Eventually, Rory and Amy come to the rescue. Lots of hurt!Doctor and cuddling, please, but I'd prefer no straight-up sex. (Although emphasizing the sensual-ness of their bodies and minds touching would be awesome!)
It's been weeks...or perhaps hours. He isn't sure. He can't think, can't do much of anything. He feels nothing, not a surface beneath him nor an air current keeping him afloat. There is no sound, or perhaps there is and he can't hear it and when he thinks his eyes are open (he can't be sure) there is nothing but black. There is no smell and no taste and no time. There is nothing and it's absolutely killing him.
The Doctor, when he's conscious (or at least thinks he is) knows he will go insane. He needs touch to function, needs stimulation both physically and mentally. He sometimes thinks of Amy and Rory and tries to summon the energy to move. He isn't sure if he succeeds. He tries counting in his head but gets lost after two. Drugged, maybe, though perhaps he's just lost more sanity than he thought.
He's just about to try biting through his cheek in an attempt the center himself when the world explodes into white light and fire, fire-his skin is burning, his mind is burning. Everything hurts. "Oh god, Rory! He's here! Quick help me!"
There is splashing, faint slashing that barley breaks through his agony clouded mind. He's only aware of his two companions hoisting him out of the sensory deprivation tank because the pain where they touch him is even worse than the unimaginable agony of everything else.
Someone's screaming and it takes a long moment for him to realize it's him. He thrashes once against the arms holding him before passing out.
It's two days later when he comes to in the med bay. Everything hurts. Not the mind-ripping agony of earlier but a rather painful sting spanning every inch of skin. It's manageble.
"Doctor?" Someone speaks and his ears ring. "Oh, sorry." They whisper and he realizes it's Rory sitting beside him.
"Rory." He mouths, unsure if sound comes out.
"It's okay, don't speak." Rory leans over him to turn the sound from his heart monitor off. "You were in a sensory deprivation tank for nine days, Amy and I found you after we broke out of prison. I'm pretty sure the water you were soaking in was drugged or poisoned, Amy got really sick for a few hours after we got you out-she's fine though."
The Doctor keeps his eyes closed and breath shallowly through his nose. His senses are all painfully heightened. "You were malnourished so I started an IV, I...wasn't sure what else to do."
The Doctor takes a slow, deep breath that burns in his throat. "You did splendidly, both of you. Where's Amy?" His sentence is more voice-breaks than syllables but Rory understands.
"She's in the next room, sleeping. She's been sitting at your bedside for the last two days, after she stopped vomiting and washed."
The Doctor tries to nod but decides it's too painful. "Painkillers." He croaks.
"I wondered, I wasn't sure. Morphine okay?"
"Yes, fine. Double dose, please."
Rory switches his IV neatly with practised ease, barely intensifying the steady burn of the Doctor's skin. He feels better almost immediately. Two heart, drugs pump through him twice as fast.
Rory pours a glass of water and has the Doctor sip at it through a straw. "Go back to sleep, Doctor, you'll feel better when you wake up."
The Doctor doesn't want to sleep. He wants to check on Amy, fly the TARDIS, maybe blow something up but as soon as Rory suggests sleep he's overcome with sudden weariness.
Rory throws the empty syringe of sedative into the medical waste disposal.
The Doctor does feels a little better when he wakes, though only a little. His skin no longer burns and he can half open his eyes but as soon as he sits up he vomits violently. "Ugh."
He's wiping his mouth on the back of his hand when Amy comes in and smiles. "You look like death, Raggedy Man."
She doesn't look too crash hot either, but he thinks it would be rude to say so. So he asks, "Where's Rory?"
"In bed, I've just had to wrestle him to get him to go. Here give me that." She takes the bucket of sick from him, glad it's mostly water and washes it down the sink. "You need a bath."
"No!" He says, panicked, and then he sighs. "No bath. Shower. Please."
Amy smiles understandingly and walks over to him. "Okay, shower. Will you be able to manage on your own?"
"Should do, just help me get to the bathroom?"
Amy removes his IV with gently, clumsy hands, making him wince only a little. She loops an arm under his armpits and helps him out of bed, tutting about how skinny he is, making lame jokes that make him smile.
It's only when she tries to deposit him on the toilet to turn the shower on that he realizes how nice she feels against him. He resists the urge to grab her hand and pull her against him so he can bury his face in her hair because he knows he must smell awful. But good God does he want to.
His mind still feels fuzzy and he knows it's because he needs physical interaction. The skin to skin contact of hugs and kisses is enough to stimulate his synapses into working order but it can wait.
Or not, he thinks as Amy's fingers graze his ribs, pulling his shirt over his head. Rory's shirt- he realises vaguely. "Amy..."
"Yeah Doctor?" Amy's rutting about in the cupboard, pulling out soap and shampoo. The Doctor takes a breath and closes his eyes.
"I need you to..."
She looks at him and comes to kneel between his legs, not seeming to notice how bad he smells, or perhaps not caring. "What is it Doctor? What do you need?"
"I need you to hug me."
"Oh. Yeah. 'Course Doctor."
Amy wraps her arms gently around his shoulders. He rests his head against her chest and smiles. "Thanks."
Neither pull away until Amy's back begins to ache. She pulls away and the Doctor makes a noise of displeasure. "Come on, shower. I'll get in with you."
He frowns and she rolls her eyes.
"I won't look. Besides I need to scrub your back."
When she's done scrubbing his back and washing his hair and making sure she doesn't look anywhere embarrassing she helps him dry himself and pulls him to her bedroom. "You can borrow some more of Rory's clothes since I don't know where your closet is."
"Okay."
"Here, put these on while I get dressed."
"Okay."
"You alright?" She steps close to him and looks into his eyes. He nods.
"Yes, I think I just need some more physical contact, it helps with my brain signals."
She looks sceptical even as she smiles and pulls a t-shirt over his head. "Go get into bed with Rory. He won't mind."
As soon as he slips into the bed Rory's arms wrap around him and pull him close. It's so nice that when Rory murmurs "Amy," he just sighs sleepily and responds with,
"No. Doctor."
Rory either doesn't hear him or doesn't care because he nuzzles closer and kisses the Doctor's shoulder. Amy smiles at them and pulls the covers back on the Doctor's other side. When she's settled snuggly against his back with her arms around his waist she whispers. "Do you feel better?"
He turns his head slightly to look at her, not even minding when their lips brush together. "Yes," He smiles. "A lot better."