Go back and watch the episode "42," from series 3. Something happens in the episode that I felt really should have been addressed. How good are you at lip-reading? Here is my angst-soaked interpretation of the fallout from that incident. This takes place just as Martha and the Doctor get back into the TARDIS after saving McDonnell's ship.
She hadn't been lying when she called Riley "hot," and his kiss had been, like the day, smouldering. But she had bigger, better things on her mind now. Something new was amiss, and she was ecstatic.
She closed the TARDIS door behind her. "I'm sorry," she said.
The Doctor seemed lost in thought. Finally, "Sorry. About what?"
About "Riley," she answered. "Just now."
"Riley?" he asked, eyes wide.
"Yes, Riley Vashtee."
"What about him?"
"The kiss. Just now."
He smiled brightly. "Did you snog him? That's brilliant! I wondered if something happened in that ejection pod, you know, impending death and all. How was it?"
She felt that he was just being brave. She smiled sadly, regretting having hurt him, but she approached him. She put both hands on his arms.
"You need to know that it was a one-off. Nothing like that will ever happen again, okay?" Her eyes were soulful, half-closed, and in spite of himself, he had to admit, beautiful. "Do you believe me?"
He was confused. Still, he answered, "Yes," quite truthfully. As intrigued as he was by these events, it just wasn't like her, and he had to assume that it was, as she said, a one-off.
"Good," she said. She looked at him with unabashed love in her eyes. She felt free to show him her true colours now, considering what she now knew.
She had remained with him, even when it looked like McDonnell's ship would fly into the sun. She had riskily ordered McDonnell's crew to dump their fuel. She had blasted the Doctor with a lethal amount of ice in order to save his life. And she would have had the courage to do none of that without knowing… without this knew revelation…
She smiled. Once again, he'd saved the day. He gave her the credit, but she'd never have managed it without his love, without his having given her something to hold on to, something to live for.
The Doctor could see that something untold was going on inside her mind. He was still confused. Looking at her sideways, cautiously, he flipped a bunch of switches on the TARDIS console and swooshed them off to their next destination. She slipped round the console and perched atop the captain's chair.
She didn't bother trying to steal glances at his fantastic hair, his adorable freckles, his enticingly expressive mouth. She stared without compunction. It made him just a bit uncomfortable. He had to ask.
"Martha, are you all right?"
"I'm fine," she answered, still smiling at him giddily. "Perfect, in fact. Thanks to you."
"I made you perfect?"
"Well… perhaps not perfect," she said, sheepishly. "But ludicrously happy."
"Really?" he asked. He leaned back on the console with his arms crossed over his chest. "And how did I manage to do that?"
"Well," she said, standing. She smoothed his lapels. "You know."
"No, I don't. But I'm dying to," he told her. He was smiling, again, cautiously.
She continued to smooth his already cooperatively flat lapels. She paused, wasn't entirely ready to look him in the eyes. "Because of what you said."
He skimmed his mind for the events of the past hour or so. He'd said a lot of things.
"I said the sun was alive," he said. Perhaps she'd always suspected.
"No," she said, looking up at him, grinning.
"I said 'burn with me'," he suggested. Perhaps she'd found it sinister and sexy or something.
"Yeah, I sort of liked that, but that's not what I'm talking about."
"I said McDonnell should have scanned for life," he said.
"No, that's not it, Doctor."
"Then I'm stumped, Martha," he said, turning toward the control panel to adjust their trajectory. The TARDIS had popped up on someone's radar, and a subtle veering off-track would look less like a brazen attempt to flout their sonar. He didn't want to appear as though he was running from something.
She slipped her arms around his waist. It felt like she'd waited years to do that, to find out what his body felt like close-up, to feel both hearts beating against her, to touch him, stop having secrets from him. In reality, who knew how long it had been - months? Time meant so much and so little in the TARDIS, so it was difficult to say. All she knew was that even one moment spent feeling second-best was too long, and now all of that was over. She could leave her angst behind. He'd never told Rose he loved her, but he'd said it to Martha. As she pushed her arms intimately inside his suit coat, she felt vindicated, free and unconscionably happy.
For his part, he was surprised, but it wasn't entirely unpleasant being touched by Martha, having her so boldly wrapped about him. He knew something wasn't right, but it felt good, and he wanted to find out what the hell was going on before he began to pry her hands away.
Her eyes still reflected something deep and new. She relished the moment before looking up at him. She gazed at him with an epic longing. "You said it," she said. "You told me how you feel. And I need you to know that I feel the same way. I have felt that way since I met you, since the hospital on the moon, through Shakespeare, through New New York, Old New York, and Lazarus… I've felt it so completely, that sometimes I thought I might explode. I even thought seriously of walking away when we were at my flat last time, just because I thought you wouldn't return my feelings. But now I know. And it's all I need to know. Ever."
He felt a little surge of panic inside, but he was too stunned to show it. His smile remained, as though frozen.
She smiled gently and turned up her mouth to be kissed. Instinctively, he obliged, still without having the slightest clue why, or really what she was talking about. They kissed with a kind of kindred passion, as though the fateful collision of souls that she was feeling was contagious. It was quite a coup for him, to indulge in a nice long kiss with someone without a planet in peril, without it being a ruse or a cure or the result of possession. They just wanted to kiss, so they did. Apparently.
When she pulled away from him, the confusion set back in again. What did she mean, he'd told her how he felt? Had he said something while he was possessed with the consciousness of the sun that made her think that? And if he had, surely she was clever enough to realise that he wasn't himself. Did she think he loved her? And more importantly, did this imply that she loved him? She'd said that she returns his feelings… if only he knew what these feelings were supposed to be.
Oh, in that case, that kiss was a huge mistake! He'd gone along because he was lost in the moment and it felt good. And frankly, he hadn't been sure quite what else to do. He'd likely just compounded some kind of delusion, some kind of misunderstanding…
She took two steps back from him, still regarding him lovingly. "Let's do something special tonight," she said.
He swallowed. "Special?"
"Yeah," she said. "You fix up the dining room… dinner for two. I'll take care of the dinner. Do you like eggplant? I know a fantastic parmesan recipe. It's a wonderfully romantic meal if you do it with broccoli, and some finger-foods. Very sensual."
"Er, eggplant, yeah," he said. He scratched the back of his head. "Martha… I…"
"Right then. We'll meet up at six. I'll wear something nice, and maybe scare up some wine. Is it a date then?"
"I suppose," he said, reluctantly. She seemed to be on some kind of runaway vehicle headed for a romantic dinner, and he was the blindfolded passenger. The one in the trunk. He knew he should be grasping desperately for something to say that could stop her careening into a brick wall, but his mind was blank. His stunned near-silence prevailed as his brain remained in neutral.
She began to walk happily away. Just before leaving the room, she turned. "I just want you to know that when I was in that jettison hatch, it was the most frightened I've ever been in my whole life. But seeing you mouth the words I love you…" she smiled widely, and her eyes drifted wistfully to the ceiling. "Oh, there are no words. It was the most magical moment of my life. It was like I was finally alive, even though I was two minutes from death."
"Oh," he said, furrowing his brow. She didn't notice the furrow.
"And I've waited I don't know how long to say this to you, and now I know that I can: I love you, too, Doctor," she said, then hesitated. She looked him squarely and seriously in the eyes. "I love you."
He smiled warmly, knowing that anything he said right now would mean disaster. Fortunately, his warmth was enough for her, and she turned to ready herself for their big date.
When she was gone, he ran both hands through his dishevelled hair and pulled tight. He dragged himself to the captain's chair and sat. How in creation, how in a million billion years was he going to tell her that he'd been mouthing the words I'll save you, and she'd simply seen what she wanted to see?
How was he going to decimate her, after having promised to save her?
Kindly review. I'm not that great at angst, so constructive criticism may be in order.