Fall Inside (x-over: Ten/Campbell Bain, PG-13)
Title: Fall Inside
Author: von_gelmini
Fandom: Doctor Who/Takin’ Over the Asylum
Characters: Ten/Campbell Bain
Rating: PG-13
WordCount: 2117
Warnings: none
Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who or Takin’ Over the Asylum. I am not writing this for profit.
Fall Inside
Things hadn’t worked out as planned for Campbell Bain. He’d been released from St. Jude’s and had his dream job working as a DJ. It seemed like he would lead a charmed life. But that was before his world fell apart.
It was his own fault. It happened to most bi-polar people sooner or later. And if they didn’t have much of a support system around them, well, they could fall through the cracks. And there weren’t exactly many people in his life anymore who knew him. His parents had nothing to do with him once he became self-supporting, and that suited him fine. He’d drifted away from the people at St. Jude’s, as well. So he would work and hang out with his co-workers, but in the end, he went back to his tiny flat alone.
During a particularly bad manic cycle, Campbell went off his meds. When you’re manic, you think you can do anything. You don’t think it, you know it. And you also know that you’re not sick, even though you still are. A few outrageous stunts on air and despite his popularity, the station had to let him go. He told himself he was glad to see the back of them. They were keeping him from really making his mark, stuck up there in the tiny station. London was where he needed to be. He took his last paycheck and headed south, ready to take BBC Radio by storm.
No place to stay, not knowing anyone, and his only reference being of dubious quality, of course things didn’t work out. He saw that now that his mood had swung to the opposite pole. He spent his days, regardless of the weather, sitting in the park, trying to catch some rest. He didn’t dare sleep at night. Not after the first one. Too many things happened at night. Things he needed to be awake to avoid, to run from. He thought of killing himself often these days. What was he still doing alive? He was a failure. He couldn’t very well go back home even if he had the money to get there. He wouldn’t go back to St. Jude’s and he wouldn’t go back to a family that didn’t want him. Things would turn around, he tried to tell himself. But winter was quickly coming on and he still had no place to be.
He spent a couple of nights in a shelter. What little he had was robbed from him the first night. The second night was worse. He wouldn’t think about that. Not even in this foul mood. If he did, then he might just throw himself into the Thames after all. The bruises on his body had long since faded, but the bruises on his soul would take much longer to heal, if they ever did at all.
So he slept in the park, in the cold, staying as public as he dared and still avoid arrest. He wouldn’t let himself ever get trapped again. He learned to hate closed spaces. They were too dangerous. They left him nowhere to run. But it started to snow. According to the newspaper he was trying to fashion a blanket of, this was going to be one of the coldest winters on record. They were opening up warming shelters, the article said, and gave the addresses. But Campbell would rather freeze to death than risk a shelter again. He found places to warm himself for a few minutes here and there. A heating vent in the sidewalk, a public loo (though that was too closed up, so he stayed out of there as much as he could), a barrel fire in an abandoned scrap yard near the river; there were places to go. Dangerous, but it was cold so he risked it.
He fell asleep one day in a pedestrian underpass, lying on the cold concrete sidewalk. He woke to someone shaking him. He couldn’t quite manage to figure out what was happening, except he knew he was hot. Burning up, actually. He shrugged the good Samaritan’s hand from his shoulder and headed back to the park. He shirked his tattered parka, leaving it on a bench. It was too hot to wear it. His hair was drenched in sweat. He peeled off his hoodie and tied it around his waist.
He found his way to one of his usual spots to spend the day, but something was different. There was a big blue box, big enough for a person or two to fit inside, sitting next to the bench. It said “Police” on it, and Campbell thought it would probably be a good idea to get as far away from it as possible. He just didn’t have the energy to move. He shook his head to try to clear the cobwebs, but instead the world just started to spin. He pulled himself up on the arm of the bench and stood, but he got no farther than a step or two before he fell against the blue police box and passed out.
The Doctor checked the landing readings on the TARDIS’ screen. Not exactly where he was heading, but close enough. Time for a little pop around London and see how things were going in his favorite city. That was bound to take his mind off of things. He heard a thud against the TARDIS doors. Sometimes people would think it was actually an old police box and try to open it or use the phone. He switched the screen to an external view. He didn’t see anyone standing there. He shifted the angle of the image around, making sure it would be safe for him to exit, that he wouldn’t run into a curious by-stander as he left. Down on the ground at the foot of the door was a crumpled young man with long brown hair. The lad was wearing nothing but jeans and a t-shirt, and according to the environmental read-out it was five degrees out there.
He went to the door and opened it, and the unconscious boy fell into the TARDIS. The Doctor reached under his arms and dragged him inside, kicking the door shut after. He scooped him up in his arms. He weighed practically nothing. His arms full, the Doctor gave the young man a quick kiss on the forehead. To the Gallifreyan’s naturally cool lips, it felt like he’d kissed a hot coal. The boy was burning up with fever that was rapidly approaching dangerous levels. If he didn’t get the fever down quickly, his brain would fry. He thought about taking him to the local A and E, but there would be too many questions, and he didn’t think this young man would be able to answer them. He looked like he’d been living rough for a long time.
First thing would be to get that fever down. The Doctor took him to his room and put him in the bath tub. He ran the water as cold as he could get it and started to undress him. Underneath the rags of his clothes and the dirt from living outdoors, he was quite handsome. Thin as a rail, all angles and bones, but nicely put together all the same. Without quite meaning to, the Doctor stole a look at his crotch. He could tell it was an impressive endowment, even as it was lying softly on his thigh. Stop it, he told himself. No time for that nonsense.
Making sure he was propped up and wouldn’t fall under the water, the Doctor headed to the kitchen for some ice. On his way back, he stopped at medical and picked up a few things - an antibiotic injection, something to bring the fever down and a few other things he might need. Back in his bathroom, the Doctor cracked the trays of ice into the tub. The lad’s arm was too bony to give him the injections there, so he half-rolled him to his side and jabbed his buttocks.
“Come on, now,” the Doctor said, brushing the long shock of hair out of his face. He wet a cloth with the bath’s ice water and wiped his face. He wrapped several cubes of ice in the cloth and laid it on his neck, hoping to cool him faster. With another cloth he started to rub at some of the dirt. It didn’t matter that the boy was filthy, not in his state, but there was nothing else the Doctor could do until the medicine and the ice bath began to work.
“It’s cold,” the boy said, shaking and coming to.
The Doctor lifted him out of the tub and wrapped him in a huge soft towel. “It’s okay. You’re okay now.” He carried the boy to his bed and piled covers on top of him.
“Where am I?”
“Ah, yes, well...” What to tell him? He didn’t want to lie, but he didn’t want to panic him either. “You’re in my home,” was the answer he settled on. “I didn’t think you’d want to go to the hospital.” He smiled at the young man. “I’m the Doctor.”
“You’re a doctor?”
“Not ‘a’, ‘the.’ Definite article. The Doctor. And you are?”
“Campbell.”
“Well, Campbell, I thought I’d lost you there for a bit. You had quite a fever.” The Doctor touched a thermometer to Campbell’s temple. “Still do, but it’s coming down.”
“Killed a few brain cells, huh?” the boy said, smiling wanly. “Good thing I’ve got some to spare.”
The Doctor reached over to the kit of things he’d brought from medical. “Take these,” he said, handing the boy two pills. “They’ll help you rest. You need to sleep.”
The fear came back, pouring over Campbell. He was in unfamiliar surroundings, naked, with a strange man offering him drugs that did who knows what. “Where are my clothes?”
“Wet, I’m afraid. I just sort of dumped you into the tub. Lay down. I’ll go get you some pyjamas, if you’d like.”
“I’m feeling better. I’d like to leave.” He wrapped the duvet around him and tried to stand up. His legs buckled underneath him and he fell back onto the bed. “You can’t keep me here,” he said, shakily.
“I’m not going to hurt you, Campbell,” the Doctor said softly. “I want to help you.”
Campbell looked at him skeptically. “Why?”
“Because you need it. Because you fell against my door.”
He didn’t remember falling against someone’s door. Last thing he remembered he was in the park.
“Campbell, I promise you, you’re safe here,” the Doctor said. “You can stay until you’re well enough to leave or longer if you’d like, but I won’t hold you here against your will. If you want me to, I can still take you to the hospital.”
He shook his head, his eyes wide. “No!” If he went to the hospital, no telling what would happen. He could wind up back at St. Jude’s or someplace worse here in London. He’d heard horror stories from other homeless people about the psych wards here. “No hospitals, please,” he said, trying to make himself sound calmer.
“All right then. I have everything here to take care of you, and I promise you have nothing to fear from me.” Something terrible had obviously happened to this young man to make him so afraid. Someone as young and handsome as Campbell, out living rough, it didn’t take much to imagine what. “I’ll have a room made up for you tomorrow, but now, you can sleep in my bed,” Campbell bit his lip. “And I’ll sleep here on the sofa, to make sure your fever doesn’t come back during the night, okay?”
“Okay,” Campbell agreed.
“So take these. They’ll keep you asleep all night so that your body can heal.” He wanted to reach out and soothe the wounded young man, but touching was the last thing he needed. “I give you my word.”
Reluctantly Campbell took the two pills and swallowed them with an offered glass of water. “Thank you,” he said, and settled back onto the pillows.
“It’s nothing,” the Doctor said. “I’m glad I found you on my doorstep.” He took a spare blanket from a dresser and dimmed the lights. “I’ll check on you every couple of hours, so if you feel me touching your wrist or taking your temperature, that’s all it is. Now try to get some rest.”
Campbell was still afraid, but there was something reassuring about the Doctor. He was told he would be safe, and as he laid in the soft, warm bed, he began to feel that he actually was.
Author: von_gelmini
Fandom: Doctor Who/Takin’ Over the Asylum
Characters: Ten/Campbell Bain
Rating: PG-13
WordCount: 2117
Warnings: none
Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who or Takin’ Over the Asylum. I am not writing this for profit.
Fall Inside
Things hadn’t worked out as planned for Campbell Bain. He’d been released from St. Jude’s and had his dream job working as a DJ. It seemed like he would lead a charmed life. But that was before his world fell apart.
It was his own fault. It happened to most bi-polar people sooner or later. And if they didn’t have much of a support system around them, well, they could fall through the cracks. And there weren’t exactly many people in his life anymore who knew him. His parents had nothing to do with him once he became self-supporting, and that suited him fine. He’d drifted away from the people at St. Jude’s, as well. So he would work and hang out with his co-workers, but in the end, he went back to his tiny flat alone.
During a particularly bad manic cycle, Campbell went off his meds. When you’re manic, you think you can do anything. You don’t think it, you know it. And you also know that you’re not sick, even though you still are. A few outrageous stunts on air and despite his popularity, the station had to let him go. He told himself he was glad to see the back of them. They were keeping him from really making his mark, stuck up there in the tiny station. London was where he needed to be. He took his last paycheck and headed south, ready to take BBC Radio by storm.
No place to stay, not knowing anyone, and his only reference being of dubious quality, of course things didn’t work out. He saw that now that his mood had swung to the opposite pole. He spent his days, regardless of the weather, sitting in the park, trying to catch some rest. He didn’t dare sleep at night. Not after the first one. Too many things happened at night. Things he needed to be awake to avoid, to run from. He thought of killing himself often these days. What was he still doing alive? He was a failure. He couldn’t very well go back home even if he had the money to get there. He wouldn’t go back to St. Jude’s and he wouldn’t go back to a family that didn’t want him. Things would turn around, he tried to tell himself. But winter was quickly coming on and he still had no place to be.
He spent a couple of nights in a shelter. What little he had was robbed from him the first night. The second night was worse. He wouldn’t think about that. Not even in this foul mood. If he did, then he might just throw himself into the Thames after all. The bruises on his body had long since faded, but the bruises on his soul would take much longer to heal, if they ever did at all.
So he slept in the park, in the cold, staying as public as he dared and still avoid arrest. He wouldn’t let himself ever get trapped again. He learned to hate closed spaces. They were too dangerous. They left him nowhere to run. But it started to snow. According to the newspaper he was trying to fashion a blanket of, this was going to be one of the coldest winters on record. They were opening up warming shelters, the article said, and gave the addresses. But Campbell would rather freeze to death than risk a shelter again. He found places to warm himself for a few minutes here and there. A heating vent in the sidewalk, a public loo (though that was too closed up, so he stayed out of there as much as he could), a barrel fire in an abandoned scrap yard near the river; there were places to go. Dangerous, but it was cold so he risked it.
He fell asleep one day in a pedestrian underpass, lying on the cold concrete sidewalk. He woke to someone shaking him. He couldn’t quite manage to figure out what was happening, except he knew he was hot. Burning up, actually. He shrugged the good Samaritan’s hand from his shoulder and headed back to the park. He shirked his tattered parka, leaving it on a bench. It was too hot to wear it. His hair was drenched in sweat. He peeled off his hoodie and tied it around his waist.
He found his way to one of his usual spots to spend the day, but something was different. There was a big blue box, big enough for a person or two to fit inside, sitting next to the bench. It said “Police” on it, and Campbell thought it would probably be a good idea to get as far away from it as possible. He just didn’t have the energy to move. He shook his head to try to clear the cobwebs, but instead the world just started to spin. He pulled himself up on the arm of the bench and stood, but he got no farther than a step or two before he fell against the blue police box and passed out.
The Doctor checked the landing readings on the TARDIS’ screen. Not exactly where he was heading, but close enough. Time for a little pop around London and see how things were going in his favorite city. That was bound to take his mind off of things. He heard a thud against the TARDIS doors. Sometimes people would think it was actually an old police box and try to open it or use the phone. He switched the screen to an external view. He didn’t see anyone standing there. He shifted the angle of the image around, making sure it would be safe for him to exit, that he wouldn’t run into a curious by-stander as he left. Down on the ground at the foot of the door was a crumpled young man with long brown hair. The lad was wearing nothing but jeans and a t-shirt, and according to the environmental read-out it was five degrees out there.
He went to the door and opened it, and the unconscious boy fell into the TARDIS. The Doctor reached under his arms and dragged him inside, kicking the door shut after. He scooped him up in his arms. He weighed practically nothing. His arms full, the Doctor gave the young man a quick kiss on the forehead. To the Gallifreyan’s naturally cool lips, it felt like he’d kissed a hot coal. The boy was burning up with fever that was rapidly approaching dangerous levels. If he didn’t get the fever down quickly, his brain would fry. He thought about taking him to the local A and E, but there would be too many questions, and he didn’t think this young man would be able to answer them. He looked like he’d been living rough for a long time.
First thing would be to get that fever down. The Doctor took him to his room and put him in the bath tub. He ran the water as cold as he could get it and started to undress him. Underneath the rags of his clothes and the dirt from living outdoors, he was quite handsome. Thin as a rail, all angles and bones, but nicely put together all the same. Without quite meaning to, the Doctor stole a look at his crotch. He could tell it was an impressive endowment, even as it was lying softly on his thigh. Stop it, he told himself. No time for that nonsense.
Making sure he was propped up and wouldn’t fall under the water, the Doctor headed to the kitchen for some ice. On his way back, he stopped at medical and picked up a few things - an antibiotic injection, something to bring the fever down and a few other things he might need. Back in his bathroom, the Doctor cracked the trays of ice into the tub. The lad’s arm was too bony to give him the injections there, so he half-rolled him to his side and jabbed his buttocks.
“Come on, now,” the Doctor said, brushing the long shock of hair out of his face. He wet a cloth with the bath’s ice water and wiped his face. He wrapped several cubes of ice in the cloth and laid it on his neck, hoping to cool him faster. With another cloth he started to rub at some of the dirt. It didn’t matter that the boy was filthy, not in his state, but there was nothing else the Doctor could do until the medicine and the ice bath began to work.
“It’s cold,” the boy said, shaking and coming to.
The Doctor lifted him out of the tub and wrapped him in a huge soft towel. “It’s okay. You’re okay now.” He carried the boy to his bed and piled covers on top of him.
“Where am I?”
“Ah, yes, well...” What to tell him? He didn’t want to lie, but he didn’t want to panic him either. “You’re in my home,” was the answer he settled on. “I didn’t think you’d want to go to the hospital.” He smiled at the young man. “I’m the Doctor.”
“You’re a doctor?”
“Not ‘a’, ‘the.’ Definite article. The Doctor. And you are?”
“Campbell.”
“Well, Campbell, I thought I’d lost you there for a bit. You had quite a fever.” The Doctor touched a thermometer to Campbell’s temple. “Still do, but it’s coming down.”
“Killed a few brain cells, huh?” the boy said, smiling wanly. “Good thing I’ve got some to spare.”
The Doctor reached over to the kit of things he’d brought from medical. “Take these,” he said, handing the boy two pills. “They’ll help you rest. You need to sleep.”
The fear came back, pouring over Campbell. He was in unfamiliar surroundings, naked, with a strange man offering him drugs that did who knows what. “Where are my clothes?”
“Wet, I’m afraid. I just sort of dumped you into the tub. Lay down. I’ll go get you some pyjamas, if you’d like.”
“I’m feeling better. I’d like to leave.” He wrapped the duvet around him and tried to stand up. His legs buckled underneath him and he fell back onto the bed. “You can’t keep me here,” he said, shakily.
“I’m not going to hurt you, Campbell,” the Doctor said softly. “I want to help you.”
Campbell looked at him skeptically. “Why?”
“Because you need it. Because you fell against my door.”
He didn’t remember falling against someone’s door. Last thing he remembered he was in the park.
“Campbell, I promise you, you’re safe here,” the Doctor said. “You can stay until you’re well enough to leave or longer if you’d like, but I won’t hold you here against your will. If you want me to, I can still take you to the hospital.”
He shook his head, his eyes wide. “No!” If he went to the hospital, no telling what would happen. He could wind up back at St. Jude’s or someplace worse here in London. He’d heard horror stories from other homeless people about the psych wards here. “No hospitals, please,” he said, trying to make himself sound calmer.
“All right then. I have everything here to take care of you, and I promise you have nothing to fear from me.” Something terrible had obviously happened to this young man to make him so afraid. Someone as young and handsome as Campbell, out living rough, it didn’t take much to imagine what. “I’ll have a room made up for you tomorrow, but now, you can sleep in my bed,” Campbell bit his lip. “And I’ll sleep here on the sofa, to make sure your fever doesn’t come back during the night, okay?”
“Okay,” Campbell agreed.
“So take these. They’ll keep you asleep all night so that your body can heal.” He wanted to reach out and soothe the wounded young man, but touching was the last thing he needed. “I give you my word.”
Reluctantly Campbell took the two pills and swallowed them with an offered glass of water. “Thank you,” he said, and settled back onto the pillows.
“It’s nothing,” the Doctor said. “I’m glad I found you on my doorstep.” He took a spare blanket from a dresser and dimmed the lights. “I’ll check on you every couple of hours, so if you feel me touching your wrist or taking your temperature, that’s all it is. Now try to get some rest.”
Campbell was still afraid, but there was something reassuring about the Doctor. He was told he would be safe, and as he laid in the soft, warm bed, he began to feel that he actually was.