Title: Saved By a Kiss
Word Count: 656 [in Microsoft Word]
Genre: Fluffy Romance, Missing Scene
by James Swallow
Summary: At the end of their adventure in the American Old West, Martha and the Doctor share a hotel room for the night.
All your Doctor Who are belong to us
Sadly, I own nothing related to Doctor Who et al. I am just playing around in their sandbox for a bit of fun.
Author Notes: I read this book on my recent holiday in Italy and, though I tried working on another story, my mind kept coming back to the book -- especially the end where, along with Nathan [one of the main characters], Martha and the Doctor spent the night in a hotel before leaving in the TARDIS. According the text: “The Doctor sat on the balcony of the hotel where they stayed, watching the stars all night long. Martha and Nathan slept, and they did not dream at all.”
I kept thinking about what the Doctor might be thinking on that balcony after all that had happened and thus this fic [a missing scene of sorts] was born.
It’s probably better if you’ve read Peacemaker
already as this story has some pretty major spoilers for it, but it is probably not a necessity. YMMV.
Thanks so much to persiflage_1
who beta’d this piece. Any other mistakes are all mine. Feedback is happy-making, so please leave a word or two [even if I am a bit slack in responding, your comments always make my day].
The Doctor pressed his fingers against his lips, the blazing bolt from Martha’s kiss still seeming to tingle that tiny bit there – even after several hours had passed.Saved by a kiss,
He remembered that not too long ago in his past, he was killed with a kiss, but this time – this time when he worried that all was lost
– the sweet pleasure of lips pressed against his had instead galvanized and strengthened him when he’d felt most weak.Martha.
He’d almost lost her that day and just the memory of that suddenly tore with white-hot pain through his senses, as if burning him from the inside out. He’d not be surprised if she wanted to go back to her life in London after all of this, he thought shamefully, and there was a part of him that felt more afraid – more hurt
-- by that possibility than her almost dying.
(In that moment it was as if he couldn’t bear the thought of her living her life, day after day, on Earth without him, especially knowing that she’d run from him – from this life of his. And then, just as quickly, also in that moment, his walls crashed upward around him, working quickly to block those thoughts.
No, he had to deny such feelings.)
He moved from the balcony and into the semi-darkness of the hotel room. Though the nightmares were gone from the effects of the Clade weapon, Martha admitted to being somewhat afraid to sleep alone after looking death in the eye and asked him to share a room with her.
He’d obliged her, of course, knowing that he’d mostly be awake throughout the night anyway and that he could hide on the balcony from any temptation that might result in sharing her bed.
Still, nevertheless, he found himself being drawn into the room to her bedside. As he stood above her, he watched the soft rise and fall of her breathing beneath the bedclothes and the way her skin was colored by the swatches of moonlight slipping through the cracks of the window shutters.
His gaze then swept over where her gunshot wound once ripped at her skin and he felt his breath catch. He should have kept her safe, he should have never let her get shot, he should have –
The whisper shook him from his reverie and he looked over to see Martha blinking sleepily at him. “Is everything all right?” she added, her brow starting to furrow in concern.
“Yes, just fine. Go back to sleep,” he said softly.
“But,” she paused, swallowing heavily, “you’re crying.”
The Doctor reached up to press his palm against his cheek and felt the wetness there, surprised at the tears that were falling from his eyes. He felt suddenly abashed and looked away.
“Lie with me,” Martha said sweetly, reaching to twine her fingers with his.
“I should – “ he started, trailing off as he helplessly pointed toward the balcony, failing as he tried without words to tell her he needed to go before things got more…complicated.
“You should lie down. With me.”
“I can’t,” he replied, though his body seemed to contradict him – he was crawling into her bed beside her, shifting on his knees to lie by her side.
“You are,” she corrected, easing the blanket over him.
“So I am,” he said with a blush.
Martha shifted forward to wrap her arms around him, her warm body pressed against his. He stiffened at first – the contact too close, too intimate
– but then eased into her embrace with a heavy sigh.
“Good night, Doctor,” she whispered against him, her breath hot on his neck.
“Good night, Martha Jones.” I love you,
he added silently in his thoughts, before finally locking away his feelings again and letting himself fall asleep in her arms.
She’d not have any nightmares tonight – not if he had anything to do with it.