Title: Love Sick
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: Tenth Doctor/Arthur Eddington
Fandom: Doctor Who/Einstein and Eddington
Rating: PG-13
Table: 5, sound_of_drums
Prompt: 13, Heart Sick
Author's Note: Continuation of A Different Man.
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 Arthur Eddington. Please do not sue.

***

The Doctor awakened with the sun on his face, blinking as the bright light streamed through the window. He wasn't in his usual bed, was he? he thought, his memories of the night before still slightly fuzzy with sleep. This didn't feel like his bed ....

In a flash of clarity, he remembered all that had happened last night. He had finally told Arthur the truth about who he was -- and Arthur had accepted him. Well, at least he thought so. Arthur had seemed so bewildered by everything he was saying.

Would the other man think that he was some sort of lunatic now that he knew the truth? Could he actually accept the fact that the Doctor was John Smith, somewhere deep inside -- but that he was in actuality an alien from a far-distant galaxy?

Of course Arthur wouldn't be able to accept that fact easily, the Time Lord told himself with a sigh, sitting up in bed. The fact that the other man wasn't here in bed beside him should probably attest to that fact. He more than likely didn't want them to be in the same bed.

He'd seemed to be all right with the revelations last night -- but then, he could have been too tired to really understand what he was hearing, or he could have put down the words that the Doctor had spoken as a dream, now that they were facing the bright light of day.

The Doctor felt heartsick about how he had told Arthur -- surely there must have been some other way to burst the truth upon him, a way that would have made it simpler. It couldn't be easy for him to take in all that he'd been told so quickly.

But how else should he have been told? There had really been no other way but to give the man he loved the truth about himself other than the way he'd chosen to do it. He certainly couldn't have done it publicly; no, he'd done it in the least painful way possible.

Where was Arthur? The Doctor looked around the room, but he didn't see clothes flung anywhere; there was no evidence that Arthur had ever been in this bed with him last night, that they'd declared their feelings and held each other close as they slept.

What if Arthur had already decided that he was some sort of madman, and had called people from some insane asylum to come here and take him away? The Doctor's muscles tensed at the thought; he was almost ready to spring out of bed and run to the window.

No, he told himself fiercely, frowning at the thought. No. Arthur wouldn't do that to him. He might indeed think that the Doctor was mad, but he wasn't the sort of person who would call people to take him away without giving him fair warning of it.

If that wasn't the case, then where was he? The Doctor was fairly sure that Arthur wouldn't have gotten out of bed without waking him if there was nothing wrong; the other man had probably needed time away from him to digest what he'd been told the night before.

The Doctor's hearts felt as though they were twisting around each other in his chest; he had to find out where Arthur was, had to talk to the other man again privately. He had to convince Arthur that what he'd said was the truth, and not some far-flung flight of fancy.

He flung the covers back and swung his long legs out of bed, feeling vertigo overtake him for a fraction of a second. Why should he feel so nervous? If Arthur still needed convincing, he'd just have to find a way to do so, that was all.

Standing up, the Doctor reached for his dressing gown, shrugging his arms into it and drawing the soft fabric around his naked body. Strange that he and Arthur had spent last night in bed with each other, and yet they hadn't made love, he reflected.

Before he could move towards the door, it opened, and Arthur came into the room. He was also in his dressing gown, but he'd obviously bathed and shaved. He looked fresh and awake, and much more ready to face whatever the day might bring than the Doctor was.

The Time Lord couldn't speak for a moment; all he could do was stare at Arthur, the sight of the man he loved taking his breath away. How could he keep going if Arthur didn't believe in what he'd been told, if this man didn't want to be a part of his life any longer?

He had to stop acting like a love sick idiot, the Doctor told himself firmly. Yes, he loved Arthur, but that might not be enough. The other man's feelings for him might not have survived what he'd been told; there was a good chance that he would tell the Doctor to leave.

Those worries were dispelled when Arthur smiled at him, coming across the room to take the Doctor's hands in his. "John," he said softly, his gaze meeting the Time Lord's, those dark eyes searching his face as though Arthur was trying to look into his soul.

"I shouldn't call you that, should I?" he said, his voice still soft. "Would you prefer Jack? Or is that not your real name, either? I'll call you whatever you think is best." His words didn't sound at all resentful, or disbelieving. Or like the words of a man who was walking away.

"You can call me John, if you want," the Doctor told him, his own voice trembling slightly. Was this what he thought it was? Had Arthur fully and completely accepted what he'd been told? It seemed that he had, but he had to be sure of that.

"I'm usually called the Doctor," he continued, trying to smile. "But I can see where you wouldn't be able to call me that in front of Winnie, or other people you know. So maybe it should be Jack while we're still here, just to keep people from getting confused."

"I hate to hide the fact that you really are John -- but everyone here knows that John is dead," Arthur murmured, shaking his head. "They all know what I went through when I found out about his death. It would be impossible to explain the truth to them. Even to my sister."

"So we'll just have to keep pretending that I'm not really John Smith," the Doctor acceded, still feeling sick at heart about the deception. He still wasn't entirely sure if Arthur fully understood what he'd been told, or if he was just accepting things at face value.

"Arthur -- you do understand that while John is a part of me, I'm not entirely him, don't you?" the Doctor asked, keeping his voice low. He wasn't at all sure what the reply would be, and even less sure that he was ready to hear it.

"I think I do," Arthur said slowly, nodding. "I haven't worked it all out in my head yet, but I'm willing to accept what you say as the truth, John. I know that you aren't the man I fell in love with -- but I'm already falling in love with who you are now."

"It's probably going to take a while for it all to sink in," the Doctor agreed with a soft sigh. "But I swear to you that it's all true, Arthur, even if it's a bit hard to fathom at the moment. I hope that you'll eventually be able to understand everything that I've told you."

"I think I understand it now -- at least the gist of it," Arthur told him, squeezing his hands gently. "And I believe you, John .... Doctor. Does it really matter if I grasp every point? As long as we're together, I think that's the most important thing."

The Doctor nodded, feeling a wave of relief sweep over him. Arthur might not fathom all of the meaning behind what he'd been told quite yet, but he would. After all, he was an intelligent man. And it was a unique situation, one that he'd never have thought to find himself in.

He would easily be able to grasp all that the Doctor had said to him, once he could sit down and concentrate on it -- and once it had been explained even more fully. But he was right -- as long as the two of them were together, that was what mattered most.

There was no reason for him to feel that he hadn't told Arthur all about himself in a "correct" way. There was no right or wrong way to break that kind of news -- all he could have done was tell Arthur the truth, and hope that he would be believed and understood.

It seemed that was indeed what had happened. The heartsick feeling was dissipating; the Doctor was sure that they would somehow be able to make things work, even though he knew that his greatest challenge was still ahead of him.

"Don't worry, John," Arthur whispered, leaning forward to brush his lips across the Doctor's. "We'll find a way to work everything out. You're here with me, and that's the important thing. I feel as though you've managed to put my life back together again."

The Doctor moved into his lover's embrace, though he could feel an uneasiness start to creep into the back of his mind. It wasn't going to be easy to convince Arthur to leave his life on Earth and come out into the stars -- but somehow, he was going to have to do just that.

How he would manage it was something that he would worry about later, the Doctor thought to himself as their lips met. For the moment, he was going to enjoy his time with Arthur, and hope that he could find a way to make their future work out for the best.

***