Fic: "Sacred Couple" (2/2)
Title: Sacred Couple (2/2)
Pairing: Nine/Rose
Rating: Teens
Warnings: None
Spoilers: None
Beta: larielromeniel, joely_jo, sensiblecat, wendymr, and dark_aegis
Summary: On the planet Tombstone, Rose is stung by an insect and the Doctor is forced to lie about their relationship in order to be permitted to treat her. Unfortunately, the lie leads to much more than he bargained for.
A/N: This was one of those stories that took on a life of its own. This was NOT where I intended it to go. Many hugs and loves to my betas, who held my hand lots and convinced me this wasn't shite. Part 1 can be found here.
"Wife?" Rose repeated, glaring. "How come they think I'm your wife?"
The Doctor almost looked embarrassed. "I had to think of some way to get them to let me stay with you when they were treating you. This seemed like the only option."
"But… wife? That was the best thing your nine-hundred-year-old brain could come up with?"
"It was spur of the moment," he said a bit defensively. "I didn't have time to think it through."
"Obviously."
"Look, I didn't mean for things to get out of hand like this," he said, still sounding defensive but with a note of apology. "It was just… you were in such a bad way, and I wasn't about to leave you, and this was the quickest way I could think of to get them to let me stay with you. I was more worried about getting the anti-venom into you; I had no idea they'd come up with this…Sacred Couple nonsense."
She narrowed her eyes at him, trying to judge his mood, trying to see if he really was sincere. He seemed to be. She sighed. "What are we going to do? And before you start making suggestions, let me just tell you that I really don't want to be in some alien porn movie."
The Doctor frowned. "'Porn movie'?" he repeated.
"Yeah, this whole Sacred Couple thing. Sex on the altar or whatever, right in front of the whole lot of them? Not a chance." She set her jaw, ready to argue it out with him. If he made some comment about a "different morality," she was going to sock him one, no matter how ill she was; it was his fault they were in this predicament in the first place. Twenty-first-century morals or not, if they were going to have sex, it was going to be just the two of them.
"It wouldn't be on the altar, Rose," he said, leaning against the wall, arms crossed. "Didn't you hear the Healer? She said it's all private. Doors are locked and everything. Just you, me, and the statue of the Goddess."
"It is?" That put a different spin on things. Maybe this wasn't so bad after all. She allowed her mind to drift briefly, imagining the two of them on a pile of satin cushions in a richly-appointed room, his mouth on her throat, kissing down…down…down….
"Missed that part, did you? Not surprising, given the rest of the information." His lip curled. "Why is it that humans always want to take something perfectly normal, like sex, and make it into something else? You lot, all through your history, sex is either something to be ashamed of or something to be worshipped." He pushed away from the wall and moved over toward the counter, tidying up the bottles and empty bandage wrappers there. "Anyway, don't worry, we won't be going along with it."
Her daydream vanished abruptly at this return to reality. "Oh. Yeah," she said faintly. She could feel a flush creeping up her cheeks. "Right, yeah. Never thought we actually would-I mean, you don't, do you?"
He glanced up at her. "Don't what?" he asked.
Was he kidding? Well, she wasn't about to tell him he didn't have sex, that was for sure. "Do domestic," she said. "Not your thing, right? Or religion, either, and I definitely can't see you combining the two. Besides, we're not-we don't-I mean, not that I hadn't thought about it-"
Oh bloody hell. Now he was smirking at her. What had made her say that? "We're just friends," she said firmly, her skin burning with embarrassment. "We travel together, that's all. Not like we were ever going to-you know."
His gaze hadn't wavered, and she looked away, mortified. God, what had made her admit she'd fantasised about him? She couldn't wait to get back to the TARDIS now, just so she could lose herself in the ship's miles of hallways, and not have to face him for a while. A day or two. Or a week. Maybe a month-yeah, a month would just about do it.
His hand curled around hers, squeezing gently, reassuringly. She squeezed back, but couldn't quite bring herself to meet his gaze. "Rose," he said, gently. "Look at me."
Reluctantly, she did, and blinked in surprise at the expression in his eyes. She'd seen versions of that expression in the past-in the Cabinet Room at 10 Downing Street (I could save the world, but lose you!), in the church on that dreadful day in 1987 (Just tell me you're sorry), and even in that manky, smelly basement in Cardiff (I'm so glad I met you!). But this-this was far more intense than anything she'd seen before.
"I don't want you to think it's anything wrong with you," he said, looking at her with that piercing gaze that seemed to see right into her. "There's nothing wrong with you. You're perfect, just the way you are, and I…."
A sharp knocking sounded at the door, and she jumped as he whipped around. "Come in," he said, rising to his feet to stand between her and the door, which opened to admit a pair of what Rose assumed were this planet's version of orderlies. She rubbed her hands over her face in a mixture of frustration and discomfort, wondering what he had been about to say.
"We're here to help you move to your new room, sir," one of the orderlies said, bowing respectfully. "The priests have set aside a room near the Sanctum for you to stay in this night, while your lady wife recovers. Tomorrow night will be the Night of Blessing."
"Yeah, about that," the Doctor said. "We need to speak to whoever's in charge of this Sacred Couple business. Who would that be?"
The orderlies glanced at each other. "That would be the High Priest and High Priestess," the other one said. "But they're in solitary retreat until tomorrow morning. Unavailable to anyone. It's their tradition before the Night of Blessing," he added, as the Doctor raised an eyebrow. "I'm sure they'll be happy to speak with you after morning devotions."
"I'm sure they will," the Doctor said dryly. "All right. Take us to our new room, and we'll talk to them tomorrow."
Rose shot him a look, but his expression remained bland as they brought in a sort of wheelchair for her-it was different from the ones she was used to, but its purpose was clear. One of them pulled a dressing gown out of a long cupboard as she sat up, and she managed to get herself into it, tie its sash, and get seated in the chair. The Doctor, she noticed, had her neatly-folded clothing and her boots in hand, retrieved from wherever they'd been put when she'd been brought in. One of the orderlies opened the door, and they started out towards their new room.
The walls were frescoed with stylised but beautiful paintings, each of them featuring the same figure: a beautiful, long-haired woman Rose guessed must be their Goddess. The paintings seemed to be telling a story, panel by panel, and she frowned, trying to decipher their meaning.
Apparently the Doctor had noticed them as well, for he said, "Tell us about these paintings. They're… interesting."
"They're the story of the Revelation, in pictures," the first orderly said, as though that should answer everything.
"And what's that, then?" The orderly looked at him, scandalised, and the Doctor added, "We're off-worlders. Only got here yesterday."
"Ah, came for the festival, did you?" The orderly nodded and slowed down so the two of them could see the pictures properly. "Well, about eight hundred years ago, Blessed Kaane and Blessed Junia were walking home from market, and they saw a light in the sky. A meteor, so they thought. It landed nearby, and they were drawn to investigate-and that was when they saw Her."
Rose could hear the capital letter, and its meaning was clear in the picture: a man and a woman on their knees, staring up at a glowing, completely nude woman who smiled benevolently down on them.
"So your goddess came from the sky, did she?" the Doctor asked, his voice so neutral that Rose was sure he must be thinking the same thing she was: some alien influence had convinced them that there was a goddess who needed worshipping. A trickle of interest slid down her spine, masquerading as nervousness. Was the alien still there after all these years, or had it died and only the memory of its landing lived on?
"Oh, no," the orderly said, smiling. "No, that was just a meteor. But She used it to bring the Blessed Ones to the spot where She could reveal Herself to them. It was then that She, through Her servants, began to bring light to the sin-darkened world."
The Doctor exchanged a glance with Rose, which confirmed her feeling that he was suspicious. "Has anything survived of the meteor's landing site? A relic of some sort, maybe?"
"The Sanctum is built directly over it," the other orderly put in. "And the temple was built exactly to Her specifications. The outpouring of devotion was so strong that it was finished only a year after it began, and each of its rooms was dedicated on the same night by a different couple. It's grown since then, of course, but the Night of Blessing is a remembrance of the dedication ceremony. Except, of course, there's only one Sacred Couple."
Rose suddenly realised what he meant by 'dedicated,' and felt herself blushing furiously. These people really did worship sex, she thought. Or else they worshipped by means of sex. She tried to imagine someone having sex in St Paul's back home, and immediately felt a combination of shock, horror, and guilt even at the thought.
The rest of the frescoes depicted events in the lives of that first High Priest and Priestess, including their handing over of their staffs of office to their successors, when they were very old. That fresco was a sort of triptych. The first picture showed an old couple and a younger couple facing each other, both women's hands on one staff and both men's hands on the other; the second showed a bright reddish-gold light surrounding the old couple; and the third, the young couple alone with their staffs of office, surrounded by the same red-gold light. In the spots where the old couple had been standing were two piles of what looked like ash.
"What's happened there?" the Doctor demanded, nodding toward the third panel.
"That's the first Bequeathment," the first orderly said. "When the Blessed Ones were old and ending their lifespan, they chose successors to carry on their holy mission. The power of the Goddess passed from the Blessed Ones to the new High Priest and High Priestess, and in honour of their long service, She turned their bodies to dust without the need for a funeral pyre."
There was a new expression in the Doctor's eyes now, one she recognised: comprehension, and dawning anger. "I'd like to see the Sanctum," he said.
The two orderlies frowned, as if surprised. "Of course," the second one said, "but wouldn't you rather get settled first, so your lady wife can get dressed?"
"Yes," Rose said decisively. No way was she running-or being wheeled!-about the temple wearing nothing but an open-at-the-back hospital gown and a dressing gown, and no way was he going exploring without her. She gave him a glare that communicated both of those statements firmly.
"Yeah, all right," the Doctor said with very little graciousness, and the rest of the trip passed in silence.
The House of Healing must be quite a long way away from the central part of the temple, Rose thought as the corridor branched, then branched again, and then a third time. She wondered vaguely just how big the temple complex was…and whether its size would be a consideration if (when?) they had to run for it.
At last they arrived at a pair of double doors, made of a deep, rich, reddish wood and carved into a relief of the goddess surrounded by light. The second orderly opened the doors as the first one pushed Rose in, followed closely by the Doctor.
Rose stared unabashedly around the room. It was circular, with walls of stained wood planks that had been arranged to form a spiral up to the centre of the ceiling. The ceiling itself was almost egg-shaped, coming to a near-point at the top. A deceptively simple but lovely chandelier hung from the highest point, its chain extending down so that it was low enough to throw its light evenly to all parts of the room. But it was the furnishings that caught her eye-a huge bed with a satin duvet in a deep red that seemed to invite the body as well as the eye; a divan that looked vaguely Victorian to Rose, upholstered in a similar colour; a deep, plush carpet that might have been beige but looked golden in the lamplight, so thick that when Rose stood carefully, her bare feet sank luxuriously into the pile. On a low table was a tray with a domed lid, probably containing food, and a carafe of what looked like wine. Rose was enchanted.
The Doctor snorted inelegantly. "Subtle," he said with pointed irony.
The second orderly, who had helped Rose to her feet, assisted her to the divan and sat her down. Normally she'd have been irritated with the attention, but somehow, it seemed nothing more than kindness. She had been injured, and had spent more than a day unconscious; no doubt he knew more about the after-effects of decapod poison than she did, and was making sure she didn't have a relapse. She smiled at him. "Thanks."
"My privilege," he said with an answering smile. "When you have rested and refreshed yourselves, please feel free to go to the Sanctum. Turn left into the corridor, go to the next turning, and turn right. You'll see the entrance there. Blessings on you both." With bows, he and his colleague left, closing the doors behind them with a soft click.
"They'll bless anything, won't they?" the Doctor observed in a dry tone. "Blessed this, blessed that, blessed him, blessed her, blessed night, blessings on you…."
"He was only being polite."
"Yeah, well, maybe. But I want to see this Sanctum." He came over and handed her the bundle of her clothes, setting her ankle-boots on the floor beside her. "Get dressed, and then we're going exploring. There's much more to this goddess business than meets the eye, and I'd be very interested to know how much this room resembles the Sanctum." She was just sitting there, watching him, until he said with some asperity, "Well, go on!"
"Not with you watching me," she answered in the same tone of voice, and made a motion with her finger that meant 'turn around'.
Huffing with annoyance, he complied. "You do know that I helped get you into that gown," he said.
Her fingers fumbled with the ties to the gown, and she stared at his back. "You did?"
"I am a doctor," he pointed out. "And yes, I've got medical training. Seen a lot of naked bodies, me."
"Oh, thanks," she muttered under her breath as she discarded the hospital gown and slipped into her clothes. Shoving her feet into her ankle boots and stamping slightly to settle them, she said at last, "All right. I'm ready."
He turned round and smiled at her, that big goofy grin she loved, all frustration apparently forgotten. "Then let's go!" he said, holding out his hand to her.
She smiled and stepped forward to take it. "What's unusual about this room?" she asked. "And why do you think the Sanctum might look like it?"
"Take a look at the walls, the way they're designed. What do you notice?"
She shrugged, looking around. "Looks like a spiral, heading up."
"Exactly!" He beamed at her again. "This room is designed for energy transfer. The patterns in the walls provide a pathway for the energy to go. And if you look, see? The bed lines up with the pattern, so almost all of the energy would go straight into the pathway, not dissipate into the floor or the air. And the colours they've chosen-reds and golds, the colours of passion. Oh, yes," he added at Rose's raised eyebrow. "Colours affect humans' emotions. That's why hospitals paint their hallways and rooms the awful colours they do. Bright colours like red can evoke and encourage all sorts of passions, whether it's love, sex, or even anger. Though I doubt anger is what they're trying for here."
"So…" Rose began, frowning as she tried to work it out, "you're saying they're encouraging the people in this room to have sex so they can…suck up the energy or something?"
"Oh, yes," the Doctor said.
"But who's doing it? The goddess or whatever?"
"That's what we're here to find out. Come on, let's have a look."
The entry to the Sanctum was exactly where the orderly had said it would be. However, it was blocked by a pair of big, broad-shouldered men in dark grey priest's robes. They stood silently, obviously guarding the entrance, though their expressions were oddly contemplative. Rose faltered, but the Doctor tugged her along, walking right up to the men. "Hello!" he said cheerfully. "I'm the Doctor, and this is Rose. We've been told we're the Sacred Couple, but we're not familiar with the temple. We were wondering if we could have a look in the Sanctum?"
"The High Priest and High Priestess are not to be disturbed," the left-hand guard said firmly, but politely.
"Oh, we're not going to disturb them!" the Doctor assured him. "Just wanted to have a quick look. Just a peek-open the door, stick our heads in, ooh and ahh-silently, of course-and back out again. That's all. They won't even know we're there."
"I'm very sorry, but I have my instructions," the priest said. There seemed to be real regret in his voice. "If you'd been ten minutes earlier, I could have allowed it, but the High Priest and Priestess closed the doors just a few minutes ago. You'll have to wait for tomorrow, I'm afraid."
The Doctor's eyebrows rose. "Really? Just a few minutes ago? Is that a common thing, that they'll close off the Sanctum to worshippers at a moment's notice?"
"They do as the Goddess bids them," the priest said. His silent partner nodded, pressing his crossed hands over his heart in what was presumably a ritual gesture.
"Of course," the Doctor replied thoughtfully, then brightened. "Right. We won't disturb you any further; we'll see the Sanctum in the morning. Night!" He waved at them and the two of them headed back to their room. As soon as they'd turned the corner, his face shifted into a harder expression. "They're keeping us out of there on purpose," he said quietly to Rose. "I don't know if it's because those two lads who moved us told them we were interested, or if they heard us talking in that room, but there's definitely something they don't want us to see."
"So what we gonna do?" Rose asked, stumbling slightly as she fought to keep up with him. She was starting to feel a bit fatigued, but refused to give in to it. She wasn't going to have him wandering off without her and leaving her alone because she was too weak to keep up.
"We're going back to the room and we're gonna stay there long enough for most of the temple to be asleep, and then we're gonna try again. And if we can't get in by the main doors, we'll find another way. There's got to be one." He opened the doors to their room, and bowed. "After you."
She smiled and went in, trying not to show how exhausted she was. Her wound was starting to throb, too. Working hard to keep herself upright, she walked toward the bed and sat down on its edge. "So we're just gonna sit here?"
"That's the plan, for the moment at least." The Doctor went over to the domed tray and lifted its cover. "Aha. Sandwiches. Hungry? We might as well eat."
His voice sounded strangely far away. "N-no," she managed. "No, I think I'll just… have a bit of a lie-down, s'all."
"Rose?" He was beside her, one hand on her cheek, forcing her to look up at him. She blinked, trying to focus her eyes. He said something low and furious in a language she didn't understand, then her legs were being lifted up onto the bed and she was being laid down with a tenderness she was barely able to recognise. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "I've pushed you too hard. You should still be recuperating."
"'M jus' tired," she protested, eyes drifting closed. "Don' want you… go anywhere… 'thout me."
"I won't. I promise." His hand smoothed over her hair, and she sighed contentedly. "Sleep. We'll storm the Sanctum when you're better."
As she drifted into slumber, she thought she felt gentle lips pressing against her forehead.
***
This planet had a day roughly the same length as Earth, and its settlers had carried their system of time measurement from home, right down to bells marking each quarter hour. They weren't Westminster chimes, but they followed the same pattern.
The Doctor hated them. If he'd wanted to know what time it was every fifteen minutes, he could've found out very easily for himself. As it was, they only reinforced the knowledge of how long she'd been out-at this point, six hours and twenty-nine…
The bells rang, repeating the first two of the four parts of their chime.
…Thirty minutes. Six and a half hours. Granted, humans normally slept seven hours or more, and Rose herself was barely conscious with less than eight, but this wasn't a normal sleep cycle; this was illness. Illness that he had unwittingly caused by bringing her to this place, and exacerbated by pushing her to do more than she should have, instead of allowing her to rest. Not that there would have been much 'allowing' about it; she'd have insisted on coming with him if she thought he was going anywhere. But that wasn't the point; he'd got himself so wrapped up in the mystery of this religion's origins that he'd neglected to put her safety first.
Never again, he swore to himself and to her. Never again would he allow his need to have her with him take precedence over her own well-being.
He propped himself up on an elbow, watching her. The only seat in the room was the divan, which was much too big to haul over to the bed and wouldn't allow him to be close enough to her in any case, so he'd pulled off his boots and jacket and lain down beside her. She lay, still clothed though he'd removed her boots as well, on her back in the middle of the bed, unmoving except for the steady rise and fall of her chest. Her skin was pale and clammy, and when he'd looked at her wound, he'd found that it was bleeding again, though very slightly. He'd got hold of a priest walking down the hall and got him to send an orderly down with more bandages and antibiotics, but that was really all he could do besides staying with her, making sure he was there when she woke up, and hoping with all his hearts that she would make a full recovery…sooner rather than later.
He'd even be willing to go through with the stupid Sacred Couple thing, if that was what it took, he thought, brushing the backs of his knuckles over her cheek. It wasn't that he didn't find her attractive-Rassilon, no! He found her very attractive. Too much so, in fact. He'd tried so hard to stay away from her only because it wouldn't be fair to her to get involved with him. He was more than old, he was ancient, and alien besides.
And more than that, he was certainly not the kind of man she deserved, no matter what she thought. No-one like Rose deserved a lover who had as many deaths on his conscience as he did. Not just his own people, but so many others he had condemned to death or whose deaths he had unwittingly caused. It was the one thing he could count on, no matter the body he wore or the place he travelled: he would bring death with him. He always did.
But oh, his hearts longed to take her into his arms and feel her young, lithe, muscular body pressed against his-to bend and finally taste those beautiful lips that drove him mad-to kiss every inch of her skin as he removed her clothes, until finally she lay naked beneath him, eyes bright, skin flushed with arousal, holding her arms out in invitation for him to sink into her, into her arms and into her body, and know that there was one bright spot in his universe where he was not entirely alone….
He snapped awake, senses thrumming with warning. That hadn't been his fantasy-not entirely, anyway. He wouldn't be fantasising about her when she was lying here so ill. That meant that someone was tampering with his mind. It shouldn't be possible, but his defences were down as a result of his worry for her, and someone had managed to sneak by his shields. But who? And why?
"We are impressed, Doctor," an amused female voice said from behind him. He whipped around, sitting up on the edge of the bed and reaching automatically for the sonic screwdriver which he'd been using to keep an eye on Rose's vital signs. Just inside the doors stood a man and a woman, apparently in their early fifties, dressed in a slightly fancier version of the priestly robes he'd seen on others. The only things that set them apart were the staffs they carried-the same staffs he'd seen in the murals on the wall as they'd been brought down here. Immediately he knew who these people must be.
"Well, that's good to know," he said, voice dripping sarcasm. "It's always been one of my goals in life to impress a pair of Edanya who've managed to create a religion on a somewhat backwards frontier planet and work themselves into free meals of pure emotion by the simple expedient of taking over a pair of hosts and creating them High Priest and Priestess. Not a bad life if you can arrange it-just a bit of murder once every sixty or so years, and everything's peachy."
"Oh, you wound us," the High Priest said sincerely, placing his hand over his heart. "We've murdered no-one."
"Right, your hosts just offered their bodies to you."
"Of course they did," the High Priestess said evenly. "To be Avatars of their Goddess? It's an honour everyone in the priesthood dreams of."
"But you're lying to them," the Doctor snapped, rising to his feet and advancing toward them. "You're not gods, there is no mother goddess, you've lied to them for centuries!"
"And what is the result of the lies?" the High Priest asked, his voice smooth. "A peaceful, healthy culture, full of life and creativity. A strong religion to give the people a sense of belonging to their universe. And a way of sustaining ourselves that causes no harm. Those whom we inhabit are not destroyed; they remain in their own minds, background voices to our cause and content to be so. They have, after all, chosen this life openly; they know that once the Bequeathment occurs, they will no longer be themselves. And when they are old and it is time for them to die, we pass into our new hosts, and our previous hosts go to their well-deserved rest."
"So you created a religion where sex is holy, so you could siphon off the energy from it."
"From that," the High Priestess agreed. "And from worship services themselves. The fervour of a true believer is as sweet as the ecstasy of love, and with a whole temple full of true believers, no one person is damaged by what we take." She spread her hands to either side, a gesture of openness. "We are a peace-loving people, we Edanya," she said. "We do not wish to cause pain or unhappiness, nor to take lives not willingly given."
He narrowed his eyes. "Yeah? Then why were you in my head, messin' with my thoughts about Rose?"
Both of them smiled kindly. "We were exploring them, not messing with them," the High Priest corrected. "We simply wanted to know your true feelings for your companion-who is not your wife."
"No, she's not," the Doctor snapped. "But you had no business bein' in my head at all. If I hadn't been so worried for her, you'd never have got in."
"No, that is true," the High Priestess agreed. The Doctor was getting tired of the back-and-forth between the two, but at least he was getting answers. "But that is the point, is it not, Doctor? It is understandable that you should be concerned for the well-being of your friend, but your feelings go far beyond that. She is not your wife, and yet you harbour emotions that one normally sees only in a spouse."
"But you deny those emotions," the High Priest put in. "You hold her at arm's length, despite the fact that her feelings are the same as yours. Why do you not accept the bond you are forging with her? Why do you remain so…" He struggled for the word. "…unfulfilled?"
"That," the Doctor said coldly, "is none of your business." He folded his arms and glared at them. "I could stop you," he said. "I could put an end to your charade, make sure your obedient little servants see you for who and what you are."
"And what would be the result of that?" the High Priestess asked. Her voice was filled with what was undoubtedly meant to sound like sweet reason. "This religion holds the planet together. It took a population of squabbling, selfish beings and turned them into a cohesive whole. Murder is nearly unknown here, Doctor. So are theft and assault. A child can be sent from an outlying farm into town with a bag of money to make purchases, and return home safely. What other planet can say that? And what would happen to that peace, that stability, if their beliefs were taken away, their goddess shown to be nothing more than a fiction created by a pair of energy-form aliens?"
The Doctor looked away. He knew very well what would happen: the whole culture would fall apart at the seams, and the peace and stability the planet now enjoyed would be shattered forever. "They have a right to know," he growled.
"Indeed. But who will take the responsibility for the outcome of such an action? Will you, Doctor? Will you take away the happiness of an entire planet, a happiness bought only by a little emotional energy generated by a congregation, for the sake of Truth?"
The Doctor closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. They were right. They weren't harming anyone-though it still galled him that they were taking the energy from others' emotions without asking-and their religion did hold this culture together. He knew they had not been lying to him; the lack of crime had been one of the reasons he'd chosen this planet for Rose's 'day off.' Some day off.
"Yeah, okay," he said, sighing. "You're right. I don't have the right to take that from them." He looked up at them, glaring again. "But I'll keep an eye on this planet," he warned them softly, "and if I discover you've started harming anyone, I'll be back, and you'll be gone."
"Of course," the High Priestess said, and smiled. "Come. I'm sure you'd like to take your…friend…back to your ship. She will rest easier there, and so, I think, will you."
"Definitely," he muttered. He slipped back into his jacket and boots, put Rose's boots on her as well, and lifted her carefully into his arms. She didn't wake. The High Priest and Priestess stepped aside, holding open the doors for him, and as he passed, the High Priest gently lifted Rose's lolling head to place it comfortably on the Doctor's shoulder.
The Doctor paused. "Thanks," he said.
The High Priest smiled, but said only, "Acolyte Synd will show you the way to the main doors. I think you can find your way to your ship on your own."
The Doctor nodded and left, following the acolyte in silence.
***
Rose woke slowly, as was her wont, drifting gently back into consciousness. She stretched luxuriously, then paused, frowning. She didn't usually wear nightgowns; usually she slept in a vest and shorts. But here she was, wearing a cotton nightgown her mum had insisted she pack. She opened her eyes and sat up, rubbing her forehead wearily, then paused as memory caught up with her.
They'd been in the temple on Tombstone, trying to work out a way to get into the Sanctum. She must've passed out or something; the last thing she remembered was the world swaying around her. But then how had she ended up in her own bed in the TARDIS?
The door opened softly, and the Doctor came in with a bowl of something hot; Rose could see the steam rising from it. "How you feeling?" he asked, setting the bowl down on her bedside table and reaching into the inside pocket of his jacket to pull out the sonic screwdriver and run its beam over her face and torso.
"Better." She glanced at the bowl. "That soup?" It smelled wonderful, and her stomach growled loudly.
He chuckled. "Yeah, s'chicken soup. Been scientifically proven to have antibacterial agents, you know. Here, lemme help you." He propped her pillows behind her and helped her sit up properly, then handed her the bowl. "Careful, it's hot."
Rose took a careful spoonful and closed her eyes in bliss. "Feels like I've not eaten for days," she said, spooning up another mouthful.
"You haven't," he said soberly. "Been almost seventy-two hours since your last meal. S'why I brought the soup; easy on your stomach after all this time." She glanced at him, startled, and saw the remnants of worry on his face. "That decapod venom hit you pretty hard, and me pushin' you to come explorin' with me didn't help. I'm sorry."
"You didn't push me. I wanted to come along." She sighed. "S'pose you solved the mystery without me," she said a little glumly, taking another mouthful of soup. It really was good, and not just because she was starving.
"Nah. No mystery to solve, actually. Was all a big misunderstanding. Just a perfectly normal religion. I talked to the High Priest and High Priestess, and it turns out there was nothing unusual about it at all. Well, except for the whole Sacred Couple thing-but they agreed that, ill as you were, their goddess would hardly expect you to do anything so strenuous, and so they found a couple who had been married a few days before we supposedly were, and they were happy to take on the honour. It's all worked out. I brought you back here so I could keep an eye on you, once I knew that the venom was all counteracted in your system, and we're now floating in a little pocket of the Vortex. Easy."
She looked carefully at him as she finished her soup. Something about his explanation didn't quite seem to fit her memories of his attitude before she'd passed out, but then again, she hadn't exactly been at her best then. Maybe she was remembering wrong. "So what next?" she asked.
"Next, you spend a few days recovering. I'm not risking you doing too much too soon again. And then-" He grinned. "We find a real day off. And I'll be careful to research poisonous flora and fauna before we go!"
She laughed, setting her spoon in her empty bowl and handing it to him. "Sounds great," she said. "Don' want to repeat this anytime soon."
He sobered, setting the bowl down on the bedside table again. "No," he said quietly. "Neither do I."
He reached out a hand to cup her cheek, and she blinked, touched by the tenderness of the gesture. And then he was leaning toward her, slowly, his blue eyes intense, and she suddenly realised what he was doing. She closed her eyes as his lips touched hers, just as tenderly as his hand on her cheek-a kiss filled with so much love she felt tears prickling her eyes.
He drew away reluctantly, hand still on her cheek, and looked her deep in the eyes. "You can get up if you want, or go back to sleep if you'd rather," he said. "I'll be in the console room. Just call my name if you need me; the TARDIS will tell me where you are."
Without giving her time to respond, he picked up the empty bowl and spoon and left, closing the door quietly behind him. Rose stared after him, blinking in surprise.
The Doctor had kissed her.
He'd kissed her.
She shook her head, trying to clear it. Was this some sort of fever-dream? Or perhaps the whole thing was a dream, and they'd never landed on Tombstone in the first place?
On the other hand, maybe it was real. And if it was…what did that kiss mean?
She sighed, rubbing her face with her hands. More questions than answers with him, that was for sure. Then again, how was that different from most blokes?
Shaking her head again, Rose flipped back her covers and walked cautiously to her en-suite bathroom. First things first: a shower. The rest of it would take care of itself.
She hoped.
Pairing: Nine/Rose
Rating: Teens
Warnings: None
Spoilers: None
Beta: larielromeniel, joely_jo, sensiblecat, wendymr, and dark_aegis
Summary: On the planet Tombstone, Rose is stung by an insect and the Doctor is forced to lie about their relationship in order to be permitted to treat her. Unfortunately, the lie leads to much more than he bargained for.
A/N: This was one of those stories that took on a life of its own. This was NOT where I intended it to go. Many hugs and loves to my betas, who held my hand lots and convinced me this wasn't shite. Part 1 can be found here.
"Wife?" Rose repeated, glaring. "How come they think I'm your wife?"
The Doctor almost looked embarrassed. "I had to think of some way to get them to let me stay with you when they were treating you. This seemed like the only option."
"But… wife? That was the best thing your nine-hundred-year-old brain could come up with?"
"It was spur of the moment," he said a bit defensively. "I didn't have time to think it through."
"Obviously."
"Look, I didn't mean for things to get out of hand like this," he said, still sounding defensive but with a note of apology. "It was just… you were in such a bad way, and I wasn't about to leave you, and this was the quickest way I could think of to get them to let me stay with you. I was more worried about getting the anti-venom into you; I had no idea they'd come up with this…Sacred Couple nonsense."
She narrowed her eyes at him, trying to judge his mood, trying to see if he really was sincere. He seemed to be. She sighed. "What are we going to do? And before you start making suggestions, let me just tell you that I really don't want to be in some alien porn movie."
The Doctor frowned. "'Porn movie'?" he repeated.
"Yeah, this whole Sacred Couple thing. Sex on the altar or whatever, right in front of the whole lot of them? Not a chance." She set her jaw, ready to argue it out with him. If he made some comment about a "different morality," she was going to sock him one, no matter how ill she was; it was his fault they were in this predicament in the first place. Twenty-first-century morals or not, if they were going to have sex, it was going to be just the two of them.
"It wouldn't be on the altar, Rose," he said, leaning against the wall, arms crossed. "Didn't you hear the Healer? She said it's all private. Doors are locked and everything. Just you, me, and the statue of the Goddess."
"It is?" That put a different spin on things. Maybe this wasn't so bad after all. She allowed her mind to drift briefly, imagining the two of them on a pile of satin cushions in a richly-appointed room, his mouth on her throat, kissing down…down…down….
"Missed that part, did you? Not surprising, given the rest of the information." His lip curled. "Why is it that humans always want to take something perfectly normal, like sex, and make it into something else? You lot, all through your history, sex is either something to be ashamed of or something to be worshipped." He pushed away from the wall and moved over toward the counter, tidying up the bottles and empty bandage wrappers there. "Anyway, don't worry, we won't be going along with it."
Her daydream vanished abruptly at this return to reality. "Oh. Yeah," she said faintly. She could feel a flush creeping up her cheeks. "Right, yeah. Never thought we actually would-I mean, you don't, do you?"
He glanced up at her. "Don't what?" he asked.
Was he kidding? Well, she wasn't about to tell him he didn't have sex, that was for sure. "Do domestic," she said. "Not your thing, right? Or religion, either, and I definitely can't see you combining the two. Besides, we're not-we don't-I mean, not that I hadn't thought about it-"
Oh bloody hell. Now he was smirking at her. What had made her say that? "We're just friends," she said firmly, her skin burning with embarrassment. "We travel together, that's all. Not like we were ever going to-you know."
His gaze hadn't wavered, and she looked away, mortified. God, what had made her admit she'd fantasised about him? She couldn't wait to get back to the TARDIS now, just so she could lose herself in the ship's miles of hallways, and not have to face him for a while. A day or two. Or a week. Maybe a month-yeah, a month would just about do it.
His hand curled around hers, squeezing gently, reassuringly. She squeezed back, but couldn't quite bring herself to meet his gaze. "Rose," he said, gently. "Look at me."
Reluctantly, she did, and blinked in surprise at the expression in his eyes. She'd seen versions of that expression in the past-in the Cabinet Room at 10 Downing Street (I could save the world, but lose you!), in the church on that dreadful day in 1987 (Just tell me you're sorry), and even in that manky, smelly basement in Cardiff (I'm so glad I met you!). But this-this was far more intense than anything she'd seen before.
"I don't want you to think it's anything wrong with you," he said, looking at her with that piercing gaze that seemed to see right into her. "There's nothing wrong with you. You're perfect, just the way you are, and I…."
A sharp knocking sounded at the door, and she jumped as he whipped around. "Come in," he said, rising to his feet to stand between her and the door, which opened to admit a pair of what Rose assumed were this planet's version of orderlies. She rubbed her hands over her face in a mixture of frustration and discomfort, wondering what he had been about to say.
"We're here to help you move to your new room, sir," one of the orderlies said, bowing respectfully. "The priests have set aside a room near the Sanctum for you to stay in this night, while your lady wife recovers. Tomorrow night will be the Night of Blessing."
"Yeah, about that," the Doctor said. "We need to speak to whoever's in charge of this Sacred Couple business. Who would that be?"
The orderlies glanced at each other. "That would be the High Priest and High Priestess," the other one said. "But they're in solitary retreat until tomorrow morning. Unavailable to anyone. It's their tradition before the Night of Blessing," he added, as the Doctor raised an eyebrow. "I'm sure they'll be happy to speak with you after morning devotions."
"I'm sure they will," the Doctor said dryly. "All right. Take us to our new room, and we'll talk to them tomorrow."
Rose shot him a look, but his expression remained bland as they brought in a sort of wheelchair for her-it was different from the ones she was used to, but its purpose was clear. One of them pulled a dressing gown out of a long cupboard as she sat up, and she managed to get herself into it, tie its sash, and get seated in the chair. The Doctor, she noticed, had her neatly-folded clothing and her boots in hand, retrieved from wherever they'd been put when she'd been brought in. One of the orderlies opened the door, and they started out towards their new room.
The walls were frescoed with stylised but beautiful paintings, each of them featuring the same figure: a beautiful, long-haired woman Rose guessed must be their Goddess. The paintings seemed to be telling a story, panel by panel, and she frowned, trying to decipher their meaning.
Apparently the Doctor had noticed them as well, for he said, "Tell us about these paintings. They're… interesting."
"They're the story of the Revelation, in pictures," the first orderly said, as though that should answer everything.
"And what's that, then?" The orderly looked at him, scandalised, and the Doctor added, "We're off-worlders. Only got here yesterday."
"Ah, came for the festival, did you?" The orderly nodded and slowed down so the two of them could see the pictures properly. "Well, about eight hundred years ago, Blessed Kaane and Blessed Junia were walking home from market, and they saw a light in the sky. A meteor, so they thought. It landed nearby, and they were drawn to investigate-and that was when they saw Her."
Rose could hear the capital letter, and its meaning was clear in the picture: a man and a woman on their knees, staring up at a glowing, completely nude woman who smiled benevolently down on them.
"So your goddess came from the sky, did she?" the Doctor asked, his voice so neutral that Rose was sure he must be thinking the same thing she was: some alien influence had convinced them that there was a goddess who needed worshipping. A trickle of interest slid down her spine, masquerading as nervousness. Was the alien still there after all these years, or had it died and only the memory of its landing lived on?
"Oh, no," the orderly said, smiling. "No, that was just a meteor. But She used it to bring the Blessed Ones to the spot where She could reveal Herself to them. It was then that She, through Her servants, began to bring light to the sin-darkened world."
The Doctor exchanged a glance with Rose, which confirmed her feeling that he was suspicious. "Has anything survived of the meteor's landing site? A relic of some sort, maybe?"
"The Sanctum is built directly over it," the other orderly put in. "And the temple was built exactly to Her specifications. The outpouring of devotion was so strong that it was finished only a year after it began, and each of its rooms was dedicated on the same night by a different couple. It's grown since then, of course, but the Night of Blessing is a remembrance of the dedication ceremony. Except, of course, there's only one Sacred Couple."
Rose suddenly realised what he meant by 'dedicated,' and felt herself blushing furiously. These people really did worship sex, she thought. Or else they worshipped by means of sex. She tried to imagine someone having sex in St Paul's back home, and immediately felt a combination of shock, horror, and guilt even at the thought.
The rest of the frescoes depicted events in the lives of that first High Priest and Priestess, including their handing over of their staffs of office to their successors, when they were very old. That fresco was a sort of triptych. The first picture showed an old couple and a younger couple facing each other, both women's hands on one staff and both men's hands on the other; the second showed a bright reddish-gold light surrounding the old couple; and the third, the young couple alone with their staffs of office, surrounded by the same red-gold light. In the spots where the old couple had been standing were two piles of what looked like ash.
"What's happened there?" the Doctor demanded, nodding toward the third panel.
"That's the first Bequeathment," the first orderly said. "When the Blessed Ones were old and ending their lifespan, they chose successors to carry on their holy mission. The power of the Goddess passed from the Blessed Ones to the new High Priest and High Priestess, and in honour of their long service, She turned their bodies to dust without the need for a funeral pyre."
There was a new expression in the Doctor's eyes now, one she recognised: comprehension, and dawning anger. "I'd like to see the Sanctum," he said.
The two orderlies frowned, as if surprised. "Of course," the second one said, "but wouldn't you rather get settled first, so your lady wife can get dressed?"
"Yes," Rose said decisively. No way was she running-or being wheeled!-about the temple wearing nothing but an open-at-the-back hospital gown and a dressing gown, and no way was he going exploring without her. She gave him a glare that communicated both of those statements firmly.
"Yeah, all right," the Doctor said with very little graciousness, and the rest of the trip passed in silence.
The House of Healing must be quite a long way away from the central part of the temple, Rose thought as the corridor branched, then branched again, and then a third time. She wondered vaguely just how big the temple complex was…and whether its size would be a consideration if (when?) they had to run for it.
At last they arrived at a pair of double doors, made of a deep, rich, reddish wood and carved into a relief of the goddess surrounded by light. The second orderly opened the doors as the first one pushed Rose in, followed closely by the Doctor.
Rose stared unabashedly around the room. It was circular, with walls of stained wood planks that had been arranged to form a spiral up to the centre of the ceiling. The ceiling itself was almost egg-shaped, coming to a near-point at the top. A deceptively simple but lovely chandelier hung from the highest point, its chain extending down so that it was low enough to throw its light evenly to all parts of the room. But it was the furnishings that caught her eye-a huge bed with a satin duvet in a deep red that seemed to invite the body as well as the eye; a divan that looked vaguely Victorian to Rose, upholstered in a similar colour; a deep, plush carpet that might have been beige but looked golden in the lamplight, so thick that when Rose stood carefully, her bare feet sank luxuriously into the pile. On a low table was a tray with a domed lid, probably containing food, and a carafe of what looked like wine. Rose was enchanted.
The Doctor snorted inelegantly. "Subtle," he said with pointed irony.
The second orderly, who had helped Rose to her feet, assisted her to the divan and sat her down. Normally she'd have been irritated with the attention, but somehow, it seemed nothing more than kindness. She had been injured, and had spent more than a day unconscious; no doubt he knew more about the after-effects of decapod poison than she did, and was making sure she didn't have a relapse. She smiled at him. "Thanks."
"My privilege," he said with an answering smile. "When you have rested and refreshed yourselves, please feel free to go to the Sanctum. Turn left into the corridor, go to the next turning, and turn right. You'll see the entrance there. Blessings on you both." With bows, he and his colleague left, closing the doors behind them with a soft click.
"They'll bless anything, won't they?" the Doctor observed in a dry tone. "Blessed this, blessed that, blessed him, blessed her, blessed night, blessings on you…."
"He was only being polite."
"Yeah, well, maybe. But I want to see this Sanctum." He came over and handed her the bundle of her clothes, setting her ankle-boots on the floor beside her. "Get dressed, and then we're going exploring. There's much more to this goddess business than meets the eye, and I'd be very interested to know how much this room resembles the Sanctum." She was just sitting there, watching him, until he said with some asperity, "Well, go on!"
"Not with you watching me," she answered in the same tone of voice, and made a motion with her finger that meant 'turn around'.
Huffing with annoyance, he complied. "You do know that I helped get you into that gown," he said.
Her fingers fumbled with the ties to the gown, and she stared at his back. "You did?"
"I am a doctor," he pointed out. "And yes, I've got medical training. Seen a lot of naked bodies, me."
"Oh, thanks," she muttered under her breath as she discarded the hospital gown and slipped into her clothes. Shoving her feet into her ankle boots and stamping slightly to settle them, she said at last, "All right. I'm ready."
He turned round and smiled at her, that big goofy grin she loved, all frustration apparently forgotten. "Then let's go!" he said, holding out his hand to her.
She smiled and stepped forward to take it. "What's unusual about this room?" she asked. "And why do you think the Sanctum might look like it?"
"Take a look at the walls, the way they're designed. What do you notice?"
She shrugged, looking around. "Looks like a spiral, heading up."
"Exactly!" He beamed at her again. "This room is designed for energy transfer. The patterns in the walls provide a pathway for the energy to go. And if you look, see? The bed lines up with the pattern, so almost all of the energy would go straight into the pathway, not dissipate into the floor or the air. And the colours they've chosen-reds and golds, the colours of passion. Oh, yes," he added at Rose's raised eyebrow. "Colours affect humans' emotions. That's why hospitals paint their hallways and rooms the awful colours they do. Bright colours like red can evoke and encourage all sorts of passions, whether it's love, sex, or even anger. Though I doubt anger is what they're trying for here."
"So…" Rose began, frowning as she tried to work it out, "you're saying they're encouraging the people in this room to have sex so they can…suck up the energy or something?"
"Oh, yes," the Doctor said.
"But who's doing it? The goddess or whatever?"
"That's what we're here to find out. Come on, let's have a look."
The entry to the Sanctum was exactly where the orderly had said it would be. However, it was blocked by a pair of big, broad-shouldered men in dark grey priest's robes. They stood silently, obviously guarding the entrance, though their expressions were oddly contemplative. Rose faltered, but the Doctor tugged her along, walking right up to the men. "Hello!" he said cheerfully. "I'm the Doctor, and this is Rose. We've been told we're the Sacred Couple, but we're not familiar with the temple. We were wondering if we could have a look in the Sanctum?"
"The High Priest and High Priestess are not to be disturbed," the left-hand guard said firmly, but politely.
"Oh, we're not going to disturb them!" the Doctor assured him. "Just wanted to have a quick look. Just a peek-open the door, stick our heads in, ooh and ahh-silently, of course-and back out again. That's all. They won't even know we're there."
"I'm very sorry, but I have my instructions," the priest said. There seemed to be real regret in his voice. "If you'd been ten minutes earlier, I could have allowed it, but the High Priest and Priestess closed the doors just a few minutes ago. You'll have to wait for tomorrow, I'm afraid."
The Doctor's eyebrows rose. "Really? Just a few minutes ago? Is that a common thing, that they'll close off the Sanctum to worshippers at a moment's notice?"
"They do as the Goddess bids them," the priest said. His silent partner nodded, pressing his crossed hands over his heart in what was presumably a ritual gesture.
"Of course," the Doctor replied thoughtfully, then brightened. "Right. We won't disturb you any further; we'll see the Sanctum in the morning. Night!" He waved at them and the two of them headed back to their room. As soon as they'd turned the corner, his face shifted into a harder expression. "They're keeping us out of there on purpose," he said quietly to Rose. "I don't know if it's because those two lads who moved us told them we were interested, or if they heard us talking in that room, but there's definitely something they don't want us to see."
"So what we gonna do?" Rose asked, stumbling slightly as she fought to keep up with him. She was starting to feel a bit fatigued, but refused to give in to it. She wasn't going to have him wandering off without her and leaving her alone because she was too weak to keep up.
"We're going back to the room and we're gonna stay there long enough for most of the temple to be asleep, and then we're gonna try again. And if we can't get in by the main doors, we'll find another way. There's got to be one." He opened the doors to their room, and bowed. "After you."
She smiled and went in, trying not to show how exhausted she was. Her wound was starting to throb, too. Working hard to keep herself upright, she walked toward the bed and sat down on its edge. "So we're just gonna sit here?"
"That's the plan, for the moment at least." The Doctor went over to the domed tray and lifted its cover. "Aha. Sandwiches. Hungry? We might as well eat."
His voice sounded strangely far away. "N-no," she managed. "No, I think I'll just… have a bit of a lie-down, s'all."
"Rose?" He was beside her, one hand on her cheek, forcing her to look up at him. She blinked, trying to focus her eyes. He said something low and furious in a language she didn't understand, then her legs were being lifted up onto the bed and she was being laid down with a tenderness she was barely able to recognise. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "I've pushed you too hard. You should still be recuperating."
"'M jus' tired," she protested, eyes drifting closed. "Don' want you… go anywhere… 'thout me."
"I won't. I promise." His hand smoothed over her hair, and she sighed contentedly. "Sleep. We'll storm the Sanctum when you're better."
As she drifted into slumber, she thought she felt gentle lips pressing against her forehead.
***
This planet had a day roughly the same length as Earth, and its settlers had carried their system of time measurement from home, right down to bells marking each quarter hour. They weren't Westminster chimes, but they followed the same pattern.
The Doctor hated them. If he'd wanted to know what time it was every fifteen minutes, he could've found out very easily for himself. As it was, they only reinforced the knowledge of how long she'd been out-at this point, six hours and twenty-nine…
The bells rang, repeating the first two of the four parts of their chime.
…Thirty minutes. Six and a half hours. Granted, humans normally slept seven hours or more, and Rose herself was barely conscious with less than eight, but this wasn't a normal sleep cycle; this was illness. Illness that he had unwittingly caused by bringing her to this place, and exacerbated by pushing her to do more than she should have, instead of allowing her to rest. Not that there would have been much 'allowing' about it; she'd have insisted on coming with him if she thought he was going anywhere. But that wasn't the point; he'd got himself so wrapped up in the mystery of this religion's origins that he'd neglected to put her safety first.
Never again, he swore to himself and to her. Never again would he allow his need to have her with him take precedence over her own well-being.
He propped himself up on an elbow, watching her. The only seat in the room was the divan, which was much too big to haul over to the bed and wouldn't allow him to be close enough to her in any case, so he'd pulled off his boots and jacket and lain down beside her. She lay, still clothed though he'd removed her boots as well, on her back in the middle of the bed, unmoving except for the steady rise and fall of her chest. Her skin was pale and clammy, and when he'd looked at her wound, he'd found that it was bleeding again, though very slightly. He'd got hold of a priest walking down the hall and got him to send an orderly down with more bandages and antibiotics, but that was really all he could do besides staying with her, making sure he was there when she woke up, and hoping with all his hearts that she would make a full recovery…sooner rather than later.
He'd even be willing to go through with the stupid Sacred Couple thing, if that was what it took, he thought, brushing the backs of his knuckles over her cheek. It wasn't that he didn't find her attractive-Rassilon, no! He found her very attractive. Too much so, in fact. He'd tried so hard to stay away from her only because it wouldn't be fair to her to get involved with him. He was more than old, he was ancient, and alien besides.
And more than that, he was certainly not the kind of man she deserved, no matter what she thought. No-one like Rose deserved a lover who had as many deaths on his conscience as he did. Not just his own people, but so many others he had condemned to death or whose deaths he had unwittingly caused. It was the one thing he could count on, no matter the body he wore or the place he travelled: he would bring death with him. He always did.
But oh, his hearts longed to take her into his arms and feel her young, lithe, muscular body pressed against his-to bend and finally taste those beautiful lips that drove him mad-to kiss every inch of her skin as he removed her clothes, until finally she lay naked beneath him, eyes bright, skin flushed with arousal, holding her arms out in invitation for him to sink into her, into her arms and into her body, and know that there was one bright spot in his universe where he was not entirely alone….
He snapped awake, senses thrumming with warning. That hadn't been his fantasy-not entirely, anyway. He wouldn't be fantasising about her when she was lying here so ill. That meant that someone was tampering with his mind. It shouldn't be possible, but his defences were down as a result of his worry for her, and someone had managed to sneak by his shields. But who? And why?
"We are impressed, Doctor," an amused female voice said from behind him. He whipped around, sitting up on the edge of the bed and reaching automatically for the sonic screwdriver which he'd been using to keep an eye on Rose's vital signs. Just inside the doors stood a man and a woman, apparently in their early fifties, dressed in a slightly fancier version of the priestly robes he'd seen on others. The only things that set them apart were the staffs they carried-the same staffs he'd seen in the murals on the wall as they'd been brought down here. Immediately he knew who these people must be.
"Well, that's good to know," he said, voice dripping sarcasm. "It's always been one of my goals in life to impress a pair of Edanya who've managed to create a religion on a somewhat backwards frontier planet and work themselves into free meals of pure emotion by the simple expedient of taking over a pair of hosts and creating them High Priest and Priestess. Not a bad life if you can arrange it-just a bit of murder once every sixty or so years, and everything's peachy."
"Oh, you wound us," the High Priest said sincerely, placing his hand over his heart. "We've murdered no-one."
"Right, your hosts just offered their bodies to you."
"Of course they did," the High Priestess said evenly. "To be Avatars of their Goddess? It's an honour everyone in the priesthood dreams of."
"But you're lying to them," the Doctor snapped, rising to his feet and advancing toward them. "You're not gods, there is no mother goddess, you've lied to them for centuries!"
"And what is the result of the lies?" the High Priest asked, his voice smooth. "A peaceful, healthy culture, full of life and creativity. A strong religion to give the people a sense of belonging to their universe. And a way of sustaining ourselves that causes no harm. Those whom we inhabit are not destroyed; they remain in their own minds, background voices to our cause and content to be so. They have, after all, chosen this life openly; they know that once the Bequeathment occurs, they will no longer be themselves. And when they are old and it is time for them to die, we pass into our new hosts, and our previous hosts go to their well-deserved rest."
"So you created a religion where sex is holy, so you could siphon off the energy from it."
"From that," the High Priestess agreed. "And from worship services themselves. The fervour of a true believer is as sweet as the ecstasy of love, and with a whole temple full of true believers, no one person is damaged by what we take." She spread her hands to either side, a gesture of openness. "We are a peace-loving people, we Edanya," she said. "We do not wish to cause pain or unhappiness, nor to take lives not willingly given."
He narrowed his eyes. "Yeah? Then why were you in my head, messin' with my thoughts about Rose?"
Both of them smiled kindly. "We were exploring them, not messing with them," the High Priest corrected. "We simply wanted to know your true feelings for your companion-who is not your wife."
"No, she's not," the Doctor snapped. "But you had no business bein' in my head at all. If I hadn't been so worried for her, you'd never have got in."
"No, that is true," the High Priestess agreed. The Doctor was getting tired of the back-and-forth between the two, but at least he was getting answers. "But that is the point, is it not, Doctor? It is understandable that you should be concerned for the well-being of your friend, but your feelings go far beyond that. She is not your wife, and yet you harbour emotions that one normally sees only in a spouse."
"But you deny those emotions," the High Priest put in. "You hold her at arm's length, despite the fact that her feelings are the same as yours. Why do you not accept the bond you are forging with her? Why do you remain so…" He struggled for the word. "…unfulfilled?"
"That," the Doctor said coldly, "is none of your business." He folded his arms and glared at them. "I could stop you," he said. "I could put an end to your charade, make sure your obedient little servants see you for who and what you are."
"And what would be the result of that?" the High Priestess asked. Her voice was filled with what was undoubtedly meant to sound like sweet reason. "This religion holds the planet together. It took a population of squabbling, selfish beings and turned them into a cohesive whole. Murder is nearly unknown here, Doctor. So are theft and assault. A child can be sent from an outlying farm into town with a bag of money to make purchases, and return home safely. What other planet can say that? And what would happen to that peace, that stability, if their beliefs were taken away, their goddess shown to be nothing more than a fiction created by a pair of energy-form aliens?"
The Doctor looked away. He knew very well what would happen: the whole culture would fall apart at the seams, and the peace and stability the planet now enjoyed would be shattered forever. "They have a right to know," he growled.
"Indeed. But who will take the responsibility for the outcome of such an action? Will you, Doctor? Will you take away the happiness of an entire planet, a happiness bought only by a little emotional energy generated by a congregation, for the sake of Truth?"
The Doctor closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. They were right. They weren't harming anyone-though it still galled him that they were taking the energy from others' emotions without asking-and their religion did hold this culture together. He knew they had not been lying to him; the lack of crime had been one of the reasons he'd chosen this planet for Rose's 'day off.' Some day off.
"Yeah, okay," he said, sighing. "You're right. I don't have the right to take that from them." He looked up at them, glaring again. "But I'll keep an eye on this planet," he warned them softly, "and if I discover you've started harming anyone, I'll be back, and you'll be gone."
"Of course," the High Priestess said, and smiled. "Come. I'm sure you'd like to take your…friend…back to your ship. She will rest easier there, and so, I think, will you."
"Definitely," he muttered. He slipped back into his jacket and boots, put Rose's boots on her as well, and lifted her carefully into his arms. She didn't wake. The High Priest and Priestess stepped aside, holding open the doors for him, and as he passed, the High Priest gently lifted Rose's lolling head to place it comfortably on the Doctor's shoulder.
The Doctor paused. "Thanks," he said.
The High Priest smiled, but said only, "Acolyte Synd will show you the way to the main doors. I think you can find your way to your ship on your own."
The Doctor nodded and left, following the acolyte in silence.
***
Rose woke slowly, as was her wont, drifting gently back into consciousness. She stretched luxuriously, then paused, frowning. She didn't usually wear nightgowns; usually she slept in a vest and shorts. But here she was, wearing a cotton nightgown her mum had insisted she pack. She opened her eyes and sat up, rubbing her forehead wearily, then paused as memory caught up with her.
They'd been in the temple on Tombstone, trying to work out a way to get into the Sanctum. She must've passed out or something; the last thing she remembered was the world swaying around her. But then how had she ended up in her own bed in the TARDIS?
The door opened softly, and the Doctor came in with a bowl of something hot; Rose could see the steam rising from it. "How you feeling?" he asked, setting the bowl down on her bedside table and reaching into the inside pocket of his jacket to pull out the sonic screwdriver and run its beam over her face and torso.
"Better." She glanced at the bowl. "That soup?" It smelled wonderful, and her stomach growled loudly.
He chuckled. "Yeah, s'chicken soup. Been scientifically proven to have antibacterial agents, you know. Here, lemme help you." He propped her pillows behind her and helped her sit up properly, then handed her the bowl. "Careful, it's hot."
Rose took a careful spoonful and closed her eyes in bliss. "Feels like I've not eaten for days," she said, spooning up another mouthful.
"You haven't," he said soberly. "Been almost seventy-two hours since your last meal. S'why I brought the soup; easy on your stomach after all this time." She glanced at him, startled, and saw the remnants of worry on his face. "That decapod venom hit you pretty hard, and me pushin' you to come explorin' with me didn't help. I'm sorry."
"You didn't push me. I wanted to come along." She sighed. "S'pose you solved the mystery without me," she said a little glumly, taking another mouthful of soup. It really was good, and not just because she was starving.
"Nah. No mystery to solve, actually. Was all a big misunderstanding. Just a perfectly normal religion. I talked to the High Priest and High Priestess, and it turns out there was nothing unusual about it at all. Well, except for the whole Sacred Couple thing-but they agreed that, ill as you were, their goddess would hardly expect you to do anything so strenuous, and so they found a couple who had been married a few days before we supposedly were, and they were happy to take on the honour. It's all worked out. I brought you back here so I could keep an eye on you, once I knew that the venom was all counteracted in your system, and we're now floating in a little pocket of the Vortex. Easy."
She looked carefully at him as she finished her soup. Something about his explanation didn't quite seem to fit her memories of his attitude before she'd passed out, but then again, she hadn't exactly been at her best then. Maybe she was remembering wrong. "So what next?" she asked.
"Next, you spend a few days recovering. I'm not risking you doing too much too soon again. And then-" He grinned. "We find a real day off. And I'll be careful to research poisonous flora and fauna before we go!"
She laughed, setting her spoon in her empty bowl and handing it to him. "Sounds great," she said. "Don' want to repeat this anytime soon."
He sobered, setting the bowl down on the bedside table again. "No," he said quietly. "Neither do I."
He reached out a hand to cup her cheek, and she blinked, touched by the tenderness of the gesture. And then he was leaning toward her, slowly, his blue eyes intense, and she suddenly realised what he was doing. She closed her eyes as his lips touched hers, just as tenderly as his hand on her cheek-a kiss filled with so much love she felt tears prickling her eyes.
He drew away reluctantly, hand still on her cheek, and looked her deep in the eyes. "You can get up if you want, or go back to sleep if you'd rather," he said. "I'll be in the console room. Just call my name if you need me; the TARDIS will tell me where you are."
Without giving her time to respond, he picked up the empty bowl and spoon and left, closing the door quietly behind him. Rose stared after him, blinking in surprise.
The Doctor had kissed her.
He'd kissed her.
She shook her head, trying to clear it. Was this some sort of fever-dream? Or perhaps the whole thing was a dream, and they'd never landed on Tombstone in the first place?
On the other hand, maybe it was real. And if it was…what did that kiss mean?
She sighed, rubbing her face with her hands. More questions than answers with him, that was for sure. Then again, how was that different from most blokes?
Shaking her head again, Rose flipped back her covers and walked cautiously to her en-suite bathroom. First things first: a shower. The rest of it would take care of itself.
She hoped.