A/N: Here we reach the end of the tale. Thanks go out to warinbabylon, who gave me feedback and held my hand when I was being neurotically needy. Thanks to all of you who read, and all of you who reviewed. I deeply appreciate the response this story has received. In the end, as in the beginning, I have returned POV to the Doctor. After all, he's the President.
Tegan could not shake off her depression. Not being one to mope, she headed down to the Academy. She noticed, on her way, that people saw her. No longer was she the odd alien primitive to be rigidly not noticed. They didn't smile: Gallifreyans were not big smilers, but if their eyes met hers, many gave a polite little nod. 'I see you,' was all it meant, a small joy that gathered warmly behind her breastbone.
The map room was a good place to remember the Professor.
"Old maps are the landscapes of our memories, reminding us that the route into the past is not merely a matter of travel by time capsule. I always think they're lovely."
"There is no more summer for me, my dear, but only a lingering winter. This is my last regeneration, you see. Sometimes I think the only thing that keeps me going is the look of surprise on people's faces when they find out I'm still alive."
"I think it's an awful shame that there will be so little of you in history. A few short decades, like a flower that blooms too close to winter's first frost."
"The Doctor decided to take up the office; he chose to do it; he did indeed do it. He performed all the necessary actions to acquire the Presidency. To say he did it against his true wishes is not merely meaningless, but insulting. It implies he does not know what he's doing."
Tegan put her hand over a map section. She actually owned a botanical preserve somewhere on the continent that was kept in as natural state as Gallifrey could achieve after having developed from a technological society. She had no clue as to how she would visit it, or even if it was allowed.
The Doctor had meant to make this visit temporary; had planned to assist the Chancellor in rebuilding the government, and then make his escape to the freedom of the vortex. Now that he had taken up this challenge, could he walk away? Did he think that the stagnant course of Gallifreyan life could change?
What would become of her if he decided he had to stay? Maybe he could lead Gallifrey out of its long winter to the upheaval of spring without destroying the planet, but for her winter would come again soon. The numbers spoke for themselves, but did they speak for her? She was 24. She couldn't hold the span of her entire life in her mind, no more than she could conceive of the Professor's ten thousand years. When it was over, it would be over, but she was alive now.
Tegan became aware that someone was behind her. She expected Keludar. It would be like him to try to surprise her with one of his quips.
"I miss him, too," Keludar said.
"He was like a father to you. He gave you life–that is, if you can pass your exams."
"I'm more intelligent than I appear," he said gravely.
She looked back over her shoulder and he blinked innocently. "You do appear shockingly handsome rather than shockingly intelligent," she jibed, to put him in his place.
"Who knows what hideous countenance I may own on regeneration? Or worse, a foolish one. Too much nose, and not enough chin. I've seen examples on quite important Time Lords." She slapped his arm and he laughed. "Sorry, I couldn't resist teasing you."
"We've a saying on Earth, 'handsome is as handsome does.'"
"A hit! Lady, you wound me. I am chastised; I am put down; I cry mercy."
"Oh, shut up. Here I thought you'd grown up at last." Tegan scowled, but couldn't hold it.
- o - O - o -
She had dinner with Leela and Andred. In this small company, Andred unbent enough to let his feelings for his partner be seen. It was nothing showy: the touching of hands, a shared look. Leela was not one for public displays of affection, but in private, she was playful with him. Tegan knew herself privileged by their freedom in her presence.
Later, he left them alone to attend to some work. Tegan was reluctant to leave, though she worried she might be overstaying her welcome. She regarded Leela's face. The strong bones and tan made her age hard to guess. It was also possible that Gallifreyan health care was retarding the aging process.
"Does something trouble you, Tegan?"
"Are you happy, living here? You and Andred are good together, but is that enough? Is the life you lead apart from your time with him enough?"
"Enough for what? I do not understand the question."
Tegan shook her head. "I don't either. Never mind."
"I am happy, because I choose to be happy. My life is what it is, and I accept it. To deny truth causes unhappiness. Your problem is that you are still lonely in the flesh. Does the Doctor not please you?"
Tegan blushed to her eyebrows. She thought she was blunt, but her spades were shovels, compared to Leela's.
"We haven't… he's very busy, being the President… I've been ill…"
Under Leela's frank gaze the words all sounded like the feeble excuses they were. Her advice was straight to the point. "A Gallifreyan male is not trained to hunt. If you are ready, you must go to him."
- o - O - o -
The next day, she was supposed to resume her schedule of duties and lessons. When the Doctor made her his official hostess, he had planned that increasing purely social activities within Gallifreyan society would help develop informal connections among people used to regarding each other as political leverage. She needed all the etiquette lessons the Doctor and Flavia could cram into her. The complexity of those lessons made her training in mental defense a refreshment break in comparison.
The routine would resume, the Doctor would be busy, and she would hardly ever have time with him except as teacher to student. In fact, it was time now for her mental defense lesson.
- o - O - o -
Tegan took a seat on the bench in the vivarium room, and waited for the Doctor to join her. He was punctual, as she expected, stepping into the circle of golden light. "Tegan, are you sure you're up to beginning these lessons again?" He stopped and took her in, regarding her uncertainly.
Words failed her. Tegan stood up and let the fur that was her only covering fall away. Her pulse fluttered, and she managed a smile that felt like the bravest thing she'd ever done.
The Doctor's gaze followed the drop of the fur, then drifted slowly back up. A smile of delight lit his face. "Ah, Tegan. You take my breath away." He quoted himself deliberately, his voice huskier than normal. He crossed the space between them with two quick strides and gathered her in for his kiss.
Cool hands warmed as they explored her bare skin. Drinking in the Doctor's kiss, Tegan pressed close and was left in no doubt that there was one shape of his desire that she could grasp. The Doctor broke the kiss suddenly, and cupped her face between his hands. "Tegan Jovanka." He said her name in quiet wonder. Then he gave her the same grin she'd last seen when he scored a century in cricket, and hastily wrapped her back up in the fur. For a moment, she thought it was over. Then he lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bedroom.
Tegan started to laugh. "I believe this is exactly the sort of thing Lord Martusan had in mind for this fur," she teased.
"He is a Time Lord, and intelligence is expected of us." He put her down on the bed. Tegan sat up on the fur and watched the Doctor strip. A stalk of celery would never again be enough to let her pretend he wasn't a man. With every inch of skin he bared, anticipation added heat to her arousal. It wasn't that he was an Adonis, though his body was lean and graceful, and his shoulders broader than she had thought. It was the past they shared, and the profound change this moment was making in their future.
Her fingers curled into the fur. She wanted him, pure and simple, a physical hunger that had once been her greatest joy before she learned how bitter its dregs could taste. Tegan had cast aside fear of the future when she had let the fur fall away from her naked body under his eyes. The future came to her in a rush of flesh as cool and smooth as marble. Unlike stone, his skin warmed swiftly on contact with hers. She lay back against his encircling arm and drew his mouth down on hers. Lips kissed lips and hands kissed hands, then lips and hands went roaming for new kisses to share. The fur was soft against her skin, but not so silken as his lips.
Was his body heavy, or had she so completely forgotten what it was to be with a man? She planed a hand down his back and the surface hardly gave as if like a city that ate a mountain, her alien lover held undreamt-of secrets under that human-looking skin. "I am flesh and blood, Tegan. Do you need more proof?" he asked, his lips skimming the line of her jaw. He guided her hand between them, gently encouraged her to trade intimate touches.
Her hand was trembling and so was he. Her fingers teased him until he moaned into her hair. She startled at the sound. He lifted his head; they looked at each other in mutual inquiry, and then broke out in a fit of giggles. The Doctor recovered first. He smiled seraphically at her and bowed his head. His lips on her breast and his fingers between her legs turned her giggles into moans.
Tegan knew he wanted her to make the move that would join them. Her fingers lingered possessively on swollen flesh but she could not bring herself to make it final. The scars on her heart bound her to pain and anger and inhibited her will to put her hand in the fire again.
He rested between her thighs, his weight still mostly on his arms. Forget time travel and space travel. Any one person is an alien world. The Doctor traced a fingertip down the side of her face. He did not make mental contact, but as always, he loomed large in the psychic landscape. "I come in peace," he said at last.
There were a few beads of sweat on his skin, souvenirs of her alien heat. She lifted her hips and led him against her. "I want you," she said, the wary tension receding from her body in shivers. He entered, and she transferred her hands to his hips to urge him deeper. She remembered now why she had once craved this, and craved it once again. He was moving with deliberate care. She could feel the strength leashed under her hands.
His face was buried in the crook of her neck. She nuzzled into his hair to find his ear and softly blew across it. He kept being bigger than she expected, as if for years she'd subtracted part of his being from her perceptions. Now it was plain all these parts belonged to a man. "You won't going to hurt me, Doctor." It was a permission meant as much for her as for him. "I'm indestructible, remember?"
He slid home within her, and lifted his head. His smile dazzled, he tossed the fringe of hair out of his eyes. "I remember everything you've said to me, Tegan, including the time you compared me unfavorably to a broken clock."
"I like you much better now," she claimed giddily. She pouted an invitation to kiss, and he accepted. No further negotiations were made; no barriers remained. They shared themselves recklessly, living on borrowed time, as lovers always must.
- o - O - o -
The Doctor contemplated the ceiling. Once he had made a rather pompous speech to a Cyberleader about the value of emotions. He supposed that it was no coincidence that he had been defending Tegan at the time. The words had been entirely inadequate: 'small, beautiful events are what life is all about,' indeed. The Cyberleader had been unusually skilled for one of his kind in perceiving exploitable weaknesses. He directed his hostage threat at Tegan instead of Adric. What had the Doctor given away inside a couple of minutes? What word or deed had betrayed an emotional dynamic neither of them acknowledged?
It was not events to which emotion attached. The Doctor had chiefly experienced emotion by attachment to his traveling companions. They challenged him, supported him, exasperated him, instructed him, and yes, loved him. That was a dangerous word on Gallifrey. No law forbade it, but in practice, it was more proscribed than the name of Morbius. Love, the ultimate four letter word.
He'd cared for his many companions, for some as deeply as the woman who now drowsed against his shoulder. Yesterday he would have said that sexual intercourse would not change his feelings for anyone. That was true, if one considered only the mechanical aspect, and entirely false otherwise. A nude body could be as overlooked as statuary, but the nakedness of lovers was a shared thing, an exchange of trust. Tegan had exposed vulnerabilities compared to which nudity was of little importance.
The Professor had had a great deal to say for his ears alone, about Tegan. The Doctor agreed with much of it. Gallifrey, as learned as she was, was not omniscient or omnipotent. Her citizens were not gods compared to other beings. He chuckled to himself. To think he'd worried that Tegan would be bored on Gallifrey!
"What's funny?" she asked, kissing his shoulder. Her lashes barely lifted to show the dark glitter of her eyes.
The Doctor had agreed with Keludar that kisses enhanced her beauty. He was fallible enough to wish that Keludar never got the opportunity to see her like this. He put a finger under Tegan's chin and lightly kissed her lips. "I was hoping you had not found Gallifrey a dull vacation resort."
"Hah! Not with you on the planet." Her words slurred.
"Go to sleep, Tegan."
"You're going to get up, aren't you?" She rolled over onto her side.
"Not yet. Sexual activity is a drain on even my physical resources," the Doctor replied, not quite modestly. He fitted himself against the curve of her body. The small, sleepy snort with which she replied made him smile. Sated, the pleasure center of his brain still mildly stimulated, he was mellow enough to sympathize with Keludar. Tegan's neck was truly graceful, enough to tempt a Time Lord into stealing a kiss. In fact…
The Doctor leaned forward enough to let his breath play over her skin. "Mmmm," said Tegan. She slowly dipped her head, deliberately exposing the nape of her neck. Not wishing to keep her awake, he traced the delicate furrow with the softest of kisses. The taste of her aura changed as she fell asleep. He let the change in her aura spread to his. It was a small, beautiful event they could share. He hoped there would be many more.
The End
Now is the
winter of our discontent
Made glorious summer by this sun of
York
- Richard III, Act I, Scene I
