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Don’t you worry if you’re lonely, baby
I’m at your door
Put your troubles down upon me, baby
That’s what I’m for
People like us are too messed up
To live in solitude
I’m gonna cure that problem, baby
I’m gonna fix it good
- Eurythmics
“He’s very good with the hatchlings,” Sk’rilla, the matriarch of the Tarfulucian family the Doctor and Charley had been helping remarked, passing a cup of what appeared to be this planet’s version of tea. Charley took a sip and had to try very hard not to grimace at the bitter taste, unlivened by milk or sugar. “Do you have young of your own?”
Stymied for a minute by the unexpected question Charley glanced across the room, to where the Doctor was entertaining a small, blue and rather excitable audience with a few conjuring tricks. They seemed just as fascinated by his nose – Tarfulucians not possessing such a feature – and his hair as by the sleight of hand; as she watched one of them reached up to grab a clawful of the curls that these days were confined to the top of his head, and winced in sympathy when it pulled him down to its own level to take a closer look. Realising at length that Sk’rilla was still waiting for an answer she shook her head. “No, I… that is, no, we don’t.”
Sk’rilla sat back, nursing her cup, and watched her offspring as they hopped and scurried around the Doctor, some oohing and aahing as he pulled coins from their ears and made his sonic screwdriver disappear while others tugged at his coat tails and tried to clamber onto his back. “It seems strange not to wish to perpetuate your race, your bloodline.”
Charley cleared her throat awkwardly, “Well, it’s not really like that,” she said, instinctively smiling when the Doctor glanced at her and grinned. “We’re not… well, it’s complicated.”
Two eyebrows, barely visible in the scaly blue face, lifted in surprise. “But he is your mate, is he not? The two of you are... bonded?”
“Bonded?” It took a few seconds for Charley to understand what her companion meant and she felt a blush start in her cheeks. “Oh! No, nothing like that. We’re actually not even the same species; I’m human, but the Doctor… isn’t.”
There was a pause, and Sk’rilla observed the little group on the other side of the room once more. “How so? You look the same to me.”
“So do lots of races, apparently. As the Doctor says, the humanoid form is very useful and adaptable.” Charley took another sip of her unpalatable drink. “We’re just good friends,” she added when Sk’rila looked at her, large black eyes unblinking. “It’s nothing more than that.”
The Tarfulucian held her gaze for a long moment, and then she nodded. “If that is what you choose to believe.”
Charley opened her mouth to refute the statement, but as she did recalled that the Doctor had told her when they arrived that the natives of Tarful were mildly telepathic, that they could pick up on emotions. Empathic, that was the word. She wondered what she’d given away just then, watching him with the children; he looked in his element, crouching down now to speak to one of the brood who had been hanging back, too shy to approach him. The hatchling – she couldn’t be sure if it was a boy or a girl from this distance – was hesitant at first but after the Doctor had made it laugh by producing an unconvincing bunch of flowers from his sleeve it reached in to hug him, an embrace he happily returned, his face creasing in a soft smile as he held the child close. She sighed.
“It’s what I have to believe,” she told Sk’rilla. “That’s how it has to be. It’s for the best, really.”
“You should speak out,” Sk’rilla said. “No good ever comes of holding back words that should be free. There lies unhappiness.”
“I’m not unhappy. I’m actually happier than I’ve been in a long time. What we have… it’s more than I could have hoped for,” Charley said honestly. “I’m content; I don’t need more.”
“But you dream of it.”
The Doctor was approaching, disentangling himself from the little gaggle of admirers who trooped after him, begging him to stay in high-pitched voices. He was dishevelled but beaming, holding one by the hand while the littlest was tucked against his hip, burrowed into his coat, and Charley felt a pang of something she couldn’t quite identify. “Sometimes,” she murmured, just loud enough for Sk’rilla to hear. “Sometimes I do.”
“You two are looking very serious,” the Doctor remarked as he reached them, delivering his burden to its mother’s arms; it tried to hold on and he gently removed its tiny claws from his lapel, patting the one whose hand he’d been holding on the head and earning a happy cheep. “Anything wrong?”
“Not in the least,” Sk’rilla assured him, gracefully rising to her feet, the long, rope like tendrils of what Charley had mentally termed her hair swaying behind her. “We are more than grateful to you, Doctor. And to Charley, too. Without your assistance my clutch would have been destroyed.”
“All in a day’s work for us,” he said smoothly, adding as the little hatchling she held turned huge limpid eyes on him, “And by the way: I should keep an eye on that one; she’s destined for great things.”
Sk’rilla smiled, revealing needle-sharp teeth. “I know, and we will, you may be sure of that.”
“Did you mean it?” Charley asked a few minutes later when they were walking back to the TARDIS, which had hopefully been righted from the somewhat awkward angle at which it had landed amongst the rocks. She didn’t fancy having to crawl inside only to end up face down on the floor as the ship’s internal dimensions compensated for the gradient.
“Hmm? Did I mean what?” Strolling along, taking in the scenery they’d missed on their previous journey the Doctor’s mind had obviously been somewhere else entirely, but Charley couldn’t forget that conversation with Sk’rilla. As they’d left the Tarfulucian had cast her a knowing glance, as if Sk’rilla could see right through her.
“What you said about Sk’rilla’s youngest being destined for greatness. Was it the truth?”
“Oh, yes. She might be barely out of the shell but you just met Tarful’s future leader. She’ll take this planet – or rather, this star system – into the next century, ruling wisely and without recourse to war or bloodshed. We saved a very important person today, and in turn she’ll save many millions more. What?” he asked when she just shot him her patented ‘pull the other one’ look. “Don’t you believe me?”
“Usually.” She sighed, not quite sure why she was feeling so uncomfortable all of a sudden. Normally they held hands when they were walking alone like this but for some reason she couldn’t explain she’d stuffed hers into her pockets as they left Sk’rilla’s hut and after a brief surprised arch of the eyebrow he’d done the same, taking the cue to keep a respectful distance between them. She wished he hadn’t; it felt more like a yawning chasm than the couple of feet it actually was but she couldn’t really ask to take his hand now, not when she’d so obviously withdrawn. Not even certain why she had instead she turned her gaze down to her feet, watching for the change in the colour of the soil beneath them which marked the beginning of the rock formations that let up to the mountain.
They wandered in silence for a while. She didn’t really know what to say, too many thoughts swirling in her head; images of him playing with the hatchlings, diving to push her out of the range of half a dozen laser blasters that were aimed at them, lying unconscious on a pallet in Sk’rilla’s home after one of the invading soldiers got lucky… the pictures came and went, shifting back and forth until they returned to the one that had been haunting her for the past few weeks: his face after he’d kissed her in Regent’s Park and what she’d thought she saw shining in his eyes, just for a moment before they were interrupted by Liv and Helen.
Of course, given the Doctor couldn’t keep quiet forever she expected an eventual comment or question but wasn’t quite prepared when he asked without preamble, “Charley, is something wrong?”
“No,” she replied immediately even though she knew she wouldn’t fool him; he might on occasion pretend to be vague and obtuse but he was very, very far from stupid, even where human emotions were concerned. That eyebrow lifted again and she threw up her hands in frustration. “Yes. Oh, I don’t know! I just… argh!”
“I see. It’s an ‘argh’ problem. They’re the worst,” he said sagely and she couldn’t help laughing which made him smile. “Anything I can help with?”
“Perhaps.” Snow started to cover the ground and Charley wrapped her arms around her middle for support as much as warmth, listening to the crunch of her boots on the frozen surface. She paused, pondering her next words; she’d been dilly-dallying over having this conversation ever since they’d left London but told herself more than once that it wasn’t the time, putting it off partly because other things got in the way as they always did but if she was completely honest, also partly through cowardice. On reflection, given the life they led there was probably never going to be a perfect moment so she might as well just take the bull by the horns and get it over with, even if there was a good chance she wasn’t going to like the outcome; she needed to know, one way or the other. “Doctor,” she began when they’d walked a bit further, taking care not to look at him because if she did she knew she wouldn’t be able to say what she had to, “Can I ask you something?”
“You can ask me anything, Charley, you know that. Though,” he added thoughtfully after a brief consideration, “Don’t make it the recipe for Kkklikian pancakes because I think I’ve forgotten the answer to that one.”
“Don’t worry, I definitely won’t ask about that. I just…” She took a deep breath, steeling herself. “That kiss. In the park. At Christmas.”
It was a moment before he responded, and when he did his voice was quiet. “That’s not a question, Charley.”
“All right.” She came to a halt, hearing him do the same, and turned to face him. His features were creased in a faintly puzzled expression and she realised his hair was standing on end, the attentions of Sk’rilla’s brood leaving it looking like an unmown field, waving this way and that in the cold breeze. She made herself reach out to him, smoothing down the brocade of his waistcoat, and asked, “What did you mean by it?”
The creases deepened into a frown. “What do you mean, what did I mean?”
Here it was, the question she really hadn’t wanted to ask, the one she’d thought over so many times when she was trying to sleep. “Was it… was it genuine? Or were you just teasing, for Liv’s benefit and because of what I said? Because if you were…” She left the thought hanging, not wanting to voice it, and had to look away again, in case she might find a trace of denial or pity in his gaze.
“Oh, Charley.” The weight of his tone had her involuntarily turning back, and instead of either of those emotions she was surprised to find warmth and affection in his light blue eyes. “Do you really think I’d lead you on like that?”
“Well, I… I was only joking when I said I wouldn’t mind a snog,” she reminded him, but he shook his head and held out a hand to her, drawing her into a hug when she took it after a brief hesitation.
“No, you weren’t,” he said firmly, enquiring as she opened her mouth to argue, “Were you?”
“Well, no. Not entirely. But, that kiss… it was a bit more than a peck on the cheek and - ”
“I’ll admit, I may have got slightly carried away, but that doesn’t mean I was teasing.” The Doctor bent his head slightly so that he could meet her gaze, and smiled softly. “You’re far too precious to me for that.”
“Oh.” Suddenly Charley felt rather foolish. “I thought you might have just been playing along, trying to get one up on Liv. I know what you two are like.”
“Then I’ll put your mind at rest: I wasn’t teasing, or stringing you along.” He sighed, resting his forehead against hers. “Is this why you’ve been so quiet lately?”
“I didn’t think you’d noticed. You didn’t say anything.”
“I didn’t want to intrude. I knew you’d tell me when you were ready. And if it was something you didn’t want me to know, well…” He shrugged. “I hope I’ve learnt enough from travelling with humans to recognise when to leave things alone.”
Charley had to laugh at that and the Doctor’s smile returned.
“What? You don’t think I’m sensitive to my companions’ emotions?”
“Not entirely; I’ve seen you rub us up the wrong way often enough.” She kept her tone light, not wanting to mention C’rizz’s death and his utterly insensitive reaction; it was ancient history and he’d been through a lot since. They both had. He might not have understood her then - experiencing grief in a different way, a way that she in turn hadn’t been able to understand - but he had shown himself to be rather more attuned to the humans around him since, something for which she was grateful. “But,” she said, wrapping an arm around his waist and leaning into him, feeling him gently nuzzle her temple, “I do need to know where we’re going with this. You and me, here and now.”
“Are you… are you asking me what my intentions are towards you, Miss Pollard?” he asked, sounding faintly amused.
“I suppose I am, yes. You can’t just snog a girl senseless in a park and leave her dangling, you know, even if there is mistletoe. It’s just not cricket.”
He thought about that. “I see. I obviously need to read up on the rules of the game; I’m rather out of practise.” She felt as well as heard the slightly nervous chuckle he gave and he ran a hand through his hair, making it stick up even more. “That’s if I ever was in practise, of course. Time Lords aren’t really very good at this sort of thing. They don’t teach it at the Academy; we’re meant to be above such mundane emotions, that’s why we get so scared and stupid when we start to feel them.”
Charley had an idea what he meant but she needed to hear it out loud. Though her feelings for him hadn’t changed she’d not dared to say those three little words since her return, not wanting to stir up ghosts of the past. It had been enough just to be with him, but since Christmas, and now, after what Sk’rilla had said, what she’d assumed… “What kind of emotions?”
“Fondness. Affection.” There was a pause, and the Doctor’s voice dropped until it was almost a whisper in her ear. “Love.”
That one word had the power to transport her back to that dreadful tube and their harrowing ordeal, memories she’d done her best over the years to suppress. The cruelty they’d been subjected to, that he’d subjected her to… she’d known he was hurting, ripped away from everything he knew, his time senses gone, burned out of his mind, and somewhere, deep down, she could partly understand his reasons for lashing out, his feelings of betrayal, of her betrayal; he’d wanted to keep her safe, had exiled himself, sent himself to certain death for her, and she’d negated it all by following him. She’d only wanted to be by his side, to ease his pain, but he just felt she’d made everything worse, to the extent of spurning her confession, throwing it back in her face. And it had hurt so, so much…
Of course I love you! I killed myself for you, didn’t I? Of course I love you.
They’d never spoken of it again. When they finally left the Divergent universe he’d practically ordered her not to think of him that way and she’d tried; over the years she’d tried so hard to forget him, and the way she felt, but it was a tie she’d been ultimately unable to break. They went through so much together; that time in the tube had scarred them both, but also brought them closer than anyone else could ever have become. They were part of each other, for better or worse, and all that time they’d been apart she’d always felt that there was something missing, there was an ache deep within her, a space that could never be filled by anyone else.
“Don’t…” She pressed her fingers against his lips, “Don’t say it unless you mean it.” That was what she’d told him all that time ago. Those words were too precious to be squandered.
The Doctor took her hand away, squeezing it. “I do mean it. I love you, Charlotte Elspeth Pollard,” he said seriously, his eyes on hers. “I shouldn’t; Time Lords aren’t meant to fall in love with our own kind, let alone stray humans they save from certain death and cause cataclysmic temporal paradoxes for. But then, as we both know, I’ve always been a pretty rubbish Time Lord.”
Charley laughed again, but this time it came out sounding more like a gulp. “What about the others? All those other companions you’ve had. Don’t you love them, too?”
“Of course I do.” His tone suggested that should be obvious. “I love everyone who’s travelled with me. Well, not the Eleven,” he conceded with a grimace after a moment’s consideration. “I did my best with him but that would be pushing it a bit. Well, a lot, actually. But aside from him, yes, I love them all, but I’ve only ever said ‘I love you’ to one person: you.”
“Not even to Grace?” She cringed with internal embarrassment at her younger self when she recalled the couple of visits they’d made to early twenty-first century San Francisco, and the jealousy that had consumed her as she watched his easy rapport with the rather glamorous American heart surgeon. When they returned to the TARDIS he’d asked her more than once if she was all right, her dislike of the older woman probably all too obvious in the rather imperious manner that to her shame had a tendency to rear its head in those situations, and she’d had to come up with some excuse that she was sure he hadn’t believed and probably still didn’t, if he remembered it at all.
“Not even to Grace. She’s a good friend, the first friend this me had, and yes, I care for her a lot, but I don’t love her, or any of the others, the way I love you. You’re special, Charley,” the Doctor told her. When she looked down he chucked her under the chin, raising her gaze to his once more. “I wasn’t lying when I told your mother we were kindred spirits. I don’t think I’ve ever felt about anyone the way I’ve always felt about you.”
A warmth was spreading through Charley, born of relief that she had been worrying for nothing but also a glow of happiness to have heard those words from him again after so long, heard them uttered away from pain and fear and danger, heard them offered genuinely, sincerely, without anger and recrimination. “I love you too,” she said, and that beautiful, beaming smile began to spread across his face. He wrapped his arms around her, his cheek resting against hers, and she held on tight. “I always have and I always will.”
The Doctor chuckled. “I said the universe had a reason for throwing us together, didn’t I?”
More than you know, Charley thought, pushing away an increasingly-familiar twinge of guilt that she couldn’t tell him about the time she’d spent with his other self. She hated keeping secrets from him, but she couldn’t do otherwise; telling him risked serious damage to the timelines, something she couldn’t even consider given all the trouble they’d already caused. Pulling back slightly so that she could kiss him, just quickly, she asked, “So what does this make us?”
The slight v shape that was always present between his eyebrows deepened into a faint frown. “What do you mean?”
“Well, are we a couple now? Liv seems to think so, and Sk’rilla thought you were my mate.”
“Well, I am, aren’t I? We’re the best of mates.”
Charley tutted. “Not that kind of mate.”
“Oh.” Comprehension dawned and his brows rose. “Oh.”
“I’m not expecting anything official, or permanent,” she told him, sensing more than seeing the worry that briefly flashed in his eyes. “I’m happy just to be with you.”
“And I with you. I don’t think I’ve felt as content in centuries as I have since you came back. But, Charley,” the Doctor said earnestly, his gaze roaming her face as he obviously cogitated the implications of this discussion, “for all that we’ve had a fresh start, things haven’t changed on a fundamental level. Our current circumstances might be different but I still can’t give you the kind of life you need, the one you wanted. I wish I could.”
“A human life, you mean? With a husband and children? Roses round the door? Is that really what you still think I want?” Frustrated that he could still be thinking that way after so long, and at herself for wondering, as she had when she was watching him with the Tarfulucian brood, whether she did want that, if only for a second, Charley shook her head. “I see what you mean about things not changing: you’re still arrogant enough to think you know what I need without actually asking me.”
“I thought that was what humans usually aspired to: progeny, family, companionship.” An eyebrow flicked when she just looked at him. “Am I wrong?”
“No; some humans may aspire to that. Most of them for all I know, but I can tell you here and now that this particular human doesn’t need it, not any more,” she told him firmly, shoving any thoughts to the contrary aside. “To be honest, I’m not sure I ever did. Everything I ever wanted… I found it in the TARDIS. With you.”
“Oh, Charley.” The Doctor let his head fall forwards to rest on her shoulder and she knew he didn’t believe her, not completely. “I took you away from everything you should have had.”
“Rubbish. If you recall, I should have died in a burning airship so I’m actually quite pleased that you did,” she retorted, and he huffed something that might have been a laugh.
“In spite of the consequences?”
“Even then. Consequences notwithstanding, it was the best day of my life.” Charley stroked his cheek, shoring up her defences against these sudden dreams of domestication. They were just silly fancies, born of watching a happy family; she knew that she was no more cut out for that kind of life than him, the lure of excitement too great. “What would I have done if I hadn’t stowed away on the R101? Married some chinless wonder and been buried in the country, popping out an heir and several spares with monotonous regularity? Or been taken up to town occasionally to be shown off at a boring and interminable dinner party? Spent my time sitting around chatting with other women in the same boat, all drinking tea and talking about the weather because nothing even remotely interesting ever happens to them? If that’s the choice then I would take a life of adventure with you every time, and hang the consequences.”
“You - ” He looked faintly baffled by that declaration. “You really never wanted a family? Children of your own?”
In all honesty until now it wasn’t something she’d ever really considered; children were things other people had, like yachts and racing stables, not something she’d thought she wanted. And as time went on and relationships had been few and fleeting, certainly not the sort that might lead to settling down, any ideas that she might vaguely have had in that direction had faded into the distance. But still… “Do you know what Mama said to me, just before we left? She said she thought I’d make a good mother.”
“And so you would.” The corners of his eyes crinkled gently. “You’d be the best. Any children of yours would be the luckiest kids out there.”
Once again she tried not to think about that, about what could have happened had they been normal, if he’d been human, if, if, if - “In some other lifetime, perhaps. I don’t know. But that ship has sailed now, hasn’t it? I’m well into middle age so it’s a bit late to be thinking of such things. Anyway,” she said before he could head off on a tangent, inform her that there were a hundred ways in the future to bypass such a problem, “There’s Lottie; a niece is just as good, I think. Probably better; I can spoil her as much as I like without having to take on the responsibility. And I do have children, of a sort. I have children with you.”
The Doctor gave a derisive snort. “Oh, yes: a creature made of sound and a sentient house. Hardly conventional – or desirable - offspring.”
“That’s no surprise: since when have we done anything the conventional way?”
“Good point. But Charley - ”
She tapped his lips again, cutting off whatever it was he had been about to say. “I’m happy. Here. Right now. I don’t need any more. Can you get that through your thick Gallifreyan skull?” she asked, pressing her forehead against his once more, harder this time in the vain hope that she might drive the thought into his brain, and into hers as well. “I don’t want anyone else, or a life that might have been, if we were different people. I just want what we have now. I just want you.”
The Doctor shook his head, his arms tightening around her. “I don’t deserve you.”
“Oh, what rot! I’ll decide who deserves me or not and I say you jolly well do.”
“Thank you.” This time he was the one to draw back a little to look her in the eye and one corner of his mouth quirked in that soft lop-sided smile. When he spoke again there was hopeful note in his voice. “I don’t have any mistletoe, but if you’re up for a second snog..?”
Charley pretended to seriously consider that. “I don’t think the mistletoe is compulsory,” she concluded eventually, and laughed when he leaned in again to capture her lips, his own soft and cool and tasting of tea and chocolate. He kissed her with as much enthusiasm as he’d shown in Regent’s Park, lifting one hand from her back to caress the side of her head, his thumb stroking her temple and sending a pleasurable shiver down her spine. Though he might not be the most accomplished at such things she didn’t mind in the least, a few fleeting liaisons over the years hardly making her an expert; it was somehow both passionate and achingly sweet and she returned it with equal ardour, the sound he made when she traced her fingertips along the prominent slope of his jaw stirring something in her that no one else had ever managed to rouse.
“Sk’rilla was right,” she said breathlessly when they finally broke apart, wondering whether he’d sneakily engaged his respiratory bypass. “It is better to speak out.”
“I told you the Tarfulucians are a wise race. So what now?” the Doctor asked, hooking a lock of her hair that had fallen into her eyes with one long finger and brushing it aside. “Where do we go from here?”
“Home.”
“Home?” He seemed slightly baffled by the word.
“Yes, home. Back to the TARDIS. And after that… business as usual. Well, nothing’s really changed, has it?” Charley pointed out. “We’ve just… clarified a few things. The universe isn’t going to end.”
“Not this time.” Releasing her he offered a hand and she took it, linking her fingers with his. “No Sentris, no Rassilon. No… Zagreus.” His jaw tightened as he said that name, unspoken for such a long time, and Charley squeezed his fingers; after a moment he relaxed, glancing at her with a smile. “It’s just us.”
“Good. I don’t want anyone else in this relationship.” She kept her tone deliberately light; neither of them wanted to go down that path. It was all dead and buried, and she’d be happy never to resurrect it. “It was getting far too crowded.”
Darkness had begun to fall while they talked, and as they headed up the track that led to the TARDIS it was all she could do to smother a great yawn that welled up, reminding her that she’d been roused in the middle of the (relative) night when the ship had picked up Sk’rilla’s distress signal.
“I think it’s past your bedtime, Miss Pollard,” the Doctor remarked with a chuckle, and she leaned her head on his shoulder.
“And whose fault is that?” she groused, gripping his arm and trying not to stumble over the uneven ground. “You woke me up!”
“Yes, but it was all in a good cause, wasn’t it?”
“I suppose so. The usual near-death experiences, terrifying threats and worrying myself silly about your injuries notwithstanding.” Charley peered at the partially-healed cut that was just about visible beneath the closely-cropped hair an inch or so above his left ear. “How’s your head?”
“It’s fine. All right, it aches a bit, but that’s all,” he conceded when she just gave him a look. “I’ll be as right as ninepence in a couple of hours.”
“I’ll dress it properly when we get back to the TARDIS, and give you a scan, too; make sure there’s no damage done.”
“I don’t need all that; it’s not much more than a scratch. But you need your sleep,” he said firmly when she began to argue and was halted by another huge yawn. “I’ll try to hold off any more inter-planetary distress calls for a while so you can have a lie-in.”
“How very generous of you,” Charley retorted, knowing full well that if the TARDIS picked up something else important he’d rouse her in an instant, whatever he claimed. They wandered in companionable silence for a few minutes and by the time the outline of the TARDIS appeared through the encroaching gloom she was almost nodding off, moving her feet automatically and all but hanging on the Doctor’s arm.
In their absence the police box had thankfully been straightened and he leant her against it, glancing at her in fond amusement as he found the key and unlocked the door. “Would you like me to tuck you in?”
“Actually…” Shaking her head to clear it she hesitated, wondering whether she should even ask the question that popped into her mind, and then scolded herself for being silly. “Will you… will you stay with me tonight? No strings,” she added hurriedly when his brows rose in surprise, heading for his hairline. “It’s just… well, I want to keep an eye on you after that head wound - ” One eyebrow lowered, that statement not fooling him in the slightest “ – and… oh, I just can’t stop remembering when we were holed up in that cabin a few weeks ago. You know, when we were… together. I haven’t been able to settle nearly so well since; that was the best night’s sleep I’ve had in years.”
He blinked. “It was?”
“Yes. Definitely.” He said nothing more, and she inwardly inwardly kicked herself for even mentioning it; she’d obviously made him uncomfortable. “I’m sorry; I shouldn’t have brought it up. Forget I said anything. We can just - ”
“No, no, no, that’s not it! That’s not it at all!” the Doctor exclaimed before she could backtrack any further. “I just…” Both eyebrows lowering he puffed out a slow breath. “I wasn’t expecting it, that’s all. Given everything we’ve just been talking about…”
“As I said, no strings attached. I don’t expect anything from you. It’s just that… well, it was rather nice to snuggle,” Charley admitted, adding with a cheeky grin in an attempt to dispel the sudden tension, “Even if you are a bit bony these days.”
“Hey!” He glanced down at himself, tugging at his waistcoat, pulling it this way and that, and frowned. “I’m not, am I?”
“You are. You have the physique of a toothpick,” Charley informed him with mock seriousness, laughing when he looked put out. “Oh, your face! It’s all right, I’m only kidding. I wouldn’t have you any other way. So will you stay?”
He made a show of thinking about that for so long she thwapped him on the arm, making him yelp. “Ow! Yes, all right, if that’s what you want. I could probably do with a bit of a kip myself.” As he opened the TARDIS door she yawned again, this one big enough to crack her jaw, and he rolled his eyes. The key vanished into his pocket and without warning he scooped her into his arms, carrying her inside; Charley squeaked in protest and this time it was his turn to laugh. “Come on, sleepyhead. You’ll end up on the floor if you’re not careful.”
“There’s something horribly symbolic about this,” Charley said as he easily bore her off down the stairs, proving once again that he was much stronger than his slight frame and modest stature suggested, stopping to set the ship in motion before heading for the interior door.
“Hmm?” The Doctor was distracted by the need to navigate the clutter of the console room without tripping over anything. “What’s that?”
“You’ve just carried me over the threshold. In several cultures that means we’re married.”
“It does?" He thought about that. "Well, I suppose we could always get married.”
Charley lifted her head from where it had been resting on his shoulder again and blinked at him. “You’re not serious? You’d actually do that for me?” He shrugged. “How would that even work? You don’t have a proper name! What would I call myself: Mrs Doctor?”
“How about Mrs Smith? That’s what you were calling yourself when we went to visit your mother.”
“Yes, and then I’d be married to a man who doesn’t exist!” She hid her face in his neck, quivering as she tried to suppress the tired giggles that rose uncontrollably at the thought of something so absurd. “I suppose that makes about as much sense as anything in my life ever does.”
He chuckled. “We don’t have to do it. It was just a idea.”
“It was a nice idea.” Still smiling, Charley shook her head. “Ridiculous, but nice.”
“You’re sure? I think I have a rather nice Virillian gold ring around here somewhere, and I know this little - ”
She kissed him on the end of his nose, cutting him off. “I don’t need that.”
“Really?” Was it her imagination or was there a hint of relief in his voice?
“Really. We’ve been one person; I don’t think any ceremony could make us closer than that. Do you?”
The Doctor smiled. “No, Charley, I don’t.” They reached her door and he nudged it open with his hip, setting her down carefully on the bed. “Shall I make some tea?”
Charley slapped a hand over her mouth as her biggest yawn yet tried to escape. “I think hot milk might be better.”
“Your wish is my command. I won’t be long.” He started to cross the room again but stopped when she called his name.
“Do we have any cocoa?” she asked hopefully, and he laughed.
“I’ll see what I can do.”
Drowsily Charley managed to wash and change for bed and ten minutes later he was back, bearing two mugs of cocoa and wearing a pair of pyjamas and dressing gown that made him look as though he’d escaped from a Noel Coward play, about which she teased him mercilessly for a few minutes before they settled down together. It wasn’t awkward; if anything it was the complete opposite, and as she drifted off, with his arms around her and her head tucked under his chin as though it belonged there she reflected that Sk’rilla had been correct: they were bonded, though in a far deeper way than the purely physical. Their bond was unique; they’d experienced things – good and bad - together that no one else would ever understand and that meant more, much more. Of course, should anything else ever happen between them then, well, that was a conversation for another day. For now this would do.
This would do very nicely.