Stay awake

Disclaimer: I don't own Dr Who or any of its characters or trademarks etc. This work of fiction is written for entertainment. I do not intend to profit from this.

Warnings: depression, suicide attempt, cutting, self harm

Pairings: Rory/ 11th Doctor friendship (though you can read into it as more if you want).

He felt the cool metal handle. His hand gripped the black metal handle and it effortlessly fit his grip. The cool metal a welcome relief...a distraction from his overwhelming emotions. For a moment he felt calm but even that was fleeting.

He was alone. So very alone. And in pain. And so very alone. The depth of his pain was too deep for words and even the tears blurring his vision could never sum it up. The lonely look he wore, usually kept behind a grin (but not his eyes) barely summed up the crushing feeling.

As if it was a force that surrounded him, squeezing so hard he could barely breath past his sobs. It never relented. Never left. Of course around others even he could barely get relief. Sometimes he felt a brief reprieve and he took it. That only ended up crashing his emotions hard. The wreckage left behind was barely worth the time to pick up. Still the lonely feeling choked him.

Still it would not let him die. Only suffer in agony.

So what would end his agony? He wished for a human touch...a kindness. Someone to take him a firm hug and not let go. Someone who would not care his tears were childish and really at 905 years, he had to put that behind him.

He could never trouble his companions, the dear Amelia and her roman, Rory.

His darkness could only hurt them. Such a happy pair needed no such thing. In fact he had to hide his pain so they would remain the innocent and strong couple they were.

Leaning against the yellow walls of his room, feeling the black fluffy carpet under his toes, he had to awknowledge a fact. He looked pathetic. The great timelord in a crying mess and curled up against his bed. His bowtie was hanging loose and even his jacket was disguarded in a heap on the floor.

He looked like a broken man.

And so he was. Ragety man. Just the tatters of what he was. What his race was. Could have been.

With a small smile he handled the blade again. He could. He should. He must.

So he did.

The blade ran easily into his skin. The blade ran easily into his arms. The blood ran freely and he did nothing to stop it. If this was his death, then it was just. To him – he had earned his right to die. To be free.

To those he had killed or harmed. Or stranded. It was a justice that he should give his life for his crimes.

The blade bit into his skin. The veins underneath tore and let loose his blood.

The pain was intense. Not unbearable. Well at first maybe but now it felt like pure pleasure.

He could breath. The tightness was lifted.

At the same time a fuzziness was taking over his vision. Physically he could feel his breaths slow yet emotionally he had never felt so alive. The pain was making him feel so very much. Yet he knew he had gone too far.

He felt his hearts race in an attempt to save his body. He felt his breaths slow until he was gasping. His focus grew weaker until he knew he was gone.

And that was it.

DWRWDWRWDWRWDWRWDWRWDWRWDWRWDWRWDWRWDWRWDWRWDWRW

Rory POV

I felt a strange tug at my mind telling me to wake. To follow. It sounded familiar yet I had no time to find out who it was (or what he mused).

I grabbed my medical bag I had started keeping with me on instinct. The strange creature approved.

After a few minutes I found a room with a tardis blue door. With worry I pushed open the door and gasp.

He lay on the floor barely moving. His chest rose slightly but otherwise he looked dead. He was deathly pale and unmoving.

Forcing my legs to move, I ran to his side. Checking his vitals I gasp again. His hearts were slow and his breathing weak. His arms were cut up and still bleeding. The carpet had a dark wet stain around him. I wrapped his arms and attempted to wake him.

His eyes opened and I stared into scared eyes. He was unfocussed. "Rory?" he slurred.

I swore loudly. How much blood was lost? "Yes its Rory. I need you to stay with me. Don't close your eyes or sleep. Focus on me."

He seems to understand.

He finds it difficult but at least he tries. I can't let him die. "Speak to me. About anything" I say.

He looks surprised. Still he speaks. "She was perfect. My human. I think she loved me. I think I loved her. Her smile was so happy. She could ask anything of me and I would give it. She taught me to live. Laugh. See the universe as it was. Wonderful."

I smile as I tend to him. The Doctor doesn't seem to mind me. Even as I give him a needle that the Tardis says will help him. He falls asleep and I relax. His vitals are okay now and the Tardis emits a conforting thankful hum.

I put him in bed and cover him in his blanket. Through my tiredness, I wonder who he was speaking about.

Now the wait till morning...

AN: As usual read and review.