Helloooo, my beauties. Chapter 4's up! I think a many of you are going to like this chapter.
I'd like to apologize in advance. Winter semester starts soon and I may not be able to update regularly, but I can guarantee you that I'm not going to abandon you until this thing's done!
Also, I don't own anything. Sue me if you like, just to see what will happen, I guess.
I have a few new projects in the works... Maybe some Martha/ Elevens and some SuperWho crossovers.
Read and review if you enjoy the story!
Chapter IV
Here he was. It wasn't as if he hadn't ever been in her house before. But before, she was married. She didn't have that vulnerable undertone- one that just begged to be prodded and caressed- bubbling just below her confident exterior. He recognized it almost immediately. It was only one of the many gifts that living for 906 years had given him- being able to pinpoint the weaknesses of others and know how to exploit and manipulate them almost immediately. It was one of the qualities he valued against an enemy. Against a friend, against Martha at this very moment, he was disgusted with it. At the fact that he could, not doubt, have her if he wanted. He could manipulate her fragile state to his advantage; there was a part of him, burning at his very core, whispering. "She wanted it then. Of course, she wants it now. Both of you know it, so why not just go to her?" The voice sneered.
He wanted to. She was in the shower. He knew the odds of her objecting if he decided to join her were slim. But not like this. Not in a million years would he want to use his giant Time Lord-y brain to manipulate the woman he loved into a cheap fuck. That's not what he was there for. In fact, he wasn't even supposed to be there. He was just at the wrong place at the wrong time and got caught.
So instead of heading up to the bathroom, where she was scrubbing away the memory of the previous night, he planted himself in her kitchen, plowing through an entire loaf of homemade banana bread. By the time she made her way back to the kitchen 20 minutes later the bread was gone, the dishes were done and the floor had been mopped to squeaky, reflective perfection.
"You never could keep your hands still for very long. And did you eat all of the bread? I keep forgetting you skipped the manners course at the academy."
She looked refreshed, though her voice still had a tired rasp to it. He watched her move around the kitchen in a plush white robe and matching slippers. She smelled of plain soap, just as she had back then. She wasn't wearing any make up and her hair was still damp. The Martha Jones that he had encountered this morning had been scrubbed and stripped away and a fresh, clean Martha Jones had taken her place, though he could still feel the layers of mask and emotion that she put on.
"Oi!" he said, feigning offense. "Who need manners with these looks?" He winked and she let the smallest of smiles creep to her lips.
"Well Doctor, let's get down to business. What exactly are you doing here?" she said, putting the kettle on.
"What?"
"Why, Doctor, are you here? At my house. What is it? Alien trafficking? Daleks? Clones? Darth Vader? What is it? Because you don't just pop in for tea and biscuits." There was a slight irritation in her words, but not anger or malice. It was then that he noticed it. Something in the way she looked at him had changed. Less adoration, slight irritation but the longing was still there: tiny and hiding but still there. She still loved him, yes. But she was a changed woman. He was almost apprehensive to continue.
"I… I missed you. Am I not allowed to miss an old friend?" he murmured, more to his shoes than to her. How had she gained the ability to reduce him to a sputtering school boy?
She crossed her arms over her chest and raised an eyebrow. She didn't buy it. Why wouldn't she? It really was the truth, well mostly.
But then again, why would she believe him? He hadn't exactly been the affectionate type during their travels. Just a friend-and not always a good one. So he decided to deflect- manipulating the conversation to avoid talking about why he'd shown up on her doorstep unannounced. "Want to talk about it?" He eyed the envelope, then raised his eyes back to hers.
"What's there to talk about? You read the papers: Irreconcilable differences."
"No, but what does that mean? What happened? You two were... You know. Happy." It pained him to even say the words. To think about the way she looked at him on their wedding day- it seemed like undying love.
The irritation was back. "Irreconcilable differences. It's just what it bloody sounds like. Differences that cannot be reconciled. Things happen, Doctor. People change. And they say you're the clever one." She turned to the cabinets to get two cups.
He thought it best to ignore her last comment. "So.. What are your plans? Now that you're all…unattached."
"Same thing I've been doing." He felt it rise- her irritation. She was reaching anger. What had he done wrong? Why was she angry? He was at a loss. Then a thought came to him. He blurted it out before it was even completed.
"Fancy a trip?" The words came tumbling out of his mouth, full of the same easy confidence that had lured her in the first time.
"Excuse me?" Her voice was almost incredulous- like she couldn't believe what she was hearing. It was the last thing she expected.
"Come with me." The three words that she longed to hear for so long, in lieu of those other three little words. Those words once had the ability to make her walk on water and float on air. Now they burned her up. His smile was usually contagious but now it was infuriating. The way he just dropped in, invaded her space, unknowingly played kickball with her heart and just expected her to drop everything and go on yet another heartbreakingly whimsical journey into time and space, like he just knew he had her hooked. His Time Lord Jedi mind trick attempt pushed her to the edge, over it and past it. The mask lifted and her emotions were laid bare. Martha Jones snapped like never before.
"You ruin us. You know? The people you acquire. The poor souls you decide to grace with your presence. Your charity cases. You turn us into damaged goods." Her voice escalated to a yell.
"Martha, I-" She cut him off.
"No, Doctor. You don't get a turn. It's your turn to listen. How exactly do you expect us to go back to real life after exposing us to all of that? After all we see? How do we cope? I'll tell you how. We don't. We self-destruct. Those of us weren't dropped off in other dimensions or had to have our memories wiped, we don't cope."
Her mentions of Donna and Rose hurt. She knew by the way his eyes darkened that she had struck a nerve. She'd been aiming for the jugular. Shooting to kill. He stayed silent, but his rage and sadness shown darkly in his eyes. Under normal circumstances, to see that Time Lord Wrath directed towards her would have completely terrified her. Not today, for what was the legendary rage of a Time Lord compared to that of a woman scorned? What was the oncoming storm compared to the ancient sea of hurt and unrequited love that coursed through her veins like fire.
"We accept the lives you drop us into and we die away. We hurt ourselves. We hurt the completely innocent people who love us. Normal, loving people who can't understand why we're so broken and why they never even have a shot at fixing us. You turn us into the same destructive force that you are- but instead of destroying the worlds of others, we destroy our own worlds and end up just as sad and alone as you are. The only difference is that we don't have a magic blue box to distract us. Only cold harsh reality."
Her face was stone, save for the tears that rolled steadily down her cheeks. He was out of breath as if she'd knocked the wind out of him. His jaw and fists clenched and unclenched as if he was fighting the urge to do something rash. He was fighting for control. Just then, the tea kettle sounded like the fight bell in a boxing match. She turned off the kettle.
"You should go." Her back was still turned, but she could hear him turn and walk in the direction of the front door. A few seconds later, the door slammed with a ferocity she was sure could have splintered it into a million pieces. It was only after he left her that she let go and crumpled into a heap on the floor, sobbing uncontrollably.