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“Doctor?” you asked. His name sat in the space between the two of you - your voice ringing out into the unbearable silence. All you could hear was the quiet humming of the TARDIS and the thumping of the heart in your own chest, worry-based adrenaline threatening to course through your veins. You weren't sure if he would ever forgive you for your mistake - as it was, you couldn't even get him to look at you. But still, you tried again, mumbling out his name, less effort this time.
The upset Time Lord didn't make any effort to look at you. He barely flinched. He kept his body completely rigid as he sat in a far corner of the TARDIS away from you, staring at a fixed point on the wall with alien-like intensity. Sadness sat in the air as you swore you could hear him give a little huff - something involuntary from the back of the throat. Perhaps, it was a warning - a call to leave him alone.
Your eyes trailed up to the railing above him where he had thrown his leather jacket out of anger. The anger was never directed towards you, of course. He could never make any attempt to hurt you, but it seemed like you had accidentally hurt him in some way, and he simply couldn't bear it.
Clearing your throat, you looked at him now. He sat only in his green jumper and black pants, slumped over looking like a shell of his former self. The Doctor that you knew, all his upbeat sass and enthusiasm, seemed lost in the moment. His face was littered with little red cuts as if he had gotten into a fight with a New Earth cat nurse and lost... terribly.
He had his back up against the wall and his knees up to his chest, his hands hanging off of them. From there, you could see the vicious burns on them, and you had to rip your eyes away. You knew how he had gotten them. The guilt made your heart lurch in between your lungs.
The worst part, though, was his gaze. The piercing blue eyes and bright smile had been lost. He seemed lost. Every single negative emotion had crossed his features once or twice - sadness, regret, anger, and disappointment. Somehow, it didn't seem like he was there with you in the TARDIS, even though you could see his body right there in front of you.
It was as if he couldn't take his mind away from the planet you had visited that day - with good reason, of course.
Carefully, you watched his chest - its little rises and falls. A thought crossed into your mind. How much you desperately wanted to rest your head on it. How you wanted to feel his arms snake around your waist as he held you close. You both needed that comfort from each other. Though, you never wanted to admit it to him. You barely wanted to admit it to yourself.
Before meeting The Doctor, love wasn't easy for you. You had gotten hurt plenty of times - always giving your heart up only to have it given back. Eventually, you gave up on falling in love, swearing you didn't need it.
Of course, you loved The Doctor. But there was a difference between loving him and falling in love with him. You simply knew that man - that beautiful, wonderful, too-clever-for-words man would end up hurting you, and perhaps, not even on purpose. People always hurt each other. Falling in love was pointless unless you were set on getting your heart broken.
Yet, the sight of him in that moment broke your heart, making you wonder if you already had fallen in love. Chest sinking, you mourned the temporary loss of your confident and spunky Time Lord.
The worst part was that you knew it was partly your fault.
"Doctor, I'm sorry," you breathed, but your voice shook, concern rising like a sob in your throat.
This time, you earned a glance. Finally. A pointed blue-eyed glare.
You thought you might have finally gotten through to him, but he simply tore his eyes away from you and returned his gaze to the wall as if to make a point.
At that moment, all of the lights in the console room dimmed at once. You glanced at the console in confusion. It trilled sadly. On the other side of the room, you could hear the Doctor take a labored breath in.
the TARDIS and the Doctor’s connection gave you a thrill. When the Doctor was happy, all of the lights flashed and shined. Its hum sounded like a purr. Now, it carried through the air like a soft lullaby. It made sense – the connection between the lights and the Doctor, but it hurt.
At the sound, you swallowed hard and readjusted the blanket covering your body.
It was difficult, though, and you cursed your past self. You had to have one edge of the blanket balled in a fist, while your other hand hung in your lap, wrapped in gauze.
The last time the Doctor had spoken to you was when you both stood in the medical bay. Even then, the conversation was clipped and short as he pulled the gauze around your injured palm. His words dripped with disappointment.
You knew why. Your visit to the Borrowed Nebula off the Boline Peninsula had gotten horribly, horribly wrong. The alien race who lived there, the Psychiazar, had mistaken him for The Master. The Master had ruined their relationships with Time Lords for good, and they were out for blood.
Though they seemed meek as they were quite short in stature, the Psychiazar were a telepathic race. Without warning, they had filled The Doctor’s mind with a steady stream of memories from his past regenerations, more particularly, his past companions. They knew where it would sting the most. After all, he had taken so many people with him over the years, making memories with all of them. And some parts, he truly regretted.
When they noticed you, his current companion, they were thrilled to latch onto you. You, as a human, were weaker in defense. They could easily fill your mind and pull out your secrets. While The Doctor knew most of them, they came across one particular one: how you didn’t believe in falling in love. You never told him.
“In 200 years, will you remember her eyes? Like the others?” one of the Psychiazar taunted the Doctor, his hands in the air. “And yet... you still love her.”
“She’s my companion,” the Doctor growled. “Of course, I love her.”
You watched as his body writhed in pain. He gritted his teeth.
“But she doesn’t love you,” the Psychiazar’s eyes lit up as he reached a part of your mind you desperately kept hidden. “Or does she?”
“Don’t you dare,” you spat. That was it. You were going to destroy them. You ran up to the Psychiazar who was half your size, about to rip its whole body apart when it burned your hand with its mind, your brain's synapses, and pain receptors screaming.
It laughed as you cringed, the searing pain running through your entire arm. Beside you, the Doctor was on his knees, his hands burning in the hot ground. You could sense his energy, how he was working to stop them so you could get away. There was no winning with the Psychiazar. You couldn’t play with mind games and not use violence. The Doctor refused.
When you finally got back to the TARDIS and away from the Borrowed Nebula, the Doctor dragged you by your other hand to the medical bay. He didn’t say a word, still affected by what had gone down there. But he pointed to a spot on the floor, told you to stand there, and reached into the cabinet for a roll of gauze and medical tape.
“Doctor, I –”
“I don’t use violence,” he barked. He sent the roll of gauze around your hand a few times, taking care to tape it up extremely tight. He met your gaze with cold blue eyes. “You know that.”
Your head fell and you looked away. “He was hurting you,” you mumbled.
“He was,” the Doctor replied. He gave a faint smile. “But don’t pretend it wasn’t also what he said about you.”
With one last look, he finished up your bandage and dropped your hand softly, leaving the room.
You wanted to admit it to him. How much you loved him, and frankly, how much that fact terrified you.
Now, though, watching him in the console room, you had to tell him.
"Doctor," you started, hopping off the jump seat and abandoning your blanket. "I was afraid of the Psychiazar telling my secret."
He had his eyes closed, but now they opened, listening to you. Still, he didn’t move the rest of his body.
“Do you want to know why?” You were walking over to him now, tears threatening to fall from your eyes.
When you reached him, you sat on the floor cross-legged so that you were directly where his gaze had been before. His pointed gaze was now soft as he watched you in a bit of amusement as you stumbled to sit, your body feeling a bit lop-sided with your injured hand.
Finally, he inhaled and exhaled, dropping his act. “Why?”
His tone was sharp, and you were a bit taken aback by it.
“I love you,“ you whispered.
The Doctor glanced up at you, his blue eyes wide. He opened his mouth to speak, but stopped himself, instead waiting for you to continue.
“I was terrified of falling in love with you, so I tried to convince myself I hadn't.” You gave him a soft smile. “I’m sorry, Doctor.”
The Doctor stared at you for a moment. His eyes studied your face, all of it as if he didn’t want to forget you.
Then his entire demeanor changed as he moved from his position. Suddenly, he had his hand on your cheek. He gave you a wide smile – the one you loved so much.
“Never apologize for that,” he said, leaning closer, close enough for your lips to brush. "I love you."