My lovelies! I'm back! Sorry I've been away for so long, but I had to make sure that this was as good as it could possibly be. I know that last chapter was kind of like "WHAT the WHAT?"... Unfortunately this one is too. OOPSY! Don't worry. The fluff shall return soon. Enjoy!

Oh and SUPER DUPER THANKS to Sheena is a Punk Rocker for being a super awesome sounding board and suggestion guru. You're amazing, Hun!

XII

She settled on the blue one. The red one was, well, red: the trademark color of seduction. Seduction wasn't what she was after. The purple one was cut too low: not only did it show too much cleavage, it gave a clear view of all the bruises. The tan one was too business-y, the white one would probably be covered in red wine by the end of the night, and the black one, well, the black one was still in a crumpled heap on the TARDIS floor.

No, the blue one would have to do. And she'd have to wear a jacket: The jacket's thin straps didn't quite cover the purple bite on her shoulder. "What's he got, space teeth?" She muttered to herself as she marveled at the bruise, simultaneously finding it horrifying and beautiful. Martha pulled the dress over her head: A simple, cobalt dress with a high neckline. It only grazed her curves and stopped just short of her knee. Sexy, but not too sexy, she decided.

She wore her makeup light and her hair down over her shoulder, trying in vain to cover the rest of the marks. To the casual observer, Martha Jones might have looked battered. But Martha knew: these were the marks of a woman who'd been very thoroughly loved.

She slipped on black heels and a black blazer just as the doorbell rang. Her husband was at the door. She suddenly felt guilty. Even given their separated status, even though she hadn't exactly cheated, she felt as though she had deceived Mickey. She grabbed her bag and made her way to the door.

She didn't bother with a fake smile, he would have been able to tell anyway. Feigning happiness would have been a slap in the face to them both. However, when she finally opened the door, a genuine smile broke out before she realized it.

"Hey," She squeaked through a Cheshire grin. She really had missed him.

"Hey, you." He spoke quietly, trying to conceal a smile of his own. His eyes traveled down her body, then back up to her eyes. "You look… nice." Nice was an understatement. His eyes on hers said as much, and she was suddenly self-conscious. She pulled the jacket closer to her body.

Mickey cleared his throat. "Well, we should be off then. Our reservation is at 8:30."

He took her hand, but didn't attempt the hug. Not yet.

Dinner was at their favorite restaurant: an intimate, upscale restaurant where they'd spent dates, birthdays, and their last anniversary. So when they entered the establishment, it was as if they were greeting old friends. Everything seemed so… normal. An echo of her old life.

"Ahhh, it's the Smiths! Long time, no see ehh?" The maître d said, clasping his hands in front of him. "How's my favorite couple doing? I half expected there to be a reservation for two and a half!" He said to the couple, oblivious to their recent troubles. Mickey just let out a bitter chuckle. Martha wasn't amused. Peter, the maître d didn't seem to notice. He led them to their usual table in the corner.

Dinner went better than she expected. To say they were like newlyweds again was a stretch, but there was a comfortableness she had come to miss in the months she'd spent alone. Conversation just came so easy as they caught up on the last five months. She strategically left out her recently kicked habit of sleeping with strangers as well as her relationship with The Doctor. They laughed their way through dessert. Just like old times.

He suggested they go for a walk, but she declined- deciding that she should call it a night. When he pulled up to what used to be their home, he got out and opened her door.

"I had a really good time tonight." He said once they reached the front door. He leaned against the doorframe, his eyes penetrating.

"I did too." Martha admitted. "I-"

She didn't get a chance to complete that statement because at that moment, his lips crushed hers. Thus began the downward spiral of a pretty perfect evening. It took a moment to process: his lips on hers, a husband kissing a wife. She then realized the gravity of the situation: Holy shit! Mickey's kissing me. Right now. I'm in love with The Doctor. I was just with him this morning. This has to stop. NOW.

She pushed him away.

"What's the matter? I thought… I thought things were going well…"

He looked positively crestfallen. She hated the look on his face just then.

"Mickey… we shouldn't- I mean we can't…" she stammered through an explanation that even she didn't fully understand.

"Maybe you should just come in. We need to talk."

Pleased, Mickey followed his wife into the house. However, his pleasure was short lived as he saw the papers strewn over the coffee table along with a brown envelope; the divorce papers he'd left two months ago- signed.

"I'm sorry, Mickey. We just can't. We can't keep acting like everything's fine between us. I love you, but you were right. You deserve someone without so much…. baggage."

"No, Martha. I wasn't. I was so, so wrong." He took her hands in his and kissed them tenderly before taking a seat on the couch and bringing her with him. "I love you. We can- I don't know- see a counselor. We can work through it. I'm empty without you. Please, let's just go back to the way things were before, yeah?" He was so hopeful, it almost made her hopeful too. Almost.

"Mickey, I just can't. It's not fair to either one of us." She took her jacket off and hung it on the back of the couch before turning back to him. They had spent the whole night dancing around this very issue, and if it were to be confronted, it should be done with care. "I'm in love with someone else, and I can't let you just hang around waiting for me to come around. You're an amazing man, and an even better husband and you don't deserve what little I can give. You deserve someone who values you, who loves and cherishes you. Someone normal, who can give you a happy, quiet life. I love you, Mickey Smith. Just not enough."

She was proud of herself: finally acting like an adult in this relationship and tying up all of the loose ends. That it, until she realized that he hadn't been listening. Instead, his eyes were fixed on her shoulder: on the dark impression left by the Doctor. So much for confronted with care, she thought. Martha cursed and mentally flogged herself for forgetting to keep it hidden. Her expletive seemed to jolt him from his trance.

"Who was it then?" His voice held an eerie calm.

"Mickey, just leave it. It's not important."

"It was him, wasn't it? Please don't tell me it was him, Martha. Please." He was cracking, emotions peeking through his stoic façade.

"He came back. Apologized. Told me he loved me." She kept her eyes trained on the table. She couldn't bring herself to look at him. "Mickey, I'm sorry." She was greeted by a bitter, almost maniacal laugh.

"Of course. Figures this would happen." Mickey stood brusquely, gathering the papers from the table slowly, controlled- as if he were trying to control himself as well.

"And why wouldn't he choose you? Brilliant, beautiful, caring, and completely devoted. You'd do anything for him. What better replacement for Rose than somebody that will answer his every beck and call? Keeping you hanging on him was probably the smartest decision he ever made. Doctor Jones: ass on-call. You're a slave, Martha." He shook his head disgustedly. "And he will never look at you the way he looked at her."

And with that he turned on his heel and walked out of the door, slamming it so hard that he cracked the glass. He left Martha alone, struck mute by his rant. She wanted to go after him- to hit him and tell him he was wrong. She wanted to scream and fight and somehow prove to Mickey that the Doctor loved her and only her. To prove that she was nobody's replacement and definitely nobody's slave. But Mickey was gone.

Only his words and her own vicious memories were left behind.

Roses are red, violets are blue. Like this fic? Please REVIEW!

xoxo, LPL