“We’ve arrived!” the Doctor was announcing as Tegan entered the TARDIS console room.
“Really?” she asked, grinning with excitement. “We’re really there?”
“We’re on Earth,” the Doctor began. Tegan’s expression changed, the grin fading from her lips. “Really, it’s very close,” he reassured her.
Tegan groaned. “Let me guess,” she said a bit sarcastically. “We’re not in Times Square and it’s not December 31, 1999. Am I right, Doctor?”
The Doctor rather ostentatiously busied himself with the TARDIS controls.
“We’re on Earth,” he repeated finally.
“Wonderful,” Tegan said, throwing up her hands. “One thing I ask for, just one thing,” she continued. Whether she was talking to him or to herself was unclear.
“Look,” the Doctor said in that reasonable tone of his that never failed to drive Tegan even further up the wall, “We’re nearly there. It’s just a matter of miles… and a couple of years.”
“How many miles?” she demanded. “How many years?”
The Doctor sighed; he saw no point in drawing this whole thing out any further. “We’re in Paris, France,” he announced. “Local date is September 3, 2001. Not quite New Year’s Eve in Times Square on the verge of a new millennium, but a city full of promise nonetheless.”
“Some Time Lord,” Tegan said scathingly. “Can’t even find Times Square.”
At that moment, Turlough walked into the console room carrying a book.
“Ah Turlough, I see you’ve found the library,” the Doctor commented. Tegan grumbled something that sounded like an unfavorable comparison of the Doctor’s navigational skills with Turlough’s.
“That I have, Doctor,” Turlough agreed, holding up his book. “You’ve got quite a fascinating collection in there.”
“Why thank you, Turlough. Just be careful of the big green book on the shelf nearest the doorway. I’m afraid it bites.”
Turlough nodded, looking not at all surprised by this revelation; since he’d begun traveling with the Doctor, nothing much surprised him anymore.
The Doctor turned his attention back to Tegan. “So, are you up for a trip to Paris, Tegan? I know it’s not quite what you wanted, but…” His voice was almost, but not quite pleading, and his wide, innocent blue eyes just begged her to say "yes".
With effort, she prevented her lips from melting into a smile; she wasn’t going to let him off the hook that easily.
“I’ll make it up to you with dinner at the Ritz Hotel,” he continued. “Come on, Tegan. What do you say?”
“Well… “ She began thoughtfully, musing that dinner at the Ritz Hotel did sound like a pretty good offer. “We’re here now, so I suppose we might as well make the most of it.”
The Doctor’s smile widened into that schoolboy grin that secretly always melted her heart.
“And how about you, Turlough?” he asked suddenly. “Would you care to sample some of the finest cuisine in the known universe?”
Turlough made a face. “I’ve had enough of Earth to last me for quite some time, Doctor,” he replied. “I think I’ll spend the evening in the library if you don’t mind.”
The Doctor shrugged. “Suit yourself,” he said, his tone suggesting that Turlough simply didn’t understand the fun he would be missing.
“Oh I always do, Doctor,” Turlough said. A huge smirk appeared on his face, and then vanished so quickly that it might never have been there at all. As he exited the console room, he casually tossed a final thought over his shoulder. “And I do hope the two of you have a wonderful time on your date this evening. Might I add that it’s about bloody time?”
When he had gone, there was a moment of silence as Turlough’s words hung in the air.
Date? Tegan thought wildly. Oh my God, are we going on a date?
The Doctor’s thoughts were racing along similar lines. Have I just asked her for a date? And… has she just agreed to go?
“I guess it’ll be just us then,” the Doctor finally said, trying for a normal tone of voice and just barely achieving it.
“Yeah, I guess so,” Tegan agreed, struggling hard to keep her voice neutral as well.
“Right,” he replied, very obviously not looking at her. He placed both hands on the control console and leaned forward against it, his head down. “For what time shall I make the reservation?” He asked this casually, as though they were discussing nothing more important than the football results or some tidbit of celebrity gossip.
“Seven?” Tegan suggested. “That’ll give me some time to get ready — ” She didn’t continue the thought; the unspoken implication of Tegan needing time to prepare for their dinner because she wanted to look attractive for her dateunsettled them both.
“Fine,” the Doctor agreed, his eyes still riveted to something on the TARDIS control panel.
“Good,” she said abruptly, and walked out of the console room. Even in that uncomfortable situation, she was unwilling to let him have the last word!
Tegan’s first stop was one of the TARDIS’s many wardrobe rooms. She had long since stopped wondering from where and whom all of those clothes had come and had begun simply enjoying the seemingly infinite number of clothing choices available to her. Tonight would require something very special, and she knew just the outfit for it.
She entered the wardrobe room, shutting the door behind her and glancing around at the vast array of clothing strewn all over the place. Evidently, none of the Doctor’s various incarnations had ever shown an inclination towards neatness. This wasn’t her first foray into this particular wardrobe room; she had once spent an entire afternoon in here trying on various outfits just for the fun of it.
She quickly located the dress she wanted right where she’d left it, draped over the back of a chair. She momentarily toyed with the idea of investigating one of the other wardrobe rooms just to see if she could find something even better but then dismissed the thought, quite sensibly deciding that she already had enough things to agonize over without also worrying about what she was going to wear. She retrieved the green dress from the back of the chair and shook it out, eyeing it critically.
“I suppose you’ll have to do,” she told it. “You’d better look just as nice tonight as you did last time I tried you on,” she continued. “Now, what shoes…?” She placed the dress neatly back on the chair, and turned to search for shoes and other accessories.
Back in her own rooms, Tegan showered and washed her hair, and then decided that a good soak in a bubble bath might help her relax and put her thoughts in order. With one towel wrapped around her and another turbaned around her head, she stood critically regarding her collection of bubble baths, thinking about which one would be best for the occasion. Her eyes fell upon an egg-shaped bottle with a plastic brown cap reminiscent of tortoiseshell. Smiling, she turned on the taps in the bathtub and reached for the egg-shaped bottle, unscrewing the cap and squeezing out a measure of thick amber liquid into the water. Immediately, bubbles began forming and the bathroom was filled with the dark, sensual scent of Obsession perfume. When the tub was full, Tegan allowed the towel around her body to fall to the floor and gingerly tested the water temperature with one toe. Finding it satisfactory, she eased her way into the tub and sank down into the bubbles.
Closing her eyes, she tried to relax… but her mind had other ideas.
What if I’ve got this whole thing all wrong? He never said it was a date… Turlough said that. What if I get all tarted up with my perfume and my make-up and that sexy green dress, and he shows up in the console room in that tatty cricketing outfit of his with wilted celery hanging off his lapel? Won’t I look a right idiot then?
With more than a little dismay, she realized that she truly had no idea what the Doctor might be thinking. He was a very difficult man to read. The face that he presented to the world in this incarnation was usually cheerful and often smiling, but he could be distant and cold, so very cold… she had always wondered about that until their unscheduled detour to Gallifrey where they had become unwilling participants in Rassilon’s Game.
Gallifrey was a cold planet, she recalled with a shiver, and the Time Lords were not a warm people by any stretch of the imagination. That same Time Lord coldness had lingered about the Doctor for a while after that visit; he’d only snapped out of it when Tegan had snidely addressed him as “My Lord President”.
She sighed.
I’m not sure what scares me more, that I’m wrong about this being a date, or that I’m right.
Tegan slipped the straps of the green evening dress up over her shoulders, than struggled to zip the back.
Why do they always have to put the bloody zipper right up the center of the back? You’d have to be a contortionist with rubber arms to do it up! And how will I get this stupid dress back off at the end of the night? She had a sudden, very wicked thought that it would be nice if she’d have help with that later…
Firmly squashing that thought, she continued her struggle with the zipper, finally managing it somehow, and went to stand in front of the mirror to inspect her reflection.
The dress was made of a silky emerald green material that shimmered where the light hit it. It was cut rather conservatively in the front but daringly low in the back, with a tapered skirt ending a few inches below her knees. She’d found matching green heels and a small green evening bag, along with dangling copper earrings set with what appeared to be emeralds, but could be any kind of gemstone from God only knew what planet.
She pushed the earrings through the tiny holes in her earlobes and nervously smoothed down her skirt. She leaned close to the mirror to give her make-up one last inspection; smoky brown eyeliner lined both eyes, accented with coppery eye shadow and dark mascara. She applied another coat of shimmering sheer lip tint, licked her lips, and stepped back to survey the effect.
Satisfied, she dabbed Obsession perfume behind her ears, on her neck, on her wrists, in the crooks of her elbows, and - after a moment’s hesitation - in the hollow of her throat and the cleft between her breasts. Finally, she pulled a black silk wrap around her shoulders and grabbed her evening bag.
“Brave heart, Tegan,” she told her reflection. She left her rooms and headed for the console room, leaving a cloud of Obsession in the air behind her.
Her first thought upon reaching the console room was that he wouldn’t have arrived yet. Her second though upon reaching the console room was —
“Oh my,” she breathed. The Doctor was standing near the control console, his back to her. He wore a black velvet coat vaguely reminiscent of the sort she knew he had worn in his third incarnation, but longer and not nearly as showy. At the sound of her voice, he turned.
“Hello, Tegan,” he said quietly, giving her a shy, tentative smile.
“Doctor,” she said shortly, not trusting her voice enough to venture a more elaborate greeting.
No, she decided, he had not chosen this evening to revisit the fashion mistakes of a previous incarnation; there was no hint of the dandy or the fop about him. Under the plain black velvet coat, he wore a simple white silk shirt open at the neck and a pair of plain black pants. There was, she noted with an odd sense of relief, no celery pinned to his lapel. She suddenly realized that he was staring at her as though he’d never seen her before.
“Tegan, you look…” his voice trailed off and she was immediately certain that he hadn’t meant to say what he’d been thinking. “You look hungry,” he finished lamely, trying hard but failing to sound as though he’d meant to say that all along.
“Thank you, Doctor,” she said, and suddenly grinned mischievously. “You know, you’re looking pretty hungry yourself tonight!” She saw the blush creep up his face and knew that she had hit the mark.
“Since we’re both very hungry, I think we should go eat, don’t you?” he finally asked a bit stiffly.
“Of course, Doctor,” she replied, still grinning.
He ducked his head slightly, his blue eyes gazing steadily at her from under his wispy blond bangs. Combined with the blush still on his cheeks, the effect was innocent and quite endearing. Shyly, he offered her his arm, his eyes still on her. Moving slowly due to the unfortunate combination of high heels and shaking knees, Tegan made her wobbly way across the console room and took his arm. The Doctor threw the door switch and together they walked out of the TARDIS and into the cool Paris September night.
They were seated promptly at seven at a secluded table with a view of the city spread out before them like jewels on black velvet.
The Doctor surprised Tegan by ordering for them both, in French. She had no idea what he’d ordered for her, and felt a bit put out by his behavior. She had been about to make a snarky comment along the lines of being accustomed to going out with men who allowed her to choose her own entrée when she recalled that the Doctor may look human, but he was in fact an alien and a rather old-fashioned one that that; perhaps this was how things were done on Gallifrey. So she held her tongue and decided that she would enjoy her dinner no matter what it might turn out to be. Whatever else might happen, she would at least be able to say that she’d had dinner at the Ritz. And been on a date with the Doctor, a mischievous part of her mind added. Shut up! she told it.
“Isn’t it lovely, Tegan?” the Doctor asked, gesturing at their view of the sparkling City of Lights.
“Too lovely,” she agreed. “I’ve never been to Paris before. Have you?” She was making inane small talk and she knew it, but at the moment she couldn’t think of anything else to say.
“Oh, not for quite a few years,” he replied absently. “Not since that awful business with Scarlioni.”
“Who’s Scarlioni?” she asked. He was about to reply when the Wine Steward suddenly appeared at their table, carrying a champagne bucket and two fluted glasses. The Doctor looked surprised; evidently he had not ordered champagne.
“Bonsoir monsieur, mademoiselle,” the Wine Steward greeted them. He set the champagne bucket in a silver stand and turned the bottle’s label towards them so they could clearly read the words Dom Perignon. Tegan’s eyes nearly popped out of her head.
“Compliments of Monsieur Turlough,” the Wine Steward explained.
The Doctor sighed, gazing up at the ceiling in supplication and shaking his head. Tegan heard him mutter something about Turlough and meddling under his breath. Oblivious, the Wine Steward opened the bottle of champagne and offered the cork to the Doctor.
“Monsieur? ” Taking the cork, the Doctor gave it a sniff and shrugged.
“Fine,” he said. The Wine Steward gave a little nod and poured out the champagne. He placed the bottle back in the bucket, gave them another little nod, and walked away.
For a moment, they simply stared at their champagne glasses in silence.
“How about a toast?” the Doctor finally asked, lifting his glass. “To a lovely evening…” Tegan raised her glass to his. “…And a very lovely lady,” he finished, catching her eye. Tegan nearly dropped her glass in shock.
Blushing, the Doctor clinked his glass against hers and watched as she took a sip of champagne. “How is it?”
“Marvelous,” she told him.
He grinned and took a sip himself. “It is indeed marvelous,” he agreed softly, looking into her eyes in a way that made her think he wasn’t talking about the champagne.
After dinner, they walked arm in arm along the Seine. The Doctor pointed out the sights and told her about his last visit to Paris, when he and the Time Lady Romana had foiled a bizarre alien plot to steal the Mona Lisa.
“We never did get around to sampling the bouillabaisse,” he lamented.
“After that huge meal we just had, how can you even think about food?” Tegan groaned.
The Doctor laughed. “Why do you think I suggested this walk along the river?” he asked lightly.
Tegan replied without thinking, her tongue loosened by the champagne and the bottle of red wine at dinner.
“I thought you were being romantic,” she admitted, giving him a sidelong glance. She saw his eyebrows go up and suddenly wondered if she’d gravely misjudged the situation. To spare them both further embarrassment, she decided to make it into a joke. “Little did I know your true motive was getting in some exercise so you can keep your youthful figure!” she said teasingly.
“One must do one’s best to keep fit,” he agreed in a neutral tone.
“I don’t think you have to worry, Doctor. With all that cricketing you do, you’ll never be fat!”
“Yes, I’m rather glad that you and Nyssa didn’t delete the cricket pitch!”
She laughed. “Don’t thank me for that,” she told him. “I had no idea what we were doing! Thank God we didn’t delete the console room while we were at it!”
“You couldn’t have,” he assured her. “The TARDIS does have some safeguards, you know.”
“Yes, but do any of them actually work?”
He glanced over at her and saw her grin; she was teasing him again. “You know, I can’t seem to get any respect,” he lamented with a mock sigh.
“You and Rodney,” she agreed, making him laugh.
He suddenly stopped walking and turned to face her.
“Tegan, would you care to go back to the TARDIS for a glass of brandy?” he blurted out, speaking with such haste that his words tumbled over themselves.
She blinked in surprise at the abrupt change of topic, and then in a sudden flash of intuition realized that he’d spent the entire duration of their riverside walk working up the courage to issue this invitation.
“A glass of brandy,” she said, smiling and taking his arm again, “sounds like just what the Doctor ordered!”
“Steady on, Doctor,” the Doctor mumbled to himself as he searched his pockets for the TARDIS key, and something in his voice reminded Tegan of another Doctor, the white-haired fashion victim she’d met in Rassilon’s Tomb. At last he managed to fit the key into the lock and open the doors. “After you,” he said gallantly, waving her ahead.
“Where are we going?” she asked as he followed her inside and shut the doors.
He immediately headed for the console room door. “This way,” he replied, holding the door for her.
“All right.” She allowed him to lead the way through the mazelike TARDIS corridors until finally they reached a familiar-looking door. The Doctor pushed the door open and waved her inside.
“Goodness,” Tegan exclaimed.
The Cloisters had radically changed since her last visit. Someone had strung small white lights on the trees, and a little wrought iron loveseat with a soft cushion had been placed between two columns. Near the loveseat was a small table holding a cut crystal decanter filled with amber liquid, two brandy snifters, and a CD player. The Doctor gave her a shy smile.
“Well, I had to find something to do to occupy my time while you were preparing for our… for this evening,” he amended hastily, motioning her towards the loveseat and going to the table to pour the brandy.
”This is all…” Tegan began.
“Yes?” he asked, removing his velvet jacket and draping it neatly over the back of the loveseat. He pushed Play on the CD player, filling the Cloisters with soft music. He moved to sit beside her on the loveseat, offering her a brandy.
She took the glass and had a small sip, glancing around.
“This is quite a surprise,” she finally said, indicating the changes he’d made to the Cloisters.
“Mmm,” he replied noncommittally, taking a sip of brandy. They sat in silence for a long while, the music swirling around them.
Finally, Tegan stood. She finished her brandy in one gulp and set her glass down on the table next to the crystal decanter. Squaring her shoulders like someone approaching a formidable task, she held out her hand to the Doctor.
“Doctor, would you care to dance with me?”
For a moment she was certain he was going to refuse, but then he slowly came to his feet, draining his own glass and setting it on the table next to hers.
“I’d like nothing better,” he replied softly, taking her hand. Smiling, she wound an arm around his neck and leaned her head against his shoulder as Kate Bush sang,
I’m dying for you just to touch me
And feel all the energy rushing right up me
L’amour looks something like you.
The thought of you sends me shivery
I’m dressed in lace, sailing down a black reverie.
“Tegan,” the Doctor murmured in her ear.
Her head was swimming; she suddenly felt dizzy. Must be the brandy, she thought reasonably.
“Tegan,” he repeated, pulling away from her. They stood apart for a moment, regarding one another steadily. Slowly, the Doctor offered her his hand. Just as slowly, she reached out and took it.
The Doctor led her deeper into the TARDIS, down corridors she’d never seen before. Finally, they reached their destination. He gave her an uncertain look before pushing the door open. Wondering what she would find on the other side, Tegan entered.
The first thing she noticed was the abrupt change in temperature. While the rest of the TARDIS was heated to a comfortable temperature, this new area was quite chilly, at least for a human. She drew her black wrap more closely around her shoulders, shivering.
“I’m sorry,” the Doctor apologized, moving to a control panel set in the wall and making adjustments. “I hadn’t even thought about it.”
Tegan glanced around at her surroundings.
Like most of the TARDIS, the walls were white with inset backlit roundels, but in this room they were decorated with photographs of people that she didn’t recognize posing with men she that did. She suddenly realized she was seeing pictures of the Doctor in his various incarnations with his former companions.
Sitting on a small table next to a big white sofa was a rather grainy hologram of two young men. They both wore long robes and elaborate tall, winged headdresses similar to the one she recalled Chancellor Flavia wearing in Rassilon’s Tomb when she’d come to summon the Doctor to his duties as Lord President of Gallifrey. So, she thought, they must be Time Lords.
“The one on the left is me,” the Doctor said quietly, making her jump. She hadn’t heard him come up behind her.
She bent to have a closer look at the hologram, not asking any of the questions that burned inside her. The Doctor didn’t often talk about his past or say much about it when he did; she decided to allow him to take the lead in whatever discussion might follow.
“Why, you look almost the same now,” she told him, and it was true. The young man on the left had the same sandy blond hair, the same innocent big blue eyes.
“Almost,” he agreed wryly.
As she regarded the hologram more carefully, she saw subtle differences in height, posture, and bone structure, but the real difference between the young man in the hologram and the seemingly young man standing behind her was strikingly obvious; the innocence in the hologram’s eyes was the genuine article, rather than the byproduct of regeneration. The man standing behind her had seen and experienced a great deal, more than Tegan could even imagine, and it often showed in his eyes. The young man in the hologram probably hadn’t ever left Gallifrey.
“What were you graduating from?” Tegan asked, moving to sit on the sofa next to the table with the hologram.
The Doctor looked surprised. “How did you know?” he asked, sitting beside her.
“I may be a primitive Earthling, but I know a graduation picture when I see one,” she replied, tilting her head to smile up at him.
“The Prydonian Academy,” he said, his eyes taking on a distant, faraway look. “That was the day we became Time Lords.”
“We?” she asked, suddenly wondering who the other man in the hologram was. She inspected it more carefully and — ”Oh, Doctor,” she gasped. “That isn’t —“
“The Master,” he confirmed shortly. At her astonished expression, he elaborated. “I keep it as a reminder.” The look in his eyes did not invite questions regarding what it was supposed to be a reminder of, so she simply nodded.
They sat in silence for a moment, the air gradually warming enough for Tegan to loosen her silk wrap, allowing it to slip down from her shoulders to hang down across her back.
“Are you feeling warmer?” the Doctor asked solicitously, unconsciously reaching up to unbutton the second and third buttons of his shirt.
“Yes, much,” she said, watching curiously as he unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled up his shirtsleeves. “But now you’re overheating!”
He smiled patiently. “What’s normal human body temperature, Tegan?” he asked.
“About thirty-six degrees,” she replied automatically.
“Right. And how do you feel when the outside temperature begins creeping up into the thirties and forties?”
“Too hot,” she said, making a face. With a sudden burst of understanding, she reached out to capture one of his hands between hers. The Gallifreyan’s skin felt icy to the human woman’s touch. “So that’s why you keep it so cold in here,” she murmured, almost to herself.
The Doctor smiled, looking oddly delighted that she’d understood so quickly.
“Exactly,” he agreed. “Normal body temperature for a Gallifreyan is around fifteen degrees.”
You are literally a cold bunch, she thought but did not say. “Put it back down,” she said instead, indicating the wall panel with one hand. “Really, I don’t mind.”
“It’s all right, Tegan,” he assured her, smiling. “I’ll manage.”
“You’re always wearing that long coat,” she said, frowning in thought. “And that sweater! Doctor, you must be burning up in that outfit! Not to mention that coat and scarf you used to wear — ”
“One of the more useful things one learns at school on Gallifrey is how to regulate one’s metabolism, including body temperature relative to ambient conditions,” the Doctor told her. “However, it can get to be quite tiring to maintain, which is why I tend to keep my own rooms programmed at a comfortable temperature.”
His own rooms, Tegan thought with a sudden jolt. On some level, she had known all along that he had brought her to his own private quarters on the TARDIS, but that realization hadn’t quite made it into her conscious thoughts yet. She was suddenly very aware of the Doctor’s cool hand growing warm from the heat of her own, of his blue eyes watching her expectantly, waiting for… For what? she wondered. Surely he can’t be waiting to see if I’ll —
Before she could complete the thought, he gently placed his free hand on her cheek, watching her intently all the while. Slowly, she leaned toward him, raising her free hand to brush against his cheek and slide around to the back of his neck, pulling him closer until his cool lips finally met hers.
After a moment, their kiss grew more intense and despite the chilly air of the room, she suddenly felt too hot. Without breaking their kiss, she shifted her arms so that her black silk wrap fell away from her body, pooling in a heap on the sofa behind her. Both of his arms went around her, pulling her against him, one hand tangling in her hair.
Tegan allowed herself to fall backwards onto the sofa, pulling him down with her so that she was flat on her back, with him half on top of her. She ran her hands through his fine blond hair, delighting in its silky texture. “Doctor,” she murmured against his mouth, feeling strange addressing him by such a formal title at an intimate moment like this, but not knowing what else to call him.
He broke their kiss and shifted so that he was lying on his side next to her, propped up on one elbow. He gazed down at her, looking very concerned.
“Are…” he began in a shaky voice. His cheeks were flushed, his blue eyes sparkled, and his hair was tangled; Tegan thought he looked quite delicious. “Are you sure…?”
She smiled up at him, and then began methodically unbuttoning his shirt, her lips following in the wake of her fingers to kiss the cool skin that was revealed under the parting fabric. She heard him inhale sharply. “Tegan,” he said shakily. She abandoned her unbuttoning project to smile up at him again.
“Yes?” she asked softly, gazing steadily into his blue eyes. She reached up to stroke his cheek. He covered her hand with his own, pressing it against his face and turning his head to kiss her palm.
“Would you…” She heard him swallow hard. “Would you like…?” Suddenly overcome with shyness, his face went an alarming shade of red and he dropped his gaze.
I thought he always knew what to do, what to say, Tegan thought wryly, marveling at how vulnerable he looked. He can’t be a sexual innocent, she reminded herself. That granddaughter Susan had to come from somewhere, didn’t she? Her mind immediately supplied her with an image of the young Doctor from the graduation hologram getting it on with some faceless Time Lady, both of them stark naked but for their elaborate Time Lord headdresses. She fought a heroic battle not to giggle and ruin the current mood.
Slowly, she sat up, turning slightly to look down at him.
“Yes, Doctor,” she said quietly. “I would very much like.”
Wordlessly, he rose from the sofa and offered her his hand. When she took it, he pulled her to her feet and led her up a short hallway to his bedroom. Like the living area, it was all white. Even the bedspread on the bed was white; combined with the chilly air, the effect was like being inside an igloo.
The Doctor sat down on the edge of the huge bed and looked down at the floor. Tegan sat next to him, also looking at the floor. They sat like this for a while, chastely not touching. Finally, when he couldn’t stand it any longer, he glanced over at her to see her brown eyes watching him intently. In one fluid motion, she suddenly pushed him down onto the bed and pinned him under her body, grinning mischievously.
“I’ve finally got you right where I want you, Doctor,” she said in a low voice, and bent her head to kiss him.
“I seem to be quite at your mercy,” he agreed readily between kisses, one hand coming up to stroke her hair. “Now that you’ve got me in your clutches, what are you going to do with me?”
She grinned down at him.
“Don’t you worry, Doctor, I’ll think of something!”
As it turned out, Tegan thought of quite a few somethings; the Doctor marveled at her creativity… and her stamina. I’m not as young as I used to be, he thought ruefully when they finally lay together quietly in the darkness, him on his back, her on her side snuggled up against him with her head resting on his bare chest.
“Mmm,” Tegan murmured dreamily, “I can hear your hearts.”
“Well I should hope so,” came the reply, making her laugh sleepily. “There would be something terribly wrong if you couldn’t!”
She felt him shift beneath her as he kicked at the blankets that covered them. “What’s wrong?” she asked.
“You’re very hot,” he told her. “And you’re making me very hot.”
“Ooo, baby, don’t you know it!” she agreed suggestively. He laughed. “Doctor,” she began.
He said something then that began with "Who" followed by a long string of incomprehensible syllables.
“What was that?” she asked, puzzled.
“Ah, and you thought Romana’s full name was a mouthful,” he said teasingly.
It took her a moment.
“Wait a minute,” she said suddenly, propping herself up on one elbow to look down at him in the darkness. “That’s your name?”
“Mmm hmm,” he affirmed. He could just make out her incredulous expression in the darkness. He repeated his full name for her, laughing at the look on her face as she did her best to take it in.
“Whodra… “ she tried. “Whodrev… Who — oh, whatever the hell it was!” she blurted out in exasperation. He laughed again. “Don’t any of you people have names like Joe or Jim?”
“Oh, Tegan,” he said, chuckling, “you’re too much!”
“So are you, Whod… oh forget it!” she said. “You can write it down for me later.” In the darkness, he saw her grin wickedly. “But don’t expect me to yell it out in the heat of passion, or we’ll be there all day!” He laughed again as she gave him a kiss and settled herself back onto the bed, snuggling up against him.
She pulled the covers up over them both; after a moment, there was some sleepy discussion regarding the blankets and what it was like to sleep next to someone whose body temperature made one feel like he was sleeping next to a blast furnace. This was countered by quite a long discourse on the frigid room temperature and what it was like to sleep next to someone whose body temperature made one feel like she was sleeping next to an iceberg. A resolution was reached involving Tegan taking all of the covers, and a promise to search the TARDIS storerooms for an electric blanket was made.
“I’ve never done this before, you know,” his voice suddenly said into the darkness. “Carried on an affair with one of my companions, I mean.”
“First time for everything,” came the sleepy reply.
The Doctor was silent for so long that Tegan thought he had fallen asleep.
“Tegan, I can’t remember the last time I said this to someone,” he finally said, and then spoke a phrase in a lilting musical language that she had never heard before.
“And what does that mean?” she asked, not daring to hope…
“I love you, Tegan,” he said softly, pulling her against him and gently stroking her cheek. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” she replied. “I love you, Whodra… Whodreva… oh sod it, I love you, Doctor!”
FINIS.
“Really?” she asked, grinning with excitement. “We’re really there?”
“We’re on Earth,” the Doctor began. Tegan’s expression changed, the grin fading from her lips. “Really, it’s very close,” he reassured her.
Tegan groaned. “Let me guess,” she said a bit sarcastically. “We’re not in Times Square and it’s not December 31, 1999. Am I right, Doctor?”
The Doctor rather ostentatiously busied himself with the TARDIS controls.
“We’re on Earth,” he repeated finally.
“Wonderful,” Tegan said, throwing up her hands. “One thing I ask for, just one thing,” she continued. Whether she was talking to him or to herself was unclear.
“Look,” the Doctor said in that reasonable tone of his that never failed to drive Tegan even further up the wall, “We’re nearly there. It’s just a matter of miles… and a couple of years.”
“How many miles?” she demanded. “How many years?”
The Doctor sighed; he saw no point in drawing this whole thing out any further. “We’re in Paris, France,” he announced. “Local date is September 3, 2001. Not quite New Year’s Eve in Times Square on the verge of a new millennium, but a city full of promise nonetheless.”
“Some Time Lord,” Tegan said scathingly. “Can’t even find Times Square.”
At that moment, Turlough walked into the console room carrying a book.
“Ah Turlough, I see you’ve found the library,” the Doctor commented. Tegan grumbled something that sounded like an unfavorable comparison of the Doctor’s navigational skills with Turlough’s.
“That I have, Doctor,” Turlough agreed, holding up his book. “You’ve got quite a fascinating collection in there.”
“Why thank you, Turlough. Just be careful of the big green book on the shelf nearest the doorway. I’m afraid it bites.”
Turlough nodded, looking not at all surprised by this revelation; since he’d begun traveling with the Doctor, nothing much surprised him anymore.
The Doctor turned his attention back to Tegan. “So, are you up for a trip to Paris, Tegan? I know it’s not quite what you wanted, but…” His voice was almost, but not quite pleading, and his wide, innocent blue eyes just begged her to say "yes".
With effort, she prevented her lips from melting into a smile; she wasn’t going to let him off the hook that easily.
“I’ll make it up to you with dinner at the Ritz Hotel,” he continued. “Come on, Tegan. What do you say?”
“Well… “ She began thoughtfully, musing that dinner at the Ritz Hotel did sound like a pretty good offer. “We’re here now, so I suppose we might as well make the most of it.”
The Doctor’s smile widened into that schoolboy grin that secretly always melted her heart.
“And how about you, Turlough?” he asked suddenly. “Would you care to sample some of the finest cuisine in the known universe?”
Turlough made a face. “I’ve had enough of Earth to last me for quite some time, Doctor,” he replied. “I think I’ll spend the evening in the library if you don’t mind.”
The Doctor shrugged. “Suit yourself,” he said, his tone suggesting that Turlough simply didn’t understand the fun he would be missing.
“Oh I always do, Doctor,” Turlough said. A huge smirk appeared on his face, and then vanished so quickly that it might never have been there at all. As he exited the console room, he casually tossed a final thought over his shoulder. “And I do hope the two of you have a wonderful time on your date this evening. Might I add that it’s about bloody time?”
When he had gone, there was a moment of silence as Turlough’s words hung in the air.
Date? Tegan thought wildly. Oh my God, are we going on a date?
The Doctor’s thoughts were racing along similar lines. Have I just asked her for a date? And… has she just agreed to go?
“I guess it’ll be just us then,” the Doctor finally said, trying for a normal tone of voice and just barely achieving it.
“Yeah, I guess so,” Tegan agreed, struggling hard to keep her voice neutral as well.
“Right,” he replied, very obviously not looking at her. He placed both hands on the control console and leaned forward against it, his head down. “For what time shall I make the reservation?” He asked this casually, as though they were discussing nothing more important than the football results or some tidbit of celebrity gossip.
“Seven?” Tegan suggested. “That’ll give me some time to get ready — ” She didn’t continue the thought; the unspoken implication of Tegan needing time to prepare for their dinner because she wanted to look attractive for her dateunsettled them both.
“Fine,” the Doctor agreed, his eyes still riveted to something on the TARDIS control panel.
“Good,” she said abruptly, and walked out of the console room. Even in that uncomfortable situation, she was unwilling to let him have the last word!
Tegan’s first stop was one of the TARDIS’s many wardrobe rooms. She had long since stopped wondering from where and whom all of those clothes had come and had begun simply enjoying the seemingly infinite number of clothing choices available to her. Tonight would require something very special, and she knew just the outfit for it.
She entered the wardrobe room, shutting the door behind her and glancing around at the vast array of clothing strewn all over the place. Evidently, none of the Doctor’s various incarnations had ever shown an inclination towards neatness. This wasn’t her first foray into this particular wardrobe room; she had once spent an entire afternoon in here trying on various outfits just for the fun of it.
She quickly located the dress she wanted right where she’d left it, draped over the back of a chair. She momentarily toyed with the idea of investigating one of the other wardrobe rooms just to see if she could find something even better but then dismissed the thought, quite sensibly deciding that she already had enough things to agonize over without also worrying about what she was going to wear. She retrieved the green dress from the back of the chair and shook it out, eyeing it critically.
“I suppose you’ll have to do,” she told it. “You’d better look just as nice tonight as you did last time I tried you on,” she continued. “Now, what shoes…?” She placed the dress neatly back on the chair, and turned to search for shoes and other accessories.
Back in her own rooms, Tegan showered and washed her hair, and then decided that a good soak in a bubble bath might help her relax and put her thoughts in order. With one towel wrapped around her and another turbaned around her head, she stood critically regarding her collection of bubble baths, thinking about which one would be best for the occasion. Her eyes fell upon an egg-shaped bottle with a plastic brown cap reminiscent of tortoiseshell. Smiling, she turned on the taps in the bathtub and reached for the egg-shaped bottle, unscrewing the cap and squeezing out a measure of thick amber liquid into the water. Immediately, bubbles began forming and the bathroom was filled with the dark, sensual scent of Obsession perfume. When the tub was full, Tegan allowed the towel around her body to fall to the floor and gingerly tested the water temperature with one toe. Finding it satisfactory, she eased her way into the tub and sank down into the bubbles.
Closing her eyes, she tried to relax… but her mind had other ideas.
What if I’ve got this whole thing all wrong? He never said it was a date… Turlough said that. What if I get all tarted up with my perfume and my make-up and that sexy green dress, and he shows up in the console room in that tatty cricketing outfit of his with wilted celery hanging off his lapel? Won’t I look a right idiot then?
With more than a little dismay, she realized that she truly had no idea what the Doctor might be thinking. He was a very difficult man to read. The face that he presented to the world in this incarnation was usually cheerful and often smiling, but he could be distant and cold, so very cold… she had always wondered about that until their unscheduled detour to Gallifrey where they had become unwilling participants in Rassilon’s Game.
Gallifrey was a cold planet, she recalled with a shiver, and the Time Lords were not a warm people by any stretch of the imagination. That same Time Lord coldness had lingered about the Doctor for a while after that visit; he’d only snapped out of it when Tegan had snidely addressed him as “My Lord President”.
She sighed.
I’m not sure what scares me more, that I’m wrong about this being a date, or that I’m right.
Tegan slipped the straps of the green evening dress up over her shoulders, than struggled to zip the back.
Why do they always have to put the bloody zipper right up the center of the back? You’d have to be a contortionist with rubber arms to do it up! And how will I get this stupid dress back off at the end of the night? She had a sudden, very wicked thought that it would be nice if she’d have help with that later…
Firmly squashing that thought, she continued her struggle with the zipper, finally managing it somehow, and went to stand in front of the mirror to inspect her reflection.
The dress was made of a silky emerald green material that shimmered where the light hit it. It was cut rather conservatively in the front but daringly low in the back, with a tapered skirt ending a few inches below her knees. She’d found matching green heels and a small green evening bag, along with dangling copper earrings set with what appeared to be emeralds, but could be any kind of gemstone from God only knew what planet.
She pushed the earrings through the tiny holes in her earlobes and nervously smoothed down her skirt. She leaned close to the mirror to give her make-up one last inspection; smoky brown eyeliner lined both eyes, accented with coppery eye shadow and dark mascara. She applied another coat of shimmering sheer lip tint, licked her lips, and stepped back to survey the effect.
Satisfied, she dabbed Obsession perfume behind her ears, on her neck, on her wrists, in the crooks of her elbows, and - after a moment’s hesitation - in the hollow of her throat and the cleft between her breasts. Finally, she pulled a black silk wrap around her shoulders and grabbed her evening bag.
“Brave heart, Tegan,” she told her reflection. She left her rooms and headed for the console room, leaving a cloud of Obsession in the air behind her.
Her first thought upon reaching the console room was that he wouldn’t have arrived yet. Her second though upon reaching the console room was —
“Oh my,” she breathed. The Doctor was standing near the control console, his back to her. He wore a black velvet coat vaguely reminiscent of the sort she knew he had worn in his third incarnation, but longer and not nearly as showy. At the sound of her voice, he turned.
“Hello, Tegan,” he said quietly, giving her a shy, tentative smile.
“Doctor,” she said shortly, not trusting her voice enough to venture a more elaborate greeting.
No, she decided, he had not chosen this evening to revisit the fashion mistakes of a previous incarnation; there was no hint of the dandy or the fop about him. Under the plain black velvet coat, he wore a simple white silk shirt open at the neck and a pair of plain black pants. There was, she noted with an odd sense of relief, no celery pinned to his lapel. She suddenly realized that he was staring at her as though he’d never seen her before.
“Tegan, you look…” his voice trailed off and she was immediately certain that he hadn’t meant to say what he’d been thinking. “You look hungry,” he finished lamely, trying hard but failing to sound as though he’d meant to say that all along.
“Thank you, Doctor,” she said, and suddenly grinned mischievously. “You know, you’re looking pretty hungry yourself tonight!” She saw the blush creep up his face and knew that she had hit the mark.
“Since we’re both very hungry, I think we should go eat, don’t you?” he finally asked a bit stiffly.
“Of course, Doctor,” she replied, still grinning.
He ducked his head slightly, his blue eyes gazing steadily at her from under his wispy blond bangs. Combined with the blush still on his cheeks, the effect was innocent and quite endearing. Shyly, he offered her his arm, his eyes still on her. Moving slowly due to the unfortunate combination of high heels and shaking knees, Tegan made her wobbly way across the console room and took his arm. The Doctor threw the door switch and together they walked out of the TARDIS and into the cool Paris September night.
They were seated promptly at seven at a secluded table with a view of the city spread out before them like jewels on black velvet.
The Doctor surprised Tegan by ordering for them both, in French. She had no idea what he’d ordered for her, and felt a bit put out by his behavior. She had been about to make a snarky comment along the lines of being accustomed to going out with men who allowed her to choose her own entrée when she recalled that the Doctor may look human, but he was in fact an alien and a rather old-fashioned one that that; perhaps this was how things were done on Gallifrey. So she held her tongue and decided that she would enjoy her dinner no matter what it might turn out to be. Whatever else might happen, she would at least be able to say that she’d had dinner at the Ritz. And been on a date with the Doctor, a mischievous part of her mind added. Shut up! she told it.
“Isn’t it lovely, Tegan?” the Doctor asked, gesturing at their view of the sparkling City of Lights.
“Too lovely,” she agreed. “I’ve never been to Paris before. Have you?” She was making inane small talk and she knew it, but at the moment she couldn’t think of anything else to say.
“Oh, not for quite a few years,” he replied absently. “Not since that awful business with Scarlioni.”
“Who’s Scarlioni?” she asked. He was about to reply when the Wine Steward suddenly appeared at their table, carrying a champagne bucket and two fluted glasses. The Doctor looked surprised; evidently he had not ordered champagne.
“Bonsoir monsieur, mademoiselle,” the Wine Steward greeted them. He set the champagne bucket in a silver stand and turned the bottle’s label towards them so they could clearly read the words Dom Perignon. Tegan’s eyes nearly popped out of her head.
“Compliments of Monsieur Turlough,” the Wine Steward explained.
The Doctor sighed, gazing up at the ceiling in supplication and shaking his head. Tegan heard him mutter something about Turlough and meddling under his breath. Oblivious, the Wine Steward opened the bottle of champagne and offered the cork to the Doctor.
“Monsieur? ” Taking the cork, the Doctor gave it a sniff and shrugged.
“Fine,” he said. The Wine Steward gave a little nod and poured out the champagne. He placed the bottle back in the bucket, gave them another little nod, and walked away.
For a moment, they simply stared at their champagne glasses in silence.
“How about a toast?” the Doctor finally asked, lifting his glass. “To a lovely evening…” Tegan raised her glass to his. “…And a very lovely lady,” he finished, catching her eye. Tegan nearly dropped her glass in shock.
Blushing, the Doctor clinked his glass against hers and watched as she took a sip of champagne. “How is it?”
“Marvelous,” she told him.
He grinned and took a sip himself. “It is indeed marvelous,” he agreed softly, looking into her eyes in a way that made her think he wasn’t talking about the champagne.
After dinner, they walked arm in arm along the Seine. The Doctor pointed out the sights and told her about his last visit to Paris, when he and the Time Lady Romana had foiled a bizarre alien plot to steal the Mona Lisa.
“We never did get around to sampling the bouillabaisse,” he lamented.
“After that huge meal we just had, how can you even think about food?” Tegan groaned.
The Doctor laughed. “Why do you think I suggested this walk along the river?” he asked lightly.
Tegan replied without thinking, her tongue loosened by the champagne and the bottle of red wine at dinner.
“I thought you were being romantic,” she admitted, giving him a sidelong glance. She saw his eyebrows go up and suddenly wondered if she’d gravely misjudged the situation. To spare them both further embarrassment, she decided to make it into a joke. “Little did I know your true motive was getting in some exercise so you can keep your youthful figure!” she said teasingly.
“One must do one’s best to keep fit,” he agreed in a neutral tone.
“I don’t think you have to worry, Doctor. With all that cricketing you do, you’ll never be fat!”
“Yes, I’m rather glad that you and Nyssa didn’t delete the cricket pitch!”
She laughed. “Don’t thank me for that,” she told him. “I had no idea what we were doing! Thank God we didn’t delete the console room while we were at it!”
“You couldn’t have,” he assured her. “The TARDIS does have some safeguards, you know.”
“Yes, but do any of them actually work?”
He glanced over at her and saw her grin; she was teasing him again. “You know, I can’t seem to get any respect,” he lamented with a mock sigh.
“You and Rodney,” she agreed, making him laugh.
He suddenly stopped walking and turned to face her.
“Tegan, would you care to go back to the TARDIS for a glass of brandy?” he blurted out, speaking with such haste that his words tumbled over themselves.
She blinked in surprise at the abrupt change of topic, and then in a sudden flash of intuition realized that he’d spent the entire duration of their riverside walk working up the courage to issue this invitation.
“A glass of brandy,” she said, smiling and taking his arm again, “sounds like just what the Doctor ordered!”
“Steady on, Doctor,” the Doctor mumbled to himself as he searched his pockets for the TARDIS key, and something in his voice reminded Tegan of another Doctor, the white-haired fashion victim she’d met in Rassilon’s Tomb. At last he managed to fit the key into the lock and open the doors. “After you,” he said gallantly, waving her ahead.
“Where are we going?” she asked as he followed her inside and shut the doors.
He immediately headed for the console room door. “This way,” he replied, holding the door for her.
“All right.” She allowed him to lead the way through the mazelike TARDIS corridors until finally they reached a familiar-looking door. The Doctor pushed the door open and waved her inside.
“Goodness,” Tegan exclaimed.
The Cloisters had radically changed since her last visit. Someone had strung small white lights on the trees, and a little wrought iron loveseat with a soft cushion had been placed between two columns. Near the loveseat was a small table holding a cut crystal decanter filled with amber liquid, two brandy snifters, and a CD player. The Doctor gave her a shy smile.
“Well, I had to find something to do to occupy my time while you were preparing for our… for this evening,” he amended hastily, motioning her towards the loveseat and going to the table to pour the brandy.
”This is all…” Tegan began.
“Yes?” he asked, removing his velvet jacket and draping it neatly over the back of the loveseat. He pushed Play on the CD player, filling the Cloisters with soft music. He moved to sit beside her on the loveseat, offering her a brandy.
She took the glass and had a small sip, glancing around.
“This is quite a surprise,” she finally said, indicating the changes he’d made to the Cloisters.
“Mmm,” he replied noncommittally, taking a sip of brandy. They sat in silence for a long while, the music swirling around them.
Finally, Tegan stood. She finished her brandy in one gulp and set her glass down on the table next to the crystal decanter. Squaring her shoulders like someone approaching a formidable task, she held out her hand to the Doctor.
“Doctor, would you care to dance with me?”
For a moment she was certain he was going to refuse, but then he slowly came to his feet, draining his own glass and setting it on the table next to hers.
“I’d like nothing better,” he replied softly, taking her hand. Smiling, she wound an arm around his neck and leaned her head against his shoulder as Kate Bush sang,
I’m dying for you just to touch me
And feel all the energy rushing right up me
L’amour looks something like you.
The thought of you sends me shivery
I’m dressed in lace, sailing down a black reverie.
“Tegan,” the Doctor murmured in her ear.
Her head was swimming; she suddenly felt dizzy. Must be the brandy, she thought reasonably.
“Tegan,” he repeated, pulling away from her. They stood apart for a moment, regarding one another steadily. Slowly, the Doctor offered her his hand. Just as slowly, she reached out and took it.
The Doctor led her deeper into the TARDIS, down corridors she’d never seen before. Finally, they reached their destination. He gave her an uncertain look before pushing the door open. Wondering what she would find on the other side, Tegan entered.
The first thing she noticed was the abrupt change in temperature. While the rest of the TARDIS was heated to a comfortable temperature, this new area was quite chilly, at least for a human. She drew her black wrap more closely around her shoulders, shivering.
“I’m sorry,” the Doctor apologized, moving to a control panel set in the wall and making adjustments. “I hadn’t even thought about it.”
Tegan glanced around at her surroundings.
Like most of the TARDIS, the walls were white with inset backlit roundels, but in this room they were decorated with photographs of people that she didn’t recognize posing with men she that did. She suddenly realized she was seeing pictures of the Doctor in his various incarnations with his former companions.
Sitting on a small table next to a big white sofa was a rather grainy hologram of two young men. They both wore long robes and elaborate tall, winged headdresses similar to the one she recalled Chancellor Flavia wearing in Rassilon’s Tomb when she’d come to summon the Doctor to his duties as Lord President of Gallifrey. So, she thought, they must be Time Lords.
“The one on the left is me,” the Doctor said quietly, making her jump. She hadn’t heard him come up behind her.
She bent to have a closer look at the hologram, not asking any of the questions that burned inside her. The Doctor didn’t often talk about his past or say much about it when he did; she decided to allow him to take the lead in whatever discussion might follow.
“Why, you look almost the same now,” she told him, and it was true. The young man on the left had the same sandy blond hair, the same innocent big blue eyes.
“Almost,” he agreed wryly.
As she regarded the hologram more carefully, she saw subtle differences in height, posture, and bone structure, but the real difference between the young man in the hologram and the seemingly young man standing behind her was strikingly obvious; the innocence in the hologram’s eyes was the genuine article, rather than the byproduct of regeneration. The man standing behind her had seen and experienced a great deal, more than Tegan could even imagine, and it often showed in his eyes. The young man in the hologram probably hadn’t ever left Gallifrey.
“What were you graduating from?” Tegan asked, moving to sit on the sofa next to the table with the hologram.
The Doctor looked surprised. “How did you know?” he asked, sitting beside her.
“I may be a primitive Earthling, but I know a graduation picture when I see one,” she replied, tilting her head to smile up at him.
“The Prydonian Academy,” he said, his eyes taking on a distant, faraway look. “That was the day we became Time Lords.”
“We?” she asked, suddenly wondering who the other man in the hologram was. She inspected it more carefully and — ”Oh, Doctor,” she gasped. “That isn’t —“
“The Master,” he confirmed shortly. At her astonished expression, he elaborated. “I keep it as a reminder.” The look in his eyes did not invite questions regarding what it was supposed to be a reminder of, so she simply nodded.
They sat in silence for a moment, the air gradually warming enough for Tegan to loosen her silk wrap, allowing it to slip down from her shoulders to hang down across her back.
“Are you feeling warmer?” the Doctor asked solicitously, unconsciously reaching up to unbutton the second and third buttons of his shirt.
“Yes, much,” she said, watching curiously as he unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled up his shirtsleeves. “But now you’re overheating!”
He smiled patiently. “What’s normal human body temperature, Tegan?” he asked.
“About thirty-six degrees,” she replied automatically.
“Right. And how do you feel when the outside temperature begins creeping up into the thirties and forties?”
“Too hot,” she said, making a face. With a sudden burst of understanding, she reached out to capture one of his hands between hers. The Gallifreyan’s skin felt icy to the human woman’s touch. “So that’s why you keep it so cold in here,” she murmured, almost to herself.
The Doctor smiled, looking oddly delighted that she’d understood so quickly.
“Exactly,” he agreed. “Normal body temperature for a Gallifreyan is around fifteen degrees.”
You are literally a cold bunch, she thought but did not say. “Put it back down,” she said instead, indicating the wall panel with one hand. “Really, I don’t mind.”
“It’s all right, Tegan,” he assured her, smiling. “I’ll manage.”
“You’re always wearing that long coat,” she said, frowning in thought. “And that sweater! Doctor, you must be burning up in that outfit! Not to mention that coat and scarf you used to wear — ”
“One of the more useful things one learns at school on Gallifrey is how to regulate one’s metabolism, including body temperature relative to ambient conditions,” the Doctor told her. “However, it can get to be quite tiring to maintain, which is why I tend to keep my own rooms programmed at a comfortable temperature.”
His own rooms, Tegan thought with a sudden jolt. On some level, she had known all along that he had brought her to his own private quarters on the TARDIS, but that realization hadn’t quite made it into her conscious thoughts yet. She was suddenly very aware of the Doctor’s cool hand growing warm from the heat of her own, of his blue eyes watching her expectantly, waiting for… For what? she wondered. Surely he can’t be waiting to see if I’ll —
Before she could complete the thought, he gently placed his free hand on her cheek, watching her intently all the while. Slowly, she leaned toward him, raising her free hand to brush against his cheek and slide around to the back of his neck, pulling him closer until his cool lips finally met hers.
After a moment, their kiss grew more intense and despite the chilly air of the room, she suddenly felt too hot. Without breaking their kiss, she shifted her arms so that her black silk wrap fell away from her body, pooling in a heap on the sofa behind her. Both of his arms went around her, pulling her against him, one hand tangling in her hair.
Tegan allowed herself to fall backwards onto the sofa, pulling him down with her so that she was flat on her back, with him half on top of her. She ran her hands through his fine blond hair, delighting in its silky texture. “Doctor,” she murmured against his mouth, feeling strange addressing him by such a formal title at an intimate moment like this, but not knowing what else to call him.
He broke their kiss and shifted so that he was lying on his side next to her, propped up on one elbow. He gazed down at her, looking very concerned.
“Are…” he began in a shaky voice. His cheeks were flushed, his blue eyes sparkled, and his hair was tangled; Tegan thought he looked quite delicious. “Are you sure…?”
She smiled up at him, and then began methodically unbuttoning his shirt, her lips following in the wake of her fingers to kiss the cool skin that was revealed under the parting fabric. She heard him inhale sharply. “Tegan,” he said shakily. She abandoned her unbuttoning project to smile up at him again.
“Yes?” she asked softly, gazing steadily into his blue eyes. She reached up to stroke his cheek. He covered her hand with his own, pressing it against his face and turning his head to kiss her palm.
“Would you…” She heard him swallow hard. “Would you like…?” Suddenly overcome with shyness, his face went an alarming shade of red and he dropped his gaze.
I thought he always knew what to do, what to say, Tegan thought wryly, marveling at how vulnerable he looked. He can’t be a sexual innocent, she reminded herself. That granddaughter Susan had to come from somewhere, didn’t she? Her mind immediately supplied her with an image of the young Doctor from the graduation hologram getting it on with some faceless Time Lady, both of them stark naked but for their elaborate Time Lord headdresses. She fought a heroic battle not to giggle and ruin the current mood.
Slowly, she sat up, turning slightly to look down at him.
“Yes, Doctor,” she said quietly. “I would very much like.”
Wordlessly, he rose from the sofa and offered her his hand. When she took it, he pulled her to her feet and led her up a short hallway to his bedroom. Like the living area, it was all white. Even the bedspread on the bed was white; combined with the chilly air, the effect was like being inside an igloo.
The Doctor sat down on the edge of the huge bed and looked down at the floor. Tegan sat next to him, also looking at the floor. They sat like this for a while, chastely not touching. Finally, when he couldn’t stand it any longer, he glanced over at her to see her brown eyes watching him intently. In one fluid motion, she suddenly pushed him down onto the bed and pinned him under her body, grinning mischievously.
“I’ve finally got you right where I want you, Doctor,” she said in a low voice, and bent her head to kiss him.
“I seem to be quite at your mercy,” he agreed readily between kisses, one hand coming up to stroke her hair. “Now that you’ve got me in your clutches, what are you going to do with me?”
She grinned down at him.
“Don’t you worry, Doctor, I’ll think of something!”
As it turned out, Tegan thought of quite a few somethings; the Doctor marveled at her creativity… and her stamina. I’m not as young as I used to be, he thought ruefully when they finally lay together quietly in the darkness, him on his back, her on her side snuggled up against him with her head resting on his bare chest.
“Mmm,” Tegan murmured dreamily, “I can hear your hearts.”
“Well I should hope so,” came the reply, making her laugh sleepily. “There would be something terribly wrong if you couldn’t!”
She felt him shift beneath her as he kicked at the blankets that covered them. “What’s wrong?” she asked.
“You’re very hot,” he told her. “And you’re making me very hot.”
“Ooo, baby, don’t you know it!” she agreed suggestively. He laughed. “Doctor,” she began.
He said something then that began with "Who" followed by a long string of incomprehensible syllables.
“What was that?” she asked, puzzled.
“Ah, and you thought Romana’s full name was a mouthful,” he said teasingly.
It took her a moment.
“Wait a minute,” she said suddenly, propping herself up on one elbow to look down at him in the darkness. “That’s your name?”
“Mmm hmm,” he affirmed. He could just make out her incredulous expression in the darkness. He repeated his full name for her, laughing at the look on her face as she did her best to take it in.
“Whodra… “ she tried. “Whodrev… Who — oh, whatever the hell it was!” she blurted out in exasperation. He laughed again. “Don’t any of you people have names like Joe or Jim?”
“Oh, Tegan,” he said, chuckling, “you’re too much!”
“So are you, Whod… oh forget it!” she said. “You can write it down for me later.” In the darkness, he saw her grin wickedly. “But don’t expect me to yell it out in the heat of passion, or we’ll be there all day!” He laughed again as she gave him a kiss and settled herself back onto the bed, snuggling up against him.
She pulled the covers up over them both; after a moment, there was some sleepy discussion regarding the blankets and what it was like to sleep next to someone whose body temperature made one feel like he was sleeping next to a blast furnace. This was countered by quite a long discourse on the frigid room temperature and what it was like to sleep next to someone whose body temperature made one feel like she was sleeping next to an iceberg. A resolution was reached involving Tegan taking all of the covers, and a promise to search the TARDIS storerooms for an electric blanket was made.
“I’ve never done this before, you know,” his voice suddenly said into the darkness. “Carried on an affair with one of my companions, I mean.”
“First time for everything,” came the sleepy reply.
The Doctor was silent for so long that Tegan thought he had fallen asleep.
“Tegan, I can’t remember the last time I said this to someone,” he finally said, and then spoke a phrase in a lilting musical language that she had never heard before.
“And what does that mean?” she asked, not daring to hope…
“I love you, Tegan,” he said softly, pulling her against him and gently stroking her cheek. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” she replied. “I love you, Whodra… Whodreva… oh sod it, I love you, Doctor!”
FINIS.