"Almost Icarus" by ellijay
Summary: Missing scene for "42" – because I can't believe the Doctor could be bombarded with radiation, possessed by a living sun and fight tooth and nail for control of his own mind, then jump right up and be fine. Even Time Lords must have their limits.
Chapter 1 – "Scorched Wings"
When the living sun left the Doctor, it felt as though all of the warmth, breath and blood in his body were torn out with it. As he rolled onto his back, he realized at least one of those was true. He couldn't breathe. Respiratory bypass wasn't kicking in, and the frenetic beat of his left heart told him why – only one of his hearts was working, and it was pounding hard and fighting to keep a steady rhythm.
Just as the edges of his vision were starting to blacken, the Pentallian pitched hard to the side, throwing him against the bulkhead. A searing pain ripped through the right side of his chest, and after a crazed moment of thinking his right heart had literally burst, he realized it was beating again, strong and steady. A dim, dispassionately calm part of his mind noted his impact with the wall must've restarted it. But he still couldn't breathe.
The whine of the auxiliary engines firing barely registered through the roaring in his ears as black spots bubbled across his vision. Just as he was about to slip over the edge into unconsciousness and probable death and regeneration, stabbing pains slamming through his chest told him his respiratory bypass system had just come back to life.
As the ship slowly righted itself, he rolled back across the floor and stopped with his forehead pressed hard against the deck of the ship. That faltering rational part of his brain noted the floor was absolutely filthy, while inside his chest, both hearts and respiratory bypass struggled to synchronize. Nausea rose, and just as he thought he was going to be sick, his lungs sucked breath back into his body. He almost choked as the inrush of air collided with the bile in the back of his throat.
He lay there heaving huge, ragged breaths, his eyes squeezing shut as he tried desperately to calm himself, to relinquish control to his autonomic systems so they could readjust his body functions. Part of him struggled against giving up any kind of control so soon after almost losing all he had to the living sun, but the calm voice in the back of his mind soothed him, told him to let go. With one last surge of panic, he did let go, and in only a few moments, hearts and lungs synchronized. It felt as if his entire chest were humming, but then he realized that was just the auxiliary engines ramping up to full speed, the vibrations buzzing through his body.
The steady throb of the ship, combined with the awareness that the sun was being left further and further behind with every moment, finally calmed him to the point where he was able to open his eyes and gather his tenuous strength to begin struggling up off the deck. But something still wasn't right. He just wasn't quite sure what it was.
