A Teaspoon And An Open Mind: A Doctor Who Fan Fiction Archive
Fifth Doctor, Eighth Doctor
The Present by Ciclamino [Reviews - 0] Printer
Author's Notes:
This is my translation of my own drabble which was originally written in Russian.
Thanks to wonderful Блейн for beta work.
Written for lovely Katherine as a fill to one of her prompts.

Turlough chucks an apple to the Doctor, and he catches it, never taking his guarded look off Turlough.

“I’m still not convinced that I know you,” says the Doctor before getting his teeth into the crispy apple. He is deeply concentrated while doing that — as if he doesn’t feel any danger coming from the suspicious stranger Turlough.

Though who’d know better than Turlough how deceptive the Doctor’s carefree behavior really is. And how true it is, if it comes to that.

Turlough watches the Doctor, setting his elbows deep into the soil. His long, curly hair is in dire need of brushing by now — the short cut was much more utilitarian; and this Doctor’s eyes are big and sad, sadder than Turlough can ever recall. It’s like the Doctor is aware of something he can’t elude though he’d love to. Perhaps he is. One never knows with the Time Lords.

“And as for me — I can’t believe you’ve forgotten me,” says Turlough. “Someone must have messed with your memory on purpose. Or, well, something happened… of itself. Such things tend to happen to you from time to time.”

“You don’t have the face of a man who appreciates of things happening of themselves,” points out the Doctor. Soft orange rays of the Trion sun are wrapping his silhouette in layers of swirling glow. “Tell me. Tell me what our connection is. I want to know.”

“You always want to know.” Turlough smiles. “About everything, always.” It is rather weird to be missing the Doctor while lying barely a yard from him on the grass but Turlough can’t really help it. “I travelled with your fifth incarnation for some time.”

“I remember Nyssa and Peri,” muses the Doctor thoughtfully. “And Tegan and Adric. But not you. Though now my memories seem to lack something.”

“Someone, not something,” corrects Turlough sounding somewhat sulky.

They keep silent for a while. The Doctor munches on the remnants of the apple, and Turlough inhales deeply the mixed smell of the dry grass and apple juice.

“All in all, there’s something you’re bound to remember,” says Turlough. He rolls onto his stomach and takes the Doctor by the wrist to touch the steady double pulse with his lips.

Under his touch the pulse grows twice as quick, and Turlough licks his way up the vein slowly as far as the long sleeves let him.

The Doctor knocks Turlough onto his back and pins his hands to the ground before kissing him. The Doctor’s lips are wet with the apple, the dry grass pricks Turlough in the back of the neck. He frees his hands rapidly and pulls away the Doctor’s thick long and annoying jacket.

If the Doctor never remembers the past, Turlough will give him the present. The present was quite enough for both of them back then, in the past.

It shall suffice now as well.
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