Martha Jones and the Weeping Angels

Liz was returned to her bench with a faint sigh of relief, even if she was **** to cross her arms over her tits again. Somewhere else, a dark-skinned woman exhaled.

“Glad that wasn’t- ah!” she shrieked, suddenly feeling herself be lifted up and dragged towards the same embarrassing exposure she’d seen the other women go through.

It didn’t help that, after so long, she’d been half-rehearsing her story in her head. Even if apparently the truth field made it all come out fully formed, she knew what she was going to have to say.

“Martha Jones,” the Judge said.

Martha’s cheeks burned as she hung in the centre of the courtroom.

“How much more of this do you need?” Martha said, voice high.

She’d tried valiantly to keep her hands over her cunt, upper arms covering her chest with a long V. She’d failed, now bared entirely.

“When all stories have been heard in sufficient detail, and follow-up questions have been answered,” it said. “Martha Jones, tell us of a time you were naked.”

“It started with a small thing. These creatures called the Weeping Angels separated me and the Doctor from the TARDIS, until we were able to get someone to send it back to us. The Angels, though, I think they kept an eye out for us.

I didn’t know what was happening at first. It was… it was over a decade in my future, I think, things had gone to hell, and we were trying to help, browsing around an old warehouse.

That was the first time I saw an Angel on that journey. I turned around and there was a statue standing in the shadows, between the aisles. It was snarling. I saw its teeth.

It was shock that made me blink, and suddenly it was a hair’s breadth away from me, grabbing hold of my shirt. I think it wanted to keep me trapped, but I’d been sent back by them before, and I knew my priority. I stared at it until my eyes watered and pulled back.

I don’t know what I expected. I thought maybe it would just tear a handful of my top off, like you see in cartoons; instead the whole thing came apart at the seams, the whole front half ending up in the Angel’s hand and the rest falling off me.

Still, it was better to be in a bra and jacket than to be marooned in the past again. That was what I figured.

The problem was that I blinked. The sudden shock of losing my top did it, so not only had I lost my top, it had sent me back… somewhen.

The warehouse had more colour to it. Rather than being all drab and dusty, there was a bit of life, no layers of dust, and there were things on the shelves, so I was definitely in the past. Nervously I did my jacket up, carefully looking around.

With mixed feelings, I noticed the security camera. I really hoped it hadn’t seen my bra, though soon I’d have wished that was all that had happened, but at least the presence of it meant I couldn’t have been sent back more than a few years.

I’d meant to shout for the Doctor. It was too late now though. I carefully started walking, moving around the aisle, and coming upon a man who looked like he worked there.

I don’t remember exactly what he said. I remember the look of shock on his face though, and I span around just in time. He must have blinked, because another Angel was standing right behind me.

It had grabbed me again. Well, lunged at me. This one was almost on all fours, not flying but almost trying to, reaching out further. Stony fingers dug into my waistband. I tried to squirm back, reddening as I saw what was the only way to get out of this situation.

“Don’t blink,” I said to the worker. “Just trust me, I can explain after, but don’t take your eyes off it.”

I had to shimmy out of my trousers to try and get away. My knickers almost went with it, I flashed half my ass before tugging them back up, but there was no extricating my trousers from the Angel’s stone grasp.

My cheeks burned as I pulled my legs free.

Then he wasn’t looking at the Angel any more, and I barely had time to object when I felt stone touch my leg.

That time I didn’t end up in the warehouse. Angels can displace in space as well as time, they have to just to account for stuff like the rotation of the world, so suddenly I was outside on the street. It had been Summer when it started, but now a much cooler breeze was whipping around my bare legs.

I yelped, and started looking around. My first priority was looking for cover, but I had to admit that wasn’t enough. I had to find some way of getting a message to the Doctor. As much as I hated to admit it, it didn’t matter how dressed I was if I was stuck.

I waited longer than I wanted to in the street, shivering in just a jacket and underwear, oh, and shoes. There was one of those people handing out free Big Issues though; I hurried to them, trying very hard to ignore the looks I was getting.

1. It wasn’t so bad, all things considered. Way better than the late sixties.

I only ran for cover then, sheltering in an out-of-the-way alley to think, gathering my thoughts. I needed some kind of message that would last. I didn’t know what, but I had to think…

I’d been running and hiding for half an hour when I met my next Angel. When it lunged at me, and took hold of my jacket, I had time to consider what was happening. I could try tor un and give up my jacket, or stay and definitely be sent back in time with it.

Meeting three Angels couldn’t be coincidence.

The Doctor confirmed it for me later; this was some kind of chain, one Angel would send someone back, feed on all that potential energy, then the next Angel along would find that someone, send them back… They must somehow have ended up with some kind of arrangement, so that when one fed, they all did.

It was… efficient.

It also meant I was spiralling back through time with an ever-shrinking wardrobe. I didn’t want to end up in the sixties again, even if it meant being in my underwear, so I reluctantly unzipped my jacket and pulled away.

I was wearing mismatched white and peach underwear. I hugged my arms over my chest, still cold, and I backed away from the statue that now held my jacket.

Then someone hollered at me, a yell of both alarm and appreciation, and instinct made me take my eyes off the Angel for one stupid second.

I really didn’t want to end up marooned in the sixties again. For that moment though, as I ended up in an admittedly nice-looking countryside, I really wished I’d been sent a few years back before the invention of portable cameras. I’d landed on a winding path with huge fields either side of me, and a dozen or so people were snapping photos.

I shrieked and when I turned and ran, I should have expected that I’d end up in the clutches of another Angel.

I wouldn’t have taken my bra off to get away, I wasn’t that ****, but I didn’t have a choice. I pulled back without thinking about it, and the whole thing snapped.

There’s no salvaging clothes that get left years in the future.

I lost my knickers in the late 90s. It was warmer at least, but that was because I was at the seaside. Cameras weren’t so common, but they still existed, and I was sprinting down the promenade in the **** hope of spare clothes or privacy, cupping my tits in my hands.

Eventually the Angel found me. It didn’t strip me though; it grabbed me, tight, while I looked at it and tried not to blink, vainly trying to figure out how to get my wrists out of its grasp.

It was a couple of very human pranksters that had the bright idea to pull my panties down my legs, so that when I inevitably blinked, I was sent back stark naked.

The one bright side was that I didn’t get marooned in the sixties again, oh no. There were more Angels than that. They didn’t always find me immediately, but the local one hunted me down and continued the chain eventually, giving me a long, naked tour of human history.

I don’t know how many people saw me. I try not to think about it. I know, at least, no one saw me where I ended up, but that was more because I think I ended up before the dawn of humanity.

The Doctor found me there, something about tracing my temporal potential. I didn’t exactly ask for the lecture. I just ran back into the TARDIS and tried to forget it had ever happened.”

Martha took a deep breath, shaking slightly. Her outstretched arms trembled a little from self-consciousness, and she stared up at the ceiling rather than take in all the eyes on her.

“How long did the journey take?” the Judge said.

“I don’t know!” Martha said. “Hard to keep track when you end up in different times. Too long. Some jumps were a couple of years, some were centuries, sometimes I was there for a minute, sometimes for a day…”

“But many eras saw you?” the Judge said.

Martha whimpered. “My time, then before cameras, which was… ok. There’s an early UNIT case file on me, then I met Shakespeare again – so glad some of his sonnets were lost, seriously – then there were the painters, and…”

She swallowed, feeling the machine look up at her.