Ok, first of all – apologies to those who are waiting for an update on The Stuff of Legends, the next chapter is in the pipeline, I promise. In the meantime I had a couple of oneshots I needed to get down on paper, and here is one of them.
Everything is still owned by the BBC.
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The Right Moment
Hugging; cuddling; embracing.
Whatever one wants to call it, it's a singularly human thing.
Other cultures partake in it, of course. Other beings on other planets hold each other and press their bodies together for comfort, for security, for love. But humans seem to be the ones who do it with the most spontaneity; they are the ones who can go from screaming and shouting at each other, in rage and even hatred, to clinging on for dear life within a matter of seconds. It defines them in a way it defines no other species; it is an integral part of their makeup, their very humanity.
It's taken several companions and a lot of years, not to mention a couple of new bodies for the Doctor to reach the point he's at now. He's gone from a being who shied away from displaying affection, who saw it as beneath him, something to be avoided at all costs, to a man (yes, he thinks, man) who can see the value in wrapping his arms around someone he cares about and spending a few moments of time providing them with the physical contact they need.
Knowing when to do it though; that's a different kettle of fish altogether.
It's impossible to explain just how frustrating he finds this. He is a genius, a Timelord whose intelligence knows no boundaries and yet this simple concept evades him entirely, reducing him to little more than an awkward teenager. He fumbles around it, embarrassing himself by tugging Jo towards him when in retrospect she clearly wasn't expecting it (although she had never seemed to mind); cursing himself for not pulling Liz in to comfort her in the rare moments she'd desperately needed him to. It is something, he realises now, that requires practice. For a being such as he, it simply cannot be learned overnight; and that in itself is a concept entirely alien to him.
This, though; he is certain this is the right moment. Even in this skittish new body that he hasn't quite got the measure of yet (the legs are so long) and in the haze of regeneration energy, he is sure of it. He stands in the doorway to the TARDIS library and regards Sarah Jane as she quietly sobs into the cushions; he knows why she is upset, and he longs to go to her and reassure her, to let her know that in spite of appearances he is still him. But now confusion reigns; he has finally identified the right moment, but he is the wrong Doctor. He sighs and decides to throw caution to the wind, approaching the sofa and standing behind it, staring down at Sarah and feeling his hearts ache for her.
After a moment he reaches down and gently runs his fingertips through her hair, pulling it back from her face to tuck it behind her ear. Her eyes open, staring up at him and she attempts to control her tears, blinking and hiccupping, doing her best to hide her grief; so wrong since the object of it is standing before her, and yet so understandable. She sits up slowly, drawing her feet beneath her knees and dropping her gaze to the empty space she has created next to her in silent invitation, and the Doctor takes the hint.
As he sinks to the sofa next to her she gives him a shy little smile, and it feels so strange to have her look at him like that, like she doesn't know him at all. In this body though, it's all new to him too and he is surprised to feel a flicker of something, an urge he's never felt before. And there it is, the spontaneity that until now has always evaded him. And never mind whether it's the right moment, never mind thinking it through. He throws his arms around her and pulls her into his chest almost violently, her breath escaping her body in a gust.
He can feel her surprise, her muscles taut, her fingertips involuntarily digging into his side but he instinctively, inexplicably knows what to do as he brings his hand up to stroke the back of her head, his other hand gently trailing up and down her spine. Sarah smiles into his chest and he feels the tension slowly leaving her muscles as she relaxes into his embrace. He wonders if it is even possible for regeneration to bring about such changes in characteristics and makes a mental note to look into it later.
But it's becoming harder to care about the whys and wherefores. He has gradually shifted so he's almost on his back, and Sarah's warm weight is comforting against him. She moves with the rise and fall of his chest and he tightens his arms around her, pressing a kiss to the top of her hair and closing his eyes in contentment.
"I'm sorry." Sarah mumbles against him, and his eyes flick open in confusion. He lifts his head and she looks up to meet his gaze.
"Sorry? Whatever for?" he questions her.
"For being so silly. I know it's you, but I can't help feeling…" she breaks off and lets her head drop again, sighing into his neck.
"It's normal to feel a sense of loss, Sarah" the Doctor murmurs, tightening his hold again and resuming his gentle movements up and down her back. Sarah lets out a tiny hum of pleasure and the sound has the oddest effect on him.
He shifts his weight again under her and suddenly her face is above his, and she is staring at him with a mixture of fear and longing that he knows is reflected in his own expression. His hands slide into her hair and he realises her palms are pressed over his hearts. For a moment they contemplate each other, and then without even stopping to think he gently pulls her down to bring their lips together.
When they finally pull apart it is almost second nature to draw her back down, tucking her head under his chin. Sarah gently presses her hand to his chest and chuckles.
"Some changes I could used to." She whispers.
The Doctor is genuinely shocked to feel the hairs stand up on the back of his neck.
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Well, I hope you liked it, and if you did, please leave a review. Thanks for reading!