Until We Burn | Dr Who

Chapter Fifty-Three: The Lazarus Experiment

The Tardis shudders and careens, the pistons whining in complaint. Then, with the flick of a lever, it stills. "There we go. Perfect landing. Which isn't easy in such a tight spot."

Martha chuckles, "You should be used to tight spots by now. Where are we?"

"The end of the line." She runs down the ramp to the door before hesitating. Seeing her excited grin, he adds, "No place like it."

We follow her out into the small flat. The smile is gone now. She looks around at the laundry, the couch, the sun shining through the curtains, and sees no comfort in it. "Home? You took me home."

I can't help but feel bad. It must be difficult to see so much and return to the same few rooms, as boxed in as before. I would see this as cruel but then I think back to the past few adventures, to the number of times she almost died. It isn't right to pluck someone off a planet and endanger them like that.

But the Doctor does not seem quite as deep in thought. He nods, peering down at a childhood picture of her on the shelf. "Back to the morning after we left."

I lean over, whispering, "You did doublecheck that, right? I hear what happened last time."

"Honestly, I'm not that hopeless... anymore. Anyway, you've only been gone about twelve hours. No time at all, really!"

"But all the stuff we've done... Shakespeare, New New York, Old New York."

He shrugs. "Yep. All in one night — relatively speaking. Everything should be just as it was. Books, CDs... laundry." Following his gaze, she hurriedly snatches the clothes off the line and tosses them into a basket in the corner. I give him a disapproving nudge in the ribs. "So, back where you were. As promised."

Unimpressed, she looks to me for confirmation. I smile awkwardly. "This is it?" she asks.

"Yeah, we should probably, um..."

The landline rings and her voicemail answers. "Hi, I'm out. Leave a message."

She grimaces. "Sorry."

A beep. "Martha? Are you there?" a woman sighs. "Pick it up, will you?"

Awkwardly shifting from foot to foot, she gestures to it in dismissal. "It's Mum. It'll wait."

"All right, then. Pretend that you're out, if you like." The three of us laugh for a moment but fall into silence again as she continues. "I was only calling to say that your sister's on TV — on the news, of all things! Just thought you might be interested."

This catches her interest. Snatching up the remote, she switches it on. "How could Tish end up on the news?"

An elderly man on the screen speaks for a sea of reporters. Behind him stands a girl I remember seeing on the night we picked up Martha. Judging from her smart attire and the clipboard clasped under one arm, she must be some kind of assistant or PR officer. "The details are top secret," the man announces in his frail voice, "but I can tell you that, tonight, I will demonstrate a device which will redefine our world."

"She's got a new job. PR for some research lab."

"With the push of a single button, I will change what it means to be human."

Uninterested, she switches it off just as the questions start to pour in. "Sorry. You were saying, you 'should'?"

It takes him a moment to tear his eyes from the television. "Yes, yes. We should. One trip is what we said."

"Yeah."

I raise an eyebrow, remarking, "Three-in-one's more like it."

"I suppose things just, kind of, escalated."