The Next Day

Tegan turned as she heard the front door open. True to his word, the Doctor had returned. "Good news?" she started to ask, then froze in place as the Doctor walked through the front door. Her Doctor, the one she knew was dead in some timeline ahead of the one he was obviously occupying.

He watched in alarm as Tegan swayed dizzily on her feet, was at her side in an instant as she started to collapse to the floor. "You're dead," he heard her murmur before unconsciousness claimed her.

The Doctor's fifth incarnation lifted her in his arms and laid her gently on the sofa before stepping back and regarding her in bemusement. "Well, it looks as if one of my future selves has been for a visit," he said aloud, then clicked his tongue disapprovingly. "And without warning me in advance, rather poor form, that."

It was discouraging, actually; if his future selves had started coming round, then it meant he wasn't going to find a cure within his own timeline. That wouldn't stop him searching, of course, because one thing about living a non-linear life was that you never knew when something might happen, in your own past or future or sometimes even congruent to the life you were currently leading.

Like this. He waited patiently for Tegan to come round; he needed to know which self had been visiting, what had been said, and why Tegan hadn't been returned to her trance state after said visit was over. If she had, then his presence wouldn't have been such a shock. It wouldn't have been a shock at all, just a pleasant surprise even if another self had appeared in between his last visit and this one.

oOo

Tegan blinked, blinked a second time, then a third before opening her eyes and looking round in a puzzled manner. Had she fallen asleep? No, of course not. A sigh escaped her lips as she spotted the Doctor sitting in the chair facing her. She was lying on the sofa, her red heels sitting neatly on the edge of the carpet, side by side like little soldiers. She sat up, pushing aside the brightly colored afghan that had been draped over her, studying the Doctor.

Her Doctor. His fifth self. "You're dead," she croaked out. Repeating herself. "I never thought I'd see you again once he showed up."

Hm. Obviously the future self that had revealed himself to Tegan had been his immediate successor. "Tell me," he said, his voice gentle and inviting, but Tegan flushed and turned her eyes from his. He raised an eyebrow; curious, she was acting almost…guilty.

"Tegan," he said, keeping his voice low and even, "it's all right, you know. It's still me, even if in a different form. Still the Doctor, no matter what I look or act like; no matter what you might do with him it's the same as doing it with me, you know." Well, no, actually it wasn't, but if his suspicions were correct it was what Tegan needed to hear.

"I didn't mean to," she blurted out, seeming relieved that he'd scoped it out himself, without her having to tell him. "I don't think he did, either, it just…happened. And I thought I'd never see you again…" She burst into tears and he was at her side in a flash, taking her in his arms, murmuring words of comfort and encouragement.

She buried her head in his shoulder, and gradually the sobs slowed and stopped. He withdrew a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her as soon as she raised her face. She turned away as she wiped her cheeks and blew her nose, dropping the used hankie on the coffee table after taking a final swipe at the corners of her eyes. "Sorry."

"No need for apologies, not for anything," the Doctor stressed, reaching out to take her hands in his. "Just tell me what you can; I assume from his visit that I don't manage to find a cure before whatever disaster befalls me?" He kept his tone light, not wanting her to know how much this reminder of his mortality upset his inner equilibrium.

Never mind; she knew, he could see the sympathy in her eyes as she studied him. "No, I guess not. But he — you — promised to keep searching."

"And he left without putting you back under?" That little fact hadn't escaped him, but until now it hadn't seemed important to address the question. "You didn't remind him?"

Tegan shrugged, half looked away, studied her nails for a moment before looking back up at him. "He refused to do it."

"Refused?"

Tegan nodded, looking somewhat abashed. "He said I'd be better off without it."

He raised an eyebrow. "I assume you, er, disagreed with him"

Tegan flushed a bright red as she recalled the events of yesterday afternoon. Was it cheating if you thought your lover was dead? Was it cheating if you were technically sleeping with the same man? The Doctor himself said no, but it still felt that way. "Yeah, I disagreed with him," she replied. "But as you can tell, he won. It wasn't as if I could force him to do it," she felt constrained to point out, as if failing to convince him to do something he really didn't want to do was her own fault.

"Well, it hasn't seemed to have caused any harm" he replied cautiously.

Tegan's eyes flashed in irritation. "Well, it's only been one day, after all." Then she paused, visibly reconsidering the rant she'd been about to embark on. "Of course, if you keep popping up a day apart it won't be that bad. But I'd still rather go back under when you leave."

He chose not to respond to that half-demand, half-request; he'd deal with it when he left. Another long six months had gone by in his own time, events had occurred that he wasn't really interested in reliving any time soon, so he managed to head off her obvious next choice of conversation, asking how he'd been, by kissing her. "Let's go for a ride, shall we? I need to clear my head and a horseback ride is just the thing."

She acquiesced, but not without offering him a knowing look as she hurried upstairs to don her riding clothes. He followed more slowly, taking the stairs one plodding step at a time, allowing himself to process the knowledge that he was destined to regenerate without finding a cure as he found a set of riding boots to pull on from the wardrobe room.

He frowned as he regarded the neat rows of footwear lining up the side of the walk-in closet that housed male clothing. If his future self was going to make visits, would he, too, require changes of clothing to keep on the premises? It was disconcerting, to think that he might need to accommodate another presence even if it was his own.

Even more disconcerting was the obvious follow-up thought: what if more of his future selves had to make appearances? What if none of them found a cure, and Tegan truly was stuck here for the rest of her life? "At least there'll be a bit of variety in her visitors," he consoled himself. Too bad it came out gloomier than he'd meant it to.

Too bad as well that Tegan happened by at that moment, no doubt looking for her own riding boots. "That sounds like giving up," she said, her voice sharp with a sudden surge of anxiety. "Even if you don't find it, that doesn't mean he won't!"

He started to assure her that he wasn't giving up, that he wasn't discouraged by his own current and future lack of success, but stopped. He refused to lie to her, and the truth was, right now he was feeling very discouraged. He admitted as much, and Tegan tugged him by one hand. "Let's ride," was all she said.

oOo

They returned to the house, sweaty and exhausted, when the sun was just setting to the west. Tegan plopped onto the sofa and lifted her feet to the coffee table with a weary sigh. The Doctor knelt down opposite and gently wigged her feet out of the knee-high leather boots. She started to protest, then subsided, leaning back against the back of the sofa and emitting a groan of contentment as her feet emerged from their sweaty prisons. "That's almost as heavenly as a foot bath," she said, eyes closed.

"Or a dip in the spa?" he suggested.

Tegan's eyes popped open and she grinned. "Ooh, perfect!" she agreed, then indicated that he should join her on the sofa. She tugged his boots off, wrinkling her nose in exaggerated distaste as his sweaty socks were revealed. "Just in time, I'd say," she added in mock criticism.

"Yes, well, four hours of riding hasn't exactly raised your aroma to heavenly levels, either," the Doctor shot back. Tegan made as if to pitch his boot at him, but he grabbed her wrist and twisted gently. She dropped the offending foot gear to the floor and allowed him to guide her to the back deck.

The spa was near the smaller of the two pools he'd built for her, the one just off the back of the house. While the Doctor busied himself uncovering it, Tegan got to work on stripping off her riding clothes, dropping them in a heap on the faux-wooden decking. The ubiquitous cleaning robots would whisk them away later, as they no doubt were currently taking care of the discarded boots inside the house.

The Doctor finished readying the spa, turning to watch as Tegan removed the last of her clothing. Neither of them bothered with bathing costumes, and he watched even more appreciatively as she stretched, cat-like, before climbing into the water and submerging herself neck-deep in the bubbling warmth.

She in turn watched with equal appreciation as he removed his own clothing and clambered in next to her. When his naked thigh touched hers, however, she felt a sudden shyness overcome her; she'd just slept with his future self the day before, for heaven's sakes; what was she thinking?

Before guilt and panic could overwhelm her, however, the Doctor smiled at her, the smile she'd come to love so well, gentle and understanding, and all her doubts fell by the wayside. If there was anything to forgive about her actions, he'd already forgiven them, without so much as a word of those actions passing between them.

And when he kissed her, she returned the kiss in full measure, allowed him to pull her close, to encircle her with his arms. And when his kisses started to wander, she put all thoughts of other trysts in the back of her mind and allowed her hands to wander as well.

The water bubbled around them, hot and steamy, unseen holographic birds twittered in the trees, a warm wind drifted through their hair, stirring red and golden strands gently before moving away from the lovers entwined in one another's arms.

He was here, he was real; he was dead and gone and replaced by a new self. It was a paradox, one she had no intention of exploring, not right now. He was here, he was real, he was holding her, pulling her tightly against his body, pressing his lips to hers, and that was enough for her.

Eagerly she returned his embrace, opened her mouth against his and slipped her tongue between his lips, her hand between his legs. He opened to her touch in both locations, easing her onto his lap as the water bubbled and seethed around them. She lowered herself onto his cock without need of a guiding hand or even the slightest semblance of foreplay.

The Doctor grunted with pleasure as she mounted him, and if he objected to the abruptness of Tegan's movement he gave no sign, merely settled into the quick, urgent rhythm she imposed, keeping his mouth tight against hers as he thrust upward to meet the downward motion of her hips and thighs.

He waited until she came before allowing himself the same release, moaning against her mouth even as she cried out against his.

They made love a second time, still in the spa, no words passing between them until the second time they climaxed. Then he cried out her name as she burrowed her face into the crease between neck and shoulder, his arms holding as tightly as ever he'd held any precious object, and she murmured something into his skin that even his excellent hearing couldn't translate. Content that it was merely love words, he asked for no clarification, merely relaxed against the wall of the spa and eased Tegan off his lap.