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They'd landed in 1999 (as opposed to 1899, which was what the Doctor had been aiming for) in a park in London. When the Doctor told Martha this she looked startled and said, "hang on—that means I'm off somewhere in this city, doing whatever it is I did when I was sixteen—doesn't that make some sort of paradox or something?"
"Nah," said the Doctor, dismissively as he strode ahead. "Well, unless you plan on meeting up with yourself. You don't, do you?" He looked at her oddly.
"No," she said.
"Right! Well, then. No paradoxes. Let's see what's around, hey?"
Outside of the park was a quiet residential neighborhood. Well, it had been quiet until an old blue Morris nearly ran Martha down, and instead crashed into an ornamental tree, after which a screaming middle-aged man got out, continued forward on foot and then disappeared amongst the undamaged trees in the park. A magnificent wind swept through the trees. Martha and the Doctor looked at each other and sprinted after him. But he wasn't anywhere to be found when Martha and the Doctor barreled in among the branches, milliseconds behind. He had, literally, disappeared.
"That's odd," said the Doctor. "Where could that wind be coming from? The atmosphere is about as far from windy as it can get. " He licked a finger and stuck it in the air. Then, almost thoughtfully, he licked it again. His brow furrowed. "Now that—that's interesting. Tastes sort of metally…metallic. Like a thunderstorm, but there's not a cloud in the sky."
"Are you sure you aren't just tasting the TARDIS? I know there are metal bits." Martha looked around, her adrenaline spiked from nearly being run over, and still wanting to deliver a scathing lecture about reckless driving to someone.
"Nope," the Doctor said. "My taste buds don't lie. What kind of wind tastes metallic? A wind from somewhere else? A temporally misplaced wind, knocked aside from before or after? "
It was then that they heard a child's giggle up ahead, where a small foot trail led deeper into the trees. And then a scream. They were both moving before the noise even stopped. Martha stayed just behind the Doctor, and they could both hear footsteps ahead of them. The trail narrowed, as if maybe it weren't a trail at all, but just an animal track, and foliage started to hit Martha in the face, even with her hands up as a shield, shoving it out of the way. A particularly vicious vine swung back from the Doctor's grasp and hit her right in the eye.
She swore and stopped, holding both hands over her eye for a moment. When the blindness had receded a little, she crashed on ahead, and then out into a sudden clearing. One-eyed, she looked around for the Doctor, but couldn't see him.
"Doctor?" she called. No answer. And then a," Where did you come from?"
Martha swung around to see the owner. She was a small blond girl. Her hair hung loose and she wore a Nirvana t-shirt and too much lipstick and eye shadow, but the cosmetics did nothing to hide her youth. Martha placed her at twelve—thirteen, maybe.
"I came from the street, through the park," said Martha. "You?"
"I was abducted," she said matter-of-factly.
"By who?" Martha quickly looked around again, alert, forcing her still-teary eye open.
"Oh, they're gone. I think." The girl shrugged. "They keep following me, even when I tell 'em I'm not going with them."
"But who?"
The girl looked at her closely. "It's stupid," she said, after a moment. "And you wouldn't believe me. Will you take me back with you to the park? Otherwise I'll be late for dinner by the time I find my own way."
"It's not far," said Martha. "I don't think you'd get lost. But we can walk together, if you'd like. Only I lost someone in here, too, and I have to get him back."
"Your boyfriend?" said the girl, interested. "My mum says I'm too young for a boyfriend."
"Mums all say that, don't they?" Martha grinned. "Anyway, he's not my boyfriend, just a…colleague, I guess."
"Is he ugly and that's why he's not your boyfriend?" the girl asked.
"No…he's rather lush, actually," Martha said, surprised into being more candid than maybe she would have been. "But—"
"Too bad," said the girl. "They'll want him for sure."
"They who?"
"If you ever find him, you'll see. But could you lead me out, first?"
Martha considered. It wasn't more than ten meters out to the road. They hadn't gone in very far. Perhaps the girl had a fear of woods, or something. It couldn't hurt to see her off down her own street, especially when the Doctor was probably just licking trees nearby or something.
"Yeah, all right," she said. "What's your name, anyway?"
"Rose."
"Martha," she returned.
Rose offered her hand—not as a handshake, but like a child before crossing the street—and Martha, trying not to show her surprised, took it. In her experience, teenaged girls didn't want to hold hands with any one as old as Martha. She knew she would have been insulted at that age had someone implied that she needed her hand held just to get out of a bit of greenery.
Roughly ten meters on, all Martha could see were trees. In every direction. Thicker and darker than they'd seemed five minutes before. She frowned and stopped walking.
"This isn't right," she said. "This is the direction we came from. We should be half way down a street full of houses right now." Rose sighed, but didn't drop her hand.
"Ah, well, " said Rose. "It was worth a try. S'ppose we'd better find your man, then. Can't get any more lost than we already are. They usually let me out eventually."
"Seriously, though," said Martha, starting to get annoyed with the cryptic 'they'. "Who are these people and how would they have anything to do with us losing the road?"
"Well, it's…" Rose looked at her uncertainly.
"Yeah?" Martha encouraged.
"It'sstupidbutIthinkthey'refairies," she said in a rush, looking down in embarrassment.
"Fairies?" asked Martha, completely thrown.
"I told you it was stupid. It started two months ago. Kept whispering to me about coming away with them to the wild. Like that's going to happen. Even if mum didn't need me, why would I want to go into the wild? They don't have movies or boys or lipstick or ice cream or dance clubs. Well, not that I'm old enough to get into them yet, but I will be and I'm not going to miss that. I ask you, what has the wild got that London hasn't got more of?"
"But are they like…sparkly? With wings?" Martha wasn't mocking, she was seriously asking, though perhaps a month ago she would have had a good deal more skepticism.
Rose shrugged. "Kind of? It's hard to tell. I can only see 'em out of the corner of my eye, like if they get close, and there might be wings or there might be sparkles, but it also might be trees and sunlight. Mostly I hear them."
"So…if they never show up, how could they have gotten my friend?"
"The wind. It takes people." Rose looked up at her, deadly serious. "It took Mr. Jenk in 102, which, frankly, was doing everyone a favor the way he always looked at me and my mates, like he was imagining us naked." Rose twisted her mouth in disgust. "And when I asked them about it, they just said he was gone."
Martha thought for a moment. Rose's lack of fear at the situation was reassuring, but that didn't mean Martha should be reassured, and that story just reinforced that thought. The Doctor could take care of himself, but there were times when—as he put it—having a traveling companion made all the difference between five nights in jail with an order for execution, or a quick escape down a back alley. And aside from that, Martha was not getting stuck eight or so years in her past.
"Do you have any way of contacting them?" Martha asked. " Maybe they could abduct me, too, and at least then I'd have found my friend."
"I don't—" Rose paused. "They just come. But we're in their woods, so they can't be far. If we wander, they might sweep through. S'not like I have anything else to do until they let me out." She swept her hair back over her shoulder, impatiently. "I'm going to miss the last night of Eurovision, though. Damn."
They wandered on in mostly silence, Rose leading. The one time Martha tried to disconnect their hands (hers was getting sweaty and slightly cramped) Rose's grip tightened and for the first time Rose looked a little uneasy. "Don't—I mean, if you don't mind, we should keep a hold of one another. Then we can't get separated as easily."
So they wandered, hand in hand, through thick foliage and dark canopy, and increasingly strange flora. Martha tried to rack her brain for what she knew of fairies, but the only ones she'd ever paid any attention to had been the tiny, sweet, winged sort, and that was a phase when she was ten years old.
Instead, she decided to talk about something different. If they were going to be wandering until past dinner time (and it had been early afternoon when the TARDIS materialized), there was no reason for them to be bored. Apparently Rose was of a similar mind.
"So what is it you do with your non-boyfriend colleague?" she asked, swinging their hands a little and stepping over a log.
"We…travel. See the sights. He's a little mad, but in a brilliant way."
"Best kind," said Rose, grinning. Martha couldn't help but grin back. She was right, after all.
"Yeah. He's a lot older, you know, and my mum doesn't really like him, but it's not like we're going to get married or anything. He's just like my best friend."
"What's he do—like for work? Do you travel because he's rich, or are you like gypsies?"
Martha laughed. "A little of both, really. He doesn't worry about money, but his…car is pretty fantastic, and he always comes up with a way to buy things we need."
"How'd you meet him, then?" said Rose, with an air of teasing. "He just come up one day and say, 'be my traveling companion!'?"
"Something like, yeah," she said.
"That's fantastic," said Rose. "I want to travel some day. All over the world. Though right now the furthest I've been is Norway, and that was for school—" Something brushed Martha's cheek.
"--get DOWN!" That last was said as Rose gave Martha a terrific push sideways, right into a flowered bush. Martha landed hard on her back, and the wind knocked out of her.
"Oh no, you don't," she heard Rose shout. "You leave her alone. I know you aren't gonna kill me, seeing as how you keep harping on taking me away with you, but you touch one hair on her head and I'm going to wring one of your necks, you just make me do it."
Martha was fairly sure she'd said the bit about them not killing her so that Martha wouldn't immediately leap back up to her aid. So instead, she got up slowly, trying to be as unobtrusive as one could be when faced by vicious supernatural forces that wanted to kill one.
She saw…a flickering. Just at the edge of her vision. But when she jerked around to look, there was nothing. Then there were flickers all around her. But nothing she could see directly. The urge to keep moving her head to catch a glimpse was almost overwhelming. Instead, she focused directly on Rose and could almost, just nearly, see them. But as Rose had said, it was hard to ascertain any real details. Just when you thought you saw something it shifted.
"I meant it when I said I wasn't coming," Rose was saying. "You keep harping on about what a better life you could give me, but I don't see that mine is all that bad. I don't starve and my mum loves me and I've going to do all sorts of things when I'm a bit older, so why don't you lot just get—" there was a crash from a few trees away, and a muffled squeak from Rose as she stumbled backwards and tripped over one of Martha's legs.
"Oof," she said, landing beside her.
"Well, well, well," said the Doctor's familiar voice. "What have we here? A little fairy party? Tease the humans and get them lost? Well, I've just had a word with your Queen and she says to bugger off! Though, of course, she put it a good deal more genteelly, but that was the gist, all right." The voice came nearer until Martha could see him, stretching long legs over tree roots, his face decorated with his best chastising expression and his glasses.
When he spotted Martha and Rose, sprawled next to each other, he grinned and quickened his step over to them.
"Martha!" he said, drawing out the first 'a' in delight. "Thought I'd find you here." He smiled at her and transferred his gaze to Rose, saying, "And who is thi—" and his voice flat out died.
Rose was already standing up, smiling politely at him and saying, "I'm Rose, and I've heard a bit about you." But she stopped talking and started looking wary when she caught sight of his face.
It took Martha a moment to understand what the problem was. More than a moment, really, more like a long stretch of uncomfortable seconds as she connected the stricken expression on the Doctor's face with other times he'd looked stricken, and the final connection to Rose.
"Um," said Rose, looking unsure for the first time in she and Martha's admittedly short acquaintance. But Martha could see it wasn't a frequent expression.
The Doctor lifted a careful hand, paused, and Martha didn't think he was breathing at all. Then, as if making an effort to shift something large—which he probably was, internally—he smiled a little manically and plucked a leaf out of Rose's hair.
"This is Rose, Doctor…er…Smith," said Martha, evenly. "She just saved me from the fairies."
"I heard," he said softly. "Nice to meet you, Rose," and Martha thought his voice crackled a little. "And...thank you. For saving my friend, Martha, here."
Now Rose looked only bewildered instead of wary as she gave him a wide smile. "Not at all. Martha made this whole thing much less tedious. Usually I have to wander alone for hours."
"About that," the Doctor said, and Martha saw him check his motion to touch Rose's shoulder, or maybe her hand. "I think I may have solved that…little…dilemma."
He glanced at Martha and quirked a smile. "I just had an audience with Titania. Though that's not what she's calling herself these days." He looked back at Rose and Martha could see his features fight a quick war with each other, unable to not react to Rose, but unsure of what his reaction should be. "She's letting you go. Calling off the hounds, so to speak."
"So…" Rose hesitated. "They really did want—I wasn't going mad, then? I mean, I knew what I saw, but I thought maybe I was going schizo or something only I couldn't tell my mum because she blows everything out of proportion."
Martha heard him mutter under his breath what sounded suspiciously like, "Don't I know it." And then, in a louder voice, "Definitely not mad, Rose." He extended a hand and knocked lightly on Rose's head. "Sound as houses. Now, then, perhaps we could help you get you home so your mum doesn't worry!" He was back to manically cheerful.
Rose led them out of the park saying, "You don't have to. I know my own way home."
"We insist," said Martha. The Doctor sent her a strange look—half grateful and half pained, but he didn't say anything except to murmur to Martha, low, "Are you all right?" and when she nodded, he squeezed her hand and dragged them both up to keep pace with Rose.
It was a short walk to the Powell Estates, they found. Too short, really because the Doctor was firing rapid, charming questions at Rose and Rose was chattering rapidly back, taking any question from the Doctor and turning it around and it was with a shock that Martha realized they were flirting. It was really the only word for it. It was very like, but not quite like, what she and the Doctor did. It was…charged, for lack of a better word. It wasn't sexual, it was just quick and kinetic, like a chain reaction, or the fall of an intricate domino pattern.
"Jelly babies," Rose was saying as they approached her door. "They're so sweet! I like sour candies."
"Rose Tyler," he said, "Never say you don't like Jelly babies. I know different. Everyone likes jelly babies. They're habit-forming!"
And then she was opening the door calling, "Mum, I'm home, sorry I'm late!" and to them, "You could come in for tea, mum won't mind."
"Sorry," the Doctor said, hurriedly, but not without a flicker of regret so deep it hurt Martha just to see it. "Have to get on with the…uh...traveling."
"Oh," said Rose. "Well, all right. It was nice to meet you both. Thanks for," she gestured. "You know."
She hugged Martha easily, as if they'd known each other for years. And she hugged the Doctor just as easily, and if the Doctor held on a little longer, a little tighter than perhaps so new an acquaintance should, Rose didn't give any indication. "Stop in some time, if either of you come back this way. I'd like to hear about the traveling. At least until I can do it myself."
She gave them a little wave and went toward the sound of her mother's voice.
Martha and the Doctor descended into the courtyard and started the walk back to the TARDIS.
"Doctor?" said Martha.
"Hmm?" he said, hands in pockets, looking down.
"It's okay if you want to—I know you loved--love--her. You don't have to keep it off your face, all the time." And she thought she saw a flicker of tragedy wash over his face, just a brief wave of emotion. Then it was gone. He turned and smiled at her.
"I'm glad I invited you along, Miss Jones."
"I'm glad I warranted an invitation, Mr. Smith."
She linked her arm through his. They were still in the shadow of the building, the setting sun making everything weirdly orange and shadowy at the same time, when they heard a shout from above.
"Wait!" said Rose's voice, made small by distance. "How did you know my surname, Doctor Smith?" she shouted.
"Be patient, Rose Tyler!" the Doctor shouted back. "And you might just find out!" and with that he offered her a sort of salute that, from Martha's vantage looked more like he'd blown a kiss up to her, though Rose wouldn't be able to distinguish from that distance.
Then he turned and settled back into their pace.
Martha gave his hand a squeeze and said, "Tell me the story of one of your adventures together." He shot her a look, but she refused to back down. "It's healthy to talk about it. Please?"
At first she thought he wasn't going to, but then he cleared his throat a little and said, "She swung out over a vat of living plastic to save me, the second day of our acquaintance."
He talked all the way back to the TARDIS, and more, right up until Martha fell asleep, curled in the two-seat chair.
From then on, whenever Martha asked about Rose he no longer looked as if someone had stolen all his Christmas presents and punched him in the stomach at the same time. His first reaction, instead, was joy and enthusiasm, and he never seemed to run out of stories to tell about the messes they'd gotten in to and out of. She could tell that the grief was still there, but it had settled into something manageable, now. A broken limb healed a little crooked, maybe, but knitted good and tight back together.
And sometimes, oddest of all, Martha missed a best friend she'd never had. Instead of feeling sad, though, mostly she felt…comforted. Rose was a compatriot, and just the fact of her existence made Martha know she was understood, somewhere, some when, a shared experience with an ordinary, brilliant stranger.