Archive of Our Own

Then afterwards we drop into a quiet little place
And have a drink or two

And though it's just a line to you
For me it's true
And never seemed so right before

I practice every day
To find some clever lines to say
To make the meaning come true

The time is right, your perfume fills my head
The stars get red, and, oh, the night's so blue

And then I go and spoil it all
By saying something stupid like, "I love you".

“Doctor? Doctor, where are you?” the Brigadier called from the door of the lab. 

The large white hexagon—which the Doctor insisted on calling a console, though it was far too big—was in the centre of the room, a thick tangle of cables running from it into the police box.

“Doctor, are you in there?” the Brigadier tried again.

There was a short bang, a wisp of smoke emerging from the bottom of the console. The Brigadier entered the lab, door swinging shut behind him. “Come out from under that thing,” he ordered.

“One moment, Brigadier,” the Doctor said. “If I don’t reattach the temporal limiter correctly, there could be a massive—”

A sharp burst of heat filled the room, followed by a stiff breeze.

“What was that?” The Brigadier turned in a circle.

“Energy transfer,” a new voice said, young, energetic.

A man had appeared at the console; shaved head, smart moustache, long brown leather coat whipping behind him as he moved around the console. The Doctor stood and came face-to-face with the man, stopping him in his tracks. A look of realisation came over him.

“Oh no,” the Doctor said.

“Who the devil is this?” the Brigadier asked. “Have you been hiding assistants in here? Surely Miss Shaw is enough, Doctor.”

The man turned to him—there was something bright, electrifying in his gaze.

“Brigadier,” he said with strange emphasis. The man rushed to him and took his hand, not to shake, just to hold between both of his. “You don’t recognise me, do you? Well, I have changed more than tenfold since…” He looked over his shoulder at the Doctor.

It can’t be, the Brigadier thought. But the spring in his step, the way he spoke, those clothes…

“Doctor?”

A smile split the man’s—the Doctor’s face. He still hadn’t released his hand and was looking at him like, like he hadn’t seen him in a long time, gaze shot-through with untold sadness, like an old soldier remembering comrades long since gone.

“Were you by any chance repairing the temporal limiter?” his Doctor asked, now beside them.

The Doctor winced. “There was a bit of an accident involving a cup of coffee. I was just checking everything was back in place, touched the temporal limiter and bam, I’m here.” He smiled again, enthused, like he couldn’t help it. “With you two.” The Doctor squeezed his hand. “Oh, it's good to see you.”

That was so clearly directed at him that the Brigadier cleared his throat, unsure how to respond.

“Now steady on, old chap,” his Doctor said and that was it—the appropriate response.

“You steady on,” the Doctor said. “And maybe learn to say things before it’s too late. Alistair, it’s been so long since I’ve,” he pulled his hand to his chest and earnestly clasped it there, “I love you, you know. I loved you back then, back now, when I was him. I was just too, too uptight to say anything.”

“Good grief,” his Doctor muttered.

“Right, I, well, I…” the Brigadier was at a loss.

“You don’t have to say anything,” the Doctor said, shaking his head, “I just want you to know, just for a moment, how much you meant to me.”

And he could feel it, suddenly, looking into the Doctor’s eyes, a sheer breadth of emotion that was almost incomprehensible in its size, its scale, its width and depth. This man knew him to his core, and—and loved him warmly, dearly, completely.

The Doctor leaned in slowly, waiting for a protest that the Brigadier was too astonished to raise. The Doctor’s lips met his softly, chastely, the moment a whole world unto itself that shattered when the Doctor pulled back, releasing his hand to wipe quickly at wet cheeks. He turned away, busying himself at the console.

“That… that was you,” the Brigadier said.

His Doctor placed a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry, Brigadier. You’ll forget all about this soon enough. We both will.”

The Brigadier turned to him in alarm. “Forget—”

At the console, the Doctor disappeared. 

The Brigadier blinked.

“How did you get…?” He looked at the Doctor strangely—one moment across the room, the next beside him. Unconsciously, he shrugged the hand from his shoulder. “Never mind. I don’t pay you to sit around in this lab, Doctor. There’s something I need your help on. Strange power drains at a nuclear research facility under Wenley Moor. Staff are acting oddly too. Just your sort of thing.”

“You pay me?” the Doctor asked, a wry glint in his eye. “How much?”

The Brigadier sighed.