CHAPTER TWO: ADVENTURES

From there, it wasn't quite so cold between them. As if the wave of tension had broken upon reaching the shore, their conversations flowed naturally.

"Where next?"

Remus grinned. (It suited him.) "I dunno." He laughed. "...Somewhere purple."

"Purple?" the Doctor asked, incredulous.

But he remembered plenty of planets in varying shades of lilac and fuchsia. He wracked his brain for something Remus might enjoy—because, he realised, he wanted Remus to enjoy himself, he really did—and grinned as he remembered a good one.

"I've never been," The Doctor said, "But a friend of mine advised it—well, not really, but that doesn't matter. She told me it was a little cold, so open the wardrobe over there, will you? I think there are some decent coats somewhere in there." He looked towards Remus, who was peering into the cupboard doubtfully. "Right to the back! I once spent a year in a closet in Artesia. Terrible experience, but I got some inspiration for the decor."

Flicking switches and pressing the Y button on the keyboard, The Doctor felt like he was back to himself again: a jumble of too many thoughts and not enough time to process them all. He hadn't felt so comfortable in his own skin since he'd left Rose … how long ago was that in the funny sort of time he kept while travelling? Months? A year, even? He'd been travelling alone for a while until Remus had come along. He turned to smile at the other man, who was picking coats off the floor, looking at each of them with confusion.

"These are … odd," Remus said. "What time are these from?"

"All sorts, I think. But that grey one you've got there's definitely 90's. 3090's, I mean, not … what year are you from again?"

His voice was terse. "You picked me up in 1981. Beginning of November."

"Ah! Princess Diana, the DeLorean, and the first-ever London Marathon. Oh, and that Headingley test—brilliant stuff, that. Great year. But you missed the tornadoes, I think. Lucky! They were —will be , for you—record-breaking, you know, devastating, but nothing compared to the time storms on Gallifrey, of course." He paused, frowning at Remus. "Are you all right?"

Remus was staring at him, his hands clenched in fists. He had a look of horror or anger or disgust on his face (perhaps all three). "No," he said at long last, his voice quiet. "No, I don't think I am."

The Doctor remembered a silhouette teetering on the railing of a bridge, and waited for him to explain.

"It's like … you're treating it as if it's a series of facts, you know? And that … that was my life. That was the last year of my life—and the worst year of my life, too. Of course, I was far too busy to care about a royal wedding. And who cares about a bloody car? And I've never heard of the London Marathon, though I guess I don't know much about Mug—" He cut himself off. "About normal life."

The Doctor looked at him in concern. "And what were you doing? This past year?"

A pause. "Fighting a war," Remus said so softly that The Doctor almost missed it.

"I didn't know there was—"

"I'm not supposed to say. Maybe another time."

"All right." He took a breath, forcing that smile back onto his face. "Grab a coat then, Remus! Welcome to Omphalos Prime."

They stepped outside and onto the lilac-tinged ground of Omphalos Prime. Remus had chosen a bomber jacket, true to his seventies roots, and The Doctor had looked at the coats for a good few moments before making a disgusted face and donning his usual thin brown overcoat, cold be damned.

It wasn't even that cold. The sun was reasonably far away, but the lack of cloud cover (seeing as there was no water on Omphalos Prime) meant that at times like this, in the middle of the fifty-seven-hour day, it was similar to a brisk autumn evening on Earth. When night fell, however, The Doctor knew that wouldn't be the case.

"We have about ten hours until it gets really cold, I'd guess," he said, spinning in a lazy circle to take everything in.

It was flat here, but the ground was hard rock with a violet tinge. A rough layer of fungal growth had spread across the entire plain and a few stray weeds crawled out of the cracks in the rocks. Both of these lifeforms, of course, were purple.

"Brilliant," The Doctor muttered with a laugh. "It really is all purple."

"Apart from this," he heard Remus's voice from behind him mutter.

He turned to see Remus crouching some ways away, and when he stepped over to take a look, he saw the slab of pale blue rock sitting amongst the purple. "Fascinating," he said, pulling his glasses out of his pocket and putting them on. He got onto his knees and licked the rock.

Remus made a face. "That could be poisonous."

"Yes. It could. But it isn't." He leapt to his feet and pulled his sonic screwdriver out, waving it around vaguely to scan for life-forms on the planet.

"What? What is it?"

"I forgot the year. 2856, I think. This is not yet part of the Earth Empire."

"Earth Empire? You mean, we actually get out here? Properly, I mean. Not just the moon, and all that."

"Yeah. It's brilliant, isn't it?" He found himself giving Remus that grin that Rose had always loved. 'That stupid grin of yours,' she'd always said to him. 'Like you're drunk on adventure.' The Doctor felt his face fall, and he quickly turned around to hide the sudden flare of pain in his chest. "But yeah," he said, still hiding his face and trying to keep his voice light. "That's why it's so empty. Hasn't been populated yet."

"Cor. When I tell—" Remus trailed off.

Seemed like they were both biting their tongues out here.

"All right. Where next then?"

Omphalos Prime, for all its purpleness, got boring rather quickly. The Doctor had that remarkable blue stone stuffed into the pocket of his coat for another time.

"I don't know. What're the options?" Remus slung himself into the battered yellow seat.

He thought for a moment. "I do love the first French Revolution back on Earth," he suggested.

"Nah, I'm sick of Earth. Just … stay out of that whole blasted solar system. I want to see the stars."

The Doctor turned around, giving Remus a concerned glance. "Not even Mars?"

A tightening of the other man's lips. "Please, Doctor. Don't even go near Earth."

There was something in Remus's eyes. Something in the harsh angles of his cheeks. Something in the depth of his scars and the tension of his shoulders. Remus Lupin still had secrets, and they were all waiting for him at home.

"Memories, eh?" The Doctor asked softly.

Remus stared at him for a moment. "Yeah. They … as soon as we land on Earth I feel as though they'll circle the TARDIS like hungry wolves, waiting for me to step out, and then—" He clenched his fists. "We can't go to Earth."

"I have stuff to do back on Earth, you know. Official duties. Etcetera."

"This … this is a time machine. When I'm dead, or something, you can just travel back in time to do that."

"Look, Remus, there are fixed points in time. Things I can't change if they happen without me. It's hard to explain." He drew his eyebrows together in a frown. "And you're not going to die anytime soon. You're stuck with me."

Later, after a holiday at a planet resort and a few hours of exploration in an underground forest, he found Remus sitting on a step on one of the lower levels of the TARDIS.

"Remus?" he asked, almost afraid to do so; the man looked on the brink.

"Could I bring them back?" came the slightly wounded voice from Remus.

The Doctor carefully stepped around Remus's long limbs and sat in front of him.

"Could I use the TARDIS and stop them from dying? I could warn them. I could tell them everything. Save them."

"Remus—"

"And don't tell me it's a bad idea. It means a child gets his parents back. It means three good people lived who would've died. And I … I wouldn't be alone any more." The Doctor watched as Remus swallowed back his tears. "They are so wonderful. Were so wonderful. And to think … to think I could save them. I can't believe I only just thought of it. Can we—"

"No." And his voice was harsh.

Remus's eyes were dark with pain. "Why not?" His voice was wrecked, throat choked with sobs.

The Doctor paused. "We can't just—"

"Yes, we can! You've told me about what you do. You save people! In the past! Surely that affects everything!"

Looking at the man now, the Doctor can see what drove him to the edge of that bridge. The loss of his friends left Remus almost empty. Empty and alone.

And those golden eyes, for the first time, were rich and full of hope.

It hurt, that he knew he had to crush that. It hurt, that Remus's one hope was a fruitless one. The Doctor had always been drawn to broken people.

"I used to travel with this girl," he said, gently (as if that would soften the blow). "She said she wanted to see her father again. And then we went back. She saved his life, and it ruined everything. The father had to die in order to fix time itself."

"Fuck time itself. I don't … I think I would rather die than live in a world without them." Remus gave a bitter laugh. "Look, if you can't help me, drop me off back at that bridge and I'll finish what I started."

Silence for a moment.

"I can help you, Remus. Just not like this."

And then the TARDIS started to pulse impatiently around them. The Doctor stared at the other man, whose tears were now running freely down his cheeks. Remus stood, hands shaking, jaw clenched.

"No. If you can't do this for me, you're not helping at all."

The Doctor made it up to him (tried, really tried) by taking him to watch a star be born. He flew the TARDIS through the Medusa Cascade (one of his favourites, always had been), touched down on beautiful uninhabited planets, stopped a Zygon invasion on a remote agricultural planet. Remus pretended their conversation hadn't happened at all, plastering a smile beneath those freckled cheeks and staying silent for their adventures.

And the Doctor hated it. He wanted Remus's clever comments back, his sarcasm and insight. He wanted Remus to be shocked, amazed, awed by the places the Doctor took him. He wanted Remus Lupin back, not this pretender.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, one day as they stood underneath a waterfall. They were on an Earth-like planet, and Remus seemed sadder than ever, staring up at the twin moons with something like nostalgia. Something like pain.

(And the Doctor hated that. Oh, how he wanted to smooth the lines from Remus's brow.)

Water thundered all around them, spraying lightly against their trouser legs. The Doctor was just staring at Remus, as Remus stared up at the moons. And he said, "I'm sorry."

Remus turned slowly to look at him. "What for?"

"I can't save your friends. And I wish I could."

He was barely whispering above the roar of the waterfall, but Remus seemed to pick up every word. "'S all right," he said. "They're dead. And I should be coming to terms with that, or whatever. Not looking for impossible solutions."

The Doctor didn't know what to say to that. He just nodded.

But after a second thought, "I want you to be happy. I think you were, for a while. Before you started thinking about it."

"I was," Remus said. "Thank you. For that."

"Then how can I make you stop thinking about it again? Where can I take you?" The Doctor frowned; Remus was giving him a strange look, a calculated stare that he'd never seen on his face. He lowered his voice. "Tell me, Remus."

The sunlight—dim, on this planet, and soft—caught Remus's eyes until they turned the colour of honey. "You don't have to take me anywhere," he said, and leaned forwards, and kissed the Doctor.

It was over in an instant, over before the Doctor could even think about how to react.

Remus was just looking at him, and he still seemed sad, but he smiled. "Sorry," he said. "I had to."

"It's … well." He cleared his throat, lifting a hand to feel his lips. (He could still feel Remus's mouth against them, feather-light.) "I don't know if I … I just lost someone, you know. Recently. And I don't think I can … you know."

Remus seemed to find his confidence in the kiss, rather than lose it. "Yeah, I know. And I don't expect anything to come of this. I just wanted to know what it was like."

"Oh," the Doctor said, not quite understanding. "All right."

"I just thought … well, I thought it would be less awkward. If I was hiding that. I don't want to do anything either. Not if you don't."

Silence for a moment. The water against rocks, and light through Remus's hair, and the distant squabbling noises of the local animals.

"Who did you lose?" Remus asked gently.

The Doctor looked down. "Her name was Rose," he said, before realising that he had barely thought of her at all, recently. He felt a pang of guilt.

And Remus didn't say 'I'm sorry,' or any other kind (empty) thing that people tended to say; he just looked at the Doctor, and understood. And the Doctor was thankful for that.

The water roared and the soft light faded and the two men stood across from each other, having shared a name and a kiss. They weren't in love, and they weren't lovers, and they would never kiss again. They were just two men, alone together on a distant Earth-like planet. And that was all right.

When they got back to the TARDIS, exhausted from doing nothing at all, Remus gave the Doctor a smile before heading off to find somewhere to sleep. Whatever tension between them had been broken, and the stars were ready for them once more.

(Maybe he'd take Remus back to the Medusa Cascade; they hadn't seen it properly last time.)

"Where do you want to go?" he asked, leaping up to the controls, hands hovering, ready to take them anywhere (everywhere).

"I didn't really see the Medusa Cascade properly," Remus said. "Was busy thinking."

The Doctor made a face. "The Medusa Cascade is boring," he said. Because really, he was the Time Lord here—shouldn't he be the one to direct the TARDIS? (Or maybe he's become a control freak since the last time he let a companion choose where they wanted to go.)

(It had been Rose, he thought belatedly. She'd wanted to go to a garden ("Any garden," she'd said, "as long as it's gorgeous."

"You're gorgeous," he'd wanted to say. But he hadn't.)

And he pressed whatever buttons he could reach, letting the TARDIS take them anywhere. (Anywhere but a garden.)

They sat on the lip of the TARDIS again, staring out into space as they had done in their first few days together.

"Y'know, you have … you had a her—Rose—well … I've got a him, I s'pose."

The Doctor looked towards Remus, who was looking down at his feet as they dangled above the stars. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. And he's gone, too. Gone in the way that matters, at least."

The Doctor tried to find something to say but settled with closing his mouth firmly and staring back out towards the stars.

After a moment of silence, Remus snorted a laugh. "Aren't we ridiculous? Two lonely broken men trying to lose ourselves out here."

The Doctor frowned. "That's … that's not why I do this." He thought of the people he'd saved, the planets he'd explored. Then he thought of the people he'd killed, and the planets he'd left behind.

"Is it not?"

The Doctor spent a moment just looking at the hard angles of Remus's face, of the scars bisecting his freckles and the curls of hair brushing the tops of his ears. Suddenly, he barked a laugh, cutting the sound off as soon as it came. "Remus Lupin, you are … you are so good. You've told me something even I didn't know."

Remus snorted, suddenly grinning. "Oh, shut it. As if you know everything."

The Doctor laughed again and didn't stop this time. "You'd be surprised."

"Oh, really?"

"I suppose it is a little ridiculous, isn't it? Running away like this."

It wasn't funny. It wasn't funny at all, but the two of them laughed bitterly into the stars and didn't stop for a very long time.

So I really wanted it to be slash. But Remus still loves Sirius, really, and the Doctor isn't one to fall in love easily, especially so soon after Rose. So there's no real slash here. But there could've been. Oh well. Idk what this is. I like it anyway.