Interlude- Changing Things Again.

Author's Notes: Martha married to Mickey? Now we can't let that happen, can we, seeing what is previously, and will be, going on!
It's time-travel and meddling again for Aggie. Do we remember why they never went out?


This was the right road. Cardiff. The city centre. Aggie was watching the cars rush by, on the curb.

She had been her, for a long time. She was cold and bored and frustrated, but this had to be done. She had badgered Jack further for detail on Martha's ill-fated date with Mickey, and had also stocked up on candyfloss sugar from the boardwalk.

Martha had gone into the back of van, she knew. She hacked into Jack's phone and found the approximate time this would have happened.

She knew that this was the route she took; hacking CCTV cameras and various Internet databases was working like magic.

Suddenly she caught sight of Martha's new car, a white hatchback. She put her hand in her pocket and pulled out her smaller, copper-toned sonic screwdriver. She pointed it at a distance, her enhanced eyesight and co-ordination ensuring that a small speck of light hit the number plate of the van in front.

It was enough. Martha was distracted for a split second. Long enough for her to almost go into the back of the van, giving herself some decent whiplash.

Mission accomplished.

She couldn't help thinking of her friend's immature cry.

TIME LOOOORDS AWAAAY!

She sent a text message to her friend- Emma.

A few minutes later, there was a distinct whoosh from the car park behind her, and a large, black executive car materialised seemingly from nowhere. She watched for her friend.

Instead, a handsome man in his late thirties waltzed over to her, nonchalantly. He grinned at her, charismatically. "Obviously, I am now her taxi service," he said, holding out his arm. "Your transport."

She just grinned and ran ahead of him. "Oi!" she called to him. "Mister 'Master' of the business world! Allons-y!"

He shook his head. Kids. Well, and the Doctor.

It must be better than being a megalomaniac, at the very least. Board meetings and teenagers. Hooray. At least I can bugger off on holiday whenever I want.