A/N: Here you go! Chapter 7. Sorry you all had to wait such a long time. Juggling 3 stories and a handful of exams is, to be blunt, not recommended. But... 5 weeks and my stories have all the time they could wish for! The question is: Are you willing to wait? I'll try and update on my stories sooner but I can't promise anything. Oh! Sorry... same goes for Giggles.

Disclaimer: Doctor Who belongs to the BBC not me. (Wow! Rhymes! I'm a poet and... well... I know it.)

Chapter 7 – Bouncing Around in Circles

Rose groaned and tried to roll over but stopped when she felt something warm move beside her. She opened her eyes to find the room dark around her and the Doctor asleep beside her. Rose grinned into the darkness. It hadn't all been a dream. As she moved, the Doctor stirred.

"Shh." Rose hushed, putting her finger to the Doctor's lips.

"Rose." He whispered in reply. "What's the time?"

Rose giggled. "Lord of Time, eh?" she then squeaked quietly as he rolled over her to check the time on the clock by the bedside.

"Half past three?" he looked at Rose. "What on earth are we gonna do for 4 hours?"

Rose, being on the side of the bed nearest the window, clambered over the Doctor to get to the side nearest the door. "What shouldn't we do?" countered back Rose with a grin, reminiscent of the Doctor's own.

The Doctor paused for a second then grinned in reply. "Rose Tyler, I like the way you think!"

"That's Dame Rose Tyler, to you." She chastised.

The Doctor leapt out of the bed and joined her by the door. He picked up his coat from the floor and pulled it on before fishing in the pocket for his sonic screwdriver. He unlocked the door whilst Rose grabbed two pairs of converses from under the bed. Hers, which she had bought just a couple of weeks ago and the Doctor's, which looked like they'd been dragged across a field and through several hedges; knowing the Doctor, Rose realised that this was highly possible. She also grabbed her jacket from where it lay at the end of the bed and pulled it on before following the Doctor out the door and along the landing.

Poppy squeaked as a bomb went off somewhere behind them, and then again when another one exploded, closer. Martha and Poppy looked at each, sharing the same unspoken dread: what if a bomb hits them?

"Pas un geste!" came a shout from somewhere in front of them. A few seconds later, they could see a soldier running towards them, pointing a gun at them, with a few more behind him. Poppy and Martha, who didn't know what else to do instantly raised their hands over their heads in surrender. "Comment t'appelles-tu?" He asked.

Even though Poppy was quite fluent at French, thanks to her small trip to France during the revolution, she needn't have worried about the language barrier between the two nationalities: The TARDIS translated the otherworldly language for both of them.

"Poppy," she answered in a small, somewhat terrified voice.

"Martha," Martha said, "We're not Germans," The soldier clearly didn't believe her, if his raised left eyebrow was any clue, "We just…crash landed here,"

He still looked suspicious and Martha feared that this would be her grave; this was where she would be buried - in a swampy barren land only to be trodden upon by soldiers, even death wouldn't be as peaceful as everyone claims it to be. And she'd be buried here, so far away from home, in the middle of World War 2 of all the times to die in!

"Please, I can prove that we are your allies," Poppy said, slowly lowering her right hand and reaching in to the pocket of her jeans. She brought a small, leather object out. Flipping it open, she showed it to the soldier, "It says right here, Miss Jones here is a Doctor and I'm her assistant." The soldiers knitted his brows together trying to read the text on the physic paper in the scant light of the dying day.

Seemingly satisfied, the soldier lowered his gun and ordered his comrades behind him to do the same. "I beg your pardon, Miss Jones, and Miss Poppy, if you'll follow me, please. It's quite dangerous out here and I'm sure you understand that we have to have the strictest security measures."

"Yes, of course officer. What was your name again?" Now that the threat of death had dissipated, Martha was taking control of the situation.

"Sergeant Thomas" he replied, not pronouncing the 's' of his French name. Warily, Martha and Poppy the French officer, leaving the TARDIS behind, though they wished they could take it with them.

"I must take you to me superior." Martha nodded while Poppy jogged beside her, worried; this was without doubt the most dangerous adventure Poppy had been on.

Poppy shivered in the tent as Martha paced back and forth trying to think of a way out of this situation while they waited for the soldier's senior. They could still feel the echoing collision of the bomb with the earth, shaking them to their core. Poppy had studied the World War 2 of course; she even ventured a trip to the Warfield but then, she never once took a step outside the safety of her TARDIS. The truth hit Poppy with a progressively strong blow with every tremor of the ground below her: this was no history lesson; this was all too real.

The tent entrance flapped a tall officer entered the tent. Martha gasped. The man had sharp grey eyes that studied them with alertness that frightened Poppy. In the next instant, his demeanour changed and a warm smile lit up his features as he extended a hand. "Hello," he said.

"Hello," Martha replied with a poorly concealed smirk, shaking the man's hand "I'm Martha, Martha Jones."

"Hello Martha Jones, I'm Captain Jack Harkness."

Rose and the Doctor struggled to contain their giggles as they slipped out the back door and into the cool night air. As soon as Rose stepped out on to the dew-covered garden of the large Tyler manor, she felt the long blades of grass tickling the bare skin on her legs just above where her converse ended. She dismissed the feeling and instead turned to the Doctor.

"Where to now, Sir Doctor?" she asked with a mock curtsey.

"Now now my dear, patience is a virtue." He played back looking down at her in her white nightdress and blue converse with her black jacket thrown casually on top. "It also seem that the 'wee naked child' need to be taught about the art of clothing."

Rose snorted before giggling uncontrollably. "You can talk! Don't you ever change? Is that the only suit you own?"

"No, I have a blue one as well, so there! And a black one!" he protested.

"Yeah yeah!" Rose waved away his protests and grabbed his hand. "Come on, let's go!" With large, genuine smiles on their faces they dashed silently away across the lawn, oblivious to the second story curtain that twitched as it was dropped and they didn't notice when the person who had been watching out the window padded through the hours and slipped out the door behind them before heading the opposite way.