Turlough had been sketching for nearly half an hour when he sensed the Doctor's presence. He turned his head to the side, and they smiled at each other. And just like that, the soothing calm of this place seemed to double.

The Doctor stood in the ruin's archway and took a deep breath before walking up to Turlough. He hovered by his side, looked at Turlough's landscape sketch, then at the reality stretching out before them. He frowned as if it didn't measure up and returned his gaze to the drawing. He looked thoughtful for a moment, then grinned at Turlough.

Turlough returned the smile, foolishly relieved that there was no criticism forthcoming. "It's marvellous here. I feel so calm and relaxed," he said, needing to express his pleasure somehow.

"It's the high bombardment of positive ions," the Doctor explained, his always gentle voice made all the more so by the boneless lassitude holding them all - the Doctor, Tegan and Turlough - in its spell.

Turlough shivered at the sound. "Yes, that must be it," he agreed, about to continue sketching when the Doctor sat down on the overgrown stone bench beside him.

"Turlough, I wonder..."

"Yes?"

The Doctor gave a nervous smile. "I wonder... If you wouldn't mind, do you suppose you could draw a particular picture for me?"

Turlough's eyes widened. "I suppose so. I'm not very good though."

"Oh yes, you are." The Doctor nodded emphatically. "As it happens, I think you have quite a lot of talent."

Turlough cleared his throat. "Thank you, Doctor." He tried to avoid the too knowing dark eyes, not wanting them to see how much the compliment meant to him.

The Doctor crossed his long legs at the ankles and leaned back on his hands. "I've never had any pictures - photos, drawings, anything like that. It's a kind of memory I've never known. Odd, isn't it?" He frowned.

Turlough nodded his understanding. "You'd like me to draw you?"

The Doctor laughed out loud. "No, Turlough. Not me. Good heavens, why would I want to be staring at a picture of myself?"

Turlough could easily think of a number of reasons he didn't feel he should share with the Doctor. He wondered what else he might be expected to draw.

The Doctor's voice interrupted his thoughts. "My companions always leave me, sooner or later, and I can understand that, of course, but..."

Realization hit Turlough, and he lowered his eyes and began to scratch a harsh tree outline in some random place on the pad. "Of course," he said more coldly than he could help. "I'll ask Tegan if she wouldn't mind sitting for a portrait."

The Doctor fidgeted. "Ah... no, Turlough. Not Tegan."

Turlough turned to him, and the Doctor gave him a coy smile. "Would you draw me a self-portrait, Turlough?"

Turlough was too astonished to speak.

So the Doctor continued in an almost anxious rush of words. "You too will want to leave me, one day, I'm sure, and it would be nice... I'd like..." He breathed deeply, his kind dark eyes locking on Turlough's, and for a moment, neither of them said anything.

Then, when the tension became too much. "Yes?" Turlough breathed.

"I'd like something to remember you by. Not that I'll need reminding, mind you." A nervous flicker of a smile. "It would be very nice."

"Nice?" Turlough prompted, cursing his racing heart for making it so damnably hard to think.

The Doctor turned fully towards him, and Turlough mirrored his pose. "Very nice," the Doctor confirmed softly.

"I see." Turlough gulped.

"You do?" Almost fearful. Adorably so.

"I think so." Turlough smiled tentatively, then more emphatically as the Doctor hesitantly reached out to cover his hand with his own atop the sketchpad on Turlough's knees.

"That's good. Very good." Breathing a sigh of relief, the Doctor removed his hand again, to Turlough's regret, but only to raise it and touch his long fingers to Turlough's flushed cheek. The caress was light as air - a cool breeze, nothing more. And yet, so much more. "I'm not good with words, Turlough," he said hesitantly.

Swallowing, Turlough managed, "I think you're quite good, actually."

The Doctor's soft dark eyes lit up from inside. "Perhaps you're just good at reading me."

"Oh." Turlough felt ridiculously pleased. "Well, in case you're not good at reading me," he said, leaning into the caress, just to imprint it on his memory. "May I ask you something?"

"Yes?"

"If I do draw the picture for you, does that mean I'll have to leave soon?" Turlough swallowed, the words had hurt just to speak out loud. So much hung on the answer.

The Doctor searched Turlough's eyes, reading something in their bright blue depths he liked very much, and smiled softly. "No, Turlough. Stay with me, for as long as you like." And after a pause, during which he let his fingers slide down to the narrow chin, brushing ever so briefly against Turlough's bottom lip and eliciting a gasp, he added, "For as long as you possibly can."

"Yes."

"Yes?" There was an eager gleam in the Doctor's eyes.

Turlough smiled, feeling almost giddy. "I'll draw the picture."

"Oh." Was that disappointment? "Thank you."

"And I'll stay," Turlough added after a pause. "With you." He smiled, his happiness mirrored in the Doctor's deep, wonderful eyes. "As long as you'll have me."

"That will be a very long time," the Doctor said, taking Turlough's hand and interlacing their fingers.

Turlough smiled. "No hurry for the picture then."

"None whatsoever," the Doctor confirmed. "I'll be much happier looking at the real thing."