My Heart Was Left Behind

"I'll save you!" he cried, staring as he watched the woman he had grown used to seeing by his side trapped inside the detaching pod. He could see her desperately calling for him, her hands shakily banging on the glass without a sound. "I'll save you!" he repeated, louder, though he knew it was impossible for her to hear him. He felt despair crashing through him, those feelings of loss and grief something he didn't want to feel again. He wasn't ready to lose someone else. "I'LL SAVE YOU!" he screamed, but to her it was mere silence.

In his sleep, John Smith's brow contracted, closed eyes flinching as he experienced yet another one of these dreams.

She was gone, he had lost her. Once more he was on his own - the last of the Time Lords, cursed to be alone.

He jerked awake, blinking rapidly as he stared up at the ceiling. Once again, one of those dreams.. a dream in which he was a Time Lord, travelling across a magical world of make-believe monsters and impossible feats. Strangely enough, they didn't scare or confuse him. He felt safe, he felt like he understood them, even though he couldn't quite work out what it was he was seeing. But still, they remained familiar.

Sitting up in bed, there was a quiet knock on his door. "Come in!" he called, reaching for his dressing gown.

The aroma of tea and toast arrived as Martha Jones carried in his usual breakfast platter. She glanced towards John, noticing him wearing naught but his pyjamas. Her eyes widened and she quickly turned to retreat, "Pardon me, Mr Smith. You're not dressed yet, I'll come back later."

"No, it's alright, it's alright, put it down." Obediently, Martha made her way into the room, setting the tray down on his desk. "I had an extraordinary dream," he began, causing Martha to glance towards him. Doing her best not too look at him too long, she hurried past to open the curtains.

"What about, sir?" she asked, moving to the next window.

"Well, I dreamt I was this man, an adventurer. A doctor, apparently." As Martha hurried past to return to the tray, his eyes followed her. "You were there."

At this, Martha almost dropped the piece of toast she was picking up. "Me?"

"Yes. Looking very different to as you are now. Well, we both looked very different in fact. We were in some sort of machine, a contraption.. that was flying through the very stars themselves."

"I'm afraid that's not possible, sir," said Martha, keeping her gaze fixated on the cup below her as she poured in hot tea.

"No, you're right, of course not," he replied quietly, shaking his head to himself.

Setting the teapot down, Martha added some sugar to the cup before she rested the teaspoon on the saucer. "There you are, sir."

"Ah, thank you, Martha," he said, straightening off the desk and coming over to his prepared breakfast. Helping himself to a slice of toast, he took a bite out of the bread. Martha made her way across the room to begin tidying his bed for him. Turning, John studied Martha as she smoothed his pillow down. "You've been a good servant to my family, Martha. I'm glad you came to Farringham with me."

"How do you mean, sir?"

Sipping from his tea, John contemplated. "I find I get on with you rather well, even if you are only a housemaid."

"Oh, thank you, sir," said Martha, rolling her eyes whilst her back remained to John.

"No, really, I mean it," he replied, smiling.

Turning from the bed, Martha managed return the smile, "Thank you," she repeated. She glanced at the doorway before taking her leave. "I'm afraid I must return to my duties. Good day, sir."

It was hard for John to keep from bumping into Martha, despite their different job positions. When he came out of class she was on her knees scrubbing the floor, when he ascended the staircase to his quarters she was dusting the banister, when he was fetching some books from the library she was polishing the tables. Quite simply, he couldn't avoid Martha Jones, and he found himself looking forward to seeing her face. It was something he couldn't quite put his finger on, but ever since he had been having these strange dreams, he felt much more connected to Martha.

Martha too was pleased to see him so much. After the Doctor had stored his memories and being inside that silver pocket watch, she had promised to look after him as they waited for their pursuers to die. He in return had asked her to make sure that he didn't abandon her, and with seeing him so often, Martha was finding what she thought was to be an impossible task, rather easy.

Of course, she did not appreciate the position the Tardis had put her in. A lowly housemaid who spent most of her days on her knees scrubbing floors and receiving scathing comments from the snobbish private school boys. But, she had to be aware of the era, and how her position was viewed in society. After all, there wasn't much longer left to spend in 1913.

Exiting a classroom, John once more had several volumes piled up. He called it 'light reading.' Martha was crouched next to the banister, polishing the spindles when she heard the soft thud of a book hitting the carpet. Seeing naught but his black cap from her vantage point, Martha smiled benignly to herself. "I'll get that, sir," she said, dusting her hands off as she stood to her feet.

Peering over the top of his leather-bound pile, John smiled brightly. "Ah, there you are, Martha. No worry, I've got it," he extended his foot to trap the book under his shoe, then failing to work out what he had planned to do next. Martha watched with an amused smile, trying not to laugh as he struggled to get the book. "Hold on," he said, passing her the large stack of books. She quickly took the pile off of him, watching as he bent to pick up the book and returned it to the top of the stack. "There we are. No harm done."

"Not at all, Mr Smith."

"How are you finding the day?"

Martha shrugged as best she could, "Oh, you know. Not bad. Spent the past two hours on my hands and knees, but I'm well."

"Well, yes, that's not the most comfortable position, is it?"

Glancing to the books, Martha gestured towards him. "I seem to be holding your books, sir."

"Ah, yes, you are. So sorry." John leant forward to take the books from her, and soon enough was struggling with the pile.

"Look, why don't I take half?" suggested Martha, taking off five of the books and holding them to her chest.

With the weight eased, John chuckled quietly. "Brilliant idea. Brilliant. Perfect division of labour."

"We make quite a team," said Martha with a smile. Only usually, their team wasn't about carrying books, it was about intergalactic space travel across time and dimensions.

"Don't we just!" John said, with a bright grin.

Ensuring the books were not falling anywhere anytime soon, Martha returned her eyes back upon John. "Where were you heading?"

"Er, to my quarters actually."

With a nod, Martha turned on her heel, carrying her portion of books. John followed her, feeling a lot safer without the mountain of books pile over his face. Passing through the corridors of the school, they reached the door to his study, and Martha allowed them both inside. "Where shall I put them?"

"Oh, just there, on my desk. That would be fantastic."

Making her way across the office, Martha lowered the pile of books upon the desk, a worn looking journal catching her eye. Its pages had been left open, slightly covered by other books, and she could see an ink sketching of the Tardis entitled 'Magic Box.'

Coming by her side to deposit his own collection of books, he noticed her wandering eye. "Is everything alright, Miss Jones?"

"Oh, yes," Martha replied quickly, straightening and backing up from the desk. Why did he have a drawing in the Tardis? What else was in that book? What if the information in it attracted those who were chasing the Doctor?

"Martha? Are you sure you're well?"

Retreating, Martha made her way towards the doors, "Honestly, sir," she said quickly, suddenly feeling a great need to distance herself from him, as though he may suddenly remember who he was and ruin the plan.

"Martha!"

"I must go, sir!" she said, exiting the office and quickly shutting the door.

Not far along, Jenny was carrying a broom and she came over at seeing Martha. "Eh, you! Coming out of the Master's study again. People will be talking!"

Martha smiled a little at the teasing. Jenny was the only person making this whole thing tolerable. "I helped him carry some books back to his room, no big deal."

"You're still sweet on him though," added Jenny, chuckling as she moved off to carry on with her chores.

A bashful grin crept across Martha's face; she subtly shook her head to herself, turning from the door to the Master's study and departing to continue her work.

He was running at a fast pace, but this time in a black dinner jacket. He was running from something. Something terrifying. He hurtled around a corner, and there she was again, Martha Jones, dressed in a black gown that showed far too much flesh. It was only a split second glance before they collided into each other, and he grabbed her about her waist. "What are you doing here?" he asked, stunned.

"I'm returning this!" she said, handing out the strange item he had seen before in his dreams. A magic pen of sorts. "I thought you might need it."

"How did you -?"

"I heard the explosion and guessed it was you."

Putting the magic pen in his pocket, he stared at Martha. "I blasted Lazarus."

"Did you kill him?"

A loud rumble sounded to his left, and he quickly looked over to see one of the most horrifying monsters his dreams had contained so far. Gigantic creature with several legs, crawling towards them like a humanoid spider. With one great leap, it flew towards them, glass shattering as it climbed onto their landing. "No, just annoyed him instead!" he exclaimed, his hands grabbing onto her waist as he urged her ahead and they both burst into a sprint.

The dream shifted, fading out into another scene, another day. Martha was stood before him, dressed in a laboratory coat as she stared up into his face with a bemused, searching expression. He had no idea what possessed him to do such a thing, but he leant forward, grasping her cheeks and he launched into a forcefully deep kiss.

John jerked awake at the knock to his door, his eyes flying open and staring about him. He rubbed his head slowly, trying to understand his bizarre dream. He had never kissed anyone he knew in his dreams before. "Come in," he called, as the knocking persisted and Martha herself walked in with his breakfast. It had become second nature to find him dishevelled and in naught but his pyjamas, and the woman didn't bat an eyelid as she carried in his tray of food.

"Good morning, Mr Smith," she said rather cheerfully, moving off to open the curtains.

"Good morning," he replied as he slowly stood to his feet, pulling his dressing gown on but not bothering to tie it as he moved over to help himself to a slice of toast. Martha hadn't yet prepared it for him, but he buttered himself a slice and tucked in. "I had another one of those dreams," he said quietly.

Glancing back, Martha turned from the window, surprised to find him already eating his breakfast. "Oh?"

"Yes," he replied softly, walking across the room slowly as he continued to hold his toast. Reaching the fireplace, he slowly let his hand drift over the silver pocket watch that sat there. A sudden flash engulfed his mind's eye.

He was staring into a dank urban street, the air tingling with the scent of rain and rotting trash. A loud scream grabbed his attention, and he spun round to see Martha grappled from behind, a gun to her head. "Let her go! I'm warning you, LET HER GO!"

He quickly pulled his fingers back from the watch, staring down at it.

"Sir, you were saying?"

John quickly looked round towards Martha, staring into that very same face. "Er, yes, sorry. My dreams." He frowned as he watched her, "You were there again. In fact, you were there all night."

"Oh, that's very unlikely, sir. I'm sure you have better people to dream about." Martha bashfully avoided his gaze and hurried to the breakfast tray, pouring him a cup of tea.

But John followed her over in a few quick strides, and he rested his hand over her own, causing her to lower the teapot. "Why is it you plague my dreams so, Martha Jones?"

"I honestly don't know, Mr Smith." Carefully, she pulled her hand out from under his, glancing up to find him at close proximity and watching her intently. "I'm sorry," she whispered quickly, pulling away and departing at a hurried pace.

John's eyes followed her out, right until she swiftly shut the door behind her exit. He sighed quietly, mentally cursing himself for his brash behaviour. It was then that he realised, that ever since he had been having his dreams about being a Time Lord, he had been growing closer to Martha. It was as if she was the same woman he saw in his dreams, bright, assertive and beautiful. But yet he knew that women he saw before his eyes every night could not and would not be the same one who spent her days scrubbing the floors and running around on orders from her superiors.

No, the woman in his dreams was a character unheard of in this time. She was a strong, confident woman, who wouldn't be told what to do by anyone unless she wanted to. She would defend herself and those around her to her death and would never let anyone make her do otherwise. It was actually rather scandalous, and yet he found himself thoroughly captivated by the woman who led his mesmerising dreams.

"I must apologise, Martha," he said later that day, coming down the staircase to see her cleaning the windows. Stopping on the next landing that joined remaining steps downward, he turned to watch her. Martha lowered the cloth from the window, peering towards John slowly. He was carrying a large stack of books again and she could only just see his face. He had an earnest smile on his face as he watched her. One thing Martha was thankful for, was that ever since he had changed into a human, he still held a smile for her when the rest of her superiors wouldn't.

Stepping back from the window, Martha held the cloth with both hands. "For what, sir?"

Lowering his voice a little to not attract unwanted attention, John spoke. "For my improper behaviour towards you earlier. Please forgive me for being so familiar, Miss Jones."

"It's alright," said Martha with a shrug, barely managing to conceal her grin. "I'm glad you treat me differently."

"Well, yes, of course," John said with a bright grin. "Despite what others think, I do find myself acquainting you as a good friend to the family. I understand how many may feel about that, but I say look beyond the job profession and look at the person, don't you agree?"

It was now that Martha chanced her luck. Turning, she gestured to the school's notice board behind her. "Sir, I was wondering if you had heard about the annual dance at the Village Hall tomorrow. Are you going?"

Blinking, John turned his attention to the flyer pinned up again the velvet. "Well, I hadn't really thought about it," he answered honestly.

"I don't know if maids go to these things, but I think it'd be a good laugh, don't you think?"

"Well, I should imagine, I mean.. I never thought you'd want to. There's no reason why you shouldn't. You might not, I probably won't," he began to ramble animatedly, a trait very familiar to the Doctor. He was backing up as he said this, as though looking for an escape route. "Even if I did, then I couldn't, I mean, I wouldn't want to – "

Martha quickly noticed he was getting dangerously closer to the steps behind him. "The stairs!" she said quickly.

"What about them?"

"They're right behind you!" she made a desperate lunch forward to try and grab onto him, but he suddenly teetered backwards, plunging down the wooden flight of steps with a tremendous crash, books and papers flying everywhere.

Abandoning her duties, Martha hurried down after him, where he lay on the hard floor. His cap had skidded across the floor, and he was left sprawled and disorientated. Arriving by his side, Martha quickly placed her hand to his cheek to summon his attention. "Doc – John? Can you hear me? John!"

He groaned quietly, slowly moving his head as he peered up at her. "Martha?"

She smiled as he blearily peered up at her. "John, look at me. I need to see your eyes, focus on me." He did as asked, smiling weakly as he watched her. "You're alright, you've not got concussion, probably just a nasty shock and bump. I'm going to take you back to your room and check you out properly." Carefully, she supported his weight, lifting his arm and looping it about her shoulders. With everyone having gone to their classes, the school's corridors were empty. It was a lot easier for Martha, because she knew she would be questioned carrying a dazed John Smith to his room instead of to the Matron.

Arriving at his quarters once more, Martha helped him inside, taking him across the room to set him down in his chair. "Maybe you should fetch Matron," said John quietly.

"No, don't worry, I've got it. I know quite a lot about first aid," assured Martha came she came round behind him. Carefully, she tilted his head forward, inspecting the small cut in the back of his head. "It's only a small wound, so I'm just going to bathe it and it'll be fine."

"Martha, are you sure – ?"

"Yes!" she said adamantly, giving him a finalising look that she was surprised she didn't get reprimanded for. After her small outburst, she quickly turned her head, "I'm sorry," and she moved over to the sink to fill a bowl with warm water. Carrying it back to his desk, she set it down, plucking out a clean cloth from her apron and gently dabbing it in the water. "This may sting a little, but it's for your own good," she assured, lifting the damp finger and carefully began to mop away some of the blood.

He winced quietly at the contact, but Martha gently held her hand against his face to steady any movement. The pain subsided with her gentle motions, and he was able to sit quietly as she dutifully cleaned the wound. "It seems you have many talents, Miss Jones."

"I do," replied Martha with a shadow of a grin, cleaning the tip of the cloth before she resumed her tender dabbing. She moved her hand slightly to encourage him to bend his head forward a little more, her fingers gently splayed across his cheek and jaw.

"Please don't take offence for my behaviour on the staircase."

"You seem to be doing a lot of apologising lately, sir."

She was glad to hear a gentle chuckle be breathed from his lips. "Yes, that seems to be the case, doesn't it? Well, I meant that it might have seemed I was a little unforthcoming in your conversation about the dance at the Village Hall, and I assure you that wasn't my intention."

"So, what is your intention?"

"How very bold of you, Martha."

She hesitated for a moment, but from her vantage point she could see the small smile on his face, and resumed her cleaning. "I think not, sir. Straightforward, maybe, for both of our sakes."

"Yes, quite," John agreed with a chuckle.

"So, your intentions?" encouraged Martha, her smile now apparent even if he couldn't see her face.

"Well, if you wouldn't mind, not that I'm saying you would. It's your choice of course, but if you would then that would be wonderful. But, please don't think I'm forcing you into a decision, that's not what I am trying to do, you don't even have to answer, well, it would be wonderful if you did but – "

"John," Martha interrupted, pulling the cloth back from his head. She leant down by his side with a proximity she hadn't dared to reach before. "You're rambling," she whispered.

He blushed, and Martha grinned. "Yes, I am, aren't I? My intentions were that, if you wanted to go, then, naturally, you need a chaperone."

"Do I now?"

"Martha, playing hard to get? How improper."

Stepping back from his cleaned head injury, Martha moved across the room to empty the water down the sink. "So, I need a chaperone, and are you by any chance hinting that you might be the one to chaperone me?"

"How eloquently put," John replied, watching as Martha stood at the sink.

"How close am I?" she asked, grinning as she looked back round towards him. Their conversations were feeling more and more natural.

He shrugged, standing to his feet as he removed his gown and gently laid it over the back of his chair. "Rather close."

"And, you're sure you don't mind taking a mere housemaid out in public?"

"Martha, you and I both know there's more to you than that."

For a moment, she was on edge. "What do you mean by that, sir?"

He closed the distance between them, but Martha remained still. "I do believe there's a reason I see your face in my dreams, Martha. Just as there's a reason as to why I can't get you out of my head. I just.. I can't stop thinking about you." Acting on impulse, he lifted a hand slowly, gently brushing the back of his fingers across her jawline.

Martha couldn't help but stare up at him, rooted to the spot as she felt his fingers touch her so delicately. She tried to think logically. This wasn't the Doctor, this was John Smith. But the great problem was, John was feeling for her the way the Doctor wouldn't. Was it so bad to indulge? Surely there would be no harm done? He was initiating this; she was merely going along, right? Thoughts trundled to a halt when he took her by surprise, by gently placing his lips to her cheek, following a tender path towards the corner of her lips before finalising his location.

It was a touch and taste he recalled from his dream, as he gently pressed closer to kiss her.

Though initially hesitant to respond, Martha slowly leaned forward into his embrace, arms slowly lifting to drape about his shoulders. Drawn in closer, John continued to kiss her slowly, his fingers stroking back from her jawline and carefully drifting to the nape of her neck.

An abrupt knock to the door startled them both apart; causing John to sharply glance towards the door that had been left open after Martha helped him to a seat. In the doorway, stood Matron with a stunned expression across her face. Martha slowly slinked away from John, but the damage had been done.

There was a cold silence left hanging as Matron gave them both a stern, disapproving look before she turned on her heel and departed. Martha groaned quietly under her breath, slowly looking towards John. He looked rather abashed. "I forgot about the door," she whispered quietly, eyes falling to her feet. "I'm sorry."

"No, it's not your fault. I was the one who kissed you. I apologise."

"You don't need to apologise, sir," said Martha, slowly looking up at him.

She was relieved to see that he was smiling again. "I will talk to Matron. I will explain the situation."

"It's also nothing to do with her," added Martha.

John laughed quietly, resting his hand against her cheek. "That's Martha Jones. Standing up for what she believes in." It was a trait uncannily similar to the Martha in his dreams.

"So, I'll see you tomorrow, for the dance?"

"Indeed. I'll meet you in the entrance hall and shall proudly escort you on my arm."

Martha couldn't help but giggle as she watched his lips break into a cheeky grin. "Alright, I'll see you tomorrow," she leant up to plant a chaste peck to his cheek before she turned, hurrying on out with a smile. She closed the door behind her, sharing one last grin with John.

"Wow," gasped Martha quietly at the strings of her corset were pulled tightly by Jenny, who was helping her prepare for that evening's dance. Jenny tugged a few more times for good measure before tying up the remaining ribbon. Turning to face the floor length mirror, Martha studied the apparel she had bought for the dance. A long royal blue dress of lace and silk moulded firmly to her frame, of which was shaped by the well-fitted corset. "Isn't this a little too much?" asked Martha, attempting to pull the top of her dress a little higher over her now prominent bust.

Jenny swatted her hands away. "Not at all! If you've got it, flaunt it. Make sure that Smith knows what he's getting."

Martha laughed quietly at the fellow maid's words, pulling a periwinkle shawl about her shoulders. "Do I scrub up well?"

"You most certainly do!" chuckled Jenny, coming over and rearranging a few hairpins in Martha's bun. "He won't be able to keep his hands off you."

"I can handle that," replied Martha, amused. "What time is it?"

"It's almost seven o'clock! Quickly now!" she ushered Martha to the door, smiling brightly. "Have a good time, you deserve it."

With a bright smile, Martha nodded her head. "Thank you. I wish you could come.."

"I'm on duty tonight.. maybe next year, eh?"

"Yeah," agreed Martha softly, turning her head away. She doubted that 1914 would be a year for festivities. "Goodnight, Jenny." She departed from the bedroom, making her way down the staircase slowly. John Smith was already stood in the empty entrance hall, checking his appearance in a nearby wall mirror.

Reaching the ground floor, Martha cleared her throat quietly. John spun round quickly, his eyes happening upon the figure that awaited him. "Martha," he said softly. "You're almost unrecognisable. You look beautiful."

"You look rather handsome yourself," said Martha, unable to keep the smile from her lips.

"Shall we?" John asked, offering his arm for her to take. She smiled as she came besides him, gently looping her arm through his as they turned and set off out of the school to take the short walk down the country lane to the Village Hall.

Whilst Martha didn't know much about dancing, she was pleased to find John was able to lead her rather well, and at the same time teach her the moves. Hours later, she was able to carry herself well, and concentrate on the man stood before her rather than what her feet were doing. Despite how much she was enjoying herself, she was saddened to realise that the Doctor's time as a human was drawing to a close. It was nearing the end of their three-month stay in 1913, and soon enough the watch would open and return him to his normal self with disaster averted. She would miss John Smith, she would miss seeing the Doctor in a different light, and being seen differently herself.

They parted as the song finished, dutifully applauding the band with the rest of the dancers. "Would you like another drink, Martha?"

"Actually, I was hoping we could take a walk?" she suggested quietly.

John nodded, "I suppose it is getting rather late. Here, allow me to assist you," he stepped back towards their table to fetch her shawl, gently draping it over her shoulders. He offered his arm once more, and she obediently took it, the pair exiting out into the cool night air.

"It was a wonderful night," said Martha softly as she walked alongside him, eyes observe the star strewn heavens. It seemed the Doctor's plan had worked, and there were no aliens chasing him here. She was relieved it had been successful, for she had been very heavily relied upon during their time here. "I haven't done anything like that before," she admitted with a small smile, glancing shyly towards him.

"Well, we ought to do it more often," John replied, watching her with a smile as they strolled up the country lane back towards the school.

"Yes," agreed Martha quietly, though inside she was fully aware it was likely to never happen again. "So, did you manage to speak to Matron about yesterday's.. interruption."

John nodded slowly, "I did, indeed. I told her rather straight that it was my business to whom I bestow my affections upon."

"Really?" asked Martha, staring at him. "But.. surely she hates the idea.."

"Perhaps she does, but that is not of my concern," said John, taking her hand and raising it to his lips for a gentle kiss to the back of her hand. Martha smiled gently, moving a little closer to him as they continued to walk along.

Upon reaching the private school grounds, they quietly entered the building, ascending the deserted staircases. "You don't have to take me to my room," said Martha, as they passed his own quarters. "It's right on the top floor."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course," she replied, stopping and turning to face him. "Look, I just want to thank you for tonight, John. It was really nice."

He smiled down at her, and Martha could only yearn that things would still be this way after he changed back into a Time Lord. "It was." As Martha reached up on tiptoe to kiss him goodnight, he stopped her. "Perhaps out here isn't a good idea," he said quietly, as they had been caught by Matron yesterday. Raising an eyebrow, Martha slipped by him, opening his door. She pushed him inside with an amused chuckle, shutting the door behind them. "Well, that works better," John smiled, gently settling his hands to her hips.

Closing the distance between them, Martha slowly lifted her head to meet his lips once more. Pressing in slightly and encouraging a deeper kiss, she was desperate to experience it just this once before he changed back and like Cinderella, the magic ended at midnight. She sighed quietly against his lips as his arms tightened about his waist, feeling secure inside his embrace.

For John, the many dreams had led to this. He had been struggling to get her out of his head for many, many weeks and couldn't help but notice a strong, yet unexplainable connection between them. He felt infatuated; drunk, dizzy and stunned by her presence, and felt like she was the answer to everything as long as he had her in his arms. In his mind's eye, he saw the forceful embrace they had shared in his dream, something that now was real and tangible before him. He wasn't a Time Lord, travelling across the stars with this mesmerising woman. He was John Smith, an ordinary man in an ordinary village, but the woman was one and the same. He could see that now.

The soft chime of the wall clock echoed around the room, melodically pealing the midnight hour. So wrapped in each other's embrace, neither of them noticed the silver fob watch on the mantelpiece silently pop open. A soft glow of light spiralled out of the mechanisms, twirling upward in a delicate mist. Whispers of words the Doctor had spoken danced on the air, hearts and soul seeking their rightful place. They deftly melted back into his form painlessly, easier to return than they had been to part. Torn free kicking and screaming, his very soul could return peacefully.

It was like waking from a dream itself. The Doctor knew of his time as a human, barely, but hadn't been able to control John Smith's actions. Nevertheless, it remained a surprise to find himself in a tight, passionate embrace with Martha herself. Carefully, Martha eased back, the smile on her face impossible to remove. She looked up at him slowly, though faltered. He was looking at her differently.. his eyes suddenly told a thousand stories in a simple glance.

"Doctor?" she whispered softly.

He was still staring down at her. "Martha? What's going on?"

"You're back!" she cried, utterly delighted as she threw her arms around him once more, hugging him tightly. "We did it! The Family's dead!"

"Well, that's fantastic," he said, laughing quietly as he hugged her in return. "But, Martha.." he set her back on her feet, eyes returning to her face. There were a million questions he wanted to ask her, to ask himself.

"Look, I'm sorry," she said quickly, knowing what he was about to say. "I didn't plan this, I honestly didn't. But you, well, John, liked me. It was hard to not return his affections."

"Humans.." muttered the Doctor knowingly, in a tone that left his feelings to the statement ambiguous.

But Martha was greatly concerned now. "Doctor, please forgive me. I spent three months on my hands and knees scrubbing floors, John was the only thing that made this bearable. Don't hold it against me."

"I don't," he said softly, shaking his head. "But you have to understand that I had no control in human form and – "

"I fell in love with him," interrupted Martha suddenly, staring at the Doctor. She slowly stepped away from him, retreating anxiously. "I fell in love with John Smith."

"Martha.."

She turned from him, nervously wringing her hands. "We should hurry back to the Tardis, sir.. Doctor," she closed her eyes slowly at using the formal title. It would be hard to get back out of the habit.

"I understand it has been hard for you," he said softly as he came up behind her, slowly loosening the tie.

"You have no idea what it's been like," replied Martha quietly. Her voice was shaking a little. "John Smith fitted into society because he was programmed to. I had to act and pretend. I had to accept their customs and beliefs. You wouldn't believe the comments that got sent my way – so no, you don't understand how hard it has been, Doctor."

Stopping by her side, he watched her. "But I do understand that you have saved my life, and that without you, I would not have been able to escape the Family."

"Let's just go back to the Tardis, please Doctor," she said again, almost begging him this time.

"I'm sorry, Martha."

She glanced back at him slowly, "Don't you remember what he was feeling?"

"I can recall it rather distinctly," he began quietly. "And I believe that he too was falling in love with you, Martha."

There was a bitter laugh from Martha. "Well, it makes no difference now, does it? The three months are over, John Smith is gone. It's just you and me again."

"Yes," he said softly, "but John Smith was only ever going to be temporary, Martha. You've got me for a long time yet," he flashed her one of his cheeky grins, and Martha momentarily felt her heart lift.

"Really?"

He nodded in confirmation, extending his hand and slowly slipping his fingers through hers. "Back to the Tardis," he said, smiling down at her. She slowly returned it, letting out a sudden laugh as the Doctor burst into a run, pulling her along with him as the pair ran out of the room. They hurried on down the corridor, causing one of the doors to fly open with an irritated looking Matron staring out.

"What's the meaning of this commotion?"

"Oh, Martha and I are eloping and you'll never see us again," said the Doctor with a bright smile. "Bye!" he called, tugging Martha on down the staircase, leaving a flabbergasted Matron in their wake. They laughed loudly as they ran out of the building, crossing the fields to return to the Tardis and continue their normal lives once more, as the Doctor and Martha Jones.

An idea based on a 'what if' scenario for Human Nature! I hope you enjoyed it, please leave a review.