Chapter Text
“Okay,” The clone said carefully, releasing his gentle grip on my wrist as we both made it to a quiet alleyway. The clone turned to face me, and I ducked my head, his kind eyes burning into my guilty soul.
My heart is beating a mile a minute. I knew why I was here, but Force- I didn’t want to be here.
“I’m Ponds,” The Clone, Ponds, supplied, and he dropped down to sit on the floor casually. As if I wasn’t covered in my own self-caused blood, and instead were about to eat a picnic. “Who are you?”
By the way, he was sitting, I could tell it was an invitation. I didn’t have to accept it. I could shake my head, turn around, and go back to the wreck of the apartment without another thought. But… Then I’d have to deal with reality. The apartment, the wounds, the blood, people have seen it… So I took a small breath and sat down too, cross-legged.
“I’m ___,” I replied, placing both of my hands carefully in my lap. Only then, I realized I had dropped my knife somewhere. Dang- I would have to find it later. It was my only one.
“___,” Ponds hummed, looking up as if considering the word. “That’s a nice name.”
I nodded, awkwardly. I didn’t know what to say. There was a small silence that made me desperately reconsider jumping up and running. I had just gotten to the point of being about to do so when Ponds spoke again.
“Do you want to talk?” Ponds asked, tilting his head at me. For some reason, once again, his eyes seemed to burn me.
He knew, after all.
“Like- in general? Or about- ya know… or…?” I said awkwardly, cringing. Dang it- I wasn’t a good conversationalist.
But to my relief, Ponds didn’t laugh. He didn’t even comment. There was only a quirk of one side of his mouth that gave the appearance that he had heard the stutter at all.
“About cutting.”
He said it in such a matter-of-fact way that made me wince. I didn’t cut deep, only until blood! That wasn’t really cutting, was it? I had never dubbed myself a cutter- not even in my mind!
I looked up from my hands to see Ponds staring at me patiently. Not condemningly, not condescendingly, not angrily, just- waiting.
“No” I blurted out before I could stop myself, or at least filter it. I didn’t want to have to explain. The innate desire to dig blade into flesh, to feel the sting, to watch the blood. I didn’t want to explain the deep, aching anguish that made me do it. The one that ate away at my soul, until blood made it feel better. I didn’t want to explain how I needed it. How it was a habit and a coping mechanism, that I didn’t want to stop. I didn’t want this stranger's guilt too.
I looked back down at my hands, blinking away tears. Now was when he would leave. He would stand up, walk away, and leave me alone. He would-
“Okay,” Ponds shook me out of my thoughts, making me look up once again in nervous surprise. “You don’t have to talk about it.” He patted the ground next to him in an invitation. “Do you just want to sit?”
It was tempting. Force- it was tempting.
I settled for something else instead. “Don’t you… Have a war to fight or something?”
Ponds shrugged. “Here is as much of a battleground as anywhere else.”
I felt my soul tug as that hit home. He knew. He understood. How…? But he had. Without thinking, I stood again, walking the short distance, and sitting down beside him.
He wasn’t looking at me anymore, and that was good. I don’t know if I would have been able to take his gaze again. He was looking ahead, comfortably. Like we were… equals?
I pressed my back against the wall and brought my knees up to my chest. And I waited. It was the most comfortable in the silence that I’ve been in a while. Something about Ponds’ presence just made it that way. Made you know how much he cared and was there.
Force- I didn’t even know this clone!
“Can I clean them?” Ponds suddenly broke the silence, turning his gaze back towards me. I blinked for a second before I realized what he was talking about.
“Oh! Um, yeah, sure…”
Ponds smiled at me, a thank you.
Why should he be thanking me? I thought to myself bitterly. He should be screaming bloody murder.
I watched as the clone dug in his utility belt and pulled out a small medkit. From there, Ponds pulled out some disinfectant, a cloth, then some bacta. Then Ponds looked up at me.
“Do you mind if I use bacta?”
He didn’t say it, but I knew the rest of the sentence. It’s a better disinfectant, a better healer, and at this long without cleaning them, the best chance for no infection. But it would heal quickly, and perhaps I wanted the wounds to stay.
“I don’t mind,” I shook my head and Ponds nodded. I watched, hardly paying any attention, as Ponds smeared it onto the cloth and began gently, so much more gently than I’d been used to, dabbing it over the thin lines. It stung, but not once I flinched. With every sharp jolt, I told myself that I deserved it. Because I did.
Then, the slow and painful reality dawned on me. Not for the first time, and certainly not for the last. It was painful all the same... I was here. These were my cuts. My responsibility. I was alone. This clone was helping me. I didn’t deserve to be helped. I’m failing so many people. So. Many. People. I had pushed people away, I had destroyed friendships myself. I failed school. I ruined it. I’m failing… I’m failing… I’m failing… It’s my fault. MY fault. It’s-
My attention was snapped back, and I was staring at my slightly lubricated legs. Blue, tinged with red. Ponds had moved on to my arms now. But I stared hard, forcefully, as if that would make them either tear up more or disappear forever.
Another wave of mental anguish passed over me, and I desperately wanted to scratch, to cut.
Then all resolve faded.
“I- just want it to stop,” I lowered my head so it was touching my knees as I spoke the shuddering words. “I- want it to stop.” Repeating the words felt so good. Like it was admitting it. “I want it to STOP!” A not-so-silent sob escaped my lips. “I WANT IT TO STOP!!”
It was a final cry for help.
And I felt a heavy arm wrap around my shoulders, and the arm pulled me closer. I pressed into Ponds embrace, shaking, as another sob wracked my body. And another sob, and another, until tears streamed down my cheeks and I was clenching my fists so hard that something wet burst out of them. Ponds whispered soothing words to the point that I turned towards him, and flung my arms around his neck, sobbing still.
He wasn’t wearing armour, so he was warm, comforting to hold. And Ponds held me too.
He held me safe.
And for a moment, the world was only there. Safe, warm, comforting.
And Ponds called me his Ad’ika.
And he gave me a comm channel that was his privately.
And that wasn’t the last time he came and held me safe.