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Idly checking the controls as he wandered round his beloved console, the Doctor clutched his night time cuppa close to his chest (not that night had much meaning when you were spinning through the Vortex) tapping a display here, tweaking a lever there, stroking his fingers over the eccentricity of parts – many worn smooth as polished pebbles; a few – a very few – covered in a thin layer of grime from lack of use; one waving several of its legs in the air-
Hot tea slopped down his front as he rapidly removed himself from the vicinity.
Martha arrived at a run. "I heard screaming. Are you alright? Have you scalded yourself again? You really shouldn't drink your tea that hot you know!"
"I did not scream..." he blustered, gesticulating wildly toward the control column and, like the sweetheart she was, off she went to investigate - shooting him an 'oh yeah' look back over her shoulder. "We-ll, maybe I jumped - just a little."
"Give me a clue; what am I looking for? You know I don't understand any of this stuff; did something give you a shock or- OH!" The Doctor wasn't used to being laughed at. "Is that it? It's tiny." She scooped it up.
"No it isn't!" It was embarrassing when some slip of a girl had to come waltzing in to rescue him – particularly in his own TARDIS.
"Well not tiny exactly but not huge or anything."
"Look, it took me by surprise, all right? Nothing's supposed to be able to get on board without my say so." He was wasting a perfectly good glare on it, he knew, but he gave it one anyway. "Especially not a common or garden Earth variety spider!"
"Okay then."
"If you only knew the trouble they can cause."
She opened her hand. "A spider??"
"Yes or one its very near... Fine! Distant cousins. No- don't bring it over here!" Three feet away, the spider sat on Martha's palm, its legs dawn up close to its body, looking very sorry for itself. It wasn't nearly as big as he'd first thought but still nowhere as small as Martha was making out. He bet she'd been the first in line when it came to dissecting frogs at medical school. "Hello, you're kind of handsome aren't you?" he found himself crooning in its direction, "For a spider I mean - nice stripes - and that's a lovely hint of green if I may say so."
"So now you've confronted you fears what do I do with it - flush it?" The spider's legs shot out, like it was preparing to run.
"Noo, you can't do that!"
"Well I can hardly open the door and chuck it outside can I?"
"Er no. That is, you could open the door, but flinging it outside would still be murder. There's only one thing for it, we'll have to take it back where it came from."
"To Earth you mean?"
"Where else?"
"I dunno. What's wrong with the nearest planet?"
"Bad idea. Very bad idea - you've really no idea how bad. Besides, there's galaxy wide rules regarding the importation of alien flora and fauna." He sidestepped past her.
"But it's not alien it's- Only not alien on Earth," she finished, rapidly, realisation dawning on her face.
"Exactly. Well done you. You're pretty intelligent - no make that pretty and intelligent." He grinned, motioning her to come and stand beside him, and when she reached him he cupped her hands in his. "Right, any particular time you fancy?"
"Sometime after proper toilets had been invented for preference." Martha wrinkled her nose. "History stinks."
"Sorry Martha, not you."
"You're asking the spider?"
"Only fair. Poor thing wanders in here – finds itself whisked off into time and space – no other spiders for company... For all we know he could be missing his brothers and sisters – they have hundreds of them." He threw a lever and the TARDIS whined in protest.
"And you really think it can understand you?"
"I know it can; the TARDIS is perfectly capable of translating for everyone, thing - sorry er- creature?"
"And you're expecting it to answer?
"Hmm? Could you... Only I need to concentrate, animal minds are-"
"You're inside its mind?"
"Trying to be."
"You can do that? Get inside its head?"
"I could if you'd-"
"And people's - can you get inside us as well?"
"Oh yes, people are a lot easier than-" He ripped his mind away from trying to get past *kill* and *devour* - very basic creatures, spiders – with such infinitesimal minds – it was hard to find anything when everything was squashed so tight inside.
"Well I can." He looked her straight in the eye. "But I don't. Don't make a habit of it, not anymore. And I wouldn't– Not to you- Not without your permission first." She was edging away from him – not physically: he still had hold of her hand – but there was something... He didn't need to be inside her thoughts to know what it was, not when she was looking at him like that. She felt that he'd betrayed her trust. "You believe me?"
"Of course."
She was lying.
"I haven't," he said. She was trembling too, much like the spider she still had cradled in her hand. "I promise you - I haven't." He wanted to wrap his arms round her - hold her close - reassure her - but that might mean squashing the spider.
"How would I know?"
He smiled - he couldn't help himself - and stroked down her cheek with a fingertip. "Oh you'd know."
"Would I?" she asked softly.
"Promise," he answered in the same tone. The spider suddenly appeared on her shoulder. "So..." The Doctor slammed both hands back onto the controls. "...back to our little problem!"
"I don't think spiders have much concept of time travel Doctor or... or 'family' for that matter," Martha said quietly, laying a hand on his arm. "So why don't we just take him back to Earth, but maybe a couple of hundred years earlier than when we just left, before pesticides were invented?"
The spider leapt from her shoulder, landed on the console and began running in circles. They watched for a moment then grinned idiotically at each other because it was so obviously a 'yes'.
He nudged her. "There'll be no flushing toilets. It'll be stinky."
She bumped up against him. "It'll be worth it."
"Right!" The Doctor slapped on his happy face. "Earth it is then - the late sixteen hundreds ought to do it - and I'll let the TARDIS decide exactly where."