Weth's just found out he's a Time Lord! Oh shit.

But she's also been repeating a fundamental truth of the universe (or at least, of whatever is driving Weth's operation) that the Doctor will now use to undo what she's wrought!

The undoing isn't ready to happen just yet, but the seeds are planted... I think you'll start to see where it's going, and I think you'll like it!

(Quick note about the formatting: I know that long quoted passages are supposed to be indented, and I did so in my original doc, but could not figure out how to make it stick, once I converted it here. I indented every line by hand, by using the damn space bar, but when I saved it, it went back to the way it was. Grrr. Hopefully it's not too hard to read!)

Enjoy!

TWELVE

"I know how to find her," he had said.

"Oh darling, no you don't," Weth had replied.

She had shown her hand a bit there; it was a mixture of fear and determination.

His confidence had obviously rattled her, but she was not going to give up the guise. So, she had pivoted, changed her tone, and begged, "Please. Just stay with me."

He'd have none of it, of course, and had left her office in a hurry…

It was that weird thing that she had said: you and I will win. This was a turn of phrase that made him wonder if she had got his number, had realised that he and Martha weren't just a married couple with problems. At the very least, it was a phrase that betrayed that she thought of herself and Martha as being on opposite sides. She thought of this as a fight.

Whereas before, she had tried to pretend that she and "John" had simply fallen in love, and Martha was the unfortunate, unintended victim.

Whether she truly believed "John" to be on her side or Martha's remained to be seen… though he suspected that she didn't quite know what to believe, and that's why she was terrified now, and making mistakes. Like pulling Martha into the Platform dimension without "consent," and shooting off her mouth like she did today.

But now what?

Now that he had strode out of the office with gusto, and returned to the TARDIS, he regretted saying he knew how to find her. For two reasons, actually. One, if Weth in any way thought that he knew what was up (and it was possible that she did), then he had possibly shown his hand. And two, it had given him an assuredness that he really didn't deserve.

Because yes, in theory, he knew how to get Martha back.

But in practise… well, if he knew how to do this sort of thing in practise, his life would be very, very different.

And arguably, Weth wouldn't have been able to snatch Martha out of this reality.

Just before she changed the "game" by declaring you and I will win, she had said, "I've told you before, darling. A true partnership is a rare thing, and cannot be severed. You and I would never have secrets, or things that went unsaid."

It wasn't the first time she had beat this drum, of course. She had once said to him the word synergasm, which was something like a state of total honesty between partners. It also seemed to include a state of bliss. True partners had it. Therefore, their Mocthos could not be exploited, because there was no Elephant in the Room. The central conflict at the heart of a pairing had been worked through, thus allowing them to give themselves to each other freely, in a way that nothing could tear asunder.

And most tellingly of all, Weth had "forbade" her clients from trying to work out their issues on their own. She had told them that once the door to therapy has been opened, the troubles in the marriage should only be discussed here.

Which didn't make any bloody sense, from a therapy standpoint. But it made perfect sense if you were trying to keep your clients from becoming truer, stronger partners.

Martha had tried to warn him that Weth was getting too close to the truth with that "hung up on the ex" thing. He had, over the past day or so, realised that she had been absolutely right.

And so, he knew what he had to do, but only vaguely how to do it.

He needed to address Martha. Talk through their issues, and make the Elephant disappear.

He fully understood that things were changing within him, with regards to Martha. Since she had been gone, he had been beating back panic surging through him, having revelations about the nature of her company, and what it meant that he was, in fact, hung up on former companion. That former companion's memory and very essence in his life was naturally clinging, sticky like honey. It ensured that he was frequently in a state of neurosis over her, their lack of closure, the potential that had been lost. And it had taken this debacle to show him that suffocating, syrupy quality.

But Martha's friendship, her presence and love were fruitful, refreshing, and something he wanted. It was time.

He had been suppressing, for now, the dawning realisation that she was more than just "helpful." More than just a travelling companion. More than just someone he had to pretend to love in order to get things done…

If he thought about that now, he would make himself sick with anticipation and anxiety. Conventional wisdom would tell him that he could not afford that. He needed to stay focused.

But nothing about this Hilde Weth fiasco had been conventional.

"So, think about it, Doctor. Go ahead and freak out… I guess," he said aloud, as he paced around the console.

Let yourself feel. Let yourself get worried sick.

There were feelings between them, clearly. There had always been a glint in her eye, but she had always kept him at arm's length. And for his part, he thought she was brilliant, of course, and frankly, one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen. Impossibly sexy, and she seemed to know it. She was also kind, resourceful, funny, fun-loving, amazing in a crisis…

But he was heartbroken, wasn't he?

Was he, still?

Well, yeah, sort of. Moreover, he was afraid of it happening again.

But he couldn't be afraid now. Martha's very existence depended upon it. If he stayed afraid, he'd lose her forever, so he had to be brave to keep her, and it seemed… oh so daunting. Because in spite of the glint in her eye, the flirtation, he still didn't really know what was inside of her mind. Clearly, his "hangup" was annoying to her, and if he was honest, he knew that she had a bit of a crush on him. Would that clarify or complicate things, in the end?

But how to make it right, how to really get to the heart of the issue?

The TARDIS groaned.

"Of course," he breathed. Then he scrunched up his nose and said, "Can I really do that? That's… that's… well, it's a violation of privacy, isn't it?"

The TARDIS groaned again.

"Yeah, yeah, I want her back, but…" he sighed. "Fine."

It felt wrong, but he jogged down the hall now, and went to her room. His hearts were pounding; he was nervous about what he might find, he was apprehensive about breaching Martha's trust, but he was absolutely terrified that he'd never see her again.

So, he stepped into the space she called her own in the TARDIS, a four-poster bed in the middle, high ceilings, lots of shelves with books. And the touches that were uniquely Martha: a little pile of shoes at the foot of the bed, the bed itself unmade and the lavender sheets visible (this was her favourite colour), the mess of open and shut DVD cases strewn over a credenza right in front of the television.

And a journal on the nightstand. The TARDIS knew about it because it had given it to her, hoping for a personal chronicle of life in orbit. He knew about it because he had accidentally put his hand on it when he'd come into her room to apologise for something or other, and because Martha had not been the first to receive such a gift from the vessel.

"Please forgive me," he whispered to it before picking it up.

He opened it, and as expected, found page after page, in her not-very-doctorly, even, slanted hand. In purple ink.

He read through entries only to get a sense of what was happening in them…

"Shakespeare," he said to himself. "Face of Boe, Talullah, Solomon, okay…"

He flipped through a few more until he saw the name "Weth," in entry number 18.

I'd love to begin this entry with a date, but I have absolutely no idea what the date is. Haven't had since I stepped foot in the TARDIS… how-ever-many months ago. I'm only marginally sure of the year, at any given moment.

So Entry #18 will have to do. As the TARDIS wanted, I'm keeping a chronicle of my side of things. This is the first I've written on dealing with Dr. Hilde Weth, marriage counselor-cum- Tertia Trochos whose real objective is to break up partnerships, not "counsel" them. Here's my take.

It went on to describe Martha's second appointment with Weth, which she attended solo, as an experiment, pretending that "John" had refused to come because he was upset about the previous session.

Dr. Weth had not been surprised, as "Men in particular get a bit sensitive when we do what they perceive as perhaps attacking their feelings."

Martha's comment on this was, "Don't I know it."

He sighed heavily, a bit irritated at Martha's response. He remembered her having told him of this bit of their conversation, and he had been irritated then, too.

But why?

He wasn't afraid of his feelings. Was he?

He continued reading.

"Did the two of you have a conflict after leaving my office last time? A row?" she asked. "Have you been intimate this past week?"

I hated that question, and I thought about saying no. The Doctor would probably want me to say "no" because there needs to appear to be more unrest. But I don't think the Doctor fully understands just how much fucking UNREST there actually is in our not-marriage, not- relationship, maybe-friendship, not-definable-partnership…

"Oh, no," he breathed, and he pulled one hand down over his forehead and face. He read the previous paragraph again, then said aloud, "Unrest. In our not-marriage, not-relationship…"

Martha went on to tell Weth that their intimacy had not suffered, but that "John" hadn't liked being "put on the spot," and wasn't listening to her, which let Weth know that she had hit upon something important.

I felt like I needed the Doctor's advice, but he wasn't there. And anyway, he was perhaps the one person in the universe who COULD NOT give me advice in this particular situation.

(It's worth mentioning here, that this is the Catch-22 of my recent existence. My personal Mochthos, the 'central conflict' of my life, is literally the one thing I cannot discuss with the person I trust the most. I trust him with my life, but not my heart. I suppose he knows that he holds my life in his hands a lot of the time, but not that he holds my heart in them also.)

His stomach hit the floor. "Oh, Martha," he whispered.

He had trapped her, without even knowing it. They were close, but not close enough for her. Almost worse than not being close at all.

Weth and Martha discussed "John" not being over his ex-wife, and how it keeps him from giving himself fully to the marriage.

"It's tempting to wonder if he's using the marriage as a refuge for his pain. The way some people use alcohol, he is abusing your love."

That hurt to hear, even though it's fake. All fake… right?

"No," he found himself whispering. "It's not."

And that surprised him.

His mind wandered back to New New York when Martha had taken him to task for bringing her to the same place he'd brought Rose. What was wrong with it? "Ever heard of rebound?" she had asked him, and not gently. He had thought it a bit of a non-sequitur at the time, but he saw the sense in the comment now.

Except Martha was no rebound girl. Woman. She was not a refuge for his pain. At least, she was not a place where he could hide from his pain. She was a place where he could… what?

Be comfortable with the pain? That wasn't quite it.

Bring his pain, live with it, and receive help with releasing it?

Perhaps.

But was he abusing her? Or more accurately, abusing their friendship? Their not-marriage not-relationship thing?

Perhaps.

Stringing her along until he got bloody well good and ready to do something else?

More than perhaps.

Waiting for their relationship to bear fruit? The metaphor was apt for him, but how had he not seen that the fruit had been ripe for her, for quite some time? Had he simply not wanted to see it?

He groaned at himself. The Elephant in the Room was becoming bigger and clearer, and he couldn't quite believe he hadn't seen it before. He needed to know more, and had to press on.

Next, rather aptly, the Doctor thought, Martha quoted Weth as calling herself an "emotional archaeologist," and Martha liked the metaphor.

"Are you suggesting digging into this on your own, at home?"

"Perhaps, with your help. You could give me some strategies, some…"

"Oh, absolutely not," she interrupted, quite serious. "Once you have opened the door to therapy, and someone like me has unearthed the problem and exposed the nerves of the relationship, it is extraordinarily treacherous territory to try and tread unprepared. The nerve centre is vulnerable. It takes a professional to coax it to health."

And the Doctor held in his hand the "nerve centre" of their relationship. Everything laid bare. And he was suddenly aware of how lightly he must tread.

But could he afford that?

Next, she had reported her "findings" to the Doctor, who had remarked that Weth's rules made no chuffing sense, and they should regroup and build a new strategy for the next appointment.

This conversation had happened only a couple of weeks previously… he remembered it. Martha had clearly been carrying a huge weight after talking with Weth… why hadn't he seen it in her eyes? It had to be there. Had to. A person doesn't carry around this burden without it showing up in their features.

Of course it was there. It had always been there.

Tonight at dinner, I think I'll bring it up, and suggest that we pivot again, maybe go back to the concept that my family thinks he's "some schmuck" (his words, surprisingly) and it causes all sorts of unconscious angst. Because I don't think I can go on pretending that this "he's hung up on his ex" thing doesn't bother me, when we're on down-time together.

First of all, it bothers me because it bothers me for all the usual reasons.

"All the usual reasons," he mused as he read it, needing no help as to what those reasons were.

But it's also bothering me precisely because it's what bothers me! Because as I have told the Doctor, IT IS TOO CLOSE TO THE TRUTH. (Not that he cared – he acted like it was a ridiculous notion and never brought it up again. I have no idea what to do with that just now – why is he not worried about it? He should be bloody well worried!)

"You were right. And I knew it then," he said. "God help me, I knew it then."

Had he been able to feel things changing between him and Martha by then? He must have been mightily frightened to have shut her down repeatedly.

What followed was a few paragraphs' speculation about whether the Doctor and Martha would be able to withstand the split between "John and Martha" when the time came, if Weth got her hooks into the truth about their central conflict. If she knew the right "button" to push.

And as much as I hate to admit it, that button is Rose. For all intents and purposes, the Doctor's ex. And as I figure it, his obsession with her, her disappearance, the apparent lack of closure, the potential never realised with her, et cetera et cetera, is a big reason why he keeps me at arm's length. At the very least, he's afraid of it happening again. Whether it's what keeps us from being TOGETHER together, I don't know. But it's definitely what keeps me on- edge all the time, wondering what's on his mind, wondering if he sees me, or just sees through me. Sees what once was. Sees someone inadequate in her shadow, perhaps while imagining what he'd be saying and doing with Rose, if she were standing in front of him, instead of me.

I'm terrified that the fact that Weth has worked out, by accident or not, the Doctor (or "John's") Achilles heel, will actually drive us apart as a partnership, somehow. More than it already has.

And goddammit, underlying all of this is the fact that we are not TOGETHER together.

But we have to pretend to be, and that is bloody painful. The fact that I'm hopelessly, to-my- own-detriment in love, and he either doesn't know or doesn't care, has never been more at the forefront of my mind and heart. The fact that "our relationship" is being talked about all the time, that we're pretending it's something it's not – we're pretending it's something I'd like it to be, and I have to pretend to be all right with it.

The pain was palpable.

Not TOGETHER together.

This was not a crush.

It wasn't just a little attraction she could shake off. It didn't seem like a flirtation. It wasn't cute. It wasn't something they could ignore… not anymore.

Brushing off Martha's feelings had allowed Hilde Weth to sink her teeth into them, into Martha, and might cause her to be lost forever. Just when he needed her the most. Just when he was discovering how much he truly needed her. Just when he worked out that he needed her as a partner in every possible sense…

The Doctor swore. Then, took a deep breath, and said, "Okay. What else?"

He went onto the next entry.

More about Weth not wanting them to explore their own issues outside of her office. Martha reading mild trauma on his face after his visit with Weth, during which she had got him to talk about fantasy, and had groped him, coming on extremely strongly. He hadn't been ready for that, and had felt vaguely as though he were actually cheating on Martha somehow. He remembered that at the time, that the sentiment had seemed inexplicable.

But in this entry, Martha expressed chagrin at the idea that Weth thought she was "getting the better of" Martha by snogging her "husband" behind her back…

It can't be a pleasant feeling, even if it is an undercover investigation of sorts.

"This is the part that's not real, Martha," he said.

The next entry began with a strange Victorian turn of phrase that made him smile. Martha had been imitating one Brontë or another, expressing a desire to see the end of this investigation, not least because it was leaving her to do nothing but read Victorian literature. She described herself as "miserable," which was like a punch to the gut for the Doctor.

Things changing…

And for Martha, the act was wearing thin. It was not just fatiguing, but actually hurting her. To pretend, to be left out, to pretend and pretend and pretend.

To pretend, when you don't have to pretend… the Doctor had never contemplated that sort of state of affairs before, but there it was.

The Doctor and Weth were constantly "stealing" glances at one another, then at me, in an almost choreographed arrangement of "Is she buying it? Can she tell what we're doing? Does she see us looking at each other?"

She even asked if we were one-hundred-per-cent certain of each other's fidelity. I decided to throw them both a bone, look at the Doctor with a smile, and say, "Yes. Even if there's nothing else to be certain of."

(I received praise for that answer later on.)

"God, I'm such an idiot," he muttered.

There was more to read, but he set the journal aside for now.

He reiterated inside his mind: there was nothing cute about this, nothing funny, nothing fleeting. It was love.

Love and pain.

Sometimes, they were the same thing.

But he could remedy that.

Love. He needed to give it its due – had needed to for longer than it was comfortable to think about.

Without it, Martha was lost to him, in more ways than one.

Well, look at that... the Doctor figuring it out. :-) I mean, he still has to be hit over the head with it, but we'll take what we can get, eh?

Been getting crickets again lately (!) so if you're reading, I'd appreciate if you'd drop me a line, and let me know your thoughts.

But one way or another, thank you for reading!