Thank you for all of my reviewers, seriously you guys are awesome and this thing has more alerts than any of my other stories. thank You for that
He could barely open the door. She laughed when he tried to snap; his fingers and it would not open for him. He fixed her with an exasperated glare and fumbled for his key.
The door opened for her when she placed her hand on the door.
He called her a show off, grabbed her around the waist and lifted her off of her feet.
He stumbled over the entrance into the TARDIS; she nearly fell out of his grasp.
She laughed when he fell and they both landed sprawled onto the floor of the console room. Her first instinct was to grab his wrist and pull him closer to her. But she kissed him instead.
He responded, soft at first, but her kisses insisted that they be answered with immediate payment. He responded to her, with hands, and lips and sounds. He rolled her over so that he was above her, cheeks flushed, hands deliberate.
He exalted her face, and neck, and head with attention, his hands found purpose upon her skin. She, in turn became deliberate in her acquaintance of a body she never knew, a mind she revered and desired. He was everything to her once and now again.
The same, but different.
"There is a dragon watching us." He mock whispered between battering her lips with his and moving himself away from her, painful distance in every inch.
Martha giggled but turned to look at Gleep, he was perched on top of the console staring at the two of them. She said nothing to the dragon, and he made no noise, but after a moment he flew high atop the console room, nestled himself at the top of the stairs and tucked his head under his wings.
"How did you do that?" The Doctor asked in a growl.
"Does it matter?" Martha placed her arms back around his shoulders, drawing him back to her lips.
He was already in a state of complete arousal, and Martha could feel the proof of that on her thigh. "Sod it," he groaned as her hand began to tenderly rub against his arousal.
He moved his hands to her shirt, loving the feel of her warm flesh against his cool hands. Martha let out a small sigh at the initial contact. His fingers deftly sifted underneath her shirt, the satin smooth skin gave under his deft touch.
In the interest of fairness, Martha slid her hands under his shirt. It took her over two minutes to even gain access. In the funny way that thoughts creep into one's head in the oddest of times, she wondered what his need was for hiding under so much clothing. Even in his other self, he was always so overdressed.
Her hands finally found purchase, sliding over his surprisingly soft skin. He shuddered as her fingers traced fretted patterns against his back.
And just when she had found an oddly responsive spot between his shoulder blades, the Doctor grabbed her left nipple between his two fingers and pulled.
"Maybe," Martha thrummed between pants." Maybe this is not the best place to have this particular conversation."
The Doctor continued his fevered rant of her, he inhaled every scent, every touch molded into his long term memory. "Mmmmmm,"
"Doctor," she whispered into his ear and moved her tongue around the lobe. "We should go into my room."
"Or mine," he mumbled, still fondling her nipples with an ardor.
"We should go," she spoke
"MMMHmm," he moved his lips from her mouth to her now exposed nipples.
Martha gave up any thought after that. Stars rushed behind her eyes as his tongue and teeth made her brown areolas turn into to taut little pecans.
Her hands flew to his silky head as he formed a gentle but urgent rhythm to his movements.
The sound of the TARDIS door opening was lost on the two lovers as they continued their plunder of each other's' bodies. The figure stood in the doorway, holding his own love in his arms. "Doctor,"
The Doctor raised his head at the sound of his own name. "This better be really important, Pond. I mean end of the world important. There had better be a Dalek behind you, three Cyberman descending from the roof tops, and an army of weeping angels. In fact there had better-"
"It's Amy, her waters have broken."
"It's so early." He fretted pacing back and forth in the infirmary.
"You are making it worse Rory, just sit down." Amy raised herself up and patted the bed next to her. "Come and keep me company. I imagine it's going to be so painful soon I won't even want you near me."
"It's the first baby, and even though it's a month early, if you are going to go into pre-term labor, this is the best place for it, yeah?" Martha smiled at the young couple.
"What could have caused it?" Amy asked, still rubbing Rory's shoulder, more for strength than to reassure him.
"Could have been anything." Martha smiled reassuringly. "Could have been the different air pressure or gravitational pull here.
Martha patted Amy on the ankle and left the two to wait out the long early hours. She walked through the corridors to find the Doctor in the console room, pacing and wringing his hands. "How is she?"
Martha came to his side and placed her arm around his waist. "She is going to be fine Doctor. Stop feeling so bad about all of this. We have done nothing wrong, you have done nothing wrong."
"I know that, it's just. We were so into what we were doing, what we were feeling, that I forgot about what was really important." He moved away from her and began pacing again.
"No, we didn't" Martha shoved her hands into her white coat and shrugged. "Anyway, Amy and the baby, they are doing fine. Labor is progressing beautifully; I really don't see any complications."
The Doctor nodded, but the pacing and hand wringing continued.
"I think she would like you to go see her."
"Of course she would, why wouldn't she?" He turned to her and his entire face wore the mask of a man just figuring it out. "Oh, that was a suggestion, wasn't it?"
Martha nodded, but moved out of the way as the Doctor barreled for the corridor to the infirmary.
"Well," he announced in an overly jovial tone, the doctor rubbed his hands together and smiled at the two on the bed. "Looks like its D Day, the troops are poised and ready to land.' He grinned manically.
Amy patted her middle and smiled. "Yup, and I am quite sure it's going to be a victory."
The Doctor whipped out his sonic and waved it over his companion. "Yes, well looks like things are progressing as they should." He seemed loathe getting closer than the side of Amy's bed. His actions spoke of a man afraid of whatever event was about to take place.
"Doctor," Rory asked, grasping his wife's hand "Are you sure, I mean would that thing tell you if anything is wrong? I mean she is a month early."
The Doctor whacked Rory on the back, laughed and shook his head. "A month early, that's a good one Rory. "
Martha frowned, "But, she is a month early. I mean it's no big deal, the baby is healthy, but she is a full month early."
"Martha," the Doctor shook his head at her. "Are you sure?"
Martha took out Amy's file herself and the two put their heads together. "It's not a month early." The Doctor insisted, hand behind his head.
"Isn't it possible you are wrong," Martha asked.
"It's more possible that you are wrong." He fired back. "And really, when have you known me to be wrong?"
Three pairs of human eyes and one pair of dragon eyes stared back at him in disbelief. "When it counts?" he amended.
But the stare continued.
"Oh all right. Martha the thing is, did you calculate the right gestation given the difference in both gravitational pull and time variance."
"Time variance?" she sniffed.
The Doctor sighed, but launched into his usual 'I am going to educate you.' Routine. "The days here are 44 hours long.
"Of course I accounted for that, otherwise I would have her listed as 24 weeks, not thirty six."
"Don't get so tetchy Martha; I am only trying to explain."
"You are trying to laud your superior mind over mine." She hissed.
"OH, here we go," Rory muttered.
"Can we please focus?" Amy shouted. "Am I early or not?"
"No," the Doctor insisted,.
"Yes," Martha uttered at the same time with just as much insistence.
"Does it really matter?" Amy asked.
"NO," they both shouted.
"Then why are the two of you fighting over it?" Amy pushed.
"Because we interrupted them in the middle of something." Rory mocked whispered.
"Interrupted them in the middle of something? Interrupted them in the middle of what" she fired at her husband, "What the hell could they have been.—oh!" Amy's face broke into a frown. "Isn't it bad enough I am in labor? You trying to make me puke too?" she smacked Rory on the shoulder.
"Ow! And anyway it's not my fault those two can't stop fighting, if they would just go somewhere and shag this would all be over."
"Shut up Rory!" Martha and the Doctor answered.
"Oh so now I am the bad guy, you two are fighting while my wife is in labor? Can we have just a reality check to get this whole thing on the go? I would really like my son to be welcomed into a peaceful environment, not one full of hormonally charged adults who cannot seem to stop going at each other, in every way, apparently."
The Doctor and Martha had the good sense to look sufficiently repentant as Martha again checked Amy's progression. "Sorry, Amy." Martha smiled at the younger woman. "I guess that whole thing got a little carried away."
"Kinda like in the console room apparently." Rory added with a smirk.
"Ugh, hi?" Amy waved from her spot. "Pregnant woman over here who would like not only a little peace and quiet, but some good drugs too, because I think this thing sis really happening right now."
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Anyone who tells you labor is fast, and clean, and only takes a few grunts then suddenly results in a miraculous experience that only lasted an hour, well they lied.
Labor is long, and messy, and ardent, and tiring.
Amy was a valiant warrior, she accepted the pain without a single complaint, and the usually brash and angry woman displayed all the toughness of an over cooked steak. She pushed when she was supposed to, and blew at the right times.
Course the 42nd century epidural didn't hurt either.
At one point Martha and Rory forced the doctor into the library, at a crucial moment of the delivery, he offered Martha a catcher's mitt.
"I am not using that thing to catch the baby in." Martha insisted.
"But it once belonged to Carlton Fisk, "
"Who the hell is Carlton Fisk?" Rory nearly yelled.
"Catcher for the Chicago White Sox, oh come on, you mean to tell me none of you like baseball?" he huffed.
"Get Out" Martha spoke.
"Honestly! This was a gift from Pudge after the longest baseball game in history. 25 innings that one was, 8 hours and 6 minutes long."
"Get out."
"No, really, it was quite a game. Two days they had to play that thing over. Tom Seaver pitched both days, and the Sox ended up winning. I told them that this was the longest sporting event that I had ever been to, well except for that swimsuit and oil thing on—"
"GET OUT!" Amy howled
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
25 hours into the entire ordeal, and Rory and Amy Williams were delivered of a beautiful baby boy. 9 pounds, 2 ounces.
He fed at his mother's breast for two whole hours before finally falling asleep. Amy gratefully handed over his care while she got much needed rest.
"He is beautiful Rory," Martha nodded at the little ginger baby.
"A red head," he smirked. "I'll get no peace at home now."
Martha nodded and sat next to him in the soft chair. "Well, it's all right; it will be a good tired."
They sat watching the baby sleep. Rory wore a seemingly permanently etched expression of pure and utter joy. And for a moment, Martha could not help but feel the slightest of jealousy. She knew she would never have this, not with the man she loved. They were possibly incompatible biologically, even in the best of circumstances. Pair that with the facts and it was a recipe for heart ache.
Rory set off for the house to grab a few things, and Martha was on for the two hour feeding.
It was where the Doctor found her after his forced exile. "He alright?" he asked watching her hold the tiny infant.
"He is wonderful. Mum is doing well too. Way to get yourself kicked out of here. I was wondering how you would pull it off."
"Not really my thing Martha, all that grunting and fluids and lady parts pulsing…"
"Makes me wonder if we will ever make love," she smirked.
He huffed but sat down beside her and offered his hands out in the universal 'hold the baby' gesture.
Martha placed him carefully in his hands and patted his shoulder. "That looks good on you." She smiled.
"Well, I should say I have had enough practice," he smiled
"How much practice?" she asked.
"Oh, you know, had my own children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, great-great—"
"I get it," Martha held up her hand
They sat in an odd silence, with the Doctor holding the baby and Martha watching the scene like a bride at a gown sale.
"We will never have this you know." He spoke quietly, whether to not disturb the sleeping baby, or to deliver the weight of the information.
"I know." Martha nodded.
"You know, but I wonder if you really understand the seriousness of it. I really would love this Martha, do not get me wrong, but this is something that will never be for us. I can never give you this. In the tine you have to live, and experience life. I can never give you this. "
She could hear his voice growing thick with sorrow. He seemed transfixed but the little ginger child in his arms. "Doctor, its ok."
"Is it? Because I wonder at the fairness of the whole thing." He placed the baby back into the bassinet, gingerly tucking him in securely. "I don't know if you fully understand that if you stay with me, we will never have this."
"If?" she fired, a little loudly. "Oh here comes the self-righteous I know what is best for you portion of our evening ladies and gentlemen."
"I just wonder, if it is fair to drag you into the same curse that I carry." He whispered.
"Oh I am already there." She whispered back, "Even if I had children, I would outlive them all, wouldn't i? I mean do you really think that I would want to watch my children die, over, and over again?"
The Doctor seemed to deflate at that argument. "You don't know that for sure." He offered.
"Don't i?" she steamed. "Trust me, being with you is what I want, "
"But will that change at some point Martha? Are you going to wake up one day a hundred years, or two hundred years from now and decide that this is no longer what you want? That because of me you have missed out on being a mother and all that it entails."
"Are you nuts?" she asked
But the Doctor shook his head. "Maybe it was a good thing we did not get carried away earlier."