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It’s been a while.
He’s lost count of the nights he’s spent recalibrating and re-recalibrating the TARDIS’s scanners, the days consumed by finding and repurposing the parts he needs to rig her systems for an interdimensional trip. Time and space are easy, dimensions not so much. But the Doctor can’t resist a challenge, or someone asking for help — or, it seems, in this regeneration, the romance of a hopeless search for a lost connection. So he wears Rogue’s ring and he keeps looking.
He doesn’t tell Ruby. He works on it when she’s asleep or back at home with her mum, because the scans all come back negative, and every simulation of the new engine crashes or explodes instead of safely jumping universes. If Ruby knew that, she’d say things like, ‘I’m sorry,’ and ‘You’ll figure it out, I know you will,’ and ‘We’ll find him.’ It’s hard enough to go on smiling and moving forward when he’s only got himself to disappoint.
Then one day he gets a ping.
There’s so many reasons to wait. He really ought to run a confirmation scan and be sure it’s not a blip. His latest virtual test run ended with a 28% chance of his dimension drive ripping a hole through the universe. He hasn’t decided yet what outfit he’s going to wear for the big rescue. And besides, Ruby’s waiting for him: he’s supposed to pick her up from her mum’s soon, and he promised to take her to see spacewhales swimming between long-ago galaxies on the other side of the universe.
But the scanner blips a second time: a tiny faint signal on a crackly radar that whispers, ‘Find me.’
How can he say no to that?
The Doctor darts around the TARDIS console, flipping switches and pressing buttons along the way. The TARDIS rumbles as the drive comes fully online for the first time. He strokes a hand along the edge of her console, chuckling, ‘Steady, old girl. Steady. You’ve got this.’
When the ship quiets, the Doctor wraps his hand around the lever for take-off. Everything’s programmed in and ready to go. He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. He’s a glass-half-full sort of guy, this time around, so even if the echoes of his past selves are determined to tell him this is a bad, bad, bad idea, he believes in his hearts that it’s going to be fine. It is. He’s at least 82% sure.
‘Please work,’ he mutters, and shoots a warning glance at the little screen with readouts from the new drive, and pulls the lever.
The TARDIS whirls as she takes off, throwing the Doctor off balance and forcing him to hold on tight as he staggers, or risk being thrown off the gantry. The ship weaves between layers of reality, shaking hard and then harder, following a signal that pings faster and louder the further they fly, until it’s the long solid blare of an alarm — and the TARDIS at last breaks through. She spins out into clear skies, stabilising, and the Doctor rights himself too with a huff.
‘Nice work,’ he tells the TARDIS, only a little bit sarcastic, and she thrums at him until he smiles and pats the hand rail. ‘No, really. Nice one. We made it! No explosions or anything!’
The scanner blips with a solid signal, and all thought of the bumpy ride leaves the Doctor’s head. He turns his attention to landing. He deliberately doesn’t look at any of the external views on the way down, doesn’t check anything at all except his reflection in the shiny surface of the central column, and steps out blind into a barren dimension.
It’s a world of rocky shards in a wasteland of dust, and standing on the shattered stone before him is a man dressed in the once-fine clothes of a Regency gentleman.
Rogue is still young and still desperately, distractingly, devastatingly handsome. Then again, the Doctor saw from the initial scans that this is a timeless dimension — in the sense that there’s no future and no past, just an endless present moment stretching away into eternity, and the TARDIS couldn’t move forward or back if she tried. That’s saved Rogue from a nasty death by starvation or dehydration, and it’s saved him the trouble of ageing, but he and the Chuldur are creatures of linear time. For them, their experiences march onwards even here. So he’s covered in grime, his clothes are torn and sloppily repaired in places, and there are dark weary circles under his eyes. He looks like he’s been through plenty, since he was transported to this place.
‘You found me,’ he says, as if he can’t believe it.
‘You asked me to,’ the Doctor says.
‘Doctor,’ Rogue says, and starts forward, across the chasm of grey waste between them.
‘Wait,’ the Doctor says.
It’s not what he wants, but it’s a bad move to trust anyone when shapeshifters are involved. Ruby learned that lesson, and it was only her quick thinking that saved her. The Doctor prides himself on his quick thinking, and it’s got him out of more trouble than he can remember, but he likes it best when his thinking is so quick that he doesn’t run into the trouble in the first place. So while he wants to believe that the person standing in front of him is Rogue, he’s going to need more than the confirmation of his eyes.
‘Tell me something you would never tell them. Something they couldn’t get from your surface thoughts, something they’d never think to ask,’ he says, keeping one hand outstretched — warding Rogue off or reaching for him, he’s not sure which.
Rogue stares at him, in silence, lips parted in indecision or uncertainty. It’s their fake argument at the ball all over again. The Doctor’s hearts twist. It’s so familiar, and he’s remembered that moment over and over, and yet it’s exactly what the Chuldur would do. In this case, just like back then, not knowing what to say is the most dangerous and potentially disastrous reaction.
The Doctor wills him to speak — literally anything, because the anticipation, the not knowing, is gnawing a hole right through him. He needs to know. There has to be something that’s just theirs.
At last, Rogue swallows and says, ‘I just can’t get you out of my head, boy, your loving is all I think about.’
The Doctor’s eyes widen.
There is no way the Chuldur could know the significance of that song — no reason for Rogue to share it with them, especially when he’d been so embarrassed that the Doctor found his playlist. He could imagine them forcing the story of their meeting out of Rogue, but not that unnecessary detail. He also can’t imagine that they’d jump straight to lyrics from classic Earth pop to save themselves.
‘I just can’t get you out of my head, boy,’ Rogue continues, sincere and urgent in a way that turns silly repetition into a statement, a promise, a plea. The Doctor moves before he’s even finished thinking that this proves it’s really him. He strides forwards, his hands come up to either side of Rogue’s head, and he cuts him off mid-quote: ‘You’re more than I dare to —’
Rogue clutches at him, kissing back just as hard and frantic, his whole body trembling. The Doctor strokes a hand through his hair, then down his back, and he shudders harder. His fingers curl around the back of the Doctor’s neck, holding him close.
‘Doctor,’ he gasps when they break apart for a breath.
‘I’m here,’ he promises, and kisses Rogue again. ‘I’ve got you.’
‘So I guess we don’t have to roll for initiative?’ Rogue asks. He keeps his eyes closed, breathing hard. One of his hands is fisted in the back of the Doctor’s soft jumper as if he’s scared to let go, but the other is gentle as his thumb traces a sensitive spot behind his ear.
‘Rogue,’ the Doctor chuckles, putting their foreheads together, ‘I know it’s you, you don’t have to bring up all your top-secret interests.’
His eyes flicker open, bluer than blue, and though the Doctor can’t see it, he can hear his smirk as he says, ‘Cute that you think early twenty-first century dance-pop and tabletop games are all of them.’
‘I cannot wait to find out about the rest,’ the Doctor says, a smile blooming across his face. He leans back, careful not to go too far or to let Rogue go when it seems like he needs the connection. ‘But first, let’s get out of here.’
Rogue looks over his shoulder, towards the TARDIS, and lets out a shaky breath. ‘I have never been more happy to see a shed in my whole life.’
The Doctor hums a laugh, still smiling, and slides his hands down Rogue’s neck onto his arms, gently disentangling them until he can take hold of Rogue’s hands. ‘Yeah, she’s really not going to warm up to you if you keep calling her that.’
‘No? Well, we wouldn’t want that,’ Rogue says, ‘Not when she’s my ticket out of here.’
‘Ah, no: I’m your ticket out of here,’ the Doctor corrects him, stepping backwards and tugging Rogue after him.
‘My hero,’ Rogue says, teasing even though he clearly also means it. The Doctor pauses, and squeezes his hands a little tighter.
‘Actually, I think you’re mine,’ he murmurs, smile fading. He’s serious, too: if it wasn’t for Rogue, he would’ve spent all this time searching for Ruby, with the weight of her mother’s loss behind him. And, with all the love in the world, Ruby in a Regency-era dress and psychic earrings had much worse odds of surviving in an empty reality with five angry Chuldur than an experienced interstellar bounty hunter. Rogue stares at him in surprise, though, so the Doctor sighs and tells him: ‘You sacrificed yourself to save Ruby and save the world. You didn’t make me choose. And you had no way of knowing I’d come for you —’
‘I knew,’ Rogue says, stepping in close. His smile takes on a playful edge as he adds, ‘As if you could forget me.’
‘As if,’ the Doctor says, and lets the serious moment pass. ‘Come on.’
He starts walking backwards, and then lets go of one of Rogue’s hands so he can turn and they can run together to the TARDIS doors, cramming together to get through and into the bigger space inside. Rogue laughs as he grabs one of the smooth white railings, and there are tears in his eyes when the Doctor closes the door on the barren world that has been his prison. The Doctor leans on the door for a moment, watching him as they both catch their breath.
‘Thank you,’ Rogue says at last.
‘Yes, well: don’t do anything so brave and selfless ever again,’ the Doctor says, joking-but-not-joking as he pushes away from the door and starts towards the central console, but Rogue catches him by the hand on his way past, and with a firm tug he calls him back.
‘You liked it,’ he murmurs.
‘Oh, honey, you are trouble!’ the Doctor cries, grinning. The truth was, he had liked it — but he also doesn’t want to see a repeat of Rogue diving headfirst into danger on purpose. He isn’t sure his hearts can take it.
Rogue catches his other hand and lifts it to his lips. ‘You like that too.’
‘Pff, please,’ the Doctor starts, but he’s interrupted by Rogue, whose smile has disappeared.
‘You’re wearing my ring,’ he says, looking at the Doctor’s raised left hand in wonder. He cups it between both hands, but then he glances up, raises his brows. ‘On the wrong finger.’
‘Well,’ the Doctor says, drawing the word out to give himself time to think. ‘I didn’t like to assume. You might have gone down on one knee, love, but you never actually asked —’
‘I thought you already had,’ Rogue murmurs. He’s got that smile back, the soft one that the Doctor remembers from the TARDIS, after they’d talked about the people they’d lost and their potential future, right before they’d almost-kissed. Rogue strokes his thumb over the ring and down the Doctor’s little finger to the next knuckle. ‘Or didn’t you mean it, when you asked me to argue across the stars with you?’
Despite the fact that it’s a very serious question, the Doctor laughs. ‘Does that count as a proposal, where you’re from? Arguing, really?’
Rogue shakes his head a fraction, but he’s still wearing that same sweet, hopeful smile. ‘Maybe not. But it sort of felt like one.’
The Doctor lifts his other hand to Rogue’s cheek. ‘Suppose it sort of was. Not marriage, to be clear, but —’
‘I’ll take travel,’ Rogue interrupts, staring into the Doctor’s eyes, leaning closer. ‘All those worlds you promised to show me …’
The Doctor takes a breath, not sure whether he’s getting ready to speak or be kissed, but before either can happen, they’re interrupted by the proximity alarm. He twists around against the railing to look up at the screens along the wall above and beside the door, and hisses at the visual displayed on one of them: two Chuldur, scrambling over the rocks towards them.
‘Uh, starting with anywhere that isn’t here?’ Rogue suggests.
‘Yep, good idea,’ the Doctor agrees, and keeps hold of his hand as he runs for the central console. He programs in their route one-handed, but as he does, he can’t help but point out: ‘You didn’t kill them.’
‘What?’ Rogue asks. He lets the Doctor drag him to another panel without even trying to break free.
‘The Chuldur. You have your big old space gun with you, and don’t pretend that you don’t. You could’ve used it to defend yourself. You didn’t.’
‘Oh yes I did,’ Rogue says with a mirthless chuckle. ‘But you didn’t want them killed, so.’
The Doctor stops and looks at him for a second — this man, who said he was in it for the money but threw himself in harm’s way to save someone he didn’t even know, who spared his enemies’ lives even when they must have been trying to kill him, just because it was what the Doctor wanted.
‘What?’ Rogue asks.
Without looking, the Doctor reaches out just a little further. He flips the switches that control the TARDIS’s internal mavity and collision dampening, one off and the other on, then throws the lever to start their journey and tugs Rogue to him as the weightlessness takes hold.
He kisses Rogue as the TARDIS whisks them away from the barren dimension. Kisses him while they float through the worst of the ship’s juddering, erratic re-entry to the dimension they both call home. Keeps kissing him even after everything settles, until the jangle of an incoming transmission forces him to stop.
‘Wow,’ Rogue breathes as he blinks his eyes open. ‘Uh, does this normally happen, or …?’
‘No, no,’ the Doctor chuckles. They’re upside down, high up in the control room’s dome, spinning gently in an effortless waltz. It’s nice, but unfortunately it’s time to get their feet back on solid ground. He sighs and murmurs, ‘I should get that.’
‘Mm-hm,’ Rogue agrees, catching his bottom lip with his teeth as he smiles, as if he knows just how much the Doctor wants to keep kissing him. Which is unfair, because it makes him want to kiss him more.
‘Hang on just a second,’ he says, because they’re slowly drifting towards the wall.
‘Oh, I intend to,’ Rogue tells him, and squeezes his arms a little tighter.
‘Not helping,’ the Doctor scolds, but gets only an unapologetic smirk in return. ‘Right, here we go.’
He pushes off the curved wall, directing them down towards the nearest gantry. They both grab onto the railing and at last untangle from their embrace. The Doctor pats one of Rogue’s hands, then carefully fires himself towards the central console. He works his way around it, checking the scanners to make sure they’re in the right place, and is relieved to discover that everything worked. They’re good. They’re home. And Ruby’s calling.
‘Okay, mavity coming back in three, two, one,’ the Doctor says, giving a countdown so Rogue has a chance to get his feet under him. They both land without injuring themselves as it reactivates, and the Doctor turns his attention to the transmission. ‘And, time to share the good news.’
He answers Ruby’s call, and her face fills one of the screens. ‘Doctor? Where are you? I’ve been trying to get through but it kept saying,’ she puts on a robotic voice, ‘“The number you have dialled is unavailable,” and you should’ve been here an hour ago —’
‘Ruby, Ruby, Ruby,’ he interrupts. He glances up as Rogue makes his way down to the other side of the console. He can’t stop grinning. He can’t wait to tell her. ‘I’m so sorry I’m late, but I’ve been busy.’
‘Busy saving the world without me?’ she jokes.
‘Not the world,’ he murmurs, beckoning to Rogue just out of sight of the camera, ‘Just one person.’
Ruby shakes her head. ‘Okay, don’t keep me in suspense. Who is it? Anybody I know?’
‘I don’t know, is it anybody you know?’ the Doctor asks, and pulls Rogue into frame with him.
‘Oh my God!’ Ruby shrieks. ‘Rogue! Oh my God! Doctor, how did you find him? When did you find him? Where are you, are you in another dimension right now? Is he okay? Are you sure he’s not a Chuldur?’
The Doctor laughs. ‘Yes, I’m sure he’s not a Chuldur. As for the rest: we’re back home and on our way to you now. Five minutes, tops. I’ll explain everything.’
‘I’m going to hold you to that,’ she insists, pointing a finger at her phone, her grin enormous. ‘I can’t believe you found him. I want to hear everything!’
‘See you soon,’ the Doctor says and hangs up before she can bombard him with more enthusiastic questions.
‘I can’t believe it either, you know,’ Rogue murmurs.
‘Yeah, well,’ the Doctor says, turning to face him. They’re already close, and it’s the easiest thing in the world to put his hands on Rogue’s waist, slipping his fingers up under the bottom edge of the jacket to feel the fabric of his waistcoat. ‘I just couldn’t get you out of my head, either.’
Rogue laughs, surprised and embarrassed and delighted, and cups the Doctor’s face in his hands to kiss him. ‘You are never going to let me forget that, are you?’
‘Baby, you are the one who quoted Kylie to prove your identity, I did not make you do that!’ the Doctor grins.
‘You twisted my arm,’ Rogue protests. ‘I didn’t have a whole lot to go on, we don’t know each other that well!’
‘Yet,’ the Doctor says, like a promise, and kisses Rogue again. He can’t wait to fix that, too.