So... last night I was bored and in need of prompting... so... viola! I searched Doctor Who writing challenges! And found the OTP Boot Camp Challenge in a forum! And decided to do it!

So... the pairing I'm going to be using for the 50 prompts is Doctor/Rose. The regenerations of the Doctor may vary, because I didn't specify... and no, that's not breaking the rules!

If you want to do the challenge, rules and prompts can be found here:

topic/116791/69289806/1/OTP-Boot-Camp-Challenge

The first prompt is Injustice. So here you go! Enjoy!

DISCLAIMER: Me. Do. Not. Own.

The Doctor always considered himself to be a fairly democratic person. He gave the enemies he fought a choice, always. They could live and let live, or he would have to destroy them, because there weren't enough good people in the universe to let be snuffed out, like a wet candle wick. There was always a sense of justice in his work, something to hold onto, to keep him sane, because he thought that if he didn't offer a choice, then he didn't have a choice. And then rage might consume him and it might be just like the Time War all over again, only this time, there wouldn't be an end, because the universe was ever growing and shrinking and changing and becoming more and more wonderful.

The Doctor kept mercy and compassion towards the front of his lists. He never killed to kill. He didn't kill at all if he could help it. It seemed very fair to him, very just. And so he didn't change his system, didn't change his rules.

Except for once.

Rose Tyler was screaming. He could hear her, and it hurt more than the various injuries that his own body sustained. A shockwave of pain for every noise that came from her mouth that wasn't expressing happiness or contentment rippled through his body. He wondered if that's why they were doing it. You could only torture a Time Lord's body so much before they retreated into their minds, their strongest and weakest points. One hit in the right place... he shuddered to think what would happen.

It didn't help that they had chained him to a wall. His wrists were fastened over his head, pulling his body upwards from the floor, though that did nothing to stop him from becoming limp and dangling like a fish on a hook. His head was bowed, his clothes in tatters and his shoes long gone. He didn't move, except for the occasional wince whenever a sharp scream permeated the silence of the prison.

Why were they there? He had thought about it and come to the conclusion that... he didn't remember. He didn't remember which memory was his last, because they were all sort of jumbled together while his mind frantically worked to solve the problem of getting both he and Rose out of there alive.

That was the one and only good thing about Rose's screams, he supposed. He had proof that she was alive. Unless it was just another memory, an imprint on his fading consciousness... no. Rose Tyler was alive, and she would stay that way.

The Time Lord's mind raced around in circles, working out various answers to his questions and recalculating the results. Fragments of past memories and thoughts swirled about in a violent stream, his mind being the only physical place he was aware of at the moment, or had been aware of for a long time... or not. His time sense was impaired. They could have been in the prison for hours or days or weeks or months or years and he wouldn't be able to tell until they got the hell out of there. His mind worked faster, a solution almost guaranteed to succeed coming to light. His eyes opened. The world of his consciousness disappeared, replaced with the dark, dank cell and the screaming of Rose.

For the first time in days, the Doctor moved.

And for the first time in years, he did not offer a choice.

When Rose Tyler woke up, she was warm and comfortable and feeling very floaty.

She opened her eyes, the familiar sight of the TARDIS infirmary greeting her. She tipped her head to the side, ignoring the strange weightless feeling it gave her.

The Doctor was sitting by her side, head in his hands. His hair was all over the place and matted with dried blood. His jacket had been tossed onto the floor, torn, bloody, and dirty. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing nasty looking bruises and deep cuts on his arms. His entire body seemed ultimately smaller than she remembered, slumped in his chair in what seemed like despair or maybe just exhaustion. Rose couldn't see his face, but she guessed it looked about as beat up as the rest of him. His shoulders moved up and down as he breathed deeply and rhythmically. He was trembling.

Rose sat up in bed. Fighting off a wave of nausea, she threw back the sheet that was covering her to inspect her own injuries. She could see bruises speckling her arms and legs. She noticed that her right wrist was bandaged, but for what reason, she didn't know. Her forehead bore large gauze pad tapped above her eye. Other than that, she felt pretty good. That is, until she swung her legs around to get out of bed and stood up too fast, blood rushing to her head and causing her to sit back down heavily with a groan.

The Doctor stirred beside her. His head slowly came up from his palms and Rose had to hold back a gasp. He looked like he hadn't had any sleep in weeks. His left eye was swollen shut and a dark shade of purple. He had a cut on his cheek that still seemed to be bleeding, slowly making it's way down his face. His pupils were very large and very unfocused and his lips were cracked and bloody.

"Rose?"

"Doctor," she said simply, taking his hands in hers. "What happened to you?"

"Same thing that happened to you," he croaked, lifting her hands up towards his face. "Don't you remember?"

"Well, we went to that one planet, I can't remember the name of it. And we were accused for assassinating..." She scrunched up her nose, trying to remember. "... the ambassador of Evebasu, which we obviously didn't do. Is that right?"

The Doctor looked at her tiredly. "That's more than I remember."

"Oh." Rose gazed around the room. "We are in the TARDIS, right?"

He nodded.

"How did you escape?"

Immediately, the one eye that wasn't swollen to twice it's size and impossible to open had hardened, closing off the Doctor's mind and baring his face of emotion. The look was deep, dark, cold and calculating and Rose hoped above all hopes that she would not have to see that look ever again.

"I ran," the Doctor said simply. "They didn't catch me." He took his hands from Rose. "And they won't ever try again."

Seconds later, it was like his strings had just been snapped. His breath was let out in a loud, pained gasp, his eyes filled with pain and he sank into Rose's waiting arms.

She held him for a long time, just sending him comfort through her warm grasp. She was sure he got some of it, because he relaxed more and more, until his breathing was slow and even and he was the one sleeping on the bed and in need of care.

Rose settle him gently under the sheets and began to look around for medical supplies to tend to his wounds.

They had reached the eye and the Oncoming Storm had been temporarily distracted from it's path of destruction, something not commonly seen. But it was only a matter of time before something would snap the carefully constructed dam.

And everyone knows storms are not merciful in the least.

Well there you have it! Prompt numero uno!

Review?

Prompt #2: Unmasked.