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The Nobles and the Doctor had settled in to their temporary accommodations. It was a lovely little safe house Kate had set them up with. There was a lovely garden with lovely moles. The Doctor thought he might be able to make this work. He could tend to the plants and the moles and the Nobles. That would be alright. He could set down the weight of the universe to care for three things. It would practically be easy.
As he often did when entering a room, he took stock of where everyone was. Sylvia and Wilf were off somewhere in the back talking about something. From where he stood in the hallway he could hear Sylvia's animated tone and Wilf's equally animated reply. Donna, Shaun, and Rose were ahead of him, bustling about in the kitchen.
He slipped into the room an accepted the warm greetings of the Noble family, got a glass of water, and settled himself in a corner to watch them move around.
Donna was talking. Continuing her story where she'd left off. "It's always Nerys stirring up trouble. Anyway, we were having a polite discussion, mind you, and she starts counting down for me to apologize, like I'm some sort of child. Like she wasn't the one that started it."
"Counting down?" Shaun asked.
"She didn't!" Rose gasped as she washed a bowl of vegetables.
"She did!" Donna affirmed. "Proper, '5,4,3,2,1' like some sort of a mad woman. So of course I said that she had better knock it off right quick or I was gonna knock her one like that."
Donna snapped. It was just a snap. That was it.
The Doctor couldn't breathe. His class dropped from his fingers. He barely heard it shatter. There was a vice wrapped around his lungs. At least it felt that way. He was there again, in Atropos, in the place outside of the universe, in a ship at the edge of the universe, in the war. It didn't matter where. He was being torn apart. Every atom falling away from him. He was dying, really properly dying.
He could feel his body. Everything was cold and covered in dust and he couldn't breathe. The universe was falling away from him. So much for being eternal. Regeneration wouldn't matter when she was dust. When he was dust. When... when...
There were arms wrapped around him. They burned hot against him even through his shirt. It was too much and not enough. He usually wore layers. Why wasn't he wearing layers? Then again, maybe he had been and they'd just blown away in the dust.
The arms pressed tighter around him. A voice cut through the sound of dust rattling against itself. Something, a hand maybe, grabbed his wrist. It was applying pressure. The hand was pulling at his wrist. It made his hair hurt. Why would-
He was falling to dust. His scalp hurt. The hand was still pulling at his wrist. He let go of what ever he was holding on to and felt fingers twine with his. A steady mind pressed against his. It felt like someone who had studied telepathy but had never used it before. Knowledgeable but clumsy. It felt familiar too.
He felt the thought before he felt another hand on his wrist. The mind wanted him to stop. To let go. But why did his hair hurt?
Oh.
He came back to his body slowly. Another warmer body was pressed against his back. They had one hand locked with his and the other tight around his wrist now that he had let go with that hand too. He could feel her long hair against the back of his neck.
Donna's mind was filled with worry. He could feel that even under the sticky sweet layer of calm and love she was sending him. Of course it was Donna.
He continued taking stock of his body. His hearts were beating to fast. An elevated blood pressure and a burst of adrenaline were still effecting him but steadily dying down. His scalp hurt. He'd pulled out a few hairs and abused the follicles of many more. His face was wet.
Oh.
That was embarrassing.
Had Rose seen? He looked up quickly to find her. His vision swam and refused to focus.
"Shh, shhh. It's alright, Doctor," Donna soothed.
"Rose?" He asked.
Donna paused. "Rose isn't here sweetheart. She's in another universe remember?"
"No. Not her." His hearts still ached with it, but it was a phantom of what it used to be. "Did... did she see?"
"Oh, Doctor." Donna sighed. "No. I sent her out once you started having a panic attack."
"Okay."
"Is it alright that I'm touching you right now?" Donna asked. The Doctor could feel a hesitation behind the question. His own mind was too frazzled to place it.
"I don't know," he told her.
"If I let go, will you start hurting yourself again?" She asked.
Ah. There it was. She didn't want to have to tell him "no" if he couldn't stand her touch but couldn't be trusted either.
He swallowed. "I think I'm past that now. Um. Could you just hold my hands?"
"Sure."
Donna shifted away from him so she was crouched infront of him. He heard glass crunch under her shoes as she moved. He cringed at the sound and knowing he'd broken something of hers. She shifted her grip so she was just holding his hands. It was gentler now but he could tell it would tighten again if she thought it was necessary. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply a few times before he opened them again.
"Back with us?" Donna asked.
He nodded shakily.
"Care to tell me what set it off?" At his expression Donna continued. "I'd rather nor repeat whatever I did that put you here if I can help it."
He swallowed. "You snapped. There was a count down and then you snapped. It reminded me- It doesn't matter."
"Course it matters."
"But it was perfectly innocent. I even found your story amusing. I- this has never happened to me before. It's been months since then. I haven't reacted to countdowns or snaps like this." He huffed in frustration.
"Doctor." Donna gently squeezed both his hands. "Unfortunately, sometimes it gets worse before it gets better. Gramps dealt with it from the war and I dealt with it even though I couldn't remember why. Sometimes, once your body feels safe, it's only then you start processing what's happened. Triggers can get worse before they start to heal."
"That's stupid," he huffed.
"Yeah, but it's what can happen and you've got a lot to work though, Spaceman."
He let himself lean forwards into her. "I'm tired."
She pet the back of his head. "I know you are. C'mon. Let's get you up. Shaun will clean up the floor later."
"Sorry about the glass."
"It's alright. We can get a new one. Or just use coffee mugs. Lord knows everyone likes to give out coffee mugs." She helped him to his feet and led him back to his room.
He sat on the edge of the bed. "Stay?"
She sat next to him and pulled him into a hug. "Wasn't planning on leaving."