AN: The Doctor quotes Alexander Pope. The Doctor denies any intent of violating the copyright of Alexander Pope. Information on Australian aboriginal culture has been gleaned by Internet research. I have purposely only made scanty references in hopes of avoiding some vile error.

On a bit of stony ledge, cresting the top of a small hill in the north of England, a tableau had formed. A lady sat vigil over her fallen knight. That the lady was dressed in anorak, sweater, jeans, and ancient hiking boots made no more difference to the tableau than the undeniable fact that her knight was a cricket-obsessed alien with a penchant for celery and time travel. For this given moment, the companions were knight and lady and the sun that shone and the wind that blew were sufficiently ageless even for the purposes of a Time Lord.

Sun aside, it was still a winter's day and Tegan's bum was beginning to complain about her stony seat. Her fingers drew tiny circles on the Doctor's temples and his fringe kept getting in the way. His head was propped on her thigh. He was either asleep or in one of his trances. All she knew was that he lay still and his eyes were closed. She kept up the motion and let her gaze drift across the landscape. She'd last visited this hill six years ago by the calendar. How long by actual time, she wasn't sure. TARDIS travel made a mockery of the rule of calendars. The perception of time was inconstant. Sometimes she had felt as if her journey had lasted decades, at least, but now that it was over it felt like time spent in a dream.

When she had been left behind at Heathrow after the Concorde incident, time that had been standing still suddenly rushed forward carrying her along willy-nilly. Aunt Vanessa's funeral had been an awful, awkward day. When it was over, she thought she'd woken up and had begun to live again. She had changed; of course she had changed. Who could step foot in the TARDIS and live the Doctor's life and come away unchanged? She was still there. A million years in the past, a million years in the future: there she was no matter how long she lived a day after day life in this era. That's what it meant to be a time traveler. Dreamtime. Tegan shivered. In her early life in Australia she had spent a lot of time with the local aboriginal tribe. She'd chattered away with the children and picked up language as children did, naturally and without thinking.

Tegan didn't consider herself fluent in the language or that she understood the people and their beliefs. Some of them were her friends, just that, and she had listened to their stories. Dreamtime. She had walked among the stars like a Sky Hero. Oh, Tegan. You have a Sky Hero in your lap. Isn't he like a myth come to life? Tegan looked down at the Doctor's face, leaning forward a trifle and trying not to disturb him. She fancied he looked more peaceful now. He's also like a man. Just like a man: an attractive blond-haired blue-eyed man. Awareness of this simple, obvious fact stirred up feelings she hadn't experienced for quite some time. She lifted her fingers away from his forehead.

She found it much easier to argue with the Doctor than be attracted to him. For one thing, she had a much better chance of winning an argument. So if I was in the Dreaming, and I left part of myself there forever, does that mean I'm arguing with him forever? Poor Doctor.

There was a dark place in her head where she stuffed pointless feelings of bitterness and regret at the opportunities she had wasted. She pictured it looking like a black hole. After having been rude to Adric over piloting the TARDIS, the Doctor had made amends by acceding to Adric's request to observe a black hole. The Doctor had taken them close to one and showed them the star-swallowing pit from the TARDIS observatory. Adric had gone on at length about something he called a CVE and Tegan had tuned him out while she gazed upon the horrible, majestic sight. It had been Nyssa the soft-spoken who had snapped at Adric and shaken off the Doctor's offer of comfort.

Tegan had followed Nyssa to their room and held the Traken girl through a rare storm of tears. They were so very unlike: dignified Nyssa and hot-tempered Tegan. The two young alien women had formed a bond over shared stories. Nyssa had tales of lost Traken and Nyssa's father Tremas whose body the Master had stolen. Tegan had been more talkative. She told Nyssa about her family and Australia and flight school and boyfriends. And she had told Nyssa about the Mara in the Dreaming and how she had learned that it was bad to be alone but worse to be alone with yourself.

Tegan's throat tightened. Nyssa had been the best friend Tegan had ever known. Traken had sounded like Utopia: a gentle, mannered culture that loved art and beauty but didn't scorn science. Nyssa was at once a genius and a lady to her fingertips. Her ability to cope with the staggering tragedy of the destruction of her whole world had helped Tegan live with her own pain. It had been easy to like Nyssa; and Nyssa had claimed she liked Tegan because she owned her emotions: that Tegan helped her express her own grief and anger.

Tegan privately thought the best thing she'd ever done for Nyssa was show her how to have a bit of fun now and then. She hoped that it was true and that Nyssa would not bury herself in work on Terminus and forget to take time for herself.

The Doctor had never shown whether he missed Nyssa, but he had been busy after her departure coping with Turlough and the Black Guardian. Nyssa had kissed the Doctor good-bye, chastely on the cheek like a birthday kiss to a favorite uncle. He seemed moved but uncertain as how to respond. If he'd been human he probably would have hugged Nyssa but instead he hung back with visible distress as he watched Nyssa and Tegan clinging together.

She should do it, before he left. Just hug him, because no matter how little Time Lords might be interested in sex, a kiss from her was different than a kiss from Nyssa. Hug him, because who would care enough to and have the nerve to do it if she didn't? And unless he and Nyssa had gotten up to things she didn't think either them were up to while she was gone, his body that was practically new might never be touched by more than a casual handshake or pat on the shoulder.

"Hmph," said Tegan quite grouchily and reflected that for all the time she'd known the Doctor she hadn't had sex either and for a while before that. During her hiatus from the TARDIS, she'd had opportunities, but she found it hard to be intimate when she couldn't talk about the most amazing thing that had ever happened to her. That wasn't going to change. A part of her would always be out in the Dreaming, and she'd never be whole… Shite. Go on like that and you may as well hang yourself. Things come to an end. If you ever felt anything for the Doctor besides the silly fancy of being in love with him, you'll honor what his friendship has meant to you by making the most of your life. Tegan sneered at herself. Drama. All those times you were nearly killed and here you are alive. Say good-bye to the Doctor with a smile. Hug him. Why not kiss him on the cheek? Or the lips. You want him to remember you, after all. Tegan's lips curved into a wry smile. "Just have to get up the nerve."

"The nerve for what?"

The Doctor's eyes were open and watching her face as she blushed like a fool. She hadn't meant to say that out loud even thinking he was asleep.

How long had he been asleep? It seemed he'd nodded off shortly after taking in the comforting heat of her thigh under his neck. The contact with her higher body temperature had been therapeutic in its own right and the stroke of her fingers on his forehead had made the headache drain away. Gallifreyans were telepathic, but usually only with effort and as in this case, touch. He could feel a glow of simple affection coming from his long-time companion and it was as soothing as the physical warmth of her body. His eyes had closed; he'd fallen asleep within minutes.

Perhaps a better question was: how long had he been awake? She had awakened him, not by sound or motion, but by a sense of distress. Since that moment he had lain quietly in her lap, watching what he could see of her face and thereon the swift rise and alteration of emotions that never ceased to amaze him. Humans were living flames, burning their lives away with reckless abandon. Tegan was one of the most volatile people he ever met who still managed to be a decent, compassionate person. She wasn't as cynical as she made out.

"Just have to get up the nerve," she said, her voice stressed with an intent he couldn't quite identify. He certainly wouldn't intrude on her mind deliberately.

"The nerve to what?"

"To kiss you." Shite. Her tongue was not to be trusted today. Tegan waited for the burn of embarrassment to spread over her face again. The blush failed to appear; she found herself simply looking at the Doctor.

He sat up and stared at her. The wind played with her short dark hair and the sunshine teased out the auburn tones. For once there wasn't a speck of makeup on her face and she was still beautiful. The Doctor began to assemble some sensible words and when he found out they made no sense he started making a joke. By the time he realized it wasn't funny, he was leaning in close to Tegan. The tip of his nose brushed hers and their breath mingled. Blue eyes looked into brown. Communication was occurring on a level far below conscious thought. He didn't have to analyze how the uptilt of her face signified invitation. He accepted with a kiss.

Tegan couldn't have moved for the end of the world. The noisy part of her mind was gabbling things to which she did not want to listen. The kiss was exquisitely gentle and neither of them closed their eyes. The sunshine seemed warmer than ever, but his shadow on her face was as cool as his lips.

Her lips were hot, fever hot, a cushion that gave under the pressure of his mouth. Behind that intriguing softness he felt the line of her teeth and felt himself poised to seek entrance.

But he would not. This had gone on long enough, indeed, far too long. The Doctor pulled back from the kiss. Tegan drew in a sharp breath. Her pupils were dilated and her lips were slightly swollen. The ever-present scientist in his head lectured about hormones and blood pressure and the anatomy of arousal in the human female.

What science did not cover was the expression on Tegan's face as she waited for him to speak. Because he was going to speak. He was going to apologize and say—but she knew what he would say. He could see her waiting for the list of perfectly good reasons why this kiss had been a foolish impulse.

The Doctor was silent. Tegan lifted her chin and squared her small shoulders and looked ready to bear up under his patronizing recital of things she already knew.

Instead, he kissed her again. He cupped her skull and slid his fingers into her hair. His thumb stroked her jaw asking her to yield to madness a second time. His mouth drank in the warmth of hers though he did not yet go further than the touch of lips.

He wants to kiss me. That thought temporarily silenced all the nervous voices in her head. The disbelief of the first kiss faded with the second. The mouth pressed to hers said more plainly than words that the Doctor knew what he wanted and how to get it. Tegan didn't want to listen to her thoughts. They weren't helping; they only said things she already knew:

I'm kissing an alien. The Doctor is kissing me. I'm kissing a man wearing a cricket jacket with celery in his lapel. He's centuries old. I always liked older men.

He's going to stop this any minute. He's going to go away and I'll never see him again.

That's when Tegan cupped the Doctor's face with her hands and kissed the Time Lord back with a vengeance. There was a summary dismissal of thought.

The Doctor hated backing down from a challenge. That's not why he kept kissing Tegan. At this point, he had to admit to himself what was quite obvious. He was kissing her because he wanted to kiss her. He was kissing her despite the fact that all good sense indicated that it was a bad idea. And since he was going to kiss her despite that, by Rassilon! he was going to do it properly.

A kiss can be like exploring a new world. You can take climate readings, but it doesn't tell you how the sun feels on your skin and how the land bears you up. The planet is solid underfoot, but it is a lie. All those tons of rock and water are falling through the void of space. You know this but space is empty and the world fills your senses. This is the world: the yielding lips, the press of teeth and the velvet stroke of tongue on tongue. The mutual embrace that adapts without thought until two are almost one and the impossibility of passing the barrier of clothes and skin serves as a goad to desire.

Tegan's breath and courage ran out at about the same moment. She broke the kiss, then dropped her face into the crook of the Doctor's neck. She didn't want to look at him just yet. If she listened right now, could she hear two hearts beating a little faster? And what's that smell? Oh.

The Doctor stroked the back of Tegan's head and wondered if she were crying. It didn't quite seem like Tegan, to simply break into tears. Slap him, perhaps, but not cry.

"Doctor?" Her voice was huskier than ever. He braced himself.

"I broke your celery." Tegan lifted her head. The celery stalk would never be the same.

"Small loss," the Doctor said cheerfully. He detached it from his lapel and tossed it downhill. Hormones. You do remember now that you have them? His emotional state was quite giddy and his intellect readied itself to control his reaction to the change in body chemistry. They both sat back.

"So what's with this kissing?"

"You didn't like it?" the Doctor inquired archly.

"Of course I did," Tegan said indignantly.

Ah, the indignation of Tegan Jovanka. Classic! Her voice got that strange note and her eyes narrowed. He couldn't resist teasing her. "It was your idea, after all."

"Only my idea? You were pretty quick to do something about it."

Yes, he had been, hadn't he? "But you liked it," he pointed out evasively.

"And you didn't?"

Why was she being difficult? It was much easier to kiss Tegan Jovanka than argue with her, obviously. Everything had gone along swimmingly until she'd run out of breath. "Certainly, I enjoyed it." The Doctor's voice performed an odd little dip and rise. Stress. "It's the sort of thing one does not do unless one enjoys it." He offered the gambit of conversation like a cape at a bull, offering another target for attack apart from himself.

Tegan had thought she'd gotten past her temper, but anger had caught up and now led the way. "I suppose it's just a natural progression, considering you couldn't keep your hands off me," she said, her chin poking out.

It might have been an ancient and gender-biased saying, but Tegan really was beautiful when she was angry. There was a glow to her skin and her eyes—

"I don't know what you're talking about," the Doctor said, honestly bewildered.

"Your little habit of escorting me about, a hand on the back or the arm."

"You're complaining because I was chivalrous?" he asked incredulously.

She shook her head. "You almost never touched the others like that. Even Nyssa. And it wasn't always polite. Just a couple of days ago you cuffed the back of my head. It's a wonder I've any wits left after the last few days."

"Really, I think you're exaggerating. When was this?"

"The TARDIS had just materialized. We were all clinging to the console after the turbulence in the Time Corridor. You passed behind me and slapped the back of my head," Tegan said, sounding ill-used. I should have just kissed him again. I KNEW if we started talking it would be over.

The Doctor opened his mouth to claim innocent intent, when an image flashed in front of his eyes. Tegan, bracing herself across the console in that short black leather skirt pulled taut and glossy across the curves of her hips. Her top had ridden up a little in the back and exposed the shadowy hollow of her spine. And he had touched her impulsively, displacing the temptation to pat her on the rump with a playful cuff to the head. His mouth snapped shut.

"Oh, bloody hell, I was right." Anger deserted Tegan in the wilderness and she didn't know which way to go.

He sat quietly for a moment longer while his efficient memory presented a catalogue of little gestures and touches over the span of his acquaintance with Tegan. And back further, a very dim memory that was peculiarly his alone out of all his incarnations: his time as the Watcher, partially embodied as an entity before his regeneration actually occurred. He had been given limited existence to warn and assist his fourth self.

She had been present at the first bifurcation. He had been observing the TARDIS but his attention was drawn to the little human drama of Tegan, her aunt, and their struggle to change the flat tire. The older woman had actually waved at him and he saw darkness approaching her. "It's the 1980s, Aunt Vanessa," Tegan had said. "There are no knight errants." She had looked over her shoulder, but he could tell she did not see him.

He was himself only present through a time distortion, and his locus in time was not fixed. He had only been waiting for his past self to step out of the TARDIS and catch sight of the ominous apparition. From the Watcher's vantage point, it was impossible to miss that these two women were going to influence him. The older woman was going to die. The younger woman was going to leave her life in another fashion entirely. In his unique state of being, he could perceive the twisting of the time stream as she stepped into the TARDIS and the door closed behind her. Then Vanessa had gone to the TARDIS, only to meet the Master. He was the Watcher. He had no power to save her. In his past she was already dead.

The Doctor looked away from Tegan. The memory of witnessing her aunt's murder had scarred this incarnation from the beginning but he had never before accessed it.

Tegan laid her hand on the Doctor's shoulder. He looked so troubled. She shouldn't have tried to insist on the human view of sex. What did it matter if she were right if it made him unhappy? "I'm sorry. My awful temper again."

He turned back to her. His voice took on the bass tones of one of his serious moods. "I always thought you were beautiful." The young woman's eyes widened. She should be surprised. He had teased her, manipulated her, argued with her, and pretended that he didn't feel attraction towards her. Of course she had known it. The body language of sexual attraction was similar in most humanoid societies and this went for Gallifrey as well as Earth. She would have felt the give and take of response on an instinctual level. That he did not act on it was his privilege. Now he had acted, and the matter was out in the open.

"I had never intended to do anything about it. I don't believe I have to go into why." The Doctor watched her nod solemnly. The sorrow in her eyes reminded him of the aborted leave-taking in the warehouse only two days ago.

"I guess I could come up with a few dozen reasons as to why it wouldn't work out," she said with dry humor.

"So why did I kiss you? Because I wanted to. Why now? Because you're leaving. Because you wanted it. Because there'll never be a better chance."

"That's terrible," Tegan said, one hand flailing the air.

"You chose to leave," the Doctor tried not to sound exasperated.

"I didn't mean that. It's only—you don't—" She shook her head as if trying to knock her thoughts into place. "It's terrible you don't let anyone touch you. There you are, a practically new body and it's hardly been… touched. Hugged. Loved. Unless it has and I should just shut up now," the last words burbled out of Tegan's mouth as it occurred to her, too late as usual, that he might have had a private life. By definition, one private from her, and one involving the snogging of any number of women or whatever gender of willing adult.

The Doctor said gently, "I know touch is very important to humans, Tegan. Infants can actually die without touch. But I'm—"

"Not human, I know, I KNOW! And I still say… it's a damned shame, Doctor. What did you say to that Cyberleader? Something about enjoying the simple pleasures of life? Well, you're missing out on at least one of them. Are you flesh and blood, or aren't you?"

"I think that's been proven today. So, Tegan, what does it matter? Do you want me to kiss you again? I will, if you like." The Doctor smiled at his longtime companion, trying to get her to smile back.

"And do you? Like?"

"Yes."

Tegan kneeled in front of him and cupped his face in her hands. "Since you ask so nicely, Doctor, I'd be glad to kiss you," she said. She gave a low, shaky chuckle and leaned in to trace the outline of his mouth with warm little kisses. Then she started placing them over the rest of his face with a kind of playfulness he couldn't remember seeing in her before. Here and there, always returning to his lips with increasing heat and passion. Except when her kisses landed near his eyes, he kept them open. The freedom she exhibited revealed something he had always missed in her.

He'd always expected, with her looks and her age and native era, that she'd be comfortable with her sexuality. But she had never flirted to get her way, or traded on her beauty. Tegan was hardheaded and forthright and tried to pull her weight even when the situation was over her head. A tomboy, she was, even in perpetual high heels and makeup. Now she was revealing how female she could be, with tenderness and warmth that affected him more strongly than the sexual charge of her touch.

She hadn't felt like this for years, and she'd given up hope long ago of feeling it with him. "Cranleigh Hall," she murmured. Her forehead touched his and she rubbed noses with him. "I waited for you to come down. I wanted to dance with you, and I thought I'd see…" she kissed him again, laughter starting up from her throat.

"See what?"

"If a Time Lord who enjoyed his body enough to play cricket could enjoy other sports. And what happens? You find secret passages, a body, and get accused of murder. In terms of playing hard to get, you're an Olympian, Doctor."

"Natural talent, no doubt." His hands spanned her waist; he drew her closer. "This can't go on, Tegan."

"I know. You're leaving."

She came to rest against him, cradled in his arms. He whispered against her hair, "'Ye Gods! Annihilate but space and time, and make two lovers happy.'" Tegan kissed his throat and he sighed.

"I wouldn't ask a favor of a God who would do that. I've seen enough annihilation, thank you." She traced a fingertip along his neck over the rim of his collar. "I'll tell you what's going to happen, Doctor. We're going to go back to the TARDIS. We're going to have a splendid time making love. Afterwards, I will collect a few keepsakes while you dig Turlough out of whatever snug place he's found himself. Then you're going to leave and never come back."

"Tegan, I should not—" She put her fingers to his mouth to stop the words.

"What, break my heart? I'm indestructible, remember?" She put her arms around his neck and with her cheek to his, whispered in his ear, "Besides, it's too late."

Indeed. He stroked a hand down Tegan's back and with his eyes closed, breathed in the fragrance that rose from the red hot pace of human vitality. No human was really ordinary once he got to know one. They were all alien and exotic, cramming as much life as they could into ten decades.

"All right." The Doctor helped Tegan to her feet. "I yield. For once, you've won the argument." He kissed her hand.

"For once? As I recall I've won lots of them," she said mock protesting.

"Maybe we should call it a draw?"

"We both win? I like that." She kept hold of his hand.

Looking back from this height the way they came, he could see the TARDIS. It would be a faster walk back, and not only because it was down hill all the way.

fin

For this is Wisdom; to love, to live
To take what fate, or the Gods may give.
To ask no question, to make no prayer,
To kiss the lips and caress the hair,
Speed passion's ebb as you greet its flow
To have, - to hold - and - in time, - let go!
- - - -Laurence Hope