A/N: This is another scenario of writing a couple chapters together, but this time I actually split them up. So it looks like I'm ultra productive by updating again! It's a lie. I am not.
Also special shout out to Summer Rosewood. Y U AWAIZ GEST MODE. Thank you anyway dove :D
"Hello?" A hushed voice jolted me from my nap. And reminded me very suddenly why you shouldn't try to sleep with your neck bent over the back of a chair.
Ow.
My eyes adjusted and informed my foggy brain, that there wasn't anyone in the room. Had I imagined it? Maybe this was the part of the trip where I lost my mind. Bound to happen sooner or later. Actually, I'm impressed it had held out as long as it had. All I needed was one last little push to send me reeling-
"Is anyone there?"
No. Definitely heard it that time. It was hushed because it was a whisper. And it was coming from the wall.
…
The walls were whispering to me. That's probably a bad sign.
No. Wait. False alarm. A red light flashed against the wall to my right, just beyond the cot. Not going crazy, it's an intercom. That was more of a relief than it should have been. I hopped up, trying to ignore the dull pain that throbbed in my leg with each movement. There were a few buttons below the intercom, and a switch.
Um. How the hell do you work something like this? I flipped the switch up and heard a hiss.
"Uh, hey-" Feedback shrieked in my face and I pulled back, trying to talk quieter. "Um. I'm here?"
"Fitz?" Ailla. But she sounded different.
"Yeah, it's me. What's up?"
"Tell the Doctor. They're in the lower levels. The walls of the TARDIS, she's still fluctuating." That difference that I heard before? That was fear. My stomach tightened unpleasantly. "Few of the clever bastards got through. We've taken one down, but there's more. Tell the Doctor he's got to get the control panel-"
"Fitz? Is that you?" The Doctor suddenly cut in, drowning out Ailla's voice. I flailed my arms at the wall furiously in the hopes he could sense my frustration.
"-the stability field."
Er. There was something missing from that. Probably something vital.
"Sorry, Ailla, what did you say?"
"What's going on? Are you alright? How in the blazes did you manage to work the intercom?" It was a tossup to say which part I was more annoyed by. His constant interruption, or his total lack of faith that I was capable of working a radio.
"Doctor, shut up. Ailla's in trouble. She's telling me something."
"Overload the buffer panel." Ailla said quickly after I'd finished. Her voice had gone softer. "He'll know what to do. Just need to offset the timeline's enough…" She went quiet, and then the hissing I had been hearing cut to silence. A quick round of gunfire echoed from down the hall. And was followed by more ominous silence.
"Ailla?" I barely breathed, but there was no response.
"Fitz? Is everything alright?"
No. Not really. Not really at all. "Doctor, she's in trouble. They got in." What the hell were we going to do? "You have to find them; she said to…overload the buffer panel. You'd know what to do to offset a time line. They're somewhere nearby, I heard guns." My words were all mashed together and probably sounding a little frantic. How were we going to find her? Follow the pitter-patter of gunfire? How was I supposed to hop around this whole damn ship looking for her? And Rhysik too, wasn't he with her? Holy crap we are so screwed.
"Calm down, everything is going to be just fine." He used that annoying voice of his, the one that said 'breathe, you're starting to sound crazy'. I didn't need the reminder, I was already aware. "We'll take care of it. Are you still where we left you?"
"Yeah, still in the med bay, why?" An audible sigh came from the other end.
"Fitz, is the intercom on?"
"Uh. Yeah. How else would we be talking?"
"No no, not just the local radio. The intercom. The one that broadcasts through the entire ship."
We had something like that? We weren't throwing nearly enough dance parties if that were the case.
"I don't…" How do you tell what an intercom is as opposed to a radio? Aren't those just the same thing? Maybe he had a point about me being unable to work this thing.
"Is the little white switch up?"
"…yes?" Through the whole ship. So then…everyone and everything could hear me? Including the intruders? Awesome. "Oh."
"Yes, well. Never mind that, don't panic." The Doctor said firmly. Yeah, just tell myself not to panic. That always works. "They've not been on a TARDIS in a long while, I'm sure they've forgotten all the ins and outs. We'll get Ailla and Rhysik and you sorted in just a tick. Just…shut the door, alright?" Sure, of course they don't remember what a TARDIS is set up like. Hell, it was always changing. This was fine, what was I so worried about?
Maybe the part where Ailla seemed to know where everything she needed was, without ever having been here before.
Well, so much for making myself feel better.
"Okay." Don't panic. Think about rainbows and sunshine. Or something that would actually be calming. Panic would be bad.
"Good luck." The pause in his voice gave me absolutely zero confidence. But the red light died, so I assumed if I swore at him now, he wouldn't hear me. I'd save it for later. Yeah. Later. If I was still alive.
Boy, wasn't I little miss optimistic?
Were those footsteps I heard? Or gunfire? Whatever it was it sounded closer than before. I unclenched my fists and reminded myself to breathe. Breathing was important. But not in that psychotic rapid way I was doing right now. It'll be fine. It's going to turn out fine. Fine. Fine fine. First the door.
Which turned out to be more of a challenge than I thought.
"Shut! CLOSE!" Increasing my volume didn't do anything other than vocalize my growing lack of inner Zen. Battering my fists against the wall didn't help either. I head butted the wall, which hurt, but did nothing to move the door. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw it. Small white button on the side of the doorframe. Who has white buttons in a white room? Who does that? Whatever, didn't matter. I jabbed it with my thumb and with a hiss, the door started to slide shut.
Before it could come to a complete close, a pale gray hand slipped between the metal panel and the wall, bringing my optimism, along with the door, to a grinding halt. The long slender fingers curled over, revealing sharp jagged tips.
Oh shit.
No. It's fine.
Maybe if I said it enough times, it would be true. Going in my favor, was the fact that there was hardly space for his hand to get through, much less his whole body. It wasn't ideal, but someone would be along shortly to help, and hey, now he was trapped. This was really much better than it look-
With a shriek of protest, the door started to slide back. It moved slower than when it had closed, but it was moving. Opening. Wider. There went that plan. I took one hop backward, and then another. My eyes unable to look away as the inch gap became two, and then four. A face appeared, grinning at me.
"Ah yes," his voice rasped unpleasantly. "I had hoped I might find you here."
"Funny, can't say the same." He was still unable to enter the room, so I was safe for now. Hard to convince my heart of that as it pounded away at a rate reserved for humming birds and mice that were about to be devoured. I finally took a glance around the room, what the hell could be used as a weapon? My chair? A freaking band-aid? Maybe my healing lamp? Could you heal someone to death? That seemed pretty unlikely, especially when you considered my luck. He laughed as he watched my frantic movements, and it was a sickly sound, probably because it came from lungs that were still half-full of ocean sludge.
"You tried to kill me human." Oh, great. Another fan of the homosapien. Nice to know that all differences considered, both good and evil time lords agreed that humans were just the worst. "I merely intend to return the favor. Though, I think you will agree, I am much better at it." Instead of continuing to slide the door open, he grew impatient with it, which I could sympathize with. His fingers dented against the metal as he started to wrench it back and forth, until finally, with a scream, half the door pulled from its frame out into the hall.
I hopped several more steps back.
Other than being soaked to the bone and covered in that black silt that permeated the water, he looked remarkable healthy for a man who had been shot, and then marched across an ocean. Or beneath it. Besides his shirt stained darker where blood had oozed from his shoulder, you couldn't even tell he had been hurt. Gotta tell you, not a fan of the Gallifreyan experimental soldier program. Not a fucking fan at all.
"Well, you know. That wasn't really personal. That's just because you were trying to kill us." So, a little personal then.
"You tried to hurt me," he said it like it was a joke, like the idea of me harming him was a big laugh. "Got a taste though, in the water. You're not like that old bitter time lord. You're young. Fresh." He grinned and I realized the sludge around his mouth wasn't just black. It was a deep deep red. Was the Doctor too late? Had this asshole found Ailla? And Rhysik? Or maybe he had run into the Doctor.
Or all of them.
Christ.
I'm going to go ahead and start panicking now.
He climbed past the half door, dripping as he went. I risked a glance over my shoulder. No one is coming. Everyone is dead. The nasty thoughts in my head were being particularly unhelpful today. But if that was the case, I needed to get myself out of this, there had to be something I could use. The chair I'd been sitting in bumped against my hip, I tried to lift it, but with only one good leg, it was impossible, and not a particularly useful weapon anyway. Everyone is dead and you're gonna be next.
Shit. Shit shit.
I knocked the chair over, but it was pretty pathetic as far as roadblocks went. My eyes locked onto the cot, that had some heft to it. I grabbed the edge of it and yanked, tipping it over and hopping out of the way as it fell, it smashed against the floor and my leg did not appreciate the effort. But it was three feet of a barrier that hadn't been there before, so it was worth it.
A solid steel door didn't slow him down. How much do you think that will do?
If my brain had a face, I would punch it so hard.
He laughed again as he stalked me across the room, not feeling any need to hurry. After all, he was a killing machine; I was a helpless meat piñata. Why rush things?
"You want to play games, little girl?" He asked with a grin and I tried not to look directly at his teeth, sharp fangs that appeared to have been built for a very specific purpose, like murder.
"You a scrabble guy?" No. No, I really didn't want to play games. I wanted not to get killed. I wanted him to go away and just let me live. That kind of pleading would only make him laugh though, so I bit my lip and stifled my desperation. My back hit the counter and I realized we'd reached the end. A few glass jars filled with miscellaneous cotton and bandages, my jacket neatly folded to the side.
My jacket.
The one with the gun. Hope seized me by the throat and I held my breath. I'd have to dig through the pockets to get it; did I have the ten seconds I needed to do that? Hell, did I even have two at this point? All that separated us now, was the cot.
I grabbed two jars and hurled them at him, one missed by a mile, but the other burst against his forehead. Bull's-eye. I grabbed the jacket, turning my back on him. My shaking hands fumbled with the zipper and pulled the pocket open around the same time he screamed furiously. Apparently, not amused. I turned my head just in time to see him launch clear over the cot and land squarely on my back. My leg exploded in a white-hot pain with the added weight and we fell sideways onto the floor. Still desperately trying to find the gun. Knowing there wasn't enough time, but ignoring the throbbing in my leg as he pinned me to the ground. His claws pierced through my shirt as we struggled and there. There it was. My hand grasped something cool and metal just as his razor teeth sank into the back of my neck.
I screamed, but there was mostly fury behind it, I used it to power my elbow back, driving it into the side of his head hard enough that he released me, falling back. Spinning around, I leveled the gun at his head even as he started to come at me. My finger squeezed the trigger as he opened his mouth.
CRACK.
The single bullet echoed through the room and where his face used to be, there was just a large and messy hole. The chemical smell of the gun hit my nostrils first, and then the overwhelming stink of blood.
"Ho- Fuck." The corpse slowly slumped sideways to the floor, a puddle growing from his head. I scuttled up on my one good leg, desperate to get away from it.
He was dead.
I killed him.
Someone that had been alive a moment ago. Like, just a second, most definitely wasn't anymore. I couldn't stop staring. Or shaking.
My own blood, slowly trickling down my back, alerted me to move. The wound didn't seem to be gushing; he had probably planned on having some fun before he killed me outright. Rummaging through the drawers produced some gauze and tape to make a reasonable enough bandage.
That's when I heard footsteps hammering on the metal floor out in the hall. Someone was coming, and they were coming fast.
Godfuckingshiteveryfuckingth ingfuck.
I spun around, desperately searching for just someplace to hide. Not that it would matter. It was a pretty big mess I'd made, and it wouldn't take a genius to figure out someone had killed this guy. I threw a sheet over him, hoping it might buy me some time. Who the fuck knows, I have no idea what I'm doing at this point. But the blood soaked through almost instantly; pretty obvious it was a body.
Shit. No time to worry about it, I settled for the corner of the room adjacent to the door. Hopefully, they wouldn't see me until I got a few shots off. Assuming my aim was any good. Which it wasn't. I'd gotten lucky just now, because if anyone could miss at point blank range, it would be me.
I didn't feel like my luck was something to rely on.
Leaning against the wall, my leg reminded me, in a furiously angry and throbbing way, that it hurt. The gun shook badly as I tried to hold it still with both hands, but it wasn't really working. Just take a breath, calm down. The footsteps closing in weren't helping either. They finally slowed to a stop outside the door. My breath caught in my chest and my muscles locked up. Don't shoot until they're close. He took one step in, then another.
"Fitz…" A hoarse whisper came from his mouth, and with a stupid amount of relief, I recognized the Professor. His eyes locked on the sheet, and the general carnage of the room. He made a noise and I started. Probably should take my finger off the trigger before I accidentally shot him.
"Thank freaking god," I let out a shuddering breath as my cramped hand loosened around the gun, the weight of it dragging my arms down. "Because I really didn't think I was going to get a clean shot from this far."
His head snapped around and for a second, he looked terrified. Which was weird, didn't take him for the type to be bothered by dead bodies. You know, since he was usually the one making them dead. His eyes locked onto mine with a terrifying intensity, but he didn't do anything. He just stood there and stared, acting like someone had kicked him in the balls.
"You okay?" The lingering silence was starting to freak me out, and I had already hit that quota for the day. He didn't answer, but somewhere in that brain of his he had reached a decision. Striding forward, he crossed the distance between us, his gaze never leaving mine. I opened my mouth to ask again, but was startled to silence when I realized his brakes didn't seem to be working. He was getting close, too close. Close enough to cup the back of my head, and without any hesitation, crush his mouth against mine.
There was a brief moment where I stood there frozen, wondering what the hell was going on. But the rest of the voices in my head smothered that thought with a pillow of bricks and had me responding eagerly. My lips parted and my eyes fluttered closed, his movements were fueled by a hungry kind of desperation that had my stomach doing all kinds of gymnastics. When he pressed up against me and pinned me to the wall my throat made an unconscious sound. He was really good at this.
He finally released me, resting his forehead against my own. I was secretly pleased his breathing was just as ragged as mine. His other hand slid up my shoulder, cool fingers tracing against the skin of my collarbone and leaving a trail of goose bumps as he went. He leaned down once more, placing a softer kiss against my lips when his hand came around to the back of my neck. I sucked in a sharp breath and flinched, the pain ripping through me unexpectedly.
"Sorry." He said, his voice husky. "Sorry that was- I just-" He stepped back, giving me room to breathe. When he pulled his hand away, he frowned, bringing it closer to inspect. "Are you…you're bleeding." His voice had gone sharp in less than a second. Way to be a mood killer, guy. As if I were unaware of my injuries. Part of me briefly considered grabbing a handful of his hair to finish what he'd started, but he seemed pretty distracted by the blood that was seeping through my, apparently, crappy bandage.
"Um." Had to remember words again. Sentences. Cognitive thoughts. "Yeah. Wasn't as prepared for the first guy." I tried clearing my throat so it was slightly less obvious how much of an effect he'd had on me.
"There was-" He turned back to the body. "Ah. That's who that was."
"Yeah, who'd you think it was?" I snorted.
"You." Those pale eyes locked onto mine again, somehow burning with a heat despite their light color. I found myself trembling under the full force of it.
"Oh." It finally clicked. He thought the body had been me. He thought I was the one laying dead on the floor.
So that explained this whole…incident better.
Well. No. It didn't really. I mean, it was nice that he was relieved I had survived, but this was a bit more concern than I was expecting. Also, completely out of leftfield. And very much not the type of response I would have anticipated. It wasn't like- I mean, he had been joking. All those times he flirted? And the kitchen? That had been a joke, right?
His hand still cradled the back of my head, like he was afraid I was going to disappear.
I'm still not sure what's going on.
"I'm sorry, I should have been here sooner."
"Thought you were done caring." I gave an uneasy smile.
"I lied." The corner of his lips barely curved upward, he looked incredibly dangerous when he did that.
And a little sexy?
Shut up, you just got your brain back out of its gelatin state, don't go screwing that up again so soon.
"It's fine," I swallowed. "I'm alright." It wasn't technically true, but it was mostly true. I was confused as all hell, but I was alright. "Ailla and the rest made it out okay?"
He frowned. "I don't know."
"What do you mean you don't know?"
"There wasn't time to check first, I'm sure the Doctor and Jack managed."
"You can't just assume that kind of thing!" My voice was unpleasantly high, but I really had been alright.
Well. Mostly.
But I'd dealt with my particular problem, the Professor didn't need to be here. And we definitely shouldn't have been wasting time partaking in our little…well, whatever that had been. I took comfort in my familiar anger. It was definitely better than trying to wonder what had just happened between us, or, more alarmingly, what it meant.
"This guy said he'd already run into someone. Said he attacked them. We need to find them right now." I tried to move quickly, pushing past the Professor who obligingly let me escape that distracting closeness we'd been sharing.
"You're hurt, don't be absurd-"
"Oh damn." I wasn't listening to his lecture anymore. Not because I didn't want to hear it, despite it being a perfectly valid reason. No, I wasn't listening because there were three figures looming in the doorway. Two men, and a woman. All unfamiliar. I raised my arm to fire just as the woman launched herself at me, my finger squeezing the trigger frantically while my other hand flew up, trying to block the blur of teeth that were coming at my face. She latched onto my shoulders and threw us both backward. I felt stitches in my leg burst as we went down, and I caught her teeth with my forearm. Better than my throat, I guess.
She screamed as I emptied the gun into what I hoped was her stomach. It could have just as easily been the ceiling. I shoved her back, trying to get her knees out of my chest so I could breathe, and she raised both hands into the air, readying to drive her fingers into me like daggers. It didn't matter how many bullets I fired at her, she was going to fucking kill me.
The Professor came at her sideways, tackling her and they both rolled away as I gasped for air. I shoved myself up on my elbow, trying to help instead of just be relieved. Before I could, the other two came at me. The taller of them pinned my arm to the ground with his foot, crushing his weight against my wrist until my hand went limp and he kicked the gun aside as he laughed. He bent down and grabbed a handful of my hair, dragging me up to my feet. Tears burned in my eyes as agony spread from the base of my skull and rippled outward. I caught a brief glimpse of the Professor pummeling the woman as she struggled and hissed, grabbing at his hands. She moved like a snake, even with the blood oozing out of her middle and she finally twisted behind him, pinning him face down on the floor.
Teeth sank into my already bleeding arm and I cried out through gritted teeth. The other one jerked my head around like a rag doll. I took a swing at him but he caught my useless hand and crushed it again like a vice, squeezing the painfully bruised bones and pinning it against my chest until my back hit the wall. Apparently, it wasn't just enough to catch us, they wanted to toy with us a bit first.
Assholes.
I wanted to spit in his face, I wanted to bite back. I fucking loathed him. But I was useless. Hopeless and hurt, and useless. He pulled me closer and sniffed at my throat, sharp teeth extending, pressing harder into my skin. A sob caught in my chest as I tried to struggle but there was nowhere to go.
"Please," I whispered to no one in particular. "Don't." My voice shook and I felt a hot tear slip down my cheek. Shame burned through me as the last of my dignity disintegrated.
"Le do thoil! Ná Gortaítear an duine. Tóg dom! Le do thoil. Tóg dom ina ionad!" The Professor's voice rang out and everything stopped. It might be delirium setting in, but I'm pretty sure he had just spouted nonsense. I blinked several times and tried to look at him from the corner of my eye. I still couldn't move much, but he was there, his face smashed into the floor, struggling beneath the woman's fist to see us clearly. But the fangs at my skin retreated, and the man turned to look at the Professor, clearly unhappy about being interrupted.
"Tá a fhios agat nach féidir linn" Was this the part where my brain was broken? That was a thing that happened, right? People suffer some kind of trauma and suddenly words sound all wrong? They were still talking, arguing it sounded like, but I wasn't really listening. My eyes searched nearby, desperate for any hope of respite. But there was nothing. Who was I kidding, there wasn't any fight left in me. All I really wanted to do was lay down and curl into a ball.
My head was really starting to throb now and each time the man spoke he moved, which reignited the wound on the back of my neck. The tears were coming again, and I blinked furiously, hating them just as much as I hated the man causing them. I focused on the Professor instead.
The woman, with one hand clamped across her bleeding stomach, was lifting away from the Professor. She was letting him go, but she didn't seem particularly happy about it. He pushed himself up from the ground slowly, every muscle in his body rigid. He glanced at me once, his jaw tightening. Yep. I'd gotten myself into trouble again. In record time, too. Then he directed his attention to the man who still gripped me by my scalp.
"Tá mé do rí. Ordaímse duit a fhágáil ar an long. díobháil aon duine." My wrist dropped suddenly and both the woman, and the man who had been feeding on my arm, started to retreat for the door. Only my buddy remained, apparently he didn't want to stop playing. The Professor reached into his pocket and retrieved the laser screwdriver. Where had that been five minutes ago? "Scaoileadh léi. Anois." The words were still gibberish, but the tone was easy enough to recognize. It was the threat of death. He could be really scary when he wanted to be. The moment seemed to last forever until finally the man relented, unpinning me from the wall and throwing me forward. I collided with the Professor and he caught me with his free arm as I sagged against him. Still he kept the screwdriver aimed at the man as he marched out of the door.
As soon as he disappeared, I collapsed. Whatever strength I'd had, had been spent past capacity ten minutes ago.
"Fitzgerald," he tried to keep me upright, but that was a silly idea, so instead he fell to his knees, helping cushion the blow. He tilted my chin upright, his frowning face looming over me, inspecting for new damage. "Are you alright?"
There wasn't any energy for a snarky comment, so I just rolled my eyes.
"Right. Stupid question." He nodded seriously, tucking the screwdriver away. I choked out a laugh, which turned to a hiccup. All of my emotions kind of bubbled up in my chest like a flood starting to spill over the banks. I didn't want to lose it, didn't want to fall apart like a blubbering baby. But we were probably past the point of no return.
"I've just," I tried to smile past the tightness in my throat. "I've just had a really shitty day." I managed to get out in a warbling voice before the dam broke completely. I sucked in a heaving sob and covered my face with the hand that hurt the least. "Sorry, sorry." I mumbled over and over again, shaking my head. I didn't know what else to do other than stop crying like an idiot, but apparently, that wasn't an option.
"It's alright." Instead of patting my shoulder awkwardly, which was my signature move; he wrapped his other arm around me and pulled me closer, my sobbing becoming muffled in his chest.
It had been a really shitty day.
He pressed his face into my hair and hugged my shoulders gently.
"I've got you. You're alright." Even though it wasn't remotely true, it still made me feel a little better.
A/N 2: Hey guys. um. Possible minor spoilers ahead of the semi-distant kind, keep that in mind. I mean, they should probably be obvious, but who knows.
SPOILERS AHEAD. SKIP ALL YE WHO FEAR THE DARKNESS.
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...They all gone? Great. So I've got a question. And I could really use some feedback (pm works just as well if you don't want to be public in a review). This 'friend' of mine, let's call her 'Britless', is writing a story that involves a couple ultimately getting together... in the carnal sense. The last time said 'friend' wrote something like that, she including some kissing and then tactful fading to black. But this time she was considering not skipping it? She hasn't written much of that type of thing at all, and has no idea how it would turn out, but was up for the challenge. BUT she looked at her whole story and considered that most of it was pretty tame, and it would possibly horrify and shock readers to suddenly come across a smut chapter, that, while fits into the plot of the story, is still decidedly smutty. I mean, I know I'm writing my story, and it's my choice blah blah. I know that. But I really am writing it for YOU guys, so wanted to know if that would be a 'yay, totally do it!' or 'nooooo! save my innocence!'
...And if it were to lean in the 'yay' direction, er...how explicit is one allowed to get? On a scale from 1-10.
For my friend... 'Britless'. I'm asking for her. So please tell me! Seriously guys, even if you never ever speak to me. Please. Like, I'm making this face right now ?:/
I don't even know what that face MEANS.