This is the final chapter! The subdued conclusion, if you will. I don't know what else to say, except thanks for reading... And I've really enjoyed writing Donna and Martha together! Maybe look for more of that from me in the future!

So, here's chapter27. The Doctor has killed the Epidromeas... used its own greed against it, sort of. The threat, for now, is vanquished, so now what?

(I think you'll also find in this chapter that I've enjoyed writing for Francine. I dunno... something about the Doctor and Martha having their fun, and Martha's mum getting all twisted up in knots over it... it's just so entertaining for me. Also, I think her trepidation concerning the Doctor's influence on her daughter is understandable, and given how outspoken and occasionally passive-aggressive she can be, it just felt right to have her give them the business in the final chapter. Of course, everyone sort of gives her the business right back!)

Above all, I hope this gives you a few feels, and a few smiles. Of course, I'm hoping you'll let me know ;-)

And, here we go...

TWENTY-SEVEN

Martha and Donna helped the Doctor wrap and transport the Epidromeas' remains to cold-storage in the TARDIS. According to the Doctor, there was an entire planet that served as a cemetery, where one could give a proper burial to any being who could not, for whatever reason, be transported back to its home turf.

"Too dangerous to take it back to its own planet," the Doctor had explained. "They'd be all over me the minute we got within ten thousand miles of the Epidromean atmosphere."

"Couldn't we just teleport in, quick-like, and then leave, before they find us?" Donna wondered.

"They stole Gallifreyan technology, ages back, remember? I'm thinking they'd be able to sense us coming, and put the TARDIS in suspended animation while they gather their forces, and we'd never feel it. The Gallifreyan High Council used to do it all the time with war criminals."

They shut the door to cold storage, and Donna asked another question. "Will we have to answer for this killing, in some way?"

The Doctor sighed. "If the Shadow Proclamation or the Galactic Council find out, there will be an inquiry, perhaps. But that's good. They should look into a death like this, even though they will find it was, basically, justified."

"What would you say?" Donna asked, worry in her eyes.

"I'd tell the truth," he sighed. "It was jumping from human to human, wanted to usurp my influence in order to essentially strip-mine the Earth and leave humankind for dead. Non-corporeal unless it decides to become corporeal, and/or until it is dead… hence, no way to capture nor contain it."

"Are we going to fess up, or just wait and see if they find us?" Donna wondered.

"I don't know yet," the Doctor said. "Blimey, you ask hard questions."

"Well… this bothers me, and I know it bothers you, too," she said to him.

"Yeah," he sighed.

"Though, I totally get that we didn't have much choice," she qualified. "I was feeling right buggered, until we got you back. I mean, it moves from person to person... totally unseen. It wafts. It wasn't like one of us would be able to just catch the thing under a teapot lid or something."

The three of them began to walk back toward the console room.

The rest of the Jones family had long-since left the scene, having been encouraged by the Doctor to regroup, and enjoy the rest of their well-deserved time on Mallorca. Their holiday from alien hijinks had turned into more alien hijinks, and the Doctor reckoned they were in line for some proper R&R, without worrying about dead aliens, time residue or anything other than sangria and sun.

As they walked, the Doctor mused, "It'll be a while before we can bury it. The TARDIS will be out-of-commission for a time. This much close sequential use of the hard shell… she's exhausted. Beyond exhausted."

The vessel groaned in response.

Before they arrived at the console room, the Doctor stopped. They were in a rotunda-like space with several hallways branching off.

"She's going to shut down in the next hour," the Doctor told them. "Shut down cold, and lock us all out. It's the only way she can recupe her energy with any sort of efficiency. The temperature in here will drop to freezing, and even the Time Rotor will go dark. Donna, you and I have got sixty minutes to gather up what we need and get out."

"Okay," she said, heading for the hallway leading to her room. "How many clothes d'you reckon I'd need?"

"Play it safe: a month's worth."

She nodded, and headed down the corridor.

Martha grabbed the Doctor's hand. "Meet you poolside in an hour?"

"Sure," he said, kissing her on the cheek, and heading down a different corridor.

Donna gave Martha and the Doctor a bit of space, just to be honestly, together for half a day or so – they had earned it. And not just over the past few days. They needed hours unfettered by uncertainty, ruses and interference.

But as the sun went down, Donna and Tish approached the pool and found the brand-new lovers sitting at a table, having cocktails with their feet up.

"Hi, you two," Tish said. "How's it been?"

"Heavenly," Martha said. Then she tapped her temple, and said, "Nobody in here but me. I'll never take that for granted again."

"Amen to that," Donna agreed. Then she gave the Doctor a look that said, put your feet down so I can sit in that chair. He obliged, and she sat. Martha made room for Tish.

"We've drawn up a plan," Tish reported.

"A plan?" Martha asked.

"Yes, a plan, for the next month, while the TARDIS convalesces, or whatever it's doing."

"Really?" the Doctor asked, amused.

"Well," Tish began explaining to the Doctor. "We started talking and we realised, in a week, my family and I are leaving. Martha will be free to go, and Donna and the Doctor will be stuck here for an additional three weeks together. That doesn't make any bloody sense, now, does it?"

Martha and the Doctor looked at each other. "I suppose not," he conceded. "In a manner of speaking."

"So, we came up with a solution," Donna continued. "Step one, you do some ultra-clever, geeky, sonic-screwdriving, computer hack work, and get Martha's return ticket to London changed to my name. I have my passport in my bag – just fiddle with the airline's info so I can go home with the Joneses in a week. I'll go visit my granddad – and my mum, if I must – and wait out the rest of the month. When the TARDIS is ready, you and Martha can come collect me – God knows I'll be ready to get out of there by then – and we'll get on with our lives. On to the next adventure… the three of us."

Again, Martha and the Doctor looked at each other. They hadn't yet discussed the possibility of her returning to the TARDIS' travels.

Donna read this in their expressions, and said, "Okay, I know what the two of you are non-verbally saying to each other, and I get that… but really, who do you two think you're kidding? Certainly not me! Of course Martha is going to travel with you again, Doctor – the pair of you can't live without each other anymore. Even if you can't see it, I can. And me, I'm inviting myself as the third-wheel because I love you both, I love the travelling, the TARDIS, et cetera, et cetera, and you can't just abandon me altogether for your ex."

She winked at him then, which made him laugh.

"Okay, point taken," he conceded. "Though, I'd never abandon you, Donna."

"Good. Just make sure I don't hear, you know noises in the middle of the night, okay?" Donna scolded, with an index finger aimed at both of them. "The TARDIS is big. Go find a bedroom that doesn't share a wall with mine."

Tish cleared her throat. "So, between now and when we leave, there are a couple of options," she continued addressing the Doctor, every bit the business-like PR specialist that she was. "Option one: Donna can stay in my room with me, and the two of you can take up residence in Martha's room, and we can all finish out this holiday, as one big happy. If you do that, however, you'll have to contend with questions, eyerolls, innuendos and just general pain-in-the-arse meddling from Francine. The rest of us are cool, but our mother, as you know, is…"

"Yeah, I get it," the Doctor said, with a slight smile.

"Or, the other option is, Donna can take Martha's room, and the two of you can go find somewhere else on Mallorca to spend the next month of your lives, alone together."

"Leo and Nadine suggested camping," Donna offered. "Apparently tent-sex is amazing?"

"Ugh," Tish groaned. "Why? Why does he say stuff like that to me?"

"To make you squirm, and it works," Donna said, simply. "Anyway, the island is rife with resorts, hotels, bungalows, beach houses, treehouses, cabins, B&Bs, even houseboat rentals… you could easily slip away into your own little world, and not have to emerge until you're good and ready, and have all of your clothes on."

Martha looked at the Doctor. "Actually, if you don't mind, I'd like to finish out my family's holiday," she said.

"Okay," he answered easily, nodding. "Donna and I could go off and see the sights or something, if you'd rather just have this time with the Joneses."

"Actually," Donna cut in. "Tish and Nadine and I are going to the Mallorca Fashion Outlet on Sunday. And I'm going to do that hike with them… the one they didn't get to do today. That's what? Monday?"

"Yeah," Tish confirmed.

"And I want you to stay," Martha said to the Doctor. "I do want to be with my family, but also with you."

"Touché," said the Doctor with a smirk.

"Come with us," Donna said to the two of them.

"Count me in," Martha said.

"Well, I'll do the hike, but I'll skip the fashion thing," the Doctor sighed. To Martha he said, "Maybe while you're fashioning, your dad and I can have an actual round of golf, that doesn't involve scrutinising his behaviour for evidence of an alien presence."

"Sounds boring," Martha joked.

Over the next week, Francine Jones asked the Doctor and Martha a total of approximately two thousand inappropriate questions, and pointed out their behaviour in wicked-obvious ways, another three thousand times.

On the night after the Epidromeas was vanquished, the Time Lord and his Companion were (admittedly, avoidably) late to dinner. They rushed into the hotel restaurant, holding hands, Martha's hair having been clearly quite hastily tied back, with her bangs still hanging in her face. The Doctor was wearing a navy blue t-shirt untucked, and his usual pinstriped trousers, though, he had leather flip-flops on his feet, and an absent, harried expression on his face.

"Smooth," Donna muttered, as he sat down beside her.

He gave her a warning look, then apologised to the table.

Everyone waved off the apology with a smile, except Francine.

"Fifteen minutes late," she commented, with a strained, bright voice. "Were you two out and about today? Delayed coming from across the island, perhaps?"

"No, mum," Martha said, indulgently. "We came from upstairs. We just lost track of time. Any other questions?"

Clive made a gesture for Francine to stand down, which he'd done a dozen times in the last twenty-four hours, though she never really took heed.

The Doctor cleared his throat, and set himself to the task of reading the menu. It was uncomfortable, and the rest of the week would probably be just like this, but he reckoned it was worth it, to be with her. Her mother was hardly the worst thing he had ever faced, though he thought perhaps Martha might be the best thing that ever happened to him. At least, the best thing in an unfathomably long time.

And, if they didn't go through this whole Francine Rigmarole now, they'd have to do it later, so… allons-y. Besides, he knew that Francine, in her heart of hearts, didn't really disapprove of him as much as she wanted him to think. She was simply reacting to her very gut-level fear that Martha wasn't safe with him, the discomfort of being confronted with her child's sex life (and/or the fact that her children had sex lives), and the idea that Martha didn't particularly care what she thought about these things.

If she did, in her heart of hearts, think he was truly bad news, he reckoned she would be a lot more aggressive about it. Like, say, slapping his face and warning him to keep away from her daughter…

…barring that, he figured, they were all headed in the right direction.

Though, he and Martha made sure to keep track of time from now on. If a Time Lord couldn't do that, then what was the point of him, after all?

There was a luau-like bonfire event in the resort's main courtyard after dinner. Clive, Francine, Tish, Leo, Nadine, Keisha and Donna all attended, and enjoyed the music, dancing, and free Sangria.

"Martha and the Doctor aren't here," Francine said to Tish, trying (and failing) to sound matter-of-fact.

"Nope."

"They were holding hands under the table at dinner," she added.

"Were they? That's kinda sweet."

"Sure, if you want to call can't-keep-their-hands-off-each-other sweet."

"I do."

"I call it inappropriate."

"Well, to each his own, I suppose," Tish said to her mum, innocently.

Francine gave a mildly exasperated sigh, then, "So, what, are they doing that Volar con las estrellas, parasailing thing tonight? Martha mentioned she might like to."

Tish smiled. "You know they're not."

"They must've had plans for something else, since they're not here."

"D'you mean, there must be something they'd rather be doing, apart from standing next to a fire, watching people get drunk and make small talk with strangers? 'Cause yeah, I reckon you're right. There is something they'd rather be doing," Tish told her mum, with a chuckle.

Just then, a waiter walked past, with a tray of Sangrias. Tish grabbed one, and put it in her mother's hand. She then put an arm around Francine's shoulders, and said, "Holiday. Mallorca. Resort. Booze. You are literally in paradise. Others are clearly embracing it – why aren't you?"

So went the week. The family (including Donna and the Doctor) came to realise that Francine rather enjoyed making the inappropriate comments. At the very least, if she didn't make them, she would be stifling some strong emotions, and that wasn't good either. In any case, Francine had as much fun as anyone, while still expressing her malaise over Martha's new relationship. No-one, least of all Martha, let it ruin the holiday.

Though, when it came time for the Jones family and Donna to fly home to London, Martha and the Doctor were ready for some real alone time. They stood at the bottom of the resort's driveway, and waved, as two taxis drove away toward the airport.

When the cars were out of sight, Martha asked, "So, what now?"

"Well, I'll check on the TARDIS, to see what kind of progress she's made," he said. "Then, the world is our oyster. Or, at least, this island."

"I think we should check out of here, and find somewhere completely different. A bungalow on the beach, or a B&B in Palma or something."

"Both sound amazing," he said lightly.

"Shall we go pack our bags for our next adventure?"

"Sure," he agreed. "You call the front desk, and I'll call a taxi."

She laughed. "I'll call a taxi. Wow. Those are words I never thought I'd hear you say," and she turned to walk back toward the hotel.

He stopped her, by grabbing her hand. She turned back around and he pulled her in for a kiss.

Then he pulled away, and took a breath. "You know I love you, right?"

She smiled, her eyes flooding just a bit. "More words I never thought I'd hear you say."

End

Thank you again for reading! Please leave some thoughts for me - make my week!

I've mentioned that I'm planning a continuation of this story... a (basically) stand-alone sequel that might carry a tiny thread from this story's plot. The Doctor and Martha's newfound romance will stand, of course, and Donna isn't going anywhere for now... so I hope you'll stay tuned!