Soon their conversation ran dry. The Doctor was pondering something. Stomping through the moss, hands buried deep in his trouser pockets, head lowered, occasionally giving Sarah an uncertain sidelong glance, until after a short while Sarah couldn't stand it any longer.

"What is it?" she griped, hoping that the whole `marriage` thing hadn't given him another fit of second thoughts.

"What is what?"

"What you are thinking about? You are obviously thinking about something and I'm pretty sure it's not Jelly Babies."

He screwed his face to a frown. "Yes, I am."

"Then what is it that is bothering you?" she softly insisted.

"Nothing is bothering me," he reflexibly shot back, then caught himself. "it's just... oh bullocks, it's just that you can't call me Doctor now we are in... connected in such ways."

"I'm so used to calling you Doctor that I don't see anything wrong with it. We don't have to change that if you don't want to change it," she tried to humour him.

"But, I do want to," he rather uncertainly replied.

"Then maybe you enlighten me why your name it is such a big secret in the first place? Is it something timelordy, or something about you?"

"Erm,...both. You see, out system of naming is different than yours."

"Let me guess, it's more difficult," Sarah mocked him softly.

"Exactly!" he exclaimed quite unnerved, clenching and unclenching his hands behind his back. "You know, in our society we have several different sets of names, for different purposes."

"You mean differnt people use different names for different occasions and it's more complicated than some people calling me Sarah and others calling me Ms Smith?"

"Something like that, yes," he muttered under his breath.

"And The Doctor is one of your names, or is that a description or title?" she asked, her curiosity sparked.

He came to the conclusion that it was the right time to tell her. the full story. "It's not actually a name, but it became kind of a substitute name when I lost the rights to my official name. When I left Timelord society, my official name was erased and I became The Doctor," he explained in his best lecturing voice. "It happens to all of those who turn their back on Gallifrey and their way of life."

"That sounds sad!" Sarah softly stated.

"It was the price I was willing to pay."

The sorrow in this simple statement pulled on her heart stings but she didn't want to press the matter. "So you still have other names?"

"Yes, I have," He regretted that he hadn't put on his fedora, he felt the reflexive urge to hide his face behind it's wide brim, so deeply engraved into his psyche was the taboo of giving information about his species to members of other civilisations. "The true name of a Timelord, that he or she receives at the moment of initiation remains hidden in the core of the matrix. Nobody can ever take that away, but that name is just between the universe and me, you could say," he explained with low vice. "For obvious reasons I can't tell you, but every Gallifreyan has something that in your society would be called a birth name, an intimate name, only used by close family and intimate friends. Would you like to use it, too?" he timidly inquired.

Sarah mulled over his offer for a long moment. "Actually, not sure if I want to call you anything other than Doctor, Doctor. I'm so used to it, it's just what you are for me,"

"So you don't even want to know?" He stopped in his tracks, the hurt in his voice obvious.

"Oh no! I'd love to know, and I will use it," Sarah hurried to clarify. "Sorry, if I sounded as if I don't care. I've just forgotten that `Doctor` isn't even a proper name."

"You have?" he incredulously asked, his stance slightly relaxing.

"It took me a few weeks, by the time we visited Peladon I really liked Doctor. It's eccentric, in that respect it fits you perfectly."

He rolled his eyes. It was the way of his people, there was nothing even remotely eccentric about Timelord culture. Rather the opposite.

"I like eccentric," she added when she saw that her explanation didn't sit too well with him.

"But now you want to change your habit?"

"You said it's only for private use anyway, and yes, I'd feel honoured to know," she mused. "I could save it for special occasions," she added in a conspirational tone, "once there are any special special occasions of course." Her voice went even more suggestive.

"Oh, I'm sure there will be," he stammered rather evasively. Oh why had humans to be so painfully direct! He was aware that he better addressed the subject before the essential ingredient of a honeymoon was about to take off but he was frankly unable to do so, in his society one just didn't talk about 'these matters'. At least not after puberty and the unavoidable sex jokes shared in the communal shower, when you were 30 and suffering from a monumental crush on a particularly attractive classmate. Even the thought made him cringe. He decided to postpone this conversation to another day, nurturing the stupid hope that he might find a bit more courage along with the right words later. With the link still so fresh he was glad for the telepathy inhibitor on Sarah's head. He fervently wished she were Gallifreyan and he could just head on do what all of his biological systems were yearning to do, right there and then, instead of forcing his desires back into the closet yet again.

The tension in the Doctor's stance, the discomfort in his eyes hadn't escape Sarah, in fact she had half expected it when she touched the subject and began to assume that his pathological shyness was more than a personal issue, maybe had a cultural component, too, or entirely other reasons. Linking her arm with his they resumed their stroll through the forest.

Sarah already regretted her saucy tongue because obviously he was no longer in the mood to talk about his name. "Doctor?"

"Mmh.."

"I didn't mean to embarrass you. I'm sorry!"

"It's nothing, butterfly," he replied rather unconvincingly.

"Yes, I did. Don't try to deny it. Let me guess, it's something cultural, isn't it?"

He muttered something unintelligible.

"Isn't there a book I can read?" she suggested.

He looked up in surprise. "No," he snorted. "Gallifreyan society never saw it fit to introduce members of other civilisations to their ways."

"Maybe a Gallifreyan sex education book for children?"

He let out a groan. "Something like that doesn't exist!"

"Then how about a Gallifreyan biology book? Sociology book? Timelordology book?" she insisted.

Bewildered he shook his head. "Hardly contains the information you want. Plus the Tardis is very reluctant to translate Gallifreyan script. Don't worry, Sarah. We'll manage, I will..." With these words he forced the closet door shut.

"I've ruined your good mood," Sarah ruefully remarked, in the distance between the fern trees spotting the turquoise, glittering surface of the lake.

"No, you didn't. Don't even start to think that this is your fault!"

"It's the talking about it, you find it irritating?"

"Erm, yes," he admitted.

"Then we won't talk about it."

"It's not that easy."

"Oh yes, it is."

He desperately wished it was. But maybe it was indeed! An idea started to take form and solidify in his mind, yes, with some luck there was a solution for the one problem he was facing when he started an intimate relationship with a human, that would even save him this horrible conversation. With some luck he could cobble together the necessary equipment and since his human company needed a lot more sleep than he did he had all night to work. His mood brightened up considerably as his plan gelled. He could have thought of it much sooner but until now he had been successfully repressing the subject. He mentally slapped himself for being so stupid. But it was not too late, he estimated it wouldn't take him more than maybe a week.

"It's a pity that the lake is too swampy to have a swim," Sarah interrupted his musings.

"You humans seem to be obsessed to submerge in any body of water you come across," the Doctor remarked with a chuckle. "I'll scan the lagoon for anything hazardous because I guess we'll be spending some time there, eh...," the Doctor sheepishly suggested, taking Sarah's hand and manoeuvring her around a fallen tree.

"Oh that would be great!" she exclaimed, climbing over the rotting branches, relieved that he had overcome his fit of inner turmoil.

A sweet little smile played around his lips at her innocent enthusiasm. Cautiously he encased her hand in his and side by side they walked down the mossy slope to a shady spot with lush moss vegetation, from where they had a nice view over the little lake. The Doctor spread his coat on the still dewy ground and invited Sarah to make herself comfortable. She squeezed on the left side, hugging her knees to leave the Doctor enough space, but he silently shook his head and squatted down in front of her.

"I want to try to teach you something," he explained.

"As long it's not Venusian aikido again," she jested. "Remember the bruises I got when you showed me how to disarm an offender?"

"Erm, yes."

"And remember when you tried to teach me how to make superglue to mend your sonic screwdriver."

"It exploded," he admitted.

"Mmh, it did," she mildly replied. "I just hope that whatever it is, it's going to be more of a success and less hazardous," she chuckled.

"It's nothing like that at all. I want to teach you to close your mind to telepathic influences."

"Oh."

"Yes, and it's pretty simple and not at all dangerous."

"So what do I have to do?"

"You imagine sitting in something that represents an impenetrable sphere, Faraday cage, stone walls, force field, nuclear shelter. Whatever works best for you. This impenetrable sphere has a door that you can open or shut at will."

"That's all? Sounds easy to me."

"Mmh, doesn't it? It's not so easy to keep it up over a prolonged period of time. Once you get the hang of it you have to retain the feel of it without the actual image, though."

"But I'm human, how do you know if it's going to work on me?"

"I've no idea if it does. We have to find out. Now find an image that feels safe for you and that is easy to maintain. And don't get too uptight and strained while you hold the image. Easy and relaxed does it. Take your time."

"Shouldn't I switch off your anti telepathy contraption?"

"No. First you exercise with it," he pointed out.

...

After twenty minutes the Doctor was satisfied with her efforts. "I think that's quite enough for now."

"We don't try it out?" Sarah exclaimed, disappointed that she couldn't immediately put her new skills to the test.

"No. We have plenty of time. Your natural mental defences still need to heal. And you can do with more practice before we give it a try," he explained.

"So how are we going to spend our time until then?" Sarah pouted.

"It's totally up to you. I still owe you a foot rub," the Doctor tentatively suggested.

It took her a few moments to remember what he was talking about. "Oh that!" She waggled the toes in her trainers, delighted at that prospect. "That night was a disaster!"

"Yes it was," he admitted. "But it took us here, remember." Thoughtfully he began to undo the shoelaces. This was virgin territory. Secretly, he had adored her undressed form when he had tended to her, dying a thousand deaths at the sensations it gave him when he longingly ran his fingers along her soft skin. This was different, now he was entitled to every square inch of her gorgeous, enticing body.

"It's not too, erm... inspiring, I hope," she asked, observing the rapt expression on his face.

"This isn't kissing, butterfly" he explained, sobering, putting away her left shoe. With nimble fingers he began to explore the anatomy of her foot. "It's better with a lubricant, isn't it?"

"I didn't bring the sun oil."

"Then it will have to do without." He moved into a cross legged position and with gentle strength, almost meditatively began to work through her tendons, bones.

She practically melted away under his hands. For three years she had lived the life of a celibate and she realized how she was not made for a lifestyle like that, how she was craving a pair of strong hands carressing her body.

"Is that to your satisfaction?" he softly inquired after a while.

"Very," Sarah purred. "And what about you?"

"Oh, I could do thist for aeons! I've really no idea why in my culture sensual pleasures are so disregarded," he dreamily replied.

"Is it a religious prejudice?"

"In a way," he mused. "The Time Lords worship the intellect. My people regard physical pleasures as inferior, reminding us to our feral ancestry, at least that's the official party line. Everyone looks down on the outsiders who don't abide by their moral laws. But most of them are hypocritically enough to secretly indulge in it themselves. Of course everyone knows that everybody else does it. Just outwardly they all pretend..."

"Ew! That sounds awful," she interjected.

"Doesn't it? The longer I'm away from them, the more I get to know other cultures, the clearer I see how deep neurosis runs in our society. That's the reason why my people explore other cultures but have a rule to never stay too long, to never get too deeply involved with any of them. It's because some of their alien values, their sanity could rub off. That's why they loathe people like me, I no longer believe in their indoctrination."

He paused, turning even more serious. "There is just one thing that is important. Don't publicly act as my wife when we visit anywhere. Please! Not ever! For your safety and for mine. I've no idea how they are going to react if they ever find out that you have become so much more than one of my `pet humans`, as they call it."

"You are afraid of them."

"The last time I pissed them off they forced me to regenerate, suppressed certain codes and equations essential to steer a time capsule in my mind and disabled my Tardis, stranding me on earth, hoping that way I'd develop a hearty disgust for alien cultures," he admitted softly.

Sarah pulled up her legs, hugging her knees, shocked to learn of the nasty nature of the Doctor's race. "The Brigadier told me that you've been exiled for a few years. But that your second last regeneration was caused by your own people as a punishment, that's horrible."

"Yes, it was," he admitted, his voice hardly above a hoarse whisper.

"You have asked me once before and I can just repeat what I said back then. I'll do anything to keep us safe," Sarah emphasised.

"I know you will." A contented smile began to soften his features. "Isn't this a glorious day," he exclaimed, slumped backwards and came to lie spread eagled. Closing his eyes he relaxed to the sensation of the planet spinning beneath him.

"It's the perfect holidays."

"Mmh," he agreed.

"You are tired," Sarah commented, watching as the usual enthusiastic energy waned from his face as he relaxed.

"Can't hide anything from you, can I?" He half opened an eye, winked her to bend down to him and after a long moment of considering whispered two words into Sarah's ear.

"What does that mean?" she inquired, straightening herself into a sitting position.

"It's my name."

"Theta and Sigma, that's two Greek letters, not a name." Her expression turning from confused to incredulous.

He propped himself up on the elbows, giving her a very indignant look. "Seriously, it is. It's an abbreviation of a complicated and very beautiful mathematical equation."

"Your personal name, the one your family used when you were a toddler is a mathematical equation?"

"Yours mean princess and god is merciful, a title and a theological assumption" he pointed out. "How is that any better?"

Sarah had never looked at her name in that way. "True," she admitted. "Somehow you never fail to surprise me, Theta" she sighed, softly resting her palm on his solarplexus.

He couldnt't help but utter a guttural little giggle, delighted that his Sarah Jane finally used his name, a name that he hadn't heard for such a long time and sagged back into the bed of blueish moss.

"You've been up all night to build the telepathy inhibitor, haven't you? Why don't you have a nap?" Sarah suggested. The urge to curl up besides him became all too tempting, but in this position the crown would not stay on her head, so she just settled down besides him and continued to lightly fondle his upper belly.

"I don't need nearly as much sleep as humans do," he muttered.

"But right now you look as if it will not exactly harm you."

"It's not polite to fall asleep next to your chosen one, " he stubbornly insisted. "And what are you going to do? You will be bored." Again he propped himself up on his elbows, but Sarah intensified the pressure to his chest.

"Will you stop fretting? It's a wonderful place and it's okay for me to just sit here and watch over your sleep."

"Really?"

"Cross my heart!"

A beatific smile brightened up his features and with a contented sigh he closed his eyes. He was glad that Sarah was so much less demanding than the Time Ladies. he knew.

...

By noontime they returned to the Tardis. The Doctor spent the afternoon hours to prepare fireworks for the feast while Jegor and Sarah rounded up delicacies from the stasis pantries. The evening turned out to be a complete success, fondly remembered by everyone.

Sarah went to bed and the Doctor used the night time to start his latest project, browsing his various store rooms for the parts necessary to assemble a molecular synthesizer.

Another item he needed was harder to come by. In the early morning hours the Tardis finally had mercy with him and helped him locate the set of data disks on Time Lord medicine and biology. He had assumed to find it where it belonged, in a locker in the infirmary but it turned out they lay buried under a collapsed pile of Venusian cook books in the library (he had no idea how they ended up there). Quite satisfied with himself he flopped down on his workshop diwan for a kip just to find that he was so giddy with anticipation to go and see her in the morning that he didn't get a wink of sleep.