Of dead team members, Slitheen eggs, and ridiculous foot chases...
Jack is not looking his best when he walks in. It's not anything about him physically that's really changed - though there is a bit of blood spattered on his face and coat and hands, none of it his. It's his expression, dark and closed-off, and rather pained
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She's been gone for three and a half months, which feel more like three and a half years. It's enough to change her. Amazingly, she's skinnier than she was the last time she was here. Her body looks more like a skeleton, but she has Asia and north Africa to blame for that. So many people in poverty already, there was nothing there, just death and starvation and pain and people struggling.
This entrance she's not scared and she's not running. No, she's walking. She's strong and determined and there might even be a little hope shining in her eyes. It's more for the benefit of the people she runs into than herself, but it looks incredibly sincere.
Martha opens the door just a little, seconds after it slams shut, and all she sees is him, "Jack?" It takes an instant to recognize the pain, the blood on his face, that something is very wrong in his expression so she wraps her arms around his neck and kisses him, hard, without another thought.
More happy to see him than she is to be in the Inn.
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"Not sure that I would, I mean if you want me to be more obvious about it..." She looks up at him, meeting his gaze and slipping her hands behind his bare neck. "I really missed you, Jack. More than I can say."
Of course, she has no idea how long it's been for him. When she finds out, more clinging and kissing is likely in order (as if it wouldn't be, otherwise).
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"I don't think I have to say how much I missed you. And I'm not waiting that long to see you again, whatever it takes."
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Especially if the intensity of that kiss was any indication.
Martha presses her hand down his neck and against his back.
"How long has it been?"
Just because she's afraid, doesn't mean she won't face it.
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"A little over sixty years. Give or take. It's 2006 now."
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Sixty years.
"Jack, Jack..." Her voice is soft, heated, lips pressing against his neck and chin.
She doesn't know how he does it. Keep his sanity, that is. Any normal person would have lost it a long time ago and yet, here he is in her arms. Martha's fingers curl in his hair, a little possessively, but mostly protectively.
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But if he did lose his sanity, what then? It's not like he could just decide to end it all. He had to keep going because... there wasn't anything else to do. Literally.
Jack sighs against her lips and leans in toward her, shivering a little with decades of longing and loneliness, his hands tracing lightly up and down her back. "That is my name," he says, with a faint smile. "Good to know you've learned it."
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Martha kisses him on the lips, soft and sweet, before pulling her face back. Her hands are still curled around his neck. "I'm supposed to be getting you cleaned."
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Her heart starts to race, despite herself, nervous, because she knows she looks frightening and disgusting under there and suddenly, she's afraid he'll be repulsed by her- And God, it's such a ridiculous, girly, shallow thought that it makes her laugh, incredibly shakily.
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And if she's worried about him not wanting to be around her because of that... well, those thoughts should be dispelled, by the way he kisses her, fierce and warm, his hands pushing up her shirt and pulling it off in short order. It's only fair, since he's shirtless already.
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Martha smiles and presses the worries deep into her mind, though it doesn't take much effort with the way he's kissing her to forget, temporarily.
With his hands and his lips on her, it's easy to forget nearly anything. She helps with take her shirt off and then her hands slip around his waist, playing with the waistband of his pants, fingers shaking a little. Her heart is still racing.
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And he's generally better at keeping his head together at moments like this, so after a moment or two he unbuttons her pants, lightly sliding them down her hips. "You're beautiful," he whispers softly against her neck.
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It's the only time she's said it that she doesn't feel like she needs to hear it back.
Her other hand moves to unbutton his pants. One-handed! Maybe she's learning. Her fingers slide down with his pants as far as they'll reach without forcing her to remove her lips from his skin.
Martha thinks away both of their shoes, she slips her toes up his calf a little. The steam from the heated shower and his touches are enough to make her relax completely.
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He shivers a little at the feeling of her toes on his leg, and kicks off his pants as quickly as he can manage without breaking their kiss. And, still pressed lightly against her, his lips never leaving hers, he starts to back toward the shower, one step at a time, pulling her along with him step by step.
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She pulls away from his lips long enough to whisper, softly with a smile against his face, "Don't trip."
Not that she thinks he will. He's surely got a lot of experience with it, but still the last thing they need is a couple of concussions. Well, one concussion... Jack would probably break her fall.
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