Work Text:
“That was incredibly stupid,” the Doctor snapped, dragging Adric back towards the TARDIS. The sleeve of his shirt was soaked with blood, although his arm had healed completely in the last hour. “And against my direct order.”
“Someone had to grab the key,” Adric argued, trying to shake his arm free. “We would never have got out without it.”
“You stuck your hand under a motion activated blade,” the Doctor said. “Can you really not see what the issue is?”
“I’m fine!” he said, pulling his sleeve up. It was still wet with blood. His skin, however, was unbroken, if a little tender to the touch. “I’m fine, see? I helped. We got out.”
“And if you’d moved a little slower?” the Doctor demanded. “If the blade had cut your hand off?”
“Then we would’ve seen if I could grow a new hand.”
“You foolish, reckless—”
“You said if we’d made it to the labs any later, there wouldn’t have been time to get Nyssa the antidote,” Adric said, stubbornly. “I helped.”
“I would’ve figured something out. There’s no reason to—”
“You wouldn’t have figured something out in time to save Nyssa’s life. If it had been up to you, she would’ve died!” He used the Doctor’s shock and weakened grip to twist free, panting. He could still feel the echo of pain in his arm from where the trap blade had come down.
“Adric,” the Doctor said, his brow furrowing.
Adric turned and ran, and didn’t stop until he was in his bedroom, the door slammed behind him. He waited for the Doctor to come after him. He reinvented some of his old inventions to work better, work faster. He waited for the Doctor to come after him. It took nearly six hours before he accepted that that wasn’t happening, that no one at all was coming. Usually Nyssa would at least come, but he supposed she was too ill.
That was fine.
The wires in his hand snapped, leaving a dark red gash across his palm. He watched the skin knit itself back together until the only evidence left was the blood.
*
“Where are we going this time?” Adric asked, trying to look over the Doctor’s shoulder at the coordinates.
“Hm? Oh, I’m not sure,” the Doctor said, flashing him a short smile. “Actually—Adric, could you go and fetch me the, ah, trihydrochlorine converter?”
“Why do we need that?”
“It’s a surprise,” the Doctor said, his face curling into a small smile. His eyes were on him for once, only on him.
“Why do you want me to get it?” Adric asked, trying to prolong the moment.
“You’re good at finding your way around, aren’t you? If I sent Tegan, she’d just get lost.” He seemed to have mistaken Adric’s hesitation for reluctance, and added, “Please.”
“Alright,” he said, and disappeared into the corridors. “But don’t go without me or I’ll get lost outside the TARDIS.”
“I need the trihydrochlorine converter, remember?”
You could’ve said you wouldn’t leave without me, Adric thought sourly, but went anyway. Better this than Tegan drawing lipstick lines on the walls again.
It didn’t take Adric long to find a storeroom with trihydrochlorine converters in. The door was marked, for once, although it was in circular Gallifreyan and there was only so much that Adric could read, but he’d been here once before, and he knew what a trihydrochlorine converter was, so it wasn’t that hard. From there it didn’t take long to navigate back to the control room, only to find that the doors wouldn’t open.
“Doctor?” he called. “Doctor!” Only silence. “Nyssa? Doctor, open the door! Nyssa, please—Tegan, this isn’t funny—”
That was when he noticed the note, tucked under the door as if slipped underneath it as an afterthought. It was scrawled in the Doctor’s calligraphy, and it took Adric’s eyes a moment to adjust.
Adric –
After you got hurt last time I won’t be taking you anywhere unless I’m certain there is no danger. Stay put, we’ll be back shortly; if not, it’s not safe for you anyway. Sit tight. We’ll bring you something back.
The Doctor
His fingers curled around the edge of the paper, crushing it. The Doctor had lied to him—tricked him—because he could not trust him. Worse, because he—
Adric had done the right thing; he was sure of that. He had healed in minutes, and it had saved Nyssa’s life, and he was fine. The Doctor was only angry because he liked to be obeyed. This—this grounding, this enforced safety, was unnecessary.
He had been right, he knew he had been right—the Doctor was wrong—it wasn’t fair—
And yet his eyes burnt something fierce, no matter how much he blinked them back. He wasn’t a child, he was—he had been right, he had helped, why wouldn’t the Doctor just—
Then tears were falling hot and heavy down his face, no matter how much he scrubbed at them. He felt so very small, small and stupid and unwanted, and the trihydrochloride converter the Doctor clearly didn’t need was still in his hand and he wound his arm back and pitched it down the corridor, watched it hit the wall and slide down, and found he didn’t feel better at all.
The paper had fallen from his fingertips. He picked it up, smoothed it out, then crushed it into his pocket. His stupid body was still crying. He kicked the inner doors, just once, then turned and walked back to his room. His foot didn’t even hurt by the time he got there.
*
“Adric?” the Doctor called, knocking on his door. Adric pulled his head out of the covers enough to see that the bolt was still firm on the door. “Adric, are you in there? I saw the smashed converter—”
“Go away,” he said. He’d meant for it to come out harsh, but mostly he sounded listless.
“Oh, good. You’re alive. Listen, we got you a—”
“I said go away,” he said again, louder this time, crueller.
“There’s no need to be like that. Are you sulking?”
“Why can’t you just leave me alone?”
“If this is about leaving you behind—”
“Just go away!” Adric cried, pitching the nearest thing at the door. It hit with a satisfactory crunch, then fell. There was a long moment, and then he heard the Doctor’s footsteps as he walked away. He still didn’t feel any better.