The worst thing about all this, he thought, was that he couldn't remember the smiles. The good times, the laughter…they were all tucked away in some far off part of his brain that he couldn't seem to access, and all he could see were the screams and the tears.
Telling himself over and over again that he should have listened all along. Thinking about her face as she literally floated out of his life. Wondering whether he'd dreamed it all, whether Pete hadn't really appeared at the last minute, and whether she was out there somewhere, lost in the darkness. This was what he thought about, late at night, when the TARDIS was quiet and Martha was asleep.
Why couldn't he just remember a smile?
He was wrong. That wasn't the worst thing. The worst thing was wondering what had been wrong just before it all happened. The questions, the childlike acceptance of any pathetic explanation he threw at her…that wasn't right, and he couldn't help thinking that somehow, somewhere, something was still wrong, that a part of her was forever altered by what had happened up there on that satellite.
It was on nights like these, slumped in a chair in the library with a book across his lap, trying desperately to focus on words that always formed themselves into her name, that he was tempted, just to try. To Hell with them all, to Hell with what was going to happen. He'd done it before, he could do it again. He knew what would happen back home. Few tears would be shed over the loss of a few stupid apes. Then he thought about Martha, and he knew he couldn't do that to her. Idiot, he thought, you never learn. It doesn't matter how many times you lose them, how many times you get hurt, you still go back for more.
It was a year to the day since Norway when someone made the choice for him. Running into the TARDIS after a particularly close call, they were met by flashes, beeps, wails and every other kind of noise he could think of. (Obviously trying to get someone's attention…)
It was a year to the day since he'd last kicked the console. Six months or so since he'd actually 'made up' with her. Now, looking at the readouts that blinked on every available screen (okay, you've got my attention, now stop it, you're giving me a headache…), he kicked it harder than he'd ever done before, not regretting the pain in what felt suspiciously like a broken toe one bit.
He didn't care that he was probably going to end up killing them all. He didn't care that somewhere in the room, Martha was screaming and clinging onto whatever she could find for dear life.
As they fell through, he remembered the day they'd landed in the tunnels to be confronted by their own tombstones, and the landing that came beforehand, and figured that this had to be at least three times that. He wondered briefly whether he was going there again. What would he find? Knowing his luck, they'd probably land in the middle of her funeral, wherever it was being held.
He literally fell out of the TARDIS. Somehow he'd ended up thrown towards the door, and now they were finally still, the door flew open and he was on his face in front of an indistinguishable crowd of people.
This has to be some kind of sick joke, he thought, looking up through hazy vision.
There was a scream as the entire wedding party turned to stare at him and the girl who was wandering, dazed, out of the TARDIS and into the aisle full of flowers.
"Uh…hello…"