A bittersweet interlude...
XXI
It took a moment for his words to sink in. Only, that moment seemed to stretch on forever.
During that time, Martha felt as though every one of her senses were experiencing some kind of cosmic boost. She experienced them all as though they were isolated and extremely acute, yet they were all layered on top of each other and blended together in perfect symmetry.
The night air, where there was a slight breeze, swept across her skin and caressed her hair, cooling the fine sheen of perspiration that made it cling to her forehead. Her lips felt tender from his passionate, desperate kisses. His weight on top of her was warm, and heavy, and exquisitely real. The ground beneath her molded to her naked flesh; tiny little pebble stones embedding themselves into her, dirt and damp grass clinging to her, twigs scratching her. The faintly pulsing, crooning, soulful sounds of the juke joint wafted on the night breeze to her ears, but they were nothing compared to the sound of The Doctor's breathing. Deep, soft, and slow. And his skin, hot and sticky, sliding across hers. His muscular chest pressed down on her breasts and the errant hairs of his happy trail (that ended in a soft curly triangle between his pecks) tickled and aroused her. His hands touched her still; one gripping her bottom and the other cradling her head by the crook of her neck, fingers laced in her hair. He was still inside her. Inside her, thick and palpably strong – and the exquisite sensation was only compounded when he moved slightly, filling her even spent as he was.
He was The Doctor. Every day Martha had marveled at him, all fire and power, energy, restlessness, wrath and mercy and genius. He could feel the turn of the Earth, command the stars and manipulate Time itself – yet here he was, lying on top of her. Gentle, sated, and at peace. Martha felt the oddest sliver of satisfaction in that knowledge.
And that's when his words finally reached her.
It seemed he had been waiting for her mind to catch up to the present. It had only been a moment; a breath; a pause, but he seemed to understand that time had moved much slower for her just then.
She blinked, staring into his eyes. He looked calm, almost relieved…as if a great burden had been lifted from his shoulders. Right now they were the familiar deep, dark, ancient eyes she was used to.
"What did you say…?" she whispered faintly.
When he replied, his voice was deep, serious. But it lulled her, aroused her.
"I said…I've always loved you."
It wasn't that Martha didn't believe him – but to hear him say such a thing completely contradicted what she'd experienced. She found herself flipping through memories rapidly in her head – of the first day they met to now – trying to pinpoint when she might've missed this "I've always loved you" part. He smiled faintly, obviously cottoning onto what she was doing.
She paused, feeling so…completely taken with him…but part of her held back. Part of her feared…
"Is this…because of the werewolf?"
"No." He answered without hesitation, his voice still deep and husky. His eyes remained normal, not shining. "I am in control right now."
He gripped her tighter, causing her to bite her lip as he shifted his weight on top of her. She could feel him beginning to harden again, and his eyes slipped down to her lips.
"I am so…so in control…" his mouth parted, his breath caressing her face, and he sat up with her.
Martha gasped softly as she felt how his length stroked her deep inside with the movement.
He began to kiss her, gently, slowly, across her face and on her neck, and as he did he held her tightly to him and made love to her a second time. This time it was much sweeter and not so full of carnal lust, but she came harder than before – a hot rush of pleasure flooded through her and she cried out, clinging to him desperately.
The Doctor groaned deeply and bit down on her neck – Martha felt her heart flutter – but he only kneaded the flesh there as he came, too.
Then he threw his head back and pulled in big gulps of air. He grit his teeth, breathing hard. Martha felt fascinated (not for the first time) as she watched him. When he finally looked down at her, his eyes were gleaming again, but he grinned. "Martha, Martha, Martha Jones…" he growled.
The wild look in his eyes frightened her a tiny bit, but she admitted to herself that she loved hearing him say her name that way. "You've got some explaining to do, mister."
"Oh, yes!" he said, and he sounded more like himself then.
In one swift, lithe movement, he stood up with her, gripping her to him effortlessly as if she weighed no more than a stone. She couldn't help a tiny yelp of surprise, but she felt her heart swoop with delight as he eased himself out of her and kissed her vigorously once – twice – three times on her sore lips.
"But right now, I want to try something."
Martha decided to just go with the strangeness of this whole scenario. She simply clung to him as she bent with her (holding her steady with one strong arm; her legs wrapped securely round his waist) and gathered up his clothing and her knickers. He slipped his pants on, hoisting her up with that one arm, before finally scooping up his sonic and sticking it in his pocket.
Then he turned and began to carry her away. "Where are we going?"
"Wellll, I don't know about you, Martha, but I fancy a swim right about now."
She laughed. "A swim? In the creek? You're joking!"
"Quite serious."
And The Doctor – this new, wild, half naked, frightening and simultaneously intoxicating Doctor – carried Martha through the trees towards the edge of the forest where the creek waters rushed lazily along. Martha marveled at how the night had progressed. She'd gone from being knackered and frustrated to wanton and sloshed to scared out of her wits to stunned – now she felt thrilled, sexy, and just a bit mad.
Just the swiftness with which he switched from Normal Doctor to Wild Doctor made her dizzy, but she was determined to keep up. She was beside herself wanting to ask him a thousand questions, starting with "did you mean what you said?"
Luckily, as he walked, he talked.
"Where should I begin?" As if he'd only just thought of it, he tugged at her dress, so that it loosed from being bunched up above her bare breasts and fell to cover her more (she was grateful).
"How about starting with 'I've always loved you, Martha Jones'?" she suggested slyly.
"Oh, alright, if I must." He did a mischievous face and winked at her, squeezing her naked bum enough to arouse a hot swell of desire between her legs. Then his expression sobered. "I hid that well, did I?"
"Yeah you did." Martha lost her smile, letting her honest feelings show on her face. It was very dark, but she knew he could see her expression clearly. A soft, low-hanging branch disturbed her hair as they passed it by. " 'Not that you're replacing her'… 'You're just a novice, I'll take you home in the morning'…" Martha repeated these things to him, wincing at the memory of how much they stung at the time. " 'One trip, that's all you get'… 'I'd rather be on my own, anyway'…and then…"
She stopped herself.
"No, go on…" he urged solemnly, not looking at her but glaring darkly at the forest ahead as he carried her.
Martha sighed, preferring not to linger on these thoughts, suddenly not wishing to reveal how much he'd hurt her before. Wanting desperately to remain in the fairytale moment when he said that he'd always loved her. Thinking about these things now made the rational person in her doubt such a confession. It stung; she couldn't deny that. As wonderful as this revelation (and their lovemaking) had been, sober reality could still slap her out of it at any moment. That was the way things went, traveling with The Doctor. If you weren't careful, the fantasy of it all – the new worlds and strange beings and fascinating stories and adventures waiting to be had – would sweep you up and carry you off, only to leave you crashing back down to Earth once you encountered the terrible death and danger behind the veil of magnificence.
"I know it wasn't your fault. You weren't there, you weren't yourself. But…watching John Smith fall in love with Nurse Redfern…"
He was silent for a long while, seemingly concentrating on maneuvering through the foliage, hoisting her more securely along with their things. Then he came to a stop and sought out her eyes with his. Martha finally allowed herself to look him fully in the face again.
"Can you ever forgive me for that?" he whispered.
She considered him for a moment. Her heart swelled. Fresh tears sprouted in her eyes, but she didn't start crying; only allowed those to fall and nothing more. She shrugged. "Of course I forgive you. I'm in love with you, Doctor. D'you think I could go through that if I wasn't?"
A proud smile broke across his face. "Oh, Martha Jones I think you can do anything you put your clever mind to. That's why the moment I met you, that first day…" he paused.
"What?"
When he spoke next, he managed to keep the raw emotion she saw threatening to break through at bay. But his voice was coated with it; husky in a different way than earlier.
"When I lost Rose, I was very angry, Martha. I was…reckless. Merciless. Empty." He swallowed. "Then a friend, she told me that I needed someone. Turns out, that someone is you."
Martha searched his face for the truth; his large, deep brown eyes were earnest.
"At first it was just, you know, a bit of fun – a distraction. Someone new, someone eager, someone I could pretend with, show off to…it felt good. And then you started to catch on, of course. That's when I knew you'd be brilliant. And you so are. And I can't help myself…every day, you amaze me Martha Jones. Your passion, your bravery, your humanity. I thought no one would ever make me feel this way after Rose, and I-"
He stopped himself, seemed to think better of it, and smiled again.
"I was afraid."
Martha frowned. "Afraid? You? Of what?"
"You live long enough, Martha, and after a while the only certainly left is that you'll end up alone." He repeated something he had said to Richard Lazarus in Suffolk Cathedral one strange and horrible night. "And I've lived…" he shook his head, "…a long time. Sometimes I think I've lived too long and lost too much. I was afraid, even with Rose, to get too near, too close. Afraid to let anyone in. Afraid of letting myself fall…"
The Doctor looked at her lips. Martha didn't think she'd ever get tired of seeing the desire in his eyes. He leaned in and kissed her gently. As he did, he dropped his shirt, jacket, and tie to the ground, along with her knickers. Martha didn't pay attention to his movements (his tongue encircled hers with such stirring sensuality that she nearly whimpered) as he undid he trousers let them fall as well. It wasn't until he jumped that she tore her eyes open and gasped.
They were soaring!
Straight up into the air, high above the trees, and she could see the steadily flowing creek beneath them. They began to descend. Martha felt a delightful dip in her stomach as they came down and she screamed with glee (and a tinge of fear). Into the water, and The Doctor let her go as it swirled around her. She floated back up to the surface.
Martha emerged gasping and took in the warm night air, brushing her wet hair off of her face. She looked around and saw The Doctor break through the surface a short distance away, grinning from ear to ear, his normally spiky hair wet and falling in his eyes.
"Whoa, Nelly!" she exclaimed.
"Being a werewolf has its perks, eh?"
"You could say that again!"
The Doctor laughed.
"Oh no, but Lucille's dress is ruined!" Martha moaned, wiping the water from her face again, returning his wide smile.
His grin turned puckish; this was the most carefree she'd seen him in days. "Ohhh it'll be fine! We'll take it to Eurillion – it's the dry cleaning capitol of Caprica, you know. They can make anything shine good as new; better than new; like spun gold."
"There's a dry cleaning capitol?" Martha raised her eyebrows.
"Of course!" He began to swim easily towards her, his long body cutting through the water almost noiselessly. "There's also a bowling capitol, a cat capitol, a dinner salad capitol, a crossword capitol, a chocolate milkshake capitol, a custard capitol…you name it, it's there, all scattered across this great big, brilliant universe."
Martha laughed and shook her head, wading closer to him. "Dinner salad…you're making it up."
"Am not! Best cherry tomatoes in the galaxy. You'll see. I'll take you." And he looked down at her tenderly, kissing her again. He looked delighted; at ease; curious. He kissed her yet again, and again – like a teenager with his first bird. "I'll take you wherever you want to go…anywhere, everywhere! Name it, Martha Jones; the universe is yours."
"Ooh, how romantic!" Martha pretended to swoon. "Be still my beating heart!"
He realized she was having a go at him and he sloshed water at her. Martha yelped and tried to push his head under, but of course it was no use – he picked her up and took her with him. Her scream was cut off as she found herself submerged, and when they broke through again he pulled her close and wiped the water from her face gently.
"Isn't this what you want?" He breathed, his face very close. He searched her eyes. "Isn't that what's supposed to happen now? Love and adventure, hand in hand, through time, across the stars…with me?"
Martha sighed. She understood now, why he was saying these things. She understood what he was trying to convey to her. "It isn't that simple, is it?"
The Doctor was silent, staring at her meaningfully.
He didn't have to answer. She saw it in his eyes. She wasn't so naive to believe that, since he finally confessed himself, that they would skip off into the sunset happily ever after. With The Doctor, things could never be that simple. And, even though she wouldn't change what happened tonight for the world, she also understood why he tried to avoid their coming together. Why he talked so much sometimes without ever really saying anything. Why he chose to let her go on feeling rejected rather than give in to how he felt about her. Why speaking about Rose (about all of it, really: his past and life before the destruction of Gallifrey included) was so very difficult for him. Why it was so bloody hard to get close to him; to get him to admit anything; reveal anything; share anything.
These last few months (and indeed, however long Martha would be with him after this) were a mere blip in all the years he had existed. A pause; a breath; a moment too brief to be fair. She would be gone too, one day. And he would carry on. She could be happy with him for the rest of her life – but in the end, only he would be left. He was always the only one standing. The Doctor and his enemies. Forever.
Martha suddenly felt such immense sadness at this realization that she almost didn't want The Doctor to love her. It seemed like more of a burden for him than a blessing.
"Martha…" he whispered, bringing her out of her thoughts. She looked into his eyes, and they gleamed silvery white. "If I could…pause, here, and freeze this moment in time…in an infinite loop where there's nothing but the night and you and me here forever…I would."
"No, you wouldn't. And I wouldn't want you to."
He looked at her, and something in his eyes bloomed – something erupted. As though he never expected her to say such a thing. To have such a selfless thought. And Martha instinctually knew that this release in his eyes was his last shred of doubt that he was in love with her. Maybe she did know him as well as he said she did, after all.
"Now we've got work to do."
"That we do." Pride shined in his silver eyes now.
Martha took a deep breath and wiped her face, where she just realized tears were falling. "Right, then."
"Okay?" he asked softly.
"Yeah."
He swallowed and nodded solemnly. He allowed them one last kiss before their brief, amorous interlude was over.
As they waded back towards the creek bank, Martha wondered when – if ever – things would be like this again. It seemed almost surreal now, as they dressed in silence and The Doctor took her hand to lead her back towards the juke joint. They kept taking sideways glances at each other, perhaps to savor every single detail of each other as they were now, both knowing that with each step towards the sound of blues music wafting on the thick night air, they were leaving behind the bare beginnings of some great love affair. It was a luxury they could not afford now.
The two happy, normal people swimming in a creek, laughing and in love, were being pushed aside and replaced by a time traveler and his companion who had a job to be getting on with.
After all, the moon wasn't so covered in shadow as they liked to tell themselves. Time was their enemy now; it moved on mercilessly. They had to follow, to catch up with the approaching full moon before it was too late.
The Doctor's eyes were still full of silver menace; even when they were his normal brown, they were still wild and frightening. He could still lose control any moment. The lupine infection was still oscillating away in his blood, along with the blood of those thirty innocent people at the county hospital. The Haemovariform were still whispering and slithering around in his mind, looking for weaknesses, trying to find a way to break him.
And they were still no closer to producing an antidote than they were twelve days ago.
Yes, she thought as they found their way, wet and holding hands, towards the light and music, being with The Doctor was lovely, but now its time to make sure that you can all get out of this alive.
It was better to lock her heart away for now, and preserve those passionate moments in his arms perfectly in her mind so that she could focus on the difficult task ahead. And that's exactly what she did. Because there was no telling when – or if – they would ever have anything like tonight again.