I really wanted to, but they would not let me. More to come.

It was late when she climbed the stairs to her old bedroom. Adric was snug in her arms as she made her way into the room. He was sprawled out on the bed, her double was going to be a tight squeeze, but the Martha that would have minded was somewhere lost in Tish's story.

Had he really loved her then? Had he always harbored some deep longing for her that she was never aware of? The questions had bugged her all through dinner, and throughout the night as her family swapped ancient family mythos. Stories that had been told over and over but never lost their magic. Christmas had become less of a religious observance for her, and more of a time for her to be with people who meant so much to her. But, intertwined into it now were new stories, not so old, but still funny and poignant.

And somewhere, somehow, the odd man with the funny mannerisms and current self-imposed amnesia had become a part of that family canon.

"He's so odd." Francine noted over her cup of tea as the family sat around the tree after dinner.

"He's even odder as a human." Leo added,

"He's not that bad," Jack defended. "Still loves you though." He said to \Martha with a tip of his glass.

"Jack!" Martha warned.

Tish nodded, "I have to agree with Jack. He is so whipped." Tish laughed.

"You would agree with Jack about anything." Martha shook her head.

"For good or bad, I have to say I agree as well." Francine chimed in,

Martha felt a rush of otherness. She was seated on the sofa with her family discussing someone she once assumed would be a passing entity in her life. Yet, he had somehow become ingrained into her life. For good or bad, she was stuck with him, at least for another year.

"Don't look so surprised, Martha. It's not as if it isn;t written all over his face." Clive added.

"Not surprised," she faked, noting she had become far too good at the faking in the last couple of years. "Just don;t need my love life discussed over family dinner, thanks."

Leo threw a pillow at his older sister. "Like you all didn't discuss my love life the year I announced I was getting married."

"That was different," Martha asserted differently. "No offense, but you were too young."

"Here, here," Francine offered over her tea. "No offense Leigh," she offered to her daughter in law.

"None taken," The small but pretty woman answered. "It wasn't anything my family hasn't said. Or, is still saying."

"But it is different," Martha pouted. "All the things we went through, have been through in this family because of him."

"Now, hold on a sec." Clive returned. "We went through a lot, but that is nothing to say that the Doctor was to blame."

"No, " Tish spoke up from her spot next to Jack. "I would definitely say that the Doctor was not responsible for any of it."

"If anything," Francine finished. "That wild man really has saved us a few times."

The family gathered around the tree raised their collective cups in a toast of agreements.

Martha shook her head and rubbed her eyes. "Still." she shrugged.

"That's not to say he doesn't have some odd ways." Tish smiled.

"Sexy ways," Jack added.

"Jack!" the room retaliated.

"What?" It's true!" Jack answered with a leer. "You are a lucky woman Martha."

She didn't feel lucky, in fact, under the scrutiny of her family, she wanted to crawl into the basement and hide, but it was out, and if she ran then it was a sign of both immaturity and weakness. Neither of =which would have gone without notice. Instead, she did what she could to steer the conversation away from her. "He is still rubbish as a human; don;t know how lucky that makes me."

"At least he isn't dismantling anything, or talking nonstop and putting weird things in his mouth to see what it is."Tish offered.

"Oh, when she says something like that, no one complains!" Jack pouted, but relished the laughter that followed.

It was the cheer she carried upstairs with her, nestled alongside the sleeping Adric in her arms. As she placed him in the fold away cot near the bed and slipped her shoes off, she stood for a moment and looked at him.

He wasn't the same man she had known for so long, and yet, he was. Tish was right, a lot was bleeding into his existence as a human this time. In Farringham, he wrote things into a journal and secreted them away, as if there was a shame in who he really was, or a need to hide it from everyone. This time, it was really different. He was really different. The Doctor wasn't some fantasy man that he dreamed of, in fact he rarely dreamed of anything fantastical at all.

She thought back to the conversation she had had with her mother earlier in the day, that her mother's assumptions of the state of her marriage were never questioned. He had asked for her permission to be with Martha, and Francine had given it. Past that, the assumption of a happy ending was everyone else's. That is, until Tish cleared things up.

There were no obvious declarations of his love; Tish never reported anything more than what could be inferred. But, it was there, and he felt it, at least in his real self. His real self loved her, and the knowledge of that fueled her thoughts and heeped into acceptance as she undressed silently in the darkened room.

She slid between cool sheets that smelled of him, reminded of the first time she had laid in a bed with him. "Budge up." she whispered with a nudge to the sleeping creature next to her. She had said the same thing to him then..

John made a small noise of resistance, but rolled onto his side, She watched him as he slept in complete oblivion. Did he run in his sleep? Did he see fantastic things that the Doctor had seen, but the human could not put words to? He snored softly at her side, the weight of him in bed next to her lulled her into her own dreams.

XXXXXXXXXX

It had been a nice visit. Christmas morning found a groggy but ravenous John, confused about his actions of the night before but bleary eyes under the side long glances and giggles often posed in his direction by the rest of the inhabitants of the house.

"Is there something on my shirt? A sign on my back?" he asked over his third cup of coffee as they sat in the empty dining room. Christmas brunch had ended, and the two sat next to each other while everyone was outside playing soccer. Martha didn't mind watching him nurse his hangover, in fact there was something about his

Martha made a cartoonish display of first looking at his face with her head cocked, then looking behind him. "Nope, nothing." She grinned and took a sip of her decaf. "Must be post drunken paranoia."

John ran his hands over his face and offered her a small lopsided grin. "Never drink with professionals."

"Too right," she agreed. Martha could not help but watch him with a different eye. He sat clutching his coffee cup and looking out the window as everyone worked off the large breakfast. Tish's story had opened a door, one she was not ready to deal with, but had left Martha with the desire to be close to him, at least physically.

John rested his head in his hands and sighed. "I'm sure I'll find out what I've done soon enough."

"Yup," Martha agreed.

They sat together in that sweet still silence, Martha's had wanted to go outside for the traditional football game, but John's dreadful demeanor actually kept her inside. He looked miserably over his third cup of coffee, and Martha could not help t smile at the stories that her family had told her of a funny John when he was in his cups. Her father swore that his impression of Francine was dead on, but Leo insisted that the impression was far too similar to that of the one he did of Winston Churchill.

The rest of Christmas Day passed in warmth and happiness. By the time they were loading up their Honda for the long drive home, Francine was trying to convince them to stay one more night.

"We would," Martha answered her mother with a hug, "But we only have one more day off from work, and I have a ton to get caught up on." Francine seemed to understand, nodded at her daughter's words, but relented in handing over the small infant. "Can't he stay for a bit longer?" she asked, only half joking. "I never get to see him, and you two are always in the middle of…" She eyed the pair and noted Martha's glare. "Busy."

"I promise," John offered, gently prying the small child from his grandmother. "That we will bring him around more."

Francine folded her arms. "We will see how long that promise lasts, John" Francine spat back as she hugged her daughter one last time. "Get home safe, it's Christmas night, so most folks are on their way home from eating too much."

"And drinking too much, right, got it." John smiled as he left to warm up the car. Francine took the opportunity to take her daughter by the arm and speak openly. "What happens in a year?" she asked in a whisper as if he could here from the circle driveway.

It hadn't needed to be said, it was the question that Martha had asked herself a thousand times an hour. She shook her head and shrugged.

"I mean, how are you two going to keep him safe in that crazy existence?"

Martha blinked twice, not sure if she had understood the question. In the ten seconds since her mother had asked the question, Martha had formulated a million different choruses of "Wait and see" and "I'll deal with it later, Mum." She did not expect the question to not be about her.

"Don;t stand there looking confused, Martha. I feel better right now with him not knowing who, or what, he is. When I think of all the danger you two get up to." Francine said with the expected shake of her head.

"Mum, it's fine. One crisis at a time, yeah?" Martha tried for a reassuring smile to go along with the pat she gave her mother's arm, but the smile missed placating and just rang as sad.

"That's right, Martha. Think about it later. Have you given any thought to if those things show up here?"

"Mum it's under control. Jack, Sarah Jane and I, we have a system, a series of failsafes..."

Francine shook her head again. "It's all fine and well until one thing goes wrong. I love that little boy, and so help me, if either one of you place him in any kind of danger I will not hesitate to do my level best to bring the wrath of God down upon you."

"Would not expect less, Mum," Martha answered with an honest smile.

"Just so long as you know." Francine gave her daughter a fierce embrace before opening the door to the cold. John tapped on the horn and with that, Martha stepped into the cold suburban London night.

The ride home was long and damp. The sky seemed to spit forth an endless torrent of rain that turned into big wet flakes as they reached Manchester. John seemed unaffected by the stronger weather as he maneuvered through the sluswhy streets, but Martha clutched her hands together in her lap after turning down the radio and another glance back into the backseat where Adric slept.

"You don't trust me driving?" he asked as they made their way through empty sodden streets.

She wanted to giggle at this, he often operated machinery without a proper license, but the fake him knew like to nothing of the real him, so all that sat in the driver's seat was someone who thought they existed. That sudden thought made her both sad and sobered. "I trust you," she offered, surprised herself at the honesty in her own words. She really did trust him, whether it was long simmering, or had just popped into her existence after Tish's admission, she was not sure. But, she did trust him, and that had to count for something.

They made their way into the darkened apartment with the silent intention of keeping the three month old asleep for as long as possible. Martha placed the kettle on the stove as John eased out of the nursery and shut the door quietly. "HE should sleep for about a month." John noted as he made his way to her side.

"That would be a Christmas miracle. " she smiled. "SO, holidays with my family, not as bad as you thought?"

He placed his arms around her and pulled her into an embrace that, for once, Martha sought no repose from. Before she knew it, she brought her lips to his and kissed him.

Hi response was instant and heated. John brought his hands to her waist and responded her kisses with ardor. Martha brought her hands to his head, but John placed his on hers and slowly moved away. "Martha," he spoke in a choked voice full of the passion that sat between us. "I can't stop."

"Then don't" she answered, advancing upon him again. John was faster, he took her into his arms and held her with his head resting on her shoulder. "It's been so long.' he hummed as they stood in the center of their living room.

"Feels like forever." She answered as he swayed with her.

He lifted his head and looked at her. "Are we going to be ok?" he asked. The passion earlier was still there between them, but tenderness had crept into the spaces between, ardent mutual longing that was palpable.

She nodded, her forehead resting on his. "For the first time in a long time, I want us to be ok."

He nodded. "What changed? Not that I am looking a gift horse in the mouth. I would never look a gift horse in the mouth. You look a gift horse in the mouth and they tend to bite. Hard." His eyes grew large and round. "Martha Jones, are you a biter?

She smiled shyly before speaking. "It's not any one thing that physically changed/." she answered. Opening her mouth to speak again, to try to explain the deluge of emotion she suddenly felt, she instead found words lacking.

John stepped closer to her, his eyes burned fire and ice and reminded Martha of a living sun, only the fever within was directed at her. He glared at her as if he wanted to consume every cell in her body, and the consumption was certain to kill her or, at the very least, leave her burning inside. "I want you." he whispered into her ear as if there were a room full of people.

She nodded dumbly at his words, Martha did not trust her own mouth right now. Either choice she spoke could betray some part of her. She could not deny how she felt about the Doctor anymore, and she could not deny the man in front of her wearing his face. It was a dichotomy of emotions that led her to nod her head and take his hand.

He leaned into her and kissed the back of her neck, an action that made Martha stumble as they made their way to the bedroom. He placed his hands on her waist and drew her close. His kisses traced a necklace of fire around her neck, and Martha responded with hands that traveled over his back. She pulled his shirt over his head and he moved his hands under hers.

It was an eternity of moments before they lay on the bed together, still half dressed; moments ignited b touches and kisses. Moments that lit both of them into a burning white light of desire. He hovered over her, his face a contorted mask of need, want, and fear. "Why does this feel like the first time for us?" he asked in a husky near whisper.

"It always has with you." she lied effortlessly, then hated herself for it. "I want you to know, John..."

He looked at her with an intensity that nearly made her speechless.

"I want you to know, that no matter what happens, no matter what. I am glad for this." she smiled.

"Why would anything happen?" John answered with another slow kiss. "This is what we do, right? I mean, Addy had to come from somewhere."

He studied her expression too long, and Martha had to look away. The truth often kills fantasy, and this time, John was quick to notice the switch. "Martha, what is it?"

Martha shook her head, "it's been along time..."

John moved off the bed and began gathering his clothes. "There is something off here." he answered in a tone that reminded her of his real self. "Something's not right." He stopped, holding his clothes in front of him in a defensive stance. "Martha, tell me, what is going on here?"

Martha moved herself to a sitting position against the tasteful headboard of their once shared bed.

"I love you." she tried.

John cocked his head to one side. "I actually believe you. And that is what makes this so much worse." He turned and left the room. Martha wanted to commend herself for not crying until she heard strains of Liszt drifting through the still open bedroom door.