Sorry about the late update. I've been tossing this back and forth with my beta to make it perfect. And I haven't been able to contact her to finish of the final touches. So if you see any grammar/ spelling mistakes I'm sorry. I'll replace this chapter once we've fixed the little things. I just wanted to give you guys something to cling onto. A huge thanks goes to everyone reading this story.
The Doctor isn't quite sure as to when the agony began. His usual grasp on time is slipping. It seemed that even the basic minutes were flowing further and further away from him. He'd always had such a solid hold of time, but now it was beginning to melt into a thin liquid - like water in his palm dripping out of the gaps between his fingers. His brain skipped to a pleasant image of actual water. It was like his own form of personal torture as his throat was burning with a fire that is turning his entire body into a baking sauna. Water would bring a quiet relief right now, but The Doctor knows that he's far from finding refuge from the goings on around him.
He feels uncomfortable in his own skin, and wants to wriggle and writhe right out of it. If only that were possible ... well there was that time when he went to a planet where a species of alien – rather podgy pink things that waddled – could literally jump out of their own skins. This however is a completely different kettle of fish. For one he's not a podgy pink thing – at least the last time he looked in the mirror he wasn't. Getting a little off topic now! It was just far easier for his brain to skip into random memories rather than putting up with the pain that was being inflicted on his body.
Every fiber of him is weighed down by an unbearable pain. Each hair on his head feels as though they're being pulled from their roots in his skull. This brings up a dull memory, filled with pain and confusion, and ... Rory.
Rory was still close by. Something deep within his brain is telling him that. Knowing your friend is perfectly fine and close by would have been comforting to anyone else. But to The Doctor, the mere thought of Rory being anywhere near this torture chamber frightened the hell out of him. More than the unknown creatures, more than his agony and the never-ending darkness threatening to swallow him whole.
His hearts ached, thumping a manic beat out against his caved ribs. His screams of pain were forgotten for a while. His mind was completely focused on Rory. He tried to reach out to his friend but under the current circumstances he found that every time he went to do so he hit a brick wall. This meant two things. One: he was tumbling into an even more panic ridden state. And two: tears were beginning to stab behind his now-too-heavy eyelids.
Now, The Doctor wasn't usually one for tears in dangerous situations. In fact it was the danger that he lived for. However it seemed that ever since he and Rory started traveling together, even since they'd shared two kisses maybe, that The Doctor's defenses had been ripped down. Rory's blurred image spilled into his mind. He looked so vivid, so joyful, but then Rory's eyes locked onto him and there was the pain; the pain The Doctor knew only too well. It was the pain of a mad man, a man that had lived for far too long, who had come so far yet lost it all. It was the pain that welled up within him with every day of his own existence. The Doctor was unable to control himself and quickly became aware of the sobs wracking through him in between his screams. He knew that the image of Rory couldn't be real but at the same time every sensor in his brain was telling him that it was. He tried glancing away but that didn't work. The image followed him. It made him feel so tiny and defeated, like a mouse that had fallen into a trap. "Stop, STOP! Please? " He was begging for mercy, praying to a God that he knew deep down didn't exist. "Please?" He tried again. He sounded pathetic and broken, and above all else: impossibly human. Because what's more human than being able to feel a thousand emotions all at once?
"As you wish." A nerve-breaking voice flew through the dark, scarily soothing despite it's ferocity.
The image of Rory melted away. It was a heart-stopping moment. So sad, so very sad, like the moment an ice cream starts to melt under the sun. "What do you want?" he choked.
"Your name."
That was a major blow to the hearts. His name: the one he'd been running away from for his whole life, the most powerful word in the entire history of the universe, the name that was buried in the cascade of Medusa herself. Even thinking about his name sent him into a world of petrifying fear. Even he couldn't predict what kind of power his name now held. All Timelord names held some power. A Timelord name was often plucked from the heart of time and space, but the problem with having that kind of power attached to a name was that people abused it, they quickly lost control of it. Every child of Gallifrey was given a initiation at the age of eight. They were taken to the untempered schism and their name was taken from them, tossed away like sand slipping away under a thick ocean of blue. Except when he'd been taken to be initiated he'd run - he can still remember how terrified he was at the prospect of giving a huge chunk of who and what he was away. As a result his name had grown, and was now impossibly ancient, and unpredictable.
His name was dark, like the darkness that clawed at his soul ...
His name was his soul.
His tongue felt heavy and uncomfortable in his mouth as the mash of syllables from his name threatened to resurface into his mind and on the tip of his tongue.
"Why?"
It seemed like a reasonable question. His name, though known by few, was extremely dangerous. In the wrong hands his name could destroy whole civilizations make stars crash and burn in the sky, wipe out the universe, make everything nothing but atoms and dust. These were definatley the wrong hands.
" Because Silence will fall when the question is asked Doctor." The reply was followed by a sound that could only be laughter. A sharp talon was placed right beneath his Adams apple, constricting his breath, " And we want silence. Your silence."
The Doctor laughed back humorously, despite the talon still pinned to his neck causing him crippling pain, "Ah I see I have you to thank for the attempts on my life then."
" The whole universe resents you Doctor. Not just us. It would be a relief to the universe. You've lived for far to long. Your name has festered in the stars for several millennias now, and people are starting to notice." The talon slid down his throat, skimming over his skin with a terrifying ease.
" What kind of people?" The Doctor asked."
" The wrong ones. Lets just say that dying is a far better option than what lays in wait for you now." If The Doctor didn't know any better he'd say that whomever was addressing him was scared for their life. Fear was a strange thing. It could make people do things, say things, act out of character. His mind began to drift away again. All he could think of was his companions and the fear he must have driven into them. For surely without that fear he embedded into their hearts they would all be alive right now, they wouldn't have followed him into his dangerous life, and they'd just be living normal human lives.
" Then why don't you just kill me now?" He questioned them.
Wouldn't things be so much better if he was dead? Perhaps they were right, whoever they were, perhaps he'd lived too long, perhaps it was time to die.
" What would be the fun in that?" Came the twisted reply.
The Doctor's jaw was forced to open. He tried to struggle but with little success. Something cold and metallic latched around one one of his teeth. The metal began to tug and the tooth gave a small jerk. He let out a strangled cry as a sudden bolt of pain rode through him. This was repeated a multiple of times. The Doctor lost count of the times he screamed. His gums were becoming inflamed and the pain was now reaching an almost unbearable level. The loud squelching sound of the tooth coming undone from the gum was unmistakable and the blood from the hole left behind in his gum pumped steadily out, swilling over his tongue. He instinctively swallowed and with repulse the blood trickled down his throat. In one way this was a relief. It quenched his thirst slightly. However the tangy taste of the liquid was making him feel even more nauseous.
More of his teeth became victim to the same torture. Though the pain hadn't gone away he was becoming more and more accustomed to it.
The Doctor blinked. Confused he tried to lift his head but found that he couldn't. He, though not willing to admit it, was weak, and weary. His body just as much as his mind was effected by the constant battle with the pain.
Whoever had been subjecting him to torture was now gone, much to his relief.
He must have passed out a while back because it seemed to him that hours has passed since his last bout of pain infliction. Though he can't be sure. He's not sure of anything anymore.
" Doctor?" The voice was familiar and oh so gentle.
He tried to speak but all that he could manage was a loud grunt. It was hard to speak with almost half of his teeth pulled out.
" Oh Doctor, what have they done to you?"
He felt something brush across his face. Fingers belonging to a tentative hand. He flinched and tried to escape it's feather soft touch. It was the first time since he'd come to this torture chamber that he'd been offered such a kind gesture, and that frightened him because that hand could belong to only one person. He took a deep breath and inhaled the brilliant smell of human.
" Rory?" He whispered, licking his dry and cracked lips.
"Yes, it's me." Came the soft reply.
No - it can't be him - it's just an illusion - like before - so real - yet not really real at all.
" Get out," The Doctor muttered bitterly.
"What?"
" You heard me, GET OUT!" He yelled so loudly that his lungs began to burn, as though acid had been poured into them.
" What - uh - oh god - Doctor - please just stop." Two arms wrapped around him tightly.
The Doctor decided that he much preferred the physical pain to this physic attack. It's too much - just too much.
The thumping of another heart besides his own two broke the illusion. People can be imitated, forced into minds like puppets on a string, they can touch, and to a certain extent are almost as good as the real thing, but this, this was different. Hearts cannot be imitated. Having a heart was too complicated for even the greatest minds to fake.
" R- ory?" He stuttered, half gasping for air, half forcing what little air he has in his lungs out.
" Yes it's me. You're alright now. Everything's going to be just fine." Those words are all that is needed for The Doctor to break because he knew that they were so far from the truth.
The tears fell, and his sobs broke freely.
He only stopped crying when his lips were taken away from his control.
Soft lips were on his, comforting him, caressing him in his time of need.
He didn't even have to think about the reason behind the kiss. He couldn't care less, because right now, right this minute, it's just him and Rory, huddling in the dark, with an endless stretch of time flowing outwards.
The Doctor came to a shocking revelation. He loves Rory. He wasn't quite sure what that meant for him, or for Rory, but he knows one thing. Where there's love there's hope.
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