Jack sat with Gwen and Ianto and looked into Martha's room in the TARDIS. She was lying on her bed, eyes firmly shut, completely still. The Doctor was sat by her side holding her hand. Talking to her. Jack wished he knew what he was saying.

"I don't believe it," said Gwen quietly. "I didn't know there was such a thing as pure evil. Now, I think I do. How could he do this to her?"

"He's lucky the Doctor was there to stop me breaking his neck," Jack growled. "After all he did… the abusing, the hypnotising even… and trying to bring the Master back."

"But at their wedding I thought he was lovely," said Gwen. "Although… we were talking and he told me that… if he wasn't a Doctor he would have been an actor. And he'd make a hell of a good actor."

"I know that she probably doesn't realise this," said Ianto slowly. "But I'd really begun to care about Martha Jones."

"Me too," said Gwen.

"Yeah." Jack hissed out a chug of air between his teeth. "After all we'd been through, I really didn't think anything could get the better of her."

"It hasn't," said Gwen resolutely. "Not yet."

Jack leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.

After the Doctor had hurried Martha away, the remaining companions had silently and methodically carted Tom off after them. On arrival at the TARDIS, they had locked Tom up in a cell. The cell was the furthest room away from Martha's. The Doctor had been insistent that he was not to be anywhere near her.

Then Gwen had taken the terrible task of calling Francine. Francine had always liked Gwen, even though they only met twice, once at the wedding and once more at a party Martha had arranged to celebrate just life. Tom hadn't been at that party. India, she recalled.

"Hello, Francine," she'd said. "It's Gwen."

"Gwen? Are you all right? The Doctor said you were being tortured!"

"I'm fine. Now. It's Martha."

"Martha! Oh God, is that why she wasn't answering any of my emails? Is she in trouble? Is she d- dead?"

"She's… ill. I can't explain over the phone, Francine. The TARDIS is parked outside Martha's flat. Come quickly."

"Gwen…"

"Please," said Gwen. "I promise we'll tell you everything when you get here. Maybe take Leo and Clive if you can get hold of them." Then she hung up.

So now they were all waiting in anticipation for the appearance of the infamous Francine Jones.

The Doctor sat by Martha's bed, closing his eyes. This was all his fault. It was his fault that the women he loved was lying, silent and still, on her bed, with no guarantees of waking up. If he had just left her alone she would be… better or worse? It was so hard to tell. He reached out and gently touched her cheek. She winced at the contact and the Doctor leaned forward in anticipation… but she settled down again almost immediately.

"Why?" he murmured, feeling tears threaten to boil up in his eyes. "Why won't you just wake up?" It was a stupid question. He already knew the answer, at that. Tom had driven her mad with lust, longing and desire. The level of intimacy experienced after the withdrawal had been too much and her brain had gone into shutdown. Martha Jones had been literally been paralysed by love. No, obsession.

He liked to think she loved him.

If he were her, he'd hate himself. All he knew was that he loved her more than was possible. Too much to put into words, impossible to express. It was too much to bear with seeing her life this. Venerable and weak. Dying. He brushed his lips again her limp hand and sung softly into her fist.

"Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate."

He felt a lump rising in his throat, felt a tear trickle down his nose. Stealing in a short breath he forced himself to continue.

"Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, and summer's lease hath all to short a date."

His voice rose in angst.

"Sometimes too hot, the eye of heaven shines, and often is, his gold complexion dims…"

He buried his head in the covers of her bed and began to cry openly for the first time. He choked out the final lines of the sonnet, skipping the part in the middle.

"And this gives life to thee."

"Doctor?" Jack was leaning against the doorframe wearing a weak, sympathetic smile. "Doctor, Martha's family are here." Francine peered round the corner of the door and her mouth dropped in horror.

"Martha?" The Doctor stood up and gave Martha's hand a reassuring squeeze, which he hoped she might be able to feel. He stepped away from the bed and looked at Francine nervously, kneading his eyes with his fist.

"Mrs Jones," he said gruffly. She stumbled forward and looked up at him in bewilderment.

"Why is this happening?" she asked. "Am I going to lose both my daughters now? Is that what's going to happen?"

The Doctor kept silent.

"What happened to her?" Francine asked without looking up from the bed. "Tell me!"

"Sit down," said the Doctor. And he began Francine what had happened to her remaining daughter. Tears fell steadily from both their eyes and once the Doctor had concluded his tale, he received something from Francine he was not ready for. A hug.

"Thank you," said Francine thickly.

"What?" The Doctor wiped his face fiercely and looked at her quizzically.

"You looked after her. Whether she makes it or not, you did all you could, and I really appreciate it."

"She will wake up," said the Doctor earnestly. "She can't not. She will. Martha is strong, you don't know how strong. She's been through so much and she's always survived. She's optimistic and independent and incredible. A cowardly, pathetic Malum will not be allowed to get the better of her. And when she wakes up we're taking Tom to Volag-nog, it's this prison on another planet. I'm sure that they'll welcome him. And we'll organise a funeral for Tish and another one for Mickey and she'll be well enough to attend both of them. Because she's Martha. She'll pull through."

"I… I hope you're right." Francine took Martha's hand and kissed it softly. "Come back to us Martha," she whispered. "Please, please, please come back to us. Don't leave us, Martha. We need you. We need you, we need you, we need you…" The Doctor quietly and tactfully slipped out the room.

Gwen was the only one still outside. The Doctor looked at her helplessly.

"I-" he began. He didn't have to speak. Gwen reached up and brushed his cheek his her lips, embracing him warmly. He began to howl piteously and she gently lowered him into a chair.

"I'm so sorry," she said. "I want her back too."

Burying his face into his hand, the Doctor shrugged miserably.

"I don't know what to do," he said. "Look at her, Gwen. Look what I did to her."

"Imagine what she would be like without you," said Gwen. "Being beaten up by Tom worse. Probably caught by Tom and Damien and tortured alongside all of us. Probably dead."

"I'm sorry," the Doctor said. "I never thought, I never checked you were okay. All the torture and the pain I forgot with Martha suffering so much… I'm sorry." This time it was Gwen's turn to shrug.

"I'm okay," she said. " But it wasn't nice."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"I know you are. Thank you."

!

Francine was sleeping in the room the TARDIS had helpfully moved next to Martha's. It had been five days since she's got more than an hours sleep so the Doctor was being as quiet as he could.

He had never left Martha's side, and Jack rarely did, since Francine had arrived. Often Gwen and Sarah and Ianto came in and talked to her. Sarah insisted on forcing food down his throat and looking after him, but Luke was yet to venture into the room. He had been surprised by the effect it had had on Ianto, he seemed to be shocked and moved around the time ship in a daze.

The Doctor rested his head on Martha's stomach and listened to her shallow breathing. Taking her hand and fondling it gently he began to sing to her again. He broke off halfway through, unable to continue.

"Please come back," he heaved. "Please, please, please, please, please, please come back." As usual, not response. He stifled a sob and began to beg with her. "Come on Martha you know you can wake up. I can take you anywhere, Martha Jones, anywhere at all. I can take you any year, month or day. Any planet, any solar system. We could visit Shakespeare again, he loved you. He loved everything about you. Your personality. Your face. Your hair. Your eyes. I'd love to see them again. I'd love to see you open them, for me. They're lovely, big and dark and intelligent. I want to hear you laugh again. It's been so long. I want you to hold my hand when you know I'm upset but I won't tell you. You're the only one who ever noticed that, you know. Over the years I've become quite accomplished at hiding my feelings. But you're one of those people, aren't you? You care. You notice stuff like that. I wish I'd noticed Tom was abusing you when I popped round your house for that cuppa. I was stupid. Oblivious. Sounds like me all over. Careless. Clumsy. Clumsy I let you go. All I had to do was ask you to come back, but I was too scared in case you said no. Now, when there was a chance of you coming with me again, I don't look after you well enough and look now. Stupid of me. I'm so scared, Martha. Why won't you wake up? I miss you. I'm talking to you and you won't answer. I don't even know if you can hear. What would it take for you to wake up, then? Anything, I'll make it possible. I need you back Jones. I can't live without you. I never could. Even if you leave me in disgust, I'd be happy. Well, maybe that's not true. But I'd be happier. I'd be ecstatic if you'd just jump up and hit me right across the face and storm out. Come on Martha, get mad at me."

"That's never going to happen."

The Doctor leaned forward, tears seeping from his eyes.

"Martha?" he whispered hoarsely. "Martha? Am I imagining?"

"I don't think so," she said. He turned on the light and laughed in delight, sweeping her into a hug, kissing her cheek again and again.

"Oh God," he muttered, holding her tightly to reassure himself. "Oh God, you're real. You're really real."

"Hey," she protested feebly. "That's my line you're nicking." But she still buried her face into his pinstriped jacket, sobbing in horror. He joined in, rocking her from side to side.

"I thought I'd lost you," he sniffed. "I can't believe you're all right."

"I always am. Doctor I feel… weird." He opened his mouth, speechless.

"Martha, I… I don't know what to say. I got so close to loosing you. I'm such a fool, a careless old fool."

"Don't," she said quietly. "Please, don't."

"Sorry."

"Doctor," she freed herself from the hug and gazed into his damp eyes seriously. "What happened to me?" He didn't know what to say. He was spared when the door of the room creaked open.

"Doctor?"

"Mum!" Martha squealed, seeing the figure framed in the doorway. "Mum!"

"Martha! Oh God, Martha."

"Mum!" Martha cried again, her eyes brimming with fresh tears. Francine ran over to the bed and launched herself at the Doctor.

"Oh God, you're back. You're really back."

"I wouldn't leave you, Mum."

"Martha," she said gravely. "Why didn't you tell me what was going on? Why did you stop emailing me?"

"She was in depression, Francine," said the Doctor. "Don't blame her for anything. I should have looked after her better."

"Doctor…" began Martha.

"I take the blame," he said, hushing her. "It was all my fault."

"Doctor, shut up the remorseful Time Lord act and let's try to keep the mood positive," snapped Francine. She turned back to Martha and cupped her face in her hands. "I'm so glad you're back."