The final act!

I will put my "real" grown-up Author's Note at the end!

Except this: I'm a francophile, and there's nothing I can do about that, and I know it pops up in my fanfic a lot! (I'm showing self-awareness here.)

And this: we left off with the Doctor and Martha getting closer than ever. In fact, it was getting a little intense, so they decided to take a break for ice cream!

And one last thing: I hope you don't find the ending too abrupt. I think our heroes were taken a bit by surprise at the end of this experiment, and were surprised at how quickly things progressed from there.

Enjoy!

ACT III

(MARTHA and THE DOCTOR return to the table, each with a bowl of a different kind of ice cream.)

MARTHA: What did you end up with?

DOCTOR: Pralines 'n' Cream. You?

MARTHA: Banana Walnut.

DOCTOR: Oh, I love that one. Banana's my favourite.

MARTHA: Yeah. You know, Doctor, I'm trying very hard not to feel utterly betrayed that you have never before shown me your Chamber of Ice Cream.

DOCTOR: Chamber of Ice Cream? That's very grandiose. Like, "Harry Potter and the Chamber of Ice Cream."

MARTHA: It's a walk-in freezer with over seventy types of ice cream, and nothing else! What would you call it?

DOCTOR: A... walk-in-freezer... filled with... various types of... milk-based confection.

MARTHA: (Laughs.) Ah, yes, very catchy. I'm just saying, I'm angry that I didn't know about it before now.

DOCTOR: Everything in due course, Martha. Not all Companions get to go in there, you know. You happen to warrant exposure to my ice cream vulnerability.

MARTHA: Well, I'm flattered. I think.

DOCTOR: You should be. Shall we continue?

MARTHA: Yes.

DOCTOR: (Consults papers, as he licks his spoon.) Make three true "we" statements each. For instance, "We are both in this room feeling ... "

MARTHA: I feel like we've done this before.

DOCTOR: Yeah, there was something similar earlier. There does seem to be a circular quality to these questions. Almost as though the experiment is trying to get us to evolve our thinking within a short span.

MARTHA: I think you're right, with all the similar questions about family life and upbringing, and my mother...

DOCTOR: And the nature of friendship.

MARTHA: Evolving our thinking. Would that be part of the objective?

DOCTOR: I suppose. (Shrugs.)

MARTHA: Honesty, relationships, evolved thinking. Okay. I'm starting to get it.

DOCTOR: I thought you said you didn't want to know.

MARTHA: I don't want you to tell me. But I can't help but speculate, or try to work it out on my own. I'm inquisitive like that. I guess I can't just sit back and do it, let it happen and enjoy it.

DOCTOR: I'll keep that in mind. (Clears throat.) So, three true "we" statements.

MARTHA: Well, would it be fair to say that we are both seeing a change? A kind of evolution, like you said?

DOCTOR: It would.

MARTHA: Good. Because this whole thing is new. I've never been quite so honest with you, and vice versa - assuming you are, in fact, being honest.

DOCTOR: I am.

MARTHA: And answering questions like this would have been unthinkable to you yesterday, or so I'm guessing.

DOCTOR: Unthinkable? Maybe, maybe not. But definitely much more difficult. This process brings one's guard down.

MARTHA: And, let's see, statement number two... we are both feeling apprehensive about what that means. Is that fair?

DOCTOR: It is.

MARTHA: (Stares at him for a long time, with nervousness. He stares back.) And number three: we will never be the same again, will we?

DOCTOR: (Softly.) I reckon not.

MARTHA: So when I said before that I wasn't sure we'd still be friends when all is said and done... I guess I wasn't completely mad to wonder.

DOCTOR: I reckon not.

MARTHA: (Practically whispering now.) That was three. Your turn.

DOCTOR: Okay. We both care about each other a lot. We always have.

MARTHA: Fair. That only counts as one, FYI.

DOCTOR: The minute we had our first adventure together, we became inextricably linked.

MARTHA: I feel like that's true, but you've got a lot more experience with having adventures with people. Are you inextricably linked with all of them?

DOCTOR: Yes. In different ways. And Martha, (Reaches across the table and takes her hand.) I'm going to say this, and I'm not going to ask for feedback. (Looks her dead in the eyes.) We will be fine.

MARTHA: (Whispers, strained.) Okay.

DOCTOR: We will.

MARTHA: Okay.

DOCTOR: (Squeezes, then lets go of her hand, and sits back in his chair, crossing his arms.) So, to sum up: we are feeling an evolution of sorts, we're both apprehensive about it, and we will never be the same again. But, we care about each other, are inextricably linked, and we will be okay.

MARTHA: (Smiles.) When you edit out the rubbish, it doesn't sound so bad.

DOCTOR: No, in fact, it sounds rather good. Funny how editing-out-the-rubbish can work.

MARTHA: Indeed. (Consults papers.) Complete this sentence: "I wish I had someone with whom I could share ..."

DOCTOR: (Puts hands in lap and stares down at them.) Everything.

MARTHA: Everything?

DOCTOR: Everything. I wish I had someone with whom I could share everything.

MARTHA: Is that even possible for you?

DOCTOR: (Looks up at the ceiling contemplatively, taking in a deep breath.) Well, I suppose... it's not. Technically.

MARTHA: That's why I said earlier, I wish I could wake up tomorrow with the ability to keep up with you.

DOCTOR: (Still staring up, and otherwise avoiding her eye.) Keeping up with me. Time and space. These aren't the things that matter in the long run.

MARTHA: No?

DOCTOR: No.

MARTHA: Then what things do matter?

DOCTOR: (Finally looks at her.) Things like this, I suppose. Sharing thoughts and histories. Sharing my insides, which are... (Chuckles.) bigger than my outsides.

MARTHA: (Chuckles also.) You stole that joke from me.

DOCTOR: Can't we share that too?

MARTHA: (Laughs.) Yes, I suppose we can. What else?

DOCTOR: What do you mean?

MARTHA: I don't know, I just thought you had more to say.

DOCTOR: (Thinks.) Well, maybe. Actually, nah. Never mind. Let's move on. You finish the sentence now.

MARTHA: Er, okay. I wish I had someone with whom I could share... well, like you said, everything. And I'll just say... my insides and my outsides.

DOCTOR: (Raising an eyebrow.) Saucy.

MARTHA: Come on, Doctor. I suspect that when you had more to say, then changed your mind... that's what went unsaid. Isn't it?

DOCTOR: Yeah. Yeah, it is.

MARTHA: We've talked about wishes and hopes, and finding love. None of this should be a revelation, should it? It's cerebral and it's physical - all part of the package.

DOCTOR: True. I guess sometimes I have problems talking about it, I mean, just coming out and saying it. I don't know why.

MARTHA: Well, you're old.

DOCTOR: (Laughs. Consults papers.) If you were going to become a close friend with your partner, please share what would be important for him or her to know.

MARTHA: If I were going to? Well, this experiment doesn't think much of us, does it?

DOCTOR: I suppose it doesn't necessarily assume that its subjects will already be quite close. Which is interesting, if you know the intent of the questions.

MARTHA: Well, since we're already pretty close friends, let's deconstruct the question.

DOCTOR: All right. (Pause.) Wait, what?

MARTHA: What's the question really asking? I think it's asking: In a close friendship, what sorts of things do you imagine would become a problem, an impediment to the friendship, should the other party come upon that knowledge by surprise.

DOCTOR: Ah, I see what you're saying. You're right - I think that's exactly what it's asking.

MARTHA: So what sorts of things have become a problem in our friendship?

DOCTOR: I asked you first.

MARTHA: (Sighs, grows nervous.) Okay, honesty, right?

DOCTOR: Yes.

MARTHA: (Pauses, as if gathering the nerve.) I find you very sexy. Very, very.

DOCTOR: (Chuckles.) And that's a problem?

MARTHA: Aren't you even going to pretend to be surprised?

DOCTOR: Okay, sorry. (Affects a surprised air, and raises his voice an octave.) Oh, goodness me - really, Martha?

MARTHA: Shut up.

DOCTOR: (Chuckles again.) How is it a problem, then?

MARTHA: It makes my end of the friendship harder. I constantly feel on-guard.

DOCTOR: Oh. Sorry.

MARTHA: (Smiles sheepishly.) Why are you sorry? What's the solution? Ask you to dress differently, style your hair differently? Move differently? Stop being you? Pfff.

DOCTOR: Okay, not sorry. Mwa-ha-ha.

MARTHA: (Sits back and gestures for him to speak.)

DOCTOR: Well, for my part, I would ordinarily say that the first thing you should know about me is that I'm not human. But knowing you as I do, I can say that my non-humanness has not been a problem for us, and never would be a problem. So, let's see... well, in light of... things... I guess what you probably should know is that I've been trying to get over a loss, and I'm still a bit raw.

MARTHA: An excellent choice of revelation, Doctor. That is definitely something I would have liked to have known outright, before climbing aboard. Though this information alone would not have given me any idea that your scars are as deep as they are.

DOCTOR: All right, I see. In that case... I had someone in my life whom I loved very much, and she was taken from me. She didn't die - she was just shut out, to a place where I cannot ever get her back. And I never got a chance to tell her how I felt. Actually, that's not true. I did get a chance - I was just too bloody slow, and I have serious guilt and regret over that, and about a hundred other related things.

MARTHA: Too bloody slow?

DOCTOR: (Slows down, realising how much he's just said. Looks into his ice cream bowl with emptiness, with a scowl.)

MARTHA: It's okay - you don't have to tell me any more.

DOCTOR: Yes, I do. We're down the rabbit hole now, Martha. (Deep breath. Long pause. Begins speaking mechanically.) Canary Wharf. The same day that you lost your cousin. The breach between universes was open, and I had magnetised it, so as to suck in anything that had been through it before - and that included me and her. Rose. She got pulled of her feet and was about to fly into nothingness, into the only thing the Time Lords believed could come close to a literal hell. At the last second, her father saved her, and used this device to blip them into a parallel universe. That was literally a split second before the breach closed forever, and all breaches between universes.

MARTHA: Oh my God.

DOCTOR: Not even the TARDIS can universe-hop when all things are stable. The fact that we were ever able to do at all, it was a very bad sign - it meant that the fabric of reality was, well, fractured. In a lot of places. Remember the ghosts at that time? They were coming through the cracks all over the world. But once everything went back to the way it should be, and the breach slammed shut, to get Rose back would have meant ripping holes where they don't belong, and literally risking destruction of both universes.

MARTHA: (Contemplates him.) My God, Doctor. If you're this damaged, what is life like for her?

DOCTOR: I thought about that a lot after it happened. It was a very violent way for us to be separated. I couldn't... (Swallows hard, tries again.) I couldn't bear the idea of not having that closure, or of denying it to her. I felt I couldn't leave it the way it was - the last glimpse either one of us had of the other was reaching toward one another and screaming in horror.

MARTHA: (Swallows hard herself.) Oh... I'm sorry.

DOCTOR: I was so angry with myself, just depressed beyond belief, for weeks. I was angry because I'd forgotten what this life could be like. The two of us, we had... we'd been too silly for too long. Careless. With our actions, with our emotions, with everything... and that's what caused this. The universe wouldn't have it.

MARTHA: Are you talking about karma?

DOCTOR: Maybe. (Another quick, deep breath, crosses his arms.) But, you know, I might have been able to live with it, and so would she. Instead, I made it worse. I located a tiny crack in the fabric of reality, and burned up a whole bunch of energy, knowing that I only had a few minutes, to project myself as a hologram onto her world, just to say goodbye. I burned out an unused sun to do it.

MARTHA: You reached out. Because she literally couldn't.

DOCTOR: (Nods.) That was the idea. She stood there and wept... tight, hard sobs, a kind I've never seen anyone do before or since - it was horrible. Like a carbonated liquid shaken in a plastic bottle. And she screwed up her courage... like she had to run up a mountain to do it. She lost her nerve and tried again... (Stops, takes a deep breath to keep emotions in check.)

MARTHA: It's okay, Doctor.

DOCTOR: ...and she told me she loved me. It was nothing I hadn't known, but it still hit me like a ton of bricks. And I got ready to say it back, but I gave it too much preamble, I used too much time to try and make it... I don't know, more ceremonious? More meaningful? And all I could get out was her name before the energy ran out, and the crack closed and all breaches got sealed off again.

MARTHA: (Instinctively leaning forward.) Oh, but she knew how you felt, Doctor. How could she not?

DOCTOR: Aw, Martha, you know me. I'm not the most transparent guy. What if she didn't know? What if she just suspected, and now will never know for certain?

MARTHA: Well, what the hell else does she think you could have been getting ready to say, if she had just said she loved you, and you were being all ceremonial?

DOCTOR: I don't know.

MARTHA: I wish there were something I could say, Doctor.

DOCTOR: (A long, heavy silence. He speaks, at least at first, almost without moving his lips.) I suppose this is why I've been such a prat to you for so long. She was lovely and unique, and innocent... and also, actually, really annoying sometimes. But we had some amazing runs, and I had allowed myself to be lulled into believing that we could be together for a long, long time. Like, I could help her grow old. I thought we'd have her whole life, to do what needed doing, say what needed saying. And not only did I lose all of that in the blink of an eye, but I also had no closure - twice!- and I left her with none, twice as well. I created more questions than I answered. I hurt her even more with that whole hologram business. And afterwards, I scolded myself even worse for being stupid enough to believe... stupid enough to trust myself with that kind of relationship.

MARTHA: Oh, Doctor.

DOCTOR: (Suddenly looks at her squarely, with tears in his eyes.) So, Martha, listen to me. Any kind of "slight" you may have perceived as coming from me... it's nothing to do with you. You are brilliant. You are amazing. You... well, if I'm honest, objectively, you are a much better match for me than she was. Which, actually, isn't saying much because she wasn't a great match for me, if all you do is add up the numbers. But it is, really saying a lot, because you... you're everything good that she was, and more. It's about me, Martha. I am like a hurricane when it comes to other people's hearts and lives. I feel like can't trust me, no matter how badly I want to trust you.

MARTHA: (Near tears now, barely able to speak). I thought, all this time...

DOCTOR: That I've just been a blunt instrument?

MARTHA: Yeah.

DOCTOR: I'm not a blunt instrument, I can assure you.

MARTHA: (Smiling sheepishly.) I'm sorry if I've been all pouty over it - I didn't understand.

DOCTOR: There's no reason why you should. It's all my fault, Martha. All the misery you've felt since you've been with me - my fault. I just wanted someone clever to travel with, so I chose you. (Soft smile.) Of course, it didn't hurt that you're also kind of gorgeous. The point is, it didn't take me too terribly long to realise what was on your mind, and yet... I guess I was crippled. Too paralyzed by everything to say or do the right thing.

MARTHA: (Very, very softly, with apprehension.) The right thing. Which is what?

DOCTOR: I don't know anymore. I don't think I've ever quite known. But, I'll tell you, I think this experiment is a step in the right direction.

MARTHA: (Breaks eye-contact, a bit overwhelmed.) Well, in any case, thank you for giving me a bit of context. I suppose, since I do trust you, I should have trusted that this would all come to light in its time, but... I really needed that.

DOCTOR: Context. I guess that's what the question was all about. For what do people need context, in order to understand us well?

MARTHA: Exactly. And it's better late than never, right?

DOCTOR: (Smiles lightly.) I suppose.

MARTHA: (Consults papers.) Tell your partner what you like about them; be very honest this time, saying things that you might not say to someone you've just met.

DOCTOR: (Smiles again, this time with real affection.) Again, I feel like I've said it.

MARTHA: What?

DOCTOR: I'm running out of ways to say "brilliant." And, you're beautiful. Like china-doll beautiful, Martha. I'm guessing you've been told it before, a thousand times even before today, but I'm still not sure if you know it or not. You act like you have no idea. Which is another thing I like about you.

MARTHA: (Opens her mouth, but cannot seem to respond.)

DOCTOR: But you're also... just so nice. It's your amazing upbringing, with parents who were liberal with their affections and praise, wanting you to be comfortable in your own skin. It's the part of you that never just decided one day to become a doctor, but has always known that the spirit of healing others has been in you always. It's like... you've managed to take "brilliant" and "nice" and combine them as an art form, or something.

MARTHA: (Still speechless.)

DOCTOR: Blimey, that all sounded camp, but it's also very, very true. (Smiles.) I'll take the shocked look on your face as a "thank you," and a sign of quiet humility. Your turn.

MARTHA: (Stutters a bit.) Erm, what do I like about you? It would be easier just to isolate the one or two things that I slightly don't like.

DOCTOR: If you must, but try not to be too effusive about it.

MARTHA: Okay. Well, until today, I would have said that you're much too secretive, and not very sensitive.

DOCTOR: Fair enough.

MARTHA: But we both know that the latter is not true at all, and the former is no longer the case. Let's see, you chew a bit loudly, and it might be nice to see you wear something else once in a while, but both of those things I've more or less got used to.

DOCTOR: (After waiting a long while for her to continue.) Is that it?

MARTHA: Well, what do you want from me? I like almost everything about you! We've already established that I'm fond of the way you look, the way you move, the way you talk and think. I like the fact that you've devoted your very long life to troubleshooting the known universe! I even like your non-humanness! I like how you mop up the sugar at the bottom of your espresso with your index and middle fingers, then suck it off.

DOCTOR: You've noticed that?

MARTHA: Of course I have! It drives me to distraction! And I like those stupid pink striped pyjamas that you wear, and the fact that even though you've worn them for several years and have no idea who Howard is, you still call them "Howard's" pyjamas.

DOCTOR: To be fair, I know who Howard is, I've just never met him.

MARTHA: Whatever - it's charming. I like the way you kiss. I like the way you dance.

DOCTOR: Dance?

MARTHA: Yeah, we went dancing in 1969, remember? You're not great at it, but I liked it because it was you. (Exasperated sigh.) I just can't say what I like about you, Doctor, sorry. It's just too much to ask! Too much!

DOCTOR: Okay, okay, no need to get all wound up. I think you've managed to answer the question just fine. (Consults papers.) Share with your partner an embarrassing moment in your life.

MARTHA: Besides this one?

DOCTOR: This isn't embarrassing. Now, come on. Spill.

MARTHA: Ugh. Have you got any alcohol?

DOCTOR: Seriously?

MARTHA: (Sighs.) No, I suppose not. (Thinks.) All right, I'll deliver, but you'd better reciprocate with something big, Mister. Got it?

DOCTOR: Got it.

MARTHA: Well, remember how I said that losing my virginity was not one of my most cherished memories?

DOCTOR: Yes. Oh, this is very, very promising!

MARTHA: Okay, I was eighteen, just finishing up my gap year in Sweden.

DOCTOR: Why Sweden?

MARTHA: They had a really good hospital internship thing for post-secondary students headed to uni, who were serious about about medicine as a career. Anyway, I'd become friends with this bloke named Albin, who was a fellow intern from Geneva, Switzerland. Albin, as it turned out, was gay.

DOCTOR: Okay. That did not go the way I thought it would.

MARTHA: But, his friend Rémi was not. He introduced me to Rémi in the last three weeks before our internship was to end, and we were all supposed to get on a plane and head home. Rémi was twenty-one, so a big, sophisticated - at least to my eighteen-year-old palate - Swiss university student, who also happened to be smoking hot. Or at least, I thought so at the time. Looking back now, I'm not so sure. He had just arrived in Stockholm, he and Albin had grown up together.

DOCTOR: Oh. I'm guessing that little tidbit figures into the story later.

MARTHA: Correct. Albin wanted Rémi to feel welcome, so he gathered a bunch of people, including me, to take Rémi out to dinner his first week in town. And what can I say? Rémi liked me, and I liked him. Almost from the moment we met, he began firing both barrels at me, and I fired back. I thought he was nice, and he was clever, and I really do think that he was - is - a human being of actual substance, it's just... well, everyone involved was just so young. It's hard to be substantial when your hormones are raging.

DOCTOR: Very well-put.

MARTHA: We went out on three dates in my last two weeks in Stockholm, the third of which was on my last night. Before even leaving my flat, I decided two things: one, I was finally going to try out my French on him, even though he spoke English fine. And two, I was probably going to sleep with him, unless something went horribly wrong.

DOCTOR: Wow. Women actually do that?

MARTHA: Yep. All the time. The thing is, the more I thought about it, the more I didn't fancy the idea of going back to London as a virgin, and maybe losing it to some boring English guy.

DOCTOR: Martha!

MARTHA: I know, I know, but just let me finish, 'cause I haven't even got to the embarrassing part yet. So, one of the problems was, I had only had three years of French, and it had been very by-the-book, classroom French. I knew how to use it, basically, but I wasn't confident, and I didn't know any colloquial language. But I really wanted to impress him - leave my mark, as it were.

DOCTOR: I think I might see where this is going.

MARTHA: Yeah, you probably do. Anyway, I went to this flat that he shared with two other guys, and, thankfully, they had cleared out, so we were there alone. After gathering up my courage, I said "bonsoir" to him, and we exchanged a few basic pleasantries in French, and he responded well, complimented my accent, and I felt pretty confident! Over dinner, we spoke a bit more in French, falling apart a few times and reverting to English because I couldn't speak fast enough or say what I wanted... but I was feeling okay about it. I knew I was making mistakes, but I was communicating, and impressing my date! Two glasses of wine didn't hurt either.

DOCTOR: (Nods, smiles, expectantly.)

MARTHA: (Explaining a bit sheepishly now.) So, after dinner, we go to the sofa, ostensibly to chat, but we both know that's not why. Eventually, he's moved so close to me, I can feel his breath on my cheek. He's being all sweet and smooth, telling me about how hard it could have been, coming to a new city, were it not for meeting me. Feeling brave, I whispered, all sultry and low, "Je veux que tu me baises."

DOCTOR: (Groans, half-laughing.)

MARTHA: I thought I was saying I wanted him to kiss me.

DOCTOR: And you'd be well within your rights to think that.

MARTHA: But I was wrong. Fortunately, what I actually said... well, I more or less wanted that too. I just didn't realise until later the mistake I'd made.

DOCTOR: Oh, Martha.

MARTHA: No, wait. It gets worse. So, he kisses me, because I think, in spite of my error, he knew what I meant. And we have a good snog, then after a bit, we move things into the bedroom. I've already got my top off, and he looks down at me and says, "As-tu un préservatif?"

DOCTOR: (Laughs.) An understandable misconception for a native-speaker of English.

MARTHA: So I frowned, a bit confused, and answered in English, "No, it's all mine."

DOCTOR: What?

MARTHA: I dunno! I thought he was asking if I had been chemically enhanced somehow, like maybe my breasts were fake. Which was really weird, because they're not that spectacular. So, he frowns back at me, likely just as confused, as you were a moment ago. So, he gets up, goes into the other room, and I hear him rifling through a bunch of boxes, which he has yet to unpack, and he comes back with a condom. Because, of course he does, right?

DOCTOR: Right. So if he had one, why did he ask?

MARTHA: I guess because they were still packed? Anyway, things at this point are getting really hot and heavy, and he basically groans into my ear, "Je veux m'introduire à toi."

DOCTOR: (Groans, and covers face.)

MARTHA: Which, if I'd known what it really meant, under the circumstances, might have been kind of hot. Unfortunately, I didn't know, and trying to be sexy and clever, and give him some innuendo to chew on, I said something like, "I think you already did that a couple of weeks ago, but I'm ready to learn new things about you."

DOCTOR: Oh, Martha. You would have been better off with a boring English guy.

MARTHA: (Sighing, matter-of-factly.) So, we had sex. It lasted about, oh, ten minutes. And let's just say... it was a more satisfying experience for him than it was for me.

DOCTOR: Well, that's typical.

MARTHA: Yeah, I suppose. Afterwards, we had Tiramisù and coffee for dessert, but he kept steering me away from speaking French. Which was fine with me - I was pretty tired, in spite of not having exactly exerted myself. Then we kissed each other goodbye and I went back to my own flat to pack. I didn't feel bad or regretful or disappointed... until the next day.

DOCTOR: Uh-oh.

MARTHA: Most of the interns were flying out of Stockholm on the same day, so in the morning, we all got together at this breakfast place near the aeroport and had one last meal together. When I saw Albin, I said, "Guess what I did!" And he started laughing and said he already knew. And he also said, in front of everyone, "For future reference, 'baiser' is to fuck, a 'préservatif' is a condom, and 'm'introduire' means to insert myself."

DOCTOR: Oh. So your friend delivered the bad news with a great deal of tact.

MARTHA: Oh, yes, a great deal. I was so mortified, I wouldn't speak to him for the rest of the breakfast, and I didn't say goodbye to him at the aeroport. I still have never spoken to either of them again. I was angry at all things French for a while.

DOCTOR: How very English of you. But why not all things Swiss?

MARTHA: I blamed the language.

DOCTOR: You blamed the language itself?

MARTHA: Of course! When you literally say, "I want to introduce myself to you," and what you mean is, "I want to insert myself into you"... what kind of sense does that make? It's like they're deliberately laying traps for non-native French-speakers!

DOCTOR: Well, I wouldn't put it past them.

MARTHA: And what kind of language has a word that, as a noun means an innocent kiss, but as a verb, is the most vulgar possible word for sexual intercourse?

DOCTOR: (Smirk.) A very good point.

MARTHA: And "préservatif?" What do they think they're "preserving" with those things, exactly? The rubber industry?

DOCTOR: I'm sure I do not know, Martha. (Chuckles.)

MARTHA: (Sigh.) So, no more sex in French for me. (Pausing, sitting up straight.) Okay, sir. I just gave you some juicy material.

DOCTOR: Okay, well, speaking of sex in French...

MARTHA: Is this the Versailles story?

DOCTOR: Sort of, but it's not what you think.

MARTHA: Carry on.

DOCTOR: Is it all right if I just confess something a bit shameful? A time when I was a huge, huge idiot, and things could have gone horribly wrong? When I showed the least amount of good-judgment and/or self-restraint in recent memory, and the only reason I lived to tell the tale was just dumb luck? Or, the universe, again, telling me to check myself?

MARTHA: So, a story in which nothing embarrassing ended up happening?

DOCTOR: Not exactly, but it's something I've never told anyone because I've been too ashamed.

MARTHA: Okay. Go.

DOCTOR: (Deep breath.) A while back, Rose and Mickey and I discovered a ship in which there were a number of time portals. We were in the fifty-first century in space, and the portals led to different points in the eighteenth century, on Earth. They were dotted all along the life of a particular woman: Jeanne-Antoinette Poisson, also known as Madame de Pompadour, official mistress to Louis XV of France.

MARTHA: Yep. I know who that is. I took French in school, remember?

DOCTOR: How could I forget? Well, the first portal opened upon her childhood, and I saved her from... well, it's a long story, but there was a mind-probing robot under her bed.

MARTHA: Ugh - under the bed of a child?

DOCTOR: Charming, isn't it? So, from the time she was seven years old, she was a little infatuated with me. Okay, a lot infatuated. And over the course of the next thirty years, which was less than a whole day from my fifty-first-century spaceship point of view, I grew a little infatuated with her as well.

MARTHA: (Teasing.) Was it her reputation that drew you in, Doctor?

DOCTOR: Not at all. She was spectacular in-person - her reputation did her little justice, actually. Which was part of the reason why, at one point, in order to save her life, I trapped myself in her time. I really thought for a while that there was no way I'd be getting back to the TARDIS, or to the ship in which it was parked, where Mickey and Rose waited for me. At least not without waiting three thousand years. For a brief evening, it looked as though Madame de Pompadour and I would have ample time to get to know each other... it was something we'd never been properly able to do because of the mind-probing robots.

MARTHA: Okay, someday, you're going to have to tell me the full story of the mind-probing robots.

DOCTOR: Duly noted. And alas, it seemed we were destined never to get to know one another because Reinette - that was her nickname - was exceedingly clever, and found a way for me to get back.

MARTHA: She worked it out?

DOCTOR: Yep. I mean, not with quantum mechanics, but she knew that the fireplace in her bedchamber was a portal, and she had had it moved from her childhood home... long story. Anyway, at that point, Reinette was thirty-seven, and had not been in a sexual relationship with the King for about a decade, and I knew this. It made me bold. It made me stupid.

MARTHA: You invited her aboard the TARDIS, didn't you? You used the fireplace to get back, and then asked her to come along.

DOCTOR: (Looking down.) Yeah.

MARTHA: (Careful tone, not to scold or judge.) A prominent figure in history, whose life-story is well-known, whose birth and death and goings-on have been well-documented upon the annals of history.

DOCTOR: Whose removal from that timestream could have changed the history of Earth, or at least of Europe, in drastic ways.

MARTHA: Wow. What would the Time Lords have done to you if they could have known?

DOCTOR: Prison. And psychoanalysis.

MARTHA: Oh, Doctor.

DOCTOR: But if you'll notice, the portals opened up over the course of her whole life, while they are confined to a single day on my end, which means... the passage of time on her end was totally unpredictable from my point of view. So I went and flipped some switches, and by the time I came back for her, she had died.

MARTHA: Oh, I'm sorry.

DOCTOR: Don't be. It was for the best. She was destined to die at forty-three, of tuberculosis, on Earth. And the loss made me wax philosophical, and made me realise what an idiot I had been. Not only had I been contemplating taking a major historical figure out of history, but I had... (Chuckles, scratches awkwardly at the back of his head.)

MARTHA: What?

DOCTOR: I had invited a beautiful woman whom I fancied, aboard the TARDIS, while Rose was travelling with me.

MARTHA: Ohhh, I see. Yeah. Wow.

DOCTOR: Is it wrong that I feel worse about that, than about the messing-with-history thing?

MARTHA: No, in fact I think it means there's hope for you.

DOCTOR: Well, that's it. I've never told that to anyone. The only person, besides me, who knew, was Reinette herself, and I don't think she fully understood the implications of it, though she knew I had Rose in my life. I never even told Rose herself - I reckoned she'd sulk for days, and she might have been right to do so.

MARTHA: Well, do you feel better?

DOCTOR: I do. I kind of didn't answer the question, though. It's not exactly an embarrassing moment... although if we assume embarrassing and shameful are roughly the same thing...

MARTHA: No, I get completely why this story falls into that category. Besides, in thinking about you and how you live, I can't really imagine you having a "traditional" embarrassing moment. Your embarrassing moments, where you had a pratfall or mistook the salt for the sugar...

DOCTOR: ...yeah, those end in disaster.

MARTHA: And are not exactly "embarrassing." (Consults papers.) When did you last cry in front of another person? By yourself?

DOCTOR: Erm, today.

MARTHA: Yeah, me too. But before that.

DOCTOR: Well, I suppose that would be upon one of those occasions of which I have today told you the tale.

MARTHA: Alone or with someone else?

DOCTOR: With someone else... and then alone, after the hologram failed.

MARTHA: I see. Me, I cried on the Pentallian. Three times. Well, twice on the Pentallian, once in the jettison pod that was floating toward an angry sun.

DOCTOR: Ah yes, the jettison pod - with Mr. Riley Vashtee. Blimey, that's a cool name, eh? Riley Vashtee. So, that was the last time you cried in front of someone. What about alone?

MARTHA: Well, technically, the last time I cried in front of someone was with you, when I knew you were okay. We hugged and I just sobbed. I guess you didn't know.

DOCTOR: I suppose I'd forgotten.

MARTHA: I cried alone when I was blasting you with ice in that MRI-looking thing.

DOCTOR: You cried? Why?

MARTHA: Because! I pushed a button, and all of a sudden you're screaming in untold agony! But you kept telling me not to stop... it was so hard to keep going, Doctor!

DOCTOR: You know you saved my life by doing that, right?

MARTHA: I suppose in theory, but... you don't know what it was like. Think about having to hurt me, Doctor, to the point where I'm screaming bloody murder, the kind of screaming you know will haunt you in your sleep. All you'd have to do is stop. Just let go of the button, and it would make the pain go away, make the shrieking go away. But I'm telling you it's for the best, though you don't understand why or how, and all you want to do is pull away...

DOCTOR: Okay, I get it.

MARTHA: I didn't know what else to do, I so cried. It felt like the thing to do, considering the day I'd had. Not that it was an intellectual decision, mind you.

DOCTOR: I'm sorry to put you through that.

MARTHA: It's okay. It's what I'm here for, isn't it? Your life needed saving - who else could do it?

DOCTOR: Who else indeed. Who else would trust me enough to do it?

MARTHA: Exactly. (Gesturing with finality.)

DOCTOR: (Smiles, and consults papers.) Tell your partner something you think would be fun about being in a romantic relationship with them. (Laughs.) Oh, this one is much more fun!

MARTHA: (Groans.) No, this one is horrible! What would be fun about being in a relationship with you? Apart from everything? Erm, well... (Gives a private chuckle.)

DOCTOR: What? What is that chuckle?

MARTHA: Well, you are a very passionate man. And I will leave it at that.

DOCTOR: (Crosses arms, and looks at her sceptically, and whimsically.) Well, funnily enough, I was going to say the same thing.

MARTHA: Really?

DOCTOR: Yep. Well, that you're passionate and also quite long in the stamina department...

MARTHA: Wow.

DOCTOR: Did I say that out loud?

MARTHA: You did.

DOCTOR: Well, fiddlesticks. (With a smirk.)

(A moment passes in which the two of them stare at each other with wry smiles and sparks in their eyes.)

MARTHA: (At last, consulting the papers.) What, if anything, is too serious to be joked about?

DOCTOR: (Mood changes on a dime.) Genocide.

MARTHA: Good answer.

DOCTOR: Humans sometimes say that tragedy, plus time, equals humour. Not true. I know about tragedy and I know about time. And it's no joke.

MARTHA: Tragedy and time. You're an expert.

DOCTOR: And unfortunately, I know about genocide, too. It's obviously barbaric and unnecessary, and all things bad. I'm not saying it's preventable, mind you, I'm just saying it's never funny.

MARTHA: That's how I feel about violence against children.

DOCTOR: Also a fantastic answer.

MARTHA: I don't even like it when people who I know, with one-hundred-per-cent conviction, are joking, say things like, "I'll slap you so hard, your grandchildren will hurt!"

DOCTOR: People say that to their kids?

MARTHA: Colourful, isn't it? I understand corporal punishment - that's one thing. People have their own theories on it, and... well, whatever. People can raise their kids the way they want. If it doesn't cross the line into abuse, then it's none of my business.

DOCTOR: Where's the line, though?

MARTHA: Exactly the problem - no-one knows. We just know, that we know it when we see it. (Thinks for a moment.) And to be perfectly honest, I even understand the impulses that lead to actual violence. I'm not excusing it, but I understand it. There are physiological explanations for it. What I don't understand is making light of it, joshing about someone small and helpless being made to suffer for the impulses of someone much larger, who ought to bloody know better. I suppose if you're a past victim, humour is sometimes the only thing that can keep you sane, but... (Shudders.) I guess I've seen too many domestic "accidents" involving children in the ED, and too often watched them get sent home with the very people who hurt them.

DOCTOR: I tell you - it's in you. (Smiles admiringly.) You just can't help being a healer.

MARTHA: (Practically whispers.) Thanks.

DOCTOR: (Consults papers.) If you were to die this evening with no opportunity to communicate with anyone, what would you most regret not having told someone? Why haven't you told them yet?

MARTHA: Well... (Watching him out of the corner of her eye.) Until today, there were a number of things I would have liked to have said to you, but I feel like I have said most of them...

DOCTOR: Most?

MARTHA: Most.

DOCTOR: Why not all?

MARTHA: Certain things need to be said in due course. If that course never leads us to the place where those things are said, then, those things get left unsaid.

DOCTOR: (Squints.) I understand. I think.

MARTHA: I'm just saying, sometimes important things are not unconditional. Criteria must be met.

DOCTOR: What criteria?

MARTHA: Sorry. Wouldn't be sporting.

DOCTOR: We've been so open with each other... I'm trying to imagine what you couldn't, at this stage, share with me. What don't I know?

MARTHA: (Smiles indulgently.) Actually, nothing. There's nothing you don't know. But the most important words are still left to say, Doctor. They're just not quite ready to come out yet.

DOCTOR: Fine. In that case... well, we've already talked about a time when I wanted to say something to someone, and I blew my chance. I think this is the kind of revelation the experiment is looking to bring about.

MARTHA: Yes.

DOCTOR: But even bigger than that, I would regret not having made some attempt to communicate with my people before destroying the planet. I would have liked for them to see the situation from my point of view, to have let them know that I was sorry, and that I wasn't doing it out of hatred or fear. I didn't do it because, well, frankly, it didn't occur to me at the time. And even if it had, I wouldn't have really known how to go about it. The place was a shambles, in the throes of war... who would have heard me? Come to that, what would I have said? I probably would have lost my nerve if I had done that... (Pause. Deep breath.) Though, I suppose the objective of the question is to make you go ahead and say the things you wanted to say. But it doesn't appear that either of us can do that, so...

MARTHA: (Consults papers.) Your house, containing everything you own, catches fire. After saving your loved ones and pets, you have time to safely make a final dash to save any one item. What would it be? Why?

DOCTOR: My stasis cube.

MARTHA: Beg pardon?

DOCTOR: My stasis cube, assuming I could find it. I think it's in the storage room in the Eighth Wing of the TARDIS. I'd probably make a safe dash to the inner reaches, then burn to death trying to actually locate the thing.

MARTHA: What is it?

DOCTOR: It's this glass cubey thing. It can hold entire worlds within it, outside of time, out of space...

MARTHA: ...so, in stasis...

DOCTOR: ...yes, until released. Depending on the state of the console, I might be able to pack the entire interior of the TARDIS inside the cube, halting the fire while I work out a way to extinguish it

MARTHA: Why haven't I ever seen this thing? Seems like it could come in quite handy.

DOCTOR: Well, really, I always thought they made the wielder capable of a bit too much power. If I let myself use it all the time, I'd start getting all lazy and god-like. Can't have that. But to save the universe's last living TARDIS from a fire? I would make an exception.

MARTHA: Okay, I would choose family albums. Along the lines of Shakespeare as a dinner guest and my desire to find love, it's a cliché answer, but there it is. Fortunately, Tish has the albums from when our gran was a child, but I have scrapbooks from our school days, from when Leo was born, memories of those trips to Brighton... sometimes, especially lately, I wonder if those memories will slip away someday. But I suppose they never can, as long as we have the photographs, yeah?

DOCTOR: You know, sometimes clichés are clichés for a reason. They're just extremely sensible, and a lot of people see it that way. I think saving family albums from a fire is eminently normal.

MARTHA: Normal is good, right?

DOCTOR: In this case, yes.

MARTHA: Oh, good.

DOCTOR: So...(Consults papers.) Of all the people in your family, whose death would you find most disturbing? Why? Ugh, that's a horrible question!

MARTHA: But a probative one. As you may have guessed, the answer is my mother. I think the more complicated the relationship, the more of a dent it leaves in your life... or is that too simplistic a way of looking at it?

DOCTOR: No, I don't think it's simplistic at all.

MARTHA: It's just, I don't feel like there are "things to work out" with my brother or sister, or my dad, for that matter. But with my mum, ever since I was about fifteen, I guess I've had this sense that one day, far off in the future, like after I've had a great career, and all the children I'm going to have, and there are no more things that she can judge me harshly for, we would sit down and hash it out. Not in a screaming-and-clawing-at-each-other way, but we would just... talk. Listen. Explain. I would understand her better, and she would understand me. I know it's naïve to think there will ever come a day when all is as perfect as I'm predicting, but... having her gone, knowing that that day actually will never come... it would be beyond disturbing. It might actually destroy a little part of me.

DOCTOR: (Melancholy.) A little part of us always gets destroyed when someone we love dies, I reckon. And like you said, the more complicated that relationship, the bigger the part. The more jagged the hole it leaves.

MARTHA: Yes. Very well-said. Which means you have a planet-sized, jagged hole in your soul.

DOCTOR: It kind of does. For me, it's definitely not a fair question because literally every member of my family has died. I don't even have any third-cousins-once-removed left. And yeah, it's almost offensive that the question refers to the loss as "disturbing."

MARTHA: I reckon that whoever wrote these questions was not counting on someone like you as a test subject.

DOCTOR: No-one ever counts on someone like me. (Smirk.)

MARTHA: I know I didn't. (Affectionate smile.)

DOCTOR: Are you ready to ask the final question?

MARTHA: What? This is the last question?

DOCTOR: By my count, yeah.

MARTHA: (Consults papers.) You're right! Number thirty-six. Wow, I'm not sure I want this little experiment to end.

DOCTOR: I know... it's weird.

MARTHA: Did you expect to feel that way? I mean, you're the one who knows the objective here.

DOCTOR: I did expect this, kind of.

MARTHA: All right - an auspicious occasion, the final question! Here it is: share a personal problem and ask your partner's advice on how he or she might handle it.

DOCTOR: (Lets out a quick exhale. Thinks for a few moments. Crosses his arms over his chest.) Okay. Tell you a personal problem. I shall do that by way of revealing to you the objective of the experiment.

MARTHA: What?

DOCTOR: (Getting up from his chair.) Trust me, it all goes hand-in-hand.

(THE DOCTOR leaves the room for a moment, and when he returns, he has a laptop computer tucked under his arm. He opens it, types in a few choice things, then turns it around to face MARTHA.)

DOCTOR: Read this.

MARTHA: Er... okay. UC Berkeley, February, 2015?

DOCTOR: I know. Time Lord, spoilers, et cetera. Just read.

MARTHA: "Around the time of the Summer of Love in 1967, Arthur Aron, then a UC Berkeley graduate student in psychology, kissed fellow student Elaine Spaulding in front of Dwinelle Hall. What they felt at that moment was so profound that they soon married and teamed up to investigate the mysteries of attraction and intimacy. 'I fell in love very intensely,' said Aron. 'Given that I was studying social psychology, just for fun I looked for the research on love, but there was almost none.' So he took it on. In the nearly 50 years that Arthur and Elaine Aron have studied love, they have developed three dozen questions to create closeness in a lab setting. Those thirty-six questions were recently popularized in a Modern Love column in the 'New York Times,' and have broken down emotional barriers between thousands, resulting in romance and even some marriages. Examples of the questions include: 'Would you like to be famous? In what way?' 'Is there something that you've dreamed of doing for a long time? Why haven't you done it?' 'If you were to die this evening with no opportunity to communicate with anyone, what would you most regret not having told someone? Why haven't you told them yet?'" Oh, my God, Doctor, what have you done?

DOCTOR: Mm-hm. Skip to the part where it says, "Originally formulated."

MARTHA: (Skims article.) Mm, okay. "Originally formulated for a 1997 study called 'The Experimental Generation of Interpersonal Closeness,' the thirty-six questions, or variations thereof, have been used in hundreds of studies. Whether this sense of closeness can last in a real-world setting is not guaranteed. While some connections that began in a lab endure, others run their course, just as in real life." (MARTHA begins typing.)

DOCTOR: What are you doing?

MARTHA: I'm looking for that Modern Love article. (Pause.) Here we go. "New York Times," January, 2015. Blimey, it's weird living with you. "To fall in love with anyone, do this. The idea is that mutual vulnerability fosters closeness. One key pattern associated with the development of a close relationship among peers is sustained, escalating, reciprocal, personal self-disclosure. Allowing oneself to be vulnerable with another person can be exceedingly difficult, so this exercise forces the issue. Set one, number one: Given the choice of anyone in the world, whom would you want as a dinner guest? Number two: would you like to be famous? In what way?" Oh, my God! All thirty-six questions are here!

DOCTOR: Yep.

MARTHA: These are questions designed to make the subjects fall in love?

DOCTOR: Yep.

MARTHA: You didn't think this was worth telling me?

DOCTOR: It's not a question of worth telling. It was a question of too much self-awareness. The placebo effect and all that.

MARTHA: But you said you already knew how I...

DOCTOR: ...I did.

MARTHA: So you just decided...

DOCTOR: ... to see if it would work on me.

MARTHA: And did it?

DOCTOR: (Smiles, stares down.) Well... I reckon I didn't have far to fall. I suppose perhaps I was wondering if your feelings would come to light. I wondered how honest you would be. It sounds manipulative, I know...

MARTHA: It's extremely manipulative.

DOCTOR: Maybe I just needed to hear some of it.

MARTHA: What, like, I find you sexy? I like the way you move?

DOCTOR: (Shrugs.) Yeah. But there were things I needed an excuse to tell you, as well. I needed you to know how exactly damaged I am, and why. I wanted to tell you how much of an idiot I can be.

MARTHA: I see.

DOCTOR: I didn't look at the questions beforehand, I suppose I was just trusting that what needed to come out would come out. And I suppose, I knew that I'd learn more just to confirm what I already know about you. You're wonderful and loving, and... all that stuff I said before. Sorry, my ability to be eloquent is starting to get fatigued.

MARTHA: I see.

DOCTOR: But, I guess the most important revelation was that around halfway through, I realised I wouldn't have even begun this madness if I hadn't wanted it to work.

MARTHA: So, what, you just needed push?

DOCTOR: Maybe. Yeah.

MARTHA: And this is your personal problem?

DOCTOR: Yes. Because now I don't know what to do about it. I guess I hadn't thought that bit through.

MARTHA: Well, now, I don't know what to do about it either!

DOCTOR: Oh, good, you have a personal problem as well. Two birds. Well, since the final question is to share the problem and ask for advice, I'm going to give you advice. That thing you said you wanted to say to me, but were waiting for "criteria" to be met... go ahead and say it.

MARTHA: (With worry all across her face.) Are you sure it's safe?

DOCTOR: Yes, I'm sure.

MARTHA: Okay. Okay. (Gathers up her courage, and her voice shakes.) I love you.

DOCTOR: (Smiles.) See? Completely safe. Doesn't it...

MARTHA: Stop wasting time like last time, Doctor!

DOCTOR: All right, sorry! I love you too.

(They stare at each other with complete fear for several moments.)

MARTHA: Now what?

DOCTOR: I have no idea. It's your turn to give advice.

MARTHA: My advice is, from here on out, we stop trying to intellectualise our relationship, and just... have one.

DOCTOR: Lovely. Fancy a first date, then?

MARTHA: (Laughs.) Sure! What should we do?

DOCTOR: Something that doesn't require talking.

MARTHA: Okay, and with that little revelation, I'll just go and put on a highly adaptable black dress with sandals, while I hyperventilate.

DOCTOR: Great. See you in an hour?

(Finis.)

Author's Note:

I'm actually a little surprised that no one seemed to realize what was going on! These 36 questions are completely real, Arthur Aron is a real social psychologist, and those articles from the Berkeley site and from the NYT are real (though I did edit them a whole lot, in order to suit my purposes for telling this story). The Aron experiment has been receiving a lot of press lately, most entertainingly on "The Big Bang Theory," during which Sheldon and Penny tried the experiment! They did not fall in love, however.

(Disclaimer: I did change one of the questions, but I won't tell you which.)

The first time I read about it, was in the 'Times' and the person who wrote the article was then married to the man with whom she had tried the experiment. Though, she did note, they already knew each other relatively well, had flirted a lot and just needed an "excuse" to fall properly in love. I guess I don't really need to tell you how the idea formed from there. ;-)

Anyway, thank you for staying with it, and I sincerely hope you enjoyed yourself! Try The Experiment with someone you fancy! Who knows what will happen!

One more thing: Please leave a review! :-D