CHAPTER TWENTY

Enjoined

The Doctor wasn't sure how much time had passed since Rose had left the control room. Nor did he particularly care. It was ironic, in a way, that he'd wanted to be alone - and he really did - in order to reflect again on just how alone he was. It wasn't something he normally liked to think about, or even allowed himself to think about. It was too easy to spiral down into that pain and loss and loneliness.

Why was this happening? There were memories and emotions in his head right now that he hadn't touched in decades. Centuries, even. The Tardis was talking, and he didn't like what she was saying. Adric, the guilt of genocide, the Last Great Time War and now half-Time Lord children, of all things. It was as if she was bringing all of his horrific, dirty secrets out into the open, memories and emotions. But why? It was sadistic and cruel. And the Tardis was neither. Besides that, the fact that she was apparently trying to say all of this to Rose and not him. Rose would have no idea what any of these clues truly meant.

He massaged the bridge of his nose as he tried to put the thought of sabotage out of his mind. That was far too emotional, not to mention out of character, for the Tardis. She just didn't think that way. So what the hell was all of this about? He stood and walked to the console. They'd materialized. He checked the coordinates. Wrong. They were wrong. They were not where he had set them. Frustrated and impatient, he reset them again and threw the Tardis back into flight without ever checking the scanner to see where they had actually ended up.

Anger - fury - came and went, then dissolved into hopelessness. Finally, he flopped back down in the chair and let every other emotion he'd been holding at bay sweep over him. Loneliness and loss and guilt and fear and remorse and despair. He let himself feel all of it. Then, before he could find a place to re-file it all away, the bright and lively beat of the Bee Gees "Stayin' Alive" was suddenly resonating from the control console.

For a moment, he just stared, dumbfounded. Seriously? Was she really doing this to him? A new wave of anger came, mixed this time with frustration. And suddenly, that feeling of loneliness was unbearable. Blindly, he reached forward and tried to turn the volume down on the blaring music. But the control didn't respond. Of course it didn't. He hadn't turned it on, and he couldn't turn it off. He couldn't even change it. All he could do was go somewhere else.

"Ah, ha, ha, ha! Stayin' alive! Stayin' alive!"

He considered it briefly. The hell with the rest of this day. He was exhausted - mentally, and emotionally if not physically. Everywhere he ran to try and escape the buildup of memories and emotions he didn't want to face, more and more were there to greet him, piling up until... what? Until it broke him? He was already broken. His back had been broken long ago under the weight of his guilt and shame. It was a wonder he could even stand.

He could still taste her.

That thought was not his own, and he glared at the console. "Stop it."

But it didn't stop. The Tardis could feel her, and so could he. He could still smell her scent around him, hear the sound of her breathing in his ear, even over the sound of the obscenely loud, unromantic music. Slouching down, he kicked his feet up on the console and stared up at the overhead dome for a long moment. His mind and emotions were in chaos. Did he even really care anymore?

Regret. The last thing he wanted was to steep himself even further in regret. There was no way this could end well. No matter what he did or didn't do, no matter who he tried to be, this would never end well. Best case scenario, he would kneel at her grave and think of her fondly. Worst case... it would be entirely too painful for him to think about, and he would never mention her name again. A thousand years from now, the Tardis would be inadvertently torturing him with the memory of her, right along with everything else that had ever caused him pain and loss.

But what was worth it? Everything - even that amount of pain - had a price. He'd felt love before. And as agonizing as it was when it came crashing to an end, he wouldn't have changed a minute of the time he'd spent in love. He could feel it again if he let himself, if he just closed his eyes for just a moment. It was burning in his chest, whether or not he wanted to admit it. He loved Rose. But to admit... to taste the freedom of being openly, admittedly, passionately in love with her.

That tingling feeling fluttered across his thoughts. The warmth of pleasure and excitement. It could be worth it. It could feel like it was worth it, just for a few minutes of something other than this. Something not pain, not loss, not guilt or loneliness. She was swirling in his mind - visions, her smell, her taste. His tongue traced his teeth, then along the roof of his mouth and his lips, looking for texture. Something like her. But he couldn't find it. It was there in his mind, but just out of his grasp. The smell of sex - pheromones and need, salt and semen. He closed his eyes and drew in the memory. He'd felt that before, though not with her. He knew what making love to her would feel like, how incredibly satisfying it would be. But the memory, the imagery, it wasn't enough.

It wasn't her.

The song playing all around him cross faded into the next - slower and mellower. The gentle comedown after mind-blowing orgasm. The Tardis conveyed her "mood" well. But he was far from relaxed. As he opened his eyes and stared again at the ceiling, he could feel it rising up inside of him. Decision and determination. And blinding, overwhelming desire. He could feel her skin under his fingers, warm and responsive. Breathing her breath, holding her gaze - open and trusting. There were so many questions in those eyes, so many answers he could give. Awe and wonder and innocent beauty like he had never seen. At least not in any memory he could draw to the surface. Had he ever wanted anything the way he wanted her right now?

She was worth it. He knew, instinctively, that if he was even considering that thought, she was worth it.

He stood, trying to snap himself out of it, trying to shake off that thought before it took hold of his will. He raised a hand to the console, to the volume control, but he paused there as he remembered it didn't work. And even if it did... Did it matter? His blood was like fire in his veins. And he didn't want to turn this song off. He didn't want to turn these thoughts off.

His will was overcome. He'd lost this fight the moment his lips had first touched hers, and he knew it. He wasn't doing himself any favors by lying to himself, and to her. And right now, if only for a few short, fleeting moments, he didn't want to be alone.

*X*X*X*

The knock on the door startled her. Quickly gathering her thoughts and tucking them safely away, Rose slid out from under the blankets and grabbed her robe, holding it tightly closed as she opened the door, confused. The instant she heard the music coming from the control room, she blushed.

"I... I'm sorry. I thought you'd gone to bed or..."

He looked up. Every muscle in her body tensed at once. Slouched against the doorway on one arm, head down and hair wild and eyes on fire as they suddenly locked with hers, he was everything in that moment that she'd never been able to imagine. He was always so controlled, so friendly and caring, happy and light. She'd had to use her imagination to think of him any other way. But suddenly, it was right there in front of her: passion personified, hypersexual in a way she had never seen him.

"I give, Rose," he said low. "It's your move."

For a moment, all she could do was stare, heart pounding in her ears. Then, slowly, she released her grip on the robe to place her hands on his shoulders. He took one step in, past the door, arm sliding around her waist as he covered her mouth with his, pushing her back. Breathless, she let him lead her, into the room and backwards toward the bed. She didn't have to ask; he didn't have to say. She knew why he had knocked on her door, why he was kissing her now. And it made everything inside of her tremble with excitement.

Sliding her hands inside of his jacket, she pushed it back, off of his shoulders. It fell to the floor in a heap at his feet. He barely paused, shedding clothes all the way to the bed. That hot, passionate kiss never broke, never slowed until her hands finally slid over his bare chest and he pulled back to gasp her name.

Shirt, slacks, and everything else... He cradled her head as he turned and pushed her back onto the bed, catching his weight with his other arm. She gasped as she heard his breath in her ear, his hand tracing the edge of her robe and slowly moving up along her side.

"Tell me to stop," he breathed - a plea and a question at the same time.

"No," she gasped. "No, don't stop."

He groaned as he buried his face in her neck. "You smell... amazing." His fingers wandered, slowly, teasingly, until his hand finally closed gently over her breast. Her heart leapt into her throat, her back arching to get closer to him. "Hot pheromones and adrenaline... That dark, sexy smell that's just you. You have no idea, Rose..."

She slid the arch of her foot up the back of his calf, parting the robe, pressing up to draw him closer. She couldn't remember ever needing anything the way she needed him. But he pulled away from her ear, looking down at her with that deep, intense look as his chest heaved against hers.

"Can you feel that, Rose? Can you feel me?"

She reached her hand down between them, lightly tracing hot, satiny flesh. "Yes."

"No." He smiled - that knowing, mischievous, excited smile - as he shook his head, breathless. "No, you don't feel it. Not yet."

She blinked at his matter-of-fact tone, confused. But before she had a chance to reply, he'd moved both hands to her head. Watching her eyes, he braced himself over her as he lightly touched her forehead on either side and breathed onto her lips a single word.

"Contact."

The sudden rush of hypersensitive awareness made her gasp loudly. Where his lips touched her - falling on her jaw, her neck - she felt as if she'd been seared by a white-hot poker that branded her with pleasure instead of pain. Suddenly, she could feel him. She could hear every beat of his hearts, feel the blood that pooled between his - her? - legs. She could feel every breath he took, his emotions, his desire and need. In that beautiful, blissful moment, it was impossible to tell where she ended and he began.

Covering her mouth with his again, he parted her thighs with his and slid inside of her with one smooth, even stroke. She nearly screamed at the pleasure, and heard him moan with complete abandon. Dizzy, her eyes rolled back, then slid shut.

Her nails scraped down his back, and she felt it. She felt his pleasure as if it were her own. And she felt her own. Locking her legs tightly around his waist, she moved to his rhythm, felt his power and strength in a way she had never known it before. Her chest was heaving, breath stolen by this man - this gorgeous, timeless man who was staring down at her with those endlessly deep eyes. All that she had ever imagined about how this moment might feel paled in comparison to that breathtaking, desperate emotion that pulsed with every beat of their hearts.

She could feel it building - long, slow moments of patient rhythm, too lost in the pleasure of it all to think of anything beyond how good it felt to be with him. To be one with him. She saw it in his eyes as she felt it settle down in his core. Breathtaking release, impending and inevitable.

"Oh, Rose, please tell me you can feel that..."

"Yes!"

Her womb was clenching - effortless and exciting. The deep breath before the fall, the first waves of pleasure. She heard his cry, low and guttural, words in a language she had never heard that for some reason didn't translate... and he released inside of her. She gasped as his fall triggered hers, and cried into his kiss, her entire body shaking. For several long, screaming moments of pleasure, she knew nothing but him, cared for nothing beyond this feeling, his kiss, their bodies joined together.

As she finally collapsed, dizzy and trembling, he dropped kisses along the side of her neck, over her collarbone. She faded in and out of awareness as he covered her in kisses and finally, wordlessly, settled beside her, pulling her close. Barely able to move, unable to think, she pressed against him, letting his body and hers melt together in the silence of the dimly lit room.