Revenge (Eleventh Doctor x reader)

Synopsis: You’re the Doctor’s anchor. How could he ever let someone get away with hurting you? (request)

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DOCTOR WHO MASTERLIST|GENERAL MASTERLIST

You are brilliant. Earth-shatteringly, orbit-shakingly brilliant. Your eyes gleam with the spark of a thousand galaxies, clustered right there in the iris of your eye, and your smile makes every error, wrong turn, mishap turn into a quiet little inside joke. But not this time.

This time you aren’t smiling. There is no laugh tugging at the corner of your lips.

This time your eyes are glazed, the stars are slipping from your gaze with every leaking tear as your mind disappears into the questions of the universe. He sprints through the corridors with you clutched tightly to his chest, cursing with every panted breath.

“Doct-” You grasp at the lapels on his blazer, leaving a sticky smear of copper as your fingers fail to tighten.

He hushes you. “Don’t you go dying on me now. I’ve still got to show you Rontasil and the meteor showers.”

“I-” You stutter, tongue tripping over itself as you mumble furiously, anxious to get the words out.

“Just wait. Focus on staying awake.” The doors of the TARDIS are in sight, tauntingly close. And he’s praying at this point, murmuring to whatever god may be out there; in all his years, he doesn’t think he’s ever felt quite this desperate.

:.

You awake to a dull murmur outside and yellow lights mimicking the sun streaming through your bedroom curtains. He had known how much you missed your home, and had installed them as a means of comfort. You smile softly at the memory, hissing as you prop yourself up against the mountain of pillows.

A single shot rings out.

You scrabble at the corner of your sheets, ripping them off with an urgency that has the TARDIS wailing in protest. Red lights flash as you drag yourself to the exit, knowing you have to save him. He’s out there alone. And you have to protect him.

You’re beaten there though. Before you can even make it through the console room entryway, he’s bursting through the doors, hair on end, bowtie crooked, and covered in dust.

“Oh, no, no, no.” He wags a finger at you, frown creasing his brow as he catches sight of the way crimson is seeping through your bandages. “What are you doing out of bed? Do you humans really have such little self-preservation instincts?”

“What happened?” You’re running your gaze over him, fingers wrapping around the lapel of his blazer as your vision tints with black spots.

“What do you mean what happened?” He’s too cheery, eyes too bright as everything swims. “Come on, you can hardly stand. Let’s get you back in bed.”

You accept the arm he offers you, relinquishing your grip on his blazer and wiping away the dirt on your hands. You glance at your hands again, a sinking sensation filling your chest as the skin proves tinted green.

“Hey Doc, tell me about the things out there. What were they?”

“The Kaleds. Believed to be the ancestors of the Daleks. Usually a little more peaceful. But they won’t be bothering us anymore.” His face hardens, lips pressed into a stiff line as he steers you into your bed. Brushing off the expression with so much enthusiasm you think you imagined it, he tucks the sheets around you. “Get some rest. You’ll need it to heal.”

“Doctor,” your voice wobbles, “what did you do to them?”

He rushes to your side, crouching down and grabbing your hands with a desperation that betrays his actions. “Listen, you have to listen to me-”

“No.” You pull yourself away from him, flinching at the heart-breaking betrayal in his eyes. “Tell me straight.”

“I did what I had to.”

You shake your head. “You murdered an entire shipful of people who were just trying to flee a war. They were refugees, Doctor.”

“Theyhurt you!” He throws his hands in the air, voice rising as he searches for some sort of understanding in your eyes. Something to show that he hadn’t lost you now, after all of this. They glisten, no longer with the innocence of stars, but with the burden of tears and the realisation that he was not a good man.

“Doctor,” your voice is soft, your eyes are downcast. He knows what comes next. “Oh, Doctor. I understand.”

And he swears he feels his hearts stutter and stop. He sneaks a peek at you, seeking solace in the sigh that escapes your lips. You brush back a strand of hair that flops over his face, that look on your face back again. He hadn’t understood it before, but he thinks he gets it now.

“I can’t lose you. I need you.”

You sniffle, fixing him a watery smile as you choke back your tears with a soft chuckle. “You need me?”

“Of course I do.”

And he thinks you get it too.

Or at least the kiss you give him lets him know that you understand.

:.

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