Smith and Jones

Hello everyone! I'm so sorry it's taken me so long to update this. Not only have I had exams and finishing school but I always find Martha extremely hard to write. Ergo I don't feel like this chapter is up to my usual standard but that of course, is up to my lovely, fantastic, brilliant readers! Please do review as it is extremely encouraging :)

The Doctor brushed the tears from his eyes with the back of his hand, keeping his head down so that Eleadora, striding in front of him, fiery ringlets bouncing, would not see. Unfortunately, he was taller than she was. So that when she turned her head to check that he trailed after her still, she did see.

"Oh, Doctor"

"I'm fine, really"

"But that's just it" she said, her voice suddenly coming from somewhere beside his elbow. "Your not. And that's what this is all about. That's why we're here."

She took his hand gently and he looked down in confusion, at how perfectly it fit. Holding a hand again reminded him once again of all those he had lost. Each and everyone of them. But still, he reminded himself, looking down at Eleadora's pretty pale face, warmed by her reassuring smile, at least I had them, for however brief a time.

"Better?" she asked. He nodded and they squeezed each others fingers tightly for a second. "After all, don't you think it's better to have a few days of something wonderful, then just be okay your whole life?" He looked down at her quizzically, wondering how she had known. "It's something Amy - one of us - will say one day." she smiled again.

"You're right" he confirmed, taking a deep breath.

"Come on." she gestured, pointing at the next portal.

The next thing the Doctor knew was grey. An overwhelming sense of solitude, solemness seemed to emanate from the very atmosphere. It was suffocating. He cast around, searching, begging for a drop of colour, some brightness in this sullen landscape. It was misty, which probably wasn't helping his first impression, misty grey, muted damp green and the promise of mud. Cement coloured buildings, neatly laid out roads and designated walkways, the whole place screamed army base. All of a sudden it was blatantly obvious why they were here.

"Martha" he said quietly, his voice filled with regret, almost as if he was calling her. Ironically enough, the lady in question rounded the corner. He didn't start towards her to hug her or apologise as he wished to, he knew it was pointless. He settled instead for scrutinising every detail of her, trying to tell if she was as happy as she deserved to be. Of all his companions, of all his friends, he qualified, Martha was the one he had disappointed the most. The person he had let down the furthest, all except one other – that girl, the one who was more than a friend, or a companion, he carefully kept from his thoughts as best he could. As best anyone can keep their thoughts from the person they never stop thinking about. The girl who kept him fighting.

No, he chastised himself, right here, right now, in the present, he needed to focus on Martha, the way he never truly had when he'd known her. She was so different, her dark hair longer, braided back off her strong face, though he was pleased to see that she wore her rings, which sparkled when compared with the rest of her simple, practical black attire. The shock of the difference in her, her lack of flamboyant style which he had always admired, was thankfully less than when she had summoned him to UNIT to deal with ATMOS, Luke Rattican and the Sontarans. Then, as now, he was overjoyed that she could smile, at him, hug him with the fond joy of reunion. Not like after the Master and the Year That Never Was. That hadn't made her strong, not the way she was now. It had made her hard. It had broken her.

"You once said that we break your heart. Hearts." Eleadora spoke up after the silence she had allowed him to observe his old friend, correcting herself, "But did you ever think, just once, that you break ours?"

"I know. God, I know. I-"

"Turned her into a soldier" he started as Donna's appalled whisper came back to haunt him. Literally.

"That's the thing Doctor" Eleadora continued as they followed Martha, who it seemed was making her final round before clocking off for the day, around the barracks. "You go off on your adventures, you led this happy go lucky life, leaving a trail of destruction in your wake, without a backward glance, without a thought for those left behind" Eleadora said this with a grave bitterness, acknowledging unflinchingly his shocked hurt at this old insult freshly inflicted by the embodiment of his loved ones. But her eyes, and the gentle pressure of her hand still clinging to his, told him, by that simple connection , in no uncertain terms, that she didn't want to hurt him. But it needed to be said. They had earned that right.

"And the thing you have to remember about those you leave behind...it does makes them hard. But Iris was right, you were right. You make us better. You teach us to stand up. To say 'no', to do the right thing when everyone else just runs away." It took him a second to consciously realise that it was Rose's voice addressing him, though judging by the tears pricking his eyes, he'd known all along. Eleadora's own eyes were unusually bright as well but she continued, steady, resilient, as Martha had always so brilliantly been "And, God help her, Martha Jones-Smith will protect you until her dying day. They both will"

"I kno- wait...what?"

The Doctor had been so absorbed in Eleadora he hadn't noticed that as Martha reached the gates, a man stood waiting to greet her. They embraced warmly and headed off towards a familiar looking SUV.

"Mickey the Idiot!"

"Defender of Earth. Mr. Jones"

"No!" The Doctor gasped in tender surprise. Eleadora laughed "Yeah", and the Doctor was blown away once again at the animation the transformation brought to her features.

"8 Months tomorrow." she confirmed. "They found each other through you. After all, who could Mickey talk to it about? Rose wouldn't even mention you after you left her in her old life with no explanation. And Martha? She loved Tom, but he couldn't remember the experiences of The Year That Never Was. She kept almost referencing the things she'd done with you, the things she'd seen in that year she travelled the world but of course he wouldn't have known. "

"UNIT's not exactly my way of doing things. Nor is Torchwood"

Eleadora nudged him in the ribs at that last point, but didn't launch into Jack's reformation of the Institute. She knew the Doctor. It wasn't Jack he had the problem with. Well, not as such. More the methods.

"They're freelance. Or at least, they're planning to be. Martha's finished with UNIT today. A fresh start, for both of them, where they know they come first" The Doctor's head twitched towards her with the emphasis she put on the words 'they know they come first'. And then it hit him as it had when Martha had left him; Martha and the 'Tin Dog' had run after Rose and the Doctor, silently loving them and getting ignored for their pains. Eleadora was right. They were right. They deserved to be with people who loved them and didn't constantly have their thoughts on someone else. Someone absent.

The scene before them dissolved, and repainted itself as a cosy London apartment, filled with gadgets, some of which were definitely alien in origin and medical related items; a House mug a phrenology head, Grey's anatomy as well as diagrams of Sontaran and Hath biology on the coffee table and a chemistry set with vials of what the Doctor recognised as anti-plastic in the test tube rack on a bookshelf.

"Coffee, love?" came Mickey's voice from the kitchen making the Doctor jump in the empty living room.

"Sure" Martha called back as she entered into view, carrying her laptop "But only if you actually wash the mug and I don't mean rinse, I mean wash." she chided good-humouredly "I'm just using your laptop"

The Doctor heard the gentle thud of a mug as it hit the bottom of the washing-up bowl "Don't read my e-mails!" Mickey shouted with a note of panic in his voice. A grin spread across Martha's features.

Just then, and despite her impassive expression, the way she focused on the domestic moment before them, the Doctor was sure that the fact that he could hear Martha's words to him inside his head was Eleadora's doing. "I always told her, I always said to her, time and time again, 'Get yourself out!' So this is me, getting out."

"Martha...and Mickey both got themselves out. Saved themselves. That's one of the many things you've taught us Doctor, to be so self reliant. We've found that it's a funny, old life, in the TARDIS and after it. But they found that they could carry on here on Earth doing what we always did. Together." she gave a little smile.

The Doctor realised then what she'd been trying to show him by making him watch Martha and Mickey's domestic bliss. It wasn't to make him feel guilty. It was to show him that his companions, his friends, had changed for the better after spending time with him. And that they could move on in their lives, pick themselves up after, he forced himself to admit it, after he'd dropped them. Look at these two he thought, look at Donna. The one adventure I can never have.

He took in their smiles gladly. He knew they had suffered. Because of him. But they had found love and a new lease on life too. The joy in their eyes at their domesticity was because, he knew, they knew now how rare it was, how precious. They had lived with him on adrenalin, had come so close to death.

"You help us to ensure that we celebrate life. In every way. The universe has to move forward. Pain and loss, they define us as much as happiness or love. Whether it's a world, or a relationship... Everything has its time. And everything ends."

His hearts jolted at Sarah Jane's words. His Sarah Jane. His Martha, his Mickey. Eleadora's warm fingers interlaced with his again, her green eyes startlingly vivid as 'You'll see them again mister" she reminded him as the happy couple began to be replaced by someone else, the next in a long line...