Martha Jones was perplexed and that was something that didn't sit well with her. One day, an ordinary man (or so she thought) in a brown suit, blue tie, and white Converse saved her and a thousand other people from near death and then, oddly enough, invited her to join him in his time and space machine. The TARDIS, he called it. The man offered to show her the universe and she couldn't resist.
In her short time with him, Martha had seen things no ordinary human could ever imagine. Tall, beefy Rhino men in space suits looking for a blood sucking alien. Powerful witches who used poetry to wreak havoc on the past. Great, big cities with terrible traffic infrastructure and misguided individuals who became her kidnappers. A cat nun serving penance for her crimes and a big face creature that spoke telepathically to them. Every day was a new adventure and it never ceased to amaze her, the surprises that lay in store for them each new place her and the man went to. The student in Martha wanted to see and touch everything, and to learn how things worked outside of planet Earth, but the compassionate human in her wanted to understand much more than that. This man she was traveling with was anything but alright and she desperately wanted to know why. If she didn't know any better, she would say this man needed a doctor.
Since she'd been on board, not once had Martha seen the Doctor truly smile, or even laugh. He put on a good face, giving fake half-smiles, when necessary, for sure, but it was like something was missing. Martha couldn't put her finger on what it was though. As soon as each of their adventures concluded, he made sure she knew where she was going and then walked into the room with the golden rose on the outside, not saying a word other than to wish her a good night. There was this perpetual sadness about him. It was like she could see it, feel it, almost even taste it. It practically permeated the air around him. She didn't really know the man, but she knew that clinically, something was very wrong. One as kind and caring as him deserved to be happy. The Doctor was anything but. However, it wasn't long before she began to understand what ailed him as their most recent adventure came to a close.
Martha had been nabbed by Milo and Cheen and taken down to the motorway where she briefly feared she may have to spend the rest of her life. It was awful. Smelly, cramped, and of course, beyond frightening to think she was never going to get out, but the Doctor had managed to fix it, just like he had the other times. He was quickly becoming someone she could depend on, that was clear.
Walking into the Senate, Martha began to think that things were not as okay as everyone had hoped. The skeletons that littered the ground in front of her took her by surprise.
"DOCTOR!" She yelled, more than a little freaked out. She stumbled over something behind her on the ground. It was another skeleton. She gulped.
"Over here," a voice said quietly. His voice. He sounded sad. She gasped and looked up. There was light coming from the far side of the room, through a window. Walking over towards the light, Martha found the Doctor leaning over a creature on the floor. Upon closer examination, she realized it was a face.
"What's that?" Martha knelt on the ground next to the Doctor and the face, curiosity getting the better of her.
"It's the Face of Boe", he replied, with a sad smile. The first real smile she had ever seen from him. "Say hello, don't be shy." Martha looked at the creature before her and felt a pang of sadness of her own. He was dying, but there was something else. She knew she couldn't possibly know him but felt as if she did anyways. Martha pondered that for a moment. The feeling was almost intuition. A gut instinct that she knew she shouldn't ignore but doubted anyways.
"Do not discount your instincts, Martha Jones. We will meet again in your future." A voice spoke in her mind. Martha jumped and looked toward the Doctor, who nodded. "He cannot hear me, but he understands that I am speaking to you. I am the Face of Boe. I am a telepathic being that has been alive for far longer than you can imagine. I am dying now. I will be at peace soon." The Face of Boe blinked contentedly before fixing Martha with a grave stare. "There is much you will discover. Some good, some bad. You must weather the storms that approach, or all is lost. You are important, Martha Jones." He blinked again slowly, this time, a soft look stealing over the ancient being's face. "You may not understand now, but you will. His sadness will not be everlasting. He has lost something dear and only Time can heal the wound. Do not endlessly torture yourself attempting to correct the error. It will only lead to more heartbreak and suffering. I must now speak with the Doctor. I wish you well, Dr. Jones." Martha's mouth fell open with the new information given to her, but she nonetheless nodded towards the dying being and scooted backwards to allow the Doctor a moment with him.
"Legend says the Face of Boe has lived for billions of years. Isn't that right? And you're not about to give up now." The Doctor kneeled forwards, putting his hand on the Face's cheek.
"Everything has its time. You know that old friend, better than most." Martha saw something flash in the Doctor's eyes at the Face's words. Pain, again. But then, something sparked.
"We know each other, don't we? You're from my future and I'm from your past. That much I can guess at. Isn't there anything more you can tell me?" The Doctor pleaded. The Face looked contemplative for a moment and began to speak again.
"You and I both know how hard it is to put death off, even for a moment." The Face chuckled, and then grew serious. "I have seen so much. Perhaps too much. I am the last of my kind, as you are the last of yours, Doctor." Martha's heart stuttered upon hearing this. Suddenly, the Doctor's behavior made more sense. The Face of Boe shuddered, quickly losing his strength. His time was nearing.
"That's why we must survive. Both of us. Don't go." The Doctor huffed a breath, looking more than a bit emotional.
"I must. But know this, Time Lord. You are not alone. When the Renegade returns, so does Time." With that statement uttered, the Face of Boe released a breath and closed his eyes for the final time.
The Doctor sat back, almost as if in shock. Martha rested her hand on his shoulder, trying to see if he was alright, but failing to completely understand what had just happened. The sentence the Face of Boe uttered and his subsequent death had seemingly rocked the Doctor to his core. Martha wondered if he knew what any of it meant. The cat nun, Novice Hame, began to quietly sob. The Doctor and Martha, looking at each other, took that as their cue to leave. Somebody would take care of the cleanup, but it wouldn't be them.
Eventually, they made it back to Pharmacy Town on foot. Martha was surprised to see that all the mood sellers had packed up and left the area.
"All closed down," the Doctor sighed, wearily, rubbing a hand down his face.
"Happy?" Martha questioned, seeing no way he wouldn't be considering how he'd reacted previously to the mood sellers.
"Happy, happy. New New York can start again. And they've got Novice Hame. Just what every city needs. Cats in charge. Come on, time we were off." The Doctor started walking towards the TARDIS, but Martha couldn't make herself move. She had too many unanswered questions and she felt like if she didn't ask them now, she might not get another chance. The Doctor noticed she had stopped and slowly walked back towards her. Her heart raced. This felt wrong somehow. Intrusive. She looked at the Doctor, trying to determine if she really needed to know. One look at his fatigued face and sorrowful eyes told her she did.
"What did he mean, the Face of Boe? You're not alone. And there were other things. Things he said only to me. It made me realize that I don't know anything about you, really." Remembering the feeling of him in her head made Martha shudder just a little bit. It was a new experience; one she wouldn't want to undergo again anytime soon. She pushed the memory away and looked expectantly at the Doctor. He was eyeing her warily, evidently attempting to gauge her resolve. Finally deciding she wasn't going to let it go, he turned his attention to two chairs that had been left behind, pulling them closer together and offering her one. Upon sitting down, he sighed and began to speak.
"I lied to you before, when you asked about my planet, because I liked it. I could pretend. Just for a bit, I could imagine they were all still alive, underneath a burnt orange sky." He looked up at the sky, seeing something totally different than the fluffy white clouds above them. "I'm not just a Time Lord. I'm the last of the Time Lords. There was a war, for the sake of all creation. Everyone was lost. The Face of Boe was wrong. There's no one else." The pain in the Doctor's eyes was profound and haunting, never ending. It was the face of a man who'd seen annihilation and survived, racked with a planet's worth of guilt. Martha didn't know how he was still going if she was totally honest. She put her hand on his and crouched in front of him, offering her strength and compassion.
"I'm so sorry, Doctor. There are no words that could possibly describe that anguish and torment. I can't even imagine how you endure that day after day. I know nothing I could do or say could ever make that pain go away, but you'll always have a hand to hold as long as I'm around." She squeezed the hand she was holding but his response was not what Martha expected. Her last words evoked something in him. He nearly recoiled back at her words. The Doctor stared at her for a long, hard moment, almost as if he was seeing a ghost. Martha thought back to what the Face of Boe said and realized there was another piece to the puzzle. Coming back to himself, the Doctor extended a hand to Martha. Taking it, she allowed him to pull her to her feet.
"There's something you need to see." He simply stated, walking back to the TARDIS. Pushing the doors open, he waited for her to cross the threshold before approaching the console to put them into the Time Vortex. Turning around, he simply looked at her, searching her eyes for something. Martha didn't know what it was, but he must have found it because a moment later, he removed his hand from the console and gestured for her to follow him into the depths of the TARDIS. She moved quickly after him, not wanting to delay. She found the Doctor waiting with his forehead resting on the door with the golden rose, eyes screwed shut, muttering what seemed like a different language to himself.
Martha paused, evaluating the scene in front of her. Whatever was behind that door was sorrow that was entirely different to the pain of losing his people and his planet. This was recent. More recent than the war that took his home. The agony wracking his frame was a burning that torched the very atoms of his being. She had been surprised he had the strength to go on when she learned about the fate of his people and planet, but this distress she was witnessing was of an entirely different magnitude. There had to be a reason he was still standing. The Doctor's face relaxed and he turned his head in her direction.
"Inside this room is the key to my hearts." He stood up straight and turned the doorknob, slowly pushing the door open and stepping back to allow her entry. Martha tentatively stepped forward and walked into the room. She didn't know exactly what she had been expecting, but it certainly wasn't the picturesque red grass sea with silver trees in the background, nor the crystal-clear tomb with the ethereal-looking blonde woman covered in roses.