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Once Martha is done with her goodbyes to the crew of the Pentallian and steps into the TARDIS, the anguish plainly visible on the Doctor's face makes her breath catch. Literally enough for him to hear the hitch in her breathing pattern and realise he's being watched. Unsurprisingly, the newfound awareness of having an audience prompts him to try to cover up his pain.
It's a clumsy attempt at best. Martha doubts the smile he puts on would even fool someone who doesn't know him. She happens to know him very well and as such has no intentions of letting it go.
"Doctor. Please talk to me," she keeps her voice low, gentle, but she knows he'll hear the undercurrent of steel in it, realise she's no more backing down from this than she did on New Earth.
"What is there to talk about?" the Doctor asks, and it would be much more infuriating if he wasn't looking down at the grating, mask of nonchalance cracking as soon as he puts it on.
The Doctor's defences aren't impenetrable, definitely not right now, perhaps not ever. He just needs some encouragement. And so Martha changes tack. Steps in closer to the Doctor. Waits just a moment to give him a chance to back away. Wraps her arms around him when he doesn't.
It's a slow hug, not like their adrenaline fuelled celebratory ones, when he lifts her off the ground and she clings on, jumped up on the high of them both still being alive and largely unharmed. No, this is an embrace optimised to last. It doesn't take the Doctor long to start relaxing into it. He does so incrementally, but that's alright. Martha is in no rush.
His exhale is shaky where it ruffles her hair. Martha snuggles closer.
"I almost killed you," the Doctor whispers. "I almost killed you and here you are, holding me." His incredulity doesn't cover up how broken he sounds.
"You saved my life. You only came so near to that sun because you were saving my life. And as long as you still had control over your actions, you fought not to hurt anyone," Martha says it evenly, sure.
"But I should have had control over my actions the whole time! I'm a Time Lord, I should-" he chokes up and Martha takes the opportunity to step in.
"It was a sentient sun, Doctor. How many Time Lords did you know who've successfully fought off a sentient sun?"
"I- none, but I've never heard of a sun possessing anyone, before. Maybe it wasn't possible to expel it, but I could, I should have at least held out longer, if only I wasn't so weak-"
Hearing the Doctor call himself that, when he's the strongest person she has ever known, snaps something within Martha, and glad as she is that he is willing to voice his vulnerability, she can't stand to listen to him putting himself down any longer.
"Doctor, you aren't weak."
He tries to draw away at that, but Martha just holds on tighter.
"You don't know me well enough yet, if you truly think that." He sounds bitter, but way too resigned for the comment to actually be cutting.
"What I think is that you don't see yourself clearly."
The assertion has the Doctor making a noise of protest, but a light, reassuring squeeze is all it takes for him to melt right back into her embrace, so Martha continues.
"Oh I know you're not perfect, or infallible, or even unreachably above a human being. But you're not weak, either. And you're not bad, or unworthy, or a destructive force. You're a person. The world isn't yours to carry. You aren't responsible for anyone's choices other than yours. And you don't owe anyone anything more than your best.
"I won't deny that you're a trouble magnet, but you do more good than harm and you always, always try. I knew exactly what I was signing up for when I decided to travel with you and I came along again and again because it's worth it. You make it worth it. Do you understand?"
By the end of her impromptu speech, Martha's heart is hammering in her chest at what feels like thrice a healthy speed, because it's a love confession more damning than if she'd just said those three words that deep down she knows he wouldn't say back. But with their bodies pressed flush against eachother as they are, she could feel his double heartbeat similarly picking up speed and his silent tears dripping into her hair, and god damn it he is worth it, he's worth this just being about him.
This also being by far the longest Martha has ever spent hugging someone. She's cuddled and snuggled up to people for longer, but that was sitting down comfortably or lying in bed, never standing and embracing like they're still doing right now. She's never even considered the possibility of an upright cuddle before. It should be unspeakably awkward. And admittedly standing still for so long after running all around the Pentallian isn't the most comfortable position Martha could imagine. Yet she doesn't want it to end.
Besides, she was determined not to be the first to let go from the moment she initiated the hug. Oh, part of her wishes she could see his face during this conversation. But Martha knows there's only so much vulnerability the Doctor can take and that would push it over the limit.
"Thank you," he whispers. His voice only shakes a little bit.
Martha hopes that one day he might believe her, not just be grateful. She's willing to keep finding ways to say it as long as he needs her to, and then some.
The Doctor gives Martha one last squeeze before disengaging from the hug and stepping back to his usual bubble of personal space. She lets him.
"So! Think I'll take a shower now, that space suit was all rubbery and- eugh. I can still smell it. And then, well, I suppose you'll be needing rest, but after, we can go somewhere nice and chilly. Perhaps the snowy mountains of Marinius?"
That's when Martha notices something.
"Doctor."
"Right, maybe not. Didn't like those locals anyways. How about the south pole of Alderso?" He could go on listing options forever, Martha knows.
"Doctor!" it's sharper this time.
"What?"
"You're trembling."
"Oh. That would be from the pain, probably," he says it offhandedly, like he doesn't see why it would be concerning. He probably really doesn't, is the worst thing.
Noticing Martha's incredulous expression, the Doctor hastens to clarify, "Nothing I couldn't fix with a quick trip to the medbay! I should probably do that before having a shower. And I was so looking forward to that shower," his tone turns mournful towards the end, sounding rather like a naughty kid coming to terms with withheld dessert being the punishment for their actions.
Martha calls on her sturdiest reservoirs of patience.
"I'm coming with you," she declares.
"To take a shower?" the Doctor practically squeaks.
Martha rolls her eyes. Sometimes she really wants to smack him. She would never actually do it, but the temptation occasionally arises.
"No, to the medbay." Then, gentling her tone, "let me take care of you."
The defensiveness melts out of the Doctor's stance, his eyes going all soft and adoring in that slowly-becoming-familiar way Martha still isn't entirely sure she can take.
"I- Okay. Yes. I would like that."
And Martha knows they are going to be okay.