Perfume

Chapter Six: Enigma

By Rhondda Lake

The Doctor had no idea what had just happened. Something was just not right. He had wanted to kiss her. He could breathe it, almost taste her. Her scent still clung to him, to his clothing where she had pressed against him as he had carried her back.

He'd had the fleeting thought of kissing her before, and sometimes dreamed of it. But never had he come so close to acting on it. Never felt the desire rise so strong he actually shook within his own skin with it. The idea was beyond foolish.

No matter the attraction and affection, she was human. It was not really some misguided speciesist ideology, it was simple fact. She would burn brilliantly, perhaps leaving an afterimage in his mind forever, but like flash paper she would be gone too quickly. Short little life spans made humans want to cram as much living, as much life, into their limited time as was possible. The resulting curiosity and sense of adventure were part of the reasons he had a weak spot for the silly little apes. But to form such an intimate emotional and physical bond, it would only end in disaster. If he 'died' before she did, how would she take facing a stranger with his memories, his feelings? If it were too much for her the resulting rejection would destroy him. And if he did not regenerate within her lifetime, then what? He would watch her age. She completely believed she wouldn't leave him, but it was the naive belief of someone unable to comprehend the order of things. She may not want to, but she would.

In time age would take a toll, slow her down, and even if he stopped moving, stopped running, stopped saving the universe from itself to stay with her after that, until time took its toll, she'd still leave him. Everything has its time and everything dies. Some faster than others. As it was he had become too attached to her. More than any other companion. The thought, the idea of her inevitable demise made his hearts feel hollow and his throat tighten. He was already too close, already facing the possibility that this loss atop all the other would be more than he could take. He didn't need to be certain of it by doing something so bloody stupid.

"She gonna be okay?" The Doctor looked up to see Jack leaning against the wall in the hallway.

"Should be," he sighed, tucking his hands into the pockets of his jacket.

He fought against the irrational anger. Rose had been right, Jack had done very well. He didn't usually lose his temper without reason. What was going on?

"Look, Jack…"

The ex-Time Agent cut him off. "It's okay. If you apologize the universe might come to an end or the TARDIS will implode. You were worried and I was there to take it out on. It happens." Jack offered a too-charming smile. "Just as long as you do realize I'd never deliberately do anything to hurt her, right?"

"Yeah. I do know that." The Doctor turned away, intending to go to the Console Room. "I have to contact the local agencies and let them know…"

Once again he was cut off. "Done. An anonymous tip was already sent out. I've done this, before you know. Used to be damn good at it. Now you," Jack had walked up alongside the Doctor as he had spoken and now slung an arm around his shoulders, "owe me a drink. A very nice, very strong one. We could both use it. And if you play your cards right, you just might get lucky."

The Doctor couldn't help but smile a bit at the irrepressible man. "Not quite, I told you, you had to buy ME a drink first. My ship, my alcohol. It just isn't quite your day."

"You could have at least strung me along a bit longer, played all coy and vulnerable. But no, just rush in and trample my fragile hopes to the floor right away." Jack didn't remove his arm but shook his head.

"Maybe I'm just playing hard to get," he offered as he opened the door to the TARDIS Library, where there happened to be a nicely stocked drinks cabinet.

Jack flung himself into an overstuffed velvet armchair. It had appeared in the library around the time the Doctor and Rose had saved him from his own heroism. "You, sir, are impossible to get. Which just makes the challenge so much more interesting."

An hour later the Doctor returned to the infirmary to find it empty. Not that he really expected Rose to be there. But he had to make sure she left because she was actually feeling better, not just because she didn't feel like waiting for the effects to be totally gone.

He knocked on the door to her room. It swung open silently and she smiled up at him cheekily. "Knew you'd have to check up on me sooner or later."

Her hair was damp at the ends and her face scrubbed clean of makeup. The moist air of the room and the smell of soap mixing with her perfume all indicated a very recent shower. Her bare toes peeked out of the bottom of her jeans.

"Part of the service. You feeling alright now? Nothing spinning that shouldn't?" He reached out and gently took her wrist in his hand, feeling her pulse with his stroking thumb. Oddly it sped up a bit at that.

"Nope. I'm all better. So have you decided where we're off to now?" She didn't try to reclaim her wrist.

"Actually thinking of the Delnusian orb. Giant space ship the size of a small planet. Its outer hull is like a planet turned inside out. Gardens and forests lit up by giant sun emulators, and at the centre is another orb, the size of a moon where all the people live. It's fantastic to see. Travelled the universe for some eight thousand years. Its inhabitants originated from hundreds of different worlds."

She was nodding with his words. "Sounds interesting. Not the burning at the stake sort. Definitely a plus."

It was rising again. A sweet flood of desire washing over him, making his skin feel too tight, too hot. It wasn't necessarily stronger than it had been before, no. But something was missing. He was finding it harder to struggle against it. He couldn't think straight. He recognized this, but couldn't peace together how he would normally be thinking.

"Doctor, what is it?" Rose's earnest brown eyes were peering at him in concern, her hand on his chest, over his hearts. He could feel its heat through his jumper.

And he couldn't focus on anything but the way her lips formed the words.

Then all he could think about was how soft and succulent those lips were under his own, how the pulse, still under his thumb sped up all the more as he drew that plump bottom lip between his to taste it, to run the tip of his tongue over as he had longed to forever.

The blood pounded in his ears, and something broke loose inside of him, pushing all thought and rationalization away. There was only this. This woman, this moment, this FEELING.

And she was kissing him back. Her lips sipping at his, the hand on his shirt now clutching at the fabric and the sweet little noises she was making in the back of her throat. He angled his head and deepened the kiss, the contact, stroking her tongue with is own. He found his hands cupping her head, holding her there, her hair thread through his fingers, soft and golden. Want was rising to need, as she clung to him, responded to him, feeding and spreading the overwhelming desire.

She pulled back, gasping in air as her own passion-clouded eyes locked with his. "Doctor?" She sounded breathless and uncertain. "I'm not complaining here, but this is kinda out of nowhere, yeah?"

He shook his head, watching her lips move again, imaging them moving elsewhere. His whole body tight and throbbing with a need to make her his, to keep her with him, to possess and savour and protect, to taste and feel and devour.

"Need you. Want you so much." The words were dragged from him, deep and resonating. Honest and raw. The only coherent words filling his mind at the moment. "For so long. Too long."

Her eyes widened, and seemed bright with emotion. "Please don't do this to me if you're not dead certain. I don't think I could take it." Her hand released his shirt and her hot fingers traced his jaw, he could feel the light brush, the touch of her fingernails, and he leaned into the caress.

She scraped her teeth over her kiss swollen bottom lip and he felt a shiver of anticipation slither up his spine. But she was speaking again, words that wove through the scented fog filling his mind, his thoughts.

"You've been acting a bit off lately. And," she closed her eyes and shook her head, "I can't believe I'm saying this. I'm gonna hate myself later. But…" He watched her eyes open and something seemed to be warring within them. Desire and something softer. "You really have be sure of this."

He was sure. Absolutely certain. He was. But something deeper that need and desire and want was cutting through, aided by her words, her vulnerability. Rationality barely flickered and clung to that deeper emotion, clung to her.

"Rose? I think… I think there's something…" Intellect struggled with emotion, reason with desire. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. "wrong." The word was almost a whisper and he tried to grasp himself once more.

He felt his knees hit the floor as he struggled.

And Rose was on her knees before him. She looked afraid now, almost panicked. Her hands on his shoulders. Rose. His Rose. The only constant in the war in his own mind. There was always Rose, holding and filling and being.

"Jack!" She was calling, her voice shrill with rising panic as he fought himself. She was holding him up and he was clinging to her, his face tucked against her shoulder and neck, and he could smell her. She surrounded him. She was his universe, his hopes and dreams, and fears. She was all and everything.

"Oh God, JACK, We need help!" Her voice filled his head as her cry was so close to his ear.

He clung to her, felt her heartbeat, her breath. The awareness faded away.