wonder. "But why? Don't you swear on or to anything?"
"Only on star constellations lately. And I try to avoid it. You shouldn't be doing this either, and especially not to a God. Do you know what's the trouble with Gods? They always tend to come in pairs."
Martha thought about it for a moment. Then she shook her head.
"Not, that's gloves."
The Doctor seemed to rummage through his thoughts and memories and pulled a wry face.
Maybe a Time Lord's head is bigger on the inside too, Martha wondered, at least it would explain why there's enough place for useless information stored in it.
"Right, right," the Doctor went on "But don't they need to stand on chairs? No, wait a minute that was dwarves... what was is about Gods? Gods... of course, about the God: The trouble with a God is, Martha: You don't know what about it cares."
The Doctor looked at her full of expectation. Martha considered it once more.
"Does that make sense?" she asked.
"My people used to believe it. Yes, they believed not to believe in Gods... which is rather odd when you come to think about it."
The Doctor padded the sheet beside him and Martha moved up closer.
"On Gallifrey people believed that 'Gods laugh differently'... as a child I always had to wonder if you could actually hear a God laughing, if his laughter was in a different tone, or if they found amusement in other things... but, you know... from my perspective... you know...
I'm looking at a world, a beautiful world full of wonders and amazement, I'm looking at your world Martha, the human world, with alien eyes. And you know that we used to agree on most things... but I'll never be able to see in your world what you see.
And it's not because my eyes are different... it takes more to be a human being than simply have those unique eyes and the beautiful appearance... it's more than that.
We're limited, Martha. Each of us is limited, stuck in their own point of view, unable to maintain a different perspective on things.
And with different I mean neither good nor bad; I simply mean in another way. We all have our ways of seeing things.
And we can't ever see, nor can we know what others see in them.
And I'm only an alien. I'm not that different from you.
Just imagine what it would be like to see through the eyes of beings that have another definition of 'consciousness' or even 'being' itself?"
The Doctor looked at Martha with a more concrete stare and found her wondering about a Time Lord's view on philosophy. She let her gaze wander until it rested on the cup of tea. As the Doctor picked it up her eyes were locked on something invisible hovering in mid-air above the bedside table.
"I wonder what a God sees in us," mumbled Martha absent-minded.
"Pawns, I suppose," muttered the Doctor and opened his eyes wide, "And probably lots of jokes."
"What do Gods laugh about?" asked Martha and felt her mind drifting back to reality slowly.
"That's a bit too philosophical, isn't it?" counter questioned the Doctor and thereby managed to get Martha finally back "It took me centuries to find out whether or not a God exists and how my conclusion affects my point of view, I can't discuss with you 'What is humour for Gods?'."
"You brought up the philosophical issue," complained Martha and folded her arms again.
"Yes, and we can discuss that later, like maybe in two or three centuries."
The Doctor smiled at Martha who narrowed her eyes at him.
"You do know that I won't live that long, you lucky bastard?"
"Well, too bad," he smiled and refilled his cup.
Martha put the Doctor on another IV before staring at the mess on the bed.
"I can return the bottles to the Tardis," she stated firmly, "though I hate doing courier services."
"I thought you had someone for that in Torchwood," replied the Doctor "the pale male one who always stares at you as if he'd seen his own death in your eyes? Don't you remember him?"
"Ianto?" asked Martha.
"Don't know their names," replied the Doctor, "Every Torchwood member can only be designated as 'enemy'. I don't think they actually need names."
"I can't bother members of Torchwood for everything; I'm not even part of Torchwood. And besides, you wouldn't want them to get their hands on your precious meds, would you?" countered Martha.
"No, I wouldn't. But sadly my 'precious meds' have already been taken by someone whose identity is as much a mystery to me as their intentions; and now I'm left with nothing but sun blocker that has expired 300 years ago, depilatory cream and bottles I can't either get open or decipher the writing on the front."
"But you wouldn't want Torchwood to get those meds, either," Martha chuckled, "Just watch out what Torchwood might do with Time Lord depilatory cream."
"Right, they could turn me into a hairy monster within a week," smiled the Doctor.
Martha picked up the bottles and headed for the door.
"You forgot something," the Doctor reminded her.
Martha turned around.
"I won't take that thing with me."
"Oh come on, it can hardly sleep on the sheets. It's too bright. They're meant to be kept in darker places. And don't be rude, it has a name."
"But what am I supposed to do with it?" asked Martha "Where am I supposed to put it?"
"Put it back in the cabinet. Just ram it in with the other stuff, Martha" ordered the Doctor.
"I'm not going to touch it ever again" Martha refused to pick up the fuzzy creature.
"I don't like it. And that must have been some friend of yours, giving you a small explosive device… why were you friends again?"
"I just happened to know him," replied the Doctor.
He wouldn't keep on talking. But Martha's curiosity had awoken so she went on asking: "What was his name?"
The Doctor shrugged. He reached for the paneopal puffy and fumbled around with it nervously.
After stroking the creature cautiously and letting it roll onto its back he stated quiety:
"Koschei."
"That's a Russian name, isn't it?" asked Martha
"Probably."
"So a friend from Russia gave it to you?"
"No. I told you it was for the Time War. It was on Gallifrey."
"And you're friend's name was Russian?" asked Martha.
"Look," the Doctor tried to remain calm, "Don't ask me about it. We all got other names when we entered the Academy. Nicknames, I suppose… and probably cheap jokes, too."
"You went under a different name?" Martha went on.
"I always go under a different name," replied the Doctor.
"But… you actually had another name?" Martha repeated.
The Doctor mocked Martha by clapping his hands together.
"Oh no" he mumbled ironically "you got me. 'The Doctor' isn't actually my real name."
"So, what is your real name, then?" Martha wouldn't stop bugging him.
"I can't tell you," he replied sulkily.
The Doctor let himself sink deeper into the cushion; the paneopal puffy had come to notice that the hand, that had till now busied itself with stroking it, had disappeared and yawned its way slowly towards the Doctor, with all the impressiveness a furry hairball could possess.
"You won't tell me your name?" asked Martha.
The Doctor shook his head.
"Too personal?" she guessed.
"No, I can't tell you because you wouldn't be able to pronounce it correctly unless I would rip out your tongue and tape it to your front teeth upside down."
Martha stared at him with disbelieving eyes and tried imagining it.
"Then you'd be able to at least speak it correctly…perhaps…but your mind would probably turn into a knot, too," the Doctor went on.
"Alright, alright," snapped Martha "I'm sorry for asking."
Martha rolled her eyes and started tidying up the room.
The Doctor had folded his arms in front of his chest; he sighed quietly.
He wasn't content with the current situation but under no circumstances he wanted to draw attention towards himself.
The Doctor knew it wouldn't be easy to talk to Martha about that. He knew that in the empathetic and intelligent human being that called herself Martha lingered a boisterous lust to kill. And he wouldn't want to wake it… and who knew what she'd do to his little friend?
If she knew that it was a gift from…
The Doctor's eyes snapped open after a cushion had hit him in the face.
"Don't give me that look, Doctor" snapped Martha "And don't play innocent. I don't know how things were 'back home'. But I don't care if your social behavior included staring at young female's buttocks. And I'm not comfortable with you inspecting my backside, not even if it was considered normal on Gal-live-ray!"
"Gallifrey," corrected the Doctor "My home-planet's name was 'Gallifrey'."
"Don't try changing the subject," Martha nearly cut him off, "And I just said 'Gal-live-ray'."
"Maybe ripping out your tongue wasn't such a bad idea," mumbled the Doctor barely audible and thought to be on the safe side.
"Oh yeah?" Martha folded her arms in front of her chest "Just you try coming near me, nameless blue-box-driver-who-tends-to-leave-the-hand break-applied!"
The Doctor chuckled and felt the ball of fur brushing against his elbows. He lowered one hand slowly and felt the fluffy creature grumbling and purring before it rolled on its back again.
The Doctor faced Martha with a sigh.
"My name at the Academy was 'Theta-Sigma'," he stated quietly. There was a small spark of curiosity emerging from Martha's eyes as she smiled.
"But don't think that I'll tell you this because I trust you or because it's something personal. The name's nothing personal, I inherited it from someone who died there and they simply were sick of stitching new badges all the time. I only tell you this because I can't stand you bugging me with questions all the time. And please don't ask what the Academy was and what we were forced to do there and who we were and how we ended in a purple river without our clothes on."
Martha stared at him with disbelieving eyes and eyebrows raised.
"You're completely mad," she mumbled.
The Doctor shrugged before placing his hand at the fur ball's six feet. It twitched delightfully.
"It's rather ticklish," the Doctor smiled and reached for Martha's hand after she'd come closer to take a glimpse of the furry creature.
"Oh, come on" the Doctor insisted emphatically.
Martha tried pulling her hand away but the Doctor increased his grip and stroked the paneopal puffy with the back of her hand. "Even if it is contagious: You're still wearing gloves."
"I don't like the sounds its making," mumbled Martha "And if it IS a UXO?"
The Doctor sighed again and continued tickling the furry creature.
"And this friend... Kosce... Kooo... Koschtsch...," after a couple of attempts Martha gave in.
"Koschei," pronounced the Doctor firmly.
Martha nodded and decided on skipping the name.
"He gave that thing to you?"
"As already mentioned he used to work in a factory. He helped developing it."
"What kind of a factory was that?"
"It was part of the defence- and arms sectors. Well, he told me that they discontinued the race due to its lack of interest in getting blown up."
Martha smiled and stared the Doctor in the eye suspiciously.
"Who wouldn't want to?" she asked uneasy.
"Well, they were created for fighting. But that's the trouble with artificial intelligence, Martha: give it a life of its own and POOF; you can fight your war yourself. No mindless soldiers with unquestioning obedience, no secret weapons..."
He sighed while the fuzzy creature purred louder.
"Of course you wouldn't have been a good soldier, would you? Ooh, would you?" cooed the Doctor.
Martha rolled her eyes and chuckled.
"I don't need your opinion on that, Martha Jones," stated the Doctor firmly while he wouldn't take his eyes off the small ball of fur, "Just for you information, I used to be a father, a grandfather, an older brother, a step-sister and a mother-in-law and Kasterborous-knows-what-else and don't ask me how I got into all of that. More children have passed through my hands than you will probably ever get to see even if you happen to work at a baby ward and therefore, Ms Jones, I assume that I have the right to coo as much as I want to."
After submitting the clear statement the Doctor picked up the purring creature and stroked it while pressing... one of its ends... against his chest.
Martha couldn't quite guess where the head was located due to its fuzziness but she wouldn't have accused the Doctor of holding that thing upside down. IF the thing happened to have a right side you could hold up.
Only the small legs protruding from the fur foreshadowed that there was something like a top and a bottom side to this creature.
"This creature was... created?" wondered Martha.
"Of course. You can't say 'creature' without 'create'," replied the Doctor.
"But it's pronounced differently" explained Martha.
The Doctor shrugged. "Humans," he mumbled "pronounce everything differently."
"How can you create a creature?" Martha went on.
"You can if you have the right equipment. And lots of luck. Anyway, it's not really 'inventing'. It was a simple process of copying and defragmenting artificially constructed modules you would refer to as 'domino acids' or something like that."
Martha considered it for a moment.
"I think you're relating to DNA and it's called 'amino acids'."
"Right," the Doctor went on "It's more like... creating an amount of useless devices and hoping that one of it could be useful in the near future. How do you create a creature? By hazard, by chance, Martha. Accidently? Perhaps. Luckily? Never. Coincidently?..."
Martha cut off the Doctor before the senseless mumbling would start again.
"But why the six legs?" she asked.
"How many legs do you have?" asked the Doctor.
"Two" replied Martha instantly.
The Doctor rolled his eyes. "Imagine I would mistake your arms for legs, too," the Doctor went on "How many legs would you have then?"
Martha thought about it.
"Four?"
"Right" the Doctor explained "Symmetry is found in most animals. Everything is paired. And four is quite a nice number. Usually animals... mammals...well, actually most things go smoothly with four limbs."
"Extremities!" corrected Martha as she felt quite amusing, not to say perverted, pictures entering her mind "Please Doctor, say extremities, not limbs!"
"Alright... and you called me perverted...where were we? Right, four. Four legs are ideal. And I guess someone at the factory figured that it could be useful if you put in some extra-legs. You know... just in case some of them went missing..."
"Not that uncommon during a war," added Martha.
Martha checked on the Doctor's catheter again and took a glance of his chest.
"I don't really think it looks good," she explained quietly "But I don't know what I'm supposed to give you against the rash."
"Too bad I'm the only Time Lord around," mumbled the Doctor, "The Master always used to have a first aid box that was bigger than mine."
The Doctor could have bitten off his tongue for his own words as he caught a glimpse of Martha's glare.
He really shouldn't have mentioned that name.
Martha tensed by the mere thought of him.
"I'm sorry... I didn't mean to... it's not as if...sorry, Martha," added the Doctor rather quickly.
"It's nice to be reminded of him after all this time, isn't it?" hissed Martha between gritted teeth.
"I didn't mean to remind you..." the Doctor began but got cut off by Martha.
"But you did. And maybe that wasn't such a bad idea. Maybe it's his fault. Maybe it's his fault again!"
Martha walked towards the window, deep in thought and returned while mumbling things the Doctor wouldn't quite get.
He stare her in the face as she had come to a halt in front of him again.
"Of course, the Master! Why didn't you think about it yourself? Who could do something to you except for him?" Martha blurted out.
The Doctor took a quick glance of his swollen abdomen and felt fear rising in his veins.
But the anxiety vanished as soon as it had arisen.
"No, no, no," the Doctor mumbled quietly "That's not like him; that would be completely stupid."
"Well he IS stupid" snapped Martha.
"No, he's not stupid he's just mad," corrected the Doctor.
Martha's eyes glistened with anger.
"He IS stupid" she spat and focused on the Doctor.
"Alright, alright, he is stupid, but that's too... I don't know. What would he do with a child? What would I do with a child? And I don't think he would work together with a Silurian, he never seemed to like them. And either way: It can't be him. And that's that."
"You just don't want to think about it" contradicted Martha.
"No, that's not right... I mean of course I don' want to imagine that the brat it actually his. But it isn't. It can't be! And I know it. I would sense him... I would smell him. You know, that's something I've told you before. You may trick the eyes but a Time Lord's nose can't be outwitted."
"Maybe you should quit time travelling then and start searching for truffles" Martha folded her arms "And if it IS the Master?"
"Martha it can't be him. I would smell him... believe me, I would smell him. He stinks."
"I quite believe that," replied Martha. "But what about this thing the... the chameleon..."
"The Chameleon Crch," completed the Doctor.
"What about it?"
"If he used that one? Would you still be able to recognise him if he used the Chameleon Crch?"
"I'd recognise him," replied the Doctor "Don't worry. You won't stop smelling because of the Chameleon Arch."
Jack slipped into the medical room without being noticed by either one of them.
"But you never know what the Chameleon Arch does," Martha went on "And you can't remember a thing afterwards."
"Yes, but it definitely wasn't the Chameleon Arch. I don't even think he's capable of doing this. It's not very common."
"But you told me about the Chameleon Arch. And I thought it was normal amongst Time Lords."
"Oh, I wouldn't say normal. It happened from time to time."
"Happened? How could this happen?"
"What are you talking about?"
Both Martha and the Doctor were dumbfounded as they discovered Jack standing in the door frame.
"Chameleon Arch?" he repeated,
"What kind of a sex position is that?"