My friends, I think there are only one or two chapters left after this! I like to warn folks when things start to wind down, just in case you can't feel it...
21
Martha stayed out of the lab that day, upon the Doctor's request.
She was frustrated by this, and disappointed, plus, she was exhausted from the last two days'/nights' activities. But, she had been the one to invoke the pact that he could have her whenever he felt like it. And frankly, she wasn't hating it - the sex, or the attention. So, after dinner, dishes were left on the table, and clothes were left in a trail between the bedroom door and the foot of the bed. The footboard was used creatively before either one of them ever touched the beadspread or mattress. Though they did use the mattress plenty, and each other's pliability and willingness.
And at a key moment toward the end of this particular adventure, the Doctor let something slip though his lips. Martha heard it, but in that precise moment, she was in no shape to address it. She simply let herself wind up and release, and then, like a scab over raw emotions, her mind began to pick at it.
"You're just... Martha, you're amazing." Once again, they lay side-by-side, in a daze.
Actually, the Doctor was in a daze. Martha was completely, disastrously lucid.
She didn't respond to his comment. Not even with a sigh or a smile or an exhale.
"Something bothering you?" he asked.
"Damn it, Doctor," she spat, sitting up, climbing abruptly out of bed. She crossed the room in a hurry, gathering up her clothes.
He sat up now too. "What? What's wrong?"
She pulled on her pants and bra as though they were the last fur coats left in the Arctic. "Do you even know what you said?" she asked. "Or were you too far gone?"
"What I said?"
"Yes, what you said!" she exclaimed, pulling her tee-shirt over her head. "Toward the end, when you were..."
His eyes went huge with surprise and dread. "Oh God, what did I say?"
She planted her hands, still grasping her jeans, firmly on her hips, and stared at him in utter, unadulterated exasperation. She couldn't work out whether he was being remarkably obtuse, or if she, in the throes of ecstasy, really had been enough to render the universe's strongest mind not unconscious, but unaware of what was coming out of his own mouth.
"What?" he asked again, his voice rising in pitch. "Was it that filthy?"
"No! It's not that!"
"Well, it couldn't have been someone else's name!" he protested. "Could it?"
"No!"
"Then, what?"
She let out another frustrated exhale, and turned her back. "You know what? If you don't know, maybe it's best to just leave it alone."
"No, it's not best. Tell me."
She turned ninety degrees, so she was looking at him sideways. She crossed her arms over her chest, jeans draped over one of her forearms. "You said you love me."
"Oh," the Doctor said, retreating immediately from his on-alert, bolt-upright position in bed. "That."
"Yeah! That!"
"I hadn't meant for that to slip out."
"You hadn't meant for it to slip out?" Martha shouted.
"Not this soon."
"Doctor! It shouldn't be... it's not even... oh, my God, Doctor, I can't even tell you..." She had dropped her jeans on the floor and her arms were pulling at the air, as if she were looking for leverage.
"Why is it making you so upset?" he asked.
"Because!" she squeaked. "It's a violation of our pact!"
"It is?"
"Yes! You agreed that we needed to acknoledge that I have these feelings for you, but you feel platonic toward me. I said I didn't want us to live a lie, and you said you were okay with that!"
"I am okay with that. I don't want to live a lie."
"But you don't love me! Don't be daft!"
"I don't?"
"No! You're addicted. You're addicted to the sex, the intoxication and possibly even to the idea of where it all comes from, that power you have over me."
"Well now, that's just insulting," he muttered, pouting.
"Doctor, can't you see what's happening?"
"Yes! I can!" he growled, rolling to the side of the bed and, as she had, standing up abruptly. He found his pants nearby and stepped into them before continuing. "I know how this goes, Martha. I fix myself, my DNA, and the hunger stops. The drunken effect you have on me will cease to be. And even though I know that, I think of being with you, without the drug, and I still want it! I still want to be with you."
"You can't know that, Doctor," she pleaded. "You have never been with me without it putting you into a stupor. That's like saying, I'd still want to smoke the cigarette even if the nicotine wasn't there! What the hell kind of sense does that make? What would be the point?"
"Seriously? That's your comparison?"
"The point is, no-one knows what the benefit of smoking a cigarette without the nicotine could be, because the nicotine is so addictive! It overpowers the experience and makes the smoker a slave."
"That's ridiculous."
"Exactly."
He paused and stared at her for a few moments. He was eerily still. "You're convinced you're right?"
She sighed. "Doctor, I'm really sorry, but you're not totally capable of thinking clearly right now."
"I'm not?"
"This is a role-play to you," she continued. "It's almost like we're playing house, only it's the X-rated version. We have this 'relationship' that's mutually satisfying. The satisfaction it gives me gives you satisfaction. Only we're not addressing the fact that this whole thing is totally lopsided, so instead of talking about it, you're overcompensating!"
"You seem to have it all sorted." Although he felt that her argument was quite flimsy. He wasn't sure why she needed an argument in the first place.
"Doctor, I have lived with you for months now. I love you and I know you. I know where your heart lies, it and it's not with me."
"All right, then," he conceded. He sat down on the edge of the bed. "Where do we go from here?"
"I think we're done," she told him.
"Done? Completely?"
"Well, I'll still travel with you and be your friend, but no more sex."
"That won't work."
"Why not?"
"Because, there is no way we can go back to being friends now. Not after all this. And... oh, Martha, this is the worst timing ever."
"I don't know what you mean by that. But this... it's too hard, Doctor. It hurts too much."
"So, let me get this straight," he said flatly, staring at the floor between his feet. "You fall in love with me, and spend months wishing I would notice, so we could give it a go. When I do notice, and we do give it a go, I fall in love with you... and that is what hurts too much?"
"It's not that simple, because it's not just us, giving it a go. There are factors that colour the whole damn thing, and you cannot trust your feelings right now, Doctor. And as long as you don't know where you stand, it is too painful to be that close to you. Every fibre of my being wants to cling, and if I'm constantly wondering if I'll have to dislodge myself soon... it's too much. Too much."
"I do know where I stand."
"I'm afraid you don't, love."
"I'm not an idiot, Martha."
"No, but you might be an emotional idiot at the moment. That's totally different, and totally not your fault. It might even by partly my fault. But, it's fixable."
He responded bitterly, "Well, since you seem to know and feel exactly what's in my mind and in my hearts, then you must also have a solution. What do you propose?"
"Go back to Earth. Meet someone."
"More of that, eh?"
"Well, not necessarily. I think, ideally, you'd find someone you could stay with for a while."
"What, like a girlfriend? Nice and stable, and all that?" he asked her, his face crinkled with distaste.
"Yes," she told him. "Level-headed women who just want someone to share a few laughs with for a little while - they're out there."
"And how do you fit in, as you see it?"
"I'm your companion. I'll help you troubleshoot, like I always do."
"Do we continue to travel?"
She thought about it for a moment, and answered, "Well, I would think that we'd have to remain stationary for a bit, so you can maintain a relationship."
"I see. And what would happen if I should decide I want to keep this person around for longer than that?"
"Maybe we should take it as a sign that our time together has run its course."
"Again, you seem to have this all sorted."
"I'm improvising, obviously. I'm just thinking about keeping you happy without crushing anyone, including me."
"What about me? Do you care if I get crushed?" he asked, meekly.
"Of course."
"Well, this conversation is pretty heavy."
"I'm sorry, Doctor," she said, tears spilling over her cheeks. She wiped at the tears as she bent to put on her jeans, and then pick up her shoes. "I'm sorry."
Then she exited the room without looking back. A few moments later, the Doctor heard dishes clanging together down the hall, as she began to clean up their delicious meal.