[martha folds her arms across the chest, leveling him with a very serious look. he isn't making much sense at all, and this is martha jones. she's not the type to just let someone get away with not making any sense at her, but appearing so hurt that she can almost physically feel it herself.

it hurts.

he is hurting.

it crashes through her, and she only just manages a word after a moment.]

Jack.

[and now she's going to argue, lifting her chin up and meeting his gaze with her own.]

That is not the way the world should be. I don't know what's happened. The last I remembered of our world was becoming a doctor and then I was thrown into Chicago for many years.

I lived a different life there, but that doesn't mean I don't care about what happened to you in the life and world I left behind. [There's a fierceness to the tone. Her arms fold more tightly across her chest, but she isn't backing down.]