Alternate ending to "42"
Friendship/ light romance
The scruffy-faced young man gazed into my eyes, "Will I ever see you again?"
I had to be honest, "Well, no, unfortunately." I shifted uncomfortably, knowing that he felt a strong attraction to me after our moments in the escape pod. Of course I found him attractive, and I felt a friendly, we-survived-death connection to him, but I could feel the doctors eyes staring into the back of my skull as I said goodbye to the crewmember. The man leaned in for a hug, which I responded to tensely. We both said "goodbye," at the same moment, and that was that. I let go of him and quickly turned on my heels to face the TARDIS, and The Doctor holding the door open for me, grinning.
"Come on, then," he said quickly, and motioned with a flick of his head for me to enter. I couldn't help but smile back, and reached up to him. He grabbed my hand and led me in, and it was the best thing I had felt all day.
I watched as he closed the doors, and I heard the crew members leave to begin repairs.
"Well," The Doctor started, leaning against the doors of the TARDIS, hands in his pockets, "That was fun!"
I leaned on the railing, about three feet away from and facing him, my arms crossed yet relaxed.
I responded with a smirk and stared at him, what a funny man, "If by fun, you mean being possessed and almost eaten by a gigantic ball of angry molten gas, then yes, that was fun." I heard him let out a single chuckle. The man's mind had just been overcome by a powerful, murderous entity, and he was now grinning and calling it fun. Complex is the least adequate word to describe this Time Lord. My gaze drifted to his left shoulder as my mind recounted the day's events. It landed on the moment the escape pod detached. I could feel my face become gloomy as I remembered how helpless I felt in the pod, drifting toward death, yet in the back of my mind I felt safe, as I saw The Doctor scream "I'll save you!" And he did, as he always does. I let out a sigh of relief as I looked up, and realized The Doctor had been watching me. His face was strange, solemn, and he was reserved yet at the same time seemed ready to burst with emotions (which ones, I could not tell). He seemed to be staring right into my mind and know what I was thinking. I noticed his eyes became subtly reddened and glistening as he stared at me. Then he pulled his hands out of his pockets and moved toward me, bending down and wrapping his arms around me tightly. I welcomed the feeling as he rested his chin on my shoulder and pressed his cheek into mine, folding my arms over his strong shoulders and neck.
"Martha," he whispered, a faint trembling in his voice, "I can't lose you."
Not quite sure what to make of his sudden change in character, I comforted him by saying, "It's okay, it all worked out, you saved the day as usual," and he responded to my words by pulling me closer and tighter, pressing his cheek harder into mine. I was a bit concerned, because he had never held me this tight for this long, but I decided to let it play out. I felt his body faintly shudder, and realized he was slowly weeping, his hot tears falling into my hair and down my back. I squeezed him tighter. The Doctor, usually so restrained, so bold, so courageous, so care-free, was here in my arms, suddenly weeping like a child. I felt so useless, not understanding the gravity of what he was feeling. I turned my head and kissed a spot on his sticky cheek, and he continued to weep, slowly quieting down, collecting himself, until he stopped, sniffled, and squeezed me again.
"I was so scared… I couldn't control… you…" he whispered and trailed off, working hard to control his breathing. I then realized he was not only thinking about his mind being possessed by the killer sun, but how he was afraid of killing me, and afraid of losing me in that escape pod. He risked his life and faced that angry entity in order to save me.
"Doctor," I whispered, "we're all right now. We're safe."
He cleared his throat, and his voice was more collected now, "I know," he breathed into my neck, "but…"
And I felt him shift and release his embrace. I didn't want to let go, but I relaxed to oblige him, and he put himself arms length way from me, rubbing his face with both hands, and then moving them to my shoulders. I found my hands gripping the lapel of his brown coat. I stared into his eyes. They were so deep. I could almost feel the depth of knowledge, compassion, dignity, and intellect they held. But on the surface of his eyes was something I hadn't seen before, well, not up close, and not so clearly. I think I caught a flash of this when he stared out the window as my escape pod careened toward incineration, but I was too distraught to notice it then. Was it genuine fear that The Doctor was allowing me to see? He had verbally admitted that he was scared, on the ship in the stasis chamber, and just now during his embrace. Oh, how I felt for him. I knew then that I loved him more than ever. I stared into his dark brown eyes suspended at arms length. I was infatuated with the intelligent Doctor on the moon, the witty Doctor putting words in Shakespeare's mouth, the sacrificial Doctor at the Empire State's Spire, the determined Doctor who saved the showgirl's lover, the musical Doctor as he ended the tirades of the mutant Lazarus… but this Doctor, this broken, afraid, childlike Doctor, this different Doctor… my Doctor: I loved.
He sniffled again as I stared at his face, his eyes flashing another emotion I didn't recognize. He seemed to be studying me, my face, my features, every pore of my skin and crease of my lips. It unnerved me and I shifted on my feet, moving my gaze to his throat to avoid eye contact. But then I felt his right hand slide from my shoulder, follow my neck, my jaw, and he grasped my chin gently between his thumb and forefinger, and pushed up so that I was again looking into his eyes, flashing that unrecognizable emotion again. I suddenly realized he had stepped closer to me. His thumb traced my lips tenderly, and I shivered. He leaned down. I blushed. His face was so close to mine. I felt the hair on my arms and neck stand up in anticipation. His breath was hot against my lips as he stared at them. He hovered, for what seemed like ages, moving his lips closer and closer to mine, but so painfully slowly. I had to remind myself to breath. This side of the Time Lord completely caught me off-guard. The scene of our first "genetic transfer" that saved a thousand lives on the moon flashed into my mind, and was gone when I heard him speak, snapping me back into the moment.
"I can't lose you." I looked up and he was gazing into my eyes again, with such earnestness that it unbalanced me. I then knew that the unrecognizable emotion in those eyes was something deeper in him that he could not verbally admit. Deeper than fear, deeper than passion. He flashed his love to me.
He moved his other hand down my arm and across my hip, landing his hand firmly at the small of my back. His touch was warm through the fabric of my shirt, and my skin felt as if it was on fire. The hand on my chin moved to the back of my neck, where his fingers became entangled in my hair, still damp from his tears.
"Martha," he whispered, and I closed my eyes. He moved his lips closer still to mine, the sound of my name hitting my parted lips. And finally he took them in his. Tenderly, passionately, he locked his lips with mine, not biting, not forcing, but simply relishing in the warmth, flavor, and movement of our mouths together. This was a sober kiss, a resolute kiss, a kindhearted, melting kiss. This was the kiss from a man who needed comfort, but didn't know how to ask for it, who needed to express something deeper than infatuation, but could not say the word. The Doctor needed love.
Our kiss continued, growing more passionate. I felt him pull me closer, and I moved my right hand up his chest and into his soft, disheveled hair, gripping his head and tangling my fingers in his hair. That gesture seemed to affect him, as his hold on me grew tighter. I wanted to get closer, so I moved my other hand from his lapel and moved it slowly down his slender chest, concealed by his button-up shirt and tie, around his hip, underneath both his coats, and up his back, planting my fingers into his strong shoulder blade. He responded by moving closer, and the space between our hips and chests vanished, sending tingles from the points of contact all the way to my fingertips. I couldn't help letting out a soft "mmm…" into his mouth, and his lips curled into a slight smile.
Oh, this beautifully broken man, who had the universe at his fingers; the Time Lord who had seen the birth of a thousand planets and the death of a thousand stars; The Doctor who had saved a billion lives and had destroyed just as many; the last of his race, forever an alien, forever a sojourner; this magnificent and shattered man… how I loved him. This Doctor could be anywhere in the universe, any time, with anyone… and he was here, with me, embracing me, kissing me. The incredible, ancient man who can speak to stars, yet cannot speak of his own need to love and be loved, was here, speaking to me through his touch.
"I love you, Doctor," I whispered into his lips. He responded by pulling at my bottom lip with his, and then stopped. Without a word, his lips were gone, but I dared not open my eyes, not wanting this moment to end. I felt his face brush past mine, and he rested his chin on my right shoulder, and pulled me in tighter. There we were again, in that delicious embrace, his hand still holding my head, my hand still tangled in his hair. I felt his body shudder again as we hugged, and understood him to be releasing more emotions that he could not speak of. His love seemed to pour out of him, enveloping me, and I felt him hold back more tears. With our faces so close, he pressed his temple into mine, and I felt a wave of his mind crashing into my own.
I sensed urgency in our connection, and thought I could hear him trying to tell me something. I sent questions back to him, but he wouldn't let me in. He wanted to speak, but didn't have the words. Instead, I simply felt. It seemed he hurled a hurricane at me, billowing clouds of gray and blue and gold and purple, wind and lightening and rain, forceful and calm all at once, and I felt everything, his longing, heartache, passion, hurt, tenderness, fear, tranquility, and desire. And my heart and eyes let go.
"Oh, Doctor…" I whispered through sobs, "My dear, lovely Doctor…" I understood in a second why he never used the word "love" to describe how he felt. It was such a hollow word now, with no useful meaning. I ran my hand over his head, smoothing his hair and comforting him. He buried his face into my shoulder. Suddenly I felt his hurricane shift to deeper, grayer shades, and felt all of his grief, anguish, hopelessness, nervousness, loss, and terror, and saw flashes of his memories, of my face screaming in the shuttle pod, heard his voice as it warned me that he would kill me if I didn't freeze the entity out of him.
I heard him distinctly cry out "I'm so scared," and realized it was actually him, breathing out those words in wet sobs into my shoulder. That angry sun had provoked something terrifying in him, reminded him that he cannot always control himself and cannot always promise that he will not harm those he cares about. He realized that he could have hurt me; and that scared him to death.
"Doctor, but you didn't…" I tried to offer words of consolation, but he wasn't listening. His anxiety got the better of him, his hurricane in my mind turned black and tumultuous, and his hearts began to beat faster, out of sync. I felt him going into a panic, shivering, his skin damp. I tried my best to absorb the panic in his, but he suddenly cut the link off. I mustered my most calming nurse voice I could find, "Doctor, I'm right here, I've got you. I'm not going anywhere." I stroked his hair again, "You're safe with me." I felt him relax into my words. "Doctor," I continued, "let's get you to bed." As much as I didn't want to let him go, I know he needed to rest.
"Okay…" he sighed into my hair, "But… please…" he raised his head, eyes red and hair sticking out all over, and I reluctantly dropped my hands away so he could move freely. Oh, gosh I love him. He pulled away so he could untangle his fingers from my hair and rub his eyes with both hands. Our embrace abruptly came to an end.
"Please," he continued after a deep breath, "don't leave me." The weakness still evident in his voice melted me again. I leaned over and kissed his tear-stained cheek, took his hand, and led him to his room.
I helped him remove his coat and jacket, and I saw him flash a smile at my matter-of-fact nurse-y bedside manner, and he weakly crawled on to his bed, sitting up. I felt him watching me as I wordlessly removed his shoes and neck tie, loosened the top couple buttons of his shirt, and pulled up a chair next to his bed. I saw him give into fatigue and lay down on his side, facing me, eyes closed. He must have been too exhausted to bother with blankets or jammies. My beautiful, slender Doctor, laying there, so tired, and yet so full of life. I leaned in and placed my head on his chest; his breathing was more regular, and his hearts were beating more calmly. I kept my head there, just listening.
"Martha," I heard his voice rumble in chest. I looked up. His eyes were still closed. He continued, "you're brilliant." And I saw him smile, such a tender, kind smile. He reached out a hand, and I took it. I felt him tug, and he scooted over. I smiled and scooted in next to him, and I cupped his cheek in my hand. I touched my forehead to his.
"You're safe with me," I reassured him. And he fell asleep. And I lay there with my beautifully broken Doctor. What a funny a man.