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“That was fun,” Susan says, holding hands with both Harry and the Doctor. “It was fun at the fair, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah, it was,” Sarah says, although she now has a bit of a headache; she probably drank too much cola.
“It was a bit loud for me,” the Doctor adds, his ear defenders sticking out of his pocket. “But it was rather fun.”
“Yes, and it was a new experience for me as well, old thing,” Harry says, and he and the Doctor lift Susan up into the air and swing her forwards.
Susan giggles delightedly, tightening her grip on Harry’s hand. “You mean you’ve never been to a fair, Dad?”
“I’m afraid not,” Harry says, putting on a melodramatic tone of voice. “It’s just one of these things I’ve never done.”
The Doctor makes an exaggerated gasp. He gestures wildly with his free hand, casting strange shadows in the light of the lampposts. “You philistine! You never told me that.”
“I’m sorry, I should have told you—”
“Yes you should, Harry,” Sarah says, grinning. “I mean, that’s the sort of things you need to know about someone. If I knew you’d never been to a fairground before when we met, I might never have married you.”
It’s Harry’s turn to gasp. He puts his free hand on his chest. “My heart! How could you say that? I thought our relationship was stronger than this.”
Susan starts laughing, looking at her three parents like she’s watching show. “You’re so silly!”
The Doctor smiles and swings her in the air again. “Of course we are, Susan. That’s why you love us, isn’t it?”
Susan grins. “Part of it. But I mostly love you ‘cause you’re such good parents.”
“Aww, that’s so sweet, darling,” Sarah says, pressing a kiss to the top of Susan’s head.
They turn the corner, Sarah and the Doctor and Susan talking about the fair again, and are walking down the next street when Harry hears footsteps. His breath catches in his throat, and he hopes he isn’t being paranoid. Just because they’re out after dark doesn’t mean…
“Hold it right there.”
There is a gruff voice right in his ear, and someone grabs his arm. The fingers dig into his arm and Harry winces.
He stops dead. He doesn’t turn his head. This can’t be happening.
The Doctor turns his head and his eyes widen. He reaches for Sarah’s hand, pulling her and Susan closer towards him.
“What’s going on?” Susan asks.
“Ssh, darling,” Sarah says, her voice not even a whisper.
“What do you want?” Harry says, finally speaking. His voice trembles, ruining any attempt to sound confident.
“Nothing much,” the man says, and Harry knows there’s a sadistic smile on his face even without looking at him. “Just your money. And that watch.”
Why couldn’t he have worn long sleeves? “All right. Just… leave them alone.”
The man looks at his family, and Harry grits his teeth. Poor Susan just looks confused, but Sarah and the Doctor are as terrified as Harry. They know exactly what’s going on. But why did this have to happen with Susan here?
Harry sighs and lets go of Susan’s hand.
“No sudden movements,” the mugger says. Harry glances at him, and sees a knife in his hand. He wants to be sick.
And so Harry moves his hands slowly, taking his wallet from his pocket and undoing his watch. He holds them out to the man, moving his hands as slowly as he can. He doesn’t want to anger this man, because who knows what he might do if he is angered?
The mugger snatches his belongings and shoves them into his pocket. Behind him, Harry hears the let out a groan. He must be panicking. Hopefully he won’t have a meltdown. Susan starts to say something else, but gets hushed by Sarah.
“Um… can we go now?” Harry says, wishing his voice would stop trembling.
“Not so fast,” the mugger says, and he steps closer, grabbing Harry’s arm again. “What about your friends?”
He must be talking about Sarah and the Doctor.
“What?”
The mugger roughly shoves Harry’s arm, sending him stumbling backwards, and walks towards Sarah and the Doctor. The Doctor is tightly gripping Sarah and Susan’s hands, and is repetitively tapping his feet against the pavement. He looks horribly stressed.
“Give me your money!” the mugger snarls, gesturing at Sarah and the Doctor with his knife.
“All… all right,” Sarah says, her voice coming out flat. She pats Susan’s shoulder. “Go and stand with Dad, sweetheart.”
Susan looks reluctant, but she lets go of Sarah and edges towards Harry. She grabs his arm, and Harry can feel her trembling.
Sarah starts rummaging through her pockets, but the Doctor doesn’t move. He has frozen, staring at the knife with wide eyes. He isn’t even stimming, something that disturbs Harry more than it probably should. The only movements Harry can see are his hands trembling; he isn’t even blinking.
“Come on, then!” the mugger snaps.
“Par?” Susan whispers, clinging to Harry’s arm.
The Doctor starts to move his hands towards his pockets, but he doesn’t take his eyes from the knife. And then, suddenly, everything happens in a blur.
In one smooth move, the Doctor grabs the mugger’s knife hand by the wrist, and kicks his feet out from underneath him.
Susan screams. Harry gasps.
“Run!” the Doctor yells, and even his trembling voice can’t hide his demanding tone.
Sarah doesn’t think twice, grabbing Susan’s hand and hurtling away as quickly as she can. But Harry hesitates. He stands there, watching the Doctor push the mugger to the floor and pin him down with his knee. The mugger swears at him, struggling against his grip, but the Doctor is stronger.
“Go, Harry!”
How did he know Harry is still here? Did he count their footsteps?
The Doctor pulls the knife from the man’s grip, and then digs his knee harder into the man’s chest. Harry stares at him, watching the Doctor glare at the mugger with such raw anger on his face.
He pulls his hand back, clenching a fist, and Harry wonders if he’s going to hit the mugger.
“Run, Harry!” he shouts, and Harry reluctantly turns on his heels and runs down the street.
He runs until he finds a fast food restaurant, its neon sign glowing in the darkness. His heart pounding, Harry gasps for breath, hunching forwards with his hands on his knees. Which is when he spots Sarah and Susan through the window, and Harry races towards them.
Susan is sat at one of the tables, her hands pressed to her head just like the Doctor does when he’s stressed out, tears running down her face. Sarah is by the counter, using a landline telephone. The restaurant owner obviously let her use it. He hurries over to Susan, sitting down next to her.
Susan’s face lights up when she sees him. “Dad!”
She flings her arms around him, sobbing into his shoulder. Harry rubs her back, wishing Susan hadn’t had to see what she did. She’s so young. Why did they have to get mugged with her around?
“Hello, old thing,” he says, and it makes his chest hurt to hear her cry.
Sarah comes over, sitting down opposite Susan. She reaches across the table and pats their daughter’s arm, trying to soothe her.
“I called the police,” she says wearily. “Where’s the Doctor?”
Susan’s head snaps up as she speaks, and she scans the nearly empty restaurant as though looking for her Par.
“I don’t know,” Harry says. “He yelled at me to run so I did, and then I found you. Last I saw, he looked like he was about to punch the mugger across the face.”
Sarah’s facial expression reminds Harry of how he felt. “But… he doesn’t do violence.”
Harry sighs. “I know.”
He stares around the restaurant, bouncing his leg up and down under the table. He reminds himself of the Doctor… and then the worry hits him again, because the Doctor isn’t here.
“Do you want something to eat, Susan?” Harry asks, reaching for his wallet – which is when he remembers that the mugger took it.
Susan shakes her head, still sobbing. Harry doesn’t blame her; he personally feels too sick to eat. Sarah sighs and rubs Susan’s back.
As Sarah comforts Susan, Harry goes and stands by the doors. He needs to look for the Doctor. Where is he? Is he all right? Eventually, he gets sick of worrying and waiting.
“I’ll be back in a minute,” he says, and he runs back out of the doors.
Harry retraces his steps, walking quickly back to the place the mugger attacked them. He finds the mugger on his stomach, the Doctor kneeling on him again and twisting his arms into an arm lock. The Doctor is trembling violently, his face tense as he chews on the collar of his coat. The mugger has long given up fighting back, and is just laying there, a grimace written across his face. His face is puffing up, like he’s sustained a blow to the face. Did the Doctor hit him?
“I told you to leave, Harry,” the Doctor says, and there is something off about his tone of voice. “I’ve got this under control.”
“Yes, I can see that,” Harry says. “I just wanted to check you were all right. And Sarah’s called the police.”
The Doctor smiles grimly. “Thank you.”
Despite the Doctor’s protests, Harry stays. He leans against the wall, keeping his eyes on the Doctor and the mugger he is restraining. And when they hear sirens in the distance, they both breathe a sigh of relief.
---
When they finally get home, it is almost one o’clock in the morning. Everyone is exhausted, but none of them feel like sleeping. Susan is so pale she looks almost ill, but her eyes are too wide and she won’t stop talking.
“Will he go to prison?”
“What’s going to happen?”
“Why are they called muggers?”
And Sarah patiently answers her questions, but Harry can’t bring himself to talk about it. In the kitchen, he switches on the kettle, hoping a cup of coffee might make him feel better. As it boils, Harry leans against the counter, shivering even though he isn’t cold anymore. He looks at Sarah and Susan, and such overwhelming relief suddenly hits him. He’s just so glad they’re all safe.
“Where’s Par gone?” Susan asks.
And for the first time, Harry replies. “I… don’t know. Did you see where he went, Sarah?”
Sarah shrugs her shoulders, but she looks anxious. “I don’t know exactly. I think he went upstairs.”
They make eye contact, and Harry says what he’s sure they are both thinking. “Should someone check up on him? Never mind, I’ll go.”
And so Harry leaves the kitchen and the boiling kettle, and heads upstairs. The Doctor isn’t in any of the rooms, so he must have gone into the TARDIS. Harry sighs and knocks on the door, wishing the Doctor had more than one key.
“Doctor?” he calls.
There is no reply. He pushes the door, and is disturbed when it swings open. The Doctor never leaves the door ajar. This can’t be a good sign.
Harry takes a deep breath and walks into the TARDIS. “Doctor?”
He walks and walks, winding through the seemingly endless corridors of the TARDIS, trying to locate the Doctor. He isn’t in the lab, he isn’t in his bedroom, and he isn’t in the games room. Where is he?
“Doctor?” he calls again, starting to get the anxiety sweat again. He wipes his hands on his trousers. “Doctor, old thing? Where are you?”
Harry eventually finds the Doctor in one of the sitting rooms, hunched up on the floor. He flinches when Harry opens the door, but visibly relaxes when Harry speaks. Well, relaxes as much as he can when he looks as stressed as he does right now. He is rocking back and forth, hugging his knees to his chest, and tears are running down his blotchy face.
“Go away, Harry,” he says, his voice flat.
But Harry doesn’t leave. He has seen the Doctor like this many times, and knows that staying with him is always a good idea. He sits down beside the Doctor, keeping his distance but also maintaining a constant presence.
The Doctor breathes a shuddering sigh. “Stay, then.”
“Are you all right?” Harry asks, immediately realising how pointless a question that was. “I mean, how are you feeling?”
“I’m brilliant, Harry,” the Doctor says, and Harry is amazed he has managed to make his flat voice so sarcastic. “Stressed, worried… on the edge of a meltdown. Ruined our evening out. And I… I just stood there…”
Harry stares at him. “I… I don’t understand, Doctor.”
“I just stood there!” he sobs, and his voice cracks. Harry goes to pat his arm, but he flinches away. “Get off! Please…”
“Sorry,” Harry says. “But… what do you mean?”
“I mean I just stood there!” the Doctor snaps, rocking faster. “I couldn’t move. I was just… I was terrified.” His face crumples, actually crumples, and fresh tears spill down his cheeks. “I didn’t protect you.”
His hands go up to his head, digging into his thick hair. He screws his face up, his whole body trembling.
“But… you did protect us,” Harry says, trying to stop his eyes filling with tears at the sight of the Doctor breaking like this. “You disarmed him, let us run away. You saved the day, Doctor.”
The Doctor scoffs, but it turns into a spluttering sob. “Only until I was personally threatened. It wasn’t enough. I didn’t protect you. I didn’t protect you.”
Harry’s eyes burn, and he blinks rapidly.
“Not enough. Not good enough. I failed.”
“No you didn’t, Doctor,” Harry says, but the Doctor isn’t listening. Either that, or he just doesn’t believe him.
“And I punched him!” the Doctor cries, and there’s so much pain in his voice, tears streaming down his face. “I hit him! I don’t hit people. But I punched him. Twice. When he was down. When I was in control. I’m… I’m a horrible person. I’m…”
The Doctor’s voice trails off, proper heaving sobs escaping him. He’s completely broken, sobbing hysterically in a heap on the floor. Harry expects him to have a meltdown, but he seems to be going into a shutdown, curling up into a ball and pressing his face against his knees.
And Harry doesn’t know what to do. He’s only ever seen meltdowns. How does one help a person having a shutdown?
The Doctor has gone nonverbal, sobbing into his knees instead of berating himself. He rocks back and forth, his body trembling with sobs. His fingers start fiddling with the end of his scarf, as though he’s trying to unravel it. Harry carefully pulls the scarf out of his grip, knowing the Doctor would be upset if he ruined his precious scarf.
In the end, Harry just sits beside him, hoping his presence is enough to help with something he knows nothing about. But he can’t stop thinking about what the Doctor said. Why did he say he was a horrible person?
And then he realises. It’s his PTSD. The Doctor’s PTSD is hurting him, making him feel like he’s somehow as bad as the people who hurt him all that time ago. And he doesn’t even know how to process that.
Harry doesn’t wipe his eyes when tears run down his face.
---
Sometime later, Sarah knocks on the door. She pokes her head into the room, and she doesn’t even look shocked to see the Doctor looking how he does. After all, she has known the Doctor for even longer than he has, so Sarah knows even more about the Doctor’s meltdowns and shutdowns than Harry does.
But she still sighs, and there’s such pain on her face.
“Harry?” she whispers, being mindful of the Doctor’s ears (his hearing often goes hypersensitive at times like this).
Harry moves to stand up, wanting to talk to Sarah somewhere where their speech won’t upset the Doctor further. But as he stands, the Doctor suddenly reaches out and grabs his wrist. He doesn’t say anything, but Harry understands. He doesn’t want him to leave.
So he sits back down again, letting the Doctor slide his hand down his wrist and grasp his hand. He interlocks their fingers, and Harry doesn’t know whose sweat is making his palm damp.
Harry gives Sarah an apologetic look, which she seems to understand, because she signs no problem and leaves Harry alone with the Doctor again.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he whispers, and the Doctor squeezes his hand as though to say thank you.
---
By the time everyone finally starts getting ready for bed, it is half past three. Harry is so tired, but a combination of fizzy drinks, coffee and anxiety is making him jittery and hyper alert.
In their bedroom, Harry pulls on his pyjamas, throwing his clothes with far too much aggression into the laundry hamper. Sarah gives him a strange look, but she doesn’t say anything. Which is just as well, because Harry doesn’t know what to say.
The Doctor seems oblivious to what they both are doing, staring blankly into space as he tries and fails to unbutton his shirt. He can’t stop rocking, his eyes bloodshot and too wide, and Harry knows he is taking this the hardest of all of them. He only came out of his shutdown about half an hour ago and still can’t speak. And he constantly looks on the verge of tear.
Sarah, noticing the Doctor’s problem with his shirt, approaches him. She clears her throat to get his attention, and he jumps, before looking up at her forehead.
Would you like help? She signs, and she points at his still buttoned shirt.
The Doctor sighs, but moves his trembling fingers to sign, Please.
So Sarah carefully unbuttons his shirt for him, her fingers swiftly unfastening the buttons the Doctor has spent the last five minutes struggling with. When she is finished, he gives her a weak but grateful smile.
Thank you.
As the Doctor changes into his pyjamas (which, thankfully, don’t have buttons), Sarah changes, and soon they are all ready for bed. Well, they are dressed for it, anyway.
The Doctor gets into bed, pulling the blankets right up over his head. They’ve already said goodnight to Susan, but Sarah goes and checks on her before joining Harry and the Doctor in bed.
“I think she’s asleep,” she says, snuggling up with Harry.
Harry puts his arms around her. They make sure to leave a gap between themselves and the Doctor, knowing he doesn’t want to be touched. Harry kisses Sarah on the corner of her mouth, and she snuggles into his chest. They are both shivering, but it isn’t cold.
“Goodnight, Sarah,” he says, adding finally on in his head.
Sarah yawns. “Night.”
Harry falls asleep almost instantly, but he thinks he can hear someone sobbing and his heart is beating in his ears.
---
“Mum?”
Harry gets woken by their daughter’s voice.
“Dad?”
He looks at the clock. He’s only been asleep for half an hour.
“Par?”
He seems to be the only one awake. Harry props himself up on his elbows, and sees Susan stood in the doorway.
“Susan?” he whispers.
She walks across the room and stands next to the bed. It may be very dark, but Harry can see she is crying.
“I… I can’t sleep,” she whispers, her voice hitching. “I had a bad dream.”
Harry sits up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. Before he can say anything, Susan flings her arms around him and hugs him, burrowing her face in his chest.
“I’m scared,” she says, her voice muffled.
“Ssh, it’s all right,” Harry says, trying to soothe her. “Do you want to spend the night with us?”
He says ‘the night’ as though it isn’t almost sunrise, but he’s too tired to correct himself.
Susan nods and wriggles into the big bed between Harry and Sarah. Sarah stirs just long enough to see Susan, smiling weakly at their daughter before falling asleep again.
“Thank you,” Susan whispers, her voice thick from crying.
“No problem,” Harry says, putting his arm around her. She snuggles up between him and Sarah, and Harry can feel her shivering.
One of them must have woken the Doctor, because he raises his head.
“I’m having bad dreams too, Susan,” he whispers weakly, and Harry knows he is (or has been) crying. “You’re not alone.”
Harry kisses the top of Susan’s head. “Yes, darling. You’re not alone. You have us. And we’ll always look after you.”