I'm pretty sure that this chapter isn't going to go the way most of you think... but I think you'll like it anyway. Maybe read it during your lunch break, rather than at your desk? Just a thought.

When we last saw Martha, she had been told by Agent Pym that she was allowed to visit the Doctor. So, she had used protocols set up by the Doctor for her own security, and that of the TARDIS, to rendezvous with an agent, who brought her to the Inner Sanctum where the Doctor is being held. But when she arrived, they shut her away pretty tightly, and she realized she'd walked into a trap. Not that she was terribly surprised.

Okay, enjoy!

SEVENTEEN

"As soon as the door closes behind you, you'll have twenty-eight galactic minutes, Doctor," said Agent Pym, leading the Doctor to the door between the hallway and the room designated for conjugal visitation.

"Does General Kir know this is happening?" asked the Doctor, already more or less knowing the answer.

"No, he has no idea Dr. Jones is in the complex," Pym told him. "He wants your help – he'll withhold anything, barring food and water, to get it. Including, of course, visitation rights."

"And you wouldn't want that."

"I would not," Pym confessed.

The Doctor turned and faced Pym. "What about due process? Doesn't General Kir care about that? The fact that I'm allowed to see my partner, under certain provisos, and any withholding of that right would be considered a level-three cruelty on the Orlingus Scale? He obviously rose to the position of General within the Galactic Council, for some reason. I'd have pegged him for a rule-follower."

Pym smiled a bit. "Okay. We can drop the charade, can't we?"

The Doctor returned the smile, feeling a bit daft, trying to match wits in his underwear. "Indeed. How refreshing. So, that begs the question, why are you letting me see her?"

"Well, she's already here, isn't she? Hate to see her come all this way, just to send her home again without a cuddle."

"So, it's all for her sake?"

"Look, Doctor, I'm a nice guy, okay? I don't really understand why you're here, and it's not my place to ask. I'm basically a grunt worker."

"A grunt worker for whom?"

Agent Pym lowered his voice to a whisper. "To be honest, I'm not entirely sure. All I know is, I've been told to make it look and feel like official Galactic Council business, so you won't realise you're being held against your will by an organisation that has no right to do so… though, I'm sure you worked that out well before you even saw the Inner Sanctum."

"I had my suspicions."

"In order to do my job with some semblance of competence, I've done my homework on the Galactic Constitution, and their policies on prisoner-handling. I discovered their laws concerning due process, partnering with the Rights of the Living Treaty and all that. All of it happens to make sense to me. You should be allowed to see your next of kin, or in this case, your Companion, or your partner or…" Pym looked at the Doctor wearily and sighed. "Can I just say, I don't think you should have to be completely cut off from the woman you love?"

"Thank you, I don't think so either."

"And, more importantly, Doctor, she shouldn't have to be cut off from you. She's done nothing wrong, as far as anyone is concerned, so it's only fair. Need more reason than that?"

"No," the Doctor answered. He patted Pym on the shoulder and said, "Good man. Thank you."

There was a pause, while Agent Pym looked at the floor. "Doctor, tell me. Am I helping them do something bad? The organisation I work for?"

The Doctor took a deep breath. "Well, Agent Pym, unfortunately, the word bad is very subjective. Short answer: I don't know. Why?"

"It's just… I know I'm supposed to have contempt for certain species in the universe, and if they've brought you here to help them blow up Shinfang 6, I should be chuffed about it. Or at least indifferent."

"But you're not."

"No. Life is life. Rights of the Living and all that. I'm a harmony man. And based on what I know of you, you are the same. You wouldn't help them do something horrid… not if you could help it."

"Based on what you know of me?"

"I know who you are, Doctor," Pym told him. "Followed your work for years. In fact, I asked to be put on your case. Didn't know I'd have to be the arresting agent – sorry about that. And sorry about what I did to Dr. Jones. The point is, I know what kinds of things you know how to do, and if they've gone to the trouble to get you, they've got something big cooking."

"I reckon you're right."

"And if they're trying to convince you that you're in the custody of the Galactic Council, it means that they might not be able to convince you to help, if you knew the truth about who they are and what they're up to, and that terrifies me."

"Excellent. It should terrify you. I'll try and suss it out, okay?"

Pym stepped up very close to the Doctor and said, "Let me know if I can help."

"You can release me back into the wild," the Doctor whispered back.

Pym stared at the floor. "I can't."

"I know."

"It would mean giving up my job. Maybe even my life."

"I get it," the Doctor whispered. "But it's good to know I have an ally. Speaking of which, where are we on the nudity-prevention situation?"

"Still working on it," Pym told him, with a shrug. "Sorry."

"Oh, well, can't have everything," the Doctor sighed, almost without moving his lips.

Agent Pym's demeanour changed then. "Now, as I said, from the moment the door is shut, you and Dr. Jones have twenty-eight galactic minutes, according to the Galactic Constitution's due process."

"Understood," the Doctor said, turning toward the door.

"You also will not be surveilled in any way. No cameras, no recording."

"Really?"

"Private moments with next of kin – it's what due process dictates. I know that you know it's not official Council business, but I set it up myself as though it were."

"Okay. Thank you."

"And, erm, I'm supposed to tell you that the grids on the walls have been electrified and calibrated to your constitution, but honestly, I didn't have time to get that done, and I wouldn't know how to anyway. Just don't try to escape, because if you do, it will be my neck."

The Doctor nodded. "I'll see you in twenty-eight minutes. You have my word."

The door opened and he took quick stock of the room as it shut behind him. The walls were metal, and as Pym had said, there was a grid lining all of the walls. He reached out and touched it, and was not electrocuted.

He then noticed the bed in the middle of the room, and spied Martha curled up, asleep on "her" side, and one of his blue suits laid out on "his" side.

"Thank you," he breathed, relieved that whatever happened next, at least he'd get to be fully clothed, and feel like himself. He smiled at the fact that she'd chosen blue, and not brown – she had always preferred him in blue.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, just to watch her sleep for a few moments. Upon examining her, he saw that she'd been crying – her eyes were a bit puffy and pink, and her cheeks had evidence of tear-streaks. She was lying on her side with her mobile phone in her hand, which he took from her, and saw that her last call had been an hour ago, from Donna. He reckoned Donna must've panicked upon realising the TARDIS was gone.

She still had a pair of purple flip-flops on her feet, and had put on a pair of exercise shorts. But the most heartbreaking piece of it all was the tee-shirt she was wearing. It was the one he'd peeled off himself and thrown onto the floor the night before. He knew without checking that the shirt would still carry the scent of him, his after-shave, and probably myriad other aromas that Martha would be tuned into, of which he himself was unaware.

He shivered a bit, with the memory of the last time he'd worn that shirt, and the "silence" game they had played, so as not to disturb Mrs. Finley, and how unexpectedly intense it had proven. At this point, he couldn't believe that so little time had passed since he'd last seen or touched her. It had been about twenty-four hours – felt like ages.

He lay down on his side next to her, very close, facing her, then stroked her arm. "Martha?"

"Mm?"

"Martha, wake up, it's me."

"Mm?"

He smiled and leaned forward, pulled back the collar of the tee-shirt, and planted two or three compelling kisses across her clavicle and shoulder.

This opened her eyes quite suddenly, and she threw her arms around him, and laughed/wept as she squeezed him round the neck.

The hug, of course, became a kiss, which was, from its first moment, hungry and clinging. Her relief was palpable. She let herself roll onto her back, and he rolled with her, landing on top.

The last twenty-four hours came rushing back. Shock, fear, loneliness, so acute Martha had wondered if she'd drown in them. Donna had been great, and the Monday morning meeting had been a good distraction, but nothing could really dull the blow of having the Doctor taken from her in the middle of the night. And then, they'd shut her into this room, and she'd been sure that she was now their prisoner and she'd never see the Doctor again without a miracle…

And now, she felt nothing other than desperation and fever. All she wanted to do was make sure he wasn't a dream. She ran her hands through his hair, over his unshaven cheeks, down his arms, over his back and bum. He plunged his tongue into her mouth and she felt it fully, sucked at it, groaned… and needed more. Just more.

He had missed her since he'd been here, yes, and he'd worried for her safety, her sanity, and longed to talk to her and reassure her… but his fervour had been nothing like hers, apparently. Until now, that is. Now, he found her avidity intoxicating, and as usual, contagious. Before they'd even said hello, he found himself pressing down on her, wrapped around her, tongues dancing and searching, with heavy breath and lightning-fast, unambiguous, unrestrained arousal.

He had barely realised how hard he'd become in this one scorching minute. His cock was screaming at him now, and he moved to adjust the only garment he'd been wearing since he arrived, pushing it down, freeing himself.

He never stopped kissing her, never stopped nipping at her neck and chin, and never stopped groaning in her ear… but he was vaguely aware of her wriggling beneath him, evidently trying to extricate herself from what she was wearing.

All it took was one leg, one leg free of her shorts. She spread her thighs and curled them around him, and grasped his bum urgently. He was inside her in less than two seconds, thrusting hard, as though they hadn't seen each other in years.

He clawed at the bedspread in the intensity, and grasped tighter and tighter with each advance his body made into hers.

She panted, and gave high-pitched moans of his name, and words like, "Yes," and "Don't stop." But basically, no thought nor language was coherent. They lunged and slid and collided, over and over again, each clash of their bodies setting off fireworks behind their eyes, and all over. It was like they were scared not to seize each other, and the moment, and the pleasure and the pain, scared that it would slip away, or be taken from them in the night.

Indeed, this fumbling, bursting, impatient fuck… it was not like them. They were much more thoughtful on the whole, and their lovemaking was passionate and calculated, much more driven toward the long-term, both of the night, and of their lives. They'd had plenty of hard, fast, instant-gratification type moments, but nothing like this, and never without any sort of eye-contact or at least hello.

But tonight they were on the edge – they weren't sure there would be any more long-term, frankly. Even the Doctor, who knew the game a bit better at this stage, wasn't entirely certain in this moment that he'd have Martha tomorrow or next week or next month…

They'd been forced apart, thrown back together, with no idea of what the future might hold.

So of course they were incendiary, and ready to burst, more quickly than they'd ever been. He pressed his forehead to hers, and demanded, "Look at me."

She did, and they locked eyes for the last thirty seconds of their tryst. They saw worry and agony in each other's gazes, but also that familiar burning need for release.

Two minutes from the moment when she opened her eyes (or perhaps less), he thrust into her so hard that it hurt, buried his mouth in the pillow beside her head, and held this position while spasmed inside of her, letting go of a good deal of his anxiety…

… and giving her a good, squirming, blurry jolt of an orgasm, as well. She dug her fingernails into the small of his back, and tried to press him down further into her as bolts went through her body, and a loud groan escaped her lips.

He pulled back, and thrust in again as everything about them continued to pulse and propel them into and around each other. He did not stop moving with her until they'd both ceased to tremor on the inside. The come-down was like vibrating liquid, like the throb of the ebb tide… and was exquisite.

When his breathing and heart-rate slowed a bit, he pushed himself back up on his elbows, smiled down at her, and said, "So… hi."

"Hi," she said, her voice trembling.

"Have you missed me?"

She burst out laughing then, a reaction partially to his question, but mostly in relief, and in reaction to the buzzing in her body. He chuckled in turn, and rolled over on his back.

"Sorry," she said. "I thought I might never see you again. But then I wake up and there you are."

"Sorry? Why sorry?"

"I dunno. Just… never mind. I'm happy to see you."

"Right back at you, Dr. Jones."

"I guess we gave the surveillance team a right eyeful."

"Pretty sure there's no surveillance in here. I think we're safe."

"That's what they said when I came in, but I didn't believe them."

"Agent Pym set it up, or so he says," the Doctor told her. "And I trust him. I think. I mean, he's been nothing but reasonable, thus far, and he seems to have an actual conscience. Do you have the sonic on you?"

"Yeah, hang on," she said, sitting up. She reached into her bra and extracted it.

The Doctor winced. "Ooh! That can't have felt good, when I was… well…"

"It's okay, I didn't even notice it," she told him truthfully, then handed him the device.

He held the sonic screwdriver aloft and adjusted it a couple of times, listening to it buzz. Then he clicked it off, and said, "Yep, nothing watching, listening or otherwise keeping tabs on us in here. Nothing organic nor electronic."

"Wow. Amazing. They told the truth. And let us alone. Well, I guess that's why they have the electrified fence."

"Nah, it's not electrified."

"How do you know?"

"I touched it. Nothing happened."

"You touched it and it didn't put out your lights?"

"That's correct." He rolled the 'r' duo whimsically.

"So, we've got the sonic, and there's no electrified anything to stop us escaping, except… they said the door was deadlock sealed."

"Could be."

"But if it's not, then we can sneak out of here!"

He sucked in air through his teeth. "I can't, I promised."

"You promised?"

"If I escape, it'll fall on Agent Pym, and I said I wouldn't let that happen. Besides, I need to stick round here and find out whatever else I can about that time capsule."

"The time capsule?"

"Yeah, didn't I mention?"

"No! I thought you were here on a murder charge!"

"Oh, that was just a ruse to get me here, and make me think I was being arrested, instead of kidnapped."

"Kidnapped! I knew it!"

"You did?"

"Well, I suspected. Thought at least it might be a possibility. Became utterly convinced when they locked me in this room and I thought I'd become their prisoner too."

"You're not a prisoner. Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on your view, in about twenty-six galactic minutes, most likely, you'll be escorted out of here and taken home."

"How long is that?"

"About fifty-five minutes. They gave us an hour."

"Well, let's use our time wisely! Tell me what you've learned! I mean, these people, they're the ones who set up the time capsule? The one near my flat? The one about which the three of us have been starving for tidbits?"

"Looks like. General Kir all but admitted it. Mostly by being a terrible liar."

"So, does this mean we don't have to send Donna into the belly of the beast on Monday?"

"No, because the story Kir gave me about what they're up to… it's complete rubbish. Totally made-up."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. Kir gave me some song and dance about a time loop happening of its own accord, and causing localised pockets of temporal bumpiness."

"Temporal bumpiness? That doesn't sound very dignified. And, it seems like if that were true, you'd already know about it."

"Doesn't it just?" he said. "He said that the solution they've come up with is to run the time loop over and over again over a period of seventy years, between 1938 and 2008, so as to smooth out the lumps, the way a mixer smooths a batter."

"That sounds insane."

"It does, but it could work. It might be a rough ride, but it's not a completely terrible plan. If there were such a thing happening, that is… which there isn't. He says, what they are having trouble with is getting things going again, at the other end. Creating the loop with consistency and velocity, restarting it in 1938."

"How do they even know how any of this works? Even knowing enough to make up a story for you…"

"Stolen technology," he shrugged. "You know that Buford Greene has something that can sense me.

"Hey, you used his real name!"

"If he's working for these folks, whoever they are, it probably means they have much more fierce and manipulative Time-Lordy-type stuff that they're using. Maybe illegally."

"I wonder how Greene fits into all this," Martha mused.

"Don't know yet. But that's one reason why we need Donna."

"Yeah, we do, don't we?" Martha said, darkly.

"Yes. What's with the voice?"

"She's out with Colin tonight."

"Well, that's great! Why are you so prickly about it?"

"It is great. Sort of," she said. "It's just… what if she'd rather be with him than us?"

He laid down on his back and stared at the ceiling. "Then, we let her go."

"You could do that?"

"Not easily, but… if it's what she wants…"

Martha sighed heavily, and joined him in staring contemplatively at the ceiling.

After several minutes, Martha asked, "So, what does the time of answering mean? If these are the people who set up the time capsule with that inscription…"

"I don't know what it means," he admitted. "Not yet, anyway. All I know is that for some reason, they're trying to create a high-consistency time loop, and they're not telling me the truth about why. And I'm going to need to know why. I'm a Time Lord. I need to know why someone would have buried a time capsule, and put time in it. I'd say that's way too on-the-nose, wouldn't you?"

"Yeah," she agreed. "But isn't it a good thing that they can't do it without you?"

"I suppose. For now. I don't know what they'll do if I refuse to help, though."

She turned on her side again. "Ah, what an adventure."

"Life with me."

She smiled. "We might die."

"We might not."

"But just in case we do…" she lilted, leaning forward for a kiss.

He got the hint. "Then I guess we'd better make the most of whatever time we have."

They used the rest of their "conjugal" time quite well, taking advantage of the lack of surveillance, and the lack of Mrs. Finley.

Kind of an indulgent chapter, but I say, we needed it! Big feels, along with a revelation or two...

Leave me a review and I'll love you forever! ;-)