Ian was washing out the last of the graduated cylinders and tidying the desks when Barbara appeared in his classroom doorway. She looked wistful, and maybe a little bit sad. These days, she looked that way more often than not.

"We covered Marco Polo today, in class," she said, simply. She entered and shut the door softly behind her with a sigh.

Ian nodded, sympathetic. How could anyone else ever really know how little was captured on the pages of their history textbooks? Barbara could never make her students understand how the Gobi had looked and felt back then. She could never explain how exotic the food had smelled at the Imperial Palace in Peking, and would never be able to describe the strength of character Marco Polo had displayed in the face of danger and the treachery of Kublai Kahn's soldiers. She wasn't supposed to know any of that. But how could she, a lover of learning, be content teaching from notes and books alone, now that she had visited history and tasted the stars?

Despite their relief and joy at being home again, at last, Ian and Barbara both had to admit that things had been difficult for the past few weeks. Strangely enough, it had been much harder since the commotion surrounding their return had settled down. Ian supposed it was largely because they had no more crises to hold their attention.

Their homecoming had, in fact, caused quite a racket. They had been gone for two years. What on Earth were they meant to have told people?

At first they had resolved to tell the truth. Lying was simply too stressful and complicated. So they had been totally honest, prefacing each chapter of their bizarre tale with a weary acknowledgement that it all sounded insane.

The fact that they corroborated one another's stories even when questioned in isolation, and the supporting evidence of their student Susan Foreman's apparent vanishing into thin air, ultimately led the police and doctors to believe they'd been kidnapped and experimented on with illegal hallucinogens and hypnosis. The government was quick to suspect Russian involvement. Mistrust and fear governed international relations, and Ian and Barbara had found themselves awash in a sea of deep investigations and exhausting psychiatric testing.

They thought it would never end. But then, at last they met with one final agent, a captain from a government branch Ian had never even heard of. And what a strange meeting that had been. The young man had worn no uniform, calling on them instead in street clothes that were at least twenty years out of fashion, the sort of stuff Ian's father would have worn when he was Ian's age. The man hadn't acted much like a government agent either. He smiled brightly and spoke with an American accent. Compared to most of the sour, clinical people they'd been dealing with, this fellow had been an absolute breath of fresh air- not only apparently willing to believe everything they had said, without questioning a single one of the obvious impossibilities, but also friendly, personable, and disconcertingly charming.

"It's truly an honor to meet you two," The dashing captain had said with a warm handshake and sincere smile for each of them.

"You know, we've talked to quite a few people lately and you're certainly the first to say that. Most people talk to us like unruly preschoolers," Barbara had remarked, and they had all chuckled.

The captain's blue eyes twinkled at Barbara, and she blushed. Ian felt uncharacteristically jealous, though he couldn't figure out why.

The friendly man asked all sorts of questions, but none of the ones they had expected. Not once did he ask what the "so-called alien creatures" they had encountered were like, and not once did he ask how they could have understood the speech of all the foreigners they had encountered, on Earth and beyond, when they conversed. He didn't try to pry any secrets from the future out of them, and he didn't ask if they could try and recall any details of the ship or aid in the construction of a similar vessel. Instead, he wanted to hear the countless, tiny, personal details. He asked for their descriptions and impressions of the TARDIS, to learn about the Doctor's demeanor and personality, the sorts of tools he had used, and the story of Susan's departure from their company. He'd been intrigued by the tales of Steven Taylor and Vicki, and shuddered to hear about their ill-fated excursion to Skaro and the first of of their chilling encounters with the Daleks.

"I think,' Ian had remarked in the middle of that particular tale, "That was when he decided he liked us after all."

Barbara laughed and agreed. "Oh to be sure. Before that we were nothing but a terrible nuisance, as far as he was concerned. But encountering a Dalek army, Captain. That's a sobering thing, I assure you. It changes your perspective on life in ways you couldn't possibly imagine."

The blue eyed man had laughed quietly at that.

"You're telling me," he muttered.

Barbara looked cross.

"Don't mock me, Captain. Small differences between people aren't such a big problem, when one is confronted with such evil. I do believe they're truly evil, those Daleks."

The young agent had only nodded absently, seemingly lost in his own mind.

"The Doctor and the Daleks, meeting for the first time..." he sighed, shaking his head softly. "What a thought."

"You say that like you know him," Ian remarked.

The captain appeared not to have heard him, but after a moment he appeared to come back to himself, and his expression grew less thoughtful and more businesslike.

"Let me tell you what I can do for you, Mister Chesterton, Miss Wright. I can make this all go away for you. I can make sure you get your jobs back. And I can arrange things so that no one ever bothers you about this again."

"But..?" Ian had asked, hopeful but wary. There was always a condition. A deal that sounded too good to be true usually was.

"But you must never talk publicly about your experiences again. Planet Earth is simply not ready to know about all you've seen. About him."

"You really do believe us, then," Ian had replied, incredulous.

The Captain had smiled mysteriously, with a sparkle in his lovely blue eyes. "You two, Ian and Barbara. You... were the first. But I promise you, you are far from the last. The Doctor has many, many lives yet to change."

"How can you possibly be so certain?" Barbara asked.

"Sorry," he replied with a smile. "I'm afraid that's classified."

Shortly after that, he'd gone, leaving behind a detailed cover story involving working as missionaries on an extended trip to Africa, which they were instructed to share with their friends and colleagues.

In the end, he had been as good as his word. All investigations stopped entirely, the police seemed to forget about them, and they'd been allowed to take up their classes again at the start of the next term. Both had felt quite ready to get on with their lives.

Only... their lives now seemed to be slightly empty, especially on days like today, when tales of Marco Polo and Cathay and the like jogged memories of fantastic adventures and two years spent canvasing all of time and space.

"Sometimes I think I hear it. The TARDIS," Barbara confessed, walking to the window and gazing out into the hazy twilight. "And you know, if he came back? I think I might-" she stopped abruptly, shaking her head. It was pointless to wallow in this sea of what-ifs.

"I'd go too," Ian said softly, coming to stand behind her at the window and placing his hands on her shoulders.

They stood there for a long moment in silence, staring out into space, gazing up at the stars and pondering a life for which they never expected to feel homesick.

"I feel numb all the time," she sighed. "Nothing feels exciting at all to me, anymore. Nothing makes me feel alive. It's so tremendously isolating, Ian. And everyone else is so wary of us now. They all still think we're crazy, deep down. Even my own mother seems on edge. I don't feel like I have friends these days... just zookeepers."

She leaned back against him and pulled his arms around her tighter. He bent his head and smelled the familiar perfume of her hair.

He wanted to say something to comfort her. He hated to see her in pain, this strong, courageous woman he was holding.

And he would be forever grateful for this. The closeness they now shared. His ability to hold her without regard to propriety or manners. The Doctor had shown them what a precious thing this was, friendship, human connection. They would never squander it.

He held her tenderly, chastely, but the scent of her skin and the warmth of her soft flesh caused something to stir deep inside Ian's own lonely, isolated being. A heat, and the craving for human touch burned in the pit of his stomach, sparking a predictable reaction. As he felt his erection grow, he shifted and began to pull away from Barbara, slightly embarrassed at his failure to govern his baser instincts.

He was startled when she tightened her hands on his arms, keeping him firmly wrapped around her, pulled tight against her back.

"Don't go," she implored him, in a low, quiet voice.

He froze. Leaving was, in fact, the last thing he wanted to do, but they were at school, the classroom was unlocked, and it was taking every ounce of his control to avoid pressing his now-swollen cock into the warm, luscious curve of her backside as she stood in front of him.

"Barbara, this is verging on highly improper," he replied, barely above a whisper. "I really don't think we should-"

He was cut off abruptly as she arched her back dramatically, pressing her breasts up into his arms as she held them tight against her chest, grinding her hips back into his. He gasped as his hips bucked involuntarily, driving his erection against her, and at the sound of her breathy moan, his cock began to throb.

"I don't care what we should do," she breathed.

Ian felt his gentleman's resolve begin to crack. All he could think of was the smell of her hair, the warmth of her pulse. He wondered how it would feel to caress the skin of her naked body, how hot and wet and welcoming her yielding flesh would be, splayed out beneath him. His fingers itched to touch her, to tear aside all of the layers of tweed and wool and nylon that separated his bare skin from hers and, not trusting that he could control himself if he let go, he held her tighter.

She squirmed against him.

"Touch me," she begged.

"We are standing in a classroom, Barbara," he reminded her. "There are children on campus. We would lose our jobs. Again."

She grabbed one of his hands and brought it up to grasp the firm globe of her breast, and he could feel the hardened nipple beneath the structured form of her brassiere.

She dragged his other hand down to her thigh and his fingers lingered over the metal fastenings of her suspender belt.

Proper, demure Barbara reduced to this wanton, writhing creature in his arms. He shouldn't feel so excited to see her come undone this way, but in truth it was driving him mad.

His prick ached against the metal zipper of his trousers and he thrust in vain, feeling like a base animal and frustrated by the multiple layers of fabric that kept him from the hot, sweet core of her.

"Oh, Ian I want it," she pleaded. "Please, please don't say no. Please."

"Not here," he insisted, but she wouldn't let him budge.

"You make me feel," she moaned. "I just want to feel."

He felt his balls starting to tighten. He gripped and kneaded her breast, helplessly, and his other hand sought out her center, cursing the tight fabric of the pencil skirt she wore.

As he pressed his fingers against her core she cried out softly and squirmed in his arms. Her round, firm ass pressed harder against his cock and he felt like he was losing his mind, nearly desperate to tear off their clothes and find relief inside her.

"God, Barbara," he moaned as she ground into him, "it shouldn't be happening this way. Not for us."

She ignored him, rolling her hips rhythmically up into his hand and back against his cock, swollen and desperate for contact inside his trousers.

"More," she whimpered. "Harder. God, Ian, please. Just a little harder. Please."

She had been an Aztec goddess and the intended paramour of a Roman emperor. Who was he to resist her?

He buried his face in her neck and breathed in her scent, nipping at the skin behind her ear and murmuring soft sounds of encouragement as her moans grew breathier and her movements more erratic.

He ached for release, his trapped cock protesting at its confinement, dampening his pants as it leaked with his need. He dreamed of her so often, it was maddening to have her so close, so willing, yet to be unable to take her as he wished.

He growled in frustration against her neck and rolled a nipple between his fingers with a pinch hard enough to make her cry out. And then, she gasped and shuddered, her eyes closed and head thrown back as she convulsed against him, riding out the waves of her climax, and it was the most erotic thing Ian had ever seen.

His cock was an iron bar, his balls aching and ready to burst. He felt like a madman, unable to think about anything except the scent, the feel, and the wanton sight of Barbara, flushed and shaking in his arms.

"Barbara, I-" he gasped.

She looked over her shoulder at him and rubbed her hips back against him again, harder. It was his turn to shudder.

"Barbara, if you don't stop that, I'll-"

"I know," she said, her voice low and raspy. "That's the idea."

Then, she turned in his arms, looking him in the eye as he struggled to maintain his control.

She ran her hand up and down his rock-hard shaft through his trousers and he knew he was lost. Slowly and firmly she stroked him through his clothes... too much... not enough... and the pressure kept building until he exploded in a white-hot gasp of ecstasy, moaning into Barbara's mouth as she muffled his voice with a kiss.

Afterwards she stared up at him through eyelids heavy with lust.

"I think you should take me to dinner," she suggested in a low voice, "and then I think you should take me home and finish this evening properly. Unless you don't fancy the idea," she added, quickly, blushing in shame at the thought.

"Barbara," he whispered, "There is nothing I could ever want more. I've wanted this... you... for months. But, are you sure?"

"As sure as I've ever been about anything in my life, Ian. After all we've been through together already? This is so simple."

And he realized it was.

Months later, they were washing up after dinner and listening to the news when the doorbell rang.

Ian recognized the voice of the young agent before he saw his face.

"Please, ma'am, call me Jack," he insisted. "And please let me introduce you to a new friend I've made, who's got a story I think you might enjoy hearing. Dorothea, this is Ian, and this is Barbara."

"Dodo, please. I'm not nearly old enough to be Dorothea."

"Nice to meet you, Dodo," Barbara said. They both shook her hand.

"Jack told me I could talk to you," she said with a wary look on her face. "He said you wouldn't think I'm crazy, if I told you what really happened."

Ian and Barbara's eyes snapped towards each other, and then to Jack, in surprise.

"Captain, you can't mean...?" Barbara let the question trail off in her throat.

"I told you you wouldn't be the last," he said with a smile. "I hope you don't mind that I brought her here."

"Of course not," Ian insisted quickly. "We lot should stick together, eh, Dodo?"

Dodo smiled mischievously. "So... you know him too?"

"We were with him for two years," Barbara confided, pulling the girl into her arms for a hug, after which Dodo began to chatter excitedly with tears in her eyes.

The young agent began to withdraw from the room. Ian stood to meet him as he left.

"There are others?" he asked softly.

"There will be," Jack replied.

"What about you?" Ian asked, seeing a twinge of something sad in the young man's lovely eyes.

"I'm still waiting on my Doctor," he said wistfully. "But I know I'll find him. I've got all the time in the world."

Ian stared for a moment at Jack's enigmatic expression, before coming to a decision.

"Send them to us," he implored. "The others, when you find them. Send them all to us. We'll look after them."

Jack grinned with a brilliant smile that left Ian feeling slightly breathless and uncomfortable. "I was hoping you'd say that."

Then he donned his coat, tipped his hat, and took his leave.

Shaking his head, Ian locked the door, then went to join Barbara and their guest in the living room.