A/N- School starts tomorrow. I should be finishing my summer work... I'm not. I'm writing Doctor Who fanfiction, from Ten's POV because he is my style. I tried writing for Eleven... It failed. I'm going to stick to Ten. He's a LORD OF TIME AND SEX. Ahem. Please ignore the fangirl behind the curtain.
"Doctor?" Martha repeats the word loudly, as if she's said it several times already, and my eyes snap back to her. She rolls her eyes and sighs, hands on her hips.
"Did you hear a word I just said?" She demands, stalking over to me and getting into my personal space.
"Of course I did!" I lie, taking a step away from her and fiddling with my screwdriver. Her eyes narrow and I know she knows. The true question is, will she say anything. She taps her foot impatiently, and I almost start to hope that I've gotten away with it.
"Then what did I say?" Martha raises her chin in that way to hers, as if daring me to try and prove her wrong now. I bite my lip and think about three minutes ago, trying to focus on the sound of her voice, and what she was saying. All too soon I give up, and I'm sure she sees the fight leave my eyes.
Martha sighs again, shoulders slumped, the fight has gone out of her too.
"Rose again, then?" She asks, and I shrug. Silently turning away from her, I begin to play with random knobs and buttons and switches on the console. This is not a conversation I want to have.
I hear her come up behind me, and I feel her hand on my shoulder, but I am not really there. My mind is a million miles away, in a whole other universe. I wonder what she is doing, what she is saying, what she is wearing, who she is talking to. I wonder if she is happy. I am so desperate to know even the smallest things about her life now, things that I wouldn't have ever thought to ask about before. I want to know if she sleeps on the left or the right side of the bed. If she works in a shop, or she's going to school, or she's staying at home spending Pete's money.
Martha turns me around and it movement pulls me from my thoughts again. I hastily swipe at the tears that have appeared in my eyes, and I pray that she doesn't notice. But of course she does. She even brings her hand up for a moment, stretching her fingers out toward my damp cheek, but she let's it fall, not touching me.
"What?" I demand, meeting her concerned gaze, and she takes a step back at my harsh tone, much harsher than I had intended it to be. But I don't apologize.
"You're not the only one who's ever lost someone Doctor." She snaps, eyes flashing angrily now, and I snort, smiling darkly and shaking my head.
"But that's the thing Martha. I haven't just lost someone, I have lost everyone. Every last Time Lord, my entire race, my family, Martha. And I killed them. I killed my family and my people. And I was so alone, so very alone, until I met her. She saved me. Saved me from myself. One human. One tiny, stupid human. And by all the gods in this, and every other, universe, she was brilliant. And now she's gone, and it's because of me. You can leave, you can go home to your sister, and your brother. Your mother and your father. Your family. All I can do is move on."
I hold her eyes for several minutes after that. I do not look away, and I can see the hurt register in her eyes and I can see the pain and the betrayal and the accusation in them. And for a split second it takes me back to Gallifrey, and I am watching them all die, because a split second is all it takes. My daughter looks at me, long black hair flowing out behind her and the exact same look in her eyes.
Finally I look away, ducking my head in shame because I have hurt Martha.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." I whisper the words, and I'm not sure she hears me. She doesn't say anything. When I look back up at her, she hasn't moved. She's still frozen where she was standing, tears falling down her face, though she makes no move to wipe them away. Slowly, ever so slowly, I raise my hand and brush the wetness from her cheek.
"Martha?" I ask quietly, and she stops staring through me and starts staring at me.
"I'm sorry." I repeat, not quite sure what I was apologizing for, but knowing the words need to be said. She waves my words away and looks at me sadly. She reaches out and cups my cheek in her hand, still just looking at me.
"You poor, poor man." She murmurs, thumb running over my eyebrow.
"You save everyone, trying to prove your own goodness to yourself. And you don't even stop long enough to hear them say thank-you. You should Doctor, because the people out there, everyone who knows about you, they love you so much. All they know is that you saved them, and they are so thankful because you give them hope. When was the last time you looked around you?." She pauses for a moment, looking me over.
"You are not alone, Doctor. Remember that." Martha pulls her hand away, and looks at me again. Then she turns on her heal and walks away, leaving me alone without a backwards glance.
Somewhere deep down, I know she's right. That I am not alone. I have her, and I had Donna. And for what it's worth I even have Captain Jack Harkness. But what I don't have, who I don't have is Rose.
Most of the time, I am fine. I can ignore the pain and the emptiness that I feel without her. I can smile, and save worlds, and fly off in my TARDIS. But then there are the times when it hits me so hard, that it's all I can do to double over, and wait for the storm to pass. That's when I start pressing buttons and spinning wheels. I bend time and space and weave them into something different, somewhere different, so that I can get away, and I can keep busy, and I can forget the pain for just a little while.
With Rose I was traveling. Seeing and enjoying and appreciating.
But without her, I'm doing what I've been doing for nine hundred years. It's the only thing I can do.
I can keep running away. Running from what was, what has been, what used to be.