Ultimatum

She'd given him an ultimatum—either realize that she couldn't and wouldn't tell him everything or find another companion, someone who didn't know about his travels.

It stung, but he deserved it. He'd locked her in the TARDIS and then gone off into Van Statten's museum alone. And gotten captured. Dahlia had nearly died all because he wouldn't trust her. The Dalek would've died on its own anyway. Instead, he had let his anger get the best of him and people had died.

He wondered why she even gave him an option at all.

Green II

Rationally, he knew that Dahlia was only playing the part she need to so that they wouldn't be executed. But that didn't stop his jealousy from showing.

He had just wanted to apologize, maybe even put a few moves on Dahlia. Ya know, show her a romantic time.

Then, they had gotten captured. And the King had proposed to Dahlia. She had come up with a miraculous plan right on the spot. Really, she had. He just wished it hadn't included her pretending to schmooze with the King.

Hot rage boiled inside him whenever he thought about it. It wasn't fair to Dahlia for him to keep taking it out on her, but she was the only person within reach. And sometimes it was easier to argue with her than to deal with his own issues.

Deserving

She didn't expect anything of him. Not stability. Not children. Not even a spoken statement of his feelings for her. He didn't deserve her, but Void take him if he wouldn't try to.

Ecstasy

Her legs over his shoulders. Her thighs cradling his face. Her taste coating his mouth and tongue. Her moans filling the air. Her inner walls clenching around his tongue as she came.

He could die happy here.

Captain

Jack Harkness wasn't a bad man. Stupid and overly friendly, sure, but most people from the 51st century were. The Doctor had nothing personal against him. Though, it would be nice if he stopped flirting with Dahlia at every opportunity. The Doctor didn't want to admit it, but it brought out his insecurities about his and Dahlia's relationship. He was too old for her and an alien. Surely, she would have an easier time being involved with Jack than with him.

But, as always, Dahlia assured him that there was nothing to fear. She wasn't going anywhere, and no amount of flirting from attractive strangers would change that.

The Doctor vowed to stop assuming the worst in every situation. Dahlia could not only handle herself, as she had proven time and time again, but that she could handle most other people in her way, too.

But he would give the threesome some serious thought.

Question

He shouldn't have asked that. He shouldn't have asked that. Heshouldn'thaveaskedHeshouldn'thaveaskedHeshouldn'thaveaskedHeshouldn'thaveasked.

Too late now.

Tricked

He should've known that the extrapolator was a trap. No way would Margaret not think of every possible scenario. Now, Dahlia was a hostage and the TARDIS was being pulled apart. He needed a plan and he needed it now.

Note

She was dead. Her last act had been to give him a small piece of paper.

"Doctor," Jack said, "what does it say?"

The Doctor stared blankly at him. He should read the note. It was her last act, so he should honor her. He unfolded the paper with hands made steady by shock.

I'm not dead. Daleks.

Return

She had come back for him. Of course, she had. Why had he ever doubted her? But not only had she come back for him, but she had looked into the heart of the TARDIS to do it. He could feel the Vortex energy burning through her. Her eyes glowed with golden fire. There was no fury on her face, just cool determination. Her words and will were made fact with a wave of her hand.

She offered him Gallifrey. Everything he could ever want offered with the easy grace that Dahlia accomplished everything with. His goddess, his Dahlia.

New

New teeth, new body, new mind, new Doctor. Same Dahlia. Same wonderful woman looking up at him as he rambles on about the strangest things. He'd show her the universe. Anything she wanted she would get. Anything she wanted to see he would get her there. Amazing, beautiful, brilliant, glorious Dahlia Tombew. She was shouting at him. something about Earth? Going to Earth! She wanted to go to Earth? Then, they'd go to Earth!

Wrong

Something was wrong with Dahlia. Her cardigan was missing. She said that she'd left it downstairs, but Dahlia never left her clothing anywhere unless cultural customs forced her to. She always dressed in clothes that were weather-appropriate so that she wouldn't have to continuously fuss with her clothing.

Something was very wrong at this hospital. They'd done something to Dahlia, and The Doctor would find out what.

Fear

Never again. He couldn't do that ever again. He couldn't leave her to face an enemy alone again. He should have demanded to stay with her. Two would have been better against the Wolf than one. He knew she had some sort of weapon, but that didn't matter. She could have died. For one horrible moment, he thought he'd lost her, like on Satellite 5. To watch her die . . . No, he wouldn't think about it. He wouldn't let it happen.

Owned

Dahlia had fallen asleep quickly as they laid in their post-coital bliss. The Doctor, though exhausted, stayed awake just so he could lazily trace the marks decorating his body.

He hadn't expected to like being marked, let alone crave it, but he did. He burned with the need for Dahlia's nails, teeth, mouth, anything on him, leaving red and purple marks on his body that would hopefully stay for days. He wanted them higher. Dahlia had focused on areas that would be covered by his clothes. He knew it was probably a subconscious choice; she didn't want him to feel trapped or as if she expected anything from him. But oh, did he want her to take. To own him. To mark him, so that everyone they met would know who he belonged to, who he would always return to.