It was pouring rain when they found themselves flat on their backs in the middle of a deserted park. Sprawled on the ground with the weight of the Doctor on top of her, Martha let out a loud groan as she tried to push him off her small frame.
"Doctor, do you mind? This human needs air." The Doctor, realizing that he was crushing his tiny Companion jumped up with an "Oh," and began to help her up.
"So sorry about that, Martha. Time travelling without a capsule -- nasty business." Martha accepted the Doctor's hand and stood up, rubbing her jacket and jeans to get rid of the remaining mud. She shivered, partly from the cold water dripping down the back of her neck and partly from the knowledge that she and the Doctor were in a place they never intended to be. Martha squinted in the downpour as she observed their surroundings.
"What the hell happened? Where are we? When are we?"
The Doctor sniffed the air before he answered, "From the looks of it, I say we've landed in the 1960s." The Doctor gazed out and saw the tip of a familiar landmark through the trees. "1960s London, isn't that nice Martha?"
"London, 1969, to be more precise," Martha said. He turned and cocked an eyebrow at her in surprise. Martha waved a piece of wrinkled paper in her hand before replying, "Some sort of flyer for a bookshop looking to hire." She then shook her head while she continued to stare at the paper, shielding it from the rain with her leather jacket.
"But that's impossible! We were just at that Wester Drumlins house, in my time!" The Doctor took the flyer from Martha's hand and spoke as he read.
"The weeping angel. Told you not to touch it."
"The what angel?" Martha shouted into the wind, looking at the Doctor who was scouring the area for cover. The Doctor ran his fingers through his hair as he pocketed the flyer.
"Weeping angels. Well, they're not weeping, they're what you would call quantum-locked. The moment they're seen by any living creature they freeze into rock, that's why they cover their eyes. But once you blink, once you turn your head away, that's when they get you," the Doctor continued as he marched towards a vacant bench under a large tree with dense leaf cover. Martha walked briskly beside him, the heavy rain obscuring their vision.
"Lonely assassins, they're called. Fascinating race, nearly as old as the universe. They live off potential energy -- they zap you into the past and let you live to death, while in the present they consume the energy of all the days you might have had. No mess, no fuss."
"So we're stuck here forever?" Martha asked, panic evident in her voice.
"Nah, there's no such thing as forever, Martha. Everything ends, even being stuck with me," he joked. Despite his cavalier response, Martha noticed a flicker of sadness in the Doctor's eyes, a shadow of a memory? She shrugged off what she had seen and filed it away with the other things she might ask the Doctor about at a future date: now was not the time to have emotional discussions. Martha looked up at the Doctor once they reached the bench and sat side by side, the sound of the storm reduced to a low humming, though the water continued to drip down on their heads.
"What are we going to do now?"
"First off, don't touch any more statues," the Doctor said as he looked sternly at Martha's face.
"Oh so it's my fault we're here. Shame on me for wanting to admire a piece of art," Martha retorted, her arms crossed in irritation. "I asked to go to Denmark, and he takes me to Drumlins. Typical," she added drily.
The Doctor pretended not to hear Martha's incisive reply and took out a purple plastic folder from his coat pocket.
"Secondly, good thing we have this eh?" he waved the thick folder in the air before he pondered out loud, "I'll have to build some sort of temporal incursion detector that will tell us when Billy Shipton has arrived. But where to get the parts for it? I'll need some sort of secondary battery, something big enough to generate considerable power, something compact yet durable. A car battery? Nah, too big. How about --"
"Wait a minute -- the TARDIS, is she gonna be alright?" Martha interrupted, her voice full of concern for the Doctor's beloved ship, ignoring the Time Lord's techno babble.
The Doctor ceased his rambling and furrowed his brow. "I suppose. We know that we get her back eventually, it's just that I've never been this far away from her for this long," he mused.
Martha soothed the downcast Doctor with a gentle squeeze on his arm, forgetting their earlier tiff. "I'm so sorry, Doctor. She'll be okay. We'll be okay." He smiled and put his arm around her shoulder, pulling her tightly to his side.
"We're always okay! Now, from what Sally said, we'll be here a while. I'll try and sell some baubles from my pockets that may be of value, so we'll have money to start off with. Of course, I have other means..." He let his sentence linger, allowing Martha the chance to decide whether she would approve of his more innovative ways of acquiring cash. Her frown suggested otherwise, and he dropped the subject. Martha looked away and into the distance, making a mental list of things to do, enumerating them with the use of her fingers. "We'll have to find a place to stay, and some new clothes," she motioned to the Doctor to hand over the flyer, and while she re-read the soggy piece of paper she pondered out loud, "I suppose I'll check out this bookshop and apply for a job. It'll give me something to do while you build your -- timey-wimey detector."
"You sure? I can look for a job too, you know," the Doctor half-heartedly asked.
"Right, and get fired the same day you get hired," she answered skeptically.
"Oi, I've held down many jobs before." Martha cast the Doctor a long look. He scratched his neck. "Well, twice. Well, once. Well, twenty minutes," the Doctor replied sheepishly. She shook her head again.
"Never mind, I'll take care of that. You just focus on getting the TARDIS back and getting us the hell out of here. We'd both be happier that way."
"Yes ma'am, Miss Jones, ma'am!" the Doctor saluted, trying to keep a straight face but failed miserably. Martha couldn't help but laugh and respond with a curt nod, her eyes twinkling. The rain had ceased and the sun had begun to peek through the clouds by the time they had formulated their plan. Shrugging off their damp coats, the two out-of-time time travelers stood up, the Doctor offering the crook of his elbow for Martha to slip her hand in. With a mischievous grin playing on his lips, the Doctor led Martha towards the bustling streets at the park's periphery.
"Now, Martha Jones, another adventure awaits us, are you ready?"
"As ready as I can be, Mr. Smith." Another shiver ran down Martha's spine, the kind that lit up her face and reached her toes. The Doctor couldn't help but react to her obvious excitement, causing him to grab her hand and run out of the park gates, laughing merrily.