Hand in the Dark [RP for aces_are_rare]

[timewill_tell]

It was nearing dusk as the Doctor and and Ace walked away from the small village, home to the Trelek people. It was a small planet, harboring only that small village, and a diverse variety of flora and fauna, but as planets went, it was one of the more unremarkable ones the Doctor had encountered. In fact, he was certain he'd never even been there

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[timewill_tell]

She made quite a few very good points, as she often did. Whenever she'd been hurt, or otherwise disabled in some way, he was more than happy to look after her. Ace was so often independent that by allowing to look after her, it made him feel good, that she would trust him to let him see her vulnerable.

"Tea would be lovely. A bit later," he smiled tiredly, removing the cloth from his forehead; it was dry now. The Doctor turned slightly onto his shoulder, trying to make himself more comfortable. The fever hadn't abated, but the cloth had helped somewhat. He certainly wouldn't admit it, but it was nice to know she would be here. Perhaps it was that part of him that worried about how things would progress with this illness. And though he'd died before, and could regenerate, it wasn't something he particularly enjoyed. He also worried...if he regenerated, would Ace stay? And then there was the issue of regenerating at all. He'd worried about the same thing in his Fifth life, when he wondered if he would regenerate into his Sixth. All these thoughts, and more, followed him into sleep. He certainly didn't have to be told more than once to rest, however, as he felt exhausted. His eyes slid closed, his thoughts troubled, his body worsening with infection.

[aces_are_rare]

The chair next to the bed was large and overstuffed with a high back and a pair of matching pillows. When Ace was sure he was asleep she moved carefully off the bed and onto the chair, not wanting to risk interrupting his sleep at all. He needed to sleep, to turn off his mind and give his body the chance to fight off the toxin.

She was tempted to slip away, run back to the village and find out something, anything, about this toxin. Had the TARDIS really said there was nothing they could do to fight it? That didn't seem right, or fair. Surely someone knew where it came from, how to fight it. She should go.

She had to stay. The TARDIS, though sometimes mischievous, would never do anything to hurt the Professor. If there was a solution to be found she would have communicated it somehow. Ace leaned back heavily into the chair and let her eyes fall closed. Just at the edge of sleep she jerked awake, her eyes wide and focused on the Professor until she saw his chest rise and fall, proof that he was still breathing. Twice more she forced herself awake before she couldn't fight any more. She fell into a fitful slumber.

[timewill_tell]

He was dreaming again, but it was unpleasant; his mind was pulling at the edges of all his worst memories and fears, bringing them to the forefront so they could be lived, made to seem real. It started easily enough, the dream; they were dancing again.

Standing on a cobblestone balcony, overlooking an ocean, their arms were threaded loosely around each other's waist, their hands linked. Ace's hair seemed soft as her head rested on his shoulder, just near his cheek. He nuzzled there, inhaling her scent, enjoying the feel of her in his arms.

Suddenly, he felt something sticky on his hands. Pulling them away from her, he could see, in the light of the rising moon, that there was blood coating his fingers. Ace's blood. Ace! She fell away from his arms, shot. And they were coming for her--Daleks, Cybermen, the Master, Kurtz, Jaeger. And then, she was being swallowed up by the sea. He tried desperately to hold onto her. Why couldn't he hold her? Keep her? He couldn't lose her, he simply couldn't. He had reached a point in his life now where it was unthinkable, to function without her. He ran, watching her being pulled from him, dying.

Ace...

The TARDIS, ever in tune with the Doctor, sensed his already rapid pulse increasing, his mind crying out within her. She couldn't touch Ace in the same way that she could touch and soothe the Doctor, within his mind, but she could do something to alert the sleeping girl. The Doctor's fever was spiking higher, his body now shivering violently, and the TARDIS worried, flashing the lights in the bedroom in an attempt to wake Ace up.

Just as the lights flickered, the Doctor began to moan Ace's name, almost crying for her.

"Ace..."

[aces_are_rare]

Ace's sleep, light and troubled, ended abruptly with the flashing lights, moaning, and the certainty that something was wrong. She almost fell out of the chair in an effort to stand up and get the the bed. "Professor?"

He was trembling, his cheeks flaming red. When she touched his skin it almost burned; his fever was worse. Bloody hell, why had she let herself fall asleep? She should have been watching, should have seen this coming. "I'm right here, just like I said I'd be."

The cloth from earlier had fallen to the floor and she ran to the loo to wet it again, bringing back with her a bowl filled with water. She didn't remember a bowl being there before, but it was there, on the counter next to the sink, and having it at the bedside would mean leaving his side less often. She used the cloth to cool his forehead but he was so warm, it didn't seem enough. Pulling the blankets down to his waist she wiped down his chest, redipping the cloth in the water every time it began to feel warm. It seemed to help a little with the temperature but did nothing for the violent shaking.

Ace did the only thing she could think of to do. After kicking off her shoes she climbed onto the bed and stretched out behind him, wrapping her arms around him. It might have been wishful thinking but his trembling seemed to slow a little. "I'm right here," she repeated again, like a litany.

[timewill_tell]

He was closer to wakefulness now, but hardly lucid; the fever was corrupting his thoughts, distorting reality. When the Doctor's eyes opened, slowly, he noticed that the lights were slightly brighter than they had been. And there was another change...someone was holding him. Who...Ace. Ace. The dreams. Were they dreams? He couldn't remember. Everything felt real, nothing felt real. He wanted to turn, to see her, but couldn't summon the strength. Was she even there? Of course she was, those were her arms...

"Dancing...we were..."

What was the music?

"Jazz..."

And Ace was wearing...

"Sun dress..."

He could almost feel her resting against him again, swaying in time to the music. She had smelled so wonderful, like bits of Time and stars and exotic flowers. Her hair...

"Soft..."

He murmured the disconnected words, with no awareness that they would make little to no sense to someone listening to him. And then another very random memory flashed in his mind; it was as though there was no control over his thoughts now, and they were coming to the surface unrestrained.

"I misplaced it...where's my...have you try the--the berry..."

[aces_are_rare]

Ace listened to the strange collection of words, trying to figure out if they meant anything or if they were just random fragments pulled from his fevered mind. A dream, she decided, though the last muttering about a berry didn't quite fit in with the rest. Dancing, and jazz music, and... "You're picturing me in a dress?"

She needed to see if he he was awake, and how lucid. Did the berries mean anything? Was he asking for berries or berry flavoured tea or did it mean nothing at all? Rather than try to move him she scouted around him to the other side. His eyes were open, but still clouded.

"Is there something you need? Something I can get for you?" She rested the palm of her hand against his warm cheek.

[timewill_tell]

Ace was in front of him now, his mind registered. She seemed to fill his thoughts, and here she was. Had he summoned her, somehow, simply by thinking so fervently of her? No, that wasn't right, was it? She had been here all along, she'd been holding him. He frowned a bit. Why couldn't he remember anything? What was she asking him? Why would he need anything?

"You're here," he whispered, his voice almost awed, as though he hadn't seen her in a while, as though he'd missed her terribly. "Ace...they didn't...hurt you?"

He shut his eyes, drawing in a ragged, harsh breath. When he opened his eyes once more, there was a look of slight surprise on his face, as though he was seeing Ace for the first time.

"You're here," he said again, "I thought you'd...gone."

His eyes closed again; he was sleepy, still, his slumber having been interrupted. When he lifted his heavy eyelids again, however, he frowned, almost looking angry, and wrapped a weak arm around Ace.

"They...no...if you harm her..." He tried to speak as menacingly as he could manage, though he was speaking to nothing, a hallucination.

A few seconds passed and he looked at Ace, remembering the berry he'd mentioned. She'd asked him something. It was the feria berry on the planet...he couldn't remember. But it was famed throughout the universe. He'd meant to buy a plentiful supply, to have her try some, to bake muffins with the berry. Which trip was that? Their last one? The one before it?

"Feria berry," he whispered, looking at Ace. "Muffins. Ace...why can't I remember?"

[aces_are_rare]

"No one's hurt me, they haven't even tried." Not recently, at least, but she didn't add that part.

"I'm safe and whole, and we're both in the TARDIS where nothing can get to us." Nothing but the toxin ravaging through his system.

"I'm not leaving you, not ever." She placed her other hand on his cheek, framing his face, and leaned in to kiss the tip of his nose. "I'm staying here until you're better. We've a date planned, remember? Poetry and music. And Muffins, apparently. Let me be your memory for now, Professor. You just rest."

[timewill_tell]

Though her words became muddled to him quickly, filtered through the chaos of his fevered mind, they soothed him, reassuring him. She hadn't been hurt, she hadn't left, wouldn't leave. And they had a date. A date? He smiled tiredly, remembering a small part of that discussion from much earlier.

He needed to rest, and she would be there. The Doctor leaned slightly forward, pressing his forehead to hers and trying to breathe evenly. He was starting to have trouble breathing...that hadn't happened before. His breaths were raspier, uneven, but he tried to regulate his breathing. He couldn't even ponder this new development longer, his eyelids slid closed of their own volition. Ace's cool breath felt wonderful on his skin, and he was already dreaming of her again.

[aces_are_rare]

He was wrapped around her, his arm on her waist, his forehead touching hers, even one toes of one foot covering her ankle. He was the one who was sick but it felt as if he was trying to protect her. Or maybe he thought she would leave of her own volition, forgetting, or not believing, that she wanted to stay with him forever. Her forever, which wasn't long enough but it was all she had to give him.

"I'm staying right here," she whispered against his skin. Maybe if she said it often enough it would seep into his subconscious. "I'm not going anywhere."

Ace frowned when she noticed that the Professor's breathing was off. He never breathed heavily, not even when they were running, thanks to his 'superior' respiratory system (she always rolled her eyes when he used the words superior and himself in the same sentence). He was breathing had now, ragged, and she didn't like it. She moved one hand down to his chest, feeling the rattling there. Another symptom, another thing out of her control. "Breath, Professor. Just breath."

[timewill_tell]

He was too deeply asleep to hear her now, but almost unconsciously tried to respond to her voice, his lungs struggling to compensate for the disruption in his normal breathing mechanism. Unbeknownst to Ace, the TARDIS was working fervently to find another way to treat the toxin; in her databanks, all known treatments seemed to indicate that only the symptoms could be treated, until the toxin itself ran through one's system. However, the TARDIS was also fairly certain a Time Lord had never been infected with this before, and his own symptoms seemed to be more severe than all other known cases, his condition deteriorating more rapidly. Which meant...the treatment, likely, had to account for this difference. The TARDIS bemoaned the fact that she was unable to physically comfort anyone, but she did her best to convey her support for Ace by humming a bit more loudly, trying to indicate to the young woman that she was worried, too.

Despite everything, the Doctor's breathing was getting worse, fluid collecting in his lungs. There was an ominous whistle when he inhaled, a sharp wheeze when he exhaled.

[aces_are_rare]

In bare minutes his breathing had worsened, from dry rasping to wet and noisy. He was fighting for each breath and Ace couldn't just lay there and do nothing. Frantically she tried to think of something she could do, any way to help. With one hand she worked all the pillows on the bed into a pile; sitting up, she hoped, might ease his breathing.

Getting the pillows ready was easy; getting the Professor sitting was much harder. Limp with sleep and not able to help her at all she had to struggle to move him up the bed, to get him into a sitting position. For someone so close to her own size he weighed more then he should seem to. She got him up once but he just slid down again, falling sideways in a way that only mode his breathing worse. A second time and she tried using her own weight to keep him propt up but he only fell to the other side.

"Third time's the charm," she muttered to herself. She sat against the headboard of the bed, her legs spread wide, and pulled him flat against her. Her arms wrapped around his chest, his head tiled a little to fit in the space between her shoulder and neck. She felt like she was in the middle of a fireplace, with that much of his fevered skin touching her, but it was worth it if it helped him breath any easier. "If you stop breathing I'll kill you."

[timewill_tell]

Luckily, the Doctor's loo was relatively close to his bed; the TARDIS, feeling she had to do something to help, turned the showers on as hot as they could go, helping to create a steam that drifted into the Doctor's bedroom. She hoped it would help him, and by turns, help Ace, who was doing everything she could to help the Doctor. Sitting up seemed to have a positive effect on his breathing as well. Though there was still a rattle in his lungs that wouldn't abate any time soon, he wasn't on the verge of losing air altogether, like he had been such a short time ago. His breaths were still slightly uneven, but he wasn't breathing as violently, wasn't choking.

He seemed to relax in her arms, growing limper, sleeping more easily, as though he knew Ace was taking care of him. It was a position he would have been reluctant to let himself be in, were he conscious; he insisted on taking care of himself, though he often forgot that he was too oblivious to look after himself, which was likely somewhat amusing to those around him. If the Doctor could let himself be still, let himself be taken care of, and let anyone see him vulnerable, it was with Ace. He trusted her above all. His dreams were not as tumultuous as they had been earlier; they were sitting beneath a tree, by a lake, holding each other.

The Doctor slept on, at peace for now in his Ace's arms, and the TARDIS continued trying to find a solution, some way to communicate with Ace; she hoped that together, they could save the Doctor, who was only getting worse.

[aces_are_rare]

They sat like that for hours. Ace didn't dare fall asleep, afraid that her hold on the Professor would loosen and he would fall, afraid that his breathing would worsen again. She felt each breath rattling where his back rested against his chest, knew that his lungs were not full of air as they should be. The steam from the loo seemed to be helping the Professor but it was making her own skin warm and sticky and she leaned back a little to make her own breathing easier. The back of her head touched the TARDIS wall and she could feel the humming there, louder and more obvious then she'd ever experienced it before.

"You're feeling as helpless as I am, aren't you?" she asked softly. She thought of the bowl that had appeared earlier, the shower steam, the opening doors. The lights in the room flickered slightly, and Ace knew it was the ship's way of responding. "Between the two of us we'll get him through this."

She closed her eyes, still not letting herself sleep but feeling, after an hour, a little more rested. She wondered if the TARDIS had anything to do with it. When the Professor began to stir she dared to leave him alone for a few minutes, racing the the kitchen for tea, well laced with honey. She needed to keep him hydrated. She was relieved to find he was still sitting up when she returned.

"I've brought that tea I promised earlier."

[timewill_tell]

The hours he'd spent resting had rejuvenated him somewhat, so that when he opened his eyes this time, they were only clouded with fever, not lethargy. He couldn't quite be certain why, either, but while he'd slept, he'd felt...comfort. Not bothering to move from his position, he reached for the mug. He didn't protest when Ace helped guide it to his mouth, and took a few healthy sips of the warm liquid. It had a cathartic effect on him, even in small doses, which was something he'd always appreciated about tea.

Suddenly, he remembered fleeting glimpses. Ace had been holding him again, trying to help him breathe better.

He couldn't remember this now, but last week, when they'd kissed, he hadn't actually said he loved her. He had showed it, been receptive to her declaration, but hadn't reciprocated. Perhaps that was why the admittance came so easily to him now, because the fever gave him liberties he wouldn't previously have had.

"Wonderful...beautiful," his shaky hand reached out to cover Ace's. He couldn't say as much, didn't have the strength to, but what he meant when he said beautiful was that she wasn't only physically appealing, but her very soul was the essence of goodness and meaning. He hoped, despite the fogginess of his eyes, that the sincerity and truth behind his words shone through. "My Ace...I love you..."

He smiled softly, leaning wearily against the pillows again. He had said it, and could be content, knowing this might be the first and last time he'd be able to say the words. His hand stayed on hers, not wanting to forget the feel of her skin.

[aces_are_rare]

Hearing the words, knowing he meant them, set her heart to racing. Although he had shown her how he felt a million times, and she'd understood, this past week, how he felt, it was still a thrill to hear the words spoken. They didn't come any easier for him then they did for her, and for that reason they meant even more to her. There was something, though, a tone in his voice that sounded a little too much like goodbye. She refused to listen to that part, to let it matter.

"I love you too; always and forever." It was the same promise she had given him last week, when he had asked if he could keep her 'for a good long while.' She fully planned to hold him to his words. They had a million places to see still, adventures to have, arguments and jokes and conversations to share.

Ace leaned forward and pressed her lips to the back of his hands where they rested above hers. Touch, always so important to them, was often an easier way to communicate then words and she needed to be sure he knew how she felt.

"Now do you think you can take a bit more tea? We can't have you getting dehydrated."