Title: Touched By Moonlight
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: Tenth Doctor/Arthur Eddington
Fandom: Doctor Who/Einstein and Eddington
Rating: PG-13
Table: slash_me_twice
Prompt: 79, Moonlight
Author's Note: Continuation of Like A Friend.
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 turned over in his bed for what seemed like the hundredth time that night, trying to find a cool spot on the pillow. He'd been trying to go to sleep for hours now, but he was more wide-awake than he'd been since he came to this time.

He was acutely aware of the fact that Arthur was in the bedroom just across the hallway from his own; it was almost as though he could feel the other man's presence, that Arthur was somehow reaching out to him in some private, unseen way.

Was that the part of him that was still John Smith trying to find the other man? Was their connection so strong, so intimate, that it had led him back to this time? Had that connection survived the physical transformation that had made John Smith only a memory?

He had never been the type of man who believed in such things -- but it seemed to be the only answer for the attraction that existed between Arthur and himself.

He'd only been here for two days now, and already the temptation to tell Arthur everything had become nearly irresistible. It had been so hard to hold back the words, but he knew that he had to. This wasn't something he could just spill out indiscriminately.

Besides, if he did, Arthur would never believe him. He couldn't very well say that he was John Smith, a different man in the very same body. Arthur would think he was barmy; it would be the most sure way of pushing the other man out of his life forever.

He wasn't going to take that risk. Somehow, he was going to find a way of telling Arthur the truth, and keeping the other man by his side. He would have to come up with some plausible explanation, one that Arthur would be able to accept.

The truth was too far-fetched; someone from Arthur's time would never understand it, much less believe it. Of course, Arthur wasn't like other men in this time period, but it was still something that would be hard for him to swallow. It would have to be proved beyond a shadow of a doubt.

Turning over onto his back, he let out a deep sigh, staring up at the ceiling. Lying here thinking of Arthur and turning over the problem of how to make him believe the truth wasn't going to help him fall asleep any more quickly.

What he wanted was to see Arthur, to watch him sleep .... to be beside him, in bed with him, their bodies as close as they could get.

The Doctor almost snorted at the mental picture that thought presented. That wasn't going to happen, not until he could make Arthur believe the truth and accept that he was, in some ways, the man he'd fallen in love with and still mourned for.

He knew that Arthur was attracted to him; he'd seen the way that the other man looked at him, the longing in those dark eyes. But was that only because he reminded Arthur of his lost love, or was there something more growing between them?

The Time Lord wanted to believe that Arthur cared about him for himself -- though of course, the object of his affections had no idea who he really was. That would be even harder for him to believe, and the Doctor wouldn't blame him for backing away.

There had to be a way to make Arthur see the truth, to break things to him gently and bring him to a realization of what had happened.

What would the other man do if the Doctor went to his room now, tonight, and talked to him about all that had passed between them? Would he believe that he was indeed talking to John Smith, or would he be suspicious and think that the Doctor had done away with John?

No, Arthur wasn't that sort of a person. He saw the good in everyone -- he wouldn't jump to some wild conclusion that his beloved had been taken from him by foul play. Besides, the Doctor was sure that Arthur knew him well enough not to see him in that kind of light.

The Doctor sat up in bed, throwing back the covers. He wasn't going to lie here and think about Arthur. He was going to see the other man, even if he couldn't get as close as he wanted to. Surely there was nothing untoward about peeking into his room, to make sure that he was all right.

Maybe that would be frowned upon, but he could say that he'd had a terrible dream that had involved Arthur and was reassuring himself of the other man's safety if he was caught.

Oh, all right, so maybe it wouldn't be a very plausible explanation, the Doctor told himself as he got out of bed and reached for his dressing gown. Shrugging his arms into the sleeves, he wrapped the fabric around himself, a shiver coursing through his body.

Suppose he was caught? Would Arthur and Winnie feel as though he'd somehow abused the privilege of being allowed to stay with them, and insist that he leave the house? That would make it much more difficult for him to talk to Arthur.

That thought almost stopped him from going to the other man's room. The last thing he wanted was for their burgeoning friendship to have any sort of a setback; he wanted that friendship to deepen, for Arthur to acknowledge the attraction between the two of them.

He would, the Doctor told himself, heading for the door of his room. Sooner or later, he would have to do so. The attraction between them was too strong for either of them to deny; in time, Arthur would have to gather his courage and take a step forward.

But if that attraction Arthur felt was only because he looked like John Smith .... the Doctor closed his eyes, his hand resting on the doorknob but not turning it. If the attraction was for John Smith and not for him, then they were doomed before they had even started.

He was John Smith. Somewhere inside of him, parts of John still existed. He wouldn't feel this strong emotional pull towards Arthur if John wasn't still a part of who he was.

Arthur would have to understand that. He didn't know how he was going to explain it, but he would. He would make Arthur realize that John was still there in him, that the man he'd fallen in love with wasn't completely gone. There had to be a way.

Opening the door, he padded on bare feet across the hallway to Arthur's door, surprised to find it ajar. Maybe Arthur had gone out of the room -- or maybe he always slept with his door slightly cracked, in case there should be some emergency he had to arise and take care of.

Pushing the door open, he stepped quietly into the room, the bright moonlight spilling in through the window making him blnk. It took a few moments for his eyes to adjust, to focus on the bed near the window and the figure asleep under the covers.

The moonlight washed over Arthur's face, picking out gleams of gold in his hair, illuminating his pale skin and shadowing the strong planes of his sleeping face.

The Time Lord swallowed hard, resisting the urge to step towards the bed and whisper Arthur's name. He'd never seen anyone look so utterly desirable -- or so vulnerable. He wanted to take Arthur into his arms and tell him that his love wasn't lost, that John was right here with him.

But he couldn't do that. He could only stand here and look at Arthur, watch over him while he was sleeping and hope that he could find a way to break down the walls of reserve that this man had erected so carefully around his heart.

He didn't know how long he stood there watching Arthur sleep, wishing that he could be that moonlight and have the freedom to touch the man he was rapidly falling in love with. The image of Arthur wrapped in the silvery glow of the moon would remain etched on his hearts for centuries to come.

Finally, with one last longing look, he closed the door quietly, going back across the hall to his own room. He went to the window, resting his head against the glass and closing his eyes. There was no moonlight here, on this side of the house; all was dark and silent.

How much longer could he go on without telling Arthur how he felt? How much longer could he wait for the other man to take a step towards him? It was becoming more and more obvious that he would have to be the one to make the first move.

If he had to, then he would. The Doctor sighed, raising his head and moving away from the window. As he removed his dressing gown and slid back under the covers, he instinctively turned towards the door, holding that vision of Arthur touched by moonlight in his mind's eye as he drifted off to sleep.

***