Doctor Who Fic: Not Quite As Planned - Chapter 22
Time for another update. Many thanks to sensiblecat for the Brit-picks and all of her help in polishing this thing up.
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"What set you off this time, or do I really need to ask?"
The Doctor procrastinated by raising the mug to his lips and sipping carefully at the scalding liquid. Donna's cups of tea were always just the way he liked them somehow, as if she knew instinctively what his desires were at any particular time. And like her kitchen, and the hug that had come beforehand, the tea warmed him all the way to the bottom of his soul.
When he lowered the mug, he couldn't help but see that her blue-green eyes were filled with more patience than he knew he deserved. "Weell," he began lamely, having an idea of what she was thinking, "Rose certainly didn't help matters much, I'll admit…"
"I thought as much. You were white as a sheet, and yet looked as if you were ready to tear something apart when you got back from your 'talk' with her. Maybe a better question is what brought you here, now?"
"Isn't that enough?" he shot back. Leave it to Donna not to just accept things as they were, but need to dissect his every motive.
"Normally, yes. But the way you're avoiding the question tells me that she isn't the reason you're here. So… what happened?" Finally she lifted her own mug, but never did her eyes leave his face.
He took a long, deep breath. "No, it isn't. I… did manage to get back to my flat and relax enough to try to sleep. It's just…" He sighed again and wiped his face with an open hand. "This is going to sound amazingly childish…" he muttered.
"What?" Donna stretched out her hand towards him, and he was more than happy to take it again. "You can tell me anything, you know."
"Nightmares." There. It was out, his one true vulnerability. Normally he just dealt with them by getting up and finding something to occupy his mind for the time it took to hopefully still the dreams so he could sleep again. But there were times that the dreams simply wouldn't cooperate, dreams of things that could consume him in anger and fear and bitterness and grief. Dreams of the Time War, and now dreams of a single Dalek - with Donna's life in the balance.
"Nightmares," she repeated, and he flinched. He just knew that he should be able to handle them better, but… "About that Dalek-thingee?" He nodded. "Okay. I suppose I could understand that too. Do you want to tell me about it?"
He blinked at her, surprised. In the other Doctor's memories of her, Donna had always been quite understanding during those instances when his screaming as he awoke ruined her sleep. Part of the Doctor's fondness for her was founded in his awe and appreciation of her endless capacity for compassion. If he'd not already figured out that he was in love with her, discovering that this Donna was equally endowed would have clinched the matter.
Still, she'd asked him the question. Did he want to tell her what scared him the most in this latest iteration of an old, familiar terror? "Before… in the other universe… when Rose and I were in Van Statton's museum and the Dalek woke up…"
"It woke up?" She looked both startled and alarmed. "It wasn't dead, like this one?"
"I can't tell for certain if this one is really dead, Donna. But anyway, before, in the other universe… the Dalek had said nothing to the people at Van Statton's museum. Van Statton had ordered his people to try to drill their way through the casing, and that made it scream. It had broadcast a call for help and I'd come in answer to that call, but that was it. But after that Dalek woke up, things got a bit… chaotic. Rose and I were separated, and she ended up trapped in with the Dalek. I…" Even now, the thought of what had happened could still turn his blood cold. "I had to shut her in with the Dalek to save the lives of everyone else at the facility when she didn't run fast enough to make it through the doors in time."
"Oh my!" Donna's hand tightened slightly on his. "That's pretty frightening. Is that what you dreamed…"
He shook his head. "No. My nightmare tonight wasn't about the Dalek with Rose." He gazed deeply into her eyes. "It was about you."
"Me?" Her eyes were wide.
"I can't lose you," he explained in a very tiny voice, looking down into his mug of tea so that he wouldn't see her rejection of what he was saying. After all, she had to know now that he was too broken, too different, to really be a good match for her. "And no matter how many times I tried to dream of something else, I kept coming back to that damned Dalek somehow hurting you, or kill…" He dropped his face into his hand, unable to continue.
"Hey!" He felt movement, and then looked up in surprise when he felt Donna's hand land on his knee. She had come around the corner of the table and crouched down next to him. "I'm here. I'm still here. I'm okay." Her voice was soft and tender, and her hand shifted from his knee to his face. "The Dalek isn't anywhere near here."
"I know that," he said with yet another sigh. "But my mind can't help worrying…" He gazed at her sadly. "You are such a treasure, you are. You deserve so much better than someone like me…"
"Now you can stop right there, mister," she said firmly, now encasing his face with both hands. "It's up to me to decide who or what I deserve, isn't it? I happen to be fairly content with my lot at the moment, and that lot happens to include you. So no more of that, do you hear?"
"I lo…" he started and then snapped his mouth shut. No. This wasn't the time to pour out his heart, or to lay his entire future in her hands by professing his affection. It was late, and they both had to be ready to be at work in the morning; and he wanted both of them to be in a much better frame of mind when he finally did confess his feelings to her. "I'm so tired," he finished, knowing that even she couldn't help but notice the abrupt change from what he'd started to say.
And yet, she merely nodded. "I know, I know. Listen, finish your tea, and you can take the guest room again."
"What if I dream…"
"I'll be right in the next room. If I hear you having trouble, I'll come in and wake you up."
For the first time that night, he let himself begin to believe that maybe he'd be able to get some rest. Even if she was a room apart, she'd still be guarding his dreams. He leaned forward, even with her hands still holding his face, and dropped a kiss on her forehead. "I meant what I said earlier: you're a treasure. Don't ever let anybody try to convince you otherwise."
A soft smile illuminated her visage. "I think I'm going to have to make a concerted effort to convince you of the same thing, because you have this odd idea that you're not worthy. Trust me when I tell you that you are." Her thumbs stroked his cheekbones before her hands withdrew as she regained her feet. "Now finish your tea."
"Thank you.
"You're welcome, Ian. Anytime."
oOoOo
She had only had her little girl for two months - nine and a half weeks, actually - and still, in that time, Donna had developed the ability to hear the baby fussing all the way across the flat. Shaun's job had required that he rest undisturbed, and so she'd developed that almost eerie sixth sense about when Sandra was beginning to rouse for her late night feeding.
That same sense now roused her to the very soft sounds of whimpers. She rolled over with a frustrated groan of her own and listened more deliberately. Now she could hear the sound of movement accompanied by the whimpers. At last she awakened enough to remember that she had a guest, and a guest who had admitted to having trouble with bad dreams at that.
Once more she shifted her legs to put her bare feet on the floor and drew on her robe, but she didn't turn on her bedside lamp. There was enough light pouring in from the nearby streetlamp to see her bedroom door, and to illuminate the guest room when she got there.
Ian was definitely dreaming, and struggling in that dream. The duvet had already slipped to the floor in a heap, and he seemed to be wrestling with the sheets while making sounds that alternated between soft cries of grief and almost anger. He lay on his back, with his arms occasionally windmilling futilely in the air over his chest.
Donna considered how she was going to awaken him. She'd have to be careful; it looked as if he were striking out at something when his arms flailed, and she could get hit. Still, she had to try something.
She waited until the nearest arm flew upwards again and then captured it, moving in closer then to shake the shoulder attached to the captured arm. "Ian! Wake up! You're dreaming again!"
Even in the muted light of the streetlamp, she could see his face crumple into an expression of horror and fear at the sound of her voice. His whole body heaved, and he loosed a desperate, "No! DOOONNNNNNNAA!!"
She moved around the arm she'd caught and sat down on the edge of the bed, laying her left hand against his face and leaning close, hoping that the reality of her touch would reach him in the depths of his nightmare. "Ian! I'm here! I'm safe!" When even that didn't seem to affect him, she remembered what Mr. Tyler had been forced to do just that morning. "Doctor! I'm here!"
With a violent jerk, his eyes sprang open and took only a very short moment to focus tightly on her face in the dim light. "Donna?" he asked in a voice that told her just how fearful he was that this was the dream, and the nightmare the reality.
"I'm here, Ian. I'm safe. I'm fine…"
His hand broke from her keeping and, combined with its twin, quickly gathered her into a tight hug. "Oh, Donna!" he sighed brokenly over and over again.
"Shhhhhh…" Donna worked her hands out from being trapped between their bodies by the steel grip he had on her and hugged him back about the shoulders. "It's all right. You're here, with me."
"I thought I'd lost you."
"Shhhhhh…" She nestled her nose into his neck. "I'm right here."
"I can't lose you now. I can't!" With that, one arm loosened just enough that he could turn her face up so that he could kiss her, passion and desperation making the kiss anything but innocent or chaste. Carried away by the immediacy and urgency, Donna kissed him back, parting her lips and allowing him access the moment his tongue begged entrance. She moaned as he sought out all the hidden places within, places that made her heart begin to beat harder and faster the moment he discovered them.
Suddenly he rolled, his arms tight around her carrying her up and over his body to land on her back on the bed next to him. "My Donna," he murmured, finally lifting his lips from her and trailing fiery kisses down her jawline to her throat. "Mine." The hand not trapped beneath her was no longer idle, but had begun to wander down her side, his touch through the thin fabric of her robe delicate and gentle as he reached the curve of her hip and then began a return journey.
Donna trembled beneath his determined onslaught of kisses and caresses. She knew that if she allowed him to continue, Ian would no doubt prove to be both a generous and passionate lover. What was more, a part of her wanted him almost as badly as he obviously did her. It had been a very long time since she'd been with a man that she actually cared for, perhaps even loved a little. This, at least for her, would be making love for a change, and not merely comfort sex with a stranger.
But he was her boss, her work companion and best friend in the world. And the portion of her mind not completely engaged in what he was doing realized that this was not the way either of them would want this to happen. Knowing Ian, he would be mortified in the morning, intensely guilty about having taken advantage of her, and right now he really didn't need that at all.
"Ian…" She wasn't allowed to do more than say his name before he was kissing her again, deeply, passionately, his free hand trailing up her throat to gently play with the shell of her ear. "Ian, we have to stop," she said finally once his lips had moved to her cheek.
"I don't want to stop," he muttered. He took the lobe of her ear between gentle teeth and then growled in a low and seductive tone, "I want you." Against her thigh she could feel the growing presence of his arousal.
Her ears were one of her favorite erogenous zones, and so forcing herself to speak around tremors of aching want beginning to boil within her was difficult; but she managed. "I know you don't want to stop. Neither do I, but we have to. Please."
Ian's head fell back into his pillow and he was very still for a long moment. Donna could tell the instant that he came out of his nightmare-induced fog of passion, because he stiffened and shifted his lower body away from her. "Oh, Donna, I'm so sorry…"
"Don't be." She deliberately modulated her voice so that there was no sign of rejection. "I told you I didn't want to stop either. But…"
"But we shouldn't…" he finished for her sadly.
"Hey!" She reached out and stroked his arm as he lay facing her. "This isn't about should or shouldn't. But we need to talk first, before we let this… whatever this is… go any further."
"I should go…" he muttered and started to sit up.
She grabbed him and pulled him back down. "Don't you dare! It's late, you need your rest, and we're okay in spite of this - aren't we?"
"Are we?" he asked hesitantly. "I've given you bruises, assaulted you in your own bed… weeelll… my bed… weeelll… your guest room. I'm ten times worse than that jerk at the bar…"
"No you're not; you're nothing like him. Nothing has happened here that I didn't want - or at least a part of me wanted - and you stopped when I asked you to. Besides, I've already told you to stop worrying about my wrist. As far as I'm concerned, we're fine. We definitely need to talk, and soon, but we're fine. Agreed?"
Ian took a deep breath, held it, and then exhaled slowly. "Agreed." His hold on her evaporated, and he even extracted his one arm from beneath her. "Thank you for saving me from my nightmare."
"You're entirely welcome," she replied and, sitting halfway up, began to shift herself towards the far edge of the bed.
"Don't go, please," he whispered, catching hold of the fabric of her robe. "Donna, please, stay."
"I don't think…"
"I'll behave, I promise. I just…" He hesitated, and she waited to see what it was he wanted to say. "Maybe, if you're here with me, my mind won't trick me into believing that you've been taken away from me. Maybe I'll actually sleep. I don't want to wake you up again, drag you out of your bed…" He let go of her robe, his hand dropping away. "Please…"
Donna considered. His nightmares were clearly horrifying and all too persistent. He was never going to get any decent rest, at the rate he was going. And, if he kept his word and his hands to himself, nobody would ever be the wiser that they had shared a bed. "All right," she agreed finally, settling back down into the second pillow. "I'll stay."
Ian rolled until he too had settled onto his back, and all was quiet between them for a while. Then, with a half-roll, he moved toward her again. "May I hold you, please?"
"Ian…"
"Just… to hold you, and nothing else. If I have you in my arms, it will be hard for me to believe that you've been taken away or…"
It was dangerous. If she touched him, if she allowed him to touch and hold her, it would very difficult to put the brakes on if things heated up between them again. Then again, he was asking permission, and a man with an agenda rarely ever did. "You promise to keep your hands…?"
"Away from… places I shouldn't touch without permission. I promise."
He threw the duvet back, and she slowly slipped beneath the covers until he could gather her close again, turning into him so she could rest her head on his shoulder and cast an arm over him. "All right?" she whispered.
She felt him pull the duvet over her before dropping a delicate kiss on the top of her head. "Very all right," he whispered back, his arm coming to rest on her upper arm. "Thank you. Goodnight."
"Sleep well," she whispered. She could feel him slowly relaxing beneath her, and after a while his breathing evened out in slumber. Although she really had little intention of it, it didn't take long for her to follow him.
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"What set you off this time, or do I really need to ask?"
The Doctor procrastinated by raising the mug to his lips and sipping carefully at the scalding liquid. Donna's cups of tea were always just the way he liked them somehow, as if she knew instinctively what his desires were at any particular time. And like her kitchen, and the hug that had come beforehand, the tea warmed him all the way to the bottom of his soul.
When he lowered the mug, he couldn't help but see that her blue-green eyes were filled with more patience than he knew he deserved. "Weell," he began lamely, having an idea of what she was thinking, "Rose certainly didn't help matters much, I'll admit…"
"I thought as much. You were white as a sheet, and yet looked as if you were ready to tear something apart when you got back from your 'talk' with her. Maybe a better question is what brought you here, now?"
"Isn't that enough?" he shot back. Leave it to Donna not to just accept things as they were, but need to dissect his every motive.
"Normally, yes. But the way you're avoiding the question tells me that she isn't the reason you're here. So… what happened?" Finally she lifted her own mug, but never did her eyes leave his face.
He took a long, deep breath. "No, it isn't. I… did manage to get back to my flat and relax enough to try to sleep. It's just…" He sighed again and wiped his face with an open hand. "This is going to sound amazingly childish…" he muttered.
"What?" Donna stretched out her hand towards him, and he was more than happy to take it again. "You can tell me anything, you know."
"Nightmares." There. It was out, his one true vulnerability. Normally he just dealt with them by getting up and finding something to occupy his mind for the time it took to hopefully still the dreams so he could sleep again. But there were times that the dreams simply wouldn't cooperate, dreams of things that could consume him in anger and fear and bitterness and grief. Dreams of the Time War, and now dreams of a single Dalek - with Donna's life in the balance.
"Nightmares," she repeated, and he flinched. He just knew that he should be able to handle them better, but… "About that Dalek-thingee?" He nodded. "Okay. I suppose I could understand that too. Do you want to tell me about it?"
He blinked at her, surprised. In the other Doctor's memories of her, Donna had always been quite understanding during those instances when his screaming as he awoke ruined her sleep. Part of the Doctor's fondness for her was founded in his awe and appreciation of her endless capacity for compassion. If he'd not already figured out that he was in love with her, discovering that this Donna was equally endowed would have clinched the matter.
Still, she'd asked him the question. Did he want to tell her what scared him the most in this latest iteration of an old, familiar terror? "Before… in the other universe… when Rose and I were in Van Statton's museum and the Dalek woke up…"
"It woke up?" She looked both startled and alarmed. "It wasn't dead, like this one?"
"I can't tell for certain if this one is really dead, Donna. But anyway, before, in the other universe… the Dalek had said nothing to the people at Van Statton's museum. Van Statton had ordered his people to try to drill their way through the casing, and that made it scream. It had broadcast a call for help and I'd come in answer to that call, but that was it. But after that Dalek woke up, things got a bit… chaotic. Rose and I were separated, and she ended up trapped in with the Dalek. I…" Even now, the thought of what had happened could still turn his blood cold. "I had to shut her in with the Dalek to save the lives of everyone else at the facility when she didn't run fast enough to make it through the doors in time."
"Oh my!" Donna's hand tightened slightly on his. "That's pretty frightening. Is that what you dreamed…"
He shook his head. "No. My nightmare tonight wasn't about the Dalek with Rose." He gazed deeply into her eyes. "It was about you."
"Me?" Her eyes were wide.
"I can't lose you," he explained in a very tiny voice, looking down into his mug of tea so that he wouldn't see her rejection of what he was saying. After all, she had to know now that he was too broken, too different, to really be a good match for her. "And no matter how many times I tried to dream of something else, I kept coming back to that damned Dalek somehow hurting you, or kill…" He dropped his face into his hand, unable to continue.
"Hey!" He felt movement, and then looked up in surprise when he felt Donna's hand land on his knee. She had come around the corner of the table and crouched down next to him. "I'm here. I'm still here. I'm okay." Her voice was soft and tender, and her hand shifted from his knee to his face. "The Dalek isn't anywhere near here."
"I know that," he said with yet another sigh. "But my mind can't help worrying…" He gazed at her sadly. "You are such a treasure, you are. You deserve so much better than someone like me…"
"Now you can stop right there, mister," she said firmly, now encasing his face with both hands. "It's up to me to decide who or what I deserve, isn't it? I happen to be fairly content with my lot at the moment, and that lot happens to include you. So no more of that, do you hear?"
"I lo…" he started and then snapped his mouth shut. No. This wasn't the time to pour out his heart, or to lay his entire future in her hands by professing his affection. It was late, and they both had to be ready to be at work in the morning; and he wanted both of them to be in a much better frame of mind when he finally did confess his feelings to her. "I'm so tired," he finished, knowing that even she couldn't help but notice the abrupt change from what he'd started to say.
And yet, she merely nodded. "I know, I know. Listen, finish your tea, and you can take the guest room again."
"What if I dream…"
"I'll be right in the next room. If I hear you having trouble, I'll come in and wake you up."
For the first time that night, he let himself begin to believe that maybe he'd be able to get some rest. Even if she was a room apart, she'd still be guarding his dreams. He leaned forward, even with her hands still holding his face, and dropped a kiss on her forehead. "I meant what I said earlier: you're a treasure. Don't ever let anybody try to convince you otherwise."
A soft smile illuminated her visage. "I think I'm going to have to make a concerted effort to convince you of the same thing, because you have this odd idea that you're not worthy. Trust me when I tell you that you are." Her thumbs stroked his cheekbones before her hands withdrew as she regained her feet. "Now finish your tea."
"Thank you.
"You're welcome, Ian. Anytime."
oOoOo
She had only had her little girl for two months - nine and a half weeks, actually - and still, in that time, Donna had developed the ability to hear the baby fussing all the way across the flat. Shaun's job had required that he rest undisturbed, and so she'd developed that almost eerie sixth sense about when Sandra was beginning to rouse for her late night feeding.
That same sense now roused her to the very soft sounds of whimpers. She rolled over with a frustrated groan of her own and listened more deliberately. Now she could hear the sound of movement accompanied by the whimpers. At last she awakened enough to remember that she had a guest, and a guest who had admitted to having trouble with bad dreams at that.
Once more she shifted her legs to put her bare feet on the floor and drew on her robe, but she didn't turn on her bedside lamp. There was enough light pouring in from the nearby streetlamp to see her bedroom door, and to illuminate the guest room when she got there.
Ian was definitely dreaming, and struggling in that dream. The duvet had already slipped to the floor in a heap, and he seemed to be wrestling with the sheets while making sounds that alternated between soft cries of grief and almost anger. He lay on his back, with his arms occasionally windmilling futilely in the air over his chest.
Donna considered how she was going to awaken him. She'd have to be careful; it looked as if he were striking out at something when his arms flailed, and she could get hit. Still, she had to try something.
She waited until the nearest arm flew upwards again and then captured it, moving in closer then to shake the shoulder attached to the captured arm. "Ian! Wake up! You're dreaming again!"
Even in the muted light of the streetlamp, she could see his face crumple into an expression of horror and fear at the sound of her voice. His whole body heaved, and he loosed a desperate, "No! DOOONNNNNNNAA!!"
She moved around the arm she'd caught and sat down on the edge of the bed, laying her left hand against his face and leaning close, hoping that the reality of her touch would reach him in the depths of his nightmare. "Ian! I'm here! I'm safe!" When even that didn't seem to affect him, she remembered what Mr. Tyler had been forced to do just that morning. "Doctor! I'm here!"
With a violent jerk, his eyes sprang open and took only a very short moment to focus tightly on her face in the dim light. "Donna?" he asked in a voice that told her just how fearful he was that this was the dream, and the nightmare the reality.
"I'm here, Ian. I'm safe. I'm fine…"
His hand broke from her keeping and, combined with its twin, quickly gathered her into a tight hug. "Oh, Donna!" he sighed brokenly over and over again.
"Shhhhhh…" Donna worked her hands out from being trapped between their bodies by the steel grip he had on her and hugged him back about the shoulders. "It's all right. You're here, with me."
"I thought I'd lost you."
"Shhhhhh…" She nestled her nose into his neck. "I'm right here."
"I can't lose you now. I can't!" With that, one arm loosened just enough that he could turn her face up so that he could kiss her, passion and desperation making the kiss anything but innocent or chaste. Carried away by the immediacy and urgency, Donna kissed him back, parting her lips and allowing him access the moment his tongue begged entrance. She moaned as he sought out all the hidden places within, places that made her heart begin to beat harder and faster the moment he discovered them.
Suddenly he rolled, his arms tight around her carrying her up and over his body to land on her back on the bed next to him. "My Donna," he murmured, finally lifting his lips from her and trailing fiery kisses down her jawline to her throat. "Mine." The hand not trapped beneath her was no longer idle, but had begun to wander down her side, his touch through the thin fabric of her robe delicate and gentle as he reached the curve of her hip and then began a return journey.
Donna trembled beneath his determined onslaught of kisses and caresses. She knew that if she allowed him to continue, Ian would no doubt prove to be both a generous and passionate lover. What was more, a part of her wanted him almost as badly as he obviously did her. It had been a very long time since she'd been with a man that she actually cared for, perhaps even loved a little. This, at least for her, would be making love for a change, and not merely comfort sex with a stranger.
But he was her boss, her work companion and best friend in the world. And the portion of her mind not completely engaged in what he was doing realized that this was not the way either of them would want this to happen. Knowing Ian, he would be mortified in the morning, intensely guilty about having taken advantage of her, and right now he really didn't need that at all.
"Ian…" She wasn't allowed to do more than say his name before he was kissing her again, deeply, passionately, his free hand trailing up her throat to gently play with the shell of her ear. "Ian, we have to stop," she said finally once his lips had moved to her cheek.
"I don't want to stop," he muttered. He took the lobe of her ear between gentle teeth and then growled in a low and seductive tone, "I want you." Against her thigh she could feel the growing presence of his arousal.
Her ears were one of her favorite erogenous zones, and so forcing herself to speak around tremors of aching want beginning to boil within her was difficult; but she managed. "I know you don't want to stop. Neither do I, but we have to. Please."
Ian's head fell back into his pillow and he was very still for a long moment. Donna could tell the instant that he came out of his nightmare-induced fog of passion, because he stiffened and shifted his lower body away from her. "Oh, Donna, I'm so sorry…"
"Don't be." She deliberately modulated her voice so that there was no sign of rejection. "I told you I didn't want to stop either. But…"
"But we shouldn't…" he finished for her sadly.
"Hey!" She reached out and stroked his arm as he lay facing her. "This isn't about should or shouldn't. But we need to talk first, before we let this… whatever this is… go any further."
"I should go…" he muttered and started to sit up.
She grabbed him and pulled him back down. "Don't you dare! It's late, you need your rest, and we're okay in spite of this - aren't we?"
"Are we?" he asked hesitantly. "I've given you bruises, assaulted you in your own bed… weeelll… my bed… weeelll… your guest room. I'm ten times worse than that jerk at the bar…"
"No you're not; you're nothing like him. Nothing has happened here that I didn't want - or at least a part of me wanted - and you stopped when I asked you to. Besides, I've already told you to stop worrying about my wrist. As far as I'm concerned, we're fine. We definitely need to talk, and soon, but we're fine. Agreed?"
Ian took a deep breath, held it, and then exhaled slowly. "Agreed." His hold on her evaporated, and he even extracted his one arm from beneath her. "Thank you for saving me from my nightmare."
"You're entirely welcome," she replied and, sitting halfway up, began to shift herself towards the far edge of the bed.
"Don't go, please," he whispered, catching hold of the fabric of her robe. "Donna, please, stay."
"I don't think…"
"I'll behave, I promise. I just…" He hesitated, and she waited to see what it was he wanted to say. "Maybe, if you're here with me, my mind won't trick me into believing that you've been taken away from me. Maybe I'll actually sleep. I don't want to wake you up again, drag you out of your bed…" He let go of her robe, his hand dropping away. "Please…"
Donna considered. His nightmares were clearly horrifying and all too persistent. He was never going to get any decent rest, at the rate he was going. And, if he kept his word and his hands to himself, nobody would ever be the wiser that they had shared a bed. "All right," she agreed finally, settling back down into the second pillow. "I'll stay."
Ian rolled until he too had settled onto his back, and all was quiet between them for a while. Then, with a half-roll, he moved toward her again. "May I hold you, please?"
"Ian…"
"Just… to hold you, and nothing else. If I have you in my arms, it will be hard for me to believe that you've been taken away or…"
It was dangerous. If she touched him, if she allowed him to touch and hold her, it would very difficult to put the brakes on if things heated up between them again. Then again, he was asking permission, and a man with an agenda rarely ever did. "You promise to keep your hands…?"
"Away from… places I shouldn't touch without permission. I promise."
He threw the duvet back, and she slowly slipped beneath the covers until he could gather her close again, turning into him so she could rest her head on his shoulder and cast an arm over him. "All right?" she whispered.
She felt him pull the duvet over her before dropping a delicate kiss on the top of her head. "Very all right," he whispered back, his arm coming to rest on her upper arm. "Thank you. Goodnight."
"Sleep well," she whispered. She could feel him slowly relaxing beneath her, and after a while his breathing evened out in slumber. Although she really had little intention of it, it didn't take long for her to follow him.