After their hug, during which each had been trying to convey so much, the Doctor and his ever-faithful companion entered his blue box together. The Doctor immediately entered the coordinates for the Vortex, deciding just to let the TARDIS fly herself for a little while. Turning to face Martha, he said, "We need to talk."
She nodded solemnly. In her experience, those words had never meant anything good, and she had a feeling that this would prove to be no different. Therefore, she was surprised when the Doctor broke into a wide grin – one of the few genuine smiles she had seen on him – and moved to embrace her again.
"Martha Jones," he murmured in her ear. "I am forever in your debt – you saved us all."
"How did I save us, sir – I mean, Doctor?" she asked, stumbling over her words slightly, as she was still adjusting to having her Doctor back, rather than the John Smith character he had created.
The Doctor forged ahead. Even if Martha's slip of the tongue hurt, he knew that he deserved it. "Because you stayed with me, even when I was an absolute beast. You kept me safe, and by doing that, you kept the universe safe as well."
"Just doing my duty, Doctor," she replied evenly, praying that he wouldn't remember her confession from before he had changed back.
"Your duty to who, Martha?" he asked her gently.
"To my country, and the world," she said slowly, wondering where this particular line of questioning might lead.
"Is that all?" he continued.
"And … to you," she whispered at last, all but admitting that she loved him as she buried her head in his chest and felt his arms tighten around her.
"That's what I thought."
Martha wondered at his tone. If anything, he sounded proud, instead of disgusted, as she had been so sure he would be if he ever discovered her feelings for him. How could the Doctor ever love someone like her? Their latest adventure had driven her fears home more so than ever before, since due to the color of her skin, she had been discriminated against.
As the Doctor held Martha in his arms, he remembered. As much as he would have liked to forget their most recent adventure – and his subsequent treatment of Martha – he was cursed to remember. Yet, he blessed this fact as well, for he didn't want to forget how cruel he had been to her. He deserved to feel guilty for the rest of his days, however long that ended up being.
Guiding her out of his sheltering embrace, he suppressed a groan at being separated. However, he had something important to say, and he wanted to do this right. "Martha," he began, and he'd never been more nervous – or more human. "While I'm indebted to you, I also owe you an apology. I treated you abysmally while masquerading as John Smith. I ignored you, talked down to you, and disregarded your feelings in all matters – not just when it came to Joan." He felt her flinch at the name of the school nurse, and he couldn't say that he blamed her. "Martha, I'm sorry," he whispered brokenly.
He felt her pull away. Watching closely, he saw her raise her hand, presumably to strike him. Again, he wouldn't blame her for lashing out at the nearest available target – him – so he merely shut his eyes and awaited the blow. What he felt instead was a soft, silky-smooth hand caressing his cheek.
"Doctor, look at me," she demanded, and he was powerless to resist. Even if her words hadn't been an order, he would have obeyed. "While I won't deny that I was hurt, I understood why you acted the way you did. You weren't the Doctor – at least, not the one that I knew. You were John Smith, a product of the times. And that completely excuses any behavior you may have engaged in that may or may not have affected me."
At the realization that she forgave him, that she wasn't about to ask that she be taken home, that she seemed to want to stay with him, he abruptly pulled her back into his arms. "You're wonderful, did you know that?"
"I've heard it mentioned once or twice," she said with a laugh, all while wrapping her arms securely around his torso. Her eyes sparkled at the realization that her Doctor was back, and she actually seemed to glow with happiness.
That all changed, though, when the Doctor whispered in her ear, "Martha, why didn't you tell me?" causing her to tense up, afraid that he'd pieced together the clues she'd left and realized that she loved him.
However, she would still try to save face and bluff her way out. "Tell you what, Doctor?" she asked.
"Why didn't you say before the change that you cared for me?"
At hearing that, she desperately wriggled out of his arms and walked around the console, hoping to distance herself from him and provide them both with a little perspective.
"Why would I? What chance would someone like me ever have with someone like you?" she cried out.
"And what's that supposed to mean?" asked the Doctor, clearly getting annoyed.
"Look at me," she said, gesturing to her entire body.
"And what am I supposed to be seeing?" he asked, striding around the console to follow her, determined not to let her get away from him again.
"My skin," she whispered brokenly, trying to hold back the tears. Therefore, she was understandably startled to hear the Doctor break into laughter at her declaration.
"I'm surprised at you, Martha – letting a little thing like that stand in the way of your happiness. That doesn't sound like the Martha Jones I know!"
"Well, what do you expect?" she asked. "After …" her voice trailed off as she shrugged helplessly. It was obvious that thoughts of their recent adventure still plagued her, and the Doctor wanted to kick himself – or do something equally as painful – for having put her through that.
She was looking at the ground, at the controls, anywhere but at him. Coming to stand directly in front of her, he said softly, "Look at me, Martha."
Tentatively raising her eyes to meet his, she was surprised by the warmth she found reflected there, as well as the utter tenderness with which he gazed upon her.
"I care for you too, Martha," he admitted, not realizing until that very moment what a weight it had been on his already-burdened shoulders. "I'm just afraid of screwing up and not being what you need."
"How could I ever think that, Doctor," she exclaimed. "When it's always been you?"
Another grin began to spread across his face at her pronouncement. "Come here, you," he growled affectionately, placing his hands on her waist and drawing her near. She went willingly, shuffling closer to wrap her own arms around him once more. Her head came to rest over one of his hearts, and the steady thump-thump began working its magic, relaxing her more than she'd been for the past three months. However, it wasn't until the Doctor began mumbling nonsense words in her ear that Martha realized that she was crying. Apparently, the strain had taken its toll on her, and she was now releasing months of pent-up emotions all over the Doctor's jacket.
"Forget the jacket, Martha Jones," he said reassuringly, having correctly guessed where her thoughts were.
She gave a wet laugh at how well he knew her. Resting her head on his chest, she refused to look at him – ashamed of her moment of weakness – until he placed a single finger under her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes.
"You are the strongest person I know, Martha Jones," he whispered fiercely, somehow having known exactly what she needed to hear.
She laughed again, returning the bone-crushing hug she'd seemingly been locked in forever. After another few minutes spent like this, they mutually agreed to pull away, though neither went far.
"Feel better?" the Doctor inquired. At her affirming nod, he continued, "Then there's something I'd like to try." At Martha's quizzical look, he lowered his head to the point where their lips were touching. Martha responded eagerly, despite not having had much previous experience. That kiss – their first of many – was unlike anything either had ever known. The tenderness, the hunger, the unbridled passion … they seemed to be living vicariously through the other, not that either one minded.
Only pulling away when oxygen again became a priority, yet keeping their foreheads pressed tightly together, they smiled at each other, dazed at the intensity of their kiss and breathing heavily as they struggled to regain their composure.
"Wow," the Doctor whispered.
"Yeah," said Martha, unable to form a coherent thought besides, OhMyGod - he kissed me. The Doctor actually - finally - kissed me!
After that, no more words were needed. None ever had been, for Doctor and companion had always understood each other better than anyone else.
In what seemed to be no time at all, though, their relationship would be tested by the Master's reemergence and subsequent plan for taking over the world.
As Martha knelt by the aged-Doctor's side, he whispered three little words to her. It would be these words that would give her the strength to rise and leave him behind. It would be these words that would help her to push on when all hope seemed lost. And it would be these words that would draw her back to his side, all for the opportunity of being able to say, "I love you too, Doctor."