Title: Gentle Stranger
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: Doctor/?
Fandom: Doctor Who
Rating: R
Table: doctorwho_100
Prompt: 25, Strangers
Author's Note: This fic was inspired by The Captain & Tennille's song "Gentle Stranger."
Disclaimer: This is entirely a product of my own imagination, and I make no profit from it. I do not own the Tenth Doctor. Please do not sue.

***

Gentle stranger,
You came into my life when I was feeling sad
And I looked up that day
To see your face
Shining in the sun

Where had he been when he'd first met his stranger? On some planet that he couldn't remember the name of, which was odd in itself. That had been one of the most moving experiences of his life; he should be able to remember the name of the place he'd been in.

He'd decided to go to an interplanetary bar, which wasn't something he did often -- but he'd felt the need of something more than his thoughts to keep him company, and being around other living, breathing beings had seemed to be the very thing.

Of course, he hadn't intended to meet someone and let them take him to their room, but then, he'd done several things that night he hadn't intended to do.

He'd looked up to see that face -- and something in him had reached out, something that he hadn't known was so in need. And, to his surprise, he'd felt that the other man was reaching out to him as well, answering his need with a look, a smile.

What had driven him to take solace with a stranger? Even after all this time, he still didn't know. He had been feeling particularly low at that point; maybe that had been the main reason. He'd been alone for what had seemed like far too long.

Still, feeling lonely was no explanation; he was used to loneliness. It had been a part of his life for so long that it had practically seeped into the fiber of who he was; his loneliness was a part of him, one that he actually felt comfortable with after all these centuries.

But the sadness of losing too many companions got to him more than he wanted to admit, and he'd ended up sitting there, at a table in the corner, looking around him and wishing that he was able to join in the gaiety of the people in the place.

Your eyes were kind
And you spoke softly to me
You were just passing through
Tomorrow you would be gone

The stranger had sat down at the table across from him, giving him a look that had seemed to pierce through him, through the walls that he'd built up around himself, the protective armor that he always wore, laying his soul bare with one look.

He'd taken the Doctor for someone who belonged on this planet at first, telling him that he was a traveler, just passing through and not planning to stay. It was as though he was searching for some way of saying that he couldn't offer more than that one night.

Had he known that from the beginning? He'd felt something in himself reaching out to the man from the moment their eyes first met; if he could have taken him as a companion, he'd have done so, no questions asked, no second guessing.

But that hadn't been possible; he'd been disabused of that notion as soon as it had come into his mind. And yet somehow, it hadn't seemed to matter.

There had been an instantaneous thread of understanding between the two of them from the first words they'd exchanged; looking at that man across the table in the flickering candlelight, the Doctor had known what would happen between them.

But we shared conversation and wine
And talked of many things

How long had they sat there talking, not giving their names, but not needing them? It had felt like hours, though it had probably been for a fairly short time. The Doctor had almost felt as though he'd found someone who understood him -- understood his loneliness.

That was all too rare, and he'd found himself reaching out for the other man -- not physically, but emotionally, as though they could have something beyond this night, something that would last, even though he knew that it wouldn't happen.

Still, that didn't stop him from wishing that it would somehow miraculously happen, that this man would tell him that they could be together.

Of course, that hadn't happened. They'd sipped wine, and talked of their lives in a way that didn't give away as much as it hid. Snippets of what they did, what they'd seen, without really telling the other much about their lives at all.

And only hinting at the loneliness that was hidden inside both of them, the feelings that they covered up with a mask of affability and didn't dare to let anyone else see -- though neither of them could stop those feelings from peeking through with a few words, an expression.

He hadn't questioned the other man when he'd said that he had a room for the night next door -- and that he'd be honored if the Doctor would share it. That had been all the invitation he'd needed; he'd thrown propriety to the winds and followed his desires.

And on that night I slept softly in your arms
And you kept me warm
You kept me from harm
You gave me love

He hadn't expected to stay in this man's room after the lovemaking. He'd thought that they would each take what they needed, and then be on their way -- that whatever they'd had so briefly would only be a pleasant interlude for both of them.

But that hadn't happened. When he'd started to move out of his lover's arms, feeling his hearts clench in his chest at the thought of leaving, he'd been held against that broad chest, a soft voice in his ear asking him not to leave, to stay for the rest of the night.

And he'd been only too happy to do so, surrendering himself to that loving embrace. Loving? Yes, it had been. He wouldn't have thought that someone he'd just met, someone whose name he didn't even know, could have made him feel so loved .... so wanted.

It hadn't been what he'd expected at all. But he'd been grateful for that embrace; it was exactly what he'd needed, and it was as though this man had sensed that need.

He'd needed to feel that he was safe, if only for one night; that there was somewhere he belonged, someone who wanted him to be with them. It didn't matter if they couldn't stay; what mattered was they'd given him shelter in their arms when he'd been most in need of it.

He couldn't remember much about that night beyond falling asleep in the stranger's arms; but he could remember that as he'd drifted off, he had felt safe, more so than he did when he was in his own bed on his ship.

And more than that -- he'd felt loved, that blanket of warmth and caring wrapped all around him, the security of being in someone's heart as well as in their lulling him into the first peaceful sleep he could remember having for a very long time.

Yes, I knew you'd be leaving in the morning
By the dawn you'd be going on your way
But we can never know about tomorrow
And I know you made me beautiful, beautiful
Today

He'd known, even as he drifted into sleep in the other man's arms, that he would probably awake alone in the morning, that this wasn't going to last for more than one night. The comfort of these arms wouldn't be his forever.

But maybe something would happen to stop time for the two of them; maybe during the night, his lover would have some epiphany that would make him stay. There were never any certainties, never any guarantees about what the future could bring.

For tonight, it didn't matter what would happen in the morning. It didn't matter what anyone else thought of him -- or even what he'd been thinking of himself for what seemed like an interminable time. This man had made all of that seem far away, of no consequence.

Did it really matter how others saw him, as long as he was beautiful in this man's eyes? No, not really. He was where he wanted to be, at least for this one night.

He couldn't remember ever having felt so free, so abandoned, so open to being who he was with no reservations. He would never have thought that a stranger could bring out that side of himself, that someone he didn't know could see so deeply into his inner being.

And he could remember thinking, as his eyes closed and he gave himself up to the safety of sleeping in his lover's arms, that no matter what the next day brought, his life had been changed irrevocably. He would never be this same after this night.

Gentle stranger,
I'm now returned again to lonely days and nights
But now i can not feel the pain so much

He'd been right about waking up in a lonely bed. He'd disentangled himself from the arms of sleep to find himself alone -- the only indication that anyone had been with him the night before the feeling that still lingered, in his body and in his hearts.

The Doctor knew that the memory of the man who'd given so freely of himself the night before would always be there, etched crystal-clear into his mind. He'd never forget that face, that voice, the way those arms had felt around him.

And he would never forget the feeling of being wrapped in a love so strong that it didn't need names or words for them to know that it existed.

How could anyone who didn't know him have fallen in love with him, when they'd never even exchanged names? Before the night that had just passed, he wouldn't have believed it was possible. And he certainly wouldn't have believed that he could feel the same way.

Maybe what he felt wasn't love. Maybe it was merely gratitude to someone who had been there for him, who'd reached out for him when he'd needed it, who'd given him the love that he'd so desperately searched for over the centuries.

No, that was too simple. What he felt was much more complicated than that; if he wanted to put the name of "love" on his emotions, then he could do so with an easy conscience. After all, no one would ever know of his feelings, other than the man who shared them.

It almost shocked him to realize that the pain of loneliness that had seemed to settle and linger around the region of his hearts was conspicuously absent.

For a memory of you
Comes and wraps itself around me in the dark
And in my dreams
I sleep softly in your arms

He'd felt that way for quite a while after he'd dressed and made his way back to the Tardis. He hadn't looked for his elusive lover anywhere; he knew that the stranger was gone from his life, leaving only the memory of the single night they'd shared behind.

At first, he'd thought of asking questions about the mysterious man, but he'd decided against it. If he had wanted the Doctor to know more about him, he would have offered up the information on his own; it seemed a violation to look for answers that hadn't been freely given.

Did he really need to know? He'd asked himself that question more than once over the time that had followed. And in the end, the answer was an emphatic no. All he needed to know was that for one magical night, he'd been loved.

That night had haunted his dreams for a long time afterwards; every time he closed his eyes and sank into slumber, it was as though he could feel those strong arms around him, hear that soft voice whispering soft words into his ear.

His dreams had been filled with what had happened between them on that night, and in the mornings he'd awoken with a smile on his face, the memory still alive in his mind.

There had been times when he'd found himself wishing that it had been more than a single night, when he'd wanted more than what he'd been given. But he pushed that thought firmly away from him, resolved to be grateful for what he'd been given.

And I am warm
I am safe from harm
I am loved

What he'd been given that night was so much more than what he'd asked for. The love that he'd been wrapped in had been given freely, with no strings attached, no questions asked. It hadn't mattered who he was, what he'd done, how he lived his life.

All that had mattered was that the two of them had found each other -- even if all they could be granted was a single night that they would each treasure for the rest of their lives.

He still thought about his stranger when he was drifting off to sleep, wondering who the man was and where he was. Maybe even at this moment he was offering some other lost soul his strength, his love, giving of himself to someone who needed him.

He'd been lucky to be the recipient of that love, at a time when he'd needed it most. The only regret he had was that he'd never been able to properly thank the man who had given him that support, and that he didn't think he would ever be able to.

They'd met and parted as strangers, and the Doctor knew that was what they would remain. They had no place in each other's lives -- only in their respective memories and their dreams. And, of course, in their hearts.

The Doctor sighed, closing his eyes and letting the memory sweep over him again. Whenever he thought of his stranger, he could still feel that overwhelming love that had reached out to him, keeping him safe and warm when he'd needed it the most.

He might never have that again -- but he'd had it for one night, and that memory would linger for the rest of his life. In a strange way, that was enough; the knowledge that somewhere, there was a man who was thinking of him with love.

And that love was returned, the Doctor thought, smiling inwardly. Maybe one day, if he was lucky, he'd see his stranger again and have the chance to show just how much.

***