#one day things will stop being about thasmin...that day is not today

[dreadfuldevotee]

jsyk i will be atributing 14's new found physical and emotional tenderness to the doctors sadness over fumbling yaz so fucking hard

[regenderate-fic]

And Still I Will Live Here: Chapter 6

Fandom: Doctor Who Rating: Teen Ship: Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler, Metacrisis Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler Characters: Tenth Doctor, Rose Tyler, Jackie Tyler, Pete Tyler, Tony Tyler Series: And We’re Not Out of the Tunnel Word Count (Chapter): 4,049 Other Tags: Pete’s World, Pete’s World Torchwood, Angst, Chronic Illness, Disability, Disabled Character Read on AO3 / Read in order

Summary: Rose has been tired for a couple years now. She thinks it’s from working so hard on the dimension cannon without a break, but then she gets a break and she doesn’t quite recover. Finally, she starts going to doctors, but they’re no help. At least John (the metacrisis Doctor) is with her every step of the way.

NOTES: posting a day early because like. why not. happy end of this fic. or. it's not happy actually but like. it is done

i AM working on a sequel to this, it will be thirteen/yaz/rose, yes i AM on a crusade to make everyone ship thirteen/yaz/rose. i love them. it will of course be very slow burn because all three of them have a lotttttt of emotional baggage to contend with. it will also involve all of them being in covid quarantine together. i have a wip tag for it here although the only thing in it right now is from before it was a sequel to this fic (i've been working on it since before flux but uh. it has changed a lot since then)

and i'm working on a twelverose thing with mia from the empire of the wolf comics, thanks to my friends, which has some similar vibes to this series but not really, and also i have a thasmin idea i thought of today and also i have one for the style swap exchange in the dw creators server! so. lots going on. stay tuned.

The warm just-married haze lasts throughout the next day, and the day after that. They’re not going on a honeymoon, mostly because Rose doesn’t really travel well these days, but they’ve taken some precious time off work, and they’re able to stay in, lazing around in bed, ordering takeout, enjoying each other’s company. They’re never more than a few feet away from each other. Rose tries to focus solely mostly succeeds at pushing all her sadness out of her mind: there’s no use spending what little time they have left moping.

Besides, being married to John is brilliant. Rose can’t stop looking at the rings on her left hand, shining silver and diamond, tangible proof of their commitment. Sometimes John will catch her looking and cover her hand with his, interlocking their rings, and Rose will smile up at him, her heart so full of a painful kind of joy.

When they return to Torchwood, it’s to clapping and catcalling from their coworkers, many of whom attended the wedding. Rose laughs as she enters their workshop, John at her side, and a cheer bursts out.

The laughter doesn’t last, of course. The work they’re doing is maybe the furthest thing from funny. And they’re getting closer— they’ve located a tiny, tiny hole between the two universes, and now they’re just trying to widen it enough to let Rose through.

“You’re going to have to travel,” Sasha tells Rose. “The gap won’t come through just anywhere.”

“Don’t tell me,” Rose says. “Norway?”

Sasha nods.

“Hoped I’d never wind up there again,” Rose murmurs.

It’s only a few days later that the cannon roars to life. There’s a pit in Rose’s stomach as she sees the lights blink on: right now, the cannon is essentially a glorified GPS, showing them which direction to go to get to the place where the walls between universes are weak, but it still signals the end.

“I thought we’d have more time,” she tells John that night, as they look into travel plans. “I didn’t think we’d get it working so soon.”

John’s been searching up hotels, but now his hand freezes on the mouse. He turns to Rose.

“Technically,” he says, “you can decide when to go.” He brushes a hand through her hair. “Goodness knows I want—” He shakes his head. “But time is working against you here. We don’t want—” He cuts off, but Rose knows what he was about to say. We don’t want to be too late.

In the end, they call Jackie. They coordinate with her to schedule a week’s vacation in Norway. The whole family is going— Jackie, Pete, Tony, and Gabe. They’ll drive down together, and if all goes well, they’ll be one less on the way home.

They have a goodbye party for Rose at work. It’s a surprise— she just goes in to tie up loose ends, show John how to find everything on her computer, pick up the dimension cannon, and maybe say a quick goodbye to everyone who’s helped her. But she enters the workshop to see it strewn with streamers, with bowls of chips and cans of soda along one table and a grocery store sheet cake that reads, “Goodbye, Rose!” in purple icing. Rose cries to see it, and many of her coworkers are teary-eyed too. It hits her again how hard they’ve worked to help her, and she makes sure to thank each and every one of them. She’s worked at Torchwood for four years now— most of her adult life. It’s hard to leave.

But leave she does. They all take a group picture, printed on a Polaroid, and Rose keeps it: she’ll be bringing lots of pictures with her to Bad Wolf Bay, keepsakes of her time in this universe. She’s taken all the cards and money out of her wallet and replaced them with notes from John and little pictures of each member of her family: John, Jackie, Pete, Tony, Gabriel. She doesn’t want to forget them. She’s using an album small enough to fit into the pocket of her favorite leather jacket for the other pictures, a little book filled with plastic sleeves into which she fits one picture per page.

She writes some letters to John, too, one for his birthday, one for hers. One for Christmas. One for their first anniversary, and their fifth, and their tenth— she doesn’t want him to run out of letters too soon. One for when he’s having a rough day, and one for when he’s really missing her. She writes letters to Tony, too, and Gabe, even though Gabe won’t remember her. They each get one for their tenth birthday, and their sixteenth, and their graduations, and their weddings. She lets them know how much she loves them, how proud she is of them, even not knowing what they’ve accomplished. And then she writes a few to her mum and dad, too. She gives all these letters to John, who promises they’ll get into the right hands, and then she’s as ready as can be.

They leave for Bad Wolf Bay the next week. Pete drives them in a company van, which is somewhat comical, especially given that the van sits fourteen and there are only six of them. Rose’s wheelchair takes up space, though, as do the carseats for Gabe and Tony, and everyone’s luggage for the full week, so maybe it’s worth it.

The drive takes two days. By the end of the first day, Rose feels like the ground is moving underneath her as they check in to the hotel: by the end of the second day, she’s just exhausted. They check in to their hotel in Norway, and Rose goes right to bed.

They spend the next week together, mostly on the beach. Baby Gabe has never seen the ocean before, and Rose laughs from her place under an umbrella as she watches him jerk his feet away from the waves when Jackie tries to dip his toes in. Tony is a handful as always, badgering everyone to go swimming with him— the ocean is too cold for Rose, even if she were strong enough to swim, but John and Pete take turns going into the waves, and Rose kneels on the sand and helps Tony dig until he hits water.

As the week comes to an end, Rose finds herself feeling deeply sad. She’s bursting into tears at the drop of a hat, at least once an hour, and her family does her the grace of ignoring it, letting her have her feelings without making them into a big deal every time.

The most heartbreaking moment is when Tony toddles up to her and asks, “Why are you sad?” He knows Rose is sick, and that she has to go away, but Rose isn’t sure whether he understands she’s not coming back.

She tries to smile at him as she says, “I’m just going to miss you.”

“You mean when you’re gone?” Tony asks. “Mummy says you’re going all the way to another universe.”

Rose nods. “I won’t be able to see you or Mum or Dad or John when I go,” she says, choking on the words. “That’s why I’m sad.”

“I understand.” Tony says it so solemnly Rose almost laughs. “I get sad when I have to go home from nursery sometimes.”

“Exactly,” Rose says. “It’s just like that, but bigger, because I won’t get to come back tomorrow.”

“When will you be back?” Tony asks.

Rose swallows, trying her hardest not to start sobbing. “I can’t come back, Tony.”

“I won’t see you again?”

She shakes her head. “But remember that I love you,” she says. “No matter what.”

Tony’s little face is screwed up in confusion.

“Come here,” Rose says, reaching out for him. He climbs up onto her lap, and she hugs him tight, dropping a kiss to his tiny head. She takes out her wallet and pulls out the picture of him she’s keeping in there. “See? I’m going to keep this picture with me, wherever I go. So I’ll never forget you.”

“I’ll never forget you either,” Tony says, and Rose feels a tear drop from her eye. Maybe he won’t forget her— but he’s the same age she was when her dad died, and she barely remembered him, until she saw him again.

“Don’t feel bad,” she says. “If you do start to forget me. Okay? Your brain is learning so much right now. There’s a lot you won’t be able to keep.” She’ll never forget Tony, after all, but she’ll never have an image of him past what he’s like right now: she’ll never know how he grows up.

“I have to remember you.” Tony’s voice is resolute. “I have to tell Gabe about you when he grows up.”

Rose laughs a tear-filled laugh. “All right, then.” She bounces Tony on her leg. “You’ll remember me, and you’ll tell Gabe everything.”

Their last full day is the worst of all. They spend it on the beach again. John refuses to leave Rose’s side. He spends the whole day next to her, his arms around her, his lips brushing against her shoulder, her hair, her cheek. They have a big dinner, the whole family, and still John won’t let go of Rose’s hand, just like at their wedding. Everyone’s on the brink of tears, it seems, just barely holding it back for the sake of their last night together— except Gabe, who stares at everything with his wide eyes, so focused on absorbing a brand new world that he has no idea of the tragedy that’s unfolding.

Jackie puts Gabe and Tony to bed, and then she and Pete and John and Rose stay up late, sitting in the hotel lobby, Rose curled up on the sofa with her head on John’s shoulder, John’s arms tight around her. There’s so much that she wants to say to all three of them, but there’s just not enough time for her to even put words to it all— she loves them all, so much, and she’s so grateful for their support, and she already misses them like a hole in her chest that will never be filled. But she can’t say all that, so instead they reminisce about the times they’ve had together— the wedding, holidays, trips out with Tony, inside jokes from Torchwood, from Rose’s childhood. These are the only people who have this knowledge of her, Rose realizes— she will never again be able to sit down and remember these experiences with people who were there.

And then Jackie starts nodding off, and Rose realizes with a start that it’s two in the morning. They all go back up to their rooms together, crowded together in the elevator, and when Jackie hugs Rose good night, it takes her a long time to let go.

Rose takes her time changing into her pajamas, as if moving more slowly will make the next day come later. But she can’t fight it off forever. She sits on the bed, watching John change into his pajamas for the last time, and then he comes to sit next to her, his arm winding around her waist. She doesn’t even think about it: she just kisses him desperately, needing him to know how much she doesn’t want to leave him behind. And he knows— she knows he knows— just like she would know he doesn’t want her to go even if he didn’t kiss her back with just as much desperation. And she’s tired— she’s so tired, she’s about to fall asleep at any second— but she can’t miss even a moment with John.

She doesn’t remember falling asleep, but she must have, because she wakes up to light streaming into their room, John’s arm tight around her waist, a horrible knot in her stomach. She closes her eyes again, hoping she can pretend she’s still asleep— the longer she’s asleep, the longer it is until they have to go to Bad Wolf Bay and say goodbye. She has a sneaking suspicion John is doing the same thing: his breathing isn’t quite as slow as it usually is when he’s sleeping, and he keeps shifting ever so slightly.

When Rose moves, it feels involuntary, like fate is pushing her along. All she does is pulls John’s arm so he’s holding her closer around his waist, but that’s all it takes for him to realize she’s awake. She feels him press a long kiss to her hair, and a tear slips out from her closed eyes, dripping down her face and onto her pillow. She rolls over, burying her face in his chest, trying to memorize his smell. He holds her even tighter, pressing her body impossibly close, and for a long time, neither one of them says anything.

Until there’s a timid knock on the door. John goes and opens it, and Rose hears her mum’s voice from the hall— “We’ve got to get going.” Rose turns her face towards her pillow, using it to wipe her tears. John comes back, sits next to her on the bed, kisses her hand and her hair and her forehead and her lips, brushes his thumb over her cheek.

“I love you,” he whispers, and Rose can hear a grave sincerity in every word.

“I love you,” she breathes. She does. And the thing that’s so unfair about it all is that she’s come to love him, separate from the Doctor— she loves John, the human, the man who’s made the hardest time in her life into something joyful. She loves him for the way he sits at the edge of a chair when he thinks, tapping his fingers together; she loves him for his single-minded focus on any kind of puzzle, no matter whether it’s a sudoku in the Sunday paper or the long-term issue of her own health; she loves him for the way he stretches when he wakes up in the mornings, his hair all disheveled, his mouth open in a yawn; she even loves him for the way he complains about the other drivers on the road when he’s behind the wheel.

And now she has to leave him behind.

It feels like unimaginable cruelty, really. How could she leave him like this, all alone in this universe, without her? How could he encourage her to leave him like this? How is it that she’s supposed to go and stand on a beach and press a button that will take her away from the man she’s built a life with?

She kisses him, soft and slow and sweet.

“We should get dressed,” she says, robotic. It’s fate again, pushing them forward.

John nods. He pulls away from Rose, rummaging in his suitcase to get his clothes. Rose does the same, moving to the end of the bed where her suitcase is propped up at waist height, giving her access without having to walk. She pulls out the clothes she brought to wear to the other universe— black trousers, a light blue T-shirt. Her favorite brown leather jacket. She puts them on, wishing she had any other choice.

They drive to the bay in silence. No one wants to talk about what’s about to happen. Rose sits in the middle seat so she can stay next to John, her head resting on his shoulder. The dimension cannon is heavy in one pocket, her wallet and photo album heavy in the other. With every passing mile, Rose wishes the van would turn back and drive them all the way to London, but Pete drives resolutely on.

They all get out at the bay. This area is deserted, just like the last two times Rose has come here: it’s clearly no one’s favorite swimming hole. The mere sight of it makes her blood run cold with memory. She’s just adding another negative association to the pile, really, by coming here again.

She takes out the dimension cannon: it’s flashing and beeping, signaling that they’re near the weak spot. She’s going to have to find the precise location, but right now she just leans on John as they walk out onto the beach, the rest of her family following behind. Rose turns to face them: her mum. Her dad. Her little brothers. Now she’s here, she doesn’t know what to say. Tears spring to her face, and she makes no effort to stop them. Her mum is crying too, and Tony. Even Pete’s eyes look a little wet.

“Thank you,” she says to all of them. “For getting me here.” She steps forward and hugs her dad. “You’ve been amazing,” she tells him. “I’m so glad I got to know you.”

“I’m glad I got to know you, too,” he says. “You’re a remarkable woman.”

Rose tries to smile, but she can’t quite manage. She bends down to hug Tony, who flings his arms around her neck and holds on for dear life.

“I don’t want you to go!” he sobs into her shoulder.

“I know,” Rose whispers. “I know.” She holds him for a long moment, trying to put enough big sister love in the hug to last him the rest of his life. “Remember I love you, all right?”

She feels Tony nod, his little head moving up and down against her shoulder.

They stay that way for another moment, and then Rose pries his hands off her neck, holding them both in hers and looking him in the eye. “You’ll do something great someday, yeah? I’m sorry I won’t be around to see it.”

Tony nods again. His face is very, very serious in a way only toddlers ever seem to manage. He sniffles. “Goodbye.”

“Goodbye.” Rose straightens up, turning her gaze on little Gabe. “Same goes for you, little guy.” She glances to her mum. “You’re going to have to pass on the message when he gets a bit older, yeah?”

Her mum just looks at her, shaking her head. “Oh, Rose.” She passes Gabe to Pete and pulls Rose into her arms, and Rose dissolves into the hug, the last hug she’ll ever have with her mum. The last bit of motherly comfort in her life. She tries to memorize it, Jackie’s arms around her, the warmth of her body, the way something about the hug makes everything seem better, even when they’re both crying their eyes out.

“I’m going to miss you,” Rose whispers.

“I’m going to miss you, too.” Jackie’s arms tighten around Rose’s waist. “Be good now, yeah?”

“Of course, Mum.” Rose can’t bear to pull away, so she doesn’t. She lets Jackie hug her for a good long time, until finally Jackie has to be the one to end the hug.

“You’ve got to go,” she says, her eyes full of sadness. “I won’t have you stay here, getting sicker by the minute. You’ve got to go.”

“I know.” Miserably, Rose steps back. “I love you.” She looks at the whole family, taking in the final image. They make a good picture, a mum and a dad and two little children. Or, they would make a good picture, if they weren’t all obviously crying. “All of you.”

“Stay safe,” Jackie says. “Don’t get yourself in trouble! And if you find that Doctor of yours, give him a slap from me, all right?”

Rose shakes her head. “I’m not going looking for the Doctor,” she says. She’s decided she’s going to search out Jack— if there’s anyone, in any universe, who understands what she’s going through on any level, it’s going to be him.

“Well, if you see him.”

Rose manages a laugh. “Goodbye, Mum. I’ll miss you.” She feels silly, repeating the same words over and over again— I love you. I’ll miss you— but what other words will do? She looks up at John, who’s snuck his arm around her waist again, holding her up. “We’d better find the weak spot.” Just saying it is surreal. There is no part of her that wants to be doing what she’s doing right now, but she has no choice. She’d rather do this than force her family to watch her die.

“All right,” John says quietly. “Do you have the canon?”

Rose slips it out of her pocket. She and John start walking at a snail’s pace, as fast as Rose can go. They follow the dimension cannon’s beeps, which grow more and more rapid until finally they all blend together into one high-pitched tone.

“That’ll be it, then,” Rose says. She puts the cannon back in her pocket. “John—” And then she makes the mistake of looking up at his face. His perfect, beautiful face. He’s doing the thing he does where he tries to be stoic, his jaw set, but Rose can always see his true emotions in his eyes, and his eyes are crying out. “Thank you,” Rose says. “You’ve been so good to me.”

John pulls her to him, pressing their lips together in a kiss. Rose kisses him back, and kisses him back, and she doesn’t want to stop, because if she stops she has to leave, and she doesn’t want to leave. She never would’ve imagined this, the first time she kissed John on this beach: she never would’ve thought she’d be so reluctant to leave this universe. But she has a family here. A mum and dad, two little brothers, and a husband who she loves more than life itself and who loves her too much to let her lose her life for him.

It’s just not fair.

She pulls away to see tears running down John’s face. She lifts a hand, wiping one away, but another follows quickly after.

“I’m sorry,” she says.

John shakes his head. “You’ve done nothing wrong.” His sadness is tangible. “Rose Tyler-Noble.”

Rose smiles. She lifts her left hand, the one with her wedding ring. She places it against John’s, fitting her ring into the indent in his. “Always,” she says. “I love you. Always.”

“I love you too.” John pulls her to him again, cradling her head in his hand, and she wraps her arms around his waist, clinging tightly to him. They stand like that for a long time.

A wave of dizziness hits Rose. She’s been standing for too long.

And now she’s been reminded why she’s here.

She stumbles back. “I have to go,” she says. Every muscle in her body tries to stop her as she pulls the cannon back out of her pocket. She holds it out in front of her as the world swims around her. She sees her family, still standing, picturesque, in the distance. She sees John, standing in front of here with tears running down his face, making no move to stop her. And she sees the beach, this horrible, horrible beach, where nothing good ever seems to happen.

She looks at the button. She can’t press it. She needs to, but every cell in her body is screaming NO. “I don’t—” She gulps. “I don’t want to go. John, I don’t want to go. I want to stay here.”

“I know.” His voice is calm. Too calm. The kind of calm he uses to deliver terrible news.

Rose already knows the terrible news.

“I love you,” she says again. “Remember that I love you. And— there’s so much I want to say. There’s no time.”

“It’s all right,” John says, even though it’s not. “Rose, you’re going to be okay.”

Rose only sobs harder, pushing her hair out of her face so it doesn’t get stuck in the tears. “But I won’t be with you.”

“I know.”

Rose nods. She takes a deep breath, trying to steel her courage.

“I love you,” she says again, because she won’t get another chance. She kisses him again, because she won’t get another chance.

She closes her eyes.

She forces her fist towards the button.

When she opens her eyes, it’s to blinding sunlight on a street corner. John is nowhere to be seen. She sinks down onto the sidewalk, burying her face in her hands, trying to hide her sobs from passersby.

She’s lost everything except her life.

It had better be worth it.

[might-be-a-zygon]

How about Terror and 19 for thasmin but also, as an additional request if you're able, the Doctor has to be the one to say it.

The Nightmares Gonna Get You

The Patient has no idea how long she has been in the facility.

She doesn’t even really know where the facility is. She knows that probably isn’t it’s real name, but it’s the only thing she’s ever heard them call it.

The Mother says it’s a hospital, and with all the doctor’s buzzing around, that makes sense, but it doesn’t look much like a hospital. Well, she doesn’t think it looks like a hospital, anyway. When the Patient thinks of the word hospital, her mind conjures images of sterile white rooms and blue gloves and rows and rows of beds. She doesn’t exactly know where that image comes from, but she’s never been in any hospital that looked like that.

Thinking about it, she isn’t sure she’s ever been anywhere but the facility.

One of the doctors comes to tuck her in at night. She doesn’t need tucking in, of course, she’s hardly a child, but she knows that the Mother wants to monitor when she’s in bed, and sending the doctors to deal with her is a reliable way to know that she’s actually where she’s supposed to be. The Patient doesn’t mind much- the doctors are mostly kind, and she’d rather have them checking in on her than the Mother.

“How’re you feelin’?” The doctor asked, walking up to her and placing a hand on her forehead as though checking for a fever, though she hadn’t suffered from one after a tissue sample before. It was never a fun experience, but she bounced back quick.

This doctor doesn’t come to see her that often- she’s always assumed he must work less hours than the ones she sees more often. He also looks the least at home in his white lab coat, constantly tugging on the lapels as though he is used to a different sort of jacket. Still, his Northern accent is comforting to her- a little slice of a home she can never quite remember. Nobody else in the hospital talks much like her, after all.

“It’s. Alright. Bit sore.” She admits after a few moments, trying to downplay the pain. She doesn’t want them to give her the painkillers again- they make her dreams even worse than normal, and she really doesn’t want to face that.

He gives her an understanding look, nodding and stepping back. “D’ya need anythin’ else before I turn the lights out?” He asks. She shakes her head.

The doctor makes a half-hearted attempt at pulling the heavy red covers up over her, though he doesn’t tuck them in like the Mother does, on those rare nights she comes in person. The Patient is glad of it- she hates those nights, spent pinned under covers wrapped far too tight. They’re almost as bad as the nights she has to spend in the real restraints, when experiments go wrong, and the Mother is angry with her and the doctors can’t talk her down.

“I might see you tomorrow.” He promises, though from the sound of it he doesn’t seem convinced he will, “I think the Mother has somethin’ planned for you, so I might be there. Sleep well.”

She doesn’t get a chance to ask what is being planned before he’s hurriedly gathering up his clipboard and leaving. Nobody in the facility is willing to get on the Mother’s bad side.

Her room here is pretty. It has soft red carpets, and faded black wallpaper patterned with golden spirals which catch the orange light streaming through the window. When she really thinks about it, the Patient thinks it’s a little better than those all-white rooms in her head, where everything looks brand new. Still, if the pretty room is supposed to put her at ease, it never does.

The pattern on the wallpaper is nice- she can count the circles in the design when she got stressed to calm herself, but the sheets, the curtains, and the carpet are all that dark crimson colour which sets her teeth on edge. When the sun begins to go down, and the room is thrown into darkness aside from the harsh reddish glow of the lights on the machines, it looked almost as though the walls themselves are bleeding.

There are some days when that carpet feels sticky underfoot, as though there really is blood seeping through it to maintain its rich colour.

Today hasn’t been one of those days, though she can’t deny that it’s beginning to develop an unusual shine as the light outside her window darkens. Maybe it’s just that she can’t sleep. She’s tried shutting her eyes, and counting sheep, and staring at the shifting golden patterns on the wall until her eyes lose focus, but exhausted as she is, nothing seems likely to push her into the realm of sleep.

She turns over, and immediately regrets it as it puts fresh pressure on the bandage curled around her arm, further aggravating the wound underneath. She sucks in a hiss of a breath through her teeth, her fingers moving to rest over the top of the bandage, checking that it it’s not wet. Luckily, she doesn’t seem to have done any damage, though she can practically feel the hours-old stitches straining to hold the skin together.

It’s important, somehow. They need the tissue sample to test for- something. The Mother didn’t say what- just that it’s very important. The Patient knows better than to argue with the Mother. Arguing with the doctors sometimes gets her rest when the tests are getting too hard, but with the Mother? Arguing never stops the testing, it just gets her restrained for them- and that just makes them so much worse.

She flexes her fingers, and lifts her hand a few inches off of the bed, trying to ignore the phantom squeeze of the cuff she isn’t wearing now, and remind herself that she isn’t tied up anymore.

She was a good girl, today. She didn’t need to be tied up.

Just as the Patient is considering getting up- just standing briefly to try and clear some of that sickly feeling in her stomach when she hears shoes clicking down the hallway outside. She shuts her eyes and feigns sleep, just as the door cracks open.

“Hello, my dear. What do you say that we drop the pretence, hmm?” A voice comes from the doorway. They know she’s awake.

The Patient knows that voice- its one of the doctors. The older one, with the playful glint in his eyes and the wild grey hair. She likes him. He has some posh accent she can never place, and he always looked hilariously out of place in his plain white lab coat.

She hasn’t seen him in a long time.

She keeps her eyes shut, just to be safe.

“It’s okay to be afraid- you’re hardly the first person here to get scared.” The doctor promises, checking over her bandage with gentle hands. He speaks with a soft lull at the end of his words, like he’s speaking to a child. The Patient knows she’s been at the facility far too long to be considered a child, but the effect is still a little comforting. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell the Mother.”

The Patient nods, almost imperceptibly, a hint of a smile crossing her face. She opens her eyes just a crack so she can see him heading for the door, outlined against the artificial light of the hallway.

The shadows on the walls seemed to grow darker now- blocking out even the shimmering gold woven through the wallpaper and making it difficult to see the exact diameters of the room. When she closes her eyes, the Patient can feel the walls closing in on her, threatening to crush her under the weight of her own delusions. She sits there, afraid to even blink, with the ache in her arm becoming worse and worse as the night draws on.

She doesn’t know how long it’s been since the doctor came to check on her. Another one will come soon, and she knows she shouldn’t be awake when it happens, but how is she supposed to sleep when every time she closes her eyes she feels like she’s suffocating.

Another doctor comes, as though her just thinking about the possibility. She feigned sleep again, but this time he didn’t even pretend to be taken in.

“No point trying to hide it. I know you’re up.”

The Patient opens her eyes guiltily, looking up at the doctor with some relief. It was the funny little man with his dark eyes and sly smile- not always the friendliest, but usually more then willing to bend the rules about her treatment plan when she was upset.

“Now. The Mother did tell me to give you the jab if you weren’t asleep yet-“ Her eyes are suddenly drawn to the needle in his top pocket, which frankly seems far larger than necessary. If he gets that sedative into her she’ll lose control of herself, and she’s always hated that.

She shakes her head quickly, not daring to actually speak, just in case. It wouldn’t be the first time the Mother had been listening at the door while she was with a doctor.

“No?” He raises an eyebrow at her before breaking into a grin. “Never was a fan of needles myself. How about-“ He takes out the needle and uncaps it, squirting the colourless liquid inside into a potted plant. He taps his nose twice conspiratorially, and then pulls out a small, circular plaster from his pocket, sticking it onto her arm where the needle should have entered. “That should do it. No one needs to know.”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me. Be better next time. You’re very bad at fake sleeping.”

“I’ll try.”

He takes a step away, before moving back to her side, and patting her rather awkwardly on the arm. “Do try to get some sleep. Big day tomorrow.”

She doesn’t get the chance to ask what he means by that, before he’s disappearing out into the hallway, and she’s alone again.

Big day tomorrow.

She hasn’t been told about anything particularly special that would be happening, but a big day in the facility was never a good thing. Big days meant big tests, and big tests were always painful, and often humiliating.

Sleep is certainly not coming for her any time soon. She kept thinking back to the last big day she’d had- they had said they needed to test her physical endurance, and had made her run until she collapsed, and every cell in her body burned. It’d been a week before she could even stand without one of the doctor’s helping her. She’d begged and cried, but ever time she fell the Mother had shushed her, and kissed the top of her head, and helped her to her blistered feet, and set her off running again.

The Patient shudders at the memory.

When the door creaks open for a third time, she isn’t pretending to be asleep at all, unable to face closing her eyes and reliving that last big day long enough to feign sleep. Luckily, it is another doctor, not the Mother, this time one of the younger ones. She’d always liked this one a lot- he had a mop of brown hair that tended to fall into his eyes, and a big, infectious smile, like he was excited about even the simplest things.

“Hi” He moves quickly over to her, sitting on the edge of her bed like he’s just a visitor. “I can’t help but notice you’re not sleeping. Why not?”

She flinches slightly at the question, but can’t bring herself to respond properly. It’s embarrassing.

“Are you scared?” He asks, prompting a slight nod from her. To her dismay, he actually smiles at that. “Good! Good- scared is good. Promise. You shouldn’t let scared keep you up.”

“I don’t like being scared.” She tries to argue, but he just shakes his head.

“Well, no. Nobody does- but some things that’re good for us don’t feel good. Like choosing broccoli over ice cream! Actually- don’t do that. Don’t ever do that- that’s a rubbish example.”

“So how am I meant to sleep when I’m scared?”

“I could tell you a story?” He offers. She nods, once again struck by how brightly he smiles. “Okay! Once upon a time- no. No that’s not a good way to start. Once upon a time stories are too far away. They’re boring. How about.” He pauses, giving her another of those warm smiles. “How about we start like this. Somewhere out there in the Universe, there’s a woman. She might look ordinary, but she’s seen galaxies born and die, and she’s here to help. And, when she finds you- all you have to do is ask.”

“Will you tell me more about her?”

The doctor hesitates, glancing at the door, before turning back to the Patient with a smile. “I guess a few more minutes won’t hurt.”

 Yaz didn’t like the sound of this ‘Facility X’ thing in the slightest. She trusted the Doctor, of course she did, but splitting up in a place like this seemed like madness. Then again, this whole trip seemed like madness, really. Following a cryptic message on the psychic paper to a creepy hospital? It would  hardly have been her first choice for a good day out. Still, the Doctor seemed to think that one of the patients here was in trouble, and she wasn’t going to argue with that.

She managed to ‘borrow’ a white coat like the Doctor had suggested. So far none of the staff had given her a second look as she wandered around, looking for any patient in distress, who might have been the one to send the message, while the Doctor wormed her way into their systems to give them an out.

She was becoming increasingly unsettled by the fact that every patient room she’d passed had been empty.

 It’s the oldest of the Patient’s Doctors who comes to wake her in the morning. She usually struggles to get along with him as much as she does with the others, but this time when he comes into the room he places a gentle hand on her shoulder, and gives her a grandfatherly smile.

That’s when she knows that whatever’s going to happen to her today is going to be very bad.

“I’m sorry you’ve no breakfast this morning, my dear. The Mother says you mustn’t eat before your procedure.”

“It’s okay.” She promised, moving to climb out of bed. He holds an arm out for her to steady herself, though she really didn’t need it, she takes it anyway. “What time is it going to be?”

“I haven’t the foggiest. The Mother said she’d be sending someone along to do your bloods, so it should be a good few hours, yet.”

“Am I allowed to drink anythin’ before?”

“I tell you what, I’ll ask around, and send someone up with a nice cup of tea or something, if you’re allowed.”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me, my dear girl. I’m just doing my job.” He seems to hesitate for a moment, as though he’s not sure whether he’s allowed to give her any affection, and then, once again, settles for a good natured pat on her uninjured arm. “You’ll be okay getting dressed by yourself?” The Patient nods. “Well then. I’ll be seeing you later. Good luck.”

And, just like that, she’s left alone to drag her tired body out of bed and begin dressing herself.

There’s never any verity to the clothes, here. There isn’t any attempt to make her look pretty, like they did with the room. Every day she puts on an identical greyish-brown smock dress that gives the doctors easy access for any procedures that were going on. It’s a little too thin to provide any warmth, and the fabric is itchier than she’d like, but the one time she’d asked the Mother to try something different- well it hadn’t gone well.

Simple as it is to get on and off, she’s still just barely finished buttoning it when the door is thrown open again, revealing yet another doctor, this one holding a paper cup with a lid out to her.

It’s the tall one with the wild curls and the slightly unhinged smile. She always dreaded having him in the room for testing- he’d always make her laugh and the Mother would get so cross with her, but when they were like this, and there was nobody else around he made things a little brighter.

“Mornin’, doctor.” She greats him, taking the cup gratefully.

“It’s just water today, I’m afraid,” He winks at her. She takes a sip of the orange juice, shooting him a covert smile. “Oh, hang on a moment, I think-“ He moves forwards as though to fix one of the clasps on her dress for her, instead pressing a small brown paper bag into her hands. Before he’s fully pulled back, he brings a finger to his lips in a ‘shush’ motion. “Keep your strength up for today.”

She glances down, peaking at the little bag of sweets, before moving to tuck them under her pillow.

“Thanks.” She steps back at where they’re hidden, knowing she’s best of waiting until after her bloods have been done to actually start eating them. It’s pretty rare that she has something to look forward to, so the illicit treat means a lot.

“Just don’t let the Mother find out about them, she’ll have my head for messing with the experiment.”

The doctor shoots her another manic grin, tugging on the lapels of his white coat, before heading towards the door. He turns back at the last minute, adding, “Oh, and, good luck today. I know you can handle it.” as an afterthought.

The Patient finds herself sincerely hoping that he’s right.

 “She’s nearly ready for a full harvest.” Yaz heard one of the white-clad staff-members of Facility X muttering to another.

She’d found a clipboard somewhere along the route, and was now walking along pretending to check the readings on various pieces of equipment while jotting down everything she overheard. If she couldn’t find the patient they were supposed to be helping, she was at least going to have as much information as she could when the Doctor came out to meet her again.

“Oh yeah? Why are they so sure this one is going to survive? None of the others did.”

“The boss keeps saying this one is strong. Her mind is protecting itself from the machine.”

“If there’s as much to go around as the boss seems to think there’ll be-” The conversation was cut short by a grotesque, inhuman slurping noise as one of the workers licked his lips. Yaz did her best not to show her revulsion.

She walked off quickly, past another row of empty rooms.

She was really, really hoping the Doctor was doing better at finding this mystery patient than she was, because it sounded like the girl was in trouble.

 “So, are you here to do my blood tests?” The Patient asks, looking up at the newest doctor to arrive. She isn’t used to seeing him here, at least not for the nastier tasks like these. He was usually one of the gentler ones who she met when she was recovering from procedures, than the one actually administering them.

“I’m afraid so.” He gives a weak smile, pushing a few strands of blonde hair out of his face. His hair seems a little longer than the last time she saw him- it’s not much shorter than hers is, now. “And I’m sure you’re not any happier about it than I am, so lets get this done and dusted and you’ll be able to take some quiet time before your procedure this afternoon.”

The idea of quiet time in this place seems a little redundant, at least in the Patient’s eyes. All of her time is quiet time, really- at least all the time she doesn’t spend being tested. She’s never seen another patient in the facility, and the doctors rarely come and visit her this often. It’s putting her on edge, now many of them seem to be working today.

If they need this many doctors around, the procedure which the Mother is planning has to be very dangerous.

“You look nervous.” The doctor states, looking at her.

At first, the Patient shakes her head, but he gives her a knowing look.

“I never like the needles.” She admits quietly, her eyes darting towards the door, looking for any sign of the Mother.

The doctor looks at her again for a moment, before quickly standing up. “I’ll see if anyone is on break who can come sit with you. The Mother is busy right now, so you don’t have to worry about her- I won’t tell if you won’t.”

His smile is genuinely kind as he picks up his bag, moving towards the door again, at a pace which suggests he’s a little more worried about running into the Mother than he’s letting on. Still, he comes back a few minutes later, with another doctor trailing behind him. She’s always had a soft spot for this one. He reminds her of the hero of some romance novel she’d read a very long time ago- she didn’t like the book enough to remember the specifics, but the feeling of vague fondness towards the protagonist persisted.

“So, I know this whole thing is a bit nasty, but I’m sure we can get the whole thing delt with nice and quick, how does that sound?” The Patient gives him a dubious look, and he shrugs apologetically. “Nothing else we can do I’m afraid.”

“I hear this kind of thing is supposed to be easier if you keep talking?” The blonde doctor suggests. The Patient looks at him for a moment, though immediately regrets it when she sees him getting the equipment ready to take her blood. She knows there’s an easier way of doing this, but the Mother always says that the results aren’t as good when they do it like that.

“Yes! Excellent idea!” Exclaims the other. She’d never understand how he could sound so enthusiastic in a place like this. “Talk to me.”

“About what?” She asks, sounding more baffled than nervous for the first time.

“Oh, anything. What did you dream about last night?” The brunette takes her other hand as the first needle punches through the skin.

“A-“ Her breath caught slightly at the familiar sensation. She’s used to being prodded and poked with needles, but pairing the pain with the dread of what was happening next made it worse. “A woman.”

He grins at her. “Oh? Dreaming about a girl, that’s always good sign. Tell me more.”

“She’s brilliant- she’s clever, and kind, and she cares so much about people. She travels the whole universe, and, I think that she’s coming to get me.”

 “Hey, new girl.” Yaz looked up from the machine she’d been pretending to examine when one of the staff members clicked their fingers at her. She pointed to herself, and the white-clad employee rolled their eyes. “Yes you. Here, now.”

She held her clipboard a little tighter, flipping onto a blank page as she went so they wouldn’t see what she’d been writing.

“I need you to take these-“ A plastic bag of wires was thrust unceremoniously into her hands. “Up to the boss. She’s having some problems with the temporal manipulation in the patients room.”

“What?” Yaz asked, trying to play dumb to get a bit more information from them. If they thought she was new, she might be able to push them into telling her what was actually going on here.

“The timestream in the patient’s room is supposed to be moving faster than it is- look, you don’t have to understand it, just do as you’re told and get those over there.”

“Over where?” When that question won her a dirty look, Yaz held up the clipboard with it’s blank sheet, and offered an apologetic smile. “Sorry- It’s my first day, and I don’t want to keep the boss waiting. Think you could-“

The employee snatched the clipboard off of her, drawing a crude map of the facility, with an X marking the patient room.

She shuffled off very quickly, glancing at the map with a triumphant expression. Whenever the Doctor managed to set off her distraction she could run out with the patient- it’d be perfect. She just wished the Doctor would hurry and give her the signal already.

 The Patient is seeing all of her doctors today, it seems. The one with the spikey hair arrived with a new dress for her, and before he’s even said a word she knows what the procedure is.

She’s being reset.

“The Mother sent me- told me to ask you to change.” He says, his tone gentle, though he seems a little nervous, as though he doesn’t want to be delivering this news any more than she wants to be hearing it.

A reset is the most painful procedure they ever give her. She’s never been reset in the same twice- the Mother wanted to test the effects of different methods on her- but every time her body would burn like fire, and she would walk away irrevocably changed.

She takes the dress wordlessly, just staring at it. It’s several sizes too big for her- just in case. She never knows what she’ll look like after this, so it’s better to have something too big on than to tear through her clothing if it’s too small.

“Oh, chin up.” His voice is full of false cheer, “I know it’s hard.” The doctor says, leaning against the wall, and watching her tug at the greyish fabric. “It’s got to be scary, knowing you’re going to come out as somebody else- but at least you know you’re going to come out of it. You just have to be strong for a little bit longer, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Someone’s going to come collect you soon. You’re not going to be on your own.” He smiles at her, a warm, genuine smile which makes the corners of her lips twitch up too. “I know you’ll get through it.” He promises, before walking away.

She stares at the too-big dress for another minute or so, before beginning to change. It isn’t as though the Mother will let her get away with not going through with it just because she didn’t put on the proper outfit.

There’s something inherently unsettling about dressing herself for her own funeral- a sense of unrivalled dread she’ll never quite get over.

Because deep down, she already knows this won’t be the last reset.

In the end, two doctors came to fetch her. They couldn’t look more different- one with a mop of dark hair, and one with a mess of blonde curls- but they’re both giving her identical looks of mingled pity and pride.

The blonde moves first. linking arms with the Patient, and offering her a too-bright smile. She can see he’s trying to cover his own distress.

“Right then. Not long now- it’ll all be over, nice and quick.”

“You won’t feel a thing.” The dark-haired doctor promises in turn, as the two of them began to usher her down a corridor, towards whatever the Mother had waiting.

 The longer it’d been with no word from the Doctor, the more worried Yaz became. She’d gone in first, she should have managed to get into the systems by now, right? Yaz had fulfilled her end of the bargain.

In the end, she headed for the area the Doctor had entered, finding a mountain of equipment, but no Doctor in sight.

She picked up the device the Doctor had been working on. It seemed to be wired in properly…

“I really hope this works…” She muttered, hitting the keys on the thing to try and set the timer. It should draw most of the staff away from the patient. Hopefully the Doctor had had the same thought before she left it.                            

She took off at a run now, mostly abandoning her pretence at being staff, and just desperate to reach the patient’s room- which, luckily, seemed to be in the same central hub of the building as the electricals.

Somehow, the patients room looked less like a hospital than the rest of the facility- a single, empty room painted an inky black colour. There was only one woman inside that she could see, standing over a large machine with a gleeful expression on her face. Yaz couldn’t get the best look at the machine, though from what she could see of it, it looked like some kind of goth-styled MRI machine.

“I don’t need those wires anymore.” The woman said, sounding annoyed at the intrusion. “The loop is working perfectly- time is moving faster for her in there. She’s just strong- keeps putting up mental blocks.”

“Mental blocks?” Yaz asked, taking a few steps closer. She pulled one of the wires out of the bag, just in case, waiting for- well, she didn’t really know what would happen when that timer hit zero, but she knows it’ll probably be loud enough to give her an advantage.

“Yes. It’s funny to watch. The whole scenario feels real to her- created from her deepest seated fears. She needs to be really afraid for us to harvest her.” The woman made another of those nauseating slurping noises. “She’s been subconsciously putting things in her way to stop herself from scaring too easily. Most people can’t get that far.”

“And when you harvest her?”

“Well, that’s the question. Most people would die- that’s why we had to lure this one here.”

Yaz craned her neck, trying to get a look at whatever was in the odd, casket-like machine, but she can’t see from here. She has a feeling she already knows, though.  

 The Patient is sitting down, now. She doesn’t remember how long they walked to get here, but the doctors had left her alone in this room, waiting for the Mother to arrive. When the door opens, though, it isn’t her.

She’s always been fond of this doctor. He has a perpetually grumpy expression, messy grey hair, and a kind smile, despite his intimidating looks. He’s gentle as he begins attaching wires to her, though she knows that he’s sentencing her to death.

“I don’t want this.” She admits.

“Well, then. Why don’t you ask for help?” He says, as though it’s that simple. He has a funny accent which reminds her of friends she can’t quite remember.

“I can’t.”

“I’m the last one now.” He presses a wire to her wrist, holding her hand a little more tightly than he needs to as he does. “After I go, it’s just you.”

“I don’t want to change again.”

“So don’t.” He says, still speaking as though that’s the obvious answer.

“But the Mother-“

“Well.” He scoffed, “If you’re going to let the Mother define your whole existence, it‘s your own fault, not isn’t it?”

“Then how?”

He gives her one of those kind smiles, standing up once she’s fully wired into the machine she knows will kill her.

“Be brave, and ask for help. You can’t solve every problem on your own.”

 “So you think this one can survive it?” Yaz asked, edging slowly closer.

The woman laughed, bitterly. “Oh no, I don’t think she can survive it. I think she can fix herself after it kills her, though- it’ll give us a near infinite source.”

Something on the device lit up, and her lips curled into a wicked smirk. “There we go. She’s alone in there- almost time to-“

A deafening bang shook the whole facility, and the lights in the room sputtered out. Seizing her chance, Yaz tackled the woman to the ground, police training finally coming in handy as she dragged the woman’s hands behind her back. She didn’t have handcuffs, but the wire would do to bind them for now.

 The Patient is alone when everything begins to fall apart. The machine she’s strapped into begins sparking, and at first she thinks it’s been turned on prematurely, but then everything else seems to pixelate around her, as though the whole facility is disintegrating. She quickly begins to fight against the straps holding her to the chair.

“No…” She pulls at them trying to get to her feet- to get the wires off before the gaping void ahead of her takes her too. She doesn’t want to change but that- the eternal inky blackness threatening to swallow her alive.

She knows the doctors have to be nearby.

“Help!” She pulled at the restraints on her wrists. That terrifying abyss was close, now- almost touching her. “Somebody help me! Please!”

 “Somebody help me! Please!”

Yaz could hear shouting- familiar shouting- coming from inside the machine, and it was more than enough to distract her from the woman she’d had pinned. Her hands were tired anyway, and the explosion should have been distracting enough to buy them time. She ran to the machine, slamming her hand down on the release catch to open it up.

The Doctor sat up, dislodging more wires than Yaz would have liked from her skin, looking wide eyed and afraid, but relatively unharmed. It was odd, really- the Doctor rarely actually showed fear. She knew she felt it- remembered how the creatures on Desolation had taunted her about it, but still.It was odd to see it displayed so openly.

“Doctor?”

“Yaz…” She looked around, still coming back from whatever false reality they’d built around her. Her fingers curled around Yaz’s wrist, as though she was trying to convince herself that this was real.

“I’m here. I’m right here-“ She heard muffled noises from the bound woman across the room, trying to undo the chord ties holding her in place. “We need to go, right now. Can you run?”

The Doctor managed a weak smile, letting Yaz help her climb out of the machine.

“Always.”

[wordsablaze]

Too Much Patience Is No Help

(thw pt.4) Yaz’s cramps prove that you can sometimes create trouble for yourself by being too pure and good but all’s well that ends well… Written for prompt ‘angst’ in thasmin week 2019, enjoy!

A/N: Can you believe this took me an hour to write (not bad) but took a day to post? Grr, tumblr mobile :/ Anyway...

Cramps can curl up and die.

They're horrible and cruel and Yaz hates them to Ranksoor Av Kolos and back.

Even though she's well aware of the biological functions of cramps and all that, she can't help but hate them for the pain they refuse to stop giving her.

As it is, she's currently curled up on her bed, her body almost folded around a pillow she barely registers as she hums to herself, her eyes staying firmly shut as she blocks out the offensively bright light.

She'd planned to meet the Doctor tonight and now that plan's gone down the drain. It doesn't really matter, she knows that, because the Doctor is an actual Time Lord and the two of them can meet at any point, but it's more a matter of principle than literal events.

She'd been looking forward to this for the whole week. It had taken them four stressful days to solve the issue of those funny-looking little creatures whose names she cannot formulate no matter how hard she tries, and the Doctor had decided she'd give them some time in their ordinary lives before inviting them to another distant planet for an adventure.

She'd wanted to spend a nice, peaceful evening with the Doctor because their relationship - which she's pretty sure is more than friendship but she does need to confirm that with the Doctor just in case - is something that brings her happiness but no, she had to go and acquire cramps today of all days.

When seven o'clock rolls by and rolls past, Yaz groans and shifts so she's now facing the wall, not the window where the Doctor usually appears, pre-invited or not.

A minute and a half later, she's back to staring at the window, fiercely glaring at it as if it's in league with her cramps and responsible for all her problems.

Ten minutes later and remorse nags at her; she can't actually command her body to move and she feels bad standing the Doctor up when she'd been the one to organise the whole thing anyway.

Twenty three minutes later and she's starting to worry because the Doctor is usually overly punctual with this sort of thing and what if something bad has happened to her while Yaz is just lying on her bed, doing nothing?

Thirty three minutes later sees her getting angry; isn't she even worth checking up on if she's missing?

Thirty four minutes later, however, she's berating herself for even thinking that. The Doctor has repeatedly told her that she's one of the most important people in the universe and that she is worth everything and then some; how can she even doubt something as heartfelt and sincere as that?

Fifty two minutes later, she realises that she'd literally frowned herself into a restless nap from which she wakes with something heavy and uneasy settling in her stomach. Or maybe that's just the cramps…

An hour later and there may or may not be tears in her eyes but there's nobody else to see her and bring about embarrassment so it's fine.

Seventy minutes later and she's genuinely unsure what to feel. She's starting to doubt whether or not she'd been thinking of the right day at all. What if this was all a misunderstanding and she was overreacting like an immature toddler?

Just as she's about to give up and flop onto the floor in attempt to be sure of something - the floor is usually a constant in her life, except that one time the Doctor had taken them to a planet where floors were outlawed - and try to clear her mind, there's a subtle commotion outside her bedroom door.

She frowns, clutching the pillow a little tighter and staring at her door, attempting to try and figure out what's going on behind it. She can hear her mum talking to someone in an attempt at a hushed voice but she's not really sure what's being said or who it's being said to anyway.

A couple of minutes later, just as her cramps worsen and she squeezes her eyes shut, clenching her jaw, there's a small knock on her room door.

The pain takes a second to pass, after which she squints at her door, wondering if she'd imagined it due to her pain- but no, there it is again, determined but… shy?

"C'm'n," she manages, well aware that she's just broken every law of the English, most importantly the one that dictates you actually need to use words, but she doesn't really care because it's probably her mum offering her tea and her mum knows her well enough to know what that means.

Except her mum says nothing as the door is pushed open. Weird.

"Yaz?" a hesitant, gentle voice asks, and a familiar face that definitely does not belong to her mum pokes itself into her bedroom.

Oh.

Oh.

"Doctor?" Yaz exclaims, then winces when that somehow upsets her insides.

A look of panic flashes across the Doctor's face and she's kneeling by Yaz's bed in an instant, a cool hand on Yaz's forehead.

Without meaning to, Yaz lets out a relieved sigh, the coolness of the Doctor's skin a change from the way her skin seems to be burning the pain away. It's just cold enough to settle her nerves without causing discomfort.

Only then does she notice the faint smell of damp.

Yaz glances up properly for the first time and gasps when she realises the Doctor is just one step away from being soaking wet, her beautiful hair still beautiful but curled and dripping ever so slightly, and her clothes slightly damp, which seems impossible but it's likely she'd dried them as best as she could with the sonic to avoid getting Yaz's mum's new carpet wet.

"Hi, Yaz," the Doctor murmurs softly, leaning forwards and placing a soft kiss on Yaz's cheek.

Blushing, Yaz pushes aside the way that soothes her pain and looks outside, chiding herself for not even remotely realising how heavily it's raining. "Were you outside?" she mumbles.

The Doctor looks at the floor bashfully before shrugging. "I used to- I mean, I've had a few, uh, friends? Do you call them friends? Oh, that's not important, I mean to say I know that people like to take their time getting ready, right? I thought you were just doing the same so I-"

"For over an hour?" Yaz interrupts, her heart breaking slightly at this revelation of how the Doctor had been patiently waiting in the harsh rain for her.

The Doctor shrugs again. "It's not like it'd be the first time. I'm so sorry I didn't realise you were here! And in pain! You must think I'm so rude, mustn't you?"

Yaz shakes her head, despite the waves of pain that travel through her at the movement. "No, no, I thought- I thought you'd become preoccupied with something more important…"

Even as she says it, she knows it's a mistake. The Doctor's eyes flash with something so sharp, so intense, that it can't even be called plain old hurt anymore. Immediately, she opens her mouth to apologise but the Doctor shakes her head softly, simply pushing Yaz's hair away from her eyes with a small smile.

"Did I forget to tell you that I care for you more than most things in the universe?" The Doctor asks gently, something like regret laced in her tone.

That stings almost as much as it warms her heart.

Yaz's eyes water again; she'd messed up. She's messed up so bad and the Doctor is hurting and it's all her fault because she couldn't tolerate stupid little cramps when the Doctor had done so much for her and she wishes she could go back in time and undo the past hour she'd wasted because she was so childish and-

"Your mind is spinning lies about how you've done something wrong, isn't it?" The Doctor asks, raising an eyebrow. "I can practically hear how hard you're overthinking this."

Yaz just shakes her head. "Doctor, I'm so sorry, I-"

"I know," the Doctor assures her, and Yaz manages to believe her.

Another small kiss planted on her forehead later, the Doctor smiles widely. "So, how about some confusing stories to distract you from your pain?"

Somehow, Yaz lets out a weak, grateful chuckle. "That sounds perfect, actually."

"So it sounds like you?" the Doctor asks innocently, as if that wouldn't cause Yaz's heart to skip a beat.

She half-heartedly elbows the Doctor, an unstoppable smile on her face as the two of them settle, Yaz curling around an actual human- uh, actual Time Lord this time, rather than a pillow.

"I'm sorry," she mumbles again, locking gazes with the Doctor for a second before finding her hand and running her index finger over the small scars on her hands. It's become a habit of hers to do so, she's not even really sure why.

A moment later, the Doctor replies with: "I love you too."

Suffice to say, hearing those words is definitely worth the occasional torment of their awkward love.

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