A few years back, there was a "test" developed, to determine how sound a movie/tv show/story was, from a feminist standpoint - I can't remember what the test was called. It had to do with how much time female characters spend not talking to male characters, and not talking about male characters. (Incidentally, when it was applied to Doctor Who, the RTD companions scored quite a bit higher than the Moffat companions, with Donna at the top.) Overall, though, the show did not pass, because the Doctor was (at that point, thus far) a male character, his presence was pervasive, and everyone spends a lot of time talking to or about him. That is, of course, when he is not talking!

I bring this up because this chapter does not pass muster. I've been looking forward (as have some of you) to Donna and Martha establishing their own rapport. They definitely need to do this, and do it separately from the Doctor. But as I worked through this chapter, I realised that before any of that can happen, they have to try and iron out some Doctor-related issues first. Also, in light of things to come in this story, this is a conversation definitely worth having!

Not that anyone asked.

Also, please notice some nuance in Donna's character. Yes, she's very straightforward and confident on the surface, but once in a while, we see her insecurities peek out. "Why'd you say Miss? Do I look single?" (Planet of the Ood). We all know that Donna is vulnerable (as are we all), and I feel that her bravado is, in large part, a mask. Anyway, in this chapter (and others), she's doing and saying little things that reveal her insecurity.

Thanks for reading – don't forget to let me know what you think!

SIX

In a public lounge in Royal Hope Hospital, Donna found a table in the shade on the balcony. A few minutes later, Martha, looking freshly scrubbed, slid in across from her.

Donna handed her an airtight plastic box with the lunch she had prepared for her.

"Ooh! Fresh berries and two kinds of cheese. And… is this watercress?" Martha asked, inspecting her sandwich. "With roasted turkey on brioche?"

"Yes," Donna chirped. "And I got the gourmet mayonnaise that my mother won't allow in her house because she says it's a bloody waste of money."

"But it's not! There's a huge difference!"

"I know!"

"Wow, thank you so much for doing this," Martha said. "I was facing a second day of inexplicably grey chicken in gravy in the hospital canteen, and was considering doing something drastic."

"No problem at all," Donna said. Then, after pause, "All right, tuck in."

Each of them took a few bites, then Martha said, "I'm really glad you're here. I think you're right about us needing to talk."

"Yeah, actually, there's a couple of things I should probably bring up."

"I think I know what you might say. Truth be told, I thought this might happen."

Donna waited, while Martha stared at an unspecified spot on the table, and sighed.

"What? You thought what might happen?" she asked, nervously after Martha said nothing for a while.

"I thought you might be annoyed at me."

"Why in the world?"

"Well, you know… I am a bit of a third wheel," Martha said.

Donna's jaw dropped. "What are you on about, Dr Jones? How on Earth are you the third wheel? I'm the one watching sentimental girly films on the sofa while the two of you are upstairs keepin' the neighbours awake!"

Martha's eyes went wide. "Oh no," she gasped. "Mrs. Finley didn't phone last night, did she?"

"Who's Mrs. Finley?"

"Prickly neighbour. Overly sensitive to noise. Basically can't ever play music in my flat without getting a phone call."

Donna laughed. "No, she didn't ring, I was just making inappropriate innuendos, as I do."

Martha smiled a bit sheepishly. "Sorry. It's just… you and the Doctor were doing fine, travelling, just the two of you, saving families in Pompeii and whatnot, and then suddenly… you know… I crash the party."

Donna laughed. "Oh, hardly, love! I wanted to talk to you about me crashing your party!"

"No, no, no, no," Martha said to her, quite seriously. "Don't give that another thought. Unless you are uncomfortable…"

"With everyone shagging but me? Well… maybe I am, a bit, but it's not like it's a new state of affairs, frankly. All part and parcel of the single life," Donna said, trying not to sound as pathetic as she felt. "I reckon I'll get used to it. I wanted to make sure you're okay with having me about, in such close quarters, what with the new relationship happening and all."

"I'm okay with it, Donna. More than okay."

"You're sure?"

"The Doctor is intense. I'm a little intense, too. Our relationship is intense. I'm not sure we'd survive without a buffer, to be honest," Martha said.

Donna shrugged. "Okay. Maybe I could see that."

"It's the truth."

A pause. "Hm, well, isn't this funny. Each of us thinking that this lunch was to talk about how we might be unwanted."

"How very womanly of us," Martha muttered.

"Really," Donna agreed.

Then Martha frowned. "Come to think of it, shouldn't the Doctor be asking us if we're okay having him about?"

"You'd think he would, just as a courtesy, wouldn't you?"

"Yeah, what an oaf," Martha said flatly, sarcastically.

They both laughed a bit.

Then, Donna said, "Martha, really. You didn't truly expect me not to understand, did you? The fact that you belong there? Belong with him?"

"Donna, until six weeks ago, he didn't even understand that."

"Yeah, but he's a moron," replied the ginger, flippantly, taking a bite. Then, with her mouth full, "I mean, he's a genius. But totally clueless."

"You're not entirely wrong there."

"He can work out how to deprogram a computer from eight galaxies away, and force it to counteract its primary function, but he has no idea what's going on in his own life. His own heart. Hearts. Plural."

"He's a man," Martha shrugged. "I mean, I don't want to be sexist, but in my experience, they're all a little that way."

"That's true," Donna conceded. "I've met more than one bloke who had to be hit over the head with it. The Doctor is hardly unique there. I mean, you should have seen him in Mallorca, from my p.o.v. He really thought he was just knocking about with you, only to save you from a dangerous alien! And before that, when he'd talk about you, he'd get all wistful and emotional… he honestly believed it was all about guilt."

"It was, a bit, I'm sure."

"A bit, yeah, but there was obviously so much more to it. Fortunately, me, I'm good at badgering people. Especially men. They don't know what to do with me."

Martha took a drink of her bottled water, then, "Why do I get the feeling there's a story or two there?"

Donna studied Martha for a few moments. There were actually a couple of things that Donna had wanted to discuss in coming here. One of those things had been covered... for now. Although, she didn't feel that Martha fully appreciated the depth of the complexity of the three of them travelling together. But, far from badgering her, Donna wanted to be delicate with that particular conversation... keep it light, keep it from becoming the only thing they could talk about.

So, she dropped the third wheel train of thought for now. With this line of conversation, Donna saw an opening to begin discussion of the other thing.

"Yeah," Donna said. "I've got a story or two about badgering men. Did the Doctor ever tell you about Lance?"

"Who's Lance?"

"My ex-fiancé."

"Fiancé? You were engaged?"

"Yeah – don't sound so shocked!"

"Sorry."

"Well, I got him to agree to marry me by brute force. I wore him down. I thought I'd finally found my Prince Charming, and I was absolutely terrified of losing him, of going back to being... well, whoever I was before. Donna Noble, single, no money, no ambition, obsessed with celebrity gossip. I wanted to lock him in. Make him say I do so that I would know where he stood, and that he couldn't get away." She chuckled bitterly at the memory. Then she shook it off, and said, "Don't tell the Doctor I told you that, though… I told him that Lance proposed to me so many times, he wore me down."

"You're secret's safe with me," Martha promised. "So what happened? Why'd you call off the wedding?"

"Technically, the wedding was never called off," Donna explained. "Although, it turned out he had been systematically poisoning me."

"What?" Martha shouted.

"He was in cahoots with this giant spider empress who wanted to awaken her offspring and take over the planet."

"Of course," Martha shrugged, rather sardonically. "As spider empresses are wont to do."

"She got Lance to feed me all these particles that act as catalysts for that somehow. By the time the wedding day came, my body was full of the stuff, right? Absolutely riddled with this energy, and buzzing with excitement over the wedding. The particles, I found out later, are attracted to one another, like magnets. They had originated at the dawn of the universe or something, and are all but extinct - they only existed in two places in the universe: in me, and one other place."

"Whoa!"

"So, about eight seconds before I was about to marry that tosser – I mean, I'm literally walking down the aisle – the particles pulled me away from my wedding! I get basically teleported, only to materialise again right next to the only other thing in the universe that harboured the particles."

Martha's eyes were wide. "Which was?"

"The TARDIS console."

Martha's face registered shock, and delight. "And that's how you met the Doctor!"

"Yep," Donna said. "But, funny story, I blamed him, because of course I did. And I found a woman's jacket hanging over the railing, and became convinced he'd killed whoever wore it."

"Rose's jacket?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I suppose if you don't know him, and don't know what the hell is happening…"

"It was terrifying. For about ten minutes. That is, before I warmed to the idea that he was as bloody shocked as I was, and didn't have any interest in hurting me, and probably hadn't killed his ex."

Martha chuckled. "Sometimes probably is the best you can do. But what happened to Lance?"

"He died," Donna said, simply, sadly. "Fell into a bottomless pit."

"A bottomless pit? Literally?"

"Well, it had a bottom, but when the bottom is at the centre of the Earth, that hardly counts, does it?"

"Oh God," Martha groaned.

"It haunts me," Donna said, staring at her plate. "Watching him fall, hearing him scream. I try to tell myself sometimes that he had it coming – the awful things he did to me, and how bloody mean he was to me, after I found out what he'd done. But he was just a daft man who thought he was doing his job… no one had that coming."

"I'm sorry for your loss," Martha said. "Even if you discovered he was an arse later on… you were going to marry him, so you must have loved him."

"I did," Donna admitted. "He was thoughtful and sweet and clever – all a part of the ruse, of course, but still. And he had a stupid sense of humour… I liked that about him, you know? And he was kind of gorgeous. I mean, maybe not in the strictest sense – he wasn't Taye Diggs or anything. But I thought he was the Bee's Knees, as they say."

"Who pushed him into the pit?"

"Why, the spider empress of course," Donna said.

Martha let that line lie there for a moment, trying not to contemplate it too hard, then asked, "Do I dare ask after the spider empress? And her offspring?"

Donna was very glad she had asked. She made square eye-contact with Martha, and reported, "The Doctor drowned them."

"Excuse me?"

"Killed them all. Drained the Thames to do it. It was horrible to watch."

"I remember the Thames getting drained... the Doctor did that? Well, I guess that's not a surprise, but... he did it on purpose?"

"Yeah."

"To drown a bunch of baby aliens?"

"Yeah."

"Our Doctor?"

"Yes, Martha."

"The one that flies the TARDIS?"

"I'm afraid so. What we saw him do in Mallorca is not even on the radar, as far as how dark he can get."

Briefly, Martha's memory flashed upon the Epidromeas alien, who had verily screwed with all of their lives and loves, to the point where the Doctor tricked it into ramming itself into the TARDIS' hardest layer of forcefield, killing it instantly.

Martha squinted. "The Time Lord? The tall guy with the pin-stripes, and the…"

"…and the swagger, and the fast talk, and the hair, and the first do no harm policy? The righteous disdain for genocide? Yeah, Martha, that's him."

"Wow," Martha said, sitting back in her chair.

"The Doctor, on his worst day, is magnetic. Broody, complex, fascinating. On his best day, he's like a shiny thing... like a bauble. Like a diamond ring. He's..." Donna searched for words. "... dazzling and seductive. Not that I want to put too fine a point on that last bit."

"Yeah. Tell me about it."

"Don't tell him I said any of that stuff either."

"Don't worry," Martha lilted with a smirk.

Donna sat forward in her chair, mirroring Martha's sitting back. "The allure of his life is just… staggering. Even for me. And to you, he's this valiant, dashing thing, heroic sex-on-legs, and I get that. I mean, I don't get it in the weak-in-the-knees, please-take-me-now sense – he's a bit skinny and bird-like for my taste – but I see what's happening with you. And I just want to make sure you know..."

"I do know, Donna," Martha interrupted, with no hint of irritation. "The reason he is all of those things that you just said, is that he's old, and powerful, and jaded, and really, really dangerous."

Donna smiled. "In a nutshell."

"I know. I've seen the Doctor for what he is. I've seen the damage that life with him can do – just ask my family. My incredibly forgiving family."

"Right."

"Did you know that he and I spent three months in 1913, hiding from shape-shifters very much like the Epidromeas? When it was over, I watched him punish them. Someday, I'll be able to talk about it. They were dangerous, and needed to be neutralised, but..."

"Okay. I should have known."

Martha contemplated for a bit, then, "An acquaintance of ours described him as fire and ice and rage, and I think that in a very real sense, he hit the nail on the head."

"Fire and ice and rage are definitely what I saw, the night he drained the Thames."

"I guess it must seem to you that I'm blinded by the bravado," Martha speculated. "Or the tight suit, or the eyes, or the hair, or the implausibly great sex. I do fancy all those things, but don't get me wrong: I know exactly who I'm dealing with, in that, I will never really know exactly who I'm dealing with. He's got so many sides and layers and nooks and crannies that will always be a mystery to me. Partly because there aren't enough years left in my life for me to learn about all of it."

Donna smiled. "But you love him."

Martha smiled also, reluctantly, and sighed heavily. "Desperately. Even with all the chaos he's caused. Even with the knowledge that he could collapse this galaxy into a black hole if he wanted. Even with all the untold angst he's felt, and is still feeling, over Rose, over the war, and God only knows what else. It's all part of this amazing, wonderful, infuriating package that makes me tingle all over. Wow, I can't believe I just said that out loud."

"Okay, Martha," Donna said. "Fair enough."

"I mean… don't you feel a bit the same way? You love him, and you choose this life with him, even though he's a bit terrifying? Decided that the risk is worth it?"

Reluctantly, Donna admitted, "Yeah, I suppose. I don't love him the way you do, but… yeah."

"Thanks for trying to protect me."

"Some of it is about protecting him, as well."

"Well, thank you for that, too."

"I was thinking a lot about you two while you were in Mallorca, after I'd come home. I thought about how potent it could be for you, all those weeks of pure Doctor. How deeply you could dig, and/or fall, how insanely charismatic he is, whether he means to be or not… it's powerful for me, and I've been around the block a few times, and I don't see any sex appeal there. But you... you're a different animal. And you're so young, and..."

"But I'm not naïve. I'm going to be okay."

"I know you're not naïve, and yet… I didn't want you to get in over your head, whatever that might mean. But I knew all along, you're hardly a beginner when it comes to the Doctor, and you're hardly a child."

"Nope. I've got my wits about me," Martha assured her. "But, Donna, don't expect me to be on my guard. I'm in this, and for better or worse. I love him, I trust him, I give him my all. Otherwise, why bother?"

"A noble sentiment," Donna said. "And I know noble when I hear it."

The two of them took a few bites in silence, and then, "So… why are you here, and not off with him, skulking?" Martha wondered.

"Didn't want me tagging along."

"Don't you hate when he does that?"

"Ugh, it drives me bloody bonkers."

Thoughts? Feelings? Let me hear them!

Thanks for reading!