Work Text:
Healing Harms
A Doctor Who Story
The medic sighed heavily. He had no idea how he was going to deal with that particular problem, though he knew where he had to start. The first thing he needed to do was talk to the Doctor and apologize for his disgusting behavior while on the planet. Knocking someone unconscious and kicking them while under the influence of an alien drug might be excusable to some, but Jothan doubted that he would be forgiven anytime in the foreseeable future.
There was also the matter of the addiction itself; he still itched all over, and while he didn't think about frelnon every moment, he thought about it more often than not, at least once every three minutes or so. It was pathetic, and he had no idea how long it would last. He wondered how long it would take before he would be back to normal, before he could put this whole mess behind him. He pulled on his socks and went to find the Time Lord. Best to start fixing things at once, he told himself.
He went to the Console Room first, guessing that his husband would still be installing the new parts they had procured for the TARDIS. He was right; he saw a pair of legs sticking out from under the control console. He was about to say something, then stopped. The Doctor hated being interrupted for little things when he was repairing the ship; it would be best to wait until the older man got to a stopping place. Jothan sat down on the jump seat and waited quietly for the Time Lord to be finished.
It wouldn't take more than a minute or two, he thought.
A minute turned into ten, and ten became twenty. Half an hour went slowly by, and still the Doctor had not said a word nor come out from under the console. It took forty minutes before Jothan realized that the Time Lord hadn't reached for a new tool the entire time Jothan had been in the room. At that point he was convinced that he had messed up badly; the Doctor didn't even want to talk to him and was waiting for him to leave. He left the room without a sound and headed disconsolately down the hall to his bedroom. He would try to get some sleep, he decided.
************
The Doctor woke with a start to find himself underneath the TARDIS console where he had been working. He was stiff and it hurt to get up, but he knew he would feel all right once he got moving again. He hadn't fallen asleep under the TARDIS for ages, he realized; he must be especially tired. He decided that he had worked enough for one day and set the tools down. He climbed to his feet and stretched to loosen up his muscles. Once done, he headed for Jothan's bedroom; he would get a full two or three hours of sleep before he got back to it.
He wasn't surprised to see Jothan already in bed, the covers pulled up around him. The medic looked up at him sadly, but said nothing. The Doctor didn't notice at first; he was busy taking off his boots and setting his jacket and shirt aside. When he saw Jothan eyeing him he realized the younger man was probably going to try to apologize right then and there. The thought made the Time Lord uncomfortable. He was too tired to work through any relationship drama at the moment, and the issue deserved more attention than he would be able to give it. Before Jothan could speak he said more curtly than he meant, “Not now. I'm tired, I'm sore, and I don't have the patience.”
He couldn't miss the spark of hurt in his husband's eyes, but he told himself it wasn't that big of a deal; Jothan was a grown-up and would get over it. He settled down next to the human, being careful to give him plenty of space in the bed. He thought about reaching out and taking the medic's hand but decided against it; he was just too tired. Within ten minutes he was dead to the world.
On the other side of the bed, Jothan held very still, the tears falling silently. Though they were next to each other in the bed, the space between them was light-years in length. The medic couldn't blame the Doctor for his anger; it had been a stupid thing to do when all he had to do was ask if the frelnon was safe for humans. It had been selfish and hurtful as well. He wasn't sure how he could ever make things right again, or even if he could. He lay as still as he could, trying not to make any noise or disturb the Time Lord's rest. After an hour he cried himself to sleep.
************
When Jothan woke in the morning he was alone in bed. He debated whether or not to get up at all; he itched and his eyes felt all puffy and he was generally miserable. He could see no use waking to a day like this. But after ten minutes of lying there he put his feet to the floor. Pretending the day hadn't started wouldn't do him much good, and the Doctor was sure to find him and roust him out of bed eventually.
The Doctor. Even thinking of his husband hurt him inside, and the tears threatened. He had no idea how he was going to fix things, or even if he could. Would they be able to get past this? What if the Doctor wanted him to leave? The medic couldn't imagine being sent back to Outpost Seventeen to live an empty life there. How could he ever go back to that existence when he had seen so much, and even become so much? It would be like sending a zoo dolphin to live in the wild for five years, and then capturing it again. He'd never get over it, and he'd wither away and die.
Not that he didn't deserve such a fate, he told himself. What he had done was careless at the start and brutal at the end. He knew that the Time Lord always wanted him to check with him before eating or drinking something; it was too easy to get poisoned or sick, and the sonic screwdriver could only do so much. He had broken that simple rule and gotten into so much trouble over it. Then there was the fact that if he'd told his husband about the frelnon right away he wouldn't have gotten hooked—or at least, he thought he wouldn't have. The medic couldn't be sure, but he didn't think the frelnon had been a problem right off.
The last was the worst. He had abused his telepathic powers to hurt the Doctor, then kicked him when he was defenseless and locked him up. All of those actions were inexcusable. There was no way around it, and it was for no other reason than selfish greed. He'd been angry, so angry that he couldn't have his frelnon, like a little toddler wanting a treat and being told no. He'd had a tantrum, and a vicious one at that. The Doctor had been trying to protect him, to save him, and Jothan went and attacked him like a rabid beast. How did one apologize for something like that?
He slowly got his things together for a shower and washed up, then went to the kitchen for breakfast. He sighed in frustration when he found that everything tasted flat and somehow flavorless. He was sure it was because of the frelnon. How many prices would he have to pay for that one mistake, he asked himself bitterly as he threw his half-eaten oatmeal in the trash.
Jothan then had to decide what to do with his day; he wasn't sure exactly what course of action to take. His husband had made it painfully clear that he was furious with Jothan, and though it was a coward's decision, he decided to put off the meeting. He told himself the Doctor wouldn't want to talk to him anyway, not with things the way they were. He knew he couldn't put off the confrontation forever; even the TARDIS wasn't that big. Still, he couldn't face the man, not with nothing to offer but petty, paltry apologies. He would have to find something else to do.
He did some laundry first; it had been a while, so there was enough work to keep him occupied for several hours while he worked out something meaningful to say to the Time Lord. Nine loads later he was still no closer on how to broach the subject, and the last towels were dried and folded. He set himself to put everything away, then headed to the kitchen to make a list of groceries to get on the next planet they landed on. As he searched the cupboards for staples he wrote down what they needed, then went into the walk-in freezer and did an inventory there. Lastly he checked the stasis box and its contents. Satisfied that he had done a good job, he sat down and went over his list. The young man thought that a trip to Earth might be necessary to re-stock; they were low on even the bare essentials like milk and bread. Other planets had reasonable equivalents of both, but it just wasn't the same. He was just going to go ask if they could head to Earth when he remembered he wasn't speaking to the Doctor, couldn't speak to him. He had forgotten his offenses so quickly. He put his head in his hands and sat for a few minutes, completely discouraged and miserable. He finally stood up and left the kitchen, heading for the Med Center. He'd see if he could find anything to ease his itching.
When he got to the Med Center he saw that it was a bit messy, so he set himself to clean up first. Once he was done he went to the medicine cabinet to look for something that might help with the itching. As he was searching the second shelf, he saw a familiar container. He hardly dared to breathe as he took it out of the cabinet, but it was there—a tiny vial of frelnon.
Jothan's thoughts whirled. He remembered that the Doctor had brought some on board in case of emergencies, saying that some of the withdrawal complications could be severe, and the location of this vial was what he had hurt the Time Lord over. Now he had it, and the Doctor would never know. He wouldn't itch anymore and things would taste right again. He would feel so good, even just for a few minutes. He ran his fingers lightly over the vial, remembering the spicy smell and the metallic, tangy taste. It was just what he wanted in that moment, just what he needed. He held the vial in his hands carefully as his fingers trembled, then made his choice.
************
The Doctor took a break from his repair work and stood, stretching. He checked his internal time sense and realized it was well past time for his husband to have appeared. The Time Lord decided to go and find him; he didn't want him brooding too much.
The bedroom was empty, which he took to be a good sign. The bathroom and kitchen were likewise unoccupied. He stopped and thought for a moment, then headed for the Med Center. Perhaps the younger man wasn't feeling well. He went to enter the room but stopped motionless in the doorway when he saw what was going on. Jothan was standing at the medicine cabinet, and he had the container of frelnon in his hands, the one he had gotten for emergencies. He wanted to stop him, wanted to cry out, but he seemed to be frozen in place and all he could do was watch, helpless.
Suddenly, the medic turned and threw the vial at the wall with all his strength. The vial shattered, spilling the contents down the wall. Jothan crumpled in a heap in front of the medicine cabinet, crying, and finally the Doctor could move. He rushed over and took his lover in his arms.
“It's all right, Jothan. It's going to be all right,” he soothed.
Jothan was having none of it; the young man was shaking as he sobbed. Again the Time Lord tried to calm the younger man. “It's going to be all right, Jothan, it will. You just wait and see.”
He rocked the medic in his arms and waited, talking softly and gently. After a long time the sobs tapered off. The Time Lord stopped rocking but held Jothan securely and waited for the medic to speak.
At last some words came. “You didn't get rid of it. Why?”
The Doctor replied calmly, “You aren't through withdrawal yet, though the worst should be over. I was just being cautious.”
“How long will it take?” Jothan asked, his voice quavering.
The Time Lord considered. “Five days more or so for the itching to fully stop. The cravings will probably last a while after that.”
Jothan started to cry again. “I just want this nightmare to be over! Why can't it be over?”
The older man sighed and started rubbing Jothan's back in circles. “Frelnon is a very difficult habit to drop. You're lucky you only were hooked for a week; it could have been much worse. I know that's no comfort for you right now . . .”
“Everything's ruined! I'll never have my life back the way it was. You'll send me back to Outpost Seventeen and—”
The Doctor sat up a bit. “What's that rubbish about Outpost Seventeen?”
The medic wailed, “That's where you'll put me! You'll send me back to the beginning.”
“Who said anything about—”
“I'm sorry!” the young man cried out wildly. “I'm so sorry!” He began to shake again.
The Doctor got to his feet and looked through the medicine cabinet, taking out a hypospray. He selected a drug and loaded it in, then crouched down and held the hypospray to the side of Jothan's neck. He delivered the medication then put the instrument down and took Jothan in his arms again, waiting. In ten minutes the medic had calmed considerably and the Time Lord started the conversation over. “Why would you think I would send you back to Outpost Seventeen, Jothan? This is your home now. We belong to and with each other. How could I possibly send you away?”
“You've been so angry,” Jothan mumbled. “You barely even look at me . . .”
The Time Lord sighed. “I've been tired, Love, tired and hurt—not angry. I didn't get any sleep while you were gone, and . . . it hurt that you would want frelnon more than me. I know addictions can be strong, and you weren't fully in your right mind . . . but it hurt.”
“I wasn't thinking,” Jothan admitted. “I should have checked, and later . . . I wanted it so much, more than anything . . . I didn't think of you at all.”
“I know you didn't,” the Doctor agreed.
Jothan was still for a moment, then said in a subdued voice, “I hurt you. I was out of control, and I hurt you—on purpose.”
The Doctor shrugged. “I wouldn't exactly call it 'on purpose', Jothan. You were in a drug-induced state, and—”
“I knew it was hurting you and I did it anyway. I wanted to hurt you.”
The Doctor looked into the medic's green eyes. “Did you want to hurt me or did you want your fix?” he asked sensibly.
The younger man looked away. “I was angry with you. You wouldn't give me what I wanted; you were in my way.”
“That doesn't answer the question, Jothan—did you want to hurt me or did you want your fix?” the Time Lord repeated.
The medic whispered, “I wanted the frelnon, more than anything in the universe.”
“Back on Hetrios when I hurt you, it was a similar situation,” the Doctor told him. “There were mitigating circumstances . . .”
“That's not the same at all!” Jothan protested. “You had no control over that; you got bitten by that thing and were poisoned. I didn't need—”
The Doctor said quietly, “In my mind, they are very much alike, Jothan. When you hurt me, you weren't any more in control of yourself than I was. That part's not what upsets me. What upsets me is that you didn't trust me enough to let me help or to listen to me. I could have helped.”
The younger man stared at the floor. “I'm sorry,” he whispered. “I didn't think there was any harm in trying some, and then . . . I felt you were trying to spoil my fun. I thought you were being mean and unreasonable.” He paused, then said almost inaudibly, “Also, I was jealous. All you cared about were the new TARDIS parts; you barely talked to me anymore.”
The Doctor sat back on his heels. “Now that was very silly to think. I always care about you, Jothan; I wouldn't have let you marry me if I didn't. You really have to get over this insecurity you have about how much I love you.” He paused, then said low, “But that's partly my own fault. We never did properly talk about what happened on Hetrios; I just went on and assumed you were all right with the situation, and maybe you weren't. Maybe you haven't been, all this time.”
Jothan shook his head. “I don't want to talk about it,” he frowned.
The Time Lord held Jothan close. “I'm not going to let it go, Jothan. You have to understand that I love you and I want you with me forever. You don't seem to be able to remember or really believe it, and you need to. I can't have you thinking I'm going to abandon you or send you back to Outpost Seventeen every time we have a row.”
The Doctor stopped talking, and positioned himself so he was sitting across from Jothan. He took the medic's hands and looked him full in the face. “There's no one in the universe like you, Jothan. My existence would be very dark and empty without you, and I've already lost so much; I can't bear to lose you as well.”
Jothan wouldn't meet the Time Lord's gaze. “You deserve someone from your own people. We're not even the same species, I can't understand one tenth of the things you can, I'm going to die so soon . . .”
The older man replied steadily, “Yes, you're going to die. Maybe tomorrow, maybe seventy years from now, but you will die, and it will rip my hearts open when it happens. But you're not dead yet, and I intend to spend every moment with you that I can, so I have lots of good memories to comfort me once you're gone. We have so little time together—why waste it worrying and wondering if you're good enough? I need you to know you're good enough as yourself to be yourself. Does that make sense?”
The medic finally looked at the Doctor. He saw love and gentleness in his eyes. “I . . . I'll try,” he gulped.
The Time Lord answered, “And for my part, I'll remind you every chance I get of how much I love you. Speaking of which, I never did give you a honeymoon like I promised. We got all caught up in the Mauve Alert near Ujumbubbit, then there was that business with the Talgarin slavers . . . and I forgot. Any suggestions?”
Jothan smiled a little. “We do need to go to Earth for some groceries. Perhaps we could go to the Arctic Circle and see the Aurora Borealis. But really, I'm not picky. Anywhere with you would be nice.”
“Well, once the TARDIS is in a good state, we have all of Space and Time before us,” the Doctor said decisively. “And it'll be all the better with you to share it with. Come now, up you get! Let's see if we can work on those amplified matrix switches.”
He pulled Jothan to his feet and put an arm around his waist as they left the Med Center.
************ Story to Follow: End Game ************