Nightmare

Yaz was having that dream again.

She was enveloped in a warm embrace, buzzing with sensation as a certain blonde timelord nuzzled into the back of her neck. She felt her hair parting as soft lips pressed into the nape, hot breath murmuring across skin that felt aflame. One hand was tucked under her shoulder, pulling her back against soft curve, whilst the other was snaked around her waist. She felt jittery as a stray finger whispered across the gap between her top and her jeans, the exposed skin burning with the heated promise of things to come. In her dream she let out a low moan and pressed herself back the woman behind her, her hand gripping tightly onto the roll of orange bandage in her fist.

Hang on, since when had this detail been part of her dream?

Rising through the levels of consciousness, she cracked an eye open to cast about the dimly lit room. Where was she again? Glancing around she reoriented herself, taking in the roll of orange bandage gripped in her right wrist, a photo of Rose smiling up at her from a bedside cabinet, and a pale hand that didn't belong to her wound about her waist.

Not a dream, then? But that moan – real or not real? She felt as though someone had doused her with a bucket of icy water.

Trying to stay calm and completely still, she became aware of other sensations. There was definitely warm, snuffling breath on the back of her neck, but the grip on her shoulder felt loose, suggesting that the person doing the holding was probably asleep. Ok, that was good, Yaz thought, allowing herself a few deep breaths and relaxing a little, trying desperately to remember what had happened the previous evening.

They had been talking, then arguing, then reconciling and then… the polaroid caught her eye – ah, yes, the photo album. The Doctor had opened herself up, talking to Yaz about her past – the friends and companions she'd loved and lost. There had been many tears, but many happy memories too. Yaz's mind was still reeling – it was an awful lot to absorb.

The young officer frowned as she contemplated what all of it meant. Everyone has a history, she reasoned, so why should it matter whether that was five years or five hundred? She may have lived many live, but this latest incarnation of the timelord was still apparently getting to grips with her new form. She was struggling to find herself, to pin down what it meant to be 'the Doctor' and a woman no less. This exuberant, chaotic, curious Doctor was like a teenager, caught up in the whirlwind of change and the extreme highs and lows that accompanied it. Yaz cast back to her own, more recent, youth and smiled sadly – a lonely girl, hiding her insecurities from her family and few friends, desperate to prove herself.

Loneliness. That was the Doctor's greatest fear. Yaz thought about the sadness that pooled in those usually shining eyes, the crinkle of brows and sad smile she saw when the timelord thought no-one was looking every time she talked about dropping them back home. The Doctor's complicated past wasn't a reason to leave her, Yaz thought fiercely, it was the reason she could never leave her.

"You are not alone," she muttered through clenched teeth, slipping her hand into the one around her waist and pulling the Doctor closer around her.

"Yazsnugglesnice," the blonde murmured sleepily into her ear.

Yaz sighed, knowing that nothing in all of time and space could come close to this feeling. It was security, joy, and desire all wrapped up in a rainbow-lined coat. She let the warm, rhythmic breathing of the Doctor lull her once more to slumber.

"NOOOO!"

Yaz awoke with a start, immediately alert, and found herself half-off the bed, a flailing leg catching her in the side.

"Doctor!" She hauled herself back atop the mattress and spied the shock of blonde hair fighting off what seemed to be a mass of tangled sheets.

"NO, YOU CAN'T! COME BACK!" the Doctor yelled, half-sobbing.

"Doctor! Wake UP!"

Yaz grasped the timelord by the shoulders, trying to shake her from her nightmare. In doing so, she leant her body a little too far over the trembling figure, the weight of a knee pressing accidentally onto the bandaged ankle.

"GAAAHHH!" the Doctor yowled in pain, eyes shooting open and desperately trying to throw off her assailant.

Caught off-balance, Yaz tumbled off the bed, landing on the floor with a groaned 'ooff'. Looking up, dazed, she saw a tousled, blonde head peer down at her, eyes struggling to focus properly.

"Whatcha doing down there, Yaz?"

Unbelievable.

"Oh, well, I just really enjoy sleeping on hardwood floors," Yaz rolled her eyes.

"Really?"

"No, you great lump, you just kicked me off the bed!"

The Doctor scronched up her face. "I did? Sorry, I thought something was sitting on me ankle."

"My bad," Yaz groaned, picking herself off the floor and perching on the edge of the mattress, "You were having a nightmare and I was trying to wake you up."

"Oh, yeah," the Doctor scratched the back of her neck, pain etched across her pale features, "Sorry if I scared you."

"Too bloody right," Yaz rubbed at her side, softening instantly as she saw the look on the Doctor's face. "Was it the daleks? Or those horrid angels you told me about? Probably shouldn't have been rooting through bad memories before going to sleep."

"No, it was worse."

"Was it… was it Rose?"

"It was you." The Doctor's eyes looked terrible, haunted.

Yaz didn't know how to reply.

"You fell… over and over. Through dimensional voids… off clouds… from that crane… and I couldn't do anything. You just kept falling."

"Doctor, I'm right here."

But the timelord looked emotionally-drained, still replaying the scenes in her head.

"I'm right here, look," Yaz took the Doctor's hands in hers, pressing one of them firmly against her chest. Feeling the reassuring thump of the heartbeat, the timelord's eyes seemed to clear, the starlight reflecting in them once more.

"You're right here," the Doctor echoed in wonder, a smile finally beginning to spread across her wan features. Then she crinkled her brow again, adding "sorry for scaring you."

"That's ok. The important thing is we're both fine." Yaz nodded encouragingly.

"Are you sure you're ok?" the Doctor sounded unsure.

"Yeah, course. Bit of a bruise coming up, but it'll fit in nicely with all the others from the past few days," she grinned back.

"You don't feel, ok."

"Huh?"

"Your heart - it's beating pretty fast, over a hundred beats per minute."

Yaz tried to shrug off the observation, "Probably pretty normal for me."

"No, it's not," the Doctor's brow furrowed, "Your resting rate is normally sixty-eight."

"I'm not even gonna ask how you know that. I'm probably just tired."

"Fatigue usually slows your heart down."

"Right, yeah."

The Doctor scrunched her nose up, thinking aloud. "Tachycardia is caused by a number of physiological and emotional factors, but mostly due to a sudden increase in adrenaline production as a result of sympathetic nerve stimulation."

"Ok, so my nerves are playing up?" Yaz wished the Doctor wouldn't look so adorable when she was launched into 'science-nerd' mode.

"Sorta, but the key triggers are usually fear –"

"Nope, not afraid."

"- anxiety –"

"Ha, you do worry me at times, but right now you're just being a dork,"

"- or love."

Yaz didn't have a response for that.

"Well, I suppose it's more like excitement, or desire, really," the Doctor burbled on, "but – woah! Your heart is racing! Are you sure you've not got chest pain, or tummy pain, or shoulder pain or – "

"Doctor, I'm fine, honestly!" Yaz could feel heat flood her cheeks, suddenly wishing she was back on the hard floor.

"Stay still," the Doctor was not taking 'no' for an answer, and had whipped out her sonic screwdriver, scanning Yaz up and down.

"'Oc'or!" Yaz batted the timelord away as she stuck the sonic in her mouth and motioned for her to 'say ah'.

"Hang on," the Doctor drew back slightly, examinations complete, "So - elevated heartrate, flushed cheeks, and a dry mouth. Hmm, this can only mean one thing…"

Yaz couldn't breathe. She could only stare at the Doctor, heart still beating a tattoo into her open palm, and wait for her terrible secret to be revealed. This was it - the moment the Doctor would know and have to apologise and let her down gently, tell her that she was sweet but that she didn't do that. Tell her that she valued their friendship but that nothing more could come of it, that she didn't see her that way.

She turned away, unable to watch the awful moment unfurl.

"… you need tea."

"What?"

"You're having caffeine withdrawals – nothing a nice cuppa won't solve." The Doctor was beaming at her, pleased with her deductions, "Come on – no time like the present."

So saying she bounded off the bed and straight onto her injured ankle.

"WOWZA!" the Doctor hopped on the spot, leaning on Yaz for support, "I'd forgotten about that!"

She delved into her voluminous pockets once more, withdrew the sonic, and jabbed it at her ankle with a pulsing flash orange whirr.

"Better," she grinned, pocketing the screwdriver, "Right – kitchen, now."

"Wait – WHAT?" Yaz had been staring at the Doctor open-mouthed, waiting for her brain to catch up.

"Fixed foot - tea-time - comprende compadre?" the blonde beamed back, delighted at the alliteration.

The recent near-miss completely forgotten, Yaz spluttered with indignation.

"You mean to tell me that I've been lugging you around fires and bloody Barney, not to mention worrying about bandages and RICE, while you've been able to fix yourself THIS ENTIRE TIME?"

"Ooh, now you mention that rice I'm hungry again – maybe we could have toast too?"

"DOCTOR!"

"Alright, I'm sorry," and she had the decency to look slightly sheepish. "But in my defence, I probably couldn't have fixed it back in the cave – my sonic doesn't heal as well when exhausted. Didn't want to risk losing a limb again."

"Ok, fine – but what about back in the TARDIS?"

This time the Doctor blushed a deep pink, "Well," she said softly, "it was just nice, ye know, being looked after."

Yaz bit back a rebuke and relenting when she saw the Doctor's face scrunch up and her eyes flicker about the room, guiltily.

"If you ever need looking after, Doc, all you have to do is ask," Yaz sighed, smiling at the timelord, who was doing her best naughty puppy impression. "Ok then – tea and toast it is."

She made her way to the door, and back towards the TARDIS' main room, the blonde bouncing happily in her wake. Yaz was far enough ahead that she didn't catch the low murmur of the Doctor's reply.

"And all you have to do, Yaz, is stop avoiding the answer."

As the kettle boiled, the Doctor fiddled with the TARDIS controls, sending the ship off into gentle flight.

"Where are we off to, then?" Yaz felt refreshed and cheerful, ready for whatever the day threw at them.

"Well I thought we could stop off in Sheffield for a bit?"

Yaz's face fell, slightly, "Oh, yeah, cool."

"Thought you'd like to pop in and see your family, and it's probably time we check in on the boys?" The Doctor sounded cheerful, but Yaz could hear the layer of sadness beneath.

"Well, yeah, but not for too long – and you're always welcome to come too?"

The Doctor grinned at her, "Really?"

"Yeah, of course," Yaz returned it with a beam of her own, her hand lacing itself automatically with the Doctor's.

Then they heard a knock on the TARDIS door.

"What?" they chorused in unison.

The door swung open, with a blast of air, revealing a dark-haired man, covered head to toe in blood, and holding, of all things, a harpoon.

"WHAT?!"

*** TO BE CONTINUED ***