The road less travelled...

Title: Finding A Way Home – Sacrifices 2/3
Author: katherine_b
Rating: PG
Summary: The half-human Doctor has made the ultimate sacrifice.
A/N: Oops, it appears I may have forgotten to put a little ‘Part I’ on my title for the first part of this. I do apologise! ;-)
A/N 2: Written for the fifty-first weekly drabble challenge with the prompt ‘brave’.
A/N 3: If you can bear it, eriknannie4evr has made me a picture to illustrate the last part. It’s at the end of the story, so feel free to have a look.

Part II

Something’s pressing on his face, around his mouth and nose. It’s horrible – smells of plastic and reminds him of the Autons. He wants to get away from it, but he can’t move his head. Instead, with a massive effort, he manages to move a hand, trying to aim it towards his face, to get rid of whatever it is.

“Easy there, hero.” The Time Lord’s voice is hoarse, as if he hasn’t had enough sleep, or perhaps as if he’s been crying, and then the other man’s fingers are warm on his hand, gently holding it still. “Let me take it off.”

The pressure around his mouth and nose lifts, and he manages to turn his face to the side to get away from the sickening scent. A strange sensation, almost like pain but not quite, prickles down the length of his body, and he shudders.

“Just removing the last of the machines,” the Doctor tells him. “There!”

Immediately the weight that had been making it so hard to move lifts and he can open his eyes to the white light of the TARDIS infirmary. He stares unseeingly for a moment before blinking and then he realises he’s reclining in bed. The TARDIS healing cell is hooked up to the wall beside him, explaining why movement was so difficult. He lets his gaze travel around the room, coming to rest on the slightly red-eyed Doctor standing next to him.

“Welcome back,” that man says, attempting to smile.

“Not going to call me an idiot this time then,” the Doctor in bed retorts faintly, remembering the last time they were in this situation, after he left Pete’s universe.

A glint of instant understanding makes the other man’s eyes sparkle as a faint grin tugs at the corners of his mouth.

“I probably should,” he shoots back, wiping the heel of his left hand across his eye while he passes over a cup with the other. “Would it make you feel any better?”

“Not really.” He shrugs, sipping the water the other man has given him, and stretches a little, feeling stronger. “The only thing I need right now is to know that Donna’s all right.”

“I’ll call her and you can see for yourself.” The man in brown crosses to the intercom on the wall, but stops before activating it. “You know she’s going to slap you, right? She’s been saving up for it for days, using it as a way to stay positive, to convince herself that you’d be okay.”

“I bet she has.” The invalid grins properly as he raises the bed into a sitting position and puts the glass on a table beside the bed. “Maybe I should hide instead.”

“Too late.” The Time Lord stops with his hand about to push the button. “She’s coming.”

Focusing, the other man also hears footsteps hesitate in the hallway outside, before the door gives a soft beep and starts to slide open.

“Sleeping Beauty’s awake at last,” the brown-clad Doctor announces even before the door is fully open, and then a ginger-haired storm erupts into the room.

“What?” Donna demands, her eyes as wild as her hair. “Where? I’m going to kill him!”

“Well, that would be a waste,” the man in bed tells her, meeting her gaze and managing a somewhat nervous grin, “after everything the TARDIS did to keep me alive.”

“Oh, my God.” She stops short, the anger gone in an instant, and she stares at him as if she can’t believe what she’s seeing, her mouth falling open. “You really are,” she chokes out. “I… I thought…”

“I know.” He holds out his arms and she falls into them, her head tucked in under his chin, damp patches from the tears she can’t hold back soaking the hospital gown he only now realises he’s wearing. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers into her hair.

“You better be,” she mumbles against his chest, tightening her hold around him and sniffing. “I should kill you for doing it at all!” she exclaims suddenly, pushing herself back away from him, a glare on her features. “You idiot!”

“Ah, there it is,” the man in bed chuckles, glancing at the other Doctor. “I was starting to wonder if I was on the TARDIS at all without that sort of greeting.”

The Time Lord tries to smile, but it comes out as more of a grimace. When Donna looks questioningly at her husband, that man shakes his head.

“Later,” he promises. “It’s not important.”

Donna drops onto the bed, one hand linked with that of the man between the sheets and the other wiping at a tear trickling down her cheek.

“Why did you do it though?” she demands almost angrily. “I mean, it was brave and everything – or maybe just stupid, I’m not sure. It wouldn’t have killed me, and it did kill you! God only knows how you’re even alive now! Or am I just dreaming that you are?”

“Definitely no dream,” the other man tells her, crossing to the bed and sitting next to her, his eyes fixed on the other Doctor. “Good question though. Why did you do it?”

The man in bed sighs, knowing he can’t keep his little secret any longer. Actually, he should be glad to have managed to have it all to himself for this long. Besides, it’s not as if either of them are going to be unhappy about it! He’s just enjoyed knowing something they didn’t.

“Well, actually,” he tells Donna resignedly, although there’s a little quiver of excitement in his stomach as he waits for her reaction, “I didn’t do it for you.”

“For him then?” She nods at her husband. “I don’t think…”

“Not even for him,” he interrupts. “Nor for me, or for your mother or for Wilf.” He reaches out a hand and gently places it on her belly, keeping his eyes linked with hers. His voice is soft as he speaks. “I did it for them.”

A frown appears on Donna’s face, but the Doctor is quicker and his eyes widen, his hands sliding around Donna’s waist and coming to rest on her stomach as the other Doctor sits back, satisfied with the reaction. Donna gasps as realisation hits and places her hands on those of her husband, linking their fingers.

“How did you know?” she demands, a tiny bit of resentment in her voice, as if he’s been creeping around in her room and going through her things.

“The same way I knew to come back after the meta-crisis.” He taps his temple. “I felt it.”

“How?!” she shoots back.

He can’t help rolling his eyes at the tone of her voice.

“Donna, I felt you were in pain across universes, when communication should have been impossible and every bond should have broken,” he reminds her mockingly. “After that, do you think it was so hard for me to realize that you’re pregnant? I’ve known ever since the first moment!”

“Which was when?” she asks eagerly.

“Thirteen weeks, four days and about nine Earth hours ago,” he admits. “You’re into your second trimester. Just.”

“How did you not realize?” the original Doctor asks his wife, and Donna shakes her head.

“I was about to ask you the same question,” she admits somewhat sheepishly. “I don’t know really. It’s so hard to measure time on the TARDIS that I just thought I was imagining things. That maybe, because I wanted it to happen so badly…”

“We both do,” her husband assures her, dipping his head to capture her lips in a gentle kiss. “So much.”

She reaches up, her hand stroking the stubble on his cheek and her eyes closing as she leans against him. He tightens his hold around her, and when the kiss ends, he rests his head against hers.

“But you said…” Donna’s voice, full of wonder, trails off to as she looks back down at herself, her fingers trailing lightly over the clothing across her middle. “You said it wasn’t possible,” she reminds him.

“It wasn’t,” he agrees. “Not when you were human. But you’re not,” he goes on, reaching up to smooth the backs of his fingers down her cheek. “Not anymore.”

“Mm.” She kisses him again. “I forget that sometimes.”

The man in bed can’t help smiling. They try to hide a lot of their affection in front of him, as if afraid that he’ll feel left out, but the romantic side of him does love the occasional glimpses he gets. Besides, they’re so clearly happy right now that they’ve probably completely forgotten he’s there.

He starts to pull himself upright in bed, only to feel a strange pressure on the right side of his chest that causes him to sink back against the pillow, pressing his hand to the place where the bullet entered.

Frowning, he looks down, pulling away the neck of his gown to peer at his chest, where he expects to see bandages. He’s worried that the movement might have caused the wound to begin bleeding again.

He stares at his chest, unable to believe what he’s seeing.

Next Part