All Fall Down - 1/1 complete.
Jul. 12th, 2023 09:05 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
silver_sunTitle All Fall Down
Fandom Doctor Who
Word Count 4k
Characters/Pairings: 8th Doctor, Fitz Kriener, Anji Kapoor. Sort of Doctor/Fitz (emerging relationship? platonic? that's up to the reader)
Rating Teen
Warnings/contains Fitz and the Doctor's relationship is very complicated, romantic frienship. Sharing a Bed,could be read as an emerging relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, injuries, Non graphic mentions of violence, spoilers for EDA: Domino Effect, Hurt Fitz
Summary Fitz had got very good at dealing with situations that ended up painful and weird, he'd travelled with the Doctor for years after all. Sometimes though, despite how self-reliant he considered himself, things could sometimes happen that were too much.
Set immediately after Eighth Doctor novel, Domino Effect.
There was only so long you could function on adrenaline and outright terror alone. Fitz had got rather good at predicting just how long that was. He suspected that anybody who travelled with the Doctor for any length of time would do as well. He also liked to imagine that he was the best at it. Well everybody had to have a talent didn't they?
So following their distressingly weird and painful trip to an alternate timeline 21st century Edinburgh he was actually rather proud of the fact that he'd not only managed to tell a joke to Anji who'd laughed at it, but that he'd also managed to get away before the Doctor had tried to explain mechanics of inverse multi dimensional theory to them.
All he needed was a shower, clean clothes, something to eat and being able to sleep in his own bed, Fitz told himself as he made his way rather unsteadily down the TARDISs unpredictable corridors. Once he'd got those he'd be fine.
Or not, he thought once he was naked in the shower and able, in the rather unforgivingly bright light, to see the full extent of the bruising. They'd certainly been thorough, he thought miserably, as he carefully touched the deep purple-black bruises that spread across his ribs and stomach.
He closed his eyes, knowing that his back was no better. None of him was, from the deep seated ache inside from what he hoped was bruised rather than actually damaged kidneys, via the sting of his split lips to the dull throb in places he'd rather not think about from when they'd kicked him in the groin. Most of the last one was in the joint between his left leg and his body, but not all and he felt sick at the memory of it.
Getting cleaned up hurt. The shampoo stung the cuts on his scalp and face, while the soap on the rest of him was a little better. Exhausted and sore, Fitz gave up. Flinging the wash cloth at the wall, he sank to the floor, opting to sit and let the water fall on him like tepid rain.
He might have escaped the Tower, but there was no escaping the memories. The pain of the beatings. Hands, fists, feet, batons. The fear of more beatings. The threats, all the things they'd said they'd do to him, terrible, violent, violating things. How they'd explained in detail all the ways they could him break him. How he'd confess to anything once they'd done with him. How he'd beg them to kill him before it was over. How it was only once they'd lied to him that they'd caught Anji and would do the same to her that he'd given them their false confession. How afterwards he'd been left in agony, alone and terrified in the dark, beset by cold, hunger and the humiliation of his own soiled and filthy clothes.
Perhaps if it had been aliens, something green or purple and all blobby and gross, it would have been better. Easier to rationalise anyway. But they'd all been humans. They'd not been under mind control or anything like that. Technically they been far more human than he was these days. Which was a horrible thought.
Drawing his knees up to his chest Fitz closed his eyes. He felt wretched. All of it had stirred up to many memories. How he'd been bullied at school and afterwards for nothing more than his German name. How easily he could see the world of his childhood having spiralled into that nightmare future, how he could have ended up living in such a hell.
Fitz wasn't quite sure how long he's spent in the shower, thoughts chasing around his head. The TARDIS never seemed to run out of hot water, so it hadn't been like his old flat where you only got ten minutes if you were lucky.
Unsteady on his feet, Fitz slowly got out of the shower and wrapped a towel gingerly about his waist. He'd have to walk to his room, and honestly the idea of running into Anji or the Doctor in the nude was more embarrassment than he thought he could stand, as it came complete with dreadfully humiliating possibility of him doing something like bursting into tears.
So it was just Fitz's luck that as he walked out the bathroom he almost tripped over the Doctor who'd been waiting outside.
They stared at each other for a moment. Fitz clutching the towel about his waist, too surprised to anything else. While the Doctor looked at him, pale blue eyes filled with shock and sorrow, while somewhere in their depths burnt something cold and furious. He reached out to touch one of the more vibrantly awful bruises on his collarbone. "Oh Fitz, whatever did they do to you?"
Fitz thought that it was the wobble in the Doctor's voice that got to him the most. He wanted to reply with some smart comeback to let him know that he was alright. Would be. Eventually. Hopefully. After all he always had been before. Wasn't that what he was supposed to do? Instead what came out was a small choked noise, before he started to shake, exhaustion and shock finally catching up with him.
The Doctor looked slightly panicked for a moment, then put an arm carefully around Fitz, letting him lean on him for support. "I think you'd better come with me."
Fitz's nodded and shuffled along side the Doctor, not really sure where he was going. He trusted the Doctor, so he went anyway.
Their destination turned out to be a bedroom. Not his own room, Fitz realised, the lack of mess, stale cigarette smoke and a guitar were a dead give away. No, he realised with a start, this was the Doctor's room. His bedroom.
It felt safe. The safest place in the the universe, he thought a little wildly. Not that it was, his treacherous brain supplied a moment later. The Doctor was hardly safe, he ran from one near disaster to the next, dragging those closest to him into life threatening danger without a second thought for their safety. Then at the last moment he'd manage to pull some incredible, impossible solution seemingly out of thin air, all while looking like some slightly baffled Edwardian gentleman who was desperately trying not to appear out of his depth.
The Doctor guided him to the bed, helping him sit down, hands cool and gentle on Fitz's battered skin. "Sit here, I shan't be long."
Fitz watched him take off his frockcoat and place it neatly on a chair, before rolling up his sleeves. A tremor of fear coiled in him. He closed his eyes, and pushed it down the best he could. It was stupid, the Doctor was hardly about to work him over too, but he couldn't stop himself from shaking.
The Doctor was muttering to himself as he rummaged though the contents of a battered old steamer trunk. Finally with a bright smile, he turned back to Fitz, holding up a small, green glass jar. "Knew I had some in here somewhere." He frowned then added. "Actually I'm not sure how I knew. It probably doesn't matter, does it?"
Fitz shook his head. He couldn't deal with the Doctor's amnesia right now. He really didn't think he couldn't deal with anything at all.
The Doctor brought a chair over and sat down in front of him. He touched Fitz's hand, trying to reassure him. "Will you let me help you? You do trust me, don't you?"
Fitz nodded. Of course he trusted him. Why would the Doctor even think he wouldn't? Even when he'd been scared out of his wits facing execution he'd trusted him to come and save him. Admittedly it had been Anji in the end, but the Doctor had helped organise it, so in a way it had also been him.
The contents of the jar once it was opened smelt sweet and a bit citrusy, a little like icing sugar and lemon drops, with something vaguely antiseptic hiding underneath. It tingled where the Doctor was trying his hardest to apply it as gently as possibly to his bruised and battered flesh. It made Fitz feel weak and wobbly, the kindness and care in his touch breaking down him far faster that violence had achieved. He took a shaky breath, emotions as raw and painful as his body.
The Doctor paused, fingertips barely touching the vicious boot mark on his side. "Sorry. I really am trying to be careful," he said unhappy with the idea that he was causing pain. "Should I stop?"
Fitz shook his head, mortified as wet little sob finally broke free, tears stinging as they rolled over the cut on his cheek.
Later Fitz realised that somewhere between him just about holding it together and breaking down completely the Doctor had put his arms around him and drawn him close. He'd let him cry, face pressed into the crook of his neck, tears soaking through his waistcoat and into his shirt, until finally it had passed.
Shivery and weak, Fitz decided he didn't have any energy left to be embarrassed, so he sat pliantly while the Doctor had finished applying the cream to all his injuries. Including the one hidden under the towel, the Doctor having moved the cloth just enough to apply the cream to the bruising, without revealing anything else.
The Doctor sat with him afterwards, not talking or pushing him to talk. Fitz thought it was probably just as well as he suspected they'd have both been rubbish at it. All the same it was good to have company while the cream, whatever it was, started to work.
Comfortably numb, his thoughts fuzzy round the edges, Fitz felt his eyes start to close. "Should go to bed," he mumbled, not relishing the idea of the walk back to his room.
"I should have probably mentioned that it does have a rather soporific effect on humans. But you do need to rest, so it's probably not a bad thing," the Doctor said pulling back the covers. "In you get then."
Fitz blinked owlishly, more than half asleep. It felt rather strange to be getting into the Doctor's bed, but mostly though it felt good. It was soft and warm, and he really was so very tired.
....
Fitz woke his heart beating too fast for comfort, but there was no other sense of having woken from a nightmare. He lay under the heavy covers, trying to order his jumbled thoughts. He still ached, but the worst of the pain was gone. Memories of it and of the fear he'd felt lingered, and Fitz knew it would be a while before that started to go away. Lying there in the dark, thoughts chasing round his head wasn't going to help, what he needed was a distraction.
He looked around the room. Most of it was in darkness, apart from the small lamp next to the Doctor. It surprised Fitz a little that he was still there, rather than working on something in the console room or talking to Anji. But watching him was just the distraction that he needed.
The Doctor was sitting at an ancient writing desk dismantling what appeared to an Art Deco toaster crossed with a digital alarm clock, but was probably neither. Or perhaps it had originally been both of those things and the Doctor had decided that he could combine them and make...well Fitz wasn't sure what it would make, although to be honest there was reasonable chance that the Doctor didn't actually know what he was making either.
Whatever it was it didn't seem to be progressing in the way he wanted, not if the way he kept frowning at it was anything to go by. Eventually curiosity got the better of Fitz and he asked, "So what's it gonna be?"
Startled, the Doctor looked round at him almost falling off his chair as he did so, the parts he'd been working on falling to the floor with a crash. "I didn't wake you, did I?" he asked, more worried about his companion than what he'd been working on. "I thought I was being quiet."
"You didn't, I've slept enough for now." Fitz sat up carefully, body tensed against pain that thankfully failed to materialise. Trying to sound up beat, he added, "You know that stuff you put on me really works. Wish I'd had that a few times in the past, I can tell you."
"I rather wished you hadn't," the Doctor replied. He prodded one of the clock like parts on the desk before adding a little peevishly, "I'd rather not carry around any more images of you in pain in my head. Thank you very much."
"I didn't mean it like that," Fitz said surprised and a little hurt. He'd not asked to be hurt, he'd been very against the idea in fact. And he hadn't asked the Doctor to lurk outside shower. Why had he even been there? Fitz wondered. It wasn't like him, especially not when there were dozens of potentially dangerous time and reality related things going on that were much more important than he was.
"I suppose that's alright then," the Doctor replied miserably. He picked up a couple of the parts and half heartedly tried to fit them together before sighing and putting them down again. He stared at them, rubbed his eyes and tried again, before abandoning them entirely.
There was definitely something off in how the Doctor was behaving, Fitz realised. Nothing massive worrying like he was seriously ill or had been replaced with a robot clone odd, just that he seemed out of sorts.
"I didn't ask before," Fitz said, hoping he wasn't about to make everything ten times worse. "But are you okay?"
The Doctor stared at him with looked like barely concealed fear, before hurriedly returning his attention back to his desk. "I'm quite alright, it was only the temporal distortion after all. I had it the easiest of all of us. Honestly Fitz, really should try to get some more sleep."
It wasn't convincing in the slightest. Which worried Fitz even more. Anji had mentioned something about the Doctor having been unwell while they'd tried to work out what was going on. He suspected that she'd glossed over it a bit once she'd seen the state he'd been in. She'd also mentioned that the Doctor had known Alan Turing in their own timeline, and that they'd been pretty close. Given what the alternate one had said about why he'd been in the Tower, and the look on the Doctor's face when he'd died, Fitz wondered if friends was the best description of what they'd been to each other.
Whether it had been like that or not seeing somebody you really cared about, even an alternate reality one, dying right in front of you was a pretty horrible experience. Certainly enough to make anyone, whether they were centuries old amnesiac Time Lord or not, upset.
The Doctor had helped him so much earlier, he'd be a terrible friend if he didn't at least try to return the favour, Fitz told himself. Not that he had any particularly good ideas about how to do it. Mainly because his own ideas of how to get over something generally involved drinking far too much and ending up in bed with a women he wouldn't remember the name of in the morning. He doubted the Doctor would ever go along with it. He was more of a cup of tea and a hug type of person.
Fitz considered asking the Doctor if he wanted either of those, but decided against it. He didn't want to get out of bed and find the kitchen, and the hugs between them had always been something spontaneous and joyful. He didn't think either of them could muster anything close currently.
The Doctor was still looking down at the worn surface of the desk, shoulders tense and head bowed. He looked exhausted, Fitz thought, which gave him an idea. "Do you want to come to bed?"
The Doctor looked at him shocked, but not, Fitz realised, horrified. Which was somehow so much better and so much worse all that same time. "For sleeping. I mean. It's that you...um...that I...er.....you just looked a bit tired, that all." Real smooth, Fitz chided himself. He gave the Doctor what he hoped was an encouraging smile rather than something that looked demented or terrified.
"Oh. Yes, sleeping. Of course. I mean if you don't mind," the Doctor looked faintly embarrassed by his mistake. "I don't need to sleep, but I could sleep. It might quite useful to sleep really. In fact I don't know when I'll get the chance again you see. With what's happened I'm going to be very busy. It could be too much dangerous later."
The Doctor was afraid, Fitz could tell. He always spoke too fast, getting tangled in his own words when he was. He'd been with him enough years to know that. He moved over so there was enough room for the Doctor to join him, and said, "You probably should then. Me and Anji need you...I mean for rescuing us and things. It always seems to happen sooner or later, doesn't it?"
There was a nervous, relieved little smile on the Doctor's face and he looks like he was about to speak then stopped. He tried again, then sighed, before managing a very quiet, "Thank you."
The Doctor didn't seem to have any nightwear, so after removing his waistcoat and trousers, he left his shirt on and then rather cautiously got into bed. Opting to lie as far away from Fitz as possible while doing a passable impression of a lump of wood. Which was, Fitz rapidly decided, annoying and rubbish, because neither of them was going to get any rest like that.
The hug idea came back to him, and he moved closer until he was almost spooned up against the Doctor's back. He didn't move or even acknowledge the fact Fitz had, remaining ridiculously cold and tense. It made Fitz worry that perhaps he hadn't been honest with him about his health. Without thinking, he placed a hand on the Doctor's chest, needing reassurance that the strange double beat of his hearts was still there, still strong and well.
There was small, startled intake of air and Fitz was braced for a "whatever are you doing?" when the Doctor tentatively placed his hand over Fitz's. Then, when he wasn't rejected, he curled his fingers under the edge of his companions palm.
For a moment Fitz forgot how to breath. It meant too much to put into words, so he didn't try. It was thank you, stay, I need this, this is alright, I want you here, and so many other things that neither of them were any good at saying out loud. He dipped his head, resting it against the Doctor's shoulder. In turn the Doctor gave his hand a gentle squeeze, a simple reassurance that somehow all would eventually be well.
Slowly the Doctor relaxed. Fitz wasn't entirely sure if he was sleeping, with the Doctor it could have been some mediative state, but the tension had drained from him, his skin now merely cool rather than cold. The Doctor's hand was still curled about his own, holding it in place over his hearts, his slow, even breathes tickling the hairs on Fitz's arm.
It was something almost indescribably intimate about it, yet it didn't feel sexual. It was weird, Fitz thought, because normally when he was naked and snuggled up with someone in bed it generally meant only one thing. It wasn't like they were just two blokes sharing a bed because they were too tired or drunk to find their own either. No, there was touching and holding and genuine affection between them and consequently and Fitz had absolutely no idea what to call it. Did it have a name? he wondered, brain starting to fog over with the need for sleep again. Did it even need one?
It was all a bit confusing and wonderful, rather like the Doctor himself, Fitz thought. All he knew for certain was that he liked it, he wanted it, needed it. And by the relaxed look on the Doctor's face, sleep stripping worry and tension away, so did he. Their lives were crazy, too full of danger and pain, and nowhere near enough comfort. How they were as sane as they were after all they've been through, Fitz didn't know.
Insanity however held its own special fears for Fitz, his childhood and young adult years divided into times when his mother was sane enough to care for him and those times when she hadn't, when he'd had to care for her or lean to fend for himself.
He closed his eyes and took a not quite steady breath, the Doctor's hair curling and tickling again his nose. He couldn't go there tonight, he'd got more than enough new nightmares without reviving old ones.
No, he needed to think about something he liked. Things like beer, cigarettes, his guitar, beautiful woman and sex. Okay maybe not sex. It probably wasn't the right moment to be thinking about that or things might start getting weird. Women then. That was safe enough. He liked women. He found them attractive, how they looked, how they sounded, how they felt. Even the alien ones, and there had been a few of them over the years.
The Doctor murmured something nonsensical in his sleep about needing a longer scarf, breaking Fitz's chain of thought. He looked at him in the dim light, a strange realisation dawning. That while he might love and like women sexually at end of the day he would have never let any of them see him as he'd been earlier that night, all raw emotions, scared and hurting.
No, such things were reserved for one person alone, the Doctor, his Doctor, his very best friend. Only he was allowed to see him like that, because he trusted him heart, body and soul. Neither of them would be alive without the other, they'd have been dead, or in his case stayed dead, a dozen times over. There was no possible way, Fitz thought watching him sleep peacefully beside him, that he could ever risk giving that level of trust to anybody else.
It raised rather a lot of questions about himself, questions that he wasn't really ready to ask or even look at anything like closely. One day, Fitz suspected, they would have to talk about this, and about so many other things. But not now, tonight they could take comfort in this nameless thing, and hope for a kinder, less painful tomorrow. He smiled, grateful his lips were no longer split and sore, and fell back to sleep.
Notes.
Poor Fitz really did have an awful time if it in Domino Effect (seriously in multiple chapters he beaten up in detail) Anji too, but I couldn't see her wanting to end up in bed with either Fitz or the Doctor.
In my head after Fitz falls asleep the first time the Doctor takes the rest of the cream to Anji, so she can use it to get rid of the bruises from having a building explode on her. Becuase the Doctor really does care about both of them. He goes back to Fitz because Anji wants some time alone.
Fandom Doctor Who
Word Count 4k
Characters/Pairings: 8th Doctor, Fitz Kriener, Anji Kapoor. Sort of Doctor/Fitz (emerging relationship? platonic? that's up to the reader)
Rating Teen
Warnings/contains Fitz and the Doctor's relationship is very complicated, romantic frienship. Sharing a Bed,could be read as an emerging relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, injuries, Non graphic mentions of violence, spoilers for EDA: Domino Effect, Hurt Fitz
Summary Fitz had got very good at dealing with situations that ended up painful and weird, he'd travelled with the Doctor for years after all. Sometimes though, despite how self-reliant he considered himself, things could sometimes happen that were too much.
Set immediately after Eighth Doctor novel, Domino Effect.
There was only so long you could function on adrenaline and outright terror alone. Fitz had got rather good at predicting just how long that was. He suspected that anybody who travelled with the Doctor for any length of time would do as well. He also liked to imagine that he was the best at it. Well everybody had to have a talent didn't they?
So following their distressingly weird and painful trip to an alternate timeline 21st century Edinburgh he was actually rather proud of the fact that he'd not only managed to tell a joke to Anji who'd laughed at it, but that he'd also managed to get away before the Doctor had tried to explain mechanics of inverse multi dimensional theory to them.
All he needed was a shower, clean clothes, something to eat and being able to sleep in his own bed, Fitz told himself as he made his way rather unsteadily down the TARDISs unpredictable corridors. Once he'd got those he'd be fine.
Or not, he thought once he was naked in the shower and able, in the rather unforgivingly bright light, to see the full extent of the bruising. They'd certainly been thorough, he thought miserably, as he carefully touched the deep purple-black bruises that spread across his ribs and stomach.
He closed his eyes, knowing that his back was no better. None of him was, from the deep seated ache inside from what he hoped was bruised rather than actually damaged kidneys, via the sting of his split lips to the dull throb in places he'd rather not think about from when they'd kicked him in the groin. Most of the last one was in the joint between his left leg and his body, but not all and he felt sick at the memory of it.
Getting cleaned up hurt. The shampoo stung the cuts on his scalp and face, while the soap on the rest of him was a little better. Exhausted and sore, Fitz gave up. Flinging the wash cloth at the wall, he sank to the floor, opting to sit and let the water fall on him like tepid rain.
He might have escaped the Tower, but there was no escaping the memories. The pain of the beatings. Hands, fists, feet, batons. The fear of more beatings. The threats, all the things they'd said they'd do to him, terrible, violent, violating things. How they'd explained in detail all the ways they could him break him. How he'd confess to anything once they'd done with him. How he'd beg them to kill him before it was over. How it was only once they'd lied to him that they'd caught Anji and would do the same to her that he'd given them their false confession. How afterwards he'd been left in agony, alone and terrified in the dark, beset by cold, hunger and the humiliation of his own soiled and filthy clothes.
Perhaps if it had been aliens, something green or purple and all blobby and gross, it would have been better. Easier to rationalise anyway. But they'd all been humans. They'd not been under mind control or anything like that. Technically they been far more human than he was these days. Which was a horrible thought.
Drawing his knees up to his chest Fitz closed his eyes. He felt wretched. All of it had stirred up to many memories. How he'd been bullied at school and afterwards for nothing more than his German name. How easily he could see the world of his childhood having spiralled into that nightmare future, how he could have ended up living in such a hell.
Fitz wasn't quite sure how long he's spent in the shower, thoughts chasing around his head. The TARDIS never seemed to run out of hot water, so it hadn't been like his old flat where you only got ten minutes if you were lucky.
Unsteady on his feet, Fitz slowly got out of the shower and wrapped a towel gingerly about his waist. He'd have to walk to his room, and honestly the idea of running into Anji or the Doctor in the nude was more embarrassment than he thought he could stand, as it came complete with dreadfully humiliating possibility of him doing something like bursting into tears.
So it was just Fitz's luck that as he walked out the bathroom he almost tripped over the Doctor who'd been waiting outside.
They stared at each other for a moment. Fitz clutching the towel about his waist, too surprised to anything else. While the Doctor looked at him, pale blue eyes filled with shock and sorrow, while somewhere in their depths burnt something cold and furious. He reached out to touch one of the more vibrantly awful bruises on his collarbone. "Oh Fitz, whatever did they do to you?"
Fitz thought that it was the wobble in the Doctor's voice that got to him the most. He wanted to reply with some smart comeback to let him know that he was alright. Would be. Eventually. Hopefully. After all he always had been before. Wasn't that what he was supposed to do? Instead what came out was a small choked noise, before he started to shake, exhaustion and shock finally catching up with him.
The Doctor looked slightly panicked for a moment, then put an arm carefully around Fitz, letting him lean on him for support. "I think you'd better come with me."
Fitz's nodded and shuffled along side the Doctor, not really sure where he was going. He trusted the Doctor, so he went anyway.
Their destination turned out to be a bedroom. Not his own room, Fitz realised, the lack of mess, stale cigarette smoke and a guitar were a dead give away. No, he realised with a start, this was the Doctor's room. His bedroom.
It felt safe. The safest place in the the universe, he thought a little wildly. Not that it was, his treacherous brain supplied a moment later. The Doctor was hardly safe, he ran from one near disaster to the next, dragging those closest to him into life threatening danger without a second thought for their safety. Then at the last moment he'd manage to pull some incredible, impossible solution seemingly out of thin air, all while looking like some slightly baffled Edwardian gentleman who was desperately trying not to appear out of his depth.
The Doctor guided him to the bed, helping him sit down, hands cool and gentle on Fitz's battered skin. "Sit here, I shan't be long."
Fitz watched him take off his frockcoat and place it neatly on a chair, before rolling up his sleeves. A tremor of fear coiled in him. He closed his eyes, and pushed it down the best he could. It was stupid, the Doctor was hardly about to work him over too, but he couldn't stop himself from shaking.
The Doctor was muttering to himself as he rummaged though the contents of a battered old steamer trunk. Finally with a bright smile, he turned back to Fitz, holding up a small, green glass jar. "Knew I had some in here somewhere." He frowned then added. "Actually I'm not sure how I knew. It probably doesn't matter, does it?"
Fitz shook his head. He couldn't deal with the Doctor's amnesia right now. He really didn't think he couldn't deal with anything at all.
The Doctor brought a chair over and sat down in front of him. He touched Fitz's hand, trying to reassure him. "Will you let me help you? You do trust me, don't you?"
Fitz nodded. Of course he trusted him. Why would the Doctor even think he wouldn't? Even when he'd been scared out of his wits facing execution he'd trusted him to come and save him. Admittedly it had been Anji in the end, but the Doctor had helped organise it, so in a way it had also been him.
The contents of the jar once it was opened smelt sweet and a bit citrusy, a little like icing sugar and lemon drops, with something vaguely antiseptic hiding underneath. It tingled where the Doctor was trying his hardest to apply it as gently as possibly to his bruised and battered flesh. It made Fitz feel weak and wobbly, the kindness and care in his touch breaking down him far faster that violence had achieved. He took a shaky breath, emotions as raw and painful as his body.
The Doctor paused, fingertips barely touching the vicious boot mark on his side. "Sorry. I really am trying to be careful," he said unhappy with the idea that he was causing pain. "Should I stop?"
Fitz shook his head, mortified as wet little sob finally broke free, tears stinging as they rolled over the cut on his cheek.
Later Fitz realised that somewhere between him just about holding it together and breaking down completely the Doctor had put his arms around him and drawn him close. He'd let him cry, face pressed into the crook of his neck, tears soaking through his waistcoat and into his shirt, until finally it had passed.
Shivery and weak, Fitz decided he didn't have any energy left to be embarrassed, so he sat pliantly while the Doctor had finished applying the cream to all his injuries. Including the one hidden under the towel, the Doctor having moved the cloth just enough to apply the cream to the bruising, without revealing anything else.
The Doctor sat with him afterwards, not talking or pushing him to talk. Fitz thought it was probably just as well as he suspected they'd have both been rubbish at it. All the same it was good to have company while the cream, whatever it was, started to work.
Comfortably numb, his thoughts fuzzy round the edges, Fitz felt his eyes start to close. "Should go to bed," he mumbled, not relishing the idea of the walk back to his room.
"I should have probably mentioned that it does have a rather soporific effect on humans. But you do need to rest, so it's probably not a bad thing," the Doctor said pulling back the covers. "In you get then."
Fitz blinked owlishly, more than half asleep. It felt rather strange to be getting into the Doctor's bed, but mostly though it felt good. It was soft and warm, and he really was so very tired.
....
Fitz woke his heart beating too fast for comfort, but there was no other sense of having woken from a nightmare. He lay under the heavy covers, trying to order his jumbled thoughts. He still ached, but the worst of the pain was gone. Memories of it and of the fear he'd felt lingered, and Fitz knew it would be a while before that started to go away. Lying there in the dark, thoughts chasing round his head wasn't going to help, what he needed was a distraction.
He looked around the room. Most of it was in darkness, apart from the small lamp next to the Doctor. It surprised Fitz a little that he was still there, rather than working on something in the console room or talking to Anji. But watching him was just the distraction that he needed.
The Doctor was sitting at an ancient writing desk dismantling what appeared to an Art Deco toaster crossed with a digital alarm clock, but was probably neither. Or perhaps it had originally been both of those things and the Doctor had decided that he could combine them and make...well Fitz wasn't sure what it would make, although to be honest there was reasonable chance that the Doctor didn't actually know what he was making either.
Whatever it was it didn't seem to be progressing in the way he wanted, not if the way he kept frowning at it was anything to go by. Eventually curiosity got the better of Fitz and he asked, "So what's it gonna be?"
Startled, the Doctor looked round at him almost falling off his chair as he did so, the parts he'd been working on falling to the floor with a crash. "I didn't wake you, did I?" he asked, more worried about his companion than what he'd been working on. "I thought I was being quiet."
"You didn't, I've slept enough for now." Fitz sat up carefully, body tensed against pain that thankfully failed to materialise. Trying to sound up beat, he added, "You know that stuff you put on me really works. Wish I'd had that a few times in the past, I can tell you."
"I rather wished you hadn't," the Doctor replied. He prodded one of the clock like parts on the desk before adding a little peevishly, "I'd rather not carry around any more images of you in pain in my head. Thank you very much."
"I didn't mean it like that," Fitz said surprised and a little hurt. He'd not asked to be hurt, he'd been very against the idea in fact. And he hadn't asked the Doctor to lurk outside shower. Why had he even been there? Fitz wondered. It wasn't like him, especially not when there were dozens of potentially dangerous time and reality related things going on that were much more important than he was.
"I suppose that's alright then," the Doctor replied miserably. He picked up a couple of the parts and half heartedly tried to fit them together before sighing and putting them down again. He stared at them, rubbed his eyes and tried again, before abandoning them entirely.
There was definitely something off in how the Doctor was behaving, Fitz realised. Nothing massive worrying like he was seriously ill or had been replaced with a robot clone odd, just that he seemed out of sorts.
"I didn't ask before," Fitz said, hoping he wasn't about to make everything ten times worse. "But are you okay?"
The Doctor stared at him with looked like barely concealed fear, before hurriedly returning his attention back to his desk. "I'm quite alright, it was only the temporal distortion after all. I had it the easiest of all of us. Honestly Fitz, really should try to get some more sleep."
It wasn't convincing in the slightest. Which worried Fitz even more. Anji had mentioned something about the Doctor having been unwell while they'd tried to work out what was going on. He suspected that she'd glossed over it a bit once she'd seen the state he'd been in. She'd also mentioned that the Doctor had known Alan Turing in their own timeline, and that they'd been pretty close. Given what the alternate one had said about why he'd been in the Tower, and the look on the Doctor's face when he'd died, Fitz wondered if friends was the best description of what they'd been to each other.
Whether it had been like that or not seeing somebody you really cared about, even an alternate reality one, dying right in front of you was a pretty horrible experience. Certainly enough to make anyone, whether they were centuries old amnesiac Time Lord or not, upset.
The Doctor had helped him so much earlier, he'd be a terrible friend if he didn't at least try to return the favour, Fitz told himself. Not that he had any particularly good ideas about how to do it. Mainly because his own ideas of how to get over something generally involved drinking far too much and ending up in bed with a women he wouldn't remember the name of in the morning. He doubted the Doctor would ever go along with it. He was more of a cup of tea and a hug type of person.
Fitz considered asking the Doctor if he wanted either of those, but decided against it. He didn't want to get out of bed and find the kitchen, and the hugs between them had always been something spontaneous and joyful. He didn't think either of them could muster anything close currently.
The Doctor was still looking down at the worn surface of the desk, shoulders tense and head bowed. He looked exhausted, Fitz thought, which gave him an idea. "Do you want to come to bed?"
The Doctor looked at him shocked, but not, Fitz realised, horrified. Which was somehow so much better and so much worse all that same time. "For sleeping. I mean. It's that you...um...that I...er.....you just looked a bit tired, that all." Real smooth, Fitz chided himself. He gave the Doctor what he hoped was an encouraging smile rather than something that looked demented or terrified.
"Oh. Yes, sleeping. Of course. I mean if you don't mind," the Doctor looked faintly embarrassed by his mistake. "I don't need to sleep, but I could sleep. It might quite useful to sleep really. In fact I don't know when I'll get the chance again you see. With what's happened I'm going to be very busy. It could be too much dangerous later."
The Doctor was afraid, Fitz could tell. He always spoke too fast, getting tangled in his own words when he was. He'd been with him enough years to know that. He moved over so there was enough room for the Doctor to join him, and said, "You probably should then. Me and Anji need you...I mean for rescuing us and things. It always seems to happen sooner or later, doesn't it?"
There was a nervous, relieved little smile on the Doctor's face and he looks like he was about to speak then stopped. He tried again, then sighed, before managing a very quiet, "Thank you."
The Doctor didn't seem to have any nightwear, so after removing his waistcoat and trousers, he left his shirt on and then rather cautiously got into bed. Opting to lie as far away from Fitz as possible while doing a passable impression of a lump of wood. Which was, Fitz rapidly decided, annoying and rubbish, because neither of them was going to get any rest like that.
The hug idea came back to him, and he moved closer until he was almost spooned up against the Doctor's back. He didn't move or even acknowledge the fact Fitz had, remaining ridiculously cold and tense. It made Fitz worry that perhaps he hadn't been honest with him about his health. Without thinking, he placed a hand on the Doctor's chest, needing reassurance that the strange double beat of his hearts was still there, still strong and well.
There was small, startled intake of air and Fitz was braced for a "whatever are you doing?" when the Doctor tentatively placed his hand over Fitz's. Then, when he wasn't rejected, he curled his fingers under the edge of his companions palm.
For a moment Fitz forgot how to breath. It meant too much to put into words, so he didn't try. It was thank you, stay, I need this, this is alright, I want you here, and so many other things that neither of them were any good at saying out loud. He dipped his head, resting it against the Doctor's shoulder. In turn the Doctor gave his hand a gentle squeeze, a simple reassurance that somehow all would eventually be well.
Slowly the Doctor relaxed. Fitz wasn't entirely sure if he was sleeping, with the Doctor it could have been some mediative state, but the tension had drained from him, his skin now merely cool rather than cold. The Doctor's hand was still curled about his own, holding it in place over his hearts, his slow, even breathes tickling the hairs on Fitz's arm.
It was something almost indescribably intimate about it, yet it didn't feel sexual. It was weird, Fitz thought, because normally when he was naked and snuggled up with someone in bed it generally meant only one thing. It wasn't like they were just two blokes sharing a bed because they were too tired or drunk to find their own either. No, there was touching and holding and genuine affection between them and consequently and Fitz had absolutely no idea what to call it. Did it have a name? he wondered, brain starting to fog over with the need for sleep again. Did it even need one?
It was all a bit confusing and wonderful, rather like the Doctor himself, Fitz thought. All he knew for certain was that he liked it, he wanted it, needed it. And by the relaxed look on the Doctor's face, sleep stripping worry and tension away, so did he. Their lives were crazy, too full of danger and pain, and nowhere near enough comfort. How they were as sane as they were after all they've been through, Fitz didn't know.
Insanity however held its own special fears for Fitz, his childhood and young adult years divided into times when his mother was sane enough to care for him and those times when she hadn't, when he'd had to care for her or lean to fend for himself.
He closed his eyes and took a not quite steady breath, the Doctor's hair curling and tickling again his nose. He couldn't go there tonight, he'd got more than enough new nightmares without reviving old ones.
No, he needed to think about something he liked. Things like beer, cigarettes, his guitar, beautiful woman and sex. Okay maybe not sex. It probably wasn't the right moment to be thinking about that or things might start getting weird. Women then. That was safe enough. He liked women. He found them attractive, how they looked, how they sounded, how they felt. Even the alien ones, and there had been a few of them over the years.
The Doctor murmured something nonsensical in his sleep about needing a longer scarf, breaking Fitz's chain of thought. He looked at him in the dim light, a strange realisation dawning. That while he might love and like women sexually at end of the day he would have never let any of them see him as he'd been earlier that night, all raw emotions, scared and hurting.
No, such things were reserved for one person alone, the Doctor, his Doctor, his very best friend. Only he was allowed to see him like that, because he trusted him heart, body and soul. Neither of them would be alive without the other, they'd have been dead, or in his case stayed dead, a dozen times over. There was no possible way, Fitz thought watching him sleep peacefully beside him, that he could ever risk giving that level of trust to anybody else.
It raised rather a lot of questions about himself, questions that he wasn't really ready to ask or even look at anything like closely. One day, Fitz suspected, they would have to talk about this, and about so many other things. But not now, tonight they could take comfort in this nameless thing, and hope for a kinder, less painful tomorrow. He smiled, grateful his lips were no longer split and sore, and fell back to sleep.
Notes.
Poor Fitz really did have an awful time if it in Domino Effect (seriously in multiple chapters he beaten up in detail) Anji too, but I couldn't see her wanting to end up in bed with either Fitz or the Doctor.
In my head after Fitz falls asleep the first time the Doctor takes the rest of the cream to Anji, so she can use it to get rid of the bruises from having a building explode on her. Becuase the Doctor really does care about both of them. He goes back to Fitz because Anji wants some time alone.