It's been so long! I'm sorry guys, school has been kicking my ASS! I'm back though. At least for a little bit. I hope you like it I have so many different storylines in my head that I refuse to entertain because I have too many running series already. I'm running the risk of abandoning a few as it is.

Oh yeah, and read some of my other stories too! Thankkksss ;)

Disclaimer: I don't own anything... Just borrowing.

Chapter IX

He was almost positive that he's fallen asleep a Time Lord. So how he had somehow been transformed into a being of beast of pure sensation upon awakening? Every nerve in his body seemed to hum and twitch from the reverberations between his legs. He felt himself unsheathed by Martha's velvety warmth, leaving only uncomfortable, sticky cold in its wake as she slipped off of him and out of the bed. He'd almost forgotten that there were other needs besides the carnal ones.

When he finally ventured to open his eyes, he saw he peering over her shoulder just before closing the bathroom door. He simply reveled in his sated happiness, for once not thinking of how long it would last.

When he heard the water running, he decided to join her. He found her standing in the full-length mirror poking absently at the bruises on her hips and thighs. However, she kept furrowed brows fixed on the large bite mark that purpled against the caramel of her skin. She winced as she picked a bit of blood from the wound.

Standing next to her, he took the opportunity to examine his own battle scars: bruises covered his neck and chest. However, the pièce de résistance were the deep red half-moons from where her nails dug into his skin of his chest. He turned to see where she'd clawed at his back during their fevered love-making. Blood stuck to his skin as well. He could have healed himself easily, but he chose to wear the sweet stigmata as a badge of honor. Besides, after seeing the damage she'd inflicted, Martha was a bit more forgiving about the ugly bite.

They shared a shower, purely in the interest of saving water, the Doctor claimed. But they both knew better. They spent days in carefree bliss: watching low-budget horror films, attempting obscure alien recipes in the elaborate TARDIS kitchen, and practicing mastering each other's anatomy.

The Doctor ordered from a Chicago pizzeria, claiming that they "literally have the best pizza in all of the seven galaxies. And I would know!" And Martha laughed aloud as he asked to have it delivered to the blue police box on the corner. It was all so terribly, disgustingly domestic and the Doctor, for the first time in…well… forever, was perfectly OK with that. But underneath it all of the happy, the carefree, the adventure of no adventure, he could feel her unrest.

So, on the fifth day, he finally asked.

She sat on the burgundy duvet in the baroque themed room they shared.

"Nobody's called yet." Martha looked up at him with a sad smile- her eyes full of meaning. He couldn't quite connect her dots.

"By Earth time, it should be Thursday…" She trailed off. The picture was fuzzy, but slowly came into view.

"Timey-Wimey."

The picture was clear.

"You've been here for five days with a job and a life and a family, but nobody's called so… they must not have reason to call." He surmised. "You're leaving."

"I have to go back. I'd love to stay. You know I would. I'd stay with you forever, but you know why I can't." Her smile was gone.

"I know. And I would never ask you to."

The words hadn't been true until he said them. In truth, he'd have asked her, tried to reason, tried to make it make sense. Then he said those words and they became fact. He couldn't ask her to abandon her family, her job, and her life for him and his uncertain existence. Just as he knew she could never ask him to give up travelling the stars.

She agreed to stay for one more day, but she knew she couldn't stay for too much longer. She couldn't run from real life forever. Even so, the knowledge was bittersweet. She had finally found her missing piece, only to have to give it up in exchange for the rest of the puzzle.

The Doctor could admit that he was a bit unnerved by the situation: his revelation, its culmination, and now, its dissipation. But what he refused to admit was that the Oncoming Storm was legitimately terrified. Somehow, Martha Jones had found a way to burrow under 900 years of skin and scars and nestled in the intersection of his hearts. She'd become his security blanket. They'd crossed every line and it was impossible to just go back to the way things were. He couldn't just give her up…again. And he couldn't forget her.

So they made plans. And in between that, they made love. He penetrated her with reckless abandon; desperate, exploding passion. He made love to her full of hope: hope that maybe if he loved her hard enough she'd stay. Or maybe she'd ask him to. Or maybe, by some miracle, this sacred act would join them as one being and he could live inside of her forever.

She could feel the desperation that he pounded into her and wanted nothing more than to soothe him. To reassure him- both of them- that everything would be OK. That once she left, that wouldn't just be it.

When they materialized in her living room, it was Sunday again and bittersweet still. He promised to visit as often as he possibly could and to take care of himself (even though, she knew the second one would be the hardest to do).

She promised to call if she needed him- or even if she didn't. She promised that they would make it work; after all, they'd been through worse, hadn't they? (Even though, at that exact moment, she couldn't think of anything.)

When he asked to spend the night, just one more, she gladly said yes. Though they didn't speak of it, though they tiptoed around it, an air of uncertainty clung to their clothes and skin and souls because they both knew the truth: Once he stepped back into the TARDIS, there was no guarantee that the Doctor would ever see Martha Jones again.

I had A bit more, but I'll save it for the next chapter. I know it got a little angsty, but I hope you liked it! Review (please)!

xoxo, LPL