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“How did he kill them all?”
Steven shifted. “He blew up his planet to stop the time war. All Daleks and all the people of Gallifray died. And he did it. He pushed the button.”
“Wow.” She rested a hand on his shoulder. “Is that why you sympathize with the Doctor? You’re the last ones left?”
His jaw flexed. “Yes, and we’re both guilty as hell.”
“Steven—”
“Don’t.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “You have no idea what happened over there, and I’m not telling you, so drop it.”
She bit her tongue. “Those men you lost. They were friends. Right?”
“Brothers.” He rested his head against the couch, staring up at her. What lurked in those depths—anger, pain, confusion, guilt—twisted her stomach in knots, and made her heart ping in sympathy. “All of them.”
She nodded, running her thumbs across the stubble on his cheeks. “And you loved them.” It wasn’t so much of a question as it was a statement. After all, she already had her answer. A man who grieved so thoroughly for someone else obviously cared.
He squared his jaw, not answering.
It was enough.
“So do you think they’d want you to continue punishing yourself, and blaming yourself? Would they expect you to live the rest of your life alone and shut off from any emotion, because you lived and they died?” she asked, keeping her voice soft.
His nostrils flared, and he took an uneven breath. “I don’t know, but it’s what I was determined to do.” He slowly slid his hand up her side, leaving a trail of tingling skin in his wake. “What I was doing—right up until you kissed me.”
“And now?” she asked, her breath hitching in her throat.
“Now I feel too much,” he admitted, going over her shoulder, across her chest, and burying his fingers in her hair. “I’m alive again, and happy, and it’s because of you. You showed me how to live again, and I don’t want you to ever stop.”
“I won’t,” she whispered. “I promise.”
“Don’t make promises. No one ever keeps them,” he said, his voice gruff.
“I do.” She ran her thumb over his lower lip. “I will.”
“Lauren. My Lauren.”
With a grimace, he pulled her face down to his and kissed her. They’d kissed a lot of times, in lots of different ways, over the last few days. But this time felt…new.
Like maybe, just maybe, he was starting to believe in her.
And himself.
Four days later, Lauren woke up slowly with a smile on her face. After their serious conversation about him forgiving himself, they’d opted for lighter conversation. And there had been laughing. So much laughing. He fulfilled one part of his promise to her—he made her belly hurt.
And it had been glorious.
Ever since she agre
ed to be his, he’d been the Steven he had been before he left for war. The one who joked around and spoke openly about everything. The man she fell for so long ago, when they’d been nothing more than children, and she was falling harder and faster now, as an adult.
Being with him was like a rush. Like riding a roller coaster when it’s approaching the top of the first hill. Just as it was about to plummet down, and she was going to scream, and her stomach was about to fly up in her throat. And when it was over, she was ready to get right back on and do it again.
She rolled over and reached out for him, but the bed was empty. Her lids drifted open lazily, and she searched the room. His shoes were gone, and so were his clothes. There was a note on the pillow.
Had to go to work early this morning. I couldn’t bear to wake you after keeping you up all night, so I didn’t. I’ll see you tonight. Save me some red velvet cupcakes.
Steven
