A big thank you to everyone who has been R&R'ing this! To answer your question, D.W. Vean, Hobson was T. Hobson, an English liveryman who offered his customers the choice of renting the horse near the stable door or none at all, hence the word "Hobson's choice."
WARNING: Pre-shipper stuff abounds in this section!!! There is also ONE QUITE NAUGHTY WORD but there is a reason for it.
She gave him a warm smile and lowered his foot to the floor. "There! Good as new. Well, close enough, anyways."
"Yes. Would you like your feet rubbed now, or after we shower?" he asked.
"Mmm, after, please. I'm not very sweaty but I do have some aching back muscles that a shower would do wonders for."
"What, and a backrub from me wouldn't?" he asked indignantly.
"I wasn't about to ask for a proper backrub. You've done so much with what you already gave me, and the foot rub will be great as well," she said.
He sighed. "Tegan, I don't mind rubbing your back. I don't like you being in pain, you know."
"I know," she said quietly. "I just don't want to... well..."
She broke off, flustered, and he stared at her blankly. "Don't want to what?"
"Oooo, men!" she growled. "I don't care what species you are, sometimes you're all so thickheaded it's not even funny!"
"Perhaps," he said. "But you still haven't answered my question."
She lowered her head and mumbled something that for all the universe sounded to him like: "I duon totay avanich afew."
"Tegan, I couldn't understand a word you said," he told her in exasperation. "Would you please just be straightforward with me? Beating around the bush is so unlike you it's disconcerting."
She raised her head, eyes sparking a bit, then sighed deeply. "I said, I don't want to take advantage of you, all right? Ever since what happened two weeks ago you've bent over backwards to take care of me, and while I appreciate your intentions, it's not fair for me to keep letting you. And besides that..."
"Go on," he said levelly.
"I don't know what your reasons are," she finished.
"My reasons?" he echoed.
"Yes." Suddenly she was very serious. "I don't want you doing all this out of guilt, or remorse, or pity."
He looked as though she'd struck him. "I see," he said quietly, glancing down at his feet. "And I suppose my wanting to "take care of you," as you say, could have nothing at all to do with you being my friend, with me trying to be caring and kind. No, I only have the ulterior motives of trying to assuage my guilt and blame."
"I didn't mean it that way!" she protested angrily.
"Didn't you?" he retorted, his own anger evident. "I'm incapable of having any emotions like that? Isn't that what you think? Go on, admit it: you think I'm little more than a living machine at times, don't you?!"
"This is not you, Doctor!" she cried. "This isn't how you act with anyone. This isn't how you feel about your friends, about me!"
"How the devil would you know how I feel about you when even I don't understand it!" he shouted.
Both of them stood frozen, staring at each other: she in shock, he in defiance. He saw that she was trembling and wasn't entirely sure that he wasn't doing the same. In an infinite second he saw nearly every possible emotion cross her face: fear, hope, despair, sadness, joy, hate, and love. Her lips quivered and she backed away from him.
"What does that mean?" she whispered.
He sighed, closing and opening his eyes as though in pain. "I don't know," he replied helplessly.
She shook her head, slowly, violently. "No," she whispered again. "You can't say that to me. You can't tell me something like that, then say you don't know what it means, you can't say things like that to me at all, you don't know what you're saying, you don't mean it..." as she babbled she was slowly backing up further and further, hands curled into fists, looking as though she was about to flee. She jumped when she encountered the wall, spinning about with a sharp cry, turning every which way to try and find a place to run, to hide...
"There's nowhere to go, Tegan." His voice was gentle now, but firm, resigned. "There's nowhere for either of us to go but head on, isn't that what you said?"
"No," she whimpered. "I can't deal with this. I can't." She slid bonelessly to the floor, wrapping her arms around her knees and tucking herself into a ball. He approached her slowly and she flinched. "Stay away from me!" she cried weakly.
He laughed, sadly, bitterly. "And where would you like me to go?"
She began to cry, and he slowly went to her side, knelt beside her on the floor. He put his arms around her, and instead of protesting she sobbed into his shoulder. He rocked her back and forth, nuzzling his face in her hair. "I'm sorry, Tegan. Why do we always end up hitting at each other?"
After a few minutes she calmed again, raising her head to look at him. "Maybe Keelan was right?" she joked feebly, then groaned. "Gods, I can't believe I SAID that! I'm sorry, Doc! That was so out of line!"
The Doctor remembered very clearly what she was talking about. A few days after the escape attempt, they'd gone to one of the socials. They spent time with Rina and Lals, and met some prisoners they hadn't met before, including a humanoid named Keelan and his wife Saleya. They'd gotten into a sparring match, nothing major, but it was enough to put everyone in the group into fits of laughter.
Keelan wiped his eyes. "It's easy to see that you two are lovers," he gasped. "The way you go at it."
"Actually, we aren't," Tegan said before the Doctor could even open his mouth. "We're just friends."
"Friends, eh? I've never seen friends act the way you two do," he winked.
"But we are," Tegan protested stubbornly.
Saleya giggled. "There's an awful lot of sparks between you, just to be friends!"
"That's the truth!" Keelan agreed. He grinned. "Take my word for it," he told Tegan in a low voice so the others wouldn't hear. "You two don't need to fight, you need to fuck."
She'd stared at him, mouth hanging open and eyes as big as saucers. The Doctor was about to have a few not entirely civilized words with him over his language when their time was up and they were taken back to their cell. They'd not seen Keelan and Saleya since, but the Doctor hadn't forgotten his words. Neither, apparently, had Tegan.
She'd expected him to give a small laugh, shake his head, anything to break the tension and diffuse their heightened emotional states. Instead his expression was contemplative.
"His language was crude and his input improper, but yes, perhaps he was right, Tegan," the Doctor said slowly, as though unraveling threads of thought and holding them up for inspection before starting to weave them together.
"That's not funny, Doc," she said lightly, trying desperately to get the conversation back on less treacherous ground.
He looked at her steadily, blue eyes serene. "I'm not joking."
WARNING: Pre-shipper stuff abounds in this section!!! There is also ONE QUITE NAUGHTY WORD but there is a reason for it.
She gave him a warm smile and lowered his foot to the floor. "There! Good as new. Well, close enough, anyways."
"Yes. Would you like your feet rubbed now, or after we shower?" he asked.
"Mmm, after, please. I'm not very sweaty but I do have some aching back muscles that a shower would do wonders for."
"What, and a backrub from me wouldn't?" he asked indignantly.
"I wasn't about to ask for a proper backrub. You've done so much with what you already gave me, and the foot rub will be great as well," she said.
He sighed. "Tegan, I don't mind rubbing your back. I don't like you being in pain, you know."
"I know," she said quietly. "I just don't want to... well..."
She broke off, flustered, and he stared at her blankly. "Don't want to what?"
"Oooo, men!" she growled. "I don't care what species you are, sometimes you're all so thickheaded it's not even funny!"
"Perhaps," he said. "But you still haven't answered my question."
She lowered her head and mumbled something that for all the universe sounded to him like: "I duon totay avanich afew."
"Tegan, I couldn't understand a word you said," he told her in exasperation. "Would you please just be straightforward with me? Beating around the bush is so unlike you it's disconcerting."
She raised her head, eyes sparking a bit, then sighed deeply. "I said, I don't want to take advantage of you, all right? Ever since what happened two weeks ago you've bent over backwards to take care of me, and while I appreciate your intentions, it's not fair for me to keep letting you. And besides that..."
"Go on," he said levelly.
"I don't know what your reasons are," she finished.
"My reasons?" he echoed.
"Yes." Suddenly she was very serious. "I don't want you doing all this out of guilt, or remorse, or pity."
He looked as though she'd struck him. "I see," he said quietly, glancing down at his feet. "And I suppose my wanting to "take care of you," as you say, could have nothing at all to do with you being my friend, with me trying to be caring and kind. No, I only have the ulterior motives of trying to assuage my guilt and blame."
"I didn't mean it that way!" she protested angrily.
"Didn't you?" he retorted, his own anger evident. "I'm incapable of having any emotions like that? Isn't that what you think? Go on, admit it: you think I'm little more than a living machine at times, don't you?!"
"This is not you, Doctor!" she cried. "This isn't how you act with anyone. This isn't how you feel about your friends, about me!"
"How the devil would you know how I feel about you when even I don't understand it!" he shouted.
Both of them stood frozen, staring at each other: she in shock, he in defiance. He saw that she was trembling and wasn't entirely sure that he wasn't doing the same. In an infinite second he saw nearly every possible emotion cross her face: fear, hope, despair, sadness, joy, hate, and love. Her lips quivered and she backed away from him.
"What does that mean?" she whispered.
He sighed, closing and opening his eyes as though in pain. "I don't know," he replied helplessly.
She shook her head, slowly, violently. "No," she whispered again. "You can't say that to me. You can't tell me something like that, then say you don't know what it means, you can't say things like that to me at all, you don't know what you're saying, you don't mean it..." as she babbled she was slowly backing up further and further, hands curled into fists, looking as though she was about to flee. She jumped when she encountered the wall, spinning about with a sharp cry, turning every which way to try and find a place to run, to hide...
"There's nowhere to go, Tegan." His voice was gentle now, but firm, resigned. "There's nowhere for either of us to go but head on, isn't that what you said?"
"No," she whimpered. "I can't deal with this. I can't." She slid bonelessly to the floor, wrapping her arms around her knees and tucking herself into a ball. He approached her slowly and she flinched. "Stay away from me!" she cried weakly.
He laughed, sadly, bitterly. "And where would you like me to go?"
She began to cry, and he slowly went to her side, knelt beside her on the floor. He put his arms around her, and instead of protesting she sobbed into his shoulder. He rocked her back and forth, nuzzling his face in her hair. "I'm sorry, Tegan. Why do we always end up hitting at each other?"
After a few minutes she calmed again, raising her head to look at him. "Maybe Keelan was right?" she joked feebly, then groaned. "Gods, I can't believe I SAID that! I'm sorry, Doc! That was so out of line!"
The Doctor remembered very clearly what she was talking about. A few days after the escape attempt, they'd gone to one of the socials. They spent time with Rina and Lals, and met some prisoners they hadn't met before, including a humanoid named Keelan and his wife Saleya. They'd gotten into a sparring match, nothing major, but it was enough to put everyone in the group into fits of laughter.
Keelan wiped his eyes. "It's easy to see that you two are lovers," he gasped. "The way you go at it."
"Actually, we aren't," Tegan said before the Doctor could even open his mouth. "We're just friends."
"Friends, eh? I've never seen friends act the way you two do," he winked.
"But we are," Tegan protested stubbornly.
Saleya giggled. "There's an awful lot of sparks between you, just to be friends!"
"That's the truth!" Keelan agreed. He grinned. "Take my word for it," he told Tegan in a low voice so the others wouldn't hear. "You two don't need to fight, you need to fuck."
She'd stared at him, mouth hanging open and eyes as big as saucers. The Doctor was about to have a few not entirely civilized words with him over his language when their time was up and they were taken back to their cell. They'd not seen Keelan and Saleya since, but the Doctor hadn't forgotten his words. Neither, apparently, had Tegan.
She'd expected him to give a small laugh, shake his head, anything to break the tension and diffuse their heightened emotional states. Instead his expression was contemplative.
"His language was crude and his input improper, but yes, perhaps he was right, Tegan," the Doctor said slowly, as though unraveling threads of thought and holding them up for inspection before starting to weave them together.
"That's not funny, Doc," she said lightly, trying desperately to get the conversation back on less treacherous ground.
He looked at her steadily, blue eyes serene. "I'm not joking."