written for LJ's comment_fic, prompt: Dr. Who, Martha/?, she locks the door behind her,
The fact that he hadn't called her?
The fact that he hadn't tucked his head outside of the blue doors, a grin on his face and a glint in his eyes?
Spoke more loudly to her than any words he could have used.
Their – his and The Tardis' – silent presence spoke volumes.
The man who had never been at a loss for words; who could talk his way 'out of' and 'in to' any situation he desired... had no words.
His silence called to her.
And his silence was the reason she stood just outside of the Tardis, so blatantly planted in her mother's backyard, key in hand.
She'd promised herself she wouldn't be sucked back in. Wouldn't just 'jump' the next time he appeared and tried to talk her into visiting some/time/thing/one.
But that was just it, yeah? This time, he wasn't trying to talk her in to anything.
He'd been there. In the garden, for a day. The blue box – silent as a tomb.
And it was his silence that spoke to her. The Doctor wanted/needed her.
Blowing out a puff of air, she centered the key in the lock, turned her hand and pushed into the Tardis.
The ship hummed warmly, purring a note of welcome at Martha's entrance before lighting a path down the hall that led to the sleeping quarters, wordlessly telling Martha where the Doctor was.
Pulling her scarf off and hanging it next to the Doctor's jacket – it smelled of him: cardamon, metal, a bit of tweed – she locks the door behind her.
Then, pausing just long enough to gently caress the Tardis' control panel, Martha headed down the hall to The Doctor.
To her doctor.