Title: Hands of A Stranger
Pairing: Tenth Doctor/Ross Jenkins
Fandom: Doctor Who
Table: 4, 50ficlets
Prompt: 1, 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 or Ross Jenkins, just borrowing them for a while. Please do not sue.
***How had he come to be so lucky as to have someone like the Doctor in his life? Ross asked himself for what felt like the thousandth time as he tightening his arms around the man sleeping next to him. It didn't seem possible that this could have happened to him.
It was so hard to believe that not too long ago, the Doctor had been a complete stranger to him, someone who he'd heard about and wasn't quite sure whether to believe in. He'd seemed mythical, larger than life, a man who could only exist in a fairy tale.
But the Doctor was real, Ross told himself with a smile, glancing down at the man in his arms. Only a few months ago, this man had been a stranger to him, someone he'd only heard vague descriptions of. And now, he was the most important person in Ross' life.
How was it possible to fall in love so quickly, and so completely? He'd been in love before; or at least, he had thought at the time that what he'd felt was love. Maybe he had been wrong about that. The emotions he'd felt then were nothing compared to his love for the Doctor.
The way they'd met was so improbable -- who would have believed that anyone could have a spaceship that traveled through time, and could come back into their past? But that was exactly what the Doctor had done, in order to save Ross from an unpleasant fate.
There were some who probably would have considered that fate heroic, Ross thought, wrinkling his nose. Maybe it was. After all, he'd died trying to save the world from the Sontarans, or so the Doctor had told him. But he was glad to have been given the choice not to die in that way.
And it had been his choice. The Doctor hadn't demanded that Ross come with him; he'd been presented with the choice to stay or go, though knowing that he was going to die in a not-too-distant future if he stayed had been a large factor in his decision.
He hadn't regretted that decision for a moment. As he'd spent more time with the Doctor, and fallen more hopelessly in love with the other man, it became harder and harder to remember that only a short time ago, the Time Lord had been a complete stranger.
Ross wasn't sure that he wanted to remember a time when he hadn't known the Doctor. When he had been a soldier, he'd kept the fact that he was gay a secret, not really trusting anyone to be all right with his orientation. But it hadn't been easy to hide.
And it had hurt to feel that he had to keep such a vital part of who he was locked away. It had made him feel like a stranger to the people he'd wanted to consider his friends; they had known the part of him that he wanted them to see, but they hadn't known him as he really was.
Now, he didn't have to hide any more, he told himself, a smile spreading over his face. It was one of the most wonderful things about being with the Doctor, the sense of freedom that he had to be exactly who he was, with no hidden secrets.
He had put his future, and his very life, into the Doctor's hands on the day they'd met, Ross reflected, letting his mind roam back to that first meeting with the Time Lord. Most people would have cautioned him against doing so, but he'd known that it was the right thing to do.
Just one look at the Time Lord, and his heart had begun to beat more rapidly in his chest. His breath had come quickly, his eyes following the other man's every gesture. He hadn't been able to tear his eyes away; he'd been utterly mesmerized.
There had been no time to waste, he'd been told; he didn't want to be chosen as the guard who would be with him during that harrowing time. If he was, he would die. The Doctor had made it clear that Ross had a choice, but he'd also been adamant about wanting the young man to come with him.
Ross hadn't hesitated. He'd thrown caution to the winds, gone with the Doctor -- and been glad every day that he had. He felt sorry for the person who would take his place in the Doctor's future, and who died at the hands of the Sontarans -- but he was glad that person wasn't him.
When he was a child, he'd always been told to avoid strangers. He wasn't supposed to talk to anyone he didn't know, and if a man had held out a hand and told him to come away somewhere, he would have gone running in the other direction as fast as he could move.
But for once, he was glad that he'd listened to his heart instead of following the advice that he'd always been given. Putting his life and future in the hands of a stranger had been the best thing he'd ever done. And the man he'd gone with was a stranger no longer.
No, giving himself into the hands of a stranger hadn't been a bad idea at all, Ross thought as he pulled the covers higher and snuggled down under them next to the Doctor. In fact, it had been the best choice he'd ever made, and he would make it again without a second thought.
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