Title; Pain.
Author : JForward
Summary: Contains self abuse. The Doctor muses on what's happened to him since his change and hates himself for it. Don't read if you want a happy Doctor Who story. It goes all dark and angsty and descriptive. That's why it has a high rating.
Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who. Don't self harm.
He used to like noise. Loved the sound of his own voice, the sound of Rose's, just… noise. Humans and animals, birds tweeting, cats meowing, endless, pointless chat. Just loved the sound of it. Just life. The endless, pointless drabble of words that made up life. He used to love to run in the bright light with Rose, dance on the brightly-lit disco floors when she dragged him off to some party or other, just brightness, hopefulness, happiness.
Now he was different. Transformed in more ways than one. Wanting silence all the time, wanting to hear nothing, all the noise too much in his over sensitive state. He had always had strong senses before, a trait of the Time Lords, so many more senses, telepathy, time abilities, so much. So much stronger than a humans. But now his blood was changed, thanks to a bite and a scientist. He would shirk away from the light, haunting the shadows of his ship, the lights down low so as to create deep shadows in which he could sit and just watch.
More than once he found himself dreaming of hunting, catching fresh meat with powerful lycanthropic jaws. On one occasion the dream had been so vivid he had transformed and had trouble gaining control and changing back. He was scared, oh so scared. He hid away in his room, the lights out, everything tinted bluish. He could see, so much clearer, and clearer still when approaching a full moon.
But he was so scared. So scared. Because he recognised, in a way, what was happening. What was changing. He hid away from the world, in the dark, in the silence, avoiding people, trying to avoid fear and anger. Because he knew. On every transformation he began to enjoy it more, enjoy the feel of running, wind whipping through his fur, ultimate power… he shivered. The covers of his bed ruffled noisily as she stood, switching off the light before picking something up off his cabinet and sitting in the corner of his room, in the shadows.
The knife glinted darkly in the room, invisible to all except the Doctor's eyes. He closed his eyes, breathing in deeply, not knowing why he was doing this to himself, or what would happen to him. He rolled up the sleeve of his right arm, looking at the bare pale flesh… so weak, so easily damaged. The knife pressed down, the point just piercing, a single drip of blood showing. He changed the angle, and brought the knife sliding smoothly across the skin, wincing in pain. Blood dripped from the knife onto the floor, staining the blue carpet.
He took a deep breath, feeling something rise up inside him, just for a second, wanting to destroy, the power to kill whatever caused this pain. But this pain wasn't strong enough. Hating himself, hating his want to be a lycan, hating the new found joy from transformation. Fearing for his sanity; fearing for Rose… just scared and angry. The two things that made him change, love it even more, fear and hate it, in an endless circle.
The knife seared his flesh again, and he breathed in deeply, that longing rising up inside him. Once more, his arm dripped blood, staining his carpet, ruining his. his breathing was deep and hoarse, desperation obvious. The lycan in his mind was doing this to him. He stood, pressing himself against the wall, and swallowed hard. He couldn't keep doing this, he couldn't keep putting Rose in danger. He swallowed hard again, putting the knife to his neck, ready to use up this regeneration. Find if he was still a lycan. And if he was, he would use up the last two regenerations. The knife pressed harder against his throat, and he closed his eyes, willing the lycan down, to not transform before he had a chance to do this.
"Doctor?" Rose's concerned voice came through the door as the handle was pressed down and the door swung open. The light clicked on as the Doctor froze, distracted, losing his focus on preventing his transformation from arising. The knife hit the floor with a clatter as he stumbled away, his hand gripping one of the posts of his four-poster bed. Rose gasped, looking from the knife on tee floor, to the Doctor's face and his slashed wrists. She rushed over to him, terrified, staring into his eyes. "Why did you do it, Doctor?" she breathed at him. He stared at her, brown eyes wide. He was trembling, but she hadn't worked out why.
He mouthed, trying to speak, but no words came. He closed his eyes and then snapped them open, looking at her, willing her to understand. She then saw his trembling double, and he slid to his hands and knees, her cupping his head into her hands. "Doctor, you can fight it off, it's different to the forced ones. Come on, Doctor!" He smiled at her, a half-maddened grin. "But I love it" he whispered, and she backed away, mouth open in shock.
He was shuddering like, mad, but she could see the longing in his eyes as he urged the transformation on. Not knowing what else she could do to help, she tugged his jacket off as his jaw cracked loudly, reshaping, and managed to get his top off. His back cracked loudly, which hadn't happened before, or rather, she hadn't heard it before. He had always been yelling in pain before, but now, he was silent, his breathing short gasps, enjoying every second of the transformation, despite the pain. Once again, she didn't get his trousers off in time; but this wasn't his brown jacket. It was a black one, a black suit with a red tie, one he had taken to wearing a lot instead of his old one.
The trousers tore away and she backed away, leaving the top and jacket and tie where she had dropped them. He was almost laughing; she could see it, as he transformed, cracks echoing around his room. His jaw grew outwards, his ears growing too, thick fur sprouting all over his body. Long nails tore away the carpet as he bulged out in size, growing larger and stronger, and his tail emerging with several cracks. The wounds on his arm sealed up.
He turned towards her with a snarl, and he blinked, his eyes changing from the Doctor's brown into a wolfish yellow, out of control. He snarled, and began to lunge. She turned and fled, begging the TARDIS to help her. She knew, from what the Doctor had told her, it required getting blood of his or his saliva into her bloodstream to transform her, so a scratch would be unlikely to do that if seen to immediately.
She ran as fast as she could, hearing the pounding of feet behind her, hoping the TARDIS would help her. The TARDIS did. She entered a room and slammed the door behind her, but found it was a room with only one door- the Doctor's bedroom.
She guessed the TARDIS was rearranging the rooms, to stop him from getting her, but suddenly there was a pounding on the door. Claws scraped against wood and Rose backed against the wall, watching as the wood splintered and the wolf burst through the doors. It barred its teeth, yellow eyes gleaming. She wondered what had happened to the Doctor to change him like this.
She closed her eyes and heard his leap, and felt the smash into her chest as the wolf hit her and she was down, his weight on her, claws digging into her as he moved to bite her- there was a loud whine of pain, and she felt the Doctor get off of her. She opened tentative eyes, sitting up to watch the Doctor whimper with pain, looking at his badly damaged paw. The acorn necklace had protected her once again!
The Doctor thrashed his head wildly, eyes becoming brown again. He staggered and sagged to the floor. Rose went to him, sitting down and pulling his head onto her lap, stroking the fur back on his ears. He made a little noise like a 'hrr'. "Did you just hrr?" Rose asked him, confused. He blinked up at her, shifted and then yelped, jumping away. There was a deep slash in his chest, and she realised he had lain on the knife. He began to cough, a little blob of blood landing on the carpet, and his eyes closed, sinking to the floor.
Rose moved over to him, after taking the knife and putting it on a high shelf. She stroked his fur for about five minutes before he reverted back to his human form. She took the cover off his bed and wrapped him up in it, fighting the urge to cry. She would take him to a different room; this one was soaked in blood. She found a sort of cart nearby; TARDIS help again.
Just managing to lift him into it, she tucked the pillow under his head and tugged the cart along until she got to the room next to hers. She decided to leave him wrapped up in the cart in her room, and sat watching his white face. Once again, the necklace had saved her. She washed the claw marks, hoping she wasn't infected.
Oh, Doctor. What's happened to you…?