SOOOOO, It's been over a YEAR since I've touched this fic and for that, I'm sorry. Hopefully this makes up for it. I started this right after I finished Coming Down, but then I got caught up in a wormhole of Sleepy Hollow fics. Blame Tom Mison.

Also, I haven't actually written anything for a while and I'm feeling kind of rusty. If it shows in this fic, I apologize. =(

When the Doctor woke, he was alone again. He'd have thought that it was all just a vivid dream, had he not woken up in her bed with her scent all over him. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and pulled a hand over his face. The night before, she'd looked at him with such affection. They'd made love without a hint of remorse or regret and with such passion that there was no doubt in his mind that his feelings were reciprocated. Well at least at the time.

So why hadn't she said it back? Why was he naked and alone in her bed instead of going another round or trading saucy morning after banter? He pulled on his trousers and let the TARDIS lead him to where she was. Part of him wanted to demand answers, while the other wasn't quite sure he was ready to hear them.

Suddenly, he had no idea what he would say. He knew- and he knew that she knew- that this was more than just a simple one night stand. They went deeper than that. They had crossed a line that could never be uncrossed. It was the stuff of Greek tragedies and legends, what classic movies and trashy novels were made of. And yet, there were no words, not in any she could possibly understand, that could express how he felt about her, how much he loved her, feared her; how much the idea of us scared him shitless.

He found Martha in the kitchen, drinking coffee and fully dressed. When she looked at him, he saw in her eyes no regrets. But he didn't see anything else either- none of the love that he thought he saw the night before, nor the longing that he'd seen in his years of traveling with her. Only hardened resignation stared back at him.

"Good morning." He said, finally breaking their awkward silence.

"Good morning, Doctor." She said with a thin smile. "Back to Earth then?"

It was a demand in the form of a question. He knew that this simple inquiry was just a delicate way of saying that she was through. He knew that he should choose his words carefully.

But he didn't. The Doctor had never mastered subtly and Martha Jones had never really been delicate.

"I don't want you to go." He said with finality. As if it was a decision that he was entitled to make.

"Yeah? Well tough. You can't always get what you want." She said, returning to her coffee.

"But I don't understand. I thought you understood. I love you."

"What do you want? A trophy?" Martha said with a flat, even tone. No emotion shown in her usually expressive eyes. "You love me. So what? I love you too, Doctor. Now, if that's all, Doctor, I do have a life to get back to." And with that, rose from her chair and breezed past him to leave the kitchen. But before she could make her escape, the Doctor reached out and grabbed her arm. Turning her toward him, he met her with an icy glare.

"Martha, you don't love him. You can't. Last night-"

"Last night was a mistake." Martha said quietly. Suddenly, she couldn't meet his gaze. "It was nothing. I have a fiancé, Doctor. I'm getting married in a month." Her voice was thick with emotion and it was then that he realized it.

Fiancé: she didn't simply speak the word. She wore it like armor; carried it like a shield that kept him at bay.

"Don't say that!" He could practically feel the conflict boiling inside of her. Why couldn't she see how much she was hurting him? How much she was hurting herself? Why did she resist him so?

"I know you felt it, last night. I felt it too! You feel just as strongly as I do. We love each other! Please Martha. We can be happy. We can be together." He held her hands in his, hoping his words of love would be enough to sway her. And for a brief and shining moment, it seemed as if he was winning her over. Her cold shoulder had warmed considerably and now when she looked at him, he saw not the disdain or tedium that had been all but evident minutes ago, but all the wonder and adoration of the young woman who had expected the universe.

It was then that she remembered herself. Coldness crept back into her, and she snatched her hands from his.

"Do you not feel anything for me anymore?" The Doctor asked quietly as her hands slipped from his. This, more than anything else he may have said during their short exchange, seemed to get her attention.

"What do you want from me? What do you want me to say? That I'll always love you? That I felt like nothing? That my life didn't have a purpose without you?" She spat. He had never seen her this angry. "Do you want me to say that I was never so at home as I was here? That you're so beautiful that it breaks my fucking heart? No. I won't." She stood before him, shaking her head.

"You'd be surprised, Doctor," He cringed at the way she spat his name, like an expletive. "You'd be surprised by just how little love matters in the grand scheme of things. You taught me that."

She left him there in the kitchen, in the wreckage of a bomb dropped. His hearts ached even worse than before, for now he knew the full extent of the damage he'd caused. She wasn't just being stubborn, as he'd known her to be at times. She was legitimately afraid of loving him. Just as he had been all those months ago. A woman of science, she'd taken his feigned indifference as fact.

He piloted them back to Earth silently. While Martha kept up appearances and tried to keep the last bit of cordiality between them both in front of Donna, The Doctor made no effort. He didn't look at the pair of women, who were chattering about who-knows-what, making the transition from new acquaintances to old friends.

The Doctor was simply numb- only looking up from his task when he heard Donna ask, "Are you sure you can't stay?" Only then did he feel the pang of relief (tinged with regret) when she declined. When she finally exited the TARDIS, the numbness returned.

Much to his chagrin, this stony detachment only lasted a few hours before, late into the night, his visions came back to torture him. He was left tormented by his own solitude- the memories of her ever-present and even more vivid than before because now he knew firsthand the smell of her; the taste of her. He now knew the feel of her beneath his fingers and the arch of her back and the bite of her tiny fingernails. He knew that sound that she made when he pressed her into the mattress and found that spot- a sound that he could have only imagined up until that point. He knew the heave of her chest as her breath quickened and heart pounded against her flimsy, fragile human frame.

Night after night, there was no reprieve to his restlessness; no sating his lust or quelling his grief. Martha was haunting him, and he often had to actively keep himself from wondering if he was haunting her the same way and oh, how easy it would be to just go to her right now. So, to ward off these painful thoughts and terrible ideas, he continued to do what he always did: he carried on. He ran away. And, above all, he did everything he could to stay awake. After 2 solid weeks of running, Donna decided that she was no longer willing to keep up. The plucky ginger at his side demanded a break. No, a proper vacation- with sun and sand or, at the very least, a heavy-handed bartender. When he asked her, "Why now?" her response was, "Hell, I've earned it!"

The Doctor felt nothing but dread for the impending lag in their adventuring but, if he was being completely honest with himself, Donna had more than earned a break. She'd been a trooper. She hadn't asked about his night with Martha, nor did she mention the argument that ensued the morning after, though he knew that she knew. She always knew.

She never tried to soothe him or make him talk about his feelings. And most importantly, she kept up with him. She ran alongside him without complaint (well, without much complaint). It was in these moments that he realized- not for the first time- how much he truly valued her. Super-temp indeed. If Donna Nobel wanted a break, she was getting one. And he knew the perfect place.

Midnight. It was a glittering, blue oasis just dripping with decadence. The planet itself was completely incrusted with diamonds and oozed luxury- so much so that it made Donna swoon and The Doctor infinitely uncomfortable.

Everything was a jagged wave of sapphire blue and shimmering sliver stretching upward and outward as far as the eye could see. Of course he could fit right in, acting like he owned the place was his specialty. He just didn't want to: he wanted to be out in the universe, getting into heart-pounding and dangerously distracting situations and surviving by the skin of his teeth. He was right at home in the thick of a crisis. The prospect and promise of staying out of trouble didn't hold the same appeal for him as it did for his lovely companion.

Upon checking in as Dr. and Mrs. Smith, Donna immediately crashed on the silken blue sheets on one of the two large beds.

"Thank you, Doctor. I know how hard this must be for you. This staying still."

He waved her off, telling her it was nothing but looking out only upon the blue, poisoned diamonds of the planet's surface through the resort's thick, protective glass. He stood at the window, even long after Donna had left for the hotel spa, staring out upon the shining blue- a silver glacier pushed through a glittering blue ocean somewhere in the distance, forcing tiny blue shards up and along its body- but he saw only himself reflected. Billions of tiny points, all wearing his face and pointing angrily, perilously at the sky as if in accusation: You ruin everything you touch.

He looked up at the Xtonic sun. It was a blue-white ball of ball of power, but there was nothing warm about it. Its deceptively sweet, blue-white light was nothing but cold poison.

The two days after that went agonizingly slowly. Try as he might, he could not get his companion to accompany him to any of the excursions offered by the resort. They spent full days apart. She in the spa or at one of the indoor pools and he on any one of the many side-trips offered. The duo often didn't see each other until the end of the night when, collapsed in their side-by-side beds, they talked about their day.

Donna Nobel- bless her heart- never spoke of the incident with Martha. The Doctor never bothered to trouble Donna with his revelation: his light, as hot as it burned, was poison and soon he would ruin her too.

On the fourth day, he happened upon a bus tour. A Sapphire waterfall. A waterfall made of sapphires. An enormous jewel, the size of a glacier. It was supposed to reach the Cliffs of Oblivion, and then shatter into sapphires at the edge and fall a hundred thousand feet into a crystal ravine. But before he would get a chance to see it, his entire world would turn to ashes in the blue light of the poison sun.

I hope you enjoyed it! PM me with ideas on what I should do next. There are quite a few ides floating around in my head and it's hard for me to settle on just one. But there are only about 2-3 more chapters left. I WILL FINISH THIS! Let me know what you thought of this chapter!

xoxo, LPL