Unbound
By Sonic Jules
Disclaimer: Doctor Who and the characters of said show do not belong to me, no matter how hard I've wished for it. No infringement meant on the owners, nor BBC, and no monetary gain was made. Just having a little fun.
A/N: This was a challenge given to me by Catharicone, my friend and beta and spinner of masterful plots, all rolled into one. She provided the first several paragraphs of this 'challenge', several scenarios she wanted to see, and the title. Credits to her, though she's humbly refusing any of it.
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Chapter One
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The cold metal bit into the tender skin of her wrists, digging painfully through flesh to rub at bone. She'd kept on her feet as long as possible, trying to prevent the inevitable pressure that would come when her legs gave out. Rose wasn't sure how long it had been—days, perhaps—but finally she hadn't been able to stand any longer and had sunk down.
Her shoulders ached fiercely, and she wondered if they were dislocated. But that was far from the worst of her worries. Bones and muscles could be mended. A head severed from the body was another matter. Even the Doctor with his prodigious talents and intelligence couldn't fix that.
How much longer did she have? She didn't know, but the sound of voices in the dank hallway outside her cell told her that time was of the essence now, and the Lord of Time, her only hope for salvation, was nowhere to be found.
Beneath the wooden door which separated her from her captors, Rose saw a sharp flash of light, forcing her to close her eyes as she heard scuffling and moaning from the other side. She opened them again when she heard her name called.
"Rose!"
She tried responding, but her throat was raw, and the energy her effort took was all she had left to offer. Rose Tyler collapsed into blissful, pain-free blackness.
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"Wha, wha's goin' on?" Rose asked, rousing into consciousness as she batted a hand away from her mouth.
"Shush, it's all right," the Doctor whispered, "but you've got to be quiet. Can you understand that, Rose?"
She nodded her head, comprehending the Doctor's meaning. Somehow he'd found her and freed her. She could feel his arms around her, and she knew he'd released her from the shackles, though she couldn't remember it happening. He held her as they both sat crouched on a hard cement floor, and she shivered, finally feeling safe. But she could see nothing - not even his hand in front of her face - and she began feeling the first tendrils of panic.
"Rose, it's all right, but you've got to be still. And quiet. They're out there," he whispered in her ear. "I'm going to get us out of here, but you have to remain calm." She felt him tense at the same moment she heard footsteps approaching; both stilled instantly, barely breathing and uttering not a sound.
Both she and the Doctor remained motionless, holding onto one another tightly as they listened to the men discussing their search for the missing prisoners. Rose's heart thudded against her chest; she recognized those voices. They were the awful men who'd taken pleasure in tormenting and hurting her. She closed her eyes tightly, wishing she could close her ears as well and simply will them to disappear. She buried her head against the Doctor's chest as he tightened his hold on her instinctively.
Then the voices faded, as did her thoughts, until the Doctor gently nudged her.
"Come on, Rose, we haven't got much time. Can you stand?" His voice was quietly urgent and she nodded her head against him, letting him know she could, she would: Anything to escape this bloody living nightmare.
She heard wood creaking and suddenly she saw light - not bright light, but the soft glow of the moon shining down upon her. She breathed in, recognizing fresh air and was feeling grateful for it until a stabbing pain tore through her chest, causing her to wrap her arms around herself protectively. That movement, in turn, caused a sharp pain down her left arm, which then brought her the benign numbness of unconsciousness.
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The Doctor opened the cellar door, looking around carefully for any signs of the Barcelonan soldiers, sighing his relief at seeing none.
Hearing Rose's sharp intake of air, he looked down at her, noting her distress immediately. Her eyes met his then, but he could see the emptiness in her gaze as she slumped into his hold. She was injured, and a right bloody mess on top of it. He'd have to clean her up to see the extent of her injuries, but before that could be done, he had to find them shelter. No way would he be able to get her back to the TARDIS before dawn and its light returned to this world, illuminating them clearly for the soldiers to see and perchance to capture again.
Lifting Rose into his arms, he climbed the few stairs out of the cellar and disappeared quietly into the woods, beginning his search for some sort of sanctuary. He had to find a place for them to stay until night approached again, when hopefully the darkness would remain their ally.
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Biting her lip, Rose suppressed the moan that crept up her gravelly throat, determined not to make a sound even though her pain was excruciating. She was moving, apparently not on her own, and her aching parts were being held too tightly as she was jostled around. But she had to be quiet, she remembered, though she couldn't quite recall why.
"Rose? You awake?" the Doctor asked, stopping his forward momentum to check on her. He could see she was closing her eyes tightly, but she did not answer him. "It's all right Rose," he assured her, "I've got you now. No one's gonna hurt you any more. I've got you," he reiterated, hoping to get through to her.
He began moving again, ignoring the ache in his arms and the worry in his heart. He could deal with them both later.
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The Doctor lay Rose gently on the dusty camp bed, thankful to have found what appeared to be an old hunting shed for their refuge. He thought this an ideal location, for the soldiers would be searching down the mountain for their escaped prisoners, figuring they'd head back to town. The Doctor, however, was up above them, heading in the direction of his beloved TARDIS.
The authorities would send aircraft out as daylight broke, so finding this tiny retreat had been his greatest accomplishment since rescuing Rose. It was well hidden and had obviously been unoccupied for some time, no doubt used only in the winter months when the need for scavenging wildlife arose.
He stared at Rose's prone form, letting his thoughts wander. They'd have to stay here until nighttime wound its way up again, but that was a small price to pay for the safety he was finally able to provide for Rose. And, if by some small miracle his luck held, the Doctor would have Rose in the TARDIS by this time tomorrow, making all this just a distant, painful memory.
As if in alignment with the Time Lord's thoughts, Rose moaned hoarsely as consciousness brought awareness of pain. The Doctor knelt beside her instantly.
"Rose? Can you hear me? How 'bout you wake up now. No time like the present. I just need to have a look at you, make sure you're all right."
She moaned a little more in response to his words, and her eyelids fluttered then finally opened.
"Rose Tyler," he beamed, gently brushing her hair back from her face. "I missed those eyes. Good to see 'em again."
"Doc- Doctor," she whispered, the effort obviously painful.
"Shh. Hold on a second," he said as he stood, running over to a sink in the corner. He pushed down upon the rusted handle several times, but it only moved a little, creaking in protest to his proddings. He closed his eyes a moment in concentration, then pushed down again, mustering up the extra strength he needed to force the handle down completely. Quickly lifting it and depressing it once more, he actually smiled when water began spitting from the pipe.
Letting the water flow until it was clear, he grabbed a towel that hung round the bottom of the pipe and rinsed it thoroughly, then let it soak in the running water as he searched the cupboards above him, finding a tin cup in desperate need of cleaning.
He began rinsing the mug as he looked behind him. "Still with me, Rose?"
He watched her nodding and sighed with relief, cutting off the water as he brought the filled cup and dripping towel toward her.
Setting the towel down on the table beside the camp bed, he knelt beside her and wriggled his arm beneath her shoulders, urging her head upward. Rose's eyes flew open widely at the sudden pain the movement caused, and a quiet sob escaped her dry lips.
"I'm sorry, Rose. But you need fluids. C'mon, try and drink some of this," he said gently as he brought the cup to her mouth. Rose sipped obligingly, turning her head slightly when she'd had enough.
"That's good," he told her, slowly lowering her head back down. "I'm gonna clean you up a bit and see how you're doin'. Is that all right?"
Again Rose nodded, already exhausted from the little movement involved in the simple act of drinking.
"You can sleep if you like. I'm just gonna check you over," he said softly as he brought the wet towel to her face.
Her eyes remained closed as he began washing the dirt and blood away, revealing cuts and bruises as his hidden anger grew. He was quietly furious; those bastard soldiers had obviously abused her far more than she'd probably ever admit to.
He began a cursory examination of her skull with his fingers, his touch gentle as he felt for any signs of fracture or swelling. Another sigh of slight relief escaped him when he found none.
He continued on with his knowledgeable fingers, feeling for broken bones from her bare feet on upward. There were several deep abrasions he found on her shins and knees, easily cleaned through the tears in her jeans. She'd been beaten, no doubt from the soldiers' attempts to make her reveal who she was and what her purpose was in coming to this world. The number of injuries he'd found only attested to her strength; she hadn't said a word, obviously.
He stood, his hand resting over her forehead for a moment before he took the few steps needed to rinse the towel of the filth he'd removed. They'd kept her for almost two days. Forty-one hours of torturous pain she'd endured until he was finally able to free himself and find her.
Walking back and sitting himself down beside her on the bed, the Doctor began feeling Rose's arms from fingertips to shoulders, again perceiving no broken bones as he gently cleaned the abrasions. He wished the sonic screwdriver were working; it would have given him an insight into the injuries to which her body had been subjected. But the cleverly useful instrument had been banged up during his struggles with his captors, and it wouldn't work properly again until he could repair it. He was grateful it had worked long enough to free himself and Rose, but now it was useless. At least he had medical knowledge where humans were concerned, though it hardly seemed enough at the moment.
The Doctor shook himself from his morbid thoughts as he placed his hands on Rose's hips, moving them upwards as he assessed her torso. Though she'd slipped into slumber, when his gentle touch revealed two broken ribs, her eyes opened wide, and another moan escaping her lips.
"Why didn't you tell me your ribs hurt?" he remonstrated mildly, more angry with himself than with her. "There I was, bouncin' you round through the woods, holdin' on tight. Probably makin' the pain ten times worse. Could've punctured a lung with me holdin' you like that." He dropped his head to her chest, pressing his ear lightly over various spots, listening to her breathing for a good minute and a half. "Sounds like we got lucky on that one," he grinned in relief when his eyes met hers. "How're you feelin'?"
"Okay," she croaked, her raspy reply a wonderful sound, causing him to smile ear to ear.
"Rose Tyler. You are such a good liar." He reached down to the foot of the bed, grabbing up the two blankets that lay there. "Think you can sit up? I can prop you up with these," he told her as he rolled them up. "Should help you breathe a little easier."
"Yeah."
The Doctor reached for her left arm, gently pulling her up, but stopped suddenly when she cried out in pain. Immediately his hand went between her shoulder blades until she was sitting, and he held her like that until he had the blankets positioned supportively behind her.
Gently he felt around her upper arm and shoulder, noticing her rapid breathing, though she didn't make a sound. "Dislocated. We're gonna have to get it sorted, and the sooner the better. Rose, look at me," he softly commanded. When she did as he said, he brought a hand to her cheek, rubbing it with comforting strokes. "This is gonna hurt. And I think you've been through enough already," he said, his other hand resting on her other cheek. His index fingers began stroking her temples. "Sleep, Rose."
Her eyes closed immediately, and her breathing evened out. This was something he had to do. She'd all ready endured far too much pain because of him.
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