Martin Ellingham is probably the most complex character I've ever come across on television, I think. I've seen the film, Saving Grace, from where the inspiration came but that Doc Martin as little in common with the Doc Martin of the series. That Doc Martin seems to be more of what Martin Clunes is like, from the few interviews I've seen. And that makes his portrayal of Ellingham even more fascinating. There is a little bit of all of us in Martin Ellingham probably; it's just that Martin Ellingham is so much more honest about it, painfully so. I don't own the series and have nothing to do with any of it. But I do like to borrow the characters and play with them a little.

I hope you enjoy this little piece. Please let me know what you think of it. I'm still struggling to get the voices right, but I talk a lot and Martin doesn't.

He stood in the doorway and watched her sleep. She looked more comfortable, more relaxed than he could remember seeing her in recent months. Beyond that, she looked beautiful; but of course, to his eyes she always did. A soft sigh escaped him as he watched her. How had they come to this place? How had he let it happen?

Things had never been easy between them, largely because he wasn't easy, he acknowledged to himself. But the events of the last few days, the sports day fiasco, the horrible sound of her coming in contact with that car, the hospital, barely getting to her in time and getting her off that plane, the surgery, all of it had taken a toll. Thankfully she had agreed to come back home while she recovered. It hadn't taken too much coaxing, just his promise to give her space.

His eyes flickered over the darkening room. It would be completely dark soon, the sun having set. He was sleeping in James' room but his clothes were still in here, as was the bathroom. Quietly he gathered his nightclothes and slipped into the bathroom to ready himself for the night. James was already in bed and he would be soon, even if it was just to read his medical journals. Normally that was something he would do downstairs but he needed to be close to his family physically, even if he couldn't be emotionally.

Ruth had given him the name of a therapist in London, who had referred him to a colleague in Truro. The first appointment was the following week. Ruth had been pleased when he informed her and had even encouraged him. But she didn't know about it yet. Talking was still difficult for them.

He finished cleaning his teeth and patted his face dry with a towel. Carefully he opened the door after switching off the light. As he stepped into the now dark bedroom, he heard her stir. "Martin?"

He liked the way she said his name, emphasis on the 't'; no one else said it quite like she did. "Yes?"

"Um…what time is it?" she asked groggily.

"Almost nine," he said softly. "I um…I was just preparing for bed." His eyes were adjusting to the darkness and he could see her struggling to sit up. "Here, let me help you…" He scooted around the bed and took her arm in his hand hoping to give her something solid to hold onto.

"Thank you," she murmured as she settled against the headboard.

"How are you feeling?" he asked in precise measured tones, falling into 'doctor mode' as she called it.

"Um…better, I think. Headache is gone, shoulder is sore but not as much. I…"

"Yes?"

"I think I'm a little hungry actually."

"Oh…er…there is some soup. I could warm it for you." The weight in his chest suddenly feeling lighter as there was something he could do for her.

"That would be nice. Thank you."

"Yes, well…alright then." He turned away and left the room, eager to do anything to help his Louisa. At the bottom of the steps he paused. How much longer would she be his to help?

Busy with heating the soup, he didn't hear her come into the lounge and stand at the edge of the kitchen. It was only when he turned to put a napkin and spoon on the tray that he realized she was there, watching him. "I would have brought it up to you," he said gently.

"I know," she replied. He thought he detected a small smile, which made his chest constrict. "I needed to see something besides the inside of the bedroom so I thought…"

"Yes…right, of course…" he said. "I'll um…I'll pour up the soup and leave you to it then." He heard her sigh and looked at her, longing to reach out and touch her…just feel her warmth. But he had promised, so his hands remained at his side. It didn't stop the longing though and he stood mutely, simply soaking her in the sight of her.

"I know it is later than you like to eat but…do you think you could sit with me while I do?" her voice was small and hesitant and it nearly broke his heart, again.

"Of course." He hoped the eagerness he felt at her suggestion wasn't reflected in his voice.

He helped her settle in a chair and then eased down into his own. She took a sip of the soup. "Hmmm… this is delicious," she said appreciatively.

"Thank you," he replied stiffly. Inwardly he flinched. Why did he have to always sound so terse…sterile even, especially with her? "I'm…um…glad you like it." There, he had managed one of the social niceties he'd heard somewhere. She looked across at him with an expression he couldn't read. But then, he wasn't very good at reading people's expressions, especially hers.

"Martin…" God, he loved the sound of her saying his name, especially in that soft silky tone she had just used. It made him want to take her in his arms and hold her and tell her all that he felt and never let her go, but he remained still and quiet. After all, that bit about holding her was the way he always felt now; his life just was all wrong without her near. "I appreciate that you are trying to give me that space I asked for…well, demanded really; but you're too quiet. What I said at the hospital… about us not going back to the way it was…" Her gaze drifted away from him as she left her thought dangling.

"What?" He asked, anxious to please her, to see to her every need or wish and afraid he could never do that.

"Hmmm? Oh um…It's just, you're so quiet, so restrained; even more than usual. We'll never get anywhere like that."

"I don't mean to… It's just that I…I don't know what to say. I don't want you to be unhappy and I seem to upset you… make you unhappy." Oh how he wanted to make her happy! He wanted it more than he had ever wanted anything. Why was it so difficult, he wondered.

She looked at him, her face a mixture of frustration and hurt. "I know," she said meekly.

"Louisa, I …"

"Martin, I don't understand why it is all so difficult for you. There is so much about you that I admire…love. But sometimes…"

He swallowed with some difficulty as he digested what she said. She did still love him, she said; that was a good sign, wasn't it? "Yes, I know and I can't explain… it is just the way I am, have always been. I don't think …" his words dropped off as his mind caught in one of his endless loops. It frustrated him that he could be so logical, so definitive about everything else but when it came to her, he was simply rubbish.

"Think what?"

"I …um…I'm not …good at talking, especially about ... my feelings...love, I mean. I know I love you…and James; but I don't know what to do about it, how to manage it, or even really how to say it." I want to give you everything, his mind whispered. I would do anything…

She continued sipping her soup quietly, making no reply, seeming to be deep in thought. He watched her intently, as he often did but now, now he wanted to memorize every small detail. He wanted to be able to look back and recall every movement, every expression, and every nuance of this time.

"You are doing it again," she chided softly.

"What?"

"Watching me…staring. It makes me …uncomfortable."

"Oh…er, um…sorry." He tried to look away but slowly his gaze wandered back to her.

"Martin!" She huffed. "Why do you do that anyway?"

"I…it…" he remembered something she had said in the hospital, the first time, about being happy. "It makes me happy…more than anything; it calms me."

She sighed again but he thought he detected a hint of a smile on her face as she stared at her soup bowl. "You like watching me? That's lovely but why?" She sounded incredulous.

"You're beautiful," he replied simply. "Breathtakingly so…"

"Thank you, but there has to be more to it than just that. The sea is beautiful but you don't sit at your window and watch it all day."

"Not as beautiful as you and…" He hesitated, afraid to say too much, afraid of mucking it up.

"And?"

He felt an all too familiar sensation in his eyes as they filled with tears that he refused to let fall. Trying to calm himself, he swallowed again. "I used to wander around the village, you know. Everyday…just so I could see you…by chance. It made everything else…bearable. You um…you'll leave soon and take James with you and after you are gone…I want to remember…everything."

Her head shot up as it turned so she could look at him, a shadow of a flinch in her expression. "What?"

"I don't want to forget anything about you, the moments we spend together, everything."

"Martin, if this is your attempt to get me to stay…"

"No. I mean, I do want you to stay but….I understand that you won't," he said as he felt another crack form in his already shattered heart. "You said we couldn't go back to the way we were and I agreed. I don't want that either. I…I made an appointment…next week… with someone Ruth recommended. I can't seem to sort this out so I thought… well, I need to… for when you come back, if you come back." His voice faded hopelessly at the end

She saw his eyes fill, the redness indicating just how full they were. She also watched his expression, his eyes especially. They spoke of such sadness. His shoulders were slightly slumped and he looked lost…alone and frightened. And she knew in that instant she couldn't leave, not now. He needed her; he couldn't quite say it yet but he did. Didn't his appointment prove how much she meant to him, how much 'they' meant to him, how much he wanted her to stay, how hard he was willing to try? "I'm…I'm not going anywhere," she said hesitantly. "That is…as long as you keep your appointment and work with the therapist. I love you, Martin; I don't want to leave you. I don't want to take James away from you. But things must get better."

Those tears that had gathered in his eyes suddenly flooded out uncontrollably. "You…you're staying?" He swallowed again and took a deep breath. Then straightening up a little, he gave his head a slight nod. "Th…thank you."

They were still guarded with one another, still awkward. But he thought, perhaps he was finally finding the right direction. Perhaps he could finally find his way out of the darkness. As he looked again at Louisa, he felt the crushing weight of his failure with her lift just a little.