Disclaimer: Don't own Doctor Who


"You can go through now."

Beaming, Jo Grant leapt up from her seat in the waiting room and made to follow the nurse who was directing her.

The past twelve hours had been some of the tensest of Jo's life – even more so than the hours leading up to her interview with UNIT. The Doctor had taken her to Bracrow, a rainforest planet with no bodies of water large enough to be considered oceans; rather, there was only the occasional massive fresh water lake. They had been aiming for Metebelis 3, but they had missed – again. Even so, once the Doctor had found out where they were, he had insisted that they stay to look around.

Jo was glad that they had – at first, at least. The planet was truly fascinating, with a climate so humid that Jo had to shed her jacket after only a few minutes (the Doctor had stubbornly kept his on, insisting that he was fine because Time Lords had a lower core body temperature than humans) and massive plants that reached higher into the sky than anything on Earth did.

Yet after half an hour or so of wandering through the forest – by which time they had found a path carved out through the trees which seemed to service as a road of some sorts – the Doctor had suddenly taken what could only be described as a 'funny turn'. He paled suddenly, and Jo could see sweat beginning to dot his brow when he had been seemingly unaffected by the heat and humidity before, but he stubbornly refused to admit that anything was wrong.

Yet as they walked, he continued to worsen, until they reached the nearest town and the Doctor all but collapsed onto the first public bench they saw, shivering and coughing pathetically.

Thankfully, the Saveng – the dominant race of Bracrow, who were bright blue and held themselves much like chimpanzees did, though they were considerably bigger than humans – were a helpful people, and several of them rushed over to help when they noticed that something was wrong.

One of the Saveng who came to their aid had insisted that they had medical training, and proceeded to check the Doctor over – by which point the Time Lord was on the brink of unconsciousness. The Saveng had then had diagnosed him with a disease that was native to Bracrow, but that most of the indigenous population were immune to. It also transpired that humans were immune to it; Time Lords, however, were not as fortunate.

The Doctor had been rushed off to the nearest hospital – which thankfully wasn't far, because they were already at a town – and put in quarantine so as to avoid contact between him and the other patients there, whose weakened immune systems may no longer have been strong enough to protect them, so that he could be treated. Unfortunately, quarantine also meant that Jo couldn't go in to see him until the antibiotics that the Saveng had given the Doctor worked to alleviate the worst of his symptoms – which they assured would happen overnight.

And so Jo spent the last 12 hours, unable to sleep even after the sun had set on this planet, alone apart from the other friends and family members of patients who were awaiting news of their own loved ones. Even though she had been assured that the Doctor would be fine once he had had his course of antibiotics, she couldn't seem to calm herself down, and she didn't think she'd be able to until she had seen with her own eyes that he was perfectly alright.

And so, when a nurse had appeared and informed her that she could finally go through to see him, she couldn't keep the smile off of her face.

The nurse led her away from the waiting room – which, after half a day, Jo was incredibly bored of and happy to leave behind – and down a series of corridors, deeper and deeper into the hospital, until they reached a heavy duty door that had a 'Warning' sign on it.

The nurse removed the sign, turned it over and stuck it back on; the other side said 'Do Not Disturb'. She opened the door cautiously, poking her head inside before opening it all the way and stepping aside, gesturing to Jo to enter.

The room beyond the door was not the biggest room that Jo had ever seen, but it was private and looked comfortable enough. It consisted of a single bed with a bedside table, two chairs either side of the bed – Jo assumed that there was one for the patient to sit in once they were ready to move around, and one for any visitors – and a window looking out into the forest beyond.

The Doctor was not in the bed, however; he was standing next to it, his previously flushed skin now having mostly regained its usual pale complexion, though his eyes were still slightly glazed over. When he had been brought to the hospital, he had been changed into hospital garb – though Jo thought that the gown that he had been given looked more like choir robes than something one would wear in a hospital bed – but it would seem that his burgundy suit had been washed and dried, for he was once again clad in his usual atrocious clothes, with his leather gloves sitting patiently on his bedside table.

"Doctor!" Jo exclaimed, grinning.

As she passed the nurse, she was vaguely aware of the Saveng closing the door behind her, but she wasn't paying much attention to anything other than the sight of the Doctor standing there with that small smile that he usually wore on his face as she made her way over to him. Jo took care to walk fast rather than run, for he still appeared a little weak and she doubted that he would appreciate being crashed into by an overly excited companion. She crossed the space between them in three long strides, and wrapped her arms around him, feeling the embrace being returned as a pair of arms reached up behind her.

The Doctor didn't remember much about the last twelve hours; he only really remembered feeling absolutely awful. The trouble had started about half an hour after they had arrived on Bracrow – which, again, was not Metebelis 3 – and he had noticed that he had begun to feel a little light-headed. He had dismissed it as a symptom of not having had tea for a while, for he had found that he had become rather dependent on the beverage during his years of exile on Earth.

Yet the truth behind his condition had turned out to have been much direr, and by the time they had reached the town, he had barely been able to see straight, collapsing onto a bench and beginning to drift in and out of awareness. He could hear Jo somewhere in the background, panicked and desperately seeking help for him, before he had blacked out, only to wake up in a quarantined area of the local hospital, still feeling terrible but marginally better thanks to the first course of antibiotics that he had been given while he had still been unconscious.

The staff at the hospital had explained the situation to him – and he was flooded with relief when they had informed him that the disease could not be contracted by humans, and that there was no chance that Jo could suffer from the same condition as he – and he placed himself in their hands, falling into a healing sleep aided by the antibiotics he had been given until he had begun to feel better.

When he had been allowed to change into his suit – which had been cleaned for him – he had been informed that half a day had passed since he had been separated from Jo. Even though he had not been awake for most of that time, he felt a pang of longing to see her again after such a long time of being separated, and he requested that she be allowed to stay with him in his room. The nurse had obliged, going off to fetch his companion as he waited behind patiently.

When Jo had arrived, she looked as though she hadn't slept a wink the entire night, though her sleep-deprived features were brightened by the beam on her face when she saw him – for the most part – completely cured. She crossed the room in three strides and attacked him with a bear hug, which the Doctor instantly returned.

The Doctor had hugged Jo many times since she had been appointed his assistant at UNIT, and she had hugged him many times as well. Yet none of those times had ever been inspired by a twelve hour separation, as this one had, and the difference was immediately obvious – to the Doctor, at least; though he conceded that it may have just been his over-thinking mind which was analysing the situation too closely.

Jo was clinging to him desperately, holding him tightly to her as though if she were to give him any slack then he would slip from her arms and she would never see him again. She had turned her head to the side, but her face was still buried in the ruffles of his shirt, so that he could almost feel her breath through the thin, white material.

What was even stranger, though, was that he was hugging her with the same level of desperation, holding as tightly as he possibly could without fearing that he was hurting her, his arms wrapped one around her middle and the other around her shoulders, so that she could have only pulled back far enough to look up at him. He had lowered his face to the top of her head, the tip of his nose as well as his lips pressed against her hair, and – as soon as he realised that, at some point, his eyes had slipped closed, he was certain that hers were closed as well.

So many things were present in that embrace: relief, peace, and comfort, along with a whole ocean of other emotions that were so intermingled with each other it was difficult to distinguish them so that they could be identified individually. Nevertheless, they must all have been positive, for the Doctor had a warm smile on his face, and he was sure that Jo must have done as well.

All of a sudden, the atmosphere changed, and this was no longer a peaceful time as a sharp pain shot through the Doctor's head. The nurse had mentioned to him that he would probably need another course of antibiotics until he was completely cured, but he hadn't expected his symptoms to return so suddenly and with such vengeance. He let out a surprised huff of breath as his knees began to buckle beneath him.

Jo let out a surprised cry as she suddenly had to support more of the Doctor's weight. Her arms shifted from around his middle to his arms, keeping him upright enough that he didn't smack his knees on the ground. She had pulled back, her brow furrowed in concern as she checked that he was steady.

"Sorry," the Doctor slurred, his vision blurring slightly.

"Here," Jo said softly, attempting to lift the Doctor back up to his feet and pushing him back towards the bed so that he could sit on the edge before she helped lower him down onto the pillow. Once he was supine, he began to feel a little better, the dizziness subsiding as he took a few deep breaths.

"Thank you," he gasped, giving Jo a small smile as she stood at his bedside – a smile which she returned – before he realised that her hands were still on his sides: the hug was still happening.

This truly was remarkable.

The Doctor began to feel drowsy, which annoyed him; he wanted more time to analyse this embrace, to work out exactly what it was that made it different from all of the other hugs that they had shared, and just why it was so necessary that it last this long, but it would seem that he was not allowed to: his eyes began to slip closed and the world began to turn black.

"Doctor?" Jo asked tentatively, as the hug went on.

The Doctor didn't have the energy to reply to her, slipping away into the world of sleep. Surely, he thought, this hug would have to end now? Yet, it would appear, it didn't; the Doctor suddenly felt an impression on his bed as his companion joined him by his side – Jo's right hand remained on his left side, her right arm now slung across his middle, while her left hand reached up to his shoulder, just below where Jo's head was now resting next to his own.

A smile pulled at his lips as he reached up to her arm, holding it in place against his torso as he began to drift off. He had a feeling that they both needed the rest, and what better way to do so than in what was turning out to be the longest – and quite possibly the best – hug in the entire universe?