The Doctor is sitting up in his hospital bed. He's in Howard's old pyjamas; he never returned them.
The curtain surrounding the bed was pulled away.
"Now then, Mr Smith. A very good morning to you. How are you feeling today?" Mr Stokes asked.
Mr Stoker was a tall man, with an air around him that said that people should be glad to have him as their doctor. Surrounding the man was a group of what clearly were medical students.
And one of them caught the Doctor's eye. She wouldn't recognize him, but he sure recognized her.
For a split second he remembered their night together:
It had been in his Ninth life: the bloke with the big ears, the big nose and the Northern accent. He'd only looked like this for several days and hadn't had a chance to look in the mirror yet. So when he would look in the mirror in Rose's place in about a week, the ears and nose would become a bit of a surprise. His mood had been depressed and he had wanted to stay out of people or alien's way for a while, but the TARDIS had different ideas and she had landed in what he later found to be July 2007.
London had a weird feel to it at the moment. As if a terrible storm had passed, and the city was now licking it's wounds. The Doctor glanced at a newspaper that someone had thrown on a street bench. So soon after the ending of the war, he hearts stopped beating for a second when he saw the grainy photo. The shape of the creatures in the sky was unmistakable: Daleks. But in a small way, he wasn't worried. People were walking along, there were no Daleks in the sky; someone, and that was probably him in the future, would stop the Dalek invasion.
He continued to walk along the streets of London until he came across a pub. It wasn't busy and he was thirsty, so he entered.
There weren't many people. A few tables were occupied and there was a girl sitting at the bar. He didn't feel like sitting at a table on his own, so he hopped on a barstool two down from the girl and ordered a pint. The girl next to him was staring into her drink; it looked and smelled like bourbon. The girl put the glass to her lips and took a tiny sip and put the glass back down. The Doctor continued to observe her. The girl had black skin, and her hair was tied together in a tight bun, and she was dressed in black.
The Doctor opened his mouth to say something to her. But what could he possibly say: 'How are you?' That sounded just lame.
The girl beat him to it. "You look like a fish with your mouth open like that."
For a second the Doctor just gaped at her. Then he chuckled, it was a nice chuckle if he said so himself, he'd never chuckled in this life before this moment.
"Sorry," he said.
"What are you sorry for?" the girl asked bemused.
"I didn't mean to look like a fish." He said back curtly.
The Doctor grabbed his glass and moved to sit next to the girl. He offered her his hand.
"John Smith." He said.
The girl took his hand in hers and shook it. "Martha Jones."
They talked amicably for a while, and the while turned into hours. They talked about loads off stuff, but none of it was personal. They were kindly asked to leave by the owner of the bar, but the man wasn't mad at them for staying long. On occasion he had joined their conversation and had added his own opinions on the subjects they'd discussed.
Once outside, the Doctor and Martha continued to talk. And out of nowhere they were standing in front of her apartment.
"Well, this is me," Martha said, pointing to her place. "Would you like some coffee, John?"
The Doctor hesitated. Should he take her up on her offer? He normally didn't do that, but he liked Martha. She was bright, and funny. She didn't ask questions that he didn't want to answer.
"Just one," he said, and followed her into the building.
Martha led him into her apartment and closed the door behind them. Her vision blurred for a second and she leaned against the door.
The Doctor approached her and put his hands on her shoulders. "Wow, steady there."
"I think that I had a little too much to drink." Martha stated. She glanced up at the Doctor. She liked her dry lips, and the Doctor's eyes went to her mouth. Martha noticed that his pupils had widened slightly.
Ever so slowly Martha put her hands on the lapels of his leather jacket and pulled him towards her and pressed her lips onto his. For a second the Doctor went rigid, but suddenly Martha's back was pressed against her front door, and the Doctor was kissing her madly. His tongue explored her mouth and his hands were holding her firmly in place. Martha's hands snaked down across his back and gave his bum a squeeze, the Doctor moaned in her mouth. Martha moved her hands back up and slipped the leather jacket of his shoulders. At the same time the Doctor let go of her briefly and his jacket fell onto the floor. Briefly he rested his forehead against hers, both were panting.
"I don't make a habit of this…" the Doctor whispered.
"Neither do I, John," Martha whispered back. "But sometimes…"
Martha's sentence was cut short when the Doctor once again pressed her back against the door and his lips onto hers. Within moments Martha was so aroused that she felt that her knickers were wet. Both were now pulling on clothes, whether it was their own or the others clothes it didn't matter. Soon both were naked, and Martha's back was still against her front door and her legs were tightly wrapped around his hips.
Slowly the Doctor pushed his hard length into her waiting and oh so ready body. He stopped, giving them both a moment to adjust to the sensation.
"I've forgotten how wonderful this feels…" he muttered.
Martha didn't answer him, she only took his head in her hands and kissed him. Slowly the Doctor began to move his hips, pulling his length out of her body and back in. Martha pressed her head into the crook of his neck and moaned and urged him on. The Doctor didn't need urging, and soon he was pounding into her.
The only sound that emanated from both their throats was moans from pleasure. They reached their climax simultaneously and dropped to the floor. Martha sat in his lap and started to caress his arm, as the Doctor was caressing her back. Their heads were resting against each other.
"That was…" Martha muttered.
"I know…" the Doctor whispered. "It's been a long time since I've felt like this."
For a while they just sat their. The Doctor felt oddly rested and calm. His mind had stopped whirring with doubts about what he had done. And the girl in his arms was responsible for that. She had made him stop thinking, which was incredible in his own rights. But the reason scared him. He didn't make a habit of having one-night stands. Because that's what this felt like. And if he thought about it, this was his first one-night stand. Ever! And it was his first time with a human. Ever! He was 900 years and he'd had sex with a human just now. And it had rocked his world. Not that he was ever going to do it again. He just wanted to stay away from people for a while and look at him: he was sitting naked in the hallway of a human girl's apartment and it was the best place in the world.
Martha had fallen asleep in his lap. Gingerly he extracted himself, without waking her up. He stood up and randomly opened a door. It let into the living room. He opened two more doors until he found the bedroom. He picked the still sleeping Martha up and gently eased her into her bed. He stood there wavering for a second.
Should he leave? Should he just get his clothes back on, walk out the door and never look back? It seemed like a normal thing to do. But could he do it? Before he could change his mind, he walked back to the hallway, picked up all the clothes that were littering the floor. He walked back to the bedroom and dumped them in a crumpled heap on a chair. Without waking Martha up, he climbed into bed next to her, turned her around and spooned up behind her. Instantly he fell asleep.
A few hours later the Doctor woke up and found that he was alone. There were noises coming out of the apartment somewhere. Someone was making something to eat; it could only be Martha. He got out of bed and grabbed his boxers. He put them on; he didn't want to scare her by suddenly having a naked man in her kitchen. He made a lot of noise as he made his way to the kitchen to prepare her for his arrival.
Martha was sitting at the table, staring at a mug. She looked beautiful, wearing only a dressing gown.
"Hi," the Doctor said.
"Hey," Martha responded. "Would you like some tea?"
"No thanks, I'm more a coffee person."
Martha nodded and an awkward silence fell over the small kitchen. Without a word Martha finished her tea and put the mug in the sink.
"So…" Martha said with her back to him.
"So…" the Doctor said in the same tone of voice.
"I'll grab my clothes and leave." The Doctor said and stood up to do just that.
"Wait…" Martha started and turned to face him.
The Doctor stopped in the middle of the kitchen and looked at her, waiting until she continued. Martha didn't. She could only look into his bright blue eyes and the words wouldn't come to her.
Without making a conscious decision about it, Martha crossed the kitchen, grabbed his head, pulled it down and kissed him. Immediately the Doctor slung his arms around her and kissed her back. He'd been quite prepared to do what he'd just said. But holding her once again, and kissing her and smelling that she was already aroused again was so much better.
He picked her up and put her back down on the table. He pulled at the cord that was around the waist and that held the gown in place. It fell open and Martha's naked body was revealed. His stomach clenched, he'd seen her naked before, but not like this. A few hours ago her body was pressed against his and he couldn't make everything out. But now he could and she was gorgeous.
He pressed his lips on hers again and felt her tremble with pleasure. He took his lips away from hers and started to make his way down. He kissed her collarbone, her breasts and made his way even further down. He pushed against her shoulders until she got the hint that she should lie down on the table; which she did.
"Oh god…" was all Martha could croak out as the Doctor's tongue made contact with her throbbing centre. His tongue worked its magic as her pleasure rose higher and higher and until the line snapped and she came hard and long. He crawled back to his feet and pushed his boxers down. Martha was still coming down from her high as the Doctor, with one thrust entered her body. Martha's back arched with the sudden sensation and she slung her legs around his waist.
Martha whispered his name over and over again. But the Doctor was to far gone to realise that she was using the wrong name. Oh… what he wouldn't give for her to utter is real name. Not that the Doctor was his real name…
As he moved in and out of her body for the second time in just a few hours, the Doctor felt blessed that she allowed it to happen. Both times she had taken the initiative, but the Doctor wasn't going to complain, he liked women like that.
His climax washed over him like a tidal wave and he collapsed on top of her. Martha slung her legs closer around him and held him close.
Out of nowhere the Doctor felt guilty. He shouldn't be doing this. He couldn't promise her anything; not a future, absolutely nothing. Gingerly he pulled himself out his embrace and her body. He gave her a kiss.
Confused Martha looked at him. "John, what's wrong?"
The Doctor ignored her and walked to Martha's bedroom and put his clothes. Inside he was fuming. He was angry with himself for letting it get to far. He should have dropped her off and he should have left. But no, he'd gone and behaved like a hormonal human and had… made love to her, twice. And in a way he felt cheap. He'd slept with a human; him: a Time Lord had slept with a human! Okay, now he was being arrogant. Just because he was a Time Lord, that didn't make him better then a human.
"John," Martha's voice came from the hallway. "You're scaring me."
The Doctor didn't want that. He had to take care of this… he had to wipe her memory of him. He strode out of the bedroom. Martha was looking at him with a mixture of fear and… something that he couldn't identify.
He put his hands on her shoulders; desperately trying to pretend that she didn't have anything on underneath that robe.
"I'm sorry, Martha. I'm so sorry." He said, unwittingly already saying the words that his successor was going to use so often.
He placed his fingers on her temples, closed his eyes and focused on her mind. He began to wipe the last twelve hours from her mind; and as far as Martha would be concerned, she would think that she got drunk in a pub and had just staggered home.
He did, however do one thing, simply because he couldn't control himself. He focused a bit more and looked into her future.
The time vortex? No… couldn't be… Yes, it was the time vortex. Martha Jones was one day going to travel with him.
That was bad. She was going to travel with him, and she would have no knowledge of this. But he had and he promised himself that he was going to show her all the wonders of the universe.
Martha went limb in his arms. He picked her up and put her into bed and walked out the door. He didn't look back.
The next two years went by so fast, but somewhere in the back of his mind the thought of Martha Jones and he travelling amongst the stars never left him. Even the great friend that he'd found in Rose couldn't make the feeling go away…
Forcing his attention back to the present, the Doctor answered Mr Stoker's question. "Oh, you know… not so bad… still a bit… blah." For good measure he stuck out his tongue.
"Jones… why don't you see what you can find… amaze me!" Mr. Stoker said
Inside the Doctor was doing a happy dance. He'd met Martha Jones again.
Now all he had to do was show her the wonders of the universe. And maybe he could give her the memory of that night back…
How was it: bad? Super bad? Please let me know in one of those thingies. You know what I mean.