Fear

A Doctor Who Fan Fic
By Ahn-Li

Summary: Set between in that little area in "The Doctor's Daughter" when the Doctor takes Martha home, only goes a bit AU from there when the stresses of Messaline causes old injuries to flare up in the aging Doctor.

Note: Will likely head off into AU-land by the extreme. Deals with a little known canon fact that the Doctor has an extremely weak heart, likely his right if you judge by the pattern that has developed since the 3rd Doctor, although it can be argued that since The Shakespeare Code that his left is now damaged... and I'm leaning on that. I'm not intending to really make this a long one either. Just a real guilty pleasure ;)

Disclaimer: Am not making any money from this. Like I've stated, my addiction is likely putting who ever actually owns the rights to Doctor Who kid's through college... Legacy will be updated soon, I promise. I just needed a bit of 10th-whump as a break, lol.

CHAPTER ONE

Donna and Martha followed him silently, but he was aware of their glances to each other. He wasn't aware of how much older he probably suddenly looked. The youth he had with Rose, and even Martha, had melted mostly away in the Year That Never Was, but if the bone-crushing fatigue was anything to go by it had gone completely.

He felt very much the fictional age he had given, that much and more. Likely closer to his true age... if he could remember it. He felt old. Before, when he had blithely given the age of 900 to Rose he had felt closer to that younger number, but now he felt he should add a zero to the count. Likely was his age. Maybe. He felt it. Jenny had taken some of that away once he'd grown to love her.

His chest tightened again and he felt tears. No. No, he wouldn't cry. Time Lords didn't cry and he wouldn't now.

The Doctor opened the double doors and silently walked to the pilot seat. Donna followed, sitting beside him in silent comfort while Martha closed the doors. With a flick of a switch they were gone from Messaline and he swore he would never, ever, come back. Again, there was a pained twitch in his chest.

Heartsbreak sucked, to borrow the turn of phrase.

"I'm going to travel with that man forever," said Donna as she walked with Martha down the street.

The Doctor watched them go, and felt the twinge again, only now it was more localized. Right side of the chest, shooting down the right arm. Radiating out. Not simple heartsbreak and grief. He numbly tried to cry out to Martha or Donna, but it came out a strangled croak instead. Oh no. Not like this.

His vision had holes now, and was rapidly becoming tunnel like. He knew Martha and Donna were no more than ten paces away, but they seemed hundreds away. The Doctor lifted one arm... and the blackness swallowed him.

Martha didn't know why she turned around midway. Maybe it was to see if he was watching and to smile in his direction. But when she did she had the sickening sensation of dread as she watched him slide bonelessly down the side of the TARDIS to land in a heap in front of the doors. Donna followed her glance, and froze in horror at the sight.

They both ran to him then. Martha rolled him over onto his back. "Doctor! Doctor, can you hear me?" she called as she checked him over.

No signs of injury, but his pulse was wrong. It was a thready beat and seemed out of sync, weak. As she held his wrist she could feel it falter, and then fall to a human-like double beat, but even this wasn't good. Martha knew it meant one of his hearts had just stopped. "Donna, call UNIT, tell them to get a medical suite ready and an ambulance here, now. Tell them I authorized it and tell them that if they don't hurry their Code Nine is going to die. Move!"

Donna rushed back into the TARDIS where she had her cell phone and she could hear Donna talking in a hurry to someone at UNIT. Martha concentrated on the Doctor as she felt one side of his chest, then the other. Right side. It was his right side that had stopped. The left was still working but only just. He was, thankfully, still breathing, but shallowly and in faltering breaths. Martha began CPR and was rewarded with a weak beat from that side. She rubbed his chest in soothing circles. There wasn't much else she could do without a full crash kit or an ambulance. "You're going to be fine, Doctor, just breathe," she soothed. "But opening your eyes would help me, yeah?"

His eyelids fluttered and he opened his eyes a bit. "Wha?"

"Doctor!" Martha exclaimed. "Tell me how you're feeling."

"Sore. Tired," he answered. "Sleepy."

"Don't go to sleep yet," she ordered. "Where is the pain?"

"Chest," he murmured. "Arm."

Martha felt her own heart freeze at that. If a Time Lord was like a human then that meant... "Can a Time Lord have a heart attack?"

"... yes... had one... in seventh incarnation. Before that... third... same side... as this... think I'm having another one. For some reason... regenerating doesn't help..." he answered brokenly, and his eyes started to droop. "Martha..."

"Don't go to sleep on me, stay with me, keep talking," she ordered. "Tell me why regenerating won't help so I know what to expect."

"Need significant cardiac strength to survive it..." he answered dreamily. "... to even initiate... no cardiac strength no regeneration. And each one after weakens the hearts until finally the regenerations run out... usually around 12. Haven't... seen... more..."

He was fading, but thankfully she could hear helicopters in the distance - heavy ones, maybe military - coming closer. "Donna tell me that's UNIT I hear!"

Donna came out, a bag in her hand of his things that she could grab. "They said it'd be by airlift to the Valiant. They have a full medical suite for xeno-medicine on board and specialists. There's a doctor there who evidently knows the Doctor..."

Martha nodded. "Hear that? Help is on the way, don't leave us yet."

He was already unconscious again. Martha monitored, ready to resume CPR if he needed it. Thankfully he didn't, but his breathing was getting more erratic each passing second. A smaller, but still painted in military colours, helicopter landed in the street as the others circled above, dropped off personnel. Martha realized it was likely to seal off the area. The Doctor meant the TARDIS, and the TARDIS was not something UNIT wanted to fall into the hands of Torchwood. They couldn't know about Jack, or the friendship, but they knew enough of Torchwood to know that the Doctor and Torchwood did not get along.

UNIT paramedics ran with a stretcher and crash kit and knelt by the Doctor's side. Martha knew from working with UNIT that the Doctor was somewhat of a legend in their ranks. They all wanted to meet him but dreaded the day they did. Martha swallowed. Wasn't exactly the greatest meeting for them to see their hero fallen on the streets of London, downed by a heart attack.

She moved out of their way, and held onto to Donna. She was a doctor herself, but she was also too close to this to be impartial. She watched instead, choosing to reassure Donna and herself that it was going to be okay. He would be fine. He was strong.

The paramedics checked him over, announcing a blood pressure that was strange to Martha, and she realized she had no idea if it was normal for him or not. She knew the pulse rate they announced was not, and neither was the respiration or oxygen level in his blood when they clipped the monitor over his left index finger. They gently lifted the Doctor off the cold pavement and onto the stretcher. When the paramedics moved aside for one second Martha and Donna could see the oxygen mask already over his nose and mouth, inter-venous drip in his right hand. They covered him to his chest with a rough wool blanket and strapped him securely to the stretcher. He was tied down, but it was to keep him from falling off in transit. They then raised the sides. "There's a transport being sent for his ship," said one paramedic. "Are you coming with him, ma'am?"

Martha nodded and dragged Donna along. Once they were in the helicopter and the headsets on, she asked, "What's in the IV?"

"Saline to keep him hydrated. Noticed he was a bit dehydrated as well. Morphine for the pain. A blood thinner that he can handle - and a heart regulator. It appears to be helping," said the senior most paramedic. "He's still critical, but at least he should be comfortable."

And out to lunch with all the drugs in his system, she mused. She explained this to Donna. "The morphine will likely keep him down, make him rest and relieve the pain. The rest is to make sure his hearts stay doing what they're supposed to be doing."

"When will he wake up?" asked Donna, the fear still in her eyes.

"Not for awhile. He's critical, but stable for now," reassured Martha. "As I said, the morphine will see to that. His blood oxygen levels are already coming up. He's doing better already, but he's got a long recovery ahead of him."

They still rose until finally they spotted the Valiant. The helicopter landed on the pad and a team of people came to the door as it was slid open. Martha recognized them as other doctors and nurses. The stretcher hit the tarmac and was already being taken away to their medical suite and Martha and Donna raced to keep up.

Martha stopped where it clearly said medical personnel only, and hugged Donna. It would have been so easy to flash her own ID and walk through those doors, but she already knew she was too close to this. Even if UNIT didn't, she knew she was. The best thing to do was to stick with Donna and keep Donna from going insane with worry. If Martha left, Donna would be alone. Martha knew that alone would only cause more heart ache and stress to an already stressful situation.

So they waited together.

Martha had dozed off with Donna in a chair when she heard the doors open. An older man, a doctor, came out and headed straight for them. "Donna and Martha?" he asked.

"That's us," said Martha as she nudged Donna awake.

The other woman stood. "How is he?" asked Donna.

"Sleeping. I won't lie, it was close. I didn't realize how much he needs those two hearts of his, but evidently if one fails, he's all but a goner. He can survive a bit longer than a human can on just the one, but without medical intervention..." this doctor trailed off. "Forgive me, I'm Dr. Harry Sullivan."

"Dr. Martha Jones, and Donna Noble," introduced Martha.

Dr. Sullivan's eye brows rose a notch. "Why weren't you in there with us?"

"Too close, and that would have meant leaving Donna alone," answered Martha.

"Good call," he nodded in agreement. "He had a full right sided cardiac arrest, and the left was not far behind. From what I can see there was previous damage to his right side, I'm guessing he had another one, maybe two. His left shows previous damage as well, but not as much. Now, though, he's going to have to be careful. I'd tell him to stop traveling and getting into trouble, but it follows him around anyway, so there's no point. However, when he wakes up I'm going to advise him to not chase it actively, maybe even take a rest for a few months on Earth. He's going to need it anyway. Surprisingly, he's in good health otherwise. No signs of clogged arteries or the like. Just the damage from stress."

"Well, he's always been a bit high-strung," admitted Martha.

"Well, that needs to come to an end," stated Harry. "I don't know how successful we'll be but he needs to chill the hell out. Starting now."

"Can we see him?" asked Donna.

"Yes, of course," answered Harry gently. "Don't expect conversation. We added another medication to his lines, and he's very deeply asleep. He woke up for a minute when we moved him into his room, and into his bed off the stretcher. Wasn't awake enough to understand where he was, much as I tried to get an answer out of him. If he wakes, I expect he'll be the same way, I'll get a nurse to you take there, Ms. Noble... Dr. Jones, I'd like to talk to you for a minute."

Martha felt her stomach drop as she was pulled aside. "How bad is it really?" she asked once Donna was out of ear shot.

"Bad," answered Dr. Sullivan. "As in, much I believe the universe needs its Doctor, that the Universe can get on with it on its own from now on because it will have to. He keeps going, he's dead inside a year. It's as simple as that. And from what I've read up on him, regenerating is out because it simply depends on the strength of those two hearts to power it. Heart issues means no regenerating. If he retires he lives... and even then it won't be with that same energy. I don't think he'll take that very well."

Martha nodded in agreement. "You're right there. If he retires, and if for some reason he needs to regenerate..."

"He might be able to, he might not. I don't know," shrugged Harry. "But, I've seen more than one Time Lord in my time to know that he can live for centuries, if not longer, on one regeneration alone. From what I understand, and I could be wrong, regenerating doesn't extend their actual life span, they'd live the same amount in one or in many. If anything, given what they need to do and the trauma of a regeneration, my guess is that it actually shortens it. I don't know though. I'm not a Time Lord, nor do I happen to have one... other than the one sleeping under the weight of all the medication... to ask."

"So, when he's awake and strong enough to hear it, I get to kick the carpet out from under him."

"I'm sorry, Dr. Jones... I truly am," said Harry.

"I... I think I need to see him myself now."

"Of course, I'll take you."

Martha moved silently into the room where Donna sat by the bed. The Doctor was in a modified ICU and it was thankfully private. She knew that an individual ICU was usually private, but one never knew in a military installation. Martha moved the fringe of his hair out of his eyes, her hand lingering on his face. He still had a oxygen mask over his nose and mouth and she could see the mask cloud with his breath as he slept.

He was so pale she could see the small veins in his eyelids. So still, if not for the sound of the heart monitor and the small rise and fall of his chest and the clouding in the mask that she might have mistaken him for dead. The Doctor looked fragile and weak. Donna looked at Martha and she could see the forced mask. "That bad?" said Donna, seeing it on her face.

Martha nodded.

Donna looked back down at his face, barely holding herself together. "Oh."

"He'll be fine," began Martha. "But... he has to retire. Now... or he won't continue to be fine for much longer. This was a gentle warning."

"Gentle, huh?" snorted Donna. "Hate to see... oh... I get it. Yeah, I suppose it's gentle. The Ood warned him his song was ending. I see what they mean now. No wonder he was so spooked."

They sat there with him in silence then.

Sleep was like a too heavy, but yet comfortably warm and thick blanket over his senses. The pain had taken him by surprise, especially considering he knew what it meant. Time meant nothing. When the heavy sleep lifted just enough for him to hear little snippets of life around him he was aware of how much time passed. But only then. All other times it was as if he had simply blinked and missed the events that surrounded him.

He was aware of Martha once... begging him not to sleep... of the cold pavement underneath him and the all encompassing pain. And then nothing. Shortly after, when the paramedic had lifted his eyelids to run the light of a penlight to test response he had come to with the annoying pain of too much light to the retinas, the contrary thud-thud sound and whine of jet engines, and the sensation of being lifted... and then nothing.

His time sense told him when, an hour or so later, he had been moved from the confining stretcher to a bed and he had come to with all the poking and prodding... and the embarrassment of being stripped down to literally nothing only to be dressed in a hospital gown. Something cold had slid into his vein then and awareness had faded. Before it faded completely he had opened his eyes to see... Harry Sullivan?... and he was confused, but he didn't have time to contemplate it other than relief that if he had to be taken care of like an invalid at least it wasn't a perfect stranger before the heavy blanket of sleep descended and took it all away again.

Now he could feel the weight but was aware of it. He could hear murmurs. Feminine murmurs. Familiar. Somehow... as well as another, male, also familiar. Only one was out of place in the jumble that was his thoughts as he tried to draw everything together. He heard someone moan, and he could barely see... Rassilon, things were blurry... Martha as she leaned over him from what seemed so far away. "He's waking up."

Martha was replaced by Harry. "Doctor, can you hear me?" asked Harry.

The Doctor? Yes, that was who he was. He tried to answer but heard that person moaning again. It didn't even occur to him that it was him doing the moaning. "Sorry, old friend, but I think you need to sleep more..." came Harry's voice.

Again, something cold and sharp slid into his arm. Moments later, sleep was too heavy a pull to be ignored. At least the moaning had stopped...