Chapter 3. The Cold Winds of Gallifrey
Night time, Gallifrey slept. Quietly I slipped from her arms and sliding my feet into soft carpet slippers tiptoed naked to the console. Habits are hard to break after seeming centuries of endless repetition. The universe summoned from the liquid screens and my eyes traveled from headline to headline searching out a hint to my eternal question. Some I followed a little, delving deeper just long enough to see the pattern to the flickering script and images but generally a glance was enough to allow me passage to the next. I had once used three screens, allowing peripheral vision to filter unnecessary information through my cortex before consciously focusing. I had learned that error quickly. Often what seems immaterial is vital and missing one clue in my search could cost too dearly.
I neither heard her stir nor rise but her hands descending on my shoulders were comforting rather than startling. I am not easily scared but often find being suddenly awakened from my contemplations disturbing. Her hands were different. Warm, pleasing, filled with affection and care. I recalled the first time she had touched me thus, casually in passing, a soft caress to my hair. No outlandish gesture, but delicate and intimate. I remembered how my soul had filled with joy and smiled sheepishly at my now exposed but normally hidden romanticism. I felt her stoop, the gentle variance in pressure on my trapezius signaling what my eyes could not capture. Her lips brushed the pinna of my left ear with a kiss and I felt the warmth of her breath close to my auditory canal.
"Hatter, I missed you."
The statement was simple but sometimes words encompass far more than their total letter count or syllable quantity. I leaned back, my shoulder blades touching the familiar indents on the chair that marked relaxation.
"Why didn't you wake me?"
I sighed. Not the negative escape of breathe that might indicate sadness or perplexity, but rather that slow expulsion that allowed body and mind to settle into overwhelming bliss.
"I like to listen to you sleep."
Utter understatement. I adored to hear her sleep and would pinch myself to keep from drifting to revel in that heavenly music.
"Do I snore?"
I could not help but laugh and momentarily perhaps in embarrassment I felt her hands start to withdraw. Reaching upwards quickly, gently I took those delicate beautiful digits in mine and kept them fast.
"If I could hear you no longer I think deafness would be a blessing vixen mine."
I did not need to see her face to know the look upon it. Never would she take compliments well, always modest, ever humble she had no concept of the treasure her presence was to me. Often I had told her, explained in over ambitious verbiage the vital nature of her companionship and service. Yet angel as she was the natural grace that exuded from each precious pore would not allow for self conceit in any form.
I felt her shiver and rising quickly wrapped my arms tight around her form. Both of us naked our bodies molded one against the other fitting in symmetry that even to my scientifically questioning mind could only be perceived as a divine construct. I felt her melt, perhaps for the third time, merge into my still somewhat athletic build like syrup enveloping fresh baked crumpet, covering me, sweetening me, completing me.
I kissed her forehead, a long soft kiss that meant as much as all the kisses that had come before, my lips attempting to sear the feelings that remained so undisclosed in my heart deep into her psyche. Her chin unwrapped itself from my chest and in a moment of blazing realization our eyes connected. Those eyes, deep, filled with joy, pouring care and passion equally mixed in perfect unison. Almond shaped, brown irises captured in orbs of breathtaking white. Our lips met, gently at first, brushing pouting against each other, then with an almost imperceptible grace our heads tilting simultaneously to the left to press hard in open embrace.
