![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Title: Finding A Way Home – Living Memory Part 4/4
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
katherine_b
Rating: G
Summary: Back on Earth, the Doctors have some business to take care of.
A/N: Yes,juliet316 this is that story or the beginning of it. Get the bunker ready!
A/N 2: Written as a result of a prompt fromvickysg1 who pointed out that they have to find a name for the Adipose.
A/N 3: Written for the 28th Travellers’ Tales with the prompt ‘stairs’.
Part IV
The Adipose, mid-leap, suddenly spots the stranger at the table and turns to stare at her with its unblinking black eyes. Its little hands are clasped in front of its fatty body and it rocks slightly on its feet.
“Is it meant to do that?” Verity asks suddenly.
“Do what?” the Time Lord demands in rather anxious tones.
Verity lifts her gaze to his and manages a wry smile. “Sort of, I don’t know, hypnotise me into thinking it’s one of the cutest things in the entire universe.”
Donna and her husband chuckle, even as the other man lets out a surreptitious sigh of relief that Verity isn’t afraid.
“Actually, no, it just means you have a soft spot for small, cuddly creatures,” Donna assures Verity. “They are awfully hard to resist, aren’t they? Or this one is anyway.”
“What’s its name?” asks Verity, holding out a tentative hand to the Adipose.
The little creature grabs her index finger in both of his and begins tugging on it, as if trying to get her to jump on the table and dance with him.
“Hey now,” the half-human Doctor scolds, casting a sideways glance at the woman beside him. “What did I teach you about shaking hands?”
The Adipose lets out a little ‘aww’ of regret and makes a very respectable attempt at giving Verity’s fingers an enthusiastic shake.
“And you still haven’t told me what it is,” adds that woman as she finally gets her hand back.
“It’s an Adipose,” the man beside her explains. “They come from a series of planet in the Isop Galaxy. They have home and breeding planets there.”
“Can we go there?” Verity’s eagerness is undeniable, and the man in blue feels as a knot of tension inside him is released at her obvious enthusiasm.
“Well, not at this moment,” interrupts the other Doctor. “Our food is here.”
In one smooth movement, he scoops the Adipose into his pocket just as the waiter comes over with the meals for Donna and Verity, as well as one of the bowls of chips.
“You know,” Verity remarks as the remaining food arrives, “you still haven’t told me what its name is.”
“That’s because it doesn’t have one,” admits the Time Lord. “They don’t, back home, and I suppose we never got around to giving it one.”
“We should though,” adds Donna.
“Break out the baby-naming books again?” teases the other Doctor. “How long will it take you to pick one this time? I mean, it only took six months for the twins, right? Still, I suppose there were two of them.”
As the other Doctor rolls his eyes, Donna glances at Verity and asks, “What would you call it?”
“I don’t even know if it’s a boy or a girl,” retorts the other woman.
“Actually, it’s neither,” admits the Doctor, letting the Adipose out of his pocket again.
The little creature runs and picks up the salt shaker, carefully shaking it over the bowl of chips between Donna and her husband. It does the same with the pepper, but before it can repeat the performance on the other bowl of chips, the half-human Doctor waves a hand at it, not willing to garnish the dish in the usual way in case Verity doesn’t like it. The Adipose sits down with a small huff and stares at the others.
“Adipose don’t have genders, not in the same way that humans do,” the Time Lord continues.
“You called it a ‘him’ though,” Verity says, glancing at Donna and then the Doctor in blue. “Why do that if it’s not male?”
“Because saying ‘it’ all the time gets rather difficult,” admits the man beside her.
“And because it has far more male than female characteristics,” adds Donna with a teasing glance at the two men. “Starting with immaturity...”
“Hey!”
Verity joins in Donna’s giggles at the Doctors’ shared indignation, and even the Adipose kicks its little feet against the table-cloth and lets out a gurgling chuckle.
“I don’t know,” Verity says thoughtfully when they have calmed down. “I know it’s rather corny and cheesy, but I’d almost be inclined to call it Addy or something, short for Addison, you know.”
“D’you know,” Donna replies, “I like it.”
“Addy the Addipose,” the Time Lord tries it out, “it does have a ring to it.”
Verity glances at the man beside her. “Do you like it?” she asks almost anxiously.
“I do.” He smiles. “I think it’s perfect.”
She smiles in response and turns to her meal, although she shakes her head when he pushes the chips closer.
“Well, I got them for both of us,” he tells her. “So I hope you’ll help me by having at least some.”
“Besides, if you don’t eat them,” Donna adds, gesturing at her husband, “then I can promise you that he will!”
“Or Addy would,” says the Time Lord with a hurt expression on his face. “He goes for leftovers.”
“Yes, when there are any,” Donna retorts. “Which isn’t often!”
Verity giggles quietly at this, exchanging amused glancing with the other Doctor, who grins at her and nudges the bowl between them again. With a slight roll of her eyes, Verity stabs several of the chips and transfers them to her plate. Satisfied, the half-human Doctor sits back in his chair and then tries to fight off Addy, who has decided that he wants to sample the wine.
“Can’t he drink alcohol then?” asks Verity with interest as the man in blue finally succeeds in saving his glass.
“It’s not a good idea,” the man seated beside her explains. “Most non-oxygen-breathing life-forms can’t tolerate it well, and with his size and constituency, it probably wouldn’t be good to see what might happen.”
“Could be fun though,” suggests the other Doctor rather wickedly.
“So you’re going to nurse him through the alcohol poisoning, not to mention the hangover,” retorts the other man sarcastically. “Gee, I didn’t think you had it in you, Doctor!”
“Verity’s confused by something,” puts in Donna. “And you two carrying on means she’s not able to ask her question.”
The Doctors stop their teasing immediately and the half-human Doctor turns to the woman next to him. “What did you want to know?”
“Well,” she begins rather hesitantly, gesturing at the Adipose, “you implied that he doesn’t need to breathe.”
“No, he doesn’t,” he agrees.
“Do you?”
The question comes out so sharply that the half-human Doctor almost starts. He gains control of himself at the last moment, though, and is able to reply calmly, “Yes.”
“All the time?”
He nods. “I do,” he waves at the two opposite them, “but they don’t. Not all the time.”
“It’s more comfortable though,” adds the Time Lord. “But Donna and I have what’s called a respiratory bypass. We can cope for a short time without breathing.”
“But you don’t have one?” Verity, speaking to the man in blue, looks puzzled. “Why not?”
“Remember,” he says gently, “how I told you about the fact that I’ve only existed in a linear timeline for six years? Well,” as she nods, “because the meta-crisis involved both part of the Doctor,” he nods at the man opposite, “and part of Donna, I have some elements in me that are Time Lord and others that are human. The human part includes a respiratory system the same as yours.”
“But you just said,” Verity objects, turning to the other Doctor, “that you and Donna are the same. How can she have that bypass system if she’s human?”
“She was human,” that man explains quietly, “at the time of the meta-crisis. But she became Time Lord when we got married.”
Verity nods slowly, her mind clearly racing with all of the new information she is being forced to absorb.
“You knew,” the Time Lord reminds her gently, “that the Doctor wasn’t like you. That he might look humanoid, but that he isn’t human.”
“Just because you hear the words said,” Donna offers, “it doesn’t mean you can comprehend the full magnitude of it immediately. I remember that only too well.”
“No, I suppose not,” her husband agrees.
Verity watches them for a moment before turning to the man beside her. “Which,” she asks softly, “came first – humans or Time Lords?”
“Time Lords,” he replies in similar tones. “Definitely Time Lords.”
“So why call them humanoid?” she asks in curious but teasing tones, and he laughs.
“Because Time Lord-oid just sounds wrong!”
“I suppose so,” she agrees with a smile.
The bill arrives at this moment, the other Doctor having called for it some time earlier, and once they have paid, the group gets up to leave the now-empty restaurant.
“So, then,” the Time Lord says as he leads the way down the stairs, “TARDIS?”
“Yes please,” agrees Donna rather wearily, but the other Doctor sees the eagerness in Verity’s eyes and can’t help smiling to himself, even as he ensures that Addy is out of sight in his pocket.
The Time Lord happens to look up at the same moment and grins, moving back up a few steps in the direction of the others.
There is a tiny click as he puts his hand on the fine metal balustrade that runs the length of the staircase.
It is such an insignificant sound that it seems impossible to those thinking back on it later that it could have such profound implications for all that is to come.
Things don’t move in slow motion. They happen so terrifyingly quickly that it’s impossible for anyone to stop it.
One instant he is there, standing on the step, smiling up at them, and then next he’s gone, the faulty railing, hanging loose, the only definite sign of what has taken place.
The Doctor has no memory of how he gets down those stairs. He is on his knees beside his doppelganger before he is even consciously aware of it.
The Time Lord is lying on the stone floor, silent and unmoving, completely unconscious. No blood though, so clearly he had time to put himself into a coma, to stop the flow of blood in his veins that means he won’t bleed to death here on the floor. The Doctor rests his hands lightly on the motionless chest to feel for the two hearts. One has stopped, but the other is managing an irregular pulse.
He’s still alive, but only just.
Donna’s hands close over the Doctor’s shoulders, the desperation obvious in the fierceness of her grasp on the blue fabric.
“He’s not dead,” the Doctor is quick to promise, breaking free of her grasp, standing and turning to face her.
Her face is ash-white, an expression beyond terror darkening her blue eyes, which are fixed on the unconscious man’s face.
“Donna?” He gets her attention, makes her look at him through sheer force of will. She drags her eyes to meet his and he can see how she is refusing to let herself feel anything. “He’s not dead,” he insists almost through gritted teeth. “I promise.”
She’s shaking, the shock flooding through her, disbelief and heartbreak. He needs time – time he hasn’t got – to reassure her, to comfort her, but much as she needs all that and so much more, he has other priorities now.
His brain works automatically, planning, making decisions, refusing to let emotions intrude. He fishes the sonic screwdriver out of his pocket and calls the TARDIS to them. They don’t have time to waste, carrying the Doctor there. Thankfully, he remembers, they corrected the system back on the planet where they destroyed the Hongorat, so the TARDIS will arrive without any problem or delay.
It materialises the next moment and he flings open the doors before returning to the other man’s side. Carefully, as if the unconscious Doctor could feel it, he slides his arms beneath the brown-clad legs and shoulders. Adrenalin pulsing through him makes the weight feel like nothing as he lifts the limp body off the cold stone floor, attempting to project some of his own warmth into the Time Lord, to get the second heat beating again, to waken the brain. To bring him back.
Through the console room, he finds that the infirmary has been moved to be the first of the lower rooms and it is already warm, with the sheet on the bed peeled back. Brilliant TARDIS, always aware of what will be needed and when.
He gently lowers the motionless body on to the raised bed before detaching the healing pod from its hook on the wall and placing it over the other man’s face and head. The first of the emotions trickles back as, with the push of a button, he turns it on.
Instantly the room is filled with muted clicks, hums and beeps. Machines turn themselves on, recording every biological reaction of the man on the bed, whom the Doctor temporarily covers with the sheet. He can change him in to a medical gown later. For now, the TARDIS must have a chance to do what she can for her master.
Then the sound of a stifled sob reaches his ears and he turns to find Donna in the doorway, a hand covering her mouth, the other resting on the belly where the twins are growing. Tears are coursing down her colourless cheeks, making her red eyes stand out as if they were painted on.
He crosses the room, wordlessly taking her hand and guiding her to a padded chair. She fights him for a moment as he tries to seat her, before sinking almost bonelessly into it, continuing to stare, wide-eyed, at her unconscious husband.
“Donna.” His voice is so emotionless that he scarcely recognises it as his own. This is the Doctor’s voice, one he uses so rarely that he almost forgets he owns it. “Donna, look at me.”
Her eyes roll up in his direction, but he doubts she is seeing him. His fingers close around her shoulders, the grip firm, almost painful. He hates hurting her, but this is the worst possible state for her to be in and he has to break it as soon as possible.
She gasps, her eyes fill with tears, and she blinks, focusing on his face. For a second she stares at him before almost collapsing forward, burying her face, as best she can in his chest. He holds her, letting her sob, getting her past the initial stage of shock, an unhealthy one for any person, but particularly someone in her condition. He has to reduce the risk that she could go in to premature labour and, short of pumping her full of drugs, this is the only thing he can think off.
At last, though, she relaxes the grasp she has around his back and pulls away, wiping at her face. He pulls a handkerchief from his pocket and presses it into her hands as he waits for her to speak.
“W-will,” her voice shakes, “will he regenerate?”
“No.”
He feels her start in surprise at this unexpected answer and looks down to find her staring up at him in bewilderment.
“But – he’s a Time Lord!”
“Donna, listen to me.” He makes a long arm and pulls over another chair to sit opposite her so that they are on eye level. “Regeneration takes conscious decision-making. He didn’t have the time for that and he knew it. He put himself into a healing coma instead. That’s why there’s no blood. But it means he can’t regenerate. Not now and not when he wakes up.”
“When?” There is desperate hope in her eyes. “He will wake up?”
“I hope so.” He has to be honest with her, even though he hates it. “But Donna,” his fingers tighten on hers, “I don’t know how long he’s going to be like that. And the longer he stays unconscious, the greater the possibility that...”
“...he might never wake up,” she finishes for him, and all he can do is nod.
He stands up and sees panic flicker in her eyes. “I’m going to get us out of here,” he tells her, and she nods, her eyes travelling back to the bed as he leaves the room.
The flash of purple near the entrance to the TARDIS startles him and he realises he has forgotten entirely about Verity. She is standing just inside the closed doors and looks up as he enters.
“I didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye.”
“Leave?” He crosses the floor in a few strides and stops in front of her. “What do you mean, leave?”
“Doctor, I’d be more of a burden than a help right now.” Her voice is firm, although she can’t quite meet his gaze. “You don’t need someone who knows nothing about what’s going on, who will only ask silly questions and get in the way.”
He opens his mouth to contradict her, but the words won’t come.
Much as he hates to admit it, she’s right. And what’s more, he can hardly show her the glories of the Universe and all of the things she’s wanted to see if they are busy with the other Doctor.
It’s like the time with Joan, he realises in a flash of aggravated inspiration. She gave up all of her hopes and dreams – their hopes and dreams! – by persuading him to revert from a human into a Time Lord. And now her great-granddaughter is making a similar sacrifice.
“I will come back for you,” he says at last, his voice sombre. “I promise.”
“If you can,” she replies softly, and he suspects there are tears glistening in her eyes, but she still won’t meet his gaze, so he can’t be sure, “I’d like that.”
He bends down a little, brushing his lips lightly against her cheek, before opening the door. She slips out almost before he gets it fully open and disappears into the crowd of restaurant staff that is gathered around the TARDIS.
Before any of them can speak, he slams the door shut again and has the TARDIS into the vortex before Verity can even reach the street.
A Bitter Blow
Author:
katherine_b Rating: G
Summary: Back on Earth, the Doctors have some business to take care of.
A/N: Yes,
juliet316 this is that story or the beginning of it. Get the bunker ready!A/N 2: Written as a result of a prompt from
vickysg1 who pointed out that they have to find a name for the Adipose. A/N 3: Written for the 28th Travellers’ Tales with the prompt ‘stairs’.
Part IV
The Adipose, mid-leap, suddenly spots the stranger at the table and turns to stare at her with its unblinking black eyes. Its little hands are clasped in front of its fatty body and it rocks slightly on its feet.
“Is it meant to do that?” Verity asks suddenly.
“Do what?” the Time Lord demands in rather anxious tones.
Verity lifts her gaze to his and manages a wry smile. “Sort of, I don’t know, hypnotise me into thinking it’s one of the cutest things in the entire universe.”
Donna and her husband chuckle, even as the other man lets out a surreptitious sigh of relief that Verity isn’t afraid.
“Actually, no, it just means you have a soft spot for small, cuddly creatures,” Donna assures Verity. “They are awfully hard to resist, aren’t they? Or this one is anyway.”
“What’s its name?” asks Verity, holding out a tentative hand to the Adipose.
The little creature grabs her index finger in both of his and begins tugging on it, as if trying to get her to jump on the table and dance with him.
“Hey now,” the half-human Doctor scolds, casting a sideways glance at the woman beside him. “What did I teach you about shaking hands?”
The Adipose lets out a little ‘aww’ of regret and makes a very respectable attempt at giving Verity’s fingers an enthusiastic shake.
“And you still haven’t told me what it is,” adds that woman as she finally gets her hand back.
“It’s an Adipose,” the man beside her explains. “They come from a series of planet in the Isop Galaxy. They have home and breeding planets there.”
“Can we go there?” Verity’s eagerness is undeniable, and the man in blue feels as a knot of tension inside him is released at her obvious enthusiasm.
“Well, not at this moment,” interrupts the other Doctor. “Our food is here.”
In one smooth movement, he scoops the Adipose into his pocket just as the waiter comes over with the meals for Donna and Verity, as well as one of the bowls of chips.
“You know,” Verity remarks as the remaining food arrives, “you still haven’t told me what its name is.”
“That’s because it doesn’t have one,” admits the Time Lord. “They don’t, back home, and I suppose we never got around to giving it one.”
“We should though,” adds Donna.
“Break out the baby-naming books again?” teases the other Doctor. “How long will it take you to pick one this time? I mean, it only took six months for the twins, right? Still, I suppose there were two of them.”
As the other Doctor rolls his eyes, Donna glances at Verity and asks, “What would you call it?”
“I don’t even know if it’s a boy or a girl,” retorts the other woman.
“Actually, it’s neither,” admits the Doctor, letting the Adipose out of his pocket again.
The little creature runs and picks up the salt shaker, carefully shaking it over the bowl of chips between Donna and her husband. It does the same with the pepper, but before it can repeat the performance on the other bowl of chips, the half-human Doctor waves a hand at it, not willing to garnish the dish in the usual way in case Verity doesn’t like it. The Adipose sits down with a small huff and stares at the others.
“Adipose don’t have genders, not in the same way that humans do,” the Time Lord continues.
“You called it a ‘him’ though,” Verity says, glancing at Donna and then the Doctor in blue. “Why do that if it’s not male?”
“Because saying ‘it’ all the time gets rather difficult,” admits the man beside her.
“And because it has far more male than female characteristics,” adds Donna with a teasing glance at the two men. “Starting with immaturity...”
“Hey!”
Verity joins in Donna’s giggles at the Doctors’ shared indignation, and even the Adipose kicks its little feet against the table-cloth and lets out a gurgling chuckle.
“I don’t know,” Verity says thoughtfully when they have calmed down. “I know it’s rather corny and cheesy, but I’d almost be inclined to call it Addy or something, short for Addison, you know.”
“D’you know,” Donna replies, “I like it.”
“Addy the Addipose,” the Time Lord tries it out, “it does have a ring to it.”
Verity glances at the man beside her. “Do you like it?” she asks almost anxiously.
“I do.” He smiles. “I think it’s perfect.”
She smiles in response and turns to her meal, although she shakes her head when he pushes the chips closer.
“Well, I got them for both of us,” he tells her. “So I hope you’ll help me by having at least some.”
“Besides, if you don’t eat them,” Donna adds, gesturing at her husband, “then I can promise you that he will!”
“Or Addy would,” says the Time Lord with a hurt expression on his face. “He goes for leftovers.”
“Yes, when there are any,” Donna retorts. “Which isn’t often!”
Verity giggles quietly at this, exchanging amused glancing with the other Doctor, who grins at her and nudges the bowl between them again. With a slight roll of her eyes, Verity stabs several of the chips and transfers them to her plate. Satisfied, the half-human Doctor sits back in his chair and then tries to fight off Addy, who has decided that he wants to sample the wine.
“Can’t he drink alcohol then?” asks Verity with interest as the man in blue finally succeeds in saving his glass.
“It’s not a good idea,” the man seated beside her explains. “Most non-oxygen-breathing life-forms can’t tolerate it well, and with his size and constituency, it probably wouldn’t be good to see what might happen.”
“Could be fun though,” suggests the other Doctor rather wickedly.
“So you’re going to nurse him through the alcohol poisoning, not to mention the hangover,” retorts the other man sarcastically. “Gee, I didn’t think you had it in you, Doctor!”
“Verity’s confused by something,” puts in Donna. “And you two carrying on means she’s not able to ask her question.”
The Doctors stop their teasing immediately and the half-human Doctor turns to the woman next to him. “What did you want to know?”
“Well,” she begins rather hesitantly, gesturing at the Adipose, “you implied that he doesn’t need to breathe.”
“No, he doesn’t,” he agrees.
“Do you?”
The question comes out so sharply that the half-human Doctor almost starts. He gains control of himself at the last moment, though, and is able to reply calmly, “Yes.”
“All the time?”
He nods. “I do,” he waves at the two opposite them, “but they don’t. Not all the time.”
“It’s more comfortable though,” adds the Time Lord. “But Donna and I have what’s called a respiratory bypass. We can cope for a short time without breathing.”
“But you don’t have one?” Verity, speaking to the man in blue, looks puzzled. “Why not?”
“Remember,” he says gently, “how I told you about the fact that I’ve only existed in a linear timeline for six years? Well,” as she nods, “because the meta-crisis involved both part of the Doctor,” he nods at the man opposite, “and part of Donna, I have some elements in me that are Time Lord and others that are human. The human part includes a respiratory system the same as yours.”
“But you just said,” Verity objects, turning to the other Doctor, “that you and Donna are the same. How can she have that bypass system if she’s human?”
“She was human,” that man explains quietly, “at the time of the meta-crisis. But she became Time Lord when we got married.”
Verity nods slowly, her mind clearly racing with all of the new information she is being forced to absorb.
“You knew,” the Time Lord reminds her gently, “that the Doctor wasn’t like you. That he might look humanoid, but that he isn’t human.”
“Just because you hear the words said,” Donna offers, “it doesn’t mean you can comprehend the full magnitude of it immediately. I remember that only too well.”
“No, I suppose not,” her husband agrees.
Verity watches them for a moment before turning to the man beside her. “Which,” she asks softly, “came first – humans or Time Lords?”
“Time Lords,” he replies in similar tones. “Definitely Time Lords.”
“So why call them humanoid?” she asks in curious but teasing tones, and he laughs.
“Because Time Lord-oid just sounds wrong!”
“I suppose so,” she agrees with a smile.
The bill arrives at this moment, the other Doctor having called for it some time earlier, and once they have paid, the group gets up to leave the now-empty restaurant.
“So, then,” the Time Lord says as he leads the way down the stairs, “TARDIS?”
“Yes please,” agrees Donna rather wearily, but the other Doctor sees the eagerness in Verity’s eyes and can’t help smiling to himself, even as he ensures that Addy is out of sight in his pocket.
The Time Lord happens to look up at the same moment and grins, moving back up a few steps in the direction of the others.
There is a tiny click as he puts his hand on the fine metal balustrade that runs the length of the staircase.
It is such an insignificant sound that it seems impossible to those thinking back on it later that it could have such profound implications for all that is to come.
Things don’t move in slow motion. They happen so terrifyingly quickly that it’s impossible for anyone to stop it.
One instant he is there, standing on the step, smiling up at them, and then next he’s gone, the faulty railing, hanging loose, the only definite sign of what has taken place.
The Doctor has no memory of how he gets down those stairs. He is on his knees beside his doppelganger before he is even consciously aware of it.
The Time Lord is lying on the stone floor, silent and unmoving, completely unconscious. No blood though, so clearly he had time to put himself into a coma, to stop the flow of blood in his veins that means he won’t bleed to death here on the floor. The Doctor rests his hands lightly on the motionless chest to feel for the two hearts. One has stopped, but the other is managing an irregular pulse.
He’s still alive, but only just.
Donna’s hands close over the Doctor’s shoulders, the desperation obvious in the fierceness of her grasp on the blue fabric.
“He’s not dead,” the Doctor is quick to promise, breaking free of her grasp, standing and turning to face her.
Her face is ash-white, an expression beyond terror darkening her blue eyes, which are fixed on the unconscious man’s face.
“Donna?” He gets her attention, makes her look at him through sheer force of will. She drags her eyes to meet his and he can see how she is refusing to let herself feel anything. “He’s not dead,” he insists almost through gritted teeth. “I promise.”
She’s shaking, the shock flooding through her, disbelief and heartbreak. He needs time – time he hasn’t got – to reassure her, to comfort her, but much as she needs all that and so much more, he has other priorities now.
His brain works automatically, planning, making decisions, refusing to let emotions intrude. He fishes the sonic screwdriver out of his pocket and calls the TARDIS to them. They don’t have time to waste, carrying the Doctor there. Thankfully, he remembers, they corrected the system back on the planet where they destroyed the Hongorat, so the TARDIS will arrive without any problem or delay.
It materialises the next moment and he flings open the doors before returning to the other man’s side. Carefully, as if the unconscious Doctor could feel it, he slides his arms beneath the brown-clad legs and shoulders. Adrenalin pulsing through him makes the weight feel like nothing as he lifts the limp body off the cold stone floor, attempting to project some of his own warmth into the Time Lord, to get the second heat beating again, to waken the brain. To bring him back.
Through the console room, he finds that the infirmary has been moved to be the first of the lower rooms and it is already warm, with the sheet on the bed peeled back. Brilliant TARDIS, always aware of what will be needed and when.
He gently lowers the motionless body on to the raised bed before detaching the healing pod from its hook on the wall and placing it over the other man’s face and head. The first of the emotions trickles back as, with the push of a button, he turns it on.
Instantly the room is filled with muted clicks, hums and beeps. Machines turn themselves on, recording every biological reaction of the man on the bed, whom the Doctor temporarily covers with the sheet. He can change him in to a medical gown later. For now, the TARDIS must have a chance to do what she can for her master.
Then the sound of a stifled sob reaches his ears and he turns to find Donna in the doorway, a hand covering her mouth, the other resting on the belly where the twins are growing. Tears are coursing down her colourless cheeks, making her red eyes stand out as if they were painted on.
He crosses the room, wordlessly taking her hand and guiding her to a padded chair. She fights him for a moment as he tries to seat her, before sinking almost bonelessly into it, continuing to stare, wide-eyed, at her unconscious husband.
“Donna.” His voice is so emotionless that he scarcely recognises it as his own. This is the Doctor’s voice, one he uses so rarely that he almost forgets he owns it. “Donna, look at me.”
Her eyes roll up in his direction, but he doubts she is seeing him. His fingers close around her shoulders, the grip firm, almost painful. He hates hurting her, but this is the worst possible state for her to be in and he has to break it as soon as possible.
She gasps, her eyes fill with tears, and she blinks, focusing on his face. For a second she stares at him before almost collapsing forward, burying her face, as best she can in his chest. He holds her, letting her sob, getting her past the initial stage of shock, an unhealthy one for any person, but particularly someone in her condition. He has to reduce the risk that she could go in to premature labour and, short of pumping her full of drugs, this is the only thing he can think off.
At last, though, she relaxes the grasp she has around his back and pulls away, wiping at her face. He pulls a handkerchief from his pocket and presses it into her hands as he waits for her to speak.
“W-will,” her voice shakes, “will he regenerate?”
“No.”
He feels her start in surprise at this unexpected answer and looks down to find her staring up at him in bewilderment.
“But – he’s a Time Lord!”
“Donna, listen to me.” He makes a long arm and pulls over another chair to sit opposite her so that they are on eye level. “Regeneration takes conscious decision-making. He didn’t have the time for that and he knew it. He put himself into a healing coma instead. That’s why there’s no blood. But it means he can’t regenerate. Not now and not when he wakes up.”
“When?” There is desperate hope in her eyes. “He will wake up?”
“I hope so.” He has to be honest with her, even though he hates it. “But Donna,” his fingers tighten on hers, “I don’t know how long he’s going to be like that. And the longer he stays unconscious, the greater the possibility that...”
“...he might never wake up,” she finishes for him, and all he can do is nod.
He stands up and sees panic flicker in her eyes. “I’m going to get us out of here,” he tells her, and she nods, her eyes travelling back to the bed as he leaves the room.
The flash of purple near the entrance to the TARDIS startles him and he realises he has forgotten entirely about Verity. She is standing just inside the closed doors and looks up as he enters.
“I didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye.”
“Leave?” He crosses the floor in a few strides and stops in front of her. “What do you mean, leave?”
“Doctor, I’d be more of a burden than a help right now.” Her voice is firm, although she can’t quite meet his gaze. “You don’t need someone who knows nothing about what’s going on, who will only ask silly questions and get in the way.”
He opens his mouth to contradict her, but the words won’t come.
Much as he hates to admit it, she’s right. And what’s more, he can hardly show her the glories of the Universe and all of the things she’s wanted to see if they are busy with the other Doctor.
It’s like the time with Joan, he realises in a flash of aggravated inspiration. She gave up all of her hopes and dreams – their hopes and dreams! – by persuading him to revert from a human into a Time Lord. And now her great-granddaughter is making a similar sacrifice.
“I will come back for you,” he says at last, his voice sombre. “I promise.”
“If you can,” she replies softly, and he suspects there are tears glistening in her eyes, but she still won’t meet his gaze, so he can’t be sure, “I’d like that.”
He bends down a little, brushing his lips lightly against her cheek, before opening the door. She slips out almost before he gets it fully open and disappears into the crowd of restaurant staff that is gathered around the TARDIS.
Before any of them can speak, he slams the door shut again and has the TARDIS into the vortex before Verity can even reach the street.
A Bitter Blow
good