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The Doctor often found himself in sticky situations. Really, it had become what he was known for.
He was often reckless, and he never really put a priority on his own survival. That was unless a companion was with him. Even then he didn’t put himself first.
He often found himself shot, or with a needle in his neck. Nothing serious, nothing he couldn’t sleep off, minor inconveniences at worst.
That was, of course, never accounting for his opponent being an expert on Timelords. Where his foe got this material, The Doctor wasn’t sure, but he had it, and it was dangerous.
When the needle was plunged into his neck, he didn’t spare it a passing thought, continuing to struggle as best he could.
He didn’t end up breaking away, instead he was dropped to the cold stone floor. Suddenly, with no explanation, The Doctor’s limbs wouldn’t move. His chest felt constricted, and his eyes were stuck wide open, staring at nothing.
Donna was screaming in the background, somewhere he couldn’t see.
There was a laugh before the man who was currently his enemy crouched in front of his face.
“Simple little drug,” The man hissed, leaning his head down to make eye contact with The Doctor. “Harmless to me, and humans, and almost everyone but Timelords.” Donna was saying something in the background again. “It won’t kill you,” The man promised. “But you’ll be useless for a few days.”
The Doctor watched him stand up, eyes following as best they could, which was not very well.
“Enjoy,” The man smiled and wiggled his fingers as a wave. Donna was released once the cell closed, and The Doctor only knew that because she crouched in front of him.
“You… alright?” The Doctor croaked, trying to look up at Donna. “Hurt?”
“I’m fine,” Donna hissed, rather agitatedly. “Are you?” The Doctor didn’t know how to answer her. He had just been dosed with an unknown poison that was only harmful to him. Was he alright?
“D-dunno,” He said, honestly. Still, he couldn’t move his limbs, and he hardly had control over his tongue. “I’m losing- losing- muscle control.” He said, or tried to at least. The words were stuttery and hard to understand.
“What do you need?”
“Honestly?”
“Yes, honestly.” Donna rolled her eyes.
“T-Tardis.” The Doctor said. “Can’t fix- th- this without ‘er.” Donna pursed her lips and looked around the room.
“Well, I can’t get you to the Tardis.” She replied. “I can get you up on the bed, though.” The Doctor didn’t reply, and was then manhandled into sitting against Donna’s chest. “You’re heavier than I expected.”
The Doctor didn’t say anything, or make a sound, allowing himself to be half dragged, half carried across the room and all but thrown onto the bed.
He landed at an awkward angle, with his arms squished behind his back and his neck twisted to the side.
“Sorry,” Donna mumbled, settling him in a more comfortable position. Had he had anything left in him, he would have insisted she take the bed, and he lay on the floor instead. As it was, though, he just laid there, staring up at the ceiling, until his eyes shut and he was unconscious.
The next day was worse. The Doctor lay in bed, shaking like a leaf, pale and sweaty and sick.
Now, he knew that this wasn’t the poison doing its job, this was his immune system finding itself a cure. Donna didn’t know that, and neither did their captors.
In a matter of hours- 48 from when the poison first entered his bloodstream, to be exact- the poison would be rendered useless, and he wouldn’t have to worry anymore.
But for now, he was reduced to a miserable mess, and still he was unable to move. Donna fretted over him constantly, though there was nothing for her to do by way of helping.
When their captor returned, Donna scrambled to the corner of the room, shooting nervous glances between The Doctor and the other man.
“I’ll be honest, Doctor,” The man said, leaning down and pulling The Doctor’s face to the side. “I wasn’t sure what the symptoms would be, what it would do to you. I was confident it wouldn’t kill you, but beyond that… well there’s no way to test something like this.”
The Doctor wordlessly stared at him.
“I came here ready to give you another dose, but I think I want to see this first round through to the end. This is a unique opportunity and I, like you, am a very curious entity.” Their captor stared wistfully at The Doctor. “This will be so much fun.”
“You’re sick,” Donna spat, staying huddled in her corner.
“Don’t think I don’t have things that will work on you as well.” The man said. “I have so many different drugs at my disposal, and I won’t be hesitant to use one on you.” Donna shut her mouth. “I suppose you’re no fun to play with like this,” The man mused, pouting childishly. “And I don’t want to mess with her until you’re lucid enough to watch. Well, someone will be back with food soon, I’m sure. Wonderful to see you again, Doctor.”
He left after that.
“Do you need food?” Donna asked. “I know you eat in the Tardis sometimes, but do you need to eat now?”
“N-no,” The Doctor managed to say. His voice was rough, and it sounded as though he were talking through a crushed windpipe. In reality, most of his vocal chords had frozen from the drug, making it difficult to speak.
“Really?” She watched him skeptically. He nodded minutely. “Alright.” Food did come, eventually, and Donna ate silently. “Do you think we’ll get out of here?”
Lucky for her, the drug was finally being stopped by the Doctor’s immune system. He could move his hands, and the numbness was fading further and further up his arms.
“Yes,” He replied when he was finally able to swing his legs over the side of the bed. “Let’s get out of here. Alonzy!”