(no subject)
Challenges for Quiet, Twin and I'll do the rest tomorrow. *cue whinging*
"Doctor."
The words were quietly spoken, a prayer to a distant god that didn't listen to him. His cool fingers pressed to the Doctor's cheeks, running his thumbs down the sharp slope of the bones beneath. It had been necessary to gag the Doctor, to stop whatever words he might say. Elevens were clever.
"You weren't paying attention, Doctor. A mistake like that could make you a Twelve instead of an Eleven."
The decision to dart the Doctor with a sedative he had developed hadn't been planned. He had simply seen the Doctor and reached for his modified gun. After that, he had dragged the Doctor into his TARDIS. A short jump after that had brought them to Theta's ruined playground. Now the Doctor sat beside Theta's firepit, the flames in it giving the Doctor's skin false colour.
The duct tape over the Doctor's mouth and the strapped wound 'round his wrists, ankles and knees cut ugly stripes on skin and clothing. Theta's hands dropped away from the Doctor's face. The Doctor's bound hands were lifted, a cold kiss pressed to the palm of one.
"I was a good hand, wasn't I, Doctor? I did all you asked of me?"
The tiny squirmings and muffled demands of the Doctor were ignored as Theta curled against his side. Theta's hand spread out over the Doctor's chest, feeling the beat of his hearts. His own continued to beat and pause, waiting for one that would never answer it.
-------------
It wasn't often that Theta rested quietly. Too many of his dreams were full of the sins of the Doctor, replayed in lurid detail when his eyes closed and sleep crept in. He would shout himself awake within a half-hour, slicked in sweat and trying to fight off demons of the past that had been dead for centuries.
Tonight he slept against the Doctor in one of the spacious bedrooms of his TARDIS. Her engines purred and songs sang in digital smoothed over the rough peaks of sleep. One arm was slung around the Doctor's waist, his head resting against the Doctor's chest. With his TARDIS' music came the slow double beat of the other's hearts. Both soothed away any of the shadows that tried to rise.
His fingers found purchase in the Doctor's nightshirt, holding sleepily to it. The heat from the other's body was leeched away, covers tugged around them to be an impromptu nest. He felt a hand slide through his hair, soft words whispered in Gallifreyan on the edge of his hearing. Sleep was easy and calm, drifting on shared memories of the better, if not best days.
"Doctor."
The words were quietly spoken, a prayer to a distant god that didn't listen to him. His cool fingers pressed to the Doctor's cheeks, running his thumbs down the sharp slope of the bones beneath. It had been necessary to gag the Doctor, to stop whatever words he might say. Elevens were clever.
"You weren't paying attention, Doctor. A mistake like that could make you a Twelve instead of an Eleven."
The decision to dart the Doctor with a sedative he had developed hadn't been planned. He had simply seen the Doctor and reached for his modified gun. After that, he had dragged the Doctor into his TARDIS. A short jump after that had brought them to Theta's ruined playground. Now the Doctor sat beside Theta's firepit, the flames in it giving the Doctor's skin false colour.
The duct tape over the Doctor's mouth and the strapped wound 'round his wrists, ankles and knees cut ugly stripes on skin and clothing. Theta's hands dropped away from the Doctor's face. The Doctor's bound hands were lifted, a cold kiss pressed to the palm of one.
"I was a good hand, wasn't I, Doctor? I did all you asked of me?"
The tiny squirmings and muffled demands of the Doctor were ignored as Theta curled against his side. Theta's hand spread out over the Doctor's chest, feeling the beat of his hearts. His own continued to beat and pause, waiting for one that would never answer it.
-------------
It wasn't often that Theta rested quietly. Too many of his dreams were full of the sins of the Doctor, replayed in lurid detail when his eyes closed and sleep crept in. He would shout himself awake within a half-hour, slicked in sweat and trying to fight off demons of the past that had been dead for centuries.
Tonight he slept against the Doctor in one of the spacious bedrooms of his TARDIS. Her engines purred and songs sang in digital smoothed over the rough peaks of sleep. One arm was slung around the Doctor's waist, his head resting against the Doctor's chest. With his TARDIS' music came the slow double beat of the other's hearts. Both soothed away any of the shadows that tried to rise.
His fingers found purchase in the Doctor's nightshirt, holding sleepily to it. The heat from the other's body was leeched away, covers tugged around them to be an impromptu nest. He felt a hand slide through his hair, soft words whispered in Gallifreyan on the edge of his hearing. Sleep was easy and calm, drifting on shared memories of the better, if not best days.