The Doctor and Tegan have a long discussion in the vicinity of a bed.
She had four messages: one from Turlough, one from Leela, and two from Environmental Services, or as she thought of it, 'Housekeeping.'
Turlough: 'Tegan, this is Turlough. I can't reach the Doctor, and you're probably with him, as you're not accepting calls either. Please let me know if you're both all right and if there's anything I can do.'
Tegan tried contacting Turlough, and wasn't too surprised to find him out. She left him a reassuring message.
Leela: 'If you need me, I will come to you.'
That was the whole message. Tegan's eyes prickled with tears. If only there was something she could think of to do that would be some return for Leela's friendship. Living on Gallifrey would have been far less pleasant without it.
The next message queued up. 'A package has been delivered,' was all it announced.
"What? Where is it?" The package had been delivered to the antechamber of her apartment. It was rather bulky, but not heavy. It took Tegan a couple of minutes to puzzle out how to open it. The packaging material sprang open and she was ambushed by dark, warm fluffiness. It wasn't, as she had first thought, an animal. Her arms instinctively pushed away, and the object flopped at her feet. Realizing it was inanimate, she picked it up again. It was larger than the package had suggested, and must have been somehow compressed inside.
It was the same furry material that she had felt in Martusan's vat. There, in the dim lighting, she hadn't seen more than a glossy darkness. She let the luxurious weight of it slide through her hands. As it spilled in a curve, its rich color fired under the light. The tip of each hair was red, the shaft deep brown fading to tawny gold at the base. Tegan coveted it more than any mink she'd seen on a movie star. She gathered it all up, finding it light for its size, and spread it on her bed.
Though she suspected Martusan's motives, she couldn't find it in herself to reject the gift. All right, she'd admit he possessed genuine sensuality. He simply wasn't going to get the opportunity to exercise it with her.
Was that last message from him? She'd listen to it later. If she was going to keep his gift, she'd have to at least thank him. And then make it clear that she was…
Was what? Tegan was willing to bet that by now she'd seen a lot of Gallifreyan sexual practices, but nothing that gave her a clue about her and the Doctor. As usual, he wasn't conforming to anyone's rules. She spread the fur on the bed. It wasn't quite large enough to cover the bed, but it made a fine-sized throw. She lay down on it and ran her fingers through the lush pelt that had never grown by an animal.
What did she want to make of those kisses? The angry Tegan, who had promised herself to be practical and realistic, who had sworn she would never take to her any man who did not see her as his equal, said it was only sex. Gallifreyans felt lust, and she was near, and to be frank, available. She'd be the lover to the President of Gallifrey, and one day return to Earth with the memories of exotic alien sex to warm her into old age.
Part of her, dancing, wanted to believe the Doctor could love her. That was a high-wire act, to balance on the edge of disaster. Even if she didn't fall, one day she'd have to come down to earth; indeed, to Earth.
Her fingers kneaded the fur. There was not now and perhaps never had been any safe escape. Tegan had always known that the Doctor could break her heart. She'd kept herself proud, aloof and skeptical, playing the hardheaded one that the Universe had to work to impress. For all of his age and experience, the Doctor had kept one innocent quality. He loved to be amazed by the wonders he found in his travels. He'd rather be surprised that his expectations weren't met than cynically expect the worst. It was simultaneously exasperating and endearing.
Oh, these Gallifreyan men. The sad thing was that she could understand Lord Martusan perfectly. He saw the unmet needed in her, and offered to meet it. She could give her body to him and get release, and never ever risk her heart. She'd had that kind of sex before. She'd promised herself she wouldn't do it again.
The Professor made a perfect unthreatening father figure. He saw her as young and fragile, to be protected from careless exploitation. Keludar was hungry, needing to be filled in ways she could not meet. It was not his likeness to the Master that repelled her, but to Marriner, the Eternal. Tegan knew too well that sex could never fill the void of un-love. Whatever he'd meant to do with his challenge, she hoped he'd finished with his obsession.
With the Doctor, she had betrayed herself and yielded a share of her heart. For a woman soured on romance, he was the perfect friend and an impossible standard by which to measure all other men. They had risked their lives for each other. He meant too much for Tegan to be casual. She avoided using him in her private fantasies, on those rare occasions when she couldn't suppress her sexual needs.
That wouldn't work any more. They had acknowledged desire. At this very moment, she could feel the echoes of his kiss. It would be easy to strip, wrap herself in this fur, and go offer herself unconditionally. Could she be brave enough to let her heart get broken? Was there a choice any more?
"Oh, hell. Too much thinking."
- o - O - o -
Tegan lay staring up at the ceiling, cradled in softness. She could still taste the Doctor on her lips. If he hadn't been in pain, how far would they have gone? Her fingers remembered solid flesh under cool Gallifreyan skin, and the thought of feeling him bare against all of her inspired a flare of heat. Her hands fisted in the fur. Where did good sense leave off and cowardice begin?
"Tegan?" He called from the other room; he must have come in from the garden.
"Doctor? I'm in here." She sat upon the bed, and he appeared at the door of her bedroom, wearing a dressing gown over his white trousers. "What's the diagnosis?"
"Some time in a healing trance is advised," the Doctor said unenthusiastically. He hesitated on the threshold, then came towards the bed. "Where in Rassilon's name did you find that fur?"
Tegan blushed despite herself. "It was delivered to my apartment with no name on the package. I assume it's from Lord Martusan. He showed me something like it while he was giving us the tour of the hydroponics facility."
"Showed you, and not Turlough?" The Doctor raised an inquiring eyebrow.
"He seems to fancy himself a ladies man." Tegan surveyed him as he came up to the edge of the bed. "Are you jealous?" She did not ask archly, or angrily: she was almost afraid of the answer.
"The assumption that I have control over any aspect of your life is at the very least bad manners. That said: yes, I'm jealous. I don't intend to let jealousy influence my actions. That is emotional detachment, Tegan, to have emotions yet not be motivated by them." His expression had been stern, now he smiled again. "Unless I choose it. What did Martusan say to you, that he didn't say to Turlough?"
Tegan regarded him warily. "He said that he had a fur like this on his bed, and that I should imagine what it felt like on bare skin. That he knew humans enjoyed touch."
"All very true, and designed to make you think of what you don't have: touch. I wonder where he got such knowledge? The image of you lying naked on that fur is stimulating. He sent you that fur so he could have that image in his head."
She felt a rush of warmth throughout her body, hearing that familiar voice grow slightly hoarse and seeing the desire in his eyes. "Doctor, I don't know you like this."
"May I sit down?" She nodded her permission, and he sat down on the edge of the bed more than an arm's length away. "I'm centuries old, Tegan. It's obvious there's a lot you don't know about me, but that's not important. For the past few weeks I've been trying to be more intimate with you. I haven't been planning your seduction. I want you to be happy on Gallifrey, and I want you to know that I care for you and respect you. We have both lived the lives given us. How can you be less for not being a Time Lord when that possibility did not exist for you? Why am I more because I had the opportunity?"
He reached out to her then, and not able to touch her, looked as though he regretted the choice of seat. Tegan put out her hand to meet his. "Life isn't fair. It just isn't."
"No, it isn't. The universe cannot create justice without minds to hold the concept. Tegan, don't you see? I've always tried to make things more fair where I could. You have taught me that, you have all taught me that, the people I've traveled with. I would be less than I am without you." His fingers tightened on hers, he spoke in a rush with the light of enthusiasm in his eyes.
Tegan smiled at him, her eyes misting. "That's my Doctor."
"My plan was for us to become better friends, nothing more. At Otherstide… " He paused and shook his head. "I don't know if you can understand how you looked in the eyes of Gallifreyans. We are born old. I didn't learn what it meant to be young until I left Gallifrey. You were… new. Like a fresh snowfall, like the promise of spring after winter. At the same time, you were simply Tegan, a traveler from a primitive world, and you were there to dance. You embodied the moment as if we were all there only because you were there, as if Gallifrey had existed for millions of years so that you could be there to dance with me."
She couldn't say anything. He held her hand, but looked away from her, his face slightly flushed. "Then I had to let you go to dance with others. It is a minor consolation that I wasn't the only man there making a cake of himself. Or woman."
"So you're saying I brought Gallifrey to its knees with the nape of my neck?"
He chuckled. "The rest of you played a part. Tegan, no one calculated that night. All that occurred was a spontaneous reaction to beauty, a fortunate coincidence of artist and audience. All you did was be yourself."
"I can't do anything else." She'd meant to go on and say something typically flippant, but her throat tightened on the words.
The Doctor ran his thumb across the inside of her wrist. "Do you realize that when we touch like this, we're exchanging energy? Chemical, kinetic, even psychic."
"Psychic?" Tegan was skeptical.
"Oh, yes, in multiple layers. There's the simple mental comprehension of contact, the subconscious awareness of body language, then the rarefied strata of the deep consciousness that registers the mingling of our auras."
"You're taking all the romance out of hand-holding, Doctor."
His shoulders slumped. "Sorry, this doesn't come easily to me."
She tugged at his hand. "You were trying to be romantic?"
"Tegan, I'm having a very complex biochemical reaction to your presence, with some fascinating energetic phenomena. It seems appropriate to respond in the romantic mode to these sexual cues. Of course, you are not obligated to respond," he explained scrupulously.
"You're babbling, Doctor." She squeezed his hand, then scooted closer. "I'm awful at romance. It's okay to be awful at it." He was looking at her sidelong with his blond fringe hanging in front of his eyes. She kicked off her boots, then tucked her stockinged feet under herself. "We had our romantic moment. I was afraid it didn't mean to you what it meant to me. It was…" she had to take a deep breath to get the word out, "magical. But that doesn't last." She held their still joined hands up. "So tell me about the aura mingling." Tegan rested her cheek against his shoulder.
The Doctor drew a deep breath. "If we were enemies, our auras would be shielded out of instinctive reaction. However, we are friends, and we have kissed. The mouth is a fount of vital energies. That previous contact amplifies the embrace of hands." His words were scientific, but his voice was tender.
Tegan untwined their fingers and fit her palm flat to his larger hand. "Our hands are kissing?"
"Yes." He shifted slightly, and cool lips brushed her temple. She laughed and lifted her head, turning to meet his kiss with hers. Their fingers locked together again. The position was awkward. They turned, shifted together, until Tegan was lying back on the fur with the Doctor leaning over her.
He did not pin her. She rested in the curve of his arm. Through all this, their hands remained clasped. The contact felt as necessary as his mouth on hers. Her body lay relaxed and languid, confined by her clothing. The Doctor shifted, and then suddenly winced as the motion pained him. "No, no," she murmured against his mouth, "You need that trance, not to make out." She laughed a little, still finding the thought of the Doctor making out hard to believe.
The Doctor hovered above her, the blue of his eyes smoky under hooded lids. Then he sighed and rolled carefully to his back. "Desire is difficult to resist," he rumbled, "when you let yourself feel it."
Tegan sat up and leaned over him, planting a hand on the other side of his body. "Stay with me, here. Go into your trance, and I'll sleep next to you." She smoothed his hair back from his face, and it lay golden against the dark fur.
The Doctor's mulish expression softened. "All right."
Her heart thumped. This world was full of lost children, including Turlough, and she was Wendy playing mother. She kissed the Doctor's forehead, but he caught her face between his hands before she could move away. He drew her down to his mouth for a kiss that was all adult.
"All right," she said, pulling free and sliding off the bed. She helped him kick off his shoes. "Make yourself comfortable. I'm going to have a quick wash up. Don't wait for me."
The Doctor rearranged himself on the bed. "Tegan, allow me to thank Lord Martusan for the fur, on behalf of us both. That should discourage him."
He sounded entirely too smug, and Tegan called over her shoulder, "Who said I wanted him discouraged? You're a very busy man, Doctor." She closed the hygiene chamber door on his exasperation.
- o - O - o -
Tegan exited clad in nightgown and robe. She padded barefoot to the bed and peeked at the Doctor. He was lying like a crusader's tomb effigy, his clean profile still, hands solemnly crossed over his chest. She crawled onto the bed as quietly as she could and sat beside him.
Long ago, she had seen him lying like this and invoking his respiratory bypass while he waited for breathing apparatus to be assembled for him. She, Adric, and Nyssa had had to watch while his breath stopped. He had put himself in harm's way for her many times since. Tonight he had fought for her, and a primitive part of her mind said he'd won her by right. It was tempting to surrender herself, but unjust. The Doctor had never expected reward for the brave things he did, he did them because they were right. She had to honor that.
He had selected one side of the fur coverlet and lay atop it. Tegan slipped under the other side and nestled down close by him. They were barely touching, but the tangible presence of him next to her was a comfort she'd missed for years. She fell quickly asleep.
tbc