Imagine the Doctor

You had been traveling with the Doctor for a long time, and you had, more than once, considered leaving. But it was never a serious consideration. You never actually believed that you would quit. Sometimes you got frustrated or depressed or even injured, yes, and those multiple occasions of nearly dying had really set you off, but you had never thought that you would actually leave.

Until the Doctor regenerated, that is.

You had met all of the Doctors up to this point, thanks to timelines crossing and meddling Time Lords and a whole lot of other temporal quackery that would never make sense to anyone except for a Time Lord. It was Four who you had traveled with first, though, and then Five after that, and after you accepted that all of the Doctor were the same man, you decided that you were quite fond of all of him. Quirks and all.

Fondness very quickly evolved into something much stronger. It was there with Four, most definitely, but when Four became Five, if got much more difficult to ignore. Maybe it was Five’s youth that made him seem less untouchable, more available, but you kept reminding yourself that the Doctor was the Doctor no matter what he looked like. He was a centuries-old genius alien and just because he was willing to be your friend and show you the universe did not mean that he would ever actually lower himself to… to stronger feelings. Especially not towards you. No, certainly not. He could have his pick of anyone he wanted in the universe, if he wanted anybody (which Five didn't seem to, but that was that, wasn't it?). You knew it, too. But that was… okay. No, it wasn’t ideal, and if you could have your wish, it would be very different, but it was still okay. So, you loved him. Alright. A lot of his companions loved him, but they didn’t love him the same way, because they managed to leave him. You could do better than that, for his sake, if not your own. You could love better, or differently, or whatever it took. You could stay. It would hurt your single heart, but you would do it for him, because he needed someone to stay.

When you made that decision, it all seemed very brave and self-sacrificing and noble. Maybe you didn’t think about it that way, simply because you weren’t that arrogant and the Doctor would have found a way to get rid of you long before now if that were the case, but that was how it felt. Sort of. But that was all quite a while ago, and Five was gone. Now it was Six, and you were starting to regret just about every decision you had ever made in your life. Ever.

“I was doing quite alright for myself without your assistance!” the Doctor snapped at you as you dragged him by his lapel into the TARDIS. The door slammed behind you; the TARDIS was angry too, although not at you. "Your interference was completely unnecessary!"

“They were going to have you beheaded,” you deadpanned, letting go of his lapel like it was something slimy. “Regenerate that.”

The man had insulted the king. Not of a country, no. Not of a union, or even a planet, or even a solar system. No, Six had insulted the king of a whole bloody intergalactic empire, and that smug little sass in a Technicolor Dream Coat had the gall to pretend he didn’t think there would be consequences.

The Doctor crossed his arms, his angry expression bordering on a pout, and you had to notice that… well, he was sort of cute. He didn’t have Five’s angelic features or Four’s sharp, wild look, but with that mop of blond curls made a nice frame for a… nice-ish… face. He had pretty eyes, anyway, and a handsome enough smile. Now if you could find a way to burn that coat when he wasn’t looking, maybe he would be fashionably salvageable. Actually, he could keep the coat, if only everything he wore under it was less offensive to your eyes. The striped trousers really needed to be burned. Would it kill the Doctor to regenerate into someone who was willing lower themselves to wear jeans, like the common mortals did?

“I had everything well in hand,” he said, chin up and lips firmly pursed. He was all puffed up like a bullfrog. An angrily blushing bullfrog with really nice pouty lips. His cheeks were red and his curls quivered with rage.

That shouldn't be cute.

“Uh-huh.” You didn’t want to argue. You wanted to remind him that he wasn’t actually immortal, that there were consequences, that he couldn’t run around acting like the rules didn’t apply to him, that it was possible for him to die and not regenerate, but you didn’t say any of those things. Because you didn’t want to argue.

Bossy, you thought, trying and failing to reconcile the man in front of you with the Doctor you had come to know. Rude. Controlling. Arrogant. Impatient. Irritable. Insensitive.

The Doctor could be all of those things. You knew that. But never before Six had he been all of them at once. How had he become this? Where was the Doctor you knew, hiding underneath all that bluster and bad dress sense? You knew it was still him, but… you were having such a hard time seeing it. Where was he? Where was the kind stranger who had taken you in when you were lost and alone? Where was the explorer who was so full of wonder when he showed you the stars? Where was the gentleman who called you beautiful and taught you how to dance? Where was the sweet boy who convinced you to play cricket with him even though you swore you wouldn't?

The Doctor was glaring back at you as you examined him, but some of the fight went out of him when he saw your eyes soften. What did you see when you looked at him? He had to wonder. What were you thinking right now? Ever since he had regenerated, you had stopped talking to him about how you felt. You stopped saying 'I think’ and 'I feel like’ and 'Do you ever..?’ Six knew that he wasn’t as approachable as his previous bodies (even One, who was a real grump at times [almost all of the time], had been friendly enough in his own way). Was that why you hardly talked to him anymore? He was trying to catch your attention, but it seemed like all he could ever do now was make you angry or hurt your feelings. It was like you had regenerated along with him, and not for the better. But now… you were looking at him… almost like you used to, with such a soft expression and that almost-smile that had made Four grin and Five feel bashful and Six… well, it just made Six miss how things used to be.

You looked away when you felt your eyes start to sting. The truth of the matter was that you had been scared for Six. You almost hadn’t managed to save him. He was very nearly beheaded, and he was acting like- like-

Like you hadn’t come so close to losing him.

“Just….” You sighed heavily. “Just don’t scare me like that again, okay?”

“Scare you? Scare you? May I remind you that I was the one who nearly-”

You snapped.

“Shut up! Just shut up!” The burning in your eyes pushed tears up and over, spilling hotly as the Doctor recoiled from you. "I nearly lost you, Doctor! I thought that I lost you! Do you have any idea what that feels like? I turned a corner and you were gone and I thought you were dead and I’ve never been so scared in all my life! I can’t lose you, do you understand? I can’t handle that! You could have died and you would have been gone and I never would have forgiven myself and I- I-"

I love you, you git, even like this. No, there's no 'even' about it. I love you and that is all. That is everything. Why can’t you see?

The Doctor blinked in confusion, taken aback by your outburst. You had never shouted at him before, not like this. "You…”

You wiped the tears from your face, breathing deeply to calm the onset of pathetic sniffles that always came with crying. You didn’t want to cry in front of the Doctor - not this Doctor. He wouldn’t understand. Four might have told you to cheer up and Five might have said “brave heart, my dear,” but Six? You couldn’t quite imagine. He would probably tell you to get a thicker skin and stop sniveling, the prat.

"I..." His eloquence had fallen away in the face of your anger... and your tears. Oh, he couldn't stand this. He couldn't stand to see you crying; none of his bodies ever could. You had known One for all of five hours and he had been immediately enamored with you, quick as lightning to offer comfort and a neckerchief when you were upset. Six didn't stand a chance. "I didn't know that you..."

“Cared?” you finished for him, getting angry again. “Doctor, after all we’ve been through, you don’t think I’d be completely devastated if I lost you?”

The Doctor cringed. He hadn’t known, no. He had thought you were like the rest of his companions, and that you would eventually want to go home and probably never see him again. It would be beyond the best of hopes that you would stay. He had fantasized that it might be otherwise, but he had never thought that there was any truth to it. And the hopes that he had had when he was Four all went down the drain when he became Five and all of his aggression and drive and passion got tucked under the bed for the sake of being polite and sensitive, because poor widdle Fivey couldn’t handle anything. And he hated it.

“You know I met a future version of you?” you asked, seemingly out of the blue. The anger was still there, simmering, demanding that you speak all the words that you had been holding in.

The Doctor balked. “What? When did this happen?”

“Almost a year ago. You were out in London trying to track down the source of that mauve alert and another you came running in here, thinking it was his own TARDIS. You told me I was practically a baby.” You snorted. "I guess that means we're sticking together, eh?"

“Why didn’t you say…?” the Doctor trailed off, because, now that he was thinking about how little you had been saying to him lately, and how little he knew, it wasn’t half as much of a surprise as it should have been that he hadn't known about this.

“What would I have said? You ran in, chattered a mile a minute, realized that you were in the wrong TARDIS, and ran out.”

No, the Doctor thought. You were lying. Well, maybe not lying, but omitting information, at least. Something else happened. He could tell.

“What really happened?” he demanded, puffing up again.

Your lips tightened. “What I said.”

“There’s more to it than that; I know there is. Don't you lie to me.”

“That’s none of your business.”

“Oh, no?”

Yes. No. I don’t know, Doctor. I really don't. Do you even want it to be?

You were dying to find out if this Doctor kissed as well as the future one did. You wanted to know if his lips were as soft as they looked, or his hands as strong. More than that, you wanted to know if he cared anymore. You weren’t sure.

“No,” you said. “No.”

It doesn't matter if he kisses well. Future him? Kissed like a dream, made me see stars, but nobody kisses that well unless they've kissed a lot. Practice makes perfect, remember? Who had he been doing all of that practicing with? Hmph. Not with you, that was for sure.

It didn’t matter. The Doctor kept telling you that you couldn’t rewrite time, but he was always doing it, wasn’t he? So, it didn’t matter. What happened wouldn’t happen at all. The Doctor had kissed you, but he would never do it. If you never told him, then he wouldn't have the knowledge to create a paradox, would he? So, it didn't matter.

You were too tired to think about it.

"Tell me..." the Doctor began, and you prepared yourself for another ham-fisted attempt to extract information, but then he said, "what you want from me."

You looked at him, brow drawing tight in confusion. "What?"

"What do you want from me?" His hand twitched to grab yours, but you were out of reach. "I cannot say I know how you feel, but I know how I feel. You have stayed with me for longer than any other companion has dared and you have done so with the most exemplary courage."

It was probably the most honest thing he had said to you without being rude for awhile. You didn't know if you were relieved or horrified that he had asked.

"I want you to stay," the Doctor continued, "but I cannot force you."

"I didn't go anywhere," you told him, trying and failing to use the tone of your voice to soften the accusation made plain by your words. "But it's not your fault. I haven't given you a chance."

"No, you have not. And it wasn't as if I wanted to regenerate, but I am the Doctor, whether you like it or not," he snapped, but the bravado of the statement didn't stay with him. His posture fell again, as did his expression. There was something there, flickering in his eyes and the unhappy twist of his mouth, that made you think of Five. "It was for Peri. Was it wrong of me, to die for Peri?"

"No." You shook your head. Oh, poor Peri. She had left, finding the new Doctor intolerable. She wasn't used to regeneration, not like you were, and she didn't have the patience. Or the love. She liked the Doctor very much, and if you hadn't been there to assure her that you would take care of him, she might not have left. She might have stayed, to watch over him. But she didn't get the chance to learn to love him, and there was nothing that demanded that she stay. And that was the real clincher, wasn't it? It would have been easy for you to be like Peri and leave, if only you didn't love the Doctor. But you did love him, so you stayed, and you were patient beyond belief. "I'm proud of you for doing that, Doctor. I'm so proud of you."

His mouth quirked into a smile for less than a second at your confession of pride in his actions, but there was still a serious conversation at hand: "Then, what?"

Then what, what? Oh. He was asking you what you wanted. You weren't sure what that meant, but...

"The other you said..." You grimaced. "He said..."

The Doctor's hands lifted just slightly, reaching for yours but not daring to make contact. "What did he say?"

You sighed. "He said not to worry, because we'd be brilliant. And then he-"

How were you supposed to say it? You couldn't. He would get mad or something. Or- well, who knew? This Doctor was as fresh and as raw to you as if he had only regenerated yesterday. You didn't know him. You hadn't let yourself get to know him, hadn't given him a chance in the face of his unpleasant new personality, and now you were regretting it, because you didn't know what to do.

"He kissed me," you blurted out, not looking at the Doctor's face for fear of his reaction. "Twice, actually. Called me sweetheart."

The Doctor's breath caught in his throat and his respiratory bypass fluttered uselessly in his chest. But he didn't say a word.

Blast, you thought. All this time of him loving the sound of his own voice, and now he didn't have anything to say? Typical. And now he was probably going to throw you out of the TARDIS, or at least pretend this conversation never happened. But you had just opened Pandora's box. There would be no getting that information back into the privacy of your brain.

Well. In that case.

"Fantastic kisser, by the way," you said. "I mean, really great. Nothing's going to beat that. But, y'know, it was wonderful while it lasted. Something you get to look forward to, right?"

The Doctor just stared.

"It doesn't matter." Sure, your heart was stretching with the effort of taking on all this pain and humiliation, but it didn't matter. "I'll, um... I'll just... do something-"

"No," said the Doctor, soft and slow, "no. Don't run. Stay here."

"Forget it," you said over your shoulder, because you were already halfway across the room, ready to escape into the TARDIS's halls, ready to escape from him and whatever he was about to say and–

But the Doctor moved too, and he grabbed your hand, pulling you back to him. You yanked your hand away immediately, humiliation turning into painful, searing anger.

"You don't get to do this," you hissed. "You pushed and I answered you and now you don't get to do this. Leave me alone."

There was fire in your eyes and the Doctor was in awe.

"I can't," the Doctor told you, still soft, still slow, with a sinking gravity that took the very air between you and pulled. "I can't do that."

"And why the hell not?"

He reached for you again and you were too heavy and too tired to pull away this time. His fingers brushed over your cheek to wipe away tears, so sweet and gentle– so like he used to be– that all the anger crumpled within you even while your eyes still stung.

"Because I'm going to kiss you," he said, cupping your face in his hands, "and we're going to be brilliant."