Touch The Sky: Doctor Who/Studio C [Book 3]

No Right To My Heart

No Right To My Heart

(Original Interlude)

The slammed door echoed in Mallory's ears for what might have been years. Slowly, carefully, she stepped toward it, heart thudding in her chest.

It took too long for her to lift her hand and slam the deadbolt home. She realized dully that she hadn't taken Matt's key; she'd have to get the locks changed. It was a monumental problem she couldn't bring herself to deal with just yet.

Hot tears started down her cheeks, and she didn't bother to analyze which emotion from the maelstrom was causing them. The baby kicked her, hard, and she bit back the urge to scream.

"Stop it," she snapped. At that second, he wasn't his own person, not the child she'd carried so lovingly for seven long months—just a sharp, painful reminder of Matt's betrayal. Another kick had her barking, "I said stop it, you stupid little—"

A sob bubbling up in her throat cut her off, sending a stab of regret through her. She turned away from the door, leaning back against it, and ran a careful hand over her stomach.

"I'm sorry, baby," she got out. "Jason. Mark. Thomas. Whatever we name you." She squeezed her eyes shut and sank to the floor, not even bothering to work out the conundrum of getting back up again. "Whatever I name you," she corrected herself softly.

~~~

Matt resisted the urge to throw his bag at the last possible moment, remembering belatedly he had a laptop in it and several heavy books that could likely snap said laptop in half. He still dropped it on the plain white quilt harder than he needed to.

Sleeping in a hotel last night had been close to miserable. Instead of half-waking in the middle of the night from Mallory cuddling up to him, it had been the sound of the vents or someone talking far louder than was polite that startled him out of sleep. He hadn't been able to get the room the right temperature and the sheets didn't smell like her.

Now, on a different night in a different city, he was still in a hotel.

He muttered under his breath as he slipped into the bathroom, not bothering to pay attention to what he was actually saying. One light couldn't seem to stay on, flickering every few seconds and making him twitch as he splashed water over his face.

Letting out an irritated sigh when he realized he'd left his toothbrush in his bag, he marched back out into the main room. This was ridiculous, he thought to himself. He'd give her the liberty of being mad—but kicking him out, as far as he was concerned, was completely unjustified.

Give her a few days to calm down, he told himself. She'll probably come crawling back.

She might have to wait a bit longer than she'd like.

Matt recognized the thought as uncharacteristically vindictive yet didn't bring himself to care. If she hadn't shut down any attempt he made toward regaining his memories he wouldn't have had to go behind her back to do it.

A minty mouth did not improve his mood in the slightest and he still had a sour expression on his face when he dropped into bed. In a few days, when they'd both calmed down, this could be sorted out.

She'd have to come to him first, though.

~~~

If Mark had a worst nightmare, this was probably it.

Mallory barely spoke to him, snapping if he pushed. At first, he'd assumed it was thanks to being called in on what was supposed to be a day off, but he quickly realized it was far more than that.