Note: Oh, I do love my little notes (like anyone else even cares xD). This was a beast to write, but it just came to me one night at work and I knew I had to write it out. This is actually the happiest story I've written in a long time, Doctor Who or not. Which probably says something about me, but anyway! The title actually does mean something, which is revealed in the story itself. Please enjoy!
Martha Jones was depressed. Seriously, cripplingly, tragically depressed. One person could only take so much punishment and emotional devastation before they found their breaking point. She was amused to find hers later than she would have originally thought, but simultaneously annoyed that she had found it in the first place. She'd been traveling with the Doctor for nigh on eight months now and she'd finally had enough. Every second she was with him and yet unable to voice her not-so-secret confession of love for him was torture. And her mind had turned traitor as well.
It had started with dreams and waking-dreams of her and the Doctor together in a variety of scenarios, all involving shared emotions and welcome caresses. When she would snap back to reality she was reminded exactly who she was daydreaming about: Captain Asexual in the flesh. She had been able to avoid most of the inevitable awkwardness on her part by whatever was trying to kill them next, but that only lasted for so long. Anytime there was a lull in their travels, anytime she was allowed to think for more than three seconds she would think of him and the pathetic situation she had allowed herself to get pulled into. She'd gone through stages of frustration, false acceptance, anger, sorrow, self-pity, and hopefulness.
Now she was just plain depressed. She could barely stand to share the same space with him, yet to even consider being apart from him was even worse. Nothing seemed to register with her anymore, not even when their lives were in danger. The TARDIS had decided she wanted a break from the excitement, so they were now floating (for lack of a better term) through time and space with no particular destination in mind. The Doctor was starting to get antsy, but the TARDIS would make angry noises whenever he tried to go near the controls. Rather than risk his ship getting mad at him, he left her alone and tried to find something to occupy his time…and mind…and hands; searching for something to tinker with seemed to be half the battle. Martha had noticed his discomfort at being stuck in one place for too long with nothing to do, nothing to fix and fiddle with, but she really didn't know what to do for him. She tried to avoid him whenever possible, averting her eyes from his whenever they had to be in the same room.
He'd definitely seen how she'd changed recently, but he just chalked it up to female problems (like he really had any idea what that meant anyway). Each morning, Martha would come into the kitchen, grab a coffee, say a quick, "m'rnin'", and then head out the same way she came. He was starting to get a bit worried about her when that behavior pattern entered its second week. But now she didn't even mumble any kind of greeting; it was more like a grunt than anything intelligible. He tried his best to ignore it, thinking it was those pesky "women's problems" he'd heard mentioned a few times on Earth, and from what he gathered he really didn't care to have them explained any further than that.
Even now he was roaming around the TARDIS, looking for something (ANYTHING) to hold his interest for longer than five seconds. Even the desire to read had fled him at this point. He simply walked around the ship through its innumerable rooms and environments, hands shoved deep in his pockets, trying to keep himself from doing anything that might agitate his home. He was getting a bit resentful that it seemed to have turned on him all of the sudden. She let Martha get away with anything while he felt like he was being scrutinized at every turn; the more childish part of him whined that that wasn't fair. He'd known his ship far longer than Martha, yet his newest companion seemed to have replaced him in the TARDIS's favor.
Thinking of Martha, he decided to go in search of her, see if she wanted any company. No sooner had he thought her name than he heard the faint strains of music somewhere up ahead. Curious, he followed the sound until he came into one of the entertainment rooms. A flat-screen television was positioned facing the door, a plush couch sitting in front of it. On the screen, an attractive woman in a white sari was kneeling before a large gate, her expression one of pure anguish. A few more seconds of dramatic music and the screen went dark, the credits rolling shortly behind. A muffled sniffle came from the couch. The Doctor had found Martha.
Without any kind of warning or preamble he strolled into the room and let himself fall forward over the back of the couch with a groan: "Soooo booooorreddd". His head hit what must have been Martha's leg in the process. He'd startled her so badly she looked ready to jump up and cling to the ceiling. He couldn't help himself; he let out a boisterous laugh at her reaction. "Sorry, Martha," he chuckled, standing upright again after a moment or two. "Thought you heard me come in!"
She didn't find it funny at all. She quickly turned her face away from the Doctor, mostly to wipe her cheeks free of the tears that had been falling heavily just moments before. She'd picked that particular movie and this particular room to allow herself a good cry…without an irritating, brilliant, achingly unattainable Doctor to interrupt. Apparently she'd picked wrong. "Martha?" His voice behind her was coated with concern. God, that alone made her fall for him even more. "You alright?" She still didn't trust herself to speak yet. "Yooooo-hoooo, Maaaarrthhhaaa?"
"Yeah!" She turned suddenly, forcing her tone to be cheerful and light. She smiled her best at him as he took a step back, obviously unsure of what had come over her. She tried to not let that step bother her. "Yes, I'm fine, Doctor." She looked back to the now blank screen. "Just….watching a movie. It was really sad."
He made a face at her. "Then why'd you watch it?" He started around to the TV and began rifling through the various DVDs and mini DVRs strewn about the place. Every now and then he would pause in his search for God-knew-what and give her a thoughtful look, one that said he was waiting for an answer.
Martha had to take a moment to come up with a reasonable story; there was simply no way in hell she was going to tell him the truth. "Well, uh, I just felt like watching it and having a good cry, is all." She winced. That was just more ammunition for him to use.
His wide eyes looked from her to the DVDs and back several times. "Why would you even want to cry at all?"
"Just…sometimes we humans enjoy a good cry. That's all."
"Well, that's just silly," he commented.
She only gave a little huff of a chuckle. "Well, it's true." And it was. "Plus, I really like this movie anyway. It's beautiful." The last word came out a bit wistfully. It was a visually beautiful film, yes, but she was speaking more of the concept of two people so desperately in love with each other, yet one misunderstanding kept them apart for years and eventually led to each others' downfall. She'd first come across it in an old rental store when she was still in high school. The cover alone was enough to grab her interest, so she'd rented it on a whim. She'd loved it so much she went out and bought her own copy the next day. Thank God there was a big enough Indian population in London to have a shop not far from her flat that carried the movie.
Martha felt the Doctor's eyes on her again, as if studying her, as he knelt to rifle through more discs. She met his gaze somewhat hesitantly, but was surprised to find herself able to hold it. "Beautiful, but it makes you cry?" he said softly.
"Umm, yeah. That's kinda the point." And it was, truthfully.
He continued to look at her oddly for another moment before he changed his tone yet again. "Well, that's still silly, Martha. Now this"-he held up a colorful case-"is the perfect antidote to any kind of sad mood. Cheers me up, anyway." He smiled at the last part and it made her want nothing more than to smile just as brightly. He put the disc into the player after removing the one Martha had been watching and set it up to start playing.
Again without any kind of warning he bounded to the couch and flopped down beside her, his arm instantly going around her shoulders and pulling her against his side. Martha was so taken aback by his touch alone she instinctively tried to push herself away. He looked at her with wide, innocent eyes, clearly unaware of what he'd done to warrant such a reaction. Those damnable eyes of his. Always pulling her in and refusing to leave her in peace. Her resolve crumbled as she looked into those eyes, his voice low and soft now. "All right?" He spoke to her as if the slightest thing would send her running from the room…that seemed to be a fair judgment. "I'm not trying to scare you on purpose, ya know." His hand moved in slow circles on her arm, a gesture meant to be soothing and comforting. It was, but it also affected her in another, much less appropriate way. "Which is why we're gonna watch Muppet Treasure Island!"
His smile was back, and the absurdity of his words made her giggle in spite of herself. "Never pegged you for a Jim Henson fan, Doctor," she admitted.
Once more, his eyes were wide, this time with incredulousness. "Oh yeah! Biggest fan ever! Who do you think gave him the idea for Gonzo?" He chattered on throughout the opening credits about Henson, his Muppets, the historical inaccuracies of the film, the parallels of the film with the book, and all manner of things even vaguely related to the movie. Martha simply allowed herself to be pulled into his warmth, his voice talking animatedly about things she didn't care to follow at the moment. The combination of her own emotions, his arm around her, his voice, and his very presence were enough to lull her into a sweet sleep just ten minutes into the movie. In the back of her mind, she still heard the Doctor rambling on and on about nothing of any kind of significance to her just now, but instead of causing more heartache like it usually did it filled her with a kind of peace she didn't want to interrupt by talking. Her last fully-conscious thought was that he simply wasn't aware of how wonderful, how infuriating, how incredible he really was in her eyes.
The movie ended and the Doctor 'aww'd at the black screen. One thing he'd always told Henson was he made his films too short. He looked down to tell Martha that when he noticed what had become of her. She'd fallen asleep. Her hand was curled delicately on his chest near her face, her cheek pressing into his shoulder. Rather than wake her he simply grinned and planted a chaste kiss in her hair. He moved carefully so as not to disturb her, lifting her small frame into his arms and making his way to her bedroom.
He'd never been in her room before. He wasn't sure what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn't the almost-whimsical design of the place. Shades of purple lay calmly against off-white walls in the forms of wallscrolls and banners and drapes. Posters of flowers, pictures of her family, and cloth hangings of geometrical designs decorated the space, marked it as her own. He was surprised by the amount of dragonfly-themed items: jewelry (he remembered both the anklet and bracelet she'd worn when they confronted Lazarus in his laboratory that had dragonfly charms hanging from them), pictures, a fingerpainting obviously done by a child (Martha? A young niece or nephew?), her lotion and bath gel bottles from Bed, Bath and Beyond (he still wondered what exactly was in the 'Beyond' section), a tiny keepsake box with the image on its lid. Even the smallest pillow on her bed had the outline of the insect stitched in black against the pale blue cloth.
The Doctor grinned to himself at her seeming obsession with the insects. He'd honestly never thought of her as a bug person. "Martha Jones," he whispered to her as he lay her down on her mattress, "you are just full of surprises, aren't you?" He was suddenly aware of how uncomfortable she would be sleeping in her shoes, so he moved down to her feet and gently pulled them and her socks away, setting them quietly down on the floor. Then he went to her head and removed the hair clip she always wore, letting her hair fall to her shoulders.
Not once did she move or stir during his pseudo-undressing of her, and he felt oddly grateful for that. For some reason he was struck with the thought that his gestures made out of kindness and friendly concern would have been unwelcome by her. She'd been making a great effort to avoid all physical contact with him lately, so it stood to reason that this would seem like some kind of invasion of the privacy bubble she wanted to keep around herself.
That fact still disturbed him, though. Why was she suddenly so closed off from him? When he'd put his arm around her shoulder she acted as if she thought he was going to hurt her. She knew him better than that, and he knew that she knew he would never lay his hands on her like that. He hated to admit it, but it had hurt when she pushed him away. It was like she didn't trust him anymore. That implication alone stung him more than anything. But then she'd relaxed and curled up against him, even fallen asleep. If she didn't trust him, she certainly wouldn't have done that. Which only meant that something was troubling her and she either wouldn't confide in him or she didn't have the heart to load her burden onto him (she was selfless like that sometimes). He wouldn't force her to share her troubles, but he did think of a way to help her feel better.
The Doctor's mind instantly came up with a plan. He couldn't stand seeing Martha, his companion, his friend tormenting herself with whatever was strong enough to have her avoid him altogether. What kind of friend would he be in return to simply let her suffer in silence?
His plan was fully formed less than a minute after the initial inception, now it just took the cooperation of the TARDIS, cheeky thing that she had been recently, to make it come to fruition. One last glance at Martha's slumbering face and he felt his hearts grow warm. He truly did care about and for her, which was why it pained him to see her like this. He pushed a stray piece of hair from her eyes and kissed her forehead. "Pleasant dreams, Martha," he whispered. He quietly left her room, closing the door behind him, to let her sleep for just a little while longer. Plus, he needed to have a serious talking-to with his ship.
Martha had been dreaming of stars. All sorts of colors and sizes, all burning in a cobalt blue sky above her. Every now and then one would wiggle from its fixed place and fall, a streak of light following its descent. There was no sound, no explosion when it hit the ground, but she wasn't worried. All she could really seem to think of was if she had remembered to feed the cat and turn the stove off.
Then she fell. She was violently awoken by a sudden jostling of her environment. She had to really think about where she was in order to maintain some sense of sanity. White walls, softness beneath her, a purple curtain over what she was sure was her closet…the TARDIS. She was on the TARDIS. And it was moving…landing….doing something jarring.
The final bump which signified a landing was powerful enough to throw Martha from her bed and unceremoniously onto the floor. Her adrenaline was still pumping, but she registered that they weren't moving anymore (thankfully). She jumped up and ran out her door, eager to find the Doctor and find out what the hell had happened.
She found him in his usual position: scurrying about the console room like an excited child, a boyish smile plastered on his face. He was still adjusting and pushing various knobs and buttons when he noticed her standing there in the doorway. "MARTHA!" he exclaimed. She took a step back, a bit alarmed at his overenthusiastic (and loud) greeting. "C'mon! I've got something special to show you! But it's a surprise, so no questions of 'where are we' or 'when are we'. All you need to know is it'll cheer you up!" He wasn't looking at her anymore, but he continued to speak brightly to her as he moved around. "And now that the TARDIS isn't mad at me anymore, she let me bring us here! I think that's why she was being stubborn and not letting me drive her anywhere; she wanted me to bring us here! Why're you just standing there? C'mon!"
Martha was left breathless. It wasn't the first time she'd been out of breath just listening to him ramble off so much at once, but it always made her wonder if Time Lords had a bigger lung capacity than humans or if that was just him. Her shock wore off and was soon replaced with the thought of how utterly adorable he was when he was excited. She allowed herself a small smile at him before trying to step back towards her room. "Okay, okay, I'm coming. Just let me get changed…"
"No no no no no no no no! No time for that!" He rushed towards her and grasped her hand, pulling her towards the door. He let her go only long enough to throw his coat on and start to open the door. "Honestly, no one is going to care what you're wearing. Besides, you could wear a Caroginian slug around you and still be gorgeous." She had no idea what a Caroginian slug was, but the way he said she would 'still' be gorgeous made her heart swell.
She looked at him with absolute wonder and happiness at his (perhaps unintended) compliment as he made a big show out of just opening the door. "I think you'll be quite pleased with me now, as I'm a bit pleased with myself!" He sobered just for a moment. "I know it won't fix whatever it is I've done, but I hope it'll at least make you smile again." He grinned at her again and her heart melted in her chest. His concern touched her, as did the gentleness with which he now took her hand, as if she were the most precious thing in the world…universe…whatever.
Martha kept her eyes on his, focusing on the affection that was now so very-present in their ageless depths, as he finally pulled the door open and led them outside. When she looked away from him, her breath was once again stolen from her lungs. It was like she'd stepped into a dream, only this one was complete with sounds and smells she knew she couldn't imagine on her own.
Laid out before her all the way to the horizon of a lilac-colored sky was a field of endless white. It was too warm to be snow (wasn't it?), and she found upon looking down near her feet that it was a field of flowers. The blooms were as big as her hand, pure white petals surrounding hearts of deep orange. She was briefly reminded of the Doctor's description of the sky of his home planet. She glanced up to him, standing slightly behind her, and knew her expression could only be described as childish (as her mother would oh-so-delicately put it), but she didn't care. All that mattered was this man had brought her to this gorgeous place, wherever it was, and had done it all for her.
The Doctor was starting to get a little embarrassed under her stare, the pure innocence and joy she expressed without saying a word all directed solely at him. He motioned for her to look back at the field and she did…and gasped at what else shared the air.
Dragonflies! Thousands of them! Well, not really dragonflies. These creatures came in too many varied sizes, the smallest she saw no bigger than her fingernail, the largest (she hoped) as long as her leg. They had two sections to their cylindrical bodies rather than the singular shape of the dragonflies on Earth, and three pairs of wings rather than two. There were blue ones and gold, red and purple and pink and green and all shades in between the rainbow. They looked like flying jewels against the warm sunlight, their transparent wings shimmering as the light refracted and reflected through them.
Martha started to venture further from the TARDIS but stopped when she thought of something. "Doctor, they're not going to…eat me, are they?"
He couldn't help it. He laughed at her question, surprised that after everything they'd been through and all the times she probably should have asked it and didn't, she chose now to do so. "No," he answered eventually. "They're quite harmless. They feed off the flowers and the electromagnetic energy from the planet itself. There's absolutely no danger here, Martha."
She saw no lie, no trickery in his eyes. Only honest truth. Without even thinking she leapt towards him and flung her arms around his neck. The hug was over almost as quickly as it had begun, leaving behind a very stunned Doctor. He stayed by the TARDIS, not wanting to interfere. This was her moment, reserved only for her happiness. She was bounding through the flowers, the creatures following her as if in a game of tag. Her laughter, the sweet, sweet sound that it was, rang through the field, seeming to bring the very wind to life as it swept around them.
Martha had never felt so exhilarated before! She was acting completely inappropriate for her age, for her profession, but all of that was her mother's voice. She quickly shoved it aside and simply let herself get lost in the moment. There was no planet-wide crisis to avert, no angry star deity to fend off, no enemies to fight, no innocents to rescue, no negative thought whatsoever. She ran like she'd seen her nieces and nephews do at family gatherings; she'd always wanted to join them, but she knew that indulgence would only garner her strange looks and the disapproval of her mother. But her mother wasn't here now. Her family wasn't here. It was only her and the Doctor.
Thinking of him now, she realized she must have left him behind. She felt a little guilty looking back at him, seeing that he hadn't moved from the shadow of the TARDIS even when she was feeling freer than ever. She headed back to him, her new dragonfly-like friends following closely. She stopped just a few feet from the Doctor when she felt tiny feet latch onto her arm. Looking down, she saw a green bug clinging to her skin, just sitting there. She noticed its huge eyes were composed of what appeared to be thousands upon thousands of tiny screens; they must have been much more complex than the eyes of the insects on Earth. Immediately, a sense of absolute calm washed over her, seeming to originate from the bug. Another smaller one landed on her shoulder, and more joined those two until she was almost covered in them. Some flitted away instantly, but the bigger ones lingered a bit longer. She closed her eyes at the utter serenity she felt now and sank to the ground as if in a daze.
The Doctor knelt down to her level as he watched. He knew in reality there was no magic involved; just simple scientific facts. But "magical" seemed to be the only word he could find to describe what transpired within Martha. She looked as if she were meditating, seeking to channel some divine energy through her. Perhaps she was; he wasn't really sure. All that mattered was that she now (finally) looked at peace. He took special note of how the flying bugs took an immediate liking to her, how they moved around her and on her arms and shoulders and hair. She reminded him of how humans had pictured woodland sprites and nymphs for centuries, all perfect beauty and perfect harmony with the natural world, sunlight shining in her dark hair, her eyes closed in a state of perfect bliss. If only Botticelli or Rembrandt were here to capture this moment, was the first thought that popped into his head, along with the realization of how many times he thought the word 'perfect'.
"Doctor," she whispered softly, as if afraid to disturb the moment. "What are they?"
He paused. "Haven't the foggiest."
Martha's eyes fluttered open to look at him. "What do you mean? You don't know what they are yet you seem to know of every other species in the universe." As she went silent, a creature had ventured from her head down to her nose. She only smiled at it in return and softly blew it away, its wings moving faster than either of them could see. A girlish giggle escaped her lips, a sweetness in the sound that touched his hearts.
"Wellllll," he drawled, "it's not that, really. It's more because no one's ever named them." He gestured wide with his arms to indicate the entire planet. "This whole place is completely devoid of humanoid life forms. Poor little buggers aren't intelligent enough to name themselves, I'm afraid. And I'm not sure anyone else even knows about this place." He began to look around as if waiting to see someone else pop out from the field. No one did. When he turned back to Martha, she was cooing to a bright pink little bug that balanced itself on her fingertips. Another idea sprang to mind. "Why don't you name them?"
Martha was stunned into silence. Her wide eyes locked on him as if suggesting that giving names to an entire species was the same as suggesting she choose the chocolate cake over the yellow. "Are you daft?" came her incredulous reply.
"Maybe," he quipped, a smile overtaking his face. "But you should know that by now, Martha Jones."
She laughed at him, glad to be able to have such a friendly conversation with him again after so long. Of course, she'd never admit to how happy hearing him say her name like that made her. Not to him, at least. "Okay then." A pause. "What should I call them?"
"Now, that's not really up to me, is it? You go on and pick." He refrained from adding the fact that this trip was meant for her, not for him.
Martha thought long and hard about what to call her new winged friends. The comparison she'd made when she first saw them swam back to the front of her mind; they really were like living jewels, flitting about with such grace that would put the dragonflies on Earth to shame (if dragonflies even felt shame, that is). She then recalled a word she'd heard from one of her flatmates when she was attending university. "Petradi." When the Doctor gave her no response, she explained further. "It means 'gem in Greek. Well, literally it means 'little stone', but it seems fitting. Don't they look like jewels to you, Doctor?"
"Hmm, yes, yes they do, don't they?" He broke from her gaze to drift over the newly-named petradis, understanding the comparison and finding it brilliant. As always. "What about the planet itself? What would you call that?"
She laughed once more, reveling in the sound of her own voice for a change. She'd been too long without laughter. The petradis broke from her in one move as she laughed, rising like a multi-colored cloud before settling back onto her, several of them having flown off. "Are you trying to turn me into Adam now, Doctor?"
His made a face at her. "How in hell would I turn you into a man named Adam? I'm amazing, but not a mad scientist."
More laughter, stronger, louder. "That can certainly be argued! Anyway, I meant Adam from the Bible. You know, it's Adam's job to name all the living things on Earth?"
The Doctor humphed. "Never heard that story."
"Well, be glad. It gets really depressing towards the end." She went quiet as she began to think on his words. Could she really give a name to an entire planet? Was it arrogant to do so? What right did she have to give an identity to something so vast, so much more than herself? Then she glanced at the Doctor again. All thoughts of potential arrogance and doubt were instantly washed from her mind when she saw his grinning eyes. He's done this for me, she thought, in awe of him once again. He brought me to this place, this paradise, and he's giving me the power to name it. I'm not sure if I should be more shocked than I am. Then again, this is the Doctor. 'Normal' isn't exactly in his vocabulary. She stifled a giggle at her turn of thoughts.
She continued to look around at the flowers and how endless they seemed, their faint fragrance reminding her of honeysuckle. The sky was a gorgeous shade of purple, alternating between lavendar and deep amethyst, the sunlight looking the same as it did on Earth. Off in the distance she thought she saw the beginnings of mountains, their jagged summits peeking over the horizon. She took a deep breath and was rewarded with the flowers' scent and something else she couldn't quite place. It was like…the strength of cinnamon but without the pungent odor. And it smelled…clean, if that was the proper way to describe it. And of course, the petradis were her favorite part of the whole excursion! They were so much like her favorite Earth animal, so beautiful and mysterious to her.
"Aaru," he heard her whisper. He wasn't quite sure she'd said anything, however.
"Sorry, what was that?"
"Aaru. It's the Egyptian word for 'paradise'. That's what this place is, Doctor. Sheer paradise."
He watched her as she surveyed the planet once again, noticing the tears that sprang to her eyes this time around. He grew alarmed for a brief moment until she looked at him and he saw the joy in her expression, the uninhibited happiness that shone there. He could only shake his head in amazement. "Martha Jones, you truly are a star. Has anyone ever told you that?"
"Just you, Doctor. Thank you. For all of this. For everything!"
"My pleasure." And he meant it, with both his hearts.
Martha began to feel a small ball of nervousness grow in her gut as she contemplated her next words. She saw a few more petradis land on her once again, her anxiousness lessened but still present. "Doctor," she started carefully, "if I may be so bold as to name one more thing, do you think that'd be alright?"
He titled his head to the side as he studied her. "Why ever not?"
"Well, it's just…first of all, this is just so bizarre! I mean, I'm giving names to things! On another planet! Hell, I've just named the planet itself! It feels like it should be wrong."
"Does it?" He asked with such sincerity and simplicity. She couldn't help but wonder if that was just him or a trait of a Time Lord. She couldn't formulate an answer that would make any kind of sense to either of them, so she remained silent. "There's something else, though, isn't there. C'mon, you can tell me, Martha."
Martha worried her lower lip for a beat before turning to look down at the white flowers. "The flowers. I'd like to give them a name, too."
"Then by all means!" His voice was its usual excited tone, a fact which made her smile despite herself.
"Heart of Gallifrey." Silence. All-encompassing absence of sound. She could have sworn even their breathing and hearts had stopped. "Doctor?" She didn't want to look at him just yet, not until she could gauge his reaction properly.
"And, uh…what makes you pick that?" The Doctor's voice was low, a bit thick, but gave away no indication of his emotions. So did that mean he was unhappy with her choice? Or pleased? Or…what?
"Well, if you look into their centers, their hearts, they're a dark orange color. I remember you said the sky of your home was a burnt orange, and when I saw these flowers I instantly thought of Gallifrey and how much it meant to you." He still hadn't said anything. Her worry increased. "And whatever means a lot to you means a lot to me, ya know? So…..Heart of Gallifrey."
The Doctor was once again left astonished by this woman. Not only had she saved the world on several occasions, helped him immeasurably whenever he was in danger, and put her own life aside for the benefit of others, but now she was giving thought to him and his long-lost home world. No thought for herself. She could have just as easily named the flowers Marthas or something equally as self-serving (and he knew just how selfish, even unintentionally, humans could be). But no. She went and chose a name out of a thought for him, to give him some visual, physical connection to Gallifrey rather than just his own memories and how intangible they were.
"Doctor?" She had finally grown tired of the quiet and opted to break it first; after all, she didn't exactly have the kind of time to wait around like a Time Lord did. "Doctor, please say something."
He took a couple breaths to ground himself before he spoke. "You….you are amazing, Martha Jones." It came out as barely more than a whisper, but he knew she'd heard him. He knew because when she looked at him it was with shining eyes and a faint blush coloring her cheeks. He didn't fail to notice how only a handful of petradis now remained on her, and even those were beginning to disperse rapidly. Without a hint of warning he darted forward and caught her up in his arms, swinging her around in circles much like he'd done in the Empire State Building. His outburst startled both her and the petradis, but soon enough she was laughing with him in pure, unhindered joy.
They clung to each other once they stopped spinning, both of them so very grateful for the gifts they bestowed on each other. The Doctor buried his face in her neck, urging her to understand just what she meant to him, along with the newly-named flowers. "Thank you, Martha," he whispered. "Thank you!"
Her soft chuckle washed over him even as she pulled herself away. Her hands came up to his face in order to look him in the eyes. "We can take some with us, can't we?" She thought her heart would burst at the smile he gave her; it was almost as if she could feel it as a light caress.
"I believe that can be arranged," he answered happily. Reaching into his coat pocket, he retrieved what looked to be an oddly-shaped Tupperware container; it was oblong and apparently made of glass. He opened it and pulled the bottom apart from the longer top piece. He then crouched down and carefully scooped up some of the dark green soil and a couple of the flowers by the roots; they didn't go down too far from the surface, so he didn't have to worry about killing them. The top piece went back over the plants and twisted into place, leaving it looking very much like a display stand used by some high-end florists. "Ta-daaaa!"
Martha was feeling better than she'd felt in weeks, so another laugh was a welcome change from all the sorrow she'd been drowning herself in lately. Once he'd safely placed the flowers back into his bigger-on-the-inside pocket, she fluidly slid her arm around his, reaching up on her tip-toes to kiss him on the cheek. She grinned at the blush that spread up his neck and face. "That's a proper thank you, Doctor. Not zipping off across galaxies and time, although I won't say I don't enjoy those trips, this one especially. But I see I'm going to have my work cut out for me, yeah? Someone needs to teach you manners."
And just like that, she'd stunned him for the second time that day. She bounded off to the TARDIS, her hand on the wooden frame waiting for him to join her, the petradis no longer following her. And that same, sweet smile still lit up her face. "You stayin', then?" she quipped, echoing his very words to her on New Earth. "Don't blame you. It is quite a beautiful place, Aaru is." She smiled wider at her own personal joke, enjoying the sight of him in her shoes for a change.
The Doctor blinked once and took a deep breath. "Yes, yes, quite beautiful." He started towards the TARDIS, his mind whirling in a million different directions all at once. "But I reckon it'd get pretty boring without some kind of company. The kind that can talk, to be more precise." He looked down into her grinning face then. "I don't fancy having to learn a language that's nothing but buzzing." They both chuckled at the thought.
He had just opened the door for her when another question sprang to mind. "Doctor, what did they, the petradis, I mean…when they landed on me, it was like….like a wave of peace settled over me. I'd never felt anything like it before, not to mention so quickly."
She hesitated for a brief moment at the grin he gave in return, but he swiftly followed with an explanation as he ushered them inside. "Well, remember when I said they feed off of the electromagnetic field around the planet? It's not just planets and big chunks of space rock that have those fields. Humans do, too." Her eyes went wide at the revelation. "Whenever humans are upset or angry or what have you, their EMF, electromagnetic field, fluctuates ever-so slightly. You start to give off more of that signature. Sometimes some humans can feel it, but mostly it's unnoticeable. But the petradis have adapted to use those fields to their advantage, using them as sustenance." He glanced at Martha out the corner of his eye and saw her pause, her expression unreadable. He took a deep breath before speaking again. "I'd noticed that you weren't yourself lately, Martha. Something was bothering you, but you wouldn't tell me what it was. Even the TARDIS felt it, and I reckon that's why she got so barmy with me and stopped letting me go near the console. So, rather than go through the awkwardness of an actual conversation to figure out the matter, I brought you here, to help you out…in my own way…"
Martha wasn't quite sure what to think. He'd known she wasn't feeling up to par for a while, and rather than just ask her to talk to him he brought her to another planet where glittering bugs essentially feed off of her emotions in order to calm her down. But she knew by now, had known for a long time, that just talking about something like feelings wasn't exactly an easy task for him, nevermind the fact that he probably wouldn't even fully understand why she felt the way she did. It was actually pretty unfair of her to assume he would when she'd done nothing but hide what she really felt from him, hidden it all behind masks of either duty (for example, the incident in 1913) or indifference. Then again, was it really so hard for him to ask her what was wrong rather than whisk her away to a planet no one had apparently ever heard of or been to except for him? On the other hand, what other man would even think of doing such a grand gesture just for her? Not any of the ones she'd met before, for sure. She was always in awe of the incredible power he held along with his ship, and to think that he would use it just to comfort her in such a way was immensely sweet of him. But the fact still remained that he hadn't just asked her what the problem was. But she would have evaded the conversation more than likely anyway.
A headache wasn't far behind her inner struggle to understand this man, this being. She forced herself to stop thinking altogether; at least until her head stopped feeling like a spiked sledgehammer was pounding away at the inside of her skull. She closed her eyes against the onslaught and pressed into her temple with her fingertips, a trick she'd learned when the headaches came almost daily while cramming like mad for her medical exams. She didn't see the Doctor come to stand before her, but she immediately felt his proximity and looked up.
His eyes were full of alarm, wondering what had happened now to give her such a headache. Without saying a word, he raised his hands to hers and gently pried them from her head, replacing her fingers with his own. The effect was instantaneous: the sharp pain died down and was replaced with a warmth that flowed from where he made contact with her skin. She visibly slumped as the pain disappeared entirely, suddenly grateful for her otherworldly friend for a whole new reason. "All right?" he asked. She nodded.
"Just thinking too much too fast." She chuckled a little; it was the truth, but she wasn't ready to explain beyond that. She noticed that he had yet to remove his fingers from her temples and cleared her throat in embarrassment. A vague sense of annoyance with herself came over her. She thought she'd put all embarrassment at a simple touch behind her when she was a teenager. She hated feeling like a teen again, as they weren't exactly her proudest years.
The Doctor seemed to only just realize he was still touching her, his hands quickly removing themselves. "Care to share what you were thinking about, Miss Jones?" He tried for a little more levity in his voice in light of the situation.
She eyed him suspiciously, wondering if there was some hidden meaning to his innocent-sounding words. She detected none, but she just wasn't ready to give voice to the emotions and thoughts that had led her to her depression. Not just yet. "Not really," was her soft reply. "I mean, not yet. I just need a little time to put everything together myself." The look he gave her said he didn't believe that that was the whole story (which it wasn't). "I promise, Doctor. I will tell you…just, not right this moment, yeah?"
Every fiber in his body wanted to keep pushing, find out just what exactly had been eating at her over the last few weeks. He hated not being able to figure something out, especially when it came to Martha. But then, that was part of her charm, part of why he so enjoyed having her around. She was indeed a puzzle to him, just as much as he was to her. Strong, independent, clever, resilient Martha had been brought down by her own inner demons and he'd been powerless to fight them off for her. He wanted her to continue smiling like she was now, to never feel like she was lost in darkness ever again. She would have him to look out for her; she only needed to ask and he would drop everything for her.
He sighed through his nose in mild frustration. "All right, then. When you're ready, I'll be here to listen. Agreed?" He stuck out his hand, waiting for her to shake it to seal the deal.
Martha rolled her eyes at him, but took his hand nonetheless. "All right. Agreed!"
"Molto bene!" he exclaimed suddenly. He was out of his overcoat and jumping around the console room as usual now. "So! Now that the damsel is no longer in distress, where should we go next?" He paused for a moment, staring at a spot on the far wall. "Have I made a rhyme?"
Once more, Martha couldn't contain a bark of laughter. She could swear he exhibited traits of bipolar disorder, but then again that was probably just him. And she loved him all the more for it. "Yes, that does rhyme, and how about someplace with snow?" She did miss the fluffy white stuff. Not to mention entertaining the idea of hurling a couple snowballs at the Doctor's head just for kicks. "But not someplace like Hoth! I don't exactly fancy freezing to death anytime soon. Just somewhere with snow."
"Ahhh, so the doctor is in truth a snow queen who is also a Star Wars geek!" he teased. He did quite enjoy that word after hearing Martha's sister call him one back on Earth.
"Hey, nothing wrong with liking snow!" she threw back just as teasingly. "It just never came up before."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," he half-sang. "Somewhere with snow, somewhere with snow…I got it! How about Daestris, second planet in the Alpha Centauri system? Best skiing in the galaxy, so I've heard."
"You mean you've never gone before?" The thought was a bit strange to her, seeing as he seemed to have already been everywhere.
"Nope!" A popped 'p', a few more pushed buttons and pulled levers and the TARDIS was flying through space and time towards Daestris. Neither of her grinning occupants noticed, but she was indeed quite happy the Doctor had managed to open his eyes just a little bit more towards their human friend. He just needed a push every now and then, and the TARDIS would always be there to do that whenever he (or Martha) needed it.
Bonus: Cookies to whoever knows what movie Martha was watching before the Doctor came in ;)