Disclaimer: None of it belongs to me, it's Mr Moff you want to see if you want something decent :P (I thought i should put a disclaimer, I don't usually. I thought it was obvious I wasn't a BBC writer)
She's too dizzy to walk, so instead she sits by the road, eyes half shut and legs bent awkwardly to try and keep the heat in. It's freezing, but she's too tired to try and change that, so she sits and hopes that he'll find her.
He does.
He sweeps her up into his arms like she weighs nothing at all. One arm caught around her knees and the other around her shoulders. He manages it with such precision she's sure he must have done it before but the thought is lost in the haze before she can ask him. He steps carefully through the streets, so as not to jolt her. She rests her head on his shoulder, on his wonderfully scratchy, tweed-clad shoulder, and he kisses her hair.
He's running his hands up and down his arms, feeling the back of her head for bumps or cuts. She just wants to go to bed, to forget what happened. She wants to shut her eyes and shut out the universe with it, she'll deal with it in the morning. She's just so tired; she's barely managing to stay in the chair he sat her on. She winces; the Doctor's light fingers stop dead. And then, oh so gently, he moves her hair away. "Is it bad?" She manages to slur, he doesn't reply, he just stares, "Doctor?" He comes down next to her, sitting together on that impossibly large chair by the console. He wraps an arm around her protectively and she leans against him. Her eyes are shut but she can still feel his other hand gently stroking her hair,
"Don't ever do that to me again."
A/N: Yeah, its a bit short D: Summer appears to have sucked the writing juices from me, but I've promised to write at least three ficcy things, soo...maybe they'll increase in length, hopefully
I would LOVE it if you reviewed :D