rude_not_ginger | RP for perfectblue

Her eyes widened a little at his choice of words, the lonely god, and their similarity to the truth of what she'd been.

"We aren't so different, are we?" she asked, some small understanding dawning again, each little piece of the puzzle almost but not quite clicking. "In my dreams the temple is filled to its limits, buzzing with life, and yet now I keep only the company of one lone follower who stays because he has nowhere else he would belong."

She remembered he'd said she left him, that they'd traveled together and then she'd left, and winced a bit internally at the cruelty of that, unintentional though it may have been. When she spoke again, it was careful and deliberate, but direct, her now-brown eyes unblinking in their certainty.

"I think I must have stayed for more than just your time ship."

Her words were so ridiculously kind.

Further proof of how not-Illyria she was.

And yet she was, still. And completely understanding. Which was entirely frustrating, too.

He took a breath. Nodded slowly. Glanced around as if the fob watch could see what he was thinking. "Now, I'm going to do something. I've...it's something I've... Don't be afraid, and don't tell her, because she'll probably hate me if you do."

He leaned down and quickly, chastely, kissed her on the mouth.

It took her by surprise, and yet it didn't, because she'd been half-waiting for someone to kiss her over the course of three very strange conversations with three equally strange men who she suspected had more reasons for the awkwardness with which they spoke to her than just the fact that she was different.

It was such a brief and chaste sort of kiss that she hardly had time to react properly, but she didn't pull away, either, but stood blinking at him after, a tiny smile upon her lips.

"...Well," she said, after a moment's pause. "That was certainly a great deal more direct than the others were."

"Others?"

He was still a bit shell-shocked by his own actions. To do something so intimate, and especially with Illyria. Kissing just wasn't common in his species.

And yet, it was something he'd wanted to do with her for a long time. He had to keep it in his mind that it would be the last time he was able to kiss her, as well.

"Oh, yes," she said lightly, bizarrely amused by the ridiculousness of her whole situation.

"I may not have had a great deal of experience in being human, and my intuition may be incorrect, but as far as I can tell, Glaucon has been rather excessively careful in the way that he alludes to our relationship in a way that makes me suspect it is not entirely purely goddess-and-worshiper, and Wesley largely refuses to speak of the nature of our relationship at all, but has said enough for me to guess that there was a particular sort of affection present."

The Doctor nodded, slowly, then took a step back. Pushed back his own emotions. Repressed, as he was rather good at doing, especially in recent years.

"Oh, well, you've come to know them better than I have, I'm afraid. Their opinions of you are unknown to me."

Illyria frowned, not having intended to push him away.

"I did not mean... it's not that I find it purely amusing, or that I don't return your affections. I like you, but I don't... I don't know if I normally do, or if whatever I may feel now is only going to go away, or whether or not I'm accidentally hurting either of the other two who won't even tell me for certain if my intuitions are correct."

She sounded a little frustrated at that, at her own lack of enough information to even allow herself to choose as she pleased.

He shook his head, "It's not...I just...I'm not human. I don't have the luxury of a timespan. I have forever and that means...I don't..."

He made a brief gesture between them, then looked back up at her face, to her eyes. They were brown, and clear. None of the haze that Illyria brought, none of the millenia of depth. All the same, they were still lovely.

"No matter...how much I might...want to."

That was as close to a declaration of feelings as the Doctor was possibly capable of.

She nodded, slowly, stung more than a bit, but not so much by his words as by the truth of them, and the impossible choice she was faced with.

"I know. And that first part wouldn't be a problem, because any moment you're going to find the object that returns my memories and makes me a goddess again, and then I have forever, too."

She blinked at a sudden sting in her eyes, quite certain that she would never forgive herself later if she allowed it to be anything more than that.

"But then I won't be me. Not this me. I'll be her, and as far as I can tell she doesn't even have feelings, much less act upon them."

The Doctor smiled. It was a small, rueful smile, but a smile nonetheless.

He won't love you.

If he isn't you, I don't want him to.

He remembered the terror that John felt, and how he knew the Doctor wouldn't love Joan, and how he knew the Doctor couldn't love Joan, and so he didn't want to lose that.

"You're afraid," he said, "That you're going to die. This you that you've discovered. I understand."

Another move of intimacy, this one to bring her into a hug.

She hugged him in return, certain the other her wouldn't have, and equally certain she didn't care. There was a certain fierceness to the action, as though she were doing it in defiance of the other her's wishes almost as much as for the comfort that it offered.

"I don't want to be her," she admitted, quietly. "I've only just gotten to be me."

"Shhh," he cooed, pressing a kiss to her hair, "When you're her, you'll love it. I promise. And she's...she's wonderful, in her own way."

He pulled back just enough to smile down at her.

"You are wonderful."

She took a deep breath and nodded, collecting herself and releasing him from the hug before she did anything ridiculous like cry. She'd hate herself for that later, and she hated the other her a little bit for giving her that much knowledge, now. For stifling bits and pieces of her humanity even while she still possessed it.

"Thank you for thinking so," she replied, with a sad but appreciative smile. It wasn't enough, anything else she could've said.

So she didn't, and instead kissed him, much in the same manner he'd kissed her earlier: soft and chaste and quickly, but kindly, because she knew she was certain to be unkind later and didn't want that to be the only way he ever thought of her.

Suddenly she kissed him, in the same chaste manner. Before she could pull away, he pulled her to him and returned the kiss more solidly, more passionately.

He raised one hand to cup her cheek and imagined, just for a minute, that he could kiss Illyria like this when she was herself. Like she'd allow him to kiss her lovingly.

And this time she was surprised, but recovered quickly enough to return the kiss with enough proper emotion that she suspected the other her wouldn't be at all appreciative later.

But for the moment, the other her could go hang, because she was damn well going to kiss the Doctor how she wanted to and deal with the consequences of it later.

He got lost in the moment, he decided.

He must've got lost in the imaginings that she was more than a confused human. That had to be it. His other hand rested at her hip, and he deepened the kiss ever-so-slightly and---

He broke apart from the kiss, but stayed close to her.

"I-I'm sorry, I-I..."

She shook her head, suddenly faintly embarrassed but not allowing him to apologize for something she'd wanted just as much.

"Don't apologize to me. If you've offended anyone, it isn't me, and I ought to apologize now for whatever unkind things I'll say to you when I'm not human any more."

He nodded, then gently laid his forehead against hers.

"I-I've never..."

It was frustrating, feeling so strongly about her, and longing to kiss her again, but she wasn't really Illyria, and developing feelings with this woman was so unfair.

But it was too late.

"Never kissed the other me?" she finished, with a wry half-smile.

"I cannot imagine why anyone would want to, though I don't mean to suggest there is anything wrong with your judgment."

"No, no, I've wanted..."

He brushed his fingertips across her cheekbone. It was a gentle, almost feather-like touch, as if he touched her lightly then the inner woman who did not desire him back would not be able to feel it.

He kissed her again, quickly. Briefly, letting his mouth linger on hers. One time, he promised himself. One time, and he couldn't even stick to that.

He was so kind, and so careful, and yet she thought with just the tiniest push all that caution could be thrown to the wind. It would be easy, she thought, to keep kissing him. Certainly she wished to, and she had a feeling she was very used to acting upon what she wished.

And that's what stopped her. That's what finally made her pull away, regretfully, pressing too-gentle fingers to his lips in a shushing gesture as she did.

"I can't-- this is unfair to you," she said, with a small sigh, and let her hand fall as she took a step back, placing the smallest bit of distance between them before she could change her mind.

"What I want is irrelevant, I think, because I have no idea what I'll want when I am my usual self again, and I would not want you to suffer for my mistakes. I cannot think that I will take pleasure in causing you any undue pain, even then. From all accounts, I was at least a reasonably fair sort of goddess."

The Doctor pulled away further. Right. He knew what was right. It was wrong for him to even think that...it was wrong. He knew better. What was he thinking?

"You're just a being," the Doctor said, "Not a goddess. Not to me. Just a person. Far from ordinary, but, well, I don't find people to be ordinary in general."

"I'm sure your thinking so will offend the me who would rather be seen as a goddess, but I appreciate your thinking so, now," she said, with a rueful smile.

"I don't think she... I, I don't think either version of me has gotten much chance to just be a person."

The Doctor nodded, "People don't see past what they want to see. A goddess, not an insecure person in a world she doesn't understand. You and I have a lot in common, and I don't think that she---the you that you normally are---would understand that."

He offered her a small smile. "Well, at least I told you. Gets it off the chest and all that. Someone to confide in."

"Will I remember it later?" she asked, suddenly worried for whatever the answer might be.

"Any of this, I mean. This conversation, things you said, things I felt... will all that just be lost, or will I remember it even if I'm not really this me any more?"

RP for perfectblue

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