The tension is thick in the console room of the TARDIS--Martha and the Doctor stand facing each other with matching looks of intense concentration.

"Choose wisely, Mr. Smith. It may be the very last thing you do," Martha warns the Doctor, her brown eyes hard and her voice defiant.

"Martha, why must you make it so hard for me?" Frustrated, the Doctor runs his left hand roughly through his already mussed hair while gesturing wildly at Martha with his right.

"I don't make the rules, Doctor. You never made it easy for me so I certainly won't do the same for you," She says pointedly.

The Doctor, now scratching the nape of his neck, whines, "But why, Martha? You know I can't do what you're asking of me, it's just impossible!"

"Just choose, Doctor!"

With a loud groan, the Doctor steadies himself and begins to reach out slowly while Martha looks on through squinted eyes. A second later, he pulls back and shakes his head. "I really can't, I really really can't. Please don't make me!" Martha crosses her arms and with a loud commanding voice she reserves solely for UNIT missions she says, "Doctor, do it NOW."

With an injured tone the Doctor replies, "Really, Martha, there's no need to shout, you know."

"Well if you just stopped being a little sissy then I wouldn't have to. There's a lot at stake here, Doctor."

"More for me than you," the Doctor mutters.

"Did you say something, Mr. Smith?" Martha says sweetly, batting her eyelashes.

"No, no, of course not, Ms. Jones. Alright then, here I go."

Biting his bottom lip and closing one eye, the Doctor makes his move. With a loud crash that echoed all around the TARDIS, the wooden blocks topple down on the console floor and through the grills as Martha jumps in the air with a loud whoop and the Doctor drops to his knees with a look of pure horror on his face.



The embers from the fireplace of the TARDIS library produced a muted glow that cast shadows around the room where the Doctor and Martha sat side by side. Martha sat leaning on the Doctor while he had his arm around her shoulders. They had just returned from one of their adventures utterly soaked and shivering, and decided to warm up by the fire with cups of steaming hot chocolate to enervate them.

"I spy with my little eye... something blue," the Doctor says, turning to Martha.

"Doctor, that's not how --" Martha groaned.

"Ah ah! Something blue... and orange!" The Doctor interrupts.

"That's not --"

"Something blue, and orange... with windows!" He concludes excitedly.

"I quit!" Martha jumps off of the sofa, grabbing the blue fleece blanket that she and the Doctor were sharing.

"That's not how you play I Spy, you have to describe things that are around you but you do not describe them in full detail, or else what's the point?" She turns and begins to walk towards the door.

"Oh. I'm sorry, I misunderstood. I've met the aliens that actually invented this game, you know? Funny thing was, they didn't have eyes, so it was kind of strange, funny but strange, and when I asked them about it they said --"

"Doctor, shut up." Martha cuts him off.

"Okay, okay. Aha! I know! Oh Martha you'll like this one." The Doctor pats the sofa where Martha was previously sitting. "Well it better be," She plops back down with a sigh as the Doctor puts his arm back around her.

"Alright, so this one, it's long." Martha looks up at the Doctor with her eyebrows raised.


"It's long, and crooked!"

"What?" Martha can't believe what she was hearing. The Doctor, barely able to conceal his excitement gushes, "Yes! It's long, crooked, and it's hidden in my pants!" He grins maniacally. Martha continues to gape at him.


"A banana, Martha. What did you think it was?"

Martha stands up in a huff, leaving the Doctor completely mystified. She rolls her eyes.



The Doctor entered the TARDIS wardrobe, sneaking up on random rows of clothes and slinking past unsuspecting piles of hats, shoes, and other items his previous Companions and regenerations have accumulated through the years.

"Marthaaaaaa," he hollered, drawing out the last syllable of Martha's name.

"We have been playing hide and seek for approximately 2 Earth hours, and I find it quite unfair that I've been doing the seeking for half of that time. If the TARDIS hadn't taken pity on me and told me that you were in here, I wouldn't know where to find you." The Doctor walked deeper into the room and yelled again, "Please come out now, those Gervasian werewolves won't be too pleased if we're late to their full moon karaoke contest, and this time I got the occasion right, I'm 95 percent certain that we're not arriving during their mating season!"

The Doctor was about to give up and head back to the console room when he heard Martha yell back, "I'm over here, Doctor. I got carried away. Look! I found the dress I wore the night of the Laz Labs party that Tish set up -- I had forgotten that I left it here." The Doctor followed Martha's voice through to the far end of the wardrobe and found Martha examining herself in the full-body mirror, wearing the purple strapless dress and spinning around slowly in the matching high-heeled shoes.

"Doctor, are you alright?" Martha asked the stunned Time Lord standing before her. The Doctor realized that his mouth was wide open, so he snapped it shut and loudly cleared his throat, loosening his tie before he spoke, "Ah. Err. Yes, yes I'm fine. Sorry. I just... forgot how lovely you looked in that dress."

Blushing, Martha answered in a quiet voice, "I was thinking that maybe we could go out for dinner after we finish watching the karaoke thing. I mean, if it's fine with you, no pressure, you know."

"I'd like that," The Doctor replied, surprised but pleased. Martha didn't hear him answer as she babbled on, looking everywhere but his face, "I mean it's fine if you just want to hop back in the TARDIS once we've watched the howling contest, really, it's okay. You don't have to get dressed up or whatever, we can just pig out in front of the telly, if you want."

The Doctor walked towards Martha, gently taking her hands in his. Smiling, he said, "Honestly, Ms. Jones. I'd really, really like that." Martha looked up at the Doctor and smiled back.

It was a beautiful day on the planet of Florana where the Doctor had decided to take Martha out for a disaster-free trip to celebrate her return as his full-time Companion. It had been four months since she'd agreed to travel with him again, and knowing her preference for secluded planets with flat lands where she can have a wide-ranging view of her surroundings (a trait, he noticed, she had acquired after That Year), the Doctor landed the TARDIS in the middle of the planet's largest sandbar.

Exhausted from the day's activities, Martha and the Doctor chose to watch the sunsets before heading back to the TARDIS. As they waited for the second sun to disappear on the horizon, Martha and the Doctor entertained themselves by reminiscing on the adventures they'd had in the past as well as posing revealing questions to each other.

"42," The Doctor sighed, looking over to his side at Martha who was sitting down beside him, gazing out towards the milky sea. She looked down at the sleepy Doctor, his sleeves folded up to his elbows and his bare toes wiggling in the soft sand. Martha found it hilarious but so endearing that despite shedding his striped pants in favor of a pair of Bermuda shorts, he refused to take off his long-sleeved shirt, insisting that his Gallifreyan skin was easily susceptible to sunburn.

Martha's mouth curves up to a smile at the memory before replying, "Doctor, you've been answering '42' for the past ten questions I've asked you. '20 Questions' doesn't work that way."

"We've asked each other far more than twenty questions already Martha. The only thing I have not divulged is what color underpants I have on."

Martha raised her eyebrow in response, knowing that if his partiality to wearing tight pants was any indication, she would already know the answer to that question without even asking it. However, sensing the Doctor's sudden discomfort at her gaze, she decided to push her luck.

"So, what color are they?"

"What? I can't believe that you're actually asking me this, it's far too personal!"

"Oh come on, Doctor, you did say that I've asked you every other question there is, so come on, what color are they?"

"I knew Jack and that Torchwood lot would have a bad influence on you. Remind me to have a good long talk with him when we go back to Cardiff to refuel."

"Stop changing the subject, Doctor. Besides, Jack would also be interested in your answer. So. Color? Now?"

The Doctor crossed his arms and grunted.



"Right leg on yellow."


"Yes Martha?"

"Your hand's pressing on my bum."

"Oh. Sorry. Quite difficult to position myself properly when we're twisted like this. Okay, now left hand on red."


"Yes, Martha?"

"That's not your hand pressing on my bum anymore, is it?"

"Um. No. No, Martha, it's not."



"I like this game."


Martha is running. She is running so hard and so fast that everything she passes turns into a blur. She can hardly breathe-- her gasps for air burn her throat and the sand stings her eyes, but she has to keep going. Fear and the need to stay alive at whatever cost are propelling her towards the coast, sensing without looking back that the Toclafane have arrived in droves and will soon kill every living thing in Japan. Martha wants to stay behind and help the injured, but if she delays her escape she knows that not only will she die, but all hope of ever defeating the Master will die with her. She keeps running, the screams of the people reverberating within her head but she is helpless to save them.

Martha falls to ground, twisting her ankle, scraping her hands. She tries to stand but the pain shoots up her right leg and she cries out in agony. In her haste to run away she drops her TARDIS key, momentarily losing her veil of invisibility. The Toclafane immediately find her and begin to swarm around her, the maniacal laughter of the Master overhead commanding them to murder her. She begins to weep not because she's afraid of dying (death is a welcome relief to this half-life) but because she will die without seeing the people she loves for the last time. Martha stirs up images of all those that she had left behind on the Valiant—her family, Jack, and the Doctor, endlessly shamed and tortured by the Master, and Martha was their only hope. Was.

The Toclafane are circling closer with their sharp blades whistling through the air, itching to shed her blood. All Martha could do was close her eyes and wait.

In her mind Martha hears a familiar voice calling to her. A voice that had kept her sane for almost an entire year of arduous traveling, the very voice that had sent her out to do what she has failed to accomplish. She blindly reaches out to that voice calling out to her, repeating her name, urging her to follow.

"Martha. Martha I'm here now." The Doctor's voice sooths his dreaming Companion. Martha wakes up with a jolt, shivering.

"What happened?" Martha asks, her voice trembling.

"You were having a nightmare. I could hear you calling me and I ran straight in here to see what was happening. Everything's okay now, Martha. I've got you." The Doctor wipes the sweat off Martha's brow and hugs her to his chest.

Martha, remembering the frightening visions of the Toclafane, shuddered and burrowed herself deeper into the Doctor's embrace.

"It was awful, that year. I never told you everything. But it was so hard. I thought many times that I would die before I could finish what I had to do, but I knew I couldn't not try," she mumbled into the Doctor's shirt.

"I know, Martha. I'm so very sorry, it was all my fault. I never should've asked you to do that for me, but I had faith in you, I knew you could save us, and you did." Martha hears his voice break; she looks up at the Doctor who was gazing down at her, his eyes brimming with unshed tears.

"I never said thank you for everything. I let you walk out of the TARDIS without letting you know how grateful I was for what you have done. You're a star, Martha Jones, and you were never, and will never be second best to me." The Doctor gently tilts Martha's face upwards and gives her a slow, lingering kiss. After what felt like only seconds to Martha, the Doctor releases her and brushes her hair back, all the while still holding her close. Martha laughs nervously and says, "Is this one of your flirting games again, Mr. Smith? Because if it is then I think I'm better off dreaming about the Toclafane." The Doctor winces, knowing that underneath Martha's teasing tone she still recalls what had happened between them in the past. He shakes his head firmly and looks her directly in the eyes, "No more games, Martha. I'm tired of playing games. One, because playing games was what drove you away from me, and two, I'm much too old to be playing them."

"No more games?" she asks.

"No more games," he promises.

Martha leans over to give the Doctor another kiss. "Good. Although, Jack once told me about this game he used to play with Ianto."

"Really. And what game is this?" The Doctor's curiosity overwhelms his reluctance to know about what Jack does in the privacy of his own room.

Martha looks up at the Doctor with a mischievous grin, "Naked hide and seek."

"…Well, we could probably play one more game."

And they do.