A/N: So... this was only supposed to be a one-shot but then my muse had other ideas so it's gonna be a three-shot instead! Reviews are greatly appreciated.

Disclaimer: If I owned Doctor Who, The Doctor and Martha would be together right now and I wouldn't want to punch Ten in the face so much in season 3.


Martha sighed as she walked through the corridors to the maid quarters. It had been a long, tiring day filled with one too many racist remarks. It's just the time period. It's just the time period. She repeated that to herself as she walked. Still didn't make the remarks sting any less.

She was jolted out of her thoughts when she heard the muffled sound of crying coming from her right. She was passing by John Smith's room. Remembering the last time The Doctor had a nightmare, Martha sprung into action. She opened the door quietly, so as not to startle him if he was awake. Of course, he wasn't. He was tossing and turning on his bed, forehead soaked in sweat—and he was calling her name. "Martha. Martha! I'll save you!"

Martha walked over to his side and shook him gently. "Doc—" she stopped herself. "Sir, wake up!"

He jolted awake and looked around frantically. He seemed to be unaware of his surroundings.

She put her hands on his shoulder and pushed him back down on the bed gently. "Shhh. You're all right. You were having a nightmare."

He was breathing heavily and his eyes were wild. "Martha. Y-you're alive."

She smiled at him gently. "Yes, I am alive."

John sat up in bed and took a deep breath. "Y-you died in my dream," he said quietly. He was looking down at his lap.

"Want to talk about?" Martha asked, having a pretty good idea what the nightmare was about.

"You'd think I was mad," John said with a bitter laugh.

"Was it about The Doctor?"

"Yes. It was." It took some prodding, but eventually John revealed to his maid what his dream was about. She was his companion and he was The Doctor and he couldn't save her from falling into the living sun.

By the end of his recollection, John was fighting back tears and he was shaking slightly. He truly did care about Martha Jones. She had always taken care of him—both in reality and these dreams he had where he was The Doctor. He knew what other people said about her—simply for looking different. He thought she was beautiful.

Of course, it would be wildly inappropriate for him to tell her that. Sometimes though—sometimes, he just wanted to say to hell with it all and kiss her. For now though, he kept silent—he wasn't sure for how much longer.

Martha sat down on the edge of the bed and reached up to run her fingers through his hair. John closed his eyes and let out a content sigh. His maid quickly drew her hand back. "I'm sorry sir, that was inappropriate."

"No, no, I don't mind," he protested. "In fact, I quite enjoy it." It relaxed him and he was still on edge from the nightmare.

Martha hesitated but after a few seconds, she brought her hand back to run her fingers through his hair again.


The next night, Martha found herself in the same position—and the night after that and the night after. It seemed that the nightmares were recurring, and getting worse.

By the fifth night, she knew exactly what to do. She woke Mr. Smith up and then ran her fingers through his hair until he fell back to sleep. This time though, John grabbed her hand before she could leave.

Martha looked down at him. The blanket was pulled up to his chin and he was staring up at her with those wide brown eyes of his. "Could... Could you... possibly stay tonight?" He was timid—afraid she would reject him.

She didn't want to, but... "I'm... I'm sorry, sir, but people will talk if I'm not in my bed." It was the sad truth. Martha wished she could say to hell with it all and stay and comfort him because that was her nature. But they both needed to keep their jobs until the end of the semester.

John's face fell. "Right. You're absolutely right. Silly old me."

Martha's heart broke. "It's not that I don't want to, it's just—"

"No, no. I understand." He forced a smile. "Thank you, Martha."

She smiled sadly and leaned down to press her lips to his forehead. "Goodnight sir. I'll see you in the morning."

"Goodnight Martha."


John sighed as he reached up to touch the spot where Martha had kissed him. He cursed the time period he lived in. Of course people would frown upon the thought of Martha staying in his room—even for a night. Nevermind the fact that she was simply comforting him. And it wasn't even because she was his maid. No, it was because she simply looked different.

As sad as that thought made him, he wouldn't be the reason she lost her job. He would never be able to forgive himself if that happened.

Sometimes he wished he actually was that mad time traveler with the big blue box. He wouldn't have to worry about society judging him and he would be able to show Martha the stars.


The next night was different. When Martha walked into John Smith's room, he was in the middle of another nightmare—that hadn't changed. But what he said had changed.

"Martha! Martha, I love you." It was quiet, so quiet that she thought she must have misheard him. But then he repeated it. "Martha, I'm so sorry. I love you."

She didn't have to wake him up this time either. His eyes flew open and he sat up, gasping for breath. Then his eyes landed on her and he let out a sigh of relief. "You're alive."

"I am," she said, feeling a bit awkward after hearing what she had just heard. She hated the way that her heartbeat sped up. She would not get her hopes up. This was John Smith. He was not The Doctor, even though they looked exactly the same. He probably wouldn't remember anything about 1913 once she gave him the watch to open and he would go back to comparing her to Rose and ignoring her feelings for him.

Martha sat down on the edge of the bed as John recounted this new nightmare to her. It started out the same, he said, but the ending was different. He saved her from the burning sun but she ended up dying in some other way. "You were dying in my arms, Martha. And I—I had to tell you..." he trailed off, unsure of how to continue. "I had to tell you that I care about you. And I truly do, Martha."

He ducked his head and blushed furiously. Martha closed her eyes and reminded herself not to get her hopes up. "I—I'm sorry, sir, but—"

"It's inappropriate, I know," John was quick to say. "But I couldn't keep it in any longer. I care about you, Martha Jones. I don't expect you to feel the same way, but well, now you know."

She wasn't sure how to respond. Finally, after a minute of awkward silence, she said, "I—I have to go." And then she was gone.


From that point on, things got a bit awkward for both of them. Martha only spoke to him when she absolutely needed to and her nightly visits ceased. He felt horrible for messing everything up. He shouldn't have said anything about his feelings for her.

Unfortunately, the nightmares were still there. They weren't a nightly occurrence, but they happened often enough that he wished that Martha still checked up on him. And then he met Nurse Redfern.

She was nice enough and clearly attracted to him. He couldn't say that he felt the same way, but he decided that it would be nice to have a friend.

Nurse Redfern was fixing up his head after that nasty tumble down the stairs. He couldn't help but wince and wish that Martha was the one fixing him up. She always seemed to know what to do, even though she'd never received any proper training. John remembered his dreams of The Doctor and his companion—Dr. Martha Jones. Or almost doctor, anyway. She was a brilliant medical student in his dreams.

He was brought out of his musings when Martha rushed into his room, out of breath. Clearly she had sprinted in her haste to make sure he was okay. He was touched to know that she still cared.

Martha asked if Nurse Redfern had checked for a concussion and John had to force himself not to say anything when he heard Joan's response. He knew that she was nurse and Martha was just a maid, but Martha had patched him up on more than one occasion and he trusted her with his life.

He rambled mindlessly as Martha tidied up his things—about his adventures as The Doctor in his dreams. However, as soon as she left the room, he said quietly and calmly, "Matron, I'll kindly ask you not to speak to my maid that way again."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Don't make me repeat myself. She was only worried about me." With that, he stood up and walked out of the room.


Martha found herself outside John's room later that night. She could hear his muffled cries and she felt a pang of guilt. She had been ignoring his nightmares since he admitted his feelings for her but after today, she had realized she couldn't do that anymore. It just wasn't in her nature. She had to take care of him.

She pushed the door open and walked over to his bed, shaking him awake gently.

"Martha," he breathed. "I—"

She put a finger over his lips to quiet him. "I know I've been avoiding you. I'm sorry—but I just couldn't stand there and listen to you suffering."

"You're a good person, Martha. I hope you know that."

She could feel herself blush. "I—I should go. I just wanted to check up on you. Good night, sir."

Before he could answer, she was gone.


John Smith's days were spent trying to distract himself from his feelings for Martha. Nurse Redfern proved to be an adequate distraction—during the day anyway.

At night, he was reminded of how much he cared about Martha all over again when she came to check up on him. He was having the nightmare less and less often, but Martha still checked on him every single night. He had to keep reminding himself that it was inappropriate to kiss her.

That's how the rest of the term went—until everything changed. It was the night of the dance and Martha seemed to have gone completely mad. She was telling him that he actually was The Doctor and that it was time for him to change back. She kept saying that all he had to do was open the watch.

Except... he didn't want to. Part of him was scared but the other part was... jealous. It was obvious that Martha cared deeply about this Doctor. Having lived as The Doctor in his dreams, John felt confident saying that the time-traveling alien couldn't love Martha nearly as much as he—John Smith the human—did.

There they were—in that abandoned house—he, Martha, Joan Redfern, and Tim Latimer. Truth be told, he wasn't even paying attention to Joan or Tim. His attention was entirely focused on Martha.

"Please. Just open the watch," she pleaded.

"And if I don't?" he asked quietly.

"If you don't, the whole world will end. Here. In 1913."

"He probably doesn't love you as much as I do."

"I don't care."

Oh, he wanted to say no. He wanted to tell her that he wouldn't open that watch but then... he realized he couldn't exactly force her to love him back. He took a deep breath and then held his hand out. "Okay."

Martha's eyes widened in surprise but she handed over the fob watch.

Immediately he could hear voices—voices that told him who he was and what he needed to do and what he had done in the past. It scared him. "I—I'm sorry, I can't do this."

"Yes you can!" she insisted. She walked over to him and leaned up to whisper in his ear, "If you won't do it for the rest of the world, will you at least do it for me?"

Why did she have to say that? He sighed and looked down at the watch in his hand. Martha stepped back to look into his eyes. "Please?" She said.

He looked at her and then nodded. She smiled gently and before he knew it, her lips were pressed against his.

He wrapped his arms around her waist as the kiss deepened. And then he opened the watch.


Martha stood outside the TARDIS with The Doctor. He was back to normal now—which meant everything he had felt as John Smith was gone. She smiled sadly at the thought.

They said goodbye to Tim and then The Doctor turned to her. "Martha, I just wanted to thank you for taking care of me while I was John Smith."

"Of course." She remembered the kiss she had shared with the human version of The Doctor and she quickly added, "Just so you know, I would have done anything to get you to change back." It was a lie and they both knew it.

The Doctor just nodded before opening the door to the TARDIS. Martha headed to her room while The Doctor got the TARDIS into the vortex. She was halfway there when she felt a pair of arms snake around her waist. She gasped.

The Doctor pulled her close and leaned down to whisper in her ear, "By the way, I love you too Martha Jones."