rude_not_ginger | AU RP for ambitious

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AU RP for ambitious_woman

Illness

A Time Lord shouldn't be separated from his TARDIS. He knew this, it was a fairly simple, fairly straightforward rule that every Time Tot was taught back in the nursery. Time Lord and TARDIS were connected, part of a whole, part of a sum and all that. There were horror stories that Ushas used to tell over nightcom about Time Lords who had been without their ship for long periods of time and went insane, or worse. The "worse" was, of course, described in accurate, gruesome details, much to the 'ooooh'ing and 'aaaahhh'ing of those listening in.

The Doctor just never believed he'd be on the end of that sort of experience.

His ship was a lifetime away. More than that, lifetimes away, and he could feel it. He could feel the lack of a ship in his mind and it ached. More than ached, it was as if a large part of him was missing and he'd only just lost the anesthetics keeping the sensation of missing away.

He had meant to do a good deal today, most of which involved bothering the cook into frying chips and rewriting Reinette's library. These were his main plans, and they were good ones.

As it was, he was curled up on the floor of his bedroom, the shakes and stomachache from the night before having finally decided that his lack of response on the matter was unacceptable. He cried out sharply, a noise that only vaguely sounded human, and may have been a name.

"Reinette!"

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Reinette was quite willing to give the Doctor her rapt attention, and listen to him on almost any subject. Except for that sort of apology. For after all, in saving her, he had trapped himself. That still held true, and overshadowed almost anything that might come after.

"Hush," she ordered warmly, not willing to discuss such a topic.

The continued to move, step echoing step as Reinette traveled backward and into her own room One hand remained anchored to the Doctor's arm. As if to assure herself that he was there, not still prostrate on the floor. She had begun to doubt her ability to assist him. So seeing him standing, even if it was a struggle?

Perhaps, Reinette decided, she did not speak more because she could not speak more.

He did as instructed, and silenced himself. As they neared the bed, he raised his free hand to loosen his ascot. It was soaked through with sweat---not the most attractive of sights, he imagined---and he let it drop to the floor. His boots, unlaced as he had been lacing them when he collapsed, slipped off his feet as well, leaving a trail of ascot, left boot, right boot from the door to his room.

And there he was. Without his shoes, he had no real way to run anymore, and that was all he knew how to do; run away. Now, he was trapped in a world he didn't truly understand, with no shoes and no direction.

At least she was not abandoning him.

Once they reached the bed Reinette reached behind her, never once letting her eyes leave the Doctor as she fumbled sightlessly for the sheers. It made sense to look for what she needed, but there was something in his gaze she could not pull away from.

Fingers curling over the silver handles, she lifted the sheers and slipped them carefully between their two bodies. For all that they were needed, she fought not to think of them as an intruder, and unwanted. Salted by his sweat and seasoned by his hurt, they were still connected in ways Reinettee wished to understand more.

But they could not go through the rest of their time together wearing a sheet. With one careful turn of her wrist, Reinette set them both free.

He felt the fabric fall away between them, but didn't move away from her. As she had said before, where would he go? There was nowhere else on the Earth where he'd rather be.

He leaned his forehead forward, pressing it gently against hers. He could still feel the remnants of their connection, the connection she forced on him that he was neither ready for nor desired, but needed completely.

"You saved me." The words were whispered even as he thought them, and he added to them a note of gratitude; "Thank you."

His forehead brushed her own, and after the strain of the events in the other room it would have been so simple to close her eyes, to feel, to get lost in the almost-connection. But as always, when he was near, Reinette could never stopping looking, and seeing. Drinking him in.

"Not to be a child about such things?"

Because truthfully, Reinette much preferred that she was no longer a child in the Doctor's eyes.

"But you did save me first."

The memory brought a smile.

He had been truly magnificent on that horse.

He grinned at her. The muscles in his face hurt, so it wasn't the most magnificent of grins, but it was one with much emotion behind it.

"Yeah, I did, didn't I?" he said, "I'm very glad I did. Would've been alone there if I didn't."

That wasn't the only reason, of course. Saving her had been the right thing to do. He couldn't have left her to that kind of fate. Not Reinette.

He felt his hand move up to cup her cheek, his thumb tracing her cheekbone. The way she had so long ago, when she saw him first as a woman, examining him for the first time. In a way, it was as if he was looking at her for the first time, seeing a woman who was strong (and stubborn, his mind added), who was willing to give everything for him.

Reinette had always approved of a well placed compliment. Her nature and upbringing dictated as much. She worked hard to reach where she was, and if people wanted to notice, and appreciate? Well, she was more than inclined to allow it.

But this all suggested something darker. Thick and heavy it seemed to connect them even now. Reinette was thankful to be alive. That would always be true. But she could still not accept the Doctor was less alive because of it.

And it was certainly not a situation she wished to be complimented for.

"You would have found someone," she assured him, attempting to push past that moment. He always did find someone -- eventually. She had seen that, in his mind. "They just might not have had my way with knots."

"Maybe," he replied, with a small nod, "I would've. Found someone else, that is."

He did have companions come and leave often. He was used to it, tried to make the idea seem routine in his mind, even though each and every change always hurt, always affected him. Grace and Bernie and Fitz and...all of them. When they arrived, it changed him. When they left, it changed him.

"Still," he added, "I'm very glad it was you."

It was probably far from the right time for another intimate gesture, but he was never very good at doing the right thing at the right time. He leaned forward, and pressed a kiss next to her mouth. As chaste as possible (she was Reinette, after all), and as softly as possible (he was still rather uncoordinated).

Those that thought they knew Reinette might have made their own attempts to predict the next moments. For all that she was bold, she was not rash, and as the Doctor's mouth brushed the corner of her own most might have thought her to simply accept as much. To possibly laugh. To certainly kiss both his cheeks as well to assure even footing. To never let him asert himself so when they both knew how week he remained.

Reinette, ruled by her head.

But those that knew her, knew how often she was swayed by her heart. That group numbered two men, exactly. One of when stood next to her even now.

"I am very glad it is you."

Standing here. A survivor. And in the present tense.

The smallest turn of her head gave him full access to her mouth.

For all that the past and the present tenses didn't always translate well into the Time Lord language, he understood what she meant, and he smiled in response.

What was it he had said in his Third incarnation? Where there's life, there's hope? Hope. He had to keep that,in order to keep moving.

She tilted her head slightly, and he kissed her again, more properly this time. Slowly, deeply, every ounce of his emotional and weakened state at her mercy. He trusted her, loved her, and, really, this was only a very short fall from where he'd already tumbled. His free hand slipped down to her waist, and he held her close. No binds to tie them, but they weren't apart.

Reinette allowed herself several full, memorable minutes of indulgence. It was never so much that they deliberately teased one another, or attempted to hurt the other with purposed intent. And she was fairly certain that her own desire was stronger than his own. After all, hers was a love thirty years in the making.

It became difficult, she knew, to have what you wanted most so close, and not to reach for it. But he was still learned, and often still confused by her time. Reinette refused to burden him with more.

With a soft breath, she finally lifted her mouth mere inches from his own.

"You must be exhausted."

He didn't want to move away. He could've easily considered it part of their lingering connection, of being so utterly connected to her for so many moments, but it was more than that. He desired her, he was becoming quite used to this emotion. And he was fairly certain that his own desire was stranger than her own. After all, he was still fresh in his knowledge of her, all of her wits and abilities and his love was new. She had to have grown tired of him after having him pop in and out for so many years.

"Yeah," he admitted, "Weak, mostly. But I'm not dead, at least."

His thumb slid along her cheekbone, then traced along her jaw. She was so fragile, he knew, and yet she could hold him up. Him. A 900-year-old Timelord who had brought down empires.

Her own hand lifted to catch the Doctor's cheek and cradle it in her palm. She used to wrist free of his bruise intentionally. For while we was willing to step away from them moment in some ways, she could not bring herself to shatter it.

His skin was warm, but it lo longer burned. Or if it did, Reinette just allowed herself to imagine it was a different sort of heat. She was rather fond of her imaginings.

"No Doctor," she agreed. "You are everything that is alive."

Reinette had been ill prepared what it would be like to have him sleeping in the next room night, after night, after night. When Louis left her, it had always been to return to her chambers, a full wing away.

It seemed that it was less frustrating when all of the sky stood between them, instead of a few walls.

He leaned his face into her palm. Oh, but he was attached. Attached to her emotionally, mentally, physically...

He traced down her face with the back of his palm, sliding his skin across hers. Down her jaw, tracing her throat and collarbone.

How wrong was it, to want her after taking so much already? It had to have been the connection, the need to feel.

"I get that trait from you," he said, "I borrowed it when I needed it most."

That, Reinette was sure? Was most decidedly not fair.

The mere fact that the Doctor sought to extend her touch was already enough to threaten her resolve. For eight months now she had kept much of her nature at bay. The young girl that had trapped him against a fireplace, and the woman that had sought a king with dedicated purpose. Both those set aside in favor of friend, and companion -- what Reinette was sure he needed far more. She would not be the cause of more confusion. Not when she knew the Doctor already viewed her world as muddled, and oddly shaped.

And yet knew also knew that all it might take would be a single word, or touch. Some indication that yes he might want her as well.

Though no, that was not it at all.

Reinette was accustomed to men wanting her. They dressed themselves in their desire for her to openly read, and she knew on some levels the Doctor was attracted to her. What she was waiting for, she decided then?

Was to know for sure that he wanted his own desire.

But now his hand was tracing over her skin, traveling across already-sensative flesh. Was it gratitude the Doctor was reaching to touch, or was it her?

Reinette met his eyes, and tried to decide.

"You may have anything from me you might wish," she assured him, truthfully. "You only have to ask."

This whole concept of courting and attraction was far too complicated, especially with his mind in pieces as it was that evening. He desired her, was nearly completely certain that he loved her, and yet he lacked any way to express his emotions for her, and even less certainty that he should.

She was more than just a courtesan, after all. Especially to him. Would expressing or taking what he did wish reduce her to that? Could she be a woman and not a mistress, to him? How could he tell her she was?

"My grip is off," he said, swallowing, "Weak arms, I'm rather terrified I'll drop what I want and ruin it."

Terrible metaphor, his mind scolded him. He could've done so much better.

...what I want.

His words made enough sense to Reinette, and a brief smile flared at their sound. He might have struggled with the words, but they spoke to her all the same.

She might have pointed out that she already was ruined. Rather helplessly so. But Reinette knew that Doctor well enough to expect his argument there.

"That suggests I need to be carried," Reinette said plainly, for it was what she knew. She cut through his metaphor. "I do not need to be carried, and nor do you. We both walked away from this morning, remember?"

Her features softened, as both of Reinette's hands moved to trace down the Doctor's shoulders, and rest on his arms.

"And if anything needs mending after? Well, you have seen my knots. I make quite a neat stitch as well."

"Well, I do have a pair of trousers that I tore in the garden a few days back..." For the first time that day, a cheeky grin appeared on his face. The pain from before settled into a dull ache, and he could feel most of who he was come back, seeping through.

Most, of course.

The hand that traced her collarbone slid down further, grazing the boning of her corset before his hand finally rested against her hipbone. It was a bit like a dance. She placed her hands on his shoulders, he slid his hand along her skin, and they repeat, move forward, step apart.

He wished he knew all the steps beforehand. Then again, that would've made the dance less thrilling, knowing every step in it.

That smile did much for Reinette, who still privately wondered at the wisdom of her actions before. If there had been more time, she might have been able to think of something else. But of course there was not.

And she knew that both of them looked far from their best, battered and bruised. Clothing stained and torn. And the Doctor, of course, shoeless. And yet Reinette could think of no other tome when she had found him more attractive, than in this moment. Not even the night of the Yew Tree ball.

He looked? Like a survivor. And that was something she understood, and appreciated. Reinette took a step closer. She did not belittle herself by pretending that she needed reassurance he was all right. Or that she was exhausted from their encounter and needed his support.

She moved closer because she wanted to.

It was not lost on her that the bed was close as well.

"And what fared worse," she teased lightly. "My garden, or your clothing?"

One never knew what the Doctor was up to.

"Oh, I think my clothing," the Doctor replied, "Your garden's got quite the vicious streak to it. You know my clothing, though, always tries to fight back."

This was so intimate. So comfortable, and yet so charged. They had slept in the same bed before, they had even been lovers before, but that was so very long ago for them. And so much had changed since then.

Forget about the dance.

He, too, moved closer, his hands sliding from her hips to circle around her back.

"If you are suggesting that I should be afraid of your clothing," Reinette announced, barely masking the hitch in her breath at the feel of the Doctor's hands on her back. "I must inform you that I am not."

She could feel his breath through her hair, feel the way it moved and reacted to him, even as she tried to control such things within herself.

To prove her point Reinette's hands deftly moved to undo the top button of his finely crafted shift, and slipped her fingers just beneath so that they touched skin.

"Not even a tremble."

Though, perhaps there was. Just not one born of fear. No it was -- a shiver. Slight, but there.

She could not not kiss him then, Reinette decided.

Had she once initiated a kiss since the Doctor's arrival in her home? She did not think so. Perhaps that was were the urgency of this one was born.

She shivered and he trembled. Again, she succeeded in controlling him with only the slightest of touches.

And for all that his mind couldn't figure out when to move or stay, he did know that now was the time that she should be kissed. She moved towards him, and he caught her kiss easily. Deeply. Unlike their every kiss before, to him at least, this was the first that was borne out of a long period of waiting. Out of longing. Reinette lived her life with it, he only just learned.

He held her close as they kissed, memorized the feel of her, even with the bruises and the sweat and the pain between them, she was still so wonderful. So warm and perfect and loving and Reinette and he didn't want anything else.

The intensity of their connection must have lingered, because at this distance -- or lack of it -- Reinette could sense a great deal of the Doctor's thoughts. Not perfectly formed, perhaps, or clearly read. But the general sense was there.

She smiled beneath his kiss, even as she was reminded that the Doctor kissed as he spoke. Quickly, with a command of both the language, and herself, he was utterly unique.

And she was far from the wonderful his thoughts proclaimed.

Gently, her teeth caught his lower lip to remind him as much.

Reinette knew she was being selfish allowing things to progress so. Even this far. He was exhausted -- bruised. But she could not bring herself to point as much out.

His breath caught at the feel of her teeth. Real. She was real, and he could feel it. He couldn't feel many things, especially now, but he could feel this. He could sense her beyond the physical. She was there, and she still wanted him.

He pulled back, enough to look down at her, too see her as he felt her. Completely and as real as he could see her. She was still so beautiful, despite the small lines of age that took up residence beneath her eyes. Clear hair with a few lines of grey just starting to show, but still so young.

He leaned forward, pressing his lips to the crease beside her right eye, then the small tuft of grey hair beside her left ear. He allowed his kisses to linger. She was human in every way, even the things they despised in themselves, but that, that was what made her fit him so well. She could age when he did not, she could understand life when he felt as though he missed out. If that was not something to celebrate, then he did not know what was.

Reinette might have bristled momentarily at how quickly the Doctor discerned the location of the flaws she knew so well, that she watched with critcal eye. She knew she was a vain woman. It was part of her upbringing, and only reinforced with the life she lead. There was little room for error when standing next to king.

But it also meant, Reinette decided, that the Doctor knew. Knew her in a way only -- no, perhaps no other had. Knew her flaws and her weaknesses, and yet also did not use them against her. His was no an attack on her being, instead it was an assault on her senses.

She softened slightly in his arms, yielding to that idea.

Dipping her head slightly Reinette moved to place a kiss precisely between his two hearts, not minding the shirt in between.

AU RP for ambitious_woman

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