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When Martha opens the door of the TARDIS the corridor is empty, save for the half-dozen soldiers pointing guns at them, and the man staring at them with a weary look.
"Zach," the Doctor says. "Hello."
"Doctor." The man smiles, and that's tired, as well. "I was afraid it would be you."
Martha hangs back in the doorframe, her eyes flicking between the conversation and the guns. She's tempted to take the last step backward, tempted to close the door. But they're still talking, and she wants to hear.
"What, not happy to see me?" The Doctor strides forward, in front of Martha. He seems heedless of the guns, save for an odd twitch of his elbow. "After I towed you away from certain death? Come here!"
And like that, he's hugging Zach, and Martha knows the Doctor's gone round the bend again.
Over the Doctor's shoulder, Zach rolls his eyes, makes a stand down gesture with his hand. Martha lets out a breath as the soldiers lower their guns.
The Doctor releases Zach, nods like a question has been answered. "Much better. You Torchwood types aren't very friendly, are you?" There's an edge to his voice.
Zach shrugs, then looks past the Doctor, finally sees her standing there. "Oh."
Martha lifts her chin, folds her arms.
The Doctor sighs.
***
Half an hour, a courteous frisking and a careless Ida will show you around later, Martha finds herself in a library that's not.
There are no books on the shelves nor desk space for writing. Instead, there are curious bins marked with serial numbers and monitors that look suspiciously like microfiche readers. Martha selects a bin at random, case G2157A80X. She flips open the top and finds wired rectangles inside, like double-size microchips. Behind her, someone clears her throat. Martha shoves the case back in its place, swivels on her heel and smiles.
The woman tips her head, stares at the case, slightly askew. "I've been asking them to upgrade the interface for ages, but we'll be operating on a loss for the next few months." She raises her eyebrows, expectant.
When the silence grows long, Martha fidgets, her thumb bumping against the tip of her ring finger.
"You don't know anything about it," the woman says, disbelief in her voice. "But you're with him."
"The Doctor." Martha affirms with a nod, and suppresses a groan. "He did mention he's met you lot before."
"Ah." The woman surveys her a moment more, then extends a hand. "Ida Scott. Science division."
"Martha Jones." Martha clasps Ida's hand. "Royal Hope Hospital."
"Medical, then?" Ida releases her, points to a door in the far corner. "You might enjoy that laboratory. Xenophysiology."
"Sounds good." Martha smiles. "I was afraid it would be monkeys."
"We have monkeys, too," Ida responds.
***
"But there isn't any way to isolate the serum, then," Martha observes.
Ida slides another datachip into the console. "It's an interesting process, actually, based on studies of evolving Cheem lifeforms."
"Cheem?" Martha leans closer to the screen, squints at the squirm of chloroplasts. "What's that?"
"Oh, dear." The screen goes blank.
Martha startles back. "What?"
Ida touches Martha's elbow and jerks her head, left-wise. "Another lab you might want to see."
"What now, xenobotany? Xenobiology?"
Ida pauses, then smirks. "A little bit of both."
***
Three and a half hours later, the Doctor grabs Martha by the shoulder. "That's enough organic chemistry for you."
"Watch it!" Martha points a half-empty pipette at the Doctor. "I'm working."
"Now, really." He halts, trainers squidging against the polished floor. "It's not very polite to wave mysterious liquids at a person's head, is it?"
"It's only water." She squirts him square in the face. "And what do you know about being polite?"
He wrinkles his nose. "I was asking." He turns to Ida. "Bad influence, you are."
Ida giggles, and as Martha watches, the Doctor's smile blooms to a full-on grin.
"Come on, Martha," he says, but he's still looking at Ida. "We've got people to visit, revolutions to start."
"The usual." Martha tugs her arm away. "Of course."
"Of course." The Doctor leans forward and, to Martha's surprise, gives Ida a peck on the cheek.
Ida pats his back. "I don't suppose you'll explain how you're leaving." He shows his teeth at her, and she snorts.
He ambles off to the TARDIS, fiddles with the handle while Martha gives Ida a semi-awkward hug.
Ida squeezes quick, then backs away. "You should visit again, you know. You'd be a big help."
"I'd like that," Martha replies. "I think I will."
Ida tilts her head at the Doctor, who's wedged the TARDIS door open partway. "You don't need to check with him?"
Martha laughs, and it feels nice to laugh like this, loud enough to echo.
The Doctor turns to squint at her.
"I don't think he'll mind," Martha says, finally catching her breath. "We'll work something out."
Ida reaches out, clasps Martha's hands in her own. It feels old-fashioned to Martha, like something out of novel with brittle pages.
She draws Ida into another hug, a real one. "Sometime soon," she qualifies.
And the Doctor is clearing his throat to sing something from the Elton John oeuvre.