They fell into a routine in the days that followed. Mornings would see them go their separate ways, Nyssa to tend to her usual duties around the station while the Doctor continued tinkering with the TARDIS. When she was done, she’d join him there and offer what help she could. Meals were taken in the Terminus commissary when they remembered to take them at all, and then at night they would retire to her quarters and the comfort of each other’s arms.

Some nights they would only sleep. Some, Nyssa would sleep while the Doctor lay awake, due to either his Time Lord physiology, simple insomnia or some combination of both. But almost inevitably on other nights, one or the other of them would awake from a nightmare and need the solace that the physical side of their new relationship provided. It was always insufficient consolation, but both of them knew by now that nothing ever would quite suffice.

As Nyssa herself had said, some wounds were too deep to ever completely heal.

“Lady Nyssa? Nyssa?”

Her assistant, Gilbehr’s voice brought her back to the present with a start. “Pardon?”

He pointed hesitantly to the supply form that was on her screen–that had, in fact, been on her screen for some time. It was a catalogue of foodstuffs for the commissary, or at least those such as they were not able to produce themselves in the hydroponic garden she’d built. Shaking her head to clear it, Nyssa apologised: “Forgive me, my mind was elsewhere.”

“It’s no trouble, Lady,” Gilbehr assured her with an indecipherable smile. “I’ve become rather accustomed to it, since the Doctor arrived.” He hesitated a moment before adding cautiously, “We all have.”

That sent a jolt of surprise through her, mixed with a hint of shame and followed by a wave of completely irrational irritation. What business was it of anyone’s how she chose to spend her free time? It wasn’t as though she’d been neglecting any of her duties. Or had she?

The irritation faded as suddenly as it had come when she realised she didn’t know, not for certain. Had she really become so wrapped up in the Doctor as that?

“No, Lady,” Gilbehr reassured her hastily when she asked. “You’ve done everything asked of you and more, just as always. Except…” He hesitated for a moment before continuing. “Forgive me, Lady, but you just don’t seem to like being here very much anymore.”

Nyssa didn’t answer, quite frankly stunned into silence. Of course, the most shocking part was that she couldn’t deny it: when she tried to find the drive and enthusiasm she’d felt so recently for her work ongoing on the station, it wasn’t there.

“I’m sorry.” Gilbehr looked sheepish. “I oughtn’t to have said anything.”

“No,” Nyssa corrected him quickly but kindly. “I would never want you to feel you couldn’t be entirely honest with me.” She paused a moment before adding. “But if you could…give me a moment.”

“Yes, of course.” Gilbehr ducked his head almost reverently. She wondered when and how she’d given them cause to venerate her so much? It certainly hadn’t been intentional.

Nyssa finished her work almost mechanically. If Gilbehr was right, mechanical was how she had been for some time now. That thought still troubled her, particularly because no one had spoken of it to her before.

Was it so wrong, after all, to have grown restless? Certainly it wasn’t typical of her. She’d made the choice to remain here, a choice she knew when she made it would likely be irreversible. She was still needed, too–only a fraction of what she’d envisioned had been achieved. It would take the rest of her life, if not longer to complete the rest, but she’d committed to see it through.

On the other hand, she’d been very young when she made that choice, young and burning with righteous indignation and purpose. She might have been practical enough to see something of the road ahead, but never all of it. The simple but relentless tedium of the stars–the same stars, night and day–was something she’d never anticipated. Yes, she’d accepted her fate, both that first day and in the years that followed, but then at the time the choice had seemed irrevocable.

She’d never expected the Doctor to return, and certainly not like this.

Unsurprisingly, when she left her office, Nyssa found her steps turning towards the TARDIS. The Doctor looked up as she opened the door, flashing her an eager smile like nothing she’d seen on this new face. “There you are. Just in time–I was just about to come looking for you.”

It could only mean one thing. “Is the TARDIS–?”

He flipped a switch and the time rotor hummed to life, a golden-green light pulsing joyfully along the entire length of the column. “Ready to go.”

Strange, but when the day came that the TARDIS was repaired, she’d rather expected it to transform into an empty door or cupboard or some other fixture that would blend in with the station, not the same old police box. “But not the chameleon circuit?” she asked.

The Doctor shrugged. “Block transfer computation never was my strong suit–hence the trip to Logopolis in the first place. Besides…” He patted the console fondly. “I like her the way she is.”

Well. She could understand that, Nyssa supposed. It was a constant, after all, and such things were important when you had so few constants left.

The Doctor looked at her. “So. Shall we be off?”

The question unexpectedly caught her off guard. She’d been expecting it, of course, but perhaps not quite so soon. The timing could hardly be worse when she’d only begun to examine her own motives for joining him mere hours ago. “Not just yet. I ought to let Gilbehr or someone know that I’ll be leaving.”

“What for?” the Doctor scoffed. “Time machine, remember? If it comes to it, I can have you back before they’ve even had time to notice you’ve gone.”

Nyssa looked at him sceptically. “Just as you promised to return Tegan to Heathrow Airport before she could be missed? Forgive me, Doctor, but unless your piloting skills have improved dramatically in the past few incarnations, I think it’s best I leave word just in case.” She hesitated a moment before adding quietly. “I owe them that much.”

If the Doctor detected the undercurrent of uncertainty in that last statement, he didn’t show it, merely shrugged. “Your choice. Though it’s worth noting that it’s been a while since the TARDIS was out there, in her natural habitat. She might get impatient.”

Nyssa gave him a rather impatient glare of her own. “If you’re worried I’ll change my mind about coming with you, you might just say so, Doctor–save the transparent attempts at emotional manipulation for someone who doesn’t know you quite so well. Not to mention someone a good deal younger.”

She smiled at the abashed expression that crept onto his face. He probably hadn’t even realised himself what he was doing until she’d called him out. “I’ll return because I’ve said I will,” Nyssa added more softly. “You ought to know me well enough for that.”

~*~

Of course, when he thought about it, he had to appreciate the irony that Gallifrey had never been home until it wasn’t there anymore. Or if it was, it was only the sort of home one ran away from.

The Doctor caressed the TARDIS console with one hand, a sad smile on his face. Once not so long ago, she’d been the only home he needed. Or had she? The smile turned rueful as he glanced over at Nyssa on the other side of the console. All things considered, if he’d truly been content with just his TARDIS, why would he have always needed for company?

He’d never been a man who coped easily with solitude. The company of his ship and his books could only compensate so much for the presence of another sentient being in his sphere. He needed someone that he could talk to and run with, not always in that order. Someone to whom he could show all the wonders of the universe, since the TARDIS knew more about time and space than even he did.

Nyssa had travelled with him for nigh on fifteen years. That was longer than nearly all of his other companions–Romana and Ace being the exceptions. What he hadn’t known about her then, he’d learned in the few short months since she’d saved him against his will. He knew her inside out, knew what she loved, what she hated. He knew what made her cross, what made her sad, what made her happy, and he wasn’t above using that knowledge to do everything in his power to keep her with him.

It ought to have bothered him how easy it was to contemplate abusing her trust like that. Apparently his seventh incarnation wasn’t the only one with a manipulative streak.

He couldn’t be alone, though. Not now. Not after…

The Doctor shunted the thought aside with brutal force. It didn’t matter. She wouldn’t leave him alone. She hadn’t up ’til now. Nyssa understood. Better than any other being in the universe, she understood. She wouldn’t let the emptiness swallow him whole.

He looked over at her again and shivered.

Still…just in case, couldn’t hurt to remind her what she’d been missing all these years holed up on Terminus. And because it was Nyssa, he knew to start simple. He’d seen the pleasure she took in simple things.

The TARDIS shuddered to a stop and the Doctor couldn’t quite prevent the manic grin that sprang onto his face, even considering his looming dread of visiting Tegan. He rather thought he might skip that part of this particular adventure.

“Here we are, then!” he exclaimed eagerly. “Come on.”

The sky outside the newly-simple door of the TARDIS was still dark, although it was the kind of dark that trembled on the edge of brightening. Fantastic, simply fantastic: he’d known the old girl wouldn’t let him down. Below and around them gleamed the lights of a city, parts of it dark and sleeping but the rest already awake, if it had slept at all. They were on the roof of a building, several floors high.

Nyssa frowned. “Where are we?”

“Call it a minor detour,” the Doctor answered breezily. He stopped her before she could object. “Don’t worry, I haven’t forgot my promise. There’s just something else I thought you might like to see first.”

He nodded towards the horizon, which was slowly fading from black to a deep grey. Before long, colour would bleed in and then…well, then they’d see.

~*~

She might have known. Truthfully, she had known–she’d even pointed out to him his inability to return Tegan to Heathrow when she’d wished it. Detours were inevitable on the TARDIS and they were rarely “minor.”

If she were being honest with herself, Nyssa knew she ought never to have agreed to come with him. She knew what he was up to. He’d planned something that he thought would make her agree to stay with him. It was both maddening and flattering all at once.

“What is it you want me to see?” she asked, trying very hard not to sound as peevish as she felt. Well, whatever it was, at least this time he hadn’t “accidentally” teleported her into the midst of a blizzard without appropriate attire.

The Doctor didn’t answer for a long moment. He just stared fixedly at the half-awake city below them until something appeared to catch his eye.

“There!” He pointed towards the horizon, his voice triumphant.

Nyssa’s eyes followed the line of his finger more out of instinct than any conscious choice. “Oh!” she exclaimed as the first ray of the sun cleared the horizon, beaming across the rim of the world like a ribbon of fire. From here, they could see a river snaking away in the distance, the light of the rising sun turning it to mercury. The air was heavy and balmy, even at this early hour, particularly compared to the recycled air of Terminus. If she closed her eyes, she could almost imagine herself back in the grove on Traken, surrounded by its beautiful flora, but she didn’t want to close her eyes. There was too much to see.

Nyssa’s heart contracted. Whatever irritation she’d felt melted away with the darkness. She couldn’t quite suppress the longing in her voice as she asked, “Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve seen a sunrise?”

The Doctor looked at her with hooded eyes. “Fifty years?” he guessed quietly.

She nodded, too moved for the moment to speak. Swallowing hard, she fumbled to find her voice, finally managing, “When I was a child, Father would take me to the outer walls of the city sometimes, just to watch the sun rise. I…I’d forgotten how much I missed being able to do so.”

“Told you,” he answered mildly.

Nyssa smiled. What a showman the Doctor was, and always had been. But like any skilled magician, he was also the ultimate trickster. “Don’t think I’m not grateful, but Tegan–”

“Lives a couple floors down,” he interrupted with a smile. “But somehow I doubt she’d appreciate being woken before the sun. Enjoy it: we’ve plenty of time.”

Nyssa swallowed hard and nodded. As if drawn by an invisible thread, she wandered away from the TARDIS towards the edge of the roof. Far away on the horizon, the ribbon of light had begun to swell into a half-circle. It set the sky afire around it with so many colours. She’d forgotten them too, as accustomed as she’d grown to Terminus’ unchanging stars.

The Doctor followed, slipping his hand into hers and squeezing it gently.

There were billions of worlds in the universe. She’d seen far fewer than that, but nearly all of those saw a sunrise in the same symbolic light: as a token of new beginnings. And no wonder. Nyssa felt her heart growing lighter right along with the sky above them. She felt younger than she’d done in years, as if all the burdens and doubts she’d been struggling with had been lifted for a moment from her shoulders.

Her thoughts felt free of confusion for probably the first time since the Doctor had returned to Terminus. She might still not know what choice she would make, but Nyssa felt certain now that it would be the right one. Even if she chose to return and resume the life she’d so recently left behind, it would be a new beginning. For her, for the Doctor…perhaps even for Tegan.