Ambassadors of Pain
"Brigadier?" The Doctor frowned as the two men left Sir James' office together, on their way back to the Space Station to reconvene with Liz and the other scientists. Lethbridge-Stewart stopped suddenly in the corridor, letting out a small exclamation of pain as he clutched at his ribs and doubled over – taking small, short and rapid breaths. For a moment the man didn't move, and he didn't speak – he seemed to be concentrating all of his efforts into breathing – but as the Doctor slowly approached him he noticed the thin sheen of sweat upon his friend's face and a steely glint within the man's dark eyes suggesting that he was fighting some internal battle.
"I'm alright Doctor." The UNIT commanding officer tried to reassure him, with all of the ardent determination the Doctor had come to expect from him in the long years they'd known each other, but it wasn't enough. The Doctor could see that there was something wrong with his friend.
"Well I'm sorry Brigadier," he sighed, moving even closer and as he did so taking in the man's pale appearance, "but I can quite clearly see that you are not."
The Brigadier still did not respond – not even to reiterate that he was fine, thereby confirming that he was not, which concerned his friend – and he let go of another shaky groan of pain.
"Lethbridge-Stewart?" He asked, packing some force behind these words in an attempt to make them sound more like an order. From this distance he noticed a small bruise at the base of the Brigadier's throat, spreading out from beneath the khaki of his uniform like a bleeding inkblot against his canvas of parchment like skin, and he frowned.
"Alistair?" He asked more softly, reaching out to touch the area of burst membrane and swollen tissue, and as his fingers made gentle contact with the man's wounded skin the Brigadier let out a sudden cry which on the face of things seemed a little out of perspective for the small bruise which was visible.
Then again the Doctor knew that his friend was not prone to over exaggeration.
"Brigadier?" This time he held the Brigadier in a cast iron gaze, his eyes boring deep into the man's own, and even the Brigadier found himself wavering under the Time Lord's stare. The Doctor recalled that he had not seemed quite his usual self since returning with those of his men who had survived the battle with the Ambassadors, and he pressed him further for answers.
"Alistair," He addressed the man softly. Two men in white protective suits rounded the corner and the Brigadier eased himself carefully back up the wall, adopting a more natural stance as they passed and saluted him, but still breathing heavily.
"I want to help you," the Doctor explained once they had gone, "but I can't do that unless you tell me what's wrong."
The Brigadier looked at him – the pain in his eyes was evident and he was clearly suffering, but he hid it well until another wave of pain overtook him and he struggled to stifle another strangled moan.
When the attack had passed he straightened himself up as much as was reasonably comfortable and looked the Doctor seriously in the eyes. He raised his chin slightly, squared his shoulders off, puffed out his chest – although this made him wince slightly – and his lips set straight in a serious line.
The Doctor had seen this look from his friend before, and he often adopted it when he felt vulnerable in an attempt to make himself appear more superior than the Time Lord.
"I'm afraid Doctor," he sighed heavily, "I've been shot."
"Shot?" The Doctor frowned, looking the Brigadier up and down for any sign of blood, but he could see none. Apart from the obvious bruising there was no other indication that he was in any way seriously injured, and the Time Lord could not initially grasp the Brigadier's meaning.
"Well," The Brigadier sighed, doing his best to explain, but the strain was clearly beginning to show upon his pale face, "as I've already told you Doctor we didn't stand a chance," He clutched at his ribs again and drew a deep breathe in. "The Ambassador's fire power far over exceeded our own, our guns were no match for theirs. Many of the men were cut down before they'd even had a chance to defend themselves. I think I managed to take down a few before my whole body was suddenly seized with this most terrible pain. There was a crushing blow to my chest, all the breath seemed to have been drawn out of me and I crumpled to the ground. I must have lost consciousness I'm afraid because when I came round there were lifeless bodies surrounding me, dead men everywhere. I had no idea how I'd survived when so many others had lost their lives… I just knew they had to be stopped before they could unleash their devastation upon anyone else. I didn't tell anyone what had happened… no one knew I'd been shot."
His voice was becoming increasingly more strained with every word spoken, and he suddenly doubled over, grimacing and failing to suppress the groan which escaped him. He didn't know what was more humiliating, having to admit to the Doctor that he needed his help, or finding himself unable to disguise his discomfort.
"The pains getting worse isn't it?" The Doctor observed, and the Brigadier nodded.
"Come on Brigadier," The Time Lord sighed, helping him to stand and giving him a moment to compose himself, "we need to get back to UNIT Headquarters so I can take a proper look at these injuries."
"But Doctor, the Space Station… Liz is waiting for us?" The Brigadier protested.
"Liz can wait." The Doctor explained kindly as he wrapped a gentle arm around his friend's waist and began to lead him away. "I'm sure she'd understand if she knew. You know you really should have told us Brigadier, I admire your chivalry but those men died of severe internal bleeding. I don't understand how you even survived, but we have no way of knowing what kind of internal injuries you may have sustained."
"I had a job to do Doctor." The Brigadier pointed out flatly.
"That as may be Brigadier," the Doctor sighed, "but you're no good to anyone dead are you? What good would that accomplish? Besides I know of quite a few people who would be really quite upset if something were to happen to you."
The Brigadier forced a small smile, and glanced stiffly over at the Time Lord, as side by side they made their way slowly out of the scientific base. He didn't say as much, he knew it wouldn't be appreciated, but the Brigadier understood all too well the real meaning behind the Doctor's words. One of those people, he knew deep down in his heart, would have been the Time Lord himself.
DWDW
An hour or so later the Doctor and the Brigadier arrived back at the lab where Liz and the other scientists were waiting for them. The Brigadier was still in some discomfort but the Doctor had given him an injection of something to help ease his pain and his severely bruised chest and stomach were now tightly bound with bandages – thankfully he'd somehow managed to escape the internal injuries which had killed the rest of his men.
The Doctor had been thorough in his examination of his friend, and had determined that the Brigadier was in no immediate danger, but was not unexpectedly in a lot of pain and would probably need to carry on receiving the pain killing injections for the next few days to come. There was an extensive patch of bruising to his stomach, and some severe damage had been done to his ribs – but he was very lucky to be alive.
The Doctor still didn't quite understand why it was that the Brigadier had survived when so many others had lost their lives, but he'd learnt a long time ago not to underestimate his friend's strength, and he had every faith that the Brigadier would continue to surprise them all yet for as long as there was fight left within him, and a drive to survive.
