Pathological Paradox; A Doctor Who fic

Synopsys; The Eleventh Doctor is terribly ill, and no one can figure out why. Except, perhaps, for himself.

Rating; PG-13 for cussing and possible potential snogging in later chapters. I dunno, it's only the first chapter, I haven't quite gotten that far yet.

Pairings; Amy/Rory, Ten/Eleven.

Warnings; As you've probably figured out from the thing right above this, this is a slash fic, and if you don't like it, I suggest you piss off rather than waste your time flaming me. All flames are pushed off the cliff and used to make me just that bit more deadly, so don't bother.
However, I've written this fic in a way that you should be able to enjoy it no matter what your favorite pairing is, so keep that in mind as well.
I've no idea where this fic came from, only have the faintest semblance of where it's going, and have no idea when I'll be updating it, so don't bug me about it.

UPDATE 9/9/12; The forum move has de-formatted the fic, I know. I'm working on fixing it right now, but it's slow going. It's still readable, so just sit tight.

CHAPTER 1

Spoiler

All was quiet, in the blue police box hurtling through space. Not really something you'd hear every day, but there we are. The machine, the TARDIS, was unique in and of itself, in that it was the last one in existence, so you'd expect it to have an interesting statement to describe it.

Then again, the box wasn't so much hurtling as it was drifting. The crew had had a long, hard day, exhausted, and unfit to really decide where to head next, so the captain had sent them to bed.

Of course, the Doctor, the Eleventh Doctor to be precise, wasn't really a captain so much as the guy who owned the TARDIS, as well as the only one who could work it. And the crew wasn't so much a crew as a girl and her husband. But that wasn't the point.

The Doctor had sent Amelia Pond and her husband, Rory, off to bed when they had reached the vessel. Indeed, Rory had nearly fallen down the stairs and had to be helped by Amy, he was so exhausted. Amy had tried to insist the Doctor go to bed too, but he had, by some miracle, managed to convince her that he needed to monitor the TARDIS controls. So while his companions slept, the good Doctor sat awake at the control screens, watching for something, anything.

Not to say he wasn't tired too; in fact, he himself felt like he was on the verge of passing out. Being a Time Lord had its benefits, but it didn't mean he was completely immune from such mundane things. But it was true what he had told Amy, that there should be someone monitoring the controls when they were in space like this, despite merely floating about like this. He couldn't go to bed, not just yet. He had work to do.

He fell onto the chair situated beside the control panel, leaning back, taking a quick break. God, he was tired... No. No sleep yet. Just a few more hours, then sleep.

Maybe a cup of tea would help. Yea, a good cup of tea and some Jammie Dodgers. The perfect snack to keep him focused. The Doctor rose from his seat and set off in search of the food. He wasn't even sure they had any Jammie Dodgers, but there wasn't any harm in looking.

Half an hour later saw the man back in his seat, a steaming cup of tea in his hand, and the very last package of his favorite biscuits in his lap. He'd have to remind Rory to buy more, next time he had the chance.

The Doctor gave a large yawn, the tea nearly gone, Jammie Dodgers long emptied from their wrapper. Maybe the tea hadn't been the best idea after all... It just served to make him sleepier. How odd... tea didn't usually make him sleepy, did it? He couldn't remember.

Before he could process his next thoughts, they had faded into blurs in his head as his head slumped down, the cup dropping from his fingers to clang to the floor. The Doctor, fast asleep in his chair, knew no more as he was drawn once again into his restless dreams.

~

In another time, or perhaps a different part of space, or maybe it was the same space, or the same time (there was really no way to tell), the Tenth Doctor stood ready at the controls of his TARDIS, contemplating what to do. He was alone right now, the entire ship to himself. The last of his companions had left him, left him to explore the galaxies and universes by himself.

He had quite forgotten how boring it was by himself.

He could go find another companion, he supposed, but what was the point, really? They all left him in the end, didn't they? Not that that would stop them. It was like he was magnetic or something, attracting all these people from different places and times. He'd probably get his heart broken another billion times before he actually died for real.

He shook his head. No need to keep thinking on this. Nope, now was the time to decide what he was going to do next.

What was he going to do next, again?

He had had some idea, and then another idea, and a bunch of other ideas, and now he just couldn't remember. Ancient Italy, maybe? Or that one planet with all the water where everyone lived on boats. No, actually, that one wasn't a good idea, he might land the TARDIS on the bottom of the ocean or something, and then he'd be pretty screwed over.

As he thought on his options, eyes glued to the screen, a familiar sound filled the control room. A very familiar sound. But... that was impossible. The TARDIS couldn't be moving, he hadn't pressed anything, had he? Or had some wacko from a doomed planet summoned him to save the day once again?

...Wait a second. That couldn't be the TARDIS because none of the parts were shaking or moving or blinking. Everything was still. So what the hell was going on?

Or was it... No. No, it couldn't be. There couldn't be another TARDIS here. He was floating through space, for petes sake! And there were no other TARDISes that even existed, for that matter. So... what was it?

The Doctor looked all around the room, under the stairs, and even out the windows on the TARDIS doors, not that he was really expecting anything out there, but didn't see a thing. The noise had stopped by now, and he scratched his head in confusion. It couldn't have been nothing.

He tentatively headed back to the controls to scan the rest of the ship when there was a loud thump from up the stairs. He furrowed his brow and took out his sonic screwdriver, just in case, and headed slowly up the stairs and into the hall.

"So where are we now?"

"How the hell should I know, Rory?!"

...They sounded lost, whoever they were. Were they there by accident?

"...Looks like the inside of the TARDIS. Except different. Like someone redecorated it or something," the one called Rory said.

"Or like that whole... time space paradox thing that happened. When you broke that thing," said the other, this one a woman.

"When the TARDIS was inside itself?"

"Yea."

...Okay, they weren't ordinary. Definitely not. They were talking about the TARDIS, and paradoxes. They weren.t any companions of his, he'd never had any friends that bickered like an old married couple. So who were they?

The Doctor crept closer toward the room the voices were coming from. The wardrobe. Who in their right mind would hang out in a wardrobe, despite it being massive.

"...At any rate, we should be careful," came the woman's voice again. "We don't know if this is some alternate TARDIS or something, or if there's something out there, or whatever."

"Oh, there's something out here, alright," the Doctor said, entering the wardrobe. "And he's wondering how you got in his ship."

The first thing the Doctor noticed upon opening the doors was that his TARDIS was sitting to the side of the room. But, not his TARDIS. They were already inside the TARDIS, weren't they? But there was only one TARDIS left in the universe! And who else in their right mind would leave their TARDIS shaped as a 60's police box? That was his gimmick, damn it!

"Who're you?" the woman asked, red hair falling in her face.

"I'm the Doctor. But I think the better questions are, who are you, why do you have a replica of my TARDIS, how did you get here in the first place, and why is your friend sitting on the floor?"

And indeed, Rory was sitting on the floor, having apparently fallen at the shock of the Doctor entering the room.

The girl;s eyes widened. "You're not the Doctor. You look nothing like him!" she said, ignoring the questions.

The Doctor rolled his eyes. "Of course I'm the Doctor! There's only one Doctor in the universe, and I'm pretty sure I'm him!"

"You can't be the Doctor because the Doctor's in the TARDIS!"

"We are in the TARDIS, you bloody twat! What else do you think all this," he gestured, "Is from? The worlds largest thrift shop?"

"You can't be the Doctor because the Doctor is terribly ill!" she finally shouted in frustration.

The Doctor stopped. "Wait, what?"

The girl glared at him. Rory rose from his spot on the ground and put a hand on her shoulder. "Maybe we should tell him, Amy. He seems like a nice enough bloke, and we did come to get help..."

"No! He's obviously deranged, thinking he's the Doctor."

The man in question thought for a moment. There was another TARDIS inside his own TARDIS. These two clearly knew someone called the Doctor, who was not him, and he didn't know these two. Slowly but surely, he put two and two together.

His eyes widened. "Oh dear."

"Oh dear what?" the girl called Amy asked sharply.

"You two... you can't be here. This," he gestured to the TARDIS,"This can't be here! We're breaking the fabric of reality or something! There cannot, absolutely cannot be two TARDISes in the same place at the same time, and there most definitely cannot be two Doctors in the same place at the same time! And you two." He walked closer, causing the two to back up a bit. "You two shouldn't be here because I shouldn't have met you yet. I think."

"What the hell are you on about, mate?!" Amy shouted.

"You two shouldn't be here, because I'm the Doctor. I'm the Doctor before I regenerate and meet you."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean? I already told you, you don't look at all like him!"

The Doctor sighed. "I am a Time Lord. When a Time Lord's body dies, we have the ability to regenerate with a new body and a few personality differences. That convince you?"

They were both silent.

"Right then! 'Scuse me, I'm just gonna take a peek at my future selve's TARDIS and see how far into my future you two are and see how much the timeline's been screwed up."

He turned and opened the doors to the future TARDIS, stepping inside, Amy and Rory following.

"Hm, not as different as you two made it out to be." The Doctor stepped up to the control panel and started typing away.

"You... You're the Doctor?" Amy asked, tentatively stepping closer.

"That's what I said, isn't it?" he replied, not taking his eyes off the screen. "Ah, there we go! Well, it's better than I thought, your Doctor is my next regeneration."

He spun to face the two humans. "Right, now I'm not supposed to know you two yet, but it seems there's something going on here. First things first, I'm the Doctor, as you already know. By the looks on your faces I can tell you don't believe me, so let me explain that a bit more. I am the tenth incarnation of a Time Lord known as the Doctor, and I've taken from what you've said so far that my eleventh incarnation is ill somewhere around here. We are essentially the same person with different faces and personalities but all the same memories. Now, you two look fairly intelligent, so I hope you got all that because I'm not repeating it.

"Now, I'm assuming that you two are traveling with Eleven at the moment. Amy and Rory, was it? Nice to meet you, now tell me exactly what's happened aboard the TARDIS to bring us all up to speed on how on earth you managed to park your version of the TARDIS inside my TARDIS's wardrobe."

"Um..."

"Come on, quickly now!"

Amy pushed Rory into the chair beside the console and took control. "Well, when we woke up this morning, at least I think it was morning, I came down the stairs there to find the Doctor - our Doctor, obviously - asleep in the chair." She gestured. "He'd been up all night, monitoring the controls or something like that, so I figured it was perfectly reasonable for him to be tired after the day we had yesterday.

"I went to wake him up and send him to a proper bed, because you're not supposed to sleep in chairs, it's bad for you, but he wouldn't wake up. I shook him, yelled, all that, but nothing. Got Rory to carry him up to bed, and found he had a bloody fever, too. What's worse, we were drifting through space! Nowhere we could go to get help, and even if we could, we couldn't exactly take him to a hospital, could we?

"So Mister Smarticles over here decided it would be a good idea to try and fly the TARDIS himself, even though he's got no proper knowledge of the damn thing."

"Hey, I did a good job!" Rory said indignantly.

"You pressed a bunch of buttons until something happened! I wouldn't call that a good job, I'd call that getting lucky.

"Anyway, all that button pressing apparently landed us in the past version of the TARDIS. And... that's it."

Ten was silent for a moment. "...That's it, huh? Well, sorry to shatter your hopes but I'm afraid that's far from it." He thought on Amy's words. "What are his symptoms?"

"Uh, just, you know, flu symptoms. Fever, sweating, exhaustion, that sort of thing..." Rory said. "Although you guys aren't human, so..."
The Doctor nodded. "Hm. Sounds like it could be something similar to the flu... Or it could be something else. Do you know if he's contagious?"

"I don't think so, but there's really no way to tell. Not like there's much in the way of medical equipment on board."

Ten looked at Rory. "Rory, are you a medical student or something along those lines?"

"Er, I'm a nurse... Why?"

"Oh, no reason, just that there's a sick man on board and you actually seemed to know what you were talking about there for a minute." Ten turned toward the stairs. "C'mon, you lot. It's obvious we're not going to be able to fix all this timey-wimey nonsense until we fix up my counterpart good as new."

They headed up towards the collection of bedrooms, the door slightly ajar on the room they needed. Ten pushed the door open the rest of the way and peeked inside, taking out his glasses and placing them on his face.

The lights inside were nonexistent, making it difficult to make out the features of the room. From what Ten could tell, it looked nearly identical to how he kept his own bedroom, so at least that much hadn't changed. The one key difference he could make out, though, was the lump under the blankets on the bed.

Ten crept closer, knowing this was taboo, to get a closer look at the person he would soon become.

Eleven seemed worse for wear, much worse than Rory or Amy had described. His hair was slicked back with sweat, and his face flushed with heat. Someone (probably Rory) had placed a cloth on his forehead, but the cold had long since disappeared from it. Ten carefully knelt beside him and slowly removed the now-useless compress, placing it on the bedside table. Even without touching the other, he could feel the warmth radiating off Eleven.

"He's gotten worse." Rory said quietly, coming closer to kneel beside the two Doctors. "Earlier he was only a little warm, but now..."

Ten was silent for a moment, then began speaking quickly but softly. "It started this morning, you said? Was there anything odd that happened last night? Anything odd when you found him this morning?"

Rory shook his head.

"Amy?"

"Not that I could tell..."

"Hm..."

"Can you help him?"

Ten turned to look at Amy. "Can I help him? That's a stupid thing to ask, of course I can help him. The question is, how can I help him, and can I do it before things get worse..."

He stood, taking one last look at himself. "Right, we can't do much floating in space like this. I'll pilot my TARDIS back to London so we can get some decent supplies, because I don't have much, and knowing myself like I do, you lot probably don't have much either. Amy, you go back down to the controls of this TARDIS and make sure nothing odd happens. Rory, you stay here and do... nurse-y things. Try to get his fever down, stuff like that."

Not stopping to make sure they did as they were told, Ten took off his glasses and hurried back through to the wardrobe, then down to the controls of his own TARDIS.

"EVERYONE READY?" he bellowed. "ALLON-Z!"

~

The Tenth Doctor's TARDIS landed in a back-alley of London, 2010. Close enough to shops that they could get there quickly, but out of the way so they wouldn't be noticed.

Amy's head appeared at the top of the staircase. "Doctor, when are we?"

"2010. Figured it'd be a good place to land us that we wouldn't get in any trouble. Everything good up there?"

She stepped out onto the landing. "Yea, everything"s fine from what I can tell, but..."

"But?"

"Well, wouldn't it make more sense to take us further into the future than this? More advanced medical techniques and electronics?"

"Nope, but I can see why you think that," the Doctor said, spinning to face her. "No, no, 2010 is perfect. Know why? Because, too far into the future, and the Time Lord anatomy differs too much from human anatomy for human cures to have any sort of effect. Too far in the past, and medical techniques aren't advanced enough yet.

"Like I said, 2010; perfect, especially seeing as we're not entirely sure what my dear eleventh incarnation has come down with yet. Speaking of which, have you checked on him since we landed?"

"No, but Rory says he's fine. Or, er, not worse, I suppose."

"Good, wonderful even. I was kinda afraid something might happen while the TARDIS was working, but apparently not, so hurray, let's move on," he grinned.

"Wait, you thought something might happen?"

"Well... yea. But, you know, just the usual stuff, lost in space, temporal sickness, hairloss. Nothing serious."

"Yea, because getting lost in space isn't serious at all."

"Well it's not like I would've left you there! Might've taken me a while to find you again, but..."

"Just... just get to the point, yea?"

"Oh! Oh right, of course." The Doctor began going around the room, occasionally entering other rooms, collecting a manner of different things. "Right, now I want you and Rory to head to one of the stores down the street there and pick up a few things. Hold on, I'll write you a list..."

With one arm, he extracted from his pile of stuff a piece of paper and pencil, quickly jotting down some things and handing it to Amy.

..."Celery and/or tea?"

"Yup. Now find Rory and go, it's really very important that I have those things."

"You'll take care of the Doctor, right?"

"'Course I will, what kinda guy do you take me for? I don't hate myself that much, mate," the Doctor laughed.

Amy gazed at him for a long moment, then turned to get Rory from presumably Eleven's room. As the doors that led out to the London streets closed behind them, Ten gave a loud sigh. What a day this had turned out to be. Then again, he couldn't remember the last day he had gotten to just relax. The trials of being the Doctor, he supposed.

Having gathered what he thought he'd need, the Doctor headed back upstairs, through the wardrobe, and into the second TARDIS. He dropped everything unceramoniously in the middle of the control room, wincing at the noise, then deciding everything was fine. He hoped. Time to check on Eleven, at any rate. Couldn't be too careful...

The door creaked slightly when he pushed it open for the second time. It was still dark, and the air was still heavy as Ten crept closer to Eleven, trying not to wake the other. He hadn't moved since Ten had seen him last, the only difference being that Rory had replaced the cloth on his forehead, cold once again.

The younger Doctor knelt beside the elder in the same manner as he had earlier, slowly, carefully, almost afraid. It wasn't that he hadn't met other selves before, but that was so long ago, under different circumstances, when he himself had been someone else. He wasn't sure if they had torn another hole in the universe just by being in the same room, or if nothing would happen even if they started snogging or something. It was a frightening thought.

...Wait, what?

Before that train of thought could crash and burn, Eleven gave a pitiful moan, shifting slightly, the cloth falling. It was almost heartbreaking, seeing someone so alone in his own mind. Ten tenderly reached out, hesitating for a moment before replacing the compress in it's proper place, and resting his hand on top. He was reluctant to invoke skin-to-skin contact, unknowing of the possible consequences, but he couldn't stand leaving someone in pain like that.

"You have those dreams too, don't you?" he whispered. "It still hurts for you, doesn't it? All those memories.

"'S okay. I'm here too now."

"...Should I leave you two alone?" Amy giggled from the door.

Ten stood quickly at the voice, removing his hand from Eleven's forehead and turning to face Amy, all in one swift motion. "That was the quickest shopping trip I've ever seen."

"The corner market had everything on the list. Even fresh celery. How is he?"

"'Bout the same. Should probably get to work figuring out what he's got."

"Is that what all that stuff you dumped in the control room is for?" Amy asked.

"Yup. Don't worry, I'll go down and sort it all out in a mo', but first, lemme see the celery," he said, crossing the room toward her.

She reached into one of the bags and pulled out a sprig, handing it to Ten. "What’s this for, again?"

"Tell you later. For now, go brew up some tea and bring it here, quick as you can. Where's Rory?"

"He went to a different shop to see if he could find some aspirin or something. He thought it might help."

"Hm. I probably not, but I guess the thought's nice. Now go on, brew the tea." He ushered her out of the room and turned back to Eleven. "Now, let's see if we can't fix you up..."

~

Amy soon returned with a steaming mug of tea. She set it on the bedside table and turned to Ten, who was once again kneeling beside Eleven. "Alright then, Doctor, care to tell me what all this is about?"

The man glanced at her, but almost immediately averted the attention back to his counterpart. "Celery works like smelling salts for Time Lords. Don't ask me why, because I haven.t the foggiest, but it does."

"And the tea?"

"Same thing. Also he can drink the tea when he wakes up."

"Well then why did you need both?"

"I didn't say I needed both, did I? I wrote and-slash-or, which generally implies that I only need one or the other," he said.

She sighed. "Just... get on with it."

"Gladly."

Ten fiddled with the celery for a moment before holding it gently beneath Eleven's nose, wiggling it about a bit as though it helped. It took a moment to take effect, but sure enough the elder man gave a light groan and slowly opened his eyes.

Ten gingerly put an arm about his shoulders, careful not to make skin contact, and helped him to sit up a bit. "Hey. You feeling any better?"

Eleven turned his head slightly to get a better look at Ten, and his eyes widened. He opened his mouth to speak, but instead turned his head and coughed violently into his arm. When the fit had passed, he turned back to himself and managed to croak out, "You... how are you here?"

"Not a clue. How are you feeling?"

"...Terrible, to be quite honest. What's..." He stopped to cough, "What's going on?"

"You're ill, Doctor," Amy said, coming over to sit on the edge of the bed. "You've been asleep all day."

"Ill? I shouldn't be ill, what would I be ill from?"

"That's what I'm here to find out, mate," Ten said. "Here, have some tea."

"Thanks," Eleven said softly, shakily reaching for the mug. "...You do know we're probably breaking the universe just by interacting, right?"

"Yup. But, nothing so far, and I can't do anything about it anyway, so best not to worry about it for the moment."

Eleven sipped at the tea, thinking it over.

"So tell me, what's the last thing you remember before falling asleep?" Ten asked.

"Hm. I'm not quite sure, I was dozing already... Let me see, I was working on the TARDIS controls a bit, and then... I had some tea and Jammie Dodgers-" He cut off there with another coughing fit, Amy taking the mug from his hands to prevent a spill.

"That's it?"

"That's it. I must've fallen asleep not long after. Actually..." He stopped again, coughing. "How... How did you..."

"Hey, hey, calm down, you're gonna make yourself worse," Ten said, helping Eleven lay back down. "Listen, just go back to sleep. We'll take care of everything, I promise."

The elder looked at him for a long moment, then smiled slightly. "I suppose if you can't trust yourself..." he rasped.

"Yea," Ten nodded. He took the cool cloth off the bedside table and replaced it on Eleven's forehead. "Back to sleep, then. You'll feel better when you come around again."

Eleven obliged, closing his eyes, asleep again almost instantly. Slowly, Ten rose from his position and led Amy back out into the hall, gently closing the door behind them.

"What was that all about, then? You woke him up so you could send him back to sleep again?" Amy said in a hushed voice.

"There were two very important reasons why I did that," the Doctor replied, spinning and heading back toward the control room. "One, I wanted to make sure he still had the ability to wake up. Didn't know whether or not whatever he's got would keep him under. Also it proved that he's still got some semblance of wits about him, so we haven't lost him completely, which is good. Very good. Means we have more time in which to figure out what exactly he's got."

"And the second reason?"

He halted at the top of the stairs, turning around to face her. "The second reason, Amy, is that I now know that my counterpart was working on the TARDIS. The TARDIS, one of the most unstable things in the universe."

 

Dear god, I'm loving this thing. The notion of Rory flying the TARDIS in itself nearly threw me into a fit of laughter. I also enjoy how you wrote this, as it stays incredibly true to the series. I can't wait for the next update, so you'd better get writing.

Oh, and I just have to add this: thank you for giving me a chance to see Ten in action again.

 

Oh, yay! A decently written Doctor fic for a change! :D Brilliant! I love the interactions, the characters, how you're staying true to their personalities and everything. It's a wonderful chance to see Ten and Eleven--my personal two favorite Doctors--interact like this. :D Can't wait to read more.

 

Warning; I have no idea what the hell I'm doing. At all.

CHAPTER 2

Spoiler

“The second reason, Amy, is that I now know that my counterpart was working on the TARDIS. The TARDIS, one of the most unstable things in the universe.”

Amy stared at him for a long moment. “So, what, he caught something from working on the TARDIS?”

The Doctor turned back toward the stairs and headed down. “That’s what I’m saying.”

“But… that doesn’t make any sense. He’s worked on the TARDIS millions of times before! You have too, I bet,” Amy said, following him slowly.

“Yup. The TARDIS is a funny old thing like that. And if it does end up being that case, then it probably had a reason.”

Amy sputtered. “A reason? What reason could the TARDIS possibly have for making the Doctor so ill?!”

“And that’s the question, isn’t it?” Ten replied as he began digging through the pile of things on the floor of the control room. “We have no idea how or why he’s ill, and only an inkling of what he’s got and how to treat it, which means that that is what we’ve got to find out. Ah, here we go!”

From the pile, the Doctor extracted what looked to be some sort of old-fashioned laptop. He set it to the side and began digging again.

“What’s all that for, then?”

“Don’t care to take a guess? I think it should be obvious. It’s a bunch of stuff I’m gonna use to help.”

“Well thank you for stating the obvious, but why does it actually do?”

“Well, right now I’m looking for the wires to plug into the TARDIS, so I can hook into the core, see what’s going on in there, make sure it’s not some weird disease that could kill us all, that sort of thing. And really, where has Rory gone, it’s been ages.”

Amy sighed. “I suppose I’ll go look for him. Make sure he’s not lost or something. Not like I’m much help around here anyway at the moment…”

“Right, right, you go on and do that, I’ll stay here and do… this.”

Amy left the TARDISes once again for the London streets, leaving Ten on his own once again. He finally managed to pull out a pair of wires from deep within the pile, instantly grabbing for the old laptop and plugging it the ends in. He dropped the other ends through a gap in the floor, specifically made for such a reason, and was just heading down to plug the rest of the bits in properly when he heard a moan.

He stopped, halfway down the stairs, looking up and around for the source of the noise. It had been quiet, nearly inaudible, and in fact, he probably wouldn’t have heard it at all if it wasn’t so unusually void of sound in here.

It took him a moment, to figure out what on earth the noise was. He was alone, wasn’t he?

But no. No he wasn’t.

The Doctor turned on heel and raced back up the stairs, nearly falling in his haste, then up the second set and into the hallway. Here, he slowed himself, taking a deep, calming breath, just in case it was his imagination, and quickly but soundlessly opened the door.

Eleven was sprawled on the bed, blankets on the floor from thrashing about in his sleep, audibly gasping for breath. Ten rushed to his side, wondering how he had somehow gotten twice as bad in the fifteen minutes it had been since he’d been up here. The elder’s skin had become impossibly hot, hot enough that any human would be dead, his chest heaving with the effort to keep breathing, and in that moment Ten knew, somehow, he just knew that this disease was deadly.

If they didn’t do something, anything, soon, the Eleventh Doctor would be dead before the next day.

Ten was scared. Scared for himself, but not as he was now. He was scared for this man, who he would soon become, and how he would be defeated by such a simple thing as a disease. Would he too befall this fate, if he was to become this man? That was how the universe worked, wasn’t it?

And in the next moment Ten also knew, he couldn’t let that happen. He refused to let him die, not if there was anything he could possibly do about it.

And he could. He completely could. It was a mad idea, maddest he’d had in a while, and that was saying something. It could tear the universe apart. Could he risk that? Could he risk everything for himself? Was it considered selfish, if it was himself, but not himself at all?

But he had to. Eleven was clearly in pain, getting worse by the second, and he couldn’t just sit here and do nothing while he lay dying. Ten had lost so many people already, so many friends and enemies and loves, and he refused to let that happen again.

His mind made up, the younger Doctor hesitatingly reached out to brush his hand against Eleven’s flushed cheek, their flesh touching for the first time. To Ten’s great surprise – and relief – nothing happened. Not a spark or a flash, the TARDIS didn’t suddenly go out of control, the universe didn’t implode, nothing.

He sighed, letting out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. What had he been so worried about again?

Now armed with the knowledge that he could touch his counterpart, Ten gently pushed stray strands from Eleven’s face, placing the back of his hand against his forehead. While he was no thermometer, he could tell the elder was much, much too warm. If he had to give an estimate, he’d have to say the other’s body temperature sat somewhere around 42 degrees.

Next, Ten moved his hands down to Eleven’s chest. He could feel the other’s lungs rattling with effort beneath the skin. One hand moved on top of one of Eleven’s hearts. There it was, beating strongly, if slightly quickly. Okay, good, check.

The hand moved to the other side of the chest. He held it there, longer and longer, but nothing. Eleven’s second heart had stopped beating.

Ten bit his lip. That only happened in life threatening situations. Which this was, he supposed.

He moved his hands back up, both of them, to rest his fingers on the elder’s temples, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. He was hot, so very, very hot to the touch, and Ten was afraid for a moment that the heat would burn through his hands and into his own body.

He hesitated. Would this even be worth it? Would this actually help?

Only one way to find out, he thought.

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

Carefully, Ten leaned down and pressed his forehead against Eleven’s, closing his eyes, and opened the doors.

~

When Amy had exited the TARDIS for the second time that day, she had expected to find her husband rather quickly. Probably just down the street, distracted by something or another on his way back from the shop.

She subconsciously rolled her eyes at the thought, almost wondering why she’d married him.

When she had looked all over the local area and found not a trace, though, then she began to get a little worried. Scratch that, a lot worried. Rory wouldn’t go far without telling them, not when they might need him.

The girl began searching high and low for her missing man, but it seemed there was not a trace to be found. Maybe she should consider putting him on a lead…

As she passed by an alley between two shops, Amy heard some sort of scuffle inside. Curiosity getting the best of her, she stepped backwards a few paces and peered inside to find, down the way a bit, the back of Rory’s shirt, his bag flung to the side and spilling open, the man himself facing an unknown figure at the other end of the lane.

“…Rory? What’re you-?”

“Amy!” Rory exclaimed happily, turning to face her, clearly relieved that he was no longer alone. “This guy, he… I dunno, he just… attacked me, while I was on my way back from the shop!”

Amy was instantly by his side. “Are you alright?”

“Yea, I’m fine, but this guy, he… took a bunch of stuff from my bag.”

“A thief?”

“I don’t think so…”

“I can hear you, you know,” the figure called out from the other end of the alleyway. “It’s a bit rude to talk about a person like they’re not there.”

“Who are you?” Amy shouted. “What do you want?”

The man laughed. “I already have what I want. From you two, anyway. So why don’t you scamper on home to your precious Doctor?

“As for who I am, why don’t you ask your husband? He’s been chasing me for the better part of twenty minutes, after all. Or better yet, ask the Doctor. I’m sure he’d love to have a nice chat about little old me.”

He laughed again, before spinning around, scaling the mesh fence at the end of the alley with the speed of a monkey, and running around the corner.

Amy went to chase after him, but Rory held her back. “You’ll never catch him. It’s like he said, I’ve been chasing him for nearly twenty minutes. I couldn’t even get near him. It’s like he wanted me to chase him…”

“Who was he, Rory? How did he know about the Doctor?”

“I dunno. All he said was his name was the Master.”

~

It was hot. So hot, it felt like a sauna… Like he’d been locked in a broken sauna, and he didn’t have a sonic screwdriver to let himself out.
Eleven attempted open his eyes, to move, to do something, anything, but his limbs felt like they had become detached and no longer worked. Everything in his mind was a jumble of color and time, and he couldn’t make sense of any of it.

Was he dead? Was this what happened when he regenerated, and his subconscious moved over to make way for a new one?

No, said a familiar voice, no you’re not dead.

No, he agreed. I’d have remembered something like that, right?

It certainly did feel like it, though. It was hot, so terribly, terribly hot, it burned through his skin and made him want to scream, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t open up his mouth, and even if he could, his throat was so dry and scratchy… Would he even be able to make a sound?

Vaguely, he heard voices surrounding him. They were gentle and soothing, but they were far away, and he couldn’t make out the individual words. One was clearly Scottish…

Was it Amy? Was his Pond here? He wanted to call out for her, make sure it was her, but his mouth wouldn’t obey.

Then, as though in the blink of an eye, though perhaps it had been hours, the voices stopped, and there was no one there. He was alone again. Completely alone.

He was alone, and he wasn’t sure why but the thought made him want to cry. But it was nothing new, was it? Being alone. He’d been alone for most of his life. Sure his companions made his life brighter, happier, but they always left in the end. Even Susan. Even Rose.

So why did he feel like both his hearts had dropped into his stomach?

Eleven unintentionally cried out at the pain in his chest, at the splitting headache he had, at how hot it was.

And then, in another moment, there was a comforting presence beside him, so familiar, so close. There was something about it, something he couldn’t place, and he couldn’t tell why but he felt so… safe.

Safe. He hadn’t felt safe in so long, lifetimes ago, and it felt foreign to him.

And then the presence was everywhere, invading his thoughts, feeling the same pain as him. Normally he would fight back. No one should ever see the things he’d seen, the things he’d done. But everything hurt so much, he had no strength left, his limbs wouldn’t respond. And it still felt so safe, despite being an intrusion to his own mind.

But no, no, he couldn’t give up! He weakly attempted to lash out at the presence, willing it to get away, get out of his head, stop reading his thoughts, keep away from those memories.

It easily resisted his pushes, surrounding him, and Eleven suddenly understood why it made him feel so safe, why it had gotten into his head so easily. He remembered who had been talking to Pond.

It was himself. His Tenth regeneration had come to save the Eleventh.

He dropped his defenses, so terribly difficult to keep up under so much strain, letting himself do as he pleased.

If you can’t trust yourself, who can you trust? he reasoned.

It’s okay, Ten said to his mind. I’m here.

It’s terribly hot, Eleven replied. Why is that?

Don’t worry about it, Ten said. I’ll fix it, I promise.

Eleven nodded, in his mind, letting himself drift away, too tired to keep up any rational thought anymore. He could trust himself. He was safe.

~

Ten pulled away from Eleven, taking a deep breath, trying to make sense of everything he had seen. It had been confusing, his counterpart’s mind addled from the illness, making it hard to determine anything sensible.

He sat there for a moment, letting it all sink in. The other had so much going on in his mind, and was unable to concentrate any of it, leading to a jumble of thoughts and words and emotions that Ten had had to dig through, and he had been relieved that Eleven had let him do so without much of a fight.

Why wouldn’t he, though? He we himself, after all.

But was it just him, or had the other Time Lord seemed… lonely? Or empty? Moreso than himself.

Ten had already known he was lonely by himself. Madame du Pompadour had essentially told him as such, and he was used to it anyway. But Eleven had seemed… worse off, somehow. Perhaps it was a trick of the illness.

Physically, Eleven seemed to have calmed a bit, and he wasn’t sure whether that was good or bad. Ten carefully smoothed the damp hair away from his face, wondering, wondering. While he had found out some things, locked away in the other’s mind, things he probably shouldn’t know yet, he wasn’t sure if they would help or not, and he was doubting whether it had been worth the look.

It hadn’t wrecked the universe, at least, so that was a plus.

The younger Doctor retrieved the cloth from the floor, where it had fallen, taking it to rinse in cold water before replacing it on the elder’s forehead, hoping it would cool the other a bit. He still remembered Eleven’s voice, in his head, pitifully asking why it was so hot, and Ten had felt so terrible for him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered again. “So, so sorry.”

He pulled a thin blanket up from the end of the bed to cover the other with, and, lingering for a moment, stood and headed back to the control room, closing the door gently behind him. He had a lot of work to do, if he was going to get to curing Eleven.

Oh, the trials of being the Doctor.

~

The Tenth Doctor had retreated to the floor of the control room, tip-tapping away at the laptop-like machine. The numbers that flew across the screen flashed across the lenses of his glasses, eyes following every movement.

“This doesn’t make any sense…” he murmured to the TARDIS. “What is it you’re trying to tell me?”

“Doctor!” Amy’s voice came, from out in Ten’s TARDIS. The doors to Eleven’s TARDIS flung open, and Amy and Rory barreled in at top speed.

The Doctor pushed the laptop to the side and lept to his feet. “What is it, what’s wrong?”

They both stopped for breath, Rory practically doubled over. “There… guy… chase… Master…” he panted.

Ten stopped. “…What did you just say?”

Amy, recovering first, pushed her husband into a spare chair. “Rory was attacked on his way back from the shop. The guy stole some stuff from his bag, said his name was the Master.”

Ten stared at them with wide eyes. “…No. No way! There is no way the Master could be here.”

Amy shrugged. “Well I don’t know what to tell you.”

He turned to Rory. “What, exactly, did he take?”

“Uh, I dunno… my journal, the bottle of asprin I’d bought, some other stuff…?”

Ten groaned and ran his fingers through his hair. “Just our luck, now we’ve got a kleptomaniac Time Lord running around in addition to a sick one.”

“What, that guy was a Time Lord too?”

“Yea. A dangerous one.”

He turned and looked both of them in the eye. “Listen, be careful. The Master is insane, he will hurt you. Whatever you do, don’t provoke him. If you leave the TARDIS, stay together. If you see anything suspicious, anything at all, tell me.”

“Because the Doctor suddenly falling ill isn’t suspicious at all.”

Ten stopped again. “…You know, you’re absolutely right.”

Without another word, he rushed back over to the laptop he had abandoned earlier and began typing away.

The two humans looked at each other, then back to the Doctor. “…And what’s that supposed to mean, then?” Amy inquired dryly.

“It means,” the Doctor started, not looking up from the screen, “That maybe it wasn’t the TARDIS that made him so ill. Let’s see here…”

The machine’s light became brighter, showering Ten in the glow. “Is that so?”

The light dimmed, and he put the laptop to the side, suddenly remembering something. “Amy, you said you found him in that chair, right?”

She nodded.

“Right then.”

The Doctor turned and began looking around the chair, under the console, eventually going down to the floor below to continue the search.

“…What are you looking for?” Amy asked eventually.

“I am looking for… hold on…” His head popped back up and he held up a cup with his free arm. “I was looking for this.”

“A cup?”

“Yup.”

“Why on earth do you need that?” Amy asked, watching as he moved back up to the main platform.

“Well, my dear future self said he’d had a cup of tea before he fell asleep, right? And the TARDIS, from what I can tell, has said it had nothing whatsoever to do with it. Now, you two said you’d seen the Master, and I wondered, ‘what in the world would he be doing here, now?’, so I thought, what if the two were connected? So, I found the cup he’d been using, and now we’re going to test it.”

“…I can’t say whether I think you’re bloody mad or brilliant.”

“Both, probably,” he smiled. “But that’s neither here nor there. C’mon, I’ve work to do.”

The Doctor went around to the other side of the console, beside his pile of things, still sitting all over the floor, and took out his sonic screwdriver. He ran the blue light all around the inside of the cup, then, setting it to the side, began digging through the pile again.

Another weird machine was pulled out, and he plugged the sonic screwdriver into the intended slot. The Doctor played with the screen a bit until it made a ding, and his eyes widened, worry lines increasing on his forehead. “But… how?”

“Doctor…. What’s wrong?” Amy asked tenatively.

“Don’t ask me how, but there’s… some kind of poison in that tea.”

“Poison?!”

“Yea. Gallifreyan poison. Something that should be extinct.”

 

I honestly don't know how you manage to do this so well. I think I felt my heart sink when I read the part about Eleven and Ten, and that whole scene... it was just so well written.

I'm eagerly anticipating more, but I know how long it may take. Just keep them all this good, okay?

 

Woo~

Finally read it and I really enjoyed it. As people have said, you kept faithful to character mannerisms and ways of talking and it was well written. You keep good suspense and it's easy to follow. There were a few typos here and there but overall it was very well done, I can't fault it majorly.

Look forward to the next bit.

 

Warning; I am clearly insane.

CHAPTER 3

Spoiler

“Gallifreyan poison?” Amy asked.

“That’s what I just said, isn’t it?”

The Doctor ran his hand through his hair in frustration. “I had almost suspected it, when I first saw myself, but as I’ve said, it shouldn’t even exist. Worst of all, it’s deadly, really really deadly. So we’ll have to work fast if we want to cure him in time.”

“…What do we do?”

“Eh?”

“What can we do to help?” Rory repeated. “We’ll work faster with all of us, won’t we? Tell us what to do and we’ll do it.”

Ten looked at them for a long moment. “…Always brave, aren’t they?” he murmured, smile slowly forming on his face.

“What’s that?”

“What? Nothing, nothing at all! Now, like I said, working fast, c’mon! Amy, if you’d please take Rory and run back to the store for a few more things? Hold on, I’ll write you another list…”

~~~

He’d lied. He hated lying.

Why did he keep lying?

He’d sent off Amy and Rory to the shops with another list, but this list was a fake. It’d take them ages to find anything on the list, and then he wouldn’t need any of it when they finally came back.

He felt terrible about it, but it was all for the best, really. It was dangerous, where he was going. True, they weren’t exactly safe out in the streets, what with the Master running around, but he felt better about their chances in a public place with lots of people than with him.

If he was lucky, the shopping would take long enough that he’d be back before they even knew. Then again, he didn’t exactly have the best luck, did he? Case in point, his poor future self lying in bed, struggling to breath.

The Doctor waited until the pair was around the corner to engage his TARDIS. He even managed to put her on silent, hoping not to attract attention; the last thing he needed was for someone to hijack his police box. Or something. Could you hijack a police box in motion? Did normal police boxes even move?

He shook his head of the thought. Time enough to contemplate that later.

Ten pulled the lever that landed the ship, trying to be as gentle as possible and failing miserably. He quickly checked the monitor and, making sure there was nothing dangerous in the immediate vicinity, darted upstairs to check on himself.

The other hadn’t changed since he’d been here last, thank Rassilon (or rather, thank the TARDIS for keeping him safe), aside from the fact that he had rolled over and the compress had fallen off his flushed forehead. Ten replaced it with a fresh one, taking the time to fondly smooth back Eleven’s damp hair before darting back out, shutting the door firmly behind him.

He raced back down to the control room of his own TARDIS and grabbed the trench coat off the coral structure where it lay, throwing it on. As much as he didn’t want to leave his counterpart alone, it was the only thing he could think to do. He had to get the cure, and soon, or else… no, don’t think about the consequences. He would prevent that.

The Doctor stepped out of his box into an ancient blue forest, turning and locking the door securely behind him, dropping the key into a safe pocket. He patted the doors softly, pressing his head against the familiar wood.

“Take care of him, won’t you, dear?” he murmured. The connection in the back of his mind hummed gently and he knew she would do her best. She always took him where he needed to go after all. Perhaps what he needed right now was himself.

~~~

Suddenly he was cold.

No, maybe he was hot.

Both, maybe? Eleven couldn’t tell.

The heat, that terrible heat was still searing across his skin, blistering and unbearable. He didn’t know how much longer he could take it.

Then it was cool again, positively icy against the burning of his flesh, but it felt good, sooo good, heavenly even. A hand stroked his head, gently, softly, and he felt so safe, felt like everything would be okay despite the burning in his lungs and throat. He childishly wanted to cling to the hand, didn’t want to be alone with nothing but fire all around him.

Soon enough, though, the hand left, and the feeling of complete solitude made him want to be sick. He wanted to reach out, call the hand back, but his muscles were sore and unusable and his mouth refused to work. And all around him, his head screamed, please, please no, it’s so hot, please…

Something in his middle twisted terribly, and suddenly he was awake, but it only increased the pain. Eleven slowly looked around, damp hair flopping in his face, but he couldn’t find the strength to reach up and brush it away. He was alone. As he thought. A few stubborn tears escaped from his eyes, but he impatiently blinked them away. He was being stupid. He was the Doctor. He didn’t cry out of pain. Or loneliness. Usually.

The wrenching pain in his stomach that had initially woken him gave another sharp twinge, and with speed unnatural of someone who was so ill he reached over to the side of his bed, grabbed the waste basket that he knew was there, heaved himself up over the side of the bed, and sicked up what little he had in his stomach. Even when there was nothing left to bring back up, the poor man continued to dry heave into the basket, each spasm in his side leaving him weaker and in more pain.

Finally they stopped, after what felt like hours but was probably more around five minutes, and Eleven curled in on himself upon the bed, shivering madly and fever soaring. He wiped his mouth on his damp sleeve, uncaring, and wished desperately for some water, despite not knowing whether he could keep it down, but he knew he wouldn’t get any. There was none within reach, he wouldn’t make it two feet, and he was completely and utterly alone. He choked back a sob.

And then after what felt like an eternity, he felt someone lifting his head, a firm grip on his shoulders that in his weak state felt like he was being squeezed to death and it hurt. But then there was a glass pressed against his lips and water being poured down his throat and it felt so nice that he just didn’t care.

The glass was taken away, and the Doctor coughed, wishing for more but knowing that might not be the best idea right now. Instead, one of the semi-damp blankets from the bed was wrapped tightly around him (Why did he need so many blankets when it was so bloody hot?), and he was lifted into the air. The movement made his head spin.

Whoever it was, they began walking toward the door, carrying him with them. This person was not the safe person from before, nor were they scottish. He was also pretty sure they weren’t a roman nurse. He felt like he should fight back, try to get back to the safety of his bed, but all this moving, it was making him dizzy, and then he passed out again, his mind stuck in fevered nightmares.

~~~

Ten trekked back through the alien forest of Adelia IV to his TARDIS, quite pleased with himself. In his pocket was a little bottle with a little leaf inside, and he had walked for hours to find it. The leaves of the arianas plant, grown only on this planet, in this forest, in this time period, was a little-known plant that he had come across while reading once long ago.

The book had described it as a one-of-a-kind fern whose leaves could be used to cure any type of ailment. He wasn’t sure if that applied to poisons as well, but there was no harm in trying, really. There was no other choice.

He got back to his little blue box with little incident, practically grinning as he unlocked the doors and stepped inside. His counterpart would soon be well again, everyone would be okay, and then perhaps they could all take a trip together now that he knew that being in the same time stream wouldn’t implode the universe.

The coat went over the coral supports, levers got pulled and buttons got pressed, and his lovely TARDIS made that vworp noise, and then everything stopped. The Doctor peeked his head out the door. Back in 2010, then! Perfect! He was even facing the right direction. Amy and Rory would never be the wiser.

Taking the little vile from his pocket, he headed back into the other TARDIS for another dig through the massive pile of stuff he’d left. No, not that, no, that one’s too big…

The door clicked behind him and he looked over his shoulder. Were Amy and Rory back?

No, couldn’t be. There wasn’t a soul in the room, besides himself. Must’ve imagined it. Left the door open or something. He should really stop doing that, it was going to get him in trouble one of these days…

Ten let his mind wander, absentmindedly throwing discarded objects over his shoulder as he worked. This machine really shouldn’t be so hard to locate; had he left it in his own TARDIS?

He was just getting up to check for more machinery when the door clicked for the second time, revealing Amy and Rory, laden with several shopping bags.

“Oh, hello! How went the shopping?”

Amy glanced at him, then set the shopping down, while Rory followed suit. “I’ll have you know,” she began, “That it took us ages to find anything on this dumb list of yours, and even then we couldn’t even find everything!”

“Uhm, yea, sorry about that. Really, really sorry…”

She sighed. “It’s fine. Could’ve told us beforehand though…”

“How’s the Doctor doing, er, Doctor?” Rory asked, cutting off his wife and potentially staving off an angry rant.

“Well, I was actually going to go check on him, in just a mo’. Just need to find the thingy…” He turned and continued to dig through the pile, occasionally throwing things about in the search, nearly hitting Rory at least once.

The ex-centurion dodged neatly, aided by skills he shouldn’t remember. “…What thingy?” he asked, hoping to avoid more blunt objects to the head.

“The thingy that I need to make the other thingy, of course!”

“How specific…” Amy said grumpily.

“Oh, don’t be like that, Amy! I promise you’ll… like… this…” Ten grunted, tugging on something deep within the pile, pulling out a strange looking device with some effort. He panted, holding it up and turning toward the couple. “This thingy,” he continued, “Will help make my future self well again.”

“Oh? How’s that, then?” Amy asked.

“Well first,” he began, pulling the vile of arianas from his pocket and dumping it into the machine, “We put this in here… and then… Would one of you be so kind as to fetch me a glass of water?”

Rory dug an unopened bottle of the liquid out of his bag and tossed it to Ten, who caught it with ease and yanked off the cap, pouring the contents into the machine as well.

After fiddling with it for several minutes, Amy began to get impatient. “Any time would be nice…”

“Oi, I can only go so fast!”

“Well, we’re on a bit of a time limit!”

“I know!” Ten roared. “I know, just… just shut up for a minute and let me think!”

An uneasy silence came over the room. The Doctor played with his machine a bit longer before looking up. The tension was unbearable.

“Look, I’m sorry for shouting. I just… this is as difficult for me as it is you, and getting cross with each other won’t help…”

“No, I’m the one who should be sorry,” Amy apologized slowly, Rory wrapping an arm around her. “But that’s… that’s my best friend, lying up there… he’s dying, and I feel so… so helpless…”

Ten smiled sadly and stood, temporarily abandoning the little machine. He went over to the pair and pulled the girl into a hug, and for a moment it was the little girl with the crack in her wall being embraced by her raggedy Doctor once again.

“I promise, Amy, everything will be okay. I can fix this. I know I can. Trust me.”

She smiled and pulled away. “I always trust you, Doctor.”

Still, she missed her Doctor, the one who called her Pond and wore a fez and a silly bowtie, so she turned this different, same Doctor back towards his machines and gave a shove. “Back to your crazy whoozy-whatsit, then,” she said, wrapping her arms back around Rory’s middle. “Bring him back to us.”

Ten laughed and did just that.

~~~

Twenty minutes later, the machine being worked on by clever hands dinged loudly, and Ten gave a shout of triumph, holding up a syringe that seemed to be full of a clear liquid. “I think I’ve got it!”

“Really?!” Amy said, jumping up from her seat against the wall next to Rory, who had fallen asleep, but that was no longer a thing now that people were shouting.

“Oh, I really think so!” Ten said excitedly. “In theory, it’s perfect. Can cure anything.”

“What about in practice, though?” Rory asked, standing groggily. “How something works in theory can be completely different in a real situation. You have to be careful, especially with medicine.”

“Oh, I know, Rory, don’t be such a killjoy,” Ten laughed. His expression turned somber, then, gazing at the little glass needle. “It’s as close to perfect as I can get it. It’s… the only way. The only one I’ve been able to think of that isn’t locked away on a planet that no longer exists.

“If this doesn’t work… He’s dead either way. So am I, for that matter.”

Rory nodded slowly. “…Well then, if this is anything like your other plans, then this will definitely work.”

Ten grinned. “That’s the spirit!”

“Enough chatter, boys! Time to make a sick man well again.” Amy said, laughing. She took both of their arms and led them toward the staircase.

The trio made their way back to the room where Eleven slept, finding the door slightly ajar.

‘Didn’t I close that door?’ Ten wondered.

Amy pushed the door open and stepped inside, then gasped, stepping back. Seeing her panic, Ten pushed her to the side and entered the room himself.

The bed was empty.

Ten urgently approached the bed, pulling the still-damp sheets off the bed as though the other were hiding beneath them. Still damp… he’d been here until very recently…

“He could barely move earlier,” he said, almost astonished. “We were in the console room the whole time! He couldn’t have gone anywhere without us knowing…”

“Let’s split up and search,” Rory said. “Surely he hasn’t gone too far, in that state.”

The Doctor was about to nod, when he noticed a paper that had been shaken loose from the blankets. He picked it up, fearing the worst, and quickly skimmed it. His expression grew into a mixture of anger, worry, and grief.

“Oh, I’m afraid he’s not in the TARDIS anymore,” he said, not looking at the two humans.

“Why?” Amy asked shakily. “What does that paper say, Doctor?”

Ten looked at them carefully, the Oncoming Storm present in his eyes. “He’s been kidnapped by the Master.”

~~~

Everything hurt.

The person carrying him (for he certainly wasn’t moving of his own accord) wasn’t gentle at all, treating him rather like a sack of potatoes. His head felt like a sack of potatoes, that was for sure, and it was all Eleven could do to keep himself awake. Shame, he didn’t much like potatoes, not Earth potatoes anyway…

Ow. No more thinking. His head hurt.

On the bright side, he no longer felt as though he were going to be sick, but the heat, the heat, it was even more unbearable than before, and he didn’t know if he could take it much longer. He moaned, shifting slightly, wanting the motion to stop, wanting desperately to go back to bed, wanting it to stop being so bloody hot.

At the motion, whoever was carrying him stopped. “Awake then, are you?” came a voice, a very familiar voice.


“…You’re dead…” Eleven said raspily, barely able to hear himself. It hurt his throat just to squeak out those two words.

“Dead, am I? That’s funny, I could’ve sworn I was just walking around as though I were alive…” the voice said airily.

The sick man opened his eyes blearily, squinting at the light. “How…” he stopped and coughed wetly, body shaking and shivering with the effort.

The other dropped him in disgust, and Eleven’s weak body hit the pavement hard, instantly and instinctively curling into a ball, still coughing as though he were attempting to hack up a lung.

“Haven’t I told you before, Doctor?” the man said delightedly, leaning in with an insane grin when the other was no longer coughing. “I’m the Master; you can’t get rid of me so easily.”

“Why?” Eleven managed to choke out.

“Why what? Why am I the Master? Well I should think that would be obvious!” He barked out a laugh. “But no, I assume you meant why I kidnapped you. Well, you see, your little companions and yourself have found the cure for the poison I slipped you. You should watch what you drink more carefully, by the way, but then, I always knew they’d find something. Never meant to kill you, though your past self is a bit of a monkey wrench in my plans.

“I’m not worried about him, though. Right about now, he’ll be much too preoccupied looking for you to worry about silly little me, I should think. No, no, I just needed you out of the way long enough for my real plan to be put into action.”

He smiled and knelt on the ground beside where the other Time Lord was glaring up at him. “And I suppose this is the part where I tell you aaaaall about my master plan to do whatever evil thing I’m up to. However, this isn’t some cartoon, Doctor. This is real life, and I know perfectly well that if I tell you, you’ll just blab to your friends, and they’ll come and save the day, and blah blah blah…”

He laughed and stood up again. “No, no. You’re friends will come for you, and I won’t stop them. Though, you might not be in the best shape when they arrive…” He laughed again and kicked Eleven, hard, right in the stomach.

The Doctor began coughing again, seeing stars and blackness behind his eyes, the force of the blow making him fly a few paces away. His throat was sore, his head hurt, it was so, so hot, but he couldn’t give up. He never gave up.

With an enormous amount of effort, the man pushed himself up onto his hands and knees. He took a look at the Master, who seemed to be laughing at his efforts, and used a nearby wall for support to stand properly. The blanket fell from his shoulders to pool around his shaking legs, and his limbs were screaming at him in pain, but his eyes burned with fire in more ways than one.

He refused to give up.

~~~

Three members of the TARDIS crew ran back down the many stairs and out of the little blue box, once again on the streets of London. Ten, not even bothering to lock the doors behind him, was angry. So, so angry. The Master had gone too far this time.

His trench coat billowed out behind him as he ran, making him quite the terrifying sight to behold, the furiousness in his eyes blazing a path through anyone who dared to stand in his way at this particular moment in time. Not that anyone did. Coupled with a fiery red-head whose death glare would stop a train and an ex-centurion who really could kill you in an instant, you would be hard pressed to find a person who wouldn’t be terrified at the mere sight of them.

Down the streets and alleys they ran, stopping for nothing. They had a mission.

It was Amy who heard the cry first. The cry of someone in pain.

“Over there!” she shouted, turning on heel and running down the path between two buildings, her boys not far behind. Somehow, Ten managed to get in front of her, and emerged into the little yard at the end of the path first. Before them was a scene they certainly hadn’t expected.

At the opposite end of the yard from where they had emerged, stood the Master, hands on his hips and laughing despite the blood covering the side of his face. And, standing with his back to them, was Eleven, head held high despite his obviously labored breaths.

“Well well, Doctor! Looks like your friends have finally caught us!” the Master taunted, smile never leaving his face.

Eleven turned to face them, joy and relief apparent on his face, before promptly collapsing to the ground, the effort of everything finally catching up to him.

“DOCTOR!” Amy screeched, all three of them rushing forward toward the fallen Time Lord. Ten got there first, kneeling beside the other and quickly checking for injuries. Amy and Rory took places beside the pair, standing between the Master and his latest victim.

Ten grit his teeth, removing his coat and placing it around Eleven’s shoulders, lifting him into his arms and pulling him close. “So sorry, so so sorry…” he murmured to his unconscious counterpart.

“YOU’LL PAY FOR THIS, YOU BLOODY *******!” Amy shouted at the Master, who was still grinning like a fool.

“Oh, will I now? Looks like the Doctor’s newest little friend has got quite the temper…”

“Shut it!” Rory shouted. “Why don’t you just go away?”

“Hmm… Alright!” the Master grinned. He then turned on heel and fled, and it was easy to see how he’d managed to outrun Rory.

“…It worked?” Rory said in disbelief.

“Oh, don’t worry about him now, stupid face.” Amy said, turning and kneeling beside the two Doctors. “…How is he?”

“…Worse,” Ten said. “Fighting the Master certainly didn’t help…” From inside his pocket, the younger Doctor produced the syringe that contained the liquid cure. He popped off the cap and held it out to the male nurse. “Rory, if you would…”

“Of course…” Taking the needle, he rolled up Eleven’s sleeve and prepared the spot as best he could. “Wish I could sterilize it…”

“The needle’s sterile.” Ten said softly. “Can’t do much about his skin, we’ll just have to hope for the best… I don’t feel comfortable waiting any longer to give it to him.”

Rory nodded, and carefully plunged the needle into Eleven’s arm. He waited a brief second, then pressed down, releasing the medication, and pulled the needle out again. As he rolled the elder Doctor’s sleeve back down, the younger Doctor took the needle back, capping it and putting it back in his pocket.

Ten sighed, pulling himself closer. “Now we can only wait. And hope.”

 

Alright, that's it, this will forever be a canon event to me.

Seriously, I love chapter three. The way that you describe "the oncoming storm" and everything was brilliant and I adore this plot. You also played the Master to perfection (which pretty much means that you are insane). I also feel like some things resemble my sad attempts to build on such a great fanfic.

I am eagerly awaiting the next update (and you'd better not pull a Plums and take three months to do it)~

 

But I already did that :lolface:

 

This is a wonderful piece of writing you've got here. Grabbed my attention right from the start and kept it. Just how I like it.
You're doing a great job! You've stayed faithful to the characters and managed to get in character with them very well.
Also, the plot is quite intriguing. I like how you've set it up.

Can't wait to read some more of it!

 

Warning; This... isn't exactly the best chapter, but it needed to be written for the plot to continue. It's mostly just fluff and cuddles. On top of that it's also where it starts getting slightly more... shippy. If for some reason you don't like that but havn't left yet, now would be the time to piss off.

CHAPTER 4

Spoiler

The group slowly made their way back to the TARDIS, Ten carrying Eleven as though he were the most precious thing in the world. Rory held Amy’s hand the entire time.

The doors to Ten’s TARDIS were carefully shut and locked behind them, the younger Doctor taking a moment to put up shields around the box before making his way back up through the wardrobe, through Eleven’s TARDIS, and back to the bedroom. All the time they walked, the constant hum that old girl seemed to produce seemed sad, upset even, and he knew that seeing the Doctor, any Doctor, in such a state of misery was worse than torture for her.

The Doctor set the limp body on the bed, pulling up the sheets and affectionately pushing back the other’s hair, taking a seat beside him. Eleven’s fever was still terribly high, but already his breathing seemed to be returning to normal.

His hands moved down to the chest. Beneath the cotton shirt and skin and muscles, there was one heartbeat, strong and steady, so he moved his hand to the other side. It took a moment, but there was a heartbeat there too. It was slow and weak, probably painful after being stopped for so long, but it was there and Ten breathed a sigh of relief. Eleven would surely feel better after he awoke.

“…Is he any better?” Amy asked anxiously. The Time Lord turned to see her and Rory in the doorway, still holding hands, bodies pressed comfortingly together.

“Yea,” Ten smiled. “Looks like he’ll be fine after a good rest.”

The room let out a breath no one knew they had been holding and suddenly everything seemed less terrible.

“Thank god,” Amy said, exhausted. “Almost thought we’d lost him for a while…”

“Nah, you’ll never be rid of me,” Ten joked.

They laughed, and the married couple left to go get some much-needed sleep. When the door had shut behind them, Ten turned his attention back to Eleven, idly stroking his hair. Who would want to hurt such a pretty thing…? No, no, he was doing it again, stop that.

He needed to work on figuring out some things anyway. Back to work, he supposed.

Hesitating before standing, he seemed to reach a decision. Pushing back Eleven’s hair again, Ten quickly pressed a chaste kiss to the other’s forehead. He could still feel the heat of the other’s skin through his lips.

“Sleep well, mate,” Ten said kindly, turning and heading for the door.

~

It was many hours later when sleep finally faded for the Doctor, the haze that had seemingly been a permanent fixture over his mind the past few days lifting. His eyes opened slowly, adjusting to the cool darkness of his bedroom.

He lifted a hand to rub at his face, joints aching, and forced himself to sit up a bit. It was still terribly hot, but not nearly the inferno it had been the last time he remembered being awake.

What had he been doing, last time he was awake?... Something about the Master… He couldn’t remember. He sighed and gave up, slumping back against the pillows. Thinking was giving him a headache. How interesting, he didn’t think he’d had a headache in this body before…

Suddenly a hacking cough made its way out of his mouth, and Eleven turned his head to cough into his shoulder, throat burning and dry. The fit passed, and he lowered his arm tiredly. He could really use some water…

Amy and Rory weren’t around… Neither was his past self… He’d have to get it himself.

The Time Lord pushed back the covers and, wrapping one of the blankets around his shoulders, shakily standing up, using the bedside table for support. Still wobbly, he made his way to the door, nearly falling twice, and leaned against the doorframe. Just getting this far had drained his energy, but the dryness in his throat pushed him on.

Down the TARDIS corridors he wandered, stumbling occasionally. He could tell the TARDIS was trying to be helpful, because he hadn’t run into any dead ends, but really, there was only so much she could do.

He patted a wall fondly as he passed, laughing despite himself. “Oh, old girl, I must be losing my mind. Honestly, getting lost in my own TARDIS…” He giggled again, but the burning got worse so he decided to stop that and get on with… whatever it was that he’d been doing. What had he been doing again? He didn’t even remember anymore.

He continued down a few more of the hallways, leaning on walls occasionally so as not to trip over his own feet. Was it getting hotter?

Finally, he came upon a set of stairs. Blindly heading down them, slow and holding tightly to the rail, he looked up and realized he was in the control room. Brilliant! Good ol’ Sexy, always taking him to a place he wanted to be. Except when she didn’t and he got angry and pounded his fist into the controls and she’d retaliate by pulling levers that weren’t meant to be pulled. Ow. Headache.

Where was everyone anyway?

The doors to the TARDIS creaked open then, revealing Ten with an armload of things. Seemed he hadn’t noticed his future self yet… He should go down and talk with him! They hadn’t had a chance to talk properly yet, and the other had done a bang-up job of sorting everything out while he was stuck in bed.

He walked toward the second set of stairs, pulling the blanket tighter about himself. On the second step down, his legs began to wobble before they buckled beneath him, fatigue catching up with him.

“Ah…” he gasped quietly, shutting his eyes and bracing himself for an impact with the hard floor.

It never came.

After a few seconds, Eleven dared to open his eyes, finding his view to be full of brown pinstripes. He shifted his gaze upward to find the smiling face of his past self.

“Nearly gave me a turn, you did,” Ten scolded softly, shifting to adjust to the weight. “What’re you doing out of bed, eh? Feeling any better?”
The smaller mumbled something incoherent into the other’s shoulder and attempted to push himself back to his feet, with little result. In response Ten lowered the both of them down to sit on the steps, allowing Eleven to lean on him while he pressed a hand to his forehead.

“Still burning up a bit… Why did you get out of bed?” he repeated.

“…I don’t remember,” the elder said tiredly, hair flopping in his face again. He lifted a blanket-covered hand to his mouth and started coughing again.

“Ah, that doesn’t sound good. I suppose that medicine isn’t working as well as we’d hoped… Not as fast as we’d hoped, at any rate. You do seem to be a bit better from earlier, though, so there’s that.”

“Hm,” Eleven responded, eyes drooping.

“Heh, how about some tea and then back to bed, hm?” Ten chuckled. He pulled the other’s arm over his shoulder and helped him back to his feet. “You need rest, I think.”

Eleven nodded dazedly, the sudden movement making the room spin. He leaned heavily on his counterpart and allowed him to lead him back to bed. Somehow, the route seemed shorter than it had earlier.

~~~

The Master watched his screen for a moment, popcorn on the table, laughing at the things he saw. Oh, this was all just brilliant! Honestly, he was certain it couldn’t have gotten any better than this if he’d tried.

The phone on the desk rang, and he leisurely picked it up with two fingers stained with popcorn butter. If anything could be said for these humans, they definitely made some great popcorn.

“Helloooooooo?” the Time Lord answered leisurely. “Oh, it’s brilliant! Absolutely according to plan, it’s almost like a dream… What? No, no, I’m definitely sure, they can’t interfere now. By the time they can even attempt to do anything, it’ll be too late!”

“…Of course I know that, I’m not some stupid villain from the telle, you know.” He was starting to sound a bit cross now. “Yes… Alright, see ya.”

The Master dropped the receiver back on the hook, grabbing the bowl of popcorn and throwing a few more kernels into his mouth, laughing. He loved it when he won.

~~~

Ten deposited Eleven gently onto the bed, helping him lie back down properly and covering him with the duvet. Perhaps they should change the sheets, these were still damp…

The smaller yawned widely, then coughed again, his body shaking from the effort. When the fit passed, he closed his eyes and leaned back against the pillows.

Ten smoothed his elder’s hair back from his eyes. “D’you want that tea, or would you rather I left so you can sleep?”

Eleven blearily opened one eye and smiled faintly at his counterpart. “…Tea would be lovely,” he rasped, voice cracking. He waited a moment, then added hopefully, “…And maybe some Jammie Dodgers?”

The other laughed and ruffled Eleven’s hair. “’Course! I’ll be right back, then. Get some rest.”

The elder leaned into the touch and watched as Ten left the room. It seemed he’d shut his eyes for only a moment when the door opened again, the younger Doctor pushing it with his foot as he carried in a tray with tea and his favorite biscuits.

Eleven forced himself to sit up properly against the pillows, wincing at the strain, then smiled in thanks at Ten. “I’m afraid I must’ve fallen asleep for a ‘mo…”

“I can see that,” the other replied, laughing as he set the tray on the bedside table. “It’s fine, you’re still recovering.”

“About that…” the elder said slowly, accepting the tea and sipping it. It was wonderful on his poor abused throat. “What am I recovering from, exactly?”

Ten lowered his own teacup. “Gallifreyan poison,” he said seriously. “It nearly killed you, actually… I was afraid for a while that… But nevermind that now! You’re well on your way to being one hundred percent!” He flashed a reassuring smile.

Eleven wasn’t convinced. “How would I have been poisoned? By something that no longer exists, at that?”

“…It was the Master. Don’t you remember? Although, you might’ve been a bit out of it at that point…”

As Ten continued to babble on, Eleven turned to his thoughts. The Master… It was starting to come back now…

“AH! The Master!” the smaller said with a start. “I remember now! He was up to something! I-“

Another bout of coughing cut off the outburst, and Ten quickly took the teacup from his counterpart’s grasp to prevent a spill.

“Shhhh…” Ten soothed, petting back Eleven’s hair as the hacking slowed. “It’s alright…”

The smaller slumped back against the pillows, energy spent. He felt drowsiness overtake him, and his eyes started to slide closed.

The taller smiled sadly and stood, meaning to take the tray back to the kitchen, when a hand reached out and grasped his sleeve in a weak grip.

“What’s wrong?” Ten asked softly, sitting back down on the bed.

“Nothing… I just… Didn’t want you to go quite yet…” Eleven mumbled.

Ten chuckled. “Alright then.” He shifted himself up until he was sitting beside his sleepy elder self against the pillows, two Doctors side by side.

“…I always did like being you,” Eleven said softly, throat sore. “You always know what to say. Not to mention you’re the most handsome of the lot of us.”

“Heh, I dunno. I imagine you’re quite good looking yourself when you’re not bedridden.” Ten laughed again. “Then again, I’d like to think we’re always good looking.”

The smaller Doctor smiled. “Like I said, always know what to say, that’s you. Me, I just sort of… say what pops into my head and hope it works. Sometimes it works. Other times not so much.” He yawned. “Gotten me into trouble, sometimes. ‘S probably why my companions keep getting hurt… Should work on that…”

Ten put an arm around Eleven in a comforting manner, pulling him closer. “Sometimes I think we’re doomed to loneliness… I’ve seen those nightmares you had. I have them too. But you know, they always do come back, our friends… Maybe we’re doing something right after all?”

Eleven chuckled quietly and leaned into the embrace, tiredly putting his head on the other’s shoulder.

“And hey, we have each other for the moment, too. Can’t go wrong there.”

A long moment passed, quiet filling the room. Ten lost himself in his thoughts, while Eleven let his eyes begin to drift closed.

“…Hey, I did want to ask you something, earlier,” the younger started.

“Hm?”

“Am I… happy? When I go? I’ve heard some things… And I’ve just got this nagging feeling…”

A moment passed with no answer, and Ten looked down to find Eleven fast asleep. He chuckled and pulled the duvet around them.

~~~

Amelia Pond, resting her head on her husband’s chest, was tired. So, so tired. And worried. Couldn’t forget about worried.

Really, it wasn’t like her to worry over nothing like this. Usually she could handle anything life threw at her (which was actually quite a lot, now that she thought about it), but there was just a feeling, in the back of her head, that something was very, very wrong.

She shifted slightly on the bed, listing to Rory’s breath as he slept, wishing she could fall asleep too and just forget it for a bit.

What was it that was bothering her, anyway? The Doctor, her Doctor, was safe in bed, well on his way to recovery. Rory was here with her, with his calm manner that always got her out of a rage. The other Doctor from the past said everything would be okay.

Rule number one, the Doctor lies, she thought idly, but somehow this didn’t seem like a place where that rule applied. That man seemed to truly believe his own words.

Maybe it was that Master bloke. Amy knew the Doctor had enemies, she wasn’t stupid, but why would that guy try to kill her raggedy man and then just… give up? It didn’t make any sense.

She needed to talk it over with the Doctor. The past Doctor, of course. She knew that as soon as he thought something might be up, her own Doctor would rush out trying to fix it, regardless of his health. The girl mentally shook her head. Silly man…

Silently, Amy rose from the bed without waking her husband and crept out into the hallway. She quickly made her way to the control room, only to find it empty save the growing pile of junk the younger Doctor was continually bringing over from his own TARDIS.

A quick trip through the other TARDIS revealed that Ten was not there ether (at least as far as she could tell), so the Scottish girl went back to the more familiar TARDIS control room and sat down on the steps to think.

The Doctor wouldn’t just pop out without telling them, would he? There were still shields around the outer TARDIS, but she didn’t know. Had he perhaps gone to check on himself? That would be it, wouldn’t it. He did seem very fond of his future self.

Standing again, Amy climbed the remaining stairs and left the control room. After spending nearly twenty minutes lost in the corridors, she finally found her Doctor’s room again and softly knocked on the door, then opened it anyway.

Inside, perched upon the bed, were the two Doctors, both fast asleep. The elder’s head was on the younger’s shoulder, and Ten’s arm was still wound around behind Eleven’s back.

Well… that was unexpected. The girl stared for a moment, before smiling and giggling slightly. She closed the door and started back down the hall, toward where Rory was probably at least partially coherent by now and wondering where she was.

We can talk later, Amy decided. No need to break up such a cute couple.

~~~

The screams coming from the screams grew louder, as did the Master’s laughter. If he didn’t have anything better to do, he’d probably sit here and watch all day. Honestly, they should make this into a television program.

As it were, though, he stood from his comfy chair and went to get ready. Once in a lifetime opportunity, after all. Gotta look the part.

~~~

Morning came for the TARDIS crew, and the Tenth Doctor was finding it hard to wake up properly. There was a warm weight at his side, and a soft bed… Where was he, exactly?

The man opened his eyes and looked down to find his future self sleeping on his shoulder. Oh. He must’ve dropped off when Eleven’d asked him to stay. He chuckled and lifted the opposite hand to Eleven’s forehead to find that the fever had finally subsided, leaving the other’s body temperature nearly back to normal.

How long had they slept, anyway? Ten’s internal clock said about seven hours. Way longer than what he usually slept, but then, yesterday had been exhausting to say the least.

He stretched slightly, attempting to get rid of the crick in his neck without disturbing his companion. Sadly, he failed in that respect, and Eleven began to stir beside him.

“Good morning,” Ten said cheerily.

“…G’morning…” the smaller yawned.

“How’re you feeling?”

“Mmm… Better, actually,” Eleven said, stretching and sitting up properly, stopping mid-motion to cough.

“I was hoping you’d say that, although it seems like you’re not quite recovered yet.”

“Well, I’m hoping for some food. I’m absolutely famished. And also maybe a shower.”

Ten laughed. “I’ll get you some soup, then. Have you fixed up in no time, we will.”

“Thanks. If you see Pond, tell her I’m alright, I’m sure she’s been worrying about me. Or Rory, Rory’s good too.”

Ten left for the moment, leaving the elder alone with his thoughts. He’d been sick for a few days, that was for sure, but his sense of time was all messed up. Some Time Lord he was.

And there was something else, something important… What was it? He couldn’t remember. Ah, well, it probably wasn’t terribly important anyway.

~~~

The younger Doctor soon returned with soup and tea prepared for his counterpart.

“Ah, good, you’re back! I was wondering where you’d got to,” Eleven said happily, his usual babble starting up again now that he was nearly well. “Any news on my Pair of Ponds, or are they both still asleep? They do sleep a lot, I think, more than most of our other companions.”

Ten chuckled and set the tray before him. “Well, they are quite young, especially by our standards. And married.”

“What’s that got to do with sleeping?”

“Oh, please tell me I don’t turn out to be this thick…”

“Oi, what’s that supposed to mean?”

Eleven pretended to glare at his younger self for a moment before the two broke out in laughter. The moment stopped when the smaller began to cough again. The fit ended fairly quickly, but he decided not to push it and went back to his soup.

“Anyway, no, I couldn’t find them,” Ten said. “Probably still asleep, like you said. Yesterday was a bit… hard. Well, more exhausting. Well, an exhausting catastrophe.”

“Did something happen while I was sleeping?”

“Quite a few things, really… What do you remember of the past few days?”

The smaller Time Lord set his spoon aside while he stopped to think. “Well, let me see… I had tea and Jammy Dodgers… And then I must’ve nodded off…”

“You’ve already told me that, go on.”

“Did I? Well… after that, everything’s a bit hazy. I remember a few snatches here or there, but most of it’s just… not there. Next thing I knew I was awake, and quite thirsty… And then I went to find you, and you probably know the rest from there.”

“…Sounds about right,” Ten said slowly. “You’re sure you don’t remember anything else though? You were awake for more time than you’re describing.”

“…I remember you. I think you were around me quite a bit while I was out. And Amy, Amy was there too. And I remember thinking it was terribly hot and someone should turn on the TARDIS cooling system before I burned to death.”

“…Hm. And one more thing. What about the Master?”

“What about him?”

“He kidnapped you. While you were out. Seems you put up quite a fight, though, since he ended up running away, but before you fell asleep last night you said something about him, and whatever it is seemed like it was upsetting you. If you can remember if he told you anything, anything useful at all, we might be able to figure out what it is he’s up to.” Ten said.

Eleven sat back and thought. He did remember something… That face, laughing at his pain…

“I remember!” the smaller gasped suddenly, struggling to sit up a bit better. “He is up to something, you were right. He poisoned me to get me out of the way, so he could do… something, something else…”

He put his hands up to his temples, trying to drag the memory out of his brain. It hurt terribly, but he needed to remember…

“I… I can’t…” He let his hands drop, flopping back against the pillows. “I’m sorry, I can’t seem to recall anything else… My head’s hurting too much.”

Ten smiled sadly, taking the empty dishes and placing them aside. “That’s alright, you did your best. We’re the Doctor, we’ll muddle through like always. More fun without a plan anyway, yea?”

Eleven chuckled, then coughed. “Best way to handle any situation, clearly.”

The taller laughed and placed the back of his hand against the elder’s forehead. “Still got a bit of a fever. Go back to sleep. I’ll handle everything.”

“But I want to help!”

“The best way for you to help right now is to get better.”

Eleven huffed goodnaturedly and lay back down, his back facing his counterpart. “Fine.”

Ten chuckled again and leaned down to kiss the side of the smaller’s head. “Goodnight, then,” he said, and picked up the dishes and walked out the door, closing it softly behind him.

Unbeknownst to him, Eleven, upon being kissed began blushing profusely. Had he just kissed himself? Damned fever…