Hold on to yourself

you know that only time will tell

What is it in me that refuses to believe

this isn't easier than the real thing

Hold On to Yourself

Sarah McLachlan

Time seemed to stop as she sensed, even with her eyes squeezed tightly shut, that someone else was in the room with her now. He closed the door behind him and she couldn't help the whimper that escaped her throat. Biting on the inside of her cheek as the footsteps got even closer, Donna tried to keep silent.

There was a creak as someone knelt down beside her and cold fear slithered down her spine as she felt a touch on her hair.

"It's okay…" a voice murmured, and she stopped breathing, stopped thinking, stopped feeling.

The voice was speaking English.

It couldn't be, it couldn't, she must be imagining it, no one had spoken to her in words she could understand in months now, she had lost count of how long it had been.

"It's okay, please, look at me, can you move? Are you hurt? Don't be afraid, it's all right…"

Not only was the voice speaking English, she realized dimly in the back of her panic-ridden mind, but it sounded somehow familiar. Her head snapped up and she reeled away from the hand that had now come down to circle her wrist. Yanking her hand away from the man in front of her Donna let out a short sharp scream, and retreated deeper into the corner, staring at his face in something akin to blind terror.

Because now there was something even scarier than being someone's sex slave, now it seemed she must be losing her mind, because the man who had been touching her was wearing Ihis/i face: the man she dreamed about, the face that floated in front of her mind's eye on the days when she was sure she could not go on.

But he wasn't real. He couldn't be. And that meant she really had lost all her marbles.

"Donna…" he breathed, the deep brown eyes filled with pain, his face drawn in fear. His hand trembled, suspended in mid-air where she had pulled away from him.

"Donna, please, say something…" he was whispering now, looking like he was struggling on the edge of sanity himself.

She dropped her head down again and moaned low in her chest.

Both his gentle hands came around her forearms now and she pushed away from him, pressing up against the wall and breathing rapidly.

"Don't! Don't touch me!"

"Donna, I can show you…you don't have to be afraid, it's really me, I have searched for you for so long, but I am here, I am real, I can show you…"

He extended his hand toward her face slowly, his fingers outstretched and shaking. She flinched and shrank back into the corner as much as possible, shaking her head. He stopped moving, agony now etched on every worry line.

Donna gulped, and focused instead on his hand, finding it too unnerving to keep seeing that face staring at her. She swallowed hard at how familiar even his long fingers seemed to be, and tried to gather the last vestiges of her courage.

"No, it can't be, he's not real. Don't you dare touch me again."

She was pleased at how firm her voice sounded, but not surprised; she had always had the ability to bluster no matter how terrified she might be inside.

"This is it, isn't it? I've finally cracked. I'm having some kind of breakdown and my mind has put his face on your body just to make this be something I can handle. Well, you don't fool me, Sunshine, you put your hand on me, I'll bite it right off."

"I'm here, Donna. I'm real, touch me and see, it's me, the Doctor. I'm going to get you out of here."

She grimaced. "Yeah. Right. You and your tiny huge phone box. That's science fiction, I don't hold with that lark, and I suppose you really are an alien, and can time travel, and you expect me to fall for that. What, all I have to do is fuck you, right? And then you'll rescue me. Well, you can forget it, I'm not having any of that nonsense, and if you lay one finger on me I'll kick your skinny ass out the door."

"Donna…" He looked completely lost and simply gazed at her helplessly for a moment before continuing, his adam's apple bobbing nervously. "If that's all science fiction then how come aliens are holding you against your will on an alien planet?"

She thrust her chin out at him and narrowed her eyes, refusing to be outdone, and despite herself, relaxing slightly at the familiarity in his worried but tender bantering tone.

"You aren't gonna out-logic me, Spaceman. If you really were him then the TARDIS would translate for me and I could understand Nurse Ratchett out there when she was giving me her 'how to be a good little sex slave' speech."

She blinked, how had she worked that out when she felt so far beyond rational thought right now?

Sighing, the man who was pretending to be the Doctor folded his long legs into a sitting position in front of her, and looked back at her, his eyes full of guilt and pain.

"I don't have the TARDIS, Donna, I couldn't risk any hint of transport capability or they would not have let me on the planet. Their slaves are one of their more precious commodities, they won't risk losing them for anything but a very high price. But when they do let me buy you out of here we will take a small transport ship to the nearby moon where I left the TARDIS."

He paused suddenly, as if realizing he was rambling nervously. "She misses you too," he finished in a whisper, his eyes misting over for a moment.

He spoke softly, and it seemed her bravado had worked to calm and center him a little, when she had hoped it would do the opposite and knock him off-balance; shouting and posturing was all she had left to scare him off, she couldn't even stand at this point, much less kick anyone out the door as she had previously threatened.

"We'll be out of here in just a few hours, Donna, I promise."

Donna stayed silent. She was still questioning the possibility of this man being the Doctor, questioning her very sanity really. But he seemed so very very real, and solid, and so very Ihim/i. Maybe they had drugged her, but then she had refused even the sip of water the matron had offered her, suspecting just that.

"It was the bath bubbles, wasn't it? Is that how you are messing with my head? Am I hallucinating?"

He chose not to answer, just looked at her intently, his eyes traveling over her face. Donna took a breath and watched the man before her, noting each detail of his appearance. He looked like the man from her dreams, albeit unshaven with large grey circles under his eyes and his suit even more rumpled and creased than ever.

"I have been searching for you for months," he began suddenly, the tone of his voice shifting. "They said you were dead but I knew it couldn't be true."

Maybe it was her overtaxed mind but his eyes seemed to almost devour her features, drinking her in.

"I could feel you, Donna. I could hear you. I don't know how… I just knew you were alive. I am so sorry this happened to you, I lost you, this is all my fault—" He swallowed. "I'm going to get you out of here. Can you walk, do you think?"

He held out a tentative hand towards Donna, but dropped it when she didn't accept it.

Part of her was too stunned, after the months of horrors and frantic prayers this seemed so surreal. He was still talking, something about elapsing time periods for appearances' sake. She didn't follow his thinking, she was simply too tired and confused. But a seed of hope began to grow in her tired heart; only the Doctor could ramble like this without taking a breath.

She rubbed her eyes, trying to rid herself of this traitorous but growing feeling, she knew it would only be all the more bitter when the dream ended and she woke up to the acrid stench of the reality of the factory. It was time to put an end to this charade, and if she made this man angry, whoever he was, well so be it, at least it would be over with sooner.

"Fine." She said, cutting him off mid-ramble. "Then if that's really why you're here, trying to paw me, then let's go, get me out of here then."

His eyes widened when she grabbed his hand, but he recovered enough to close his fingers around her wrist. Her stomach dropped and it took all her willpower not to yank her hand back.

Then Donna went still as her eyes slid to the door, she could hear the guard's laughter outside, floating in from the hallway. The Doctor followed her eyes and lowered his voice.

"That's what I was trying to explain, Donna."

She could hear the apology in his voice and she looked back at him, starting a little as she realized that he had moved closer and was peering intently at her face.

She shivered. She could feel his eyes take in the bruises and the ravages of the past months. He reached out again very slowly and she did not protest save the smallest squeak as his fingers ghosted over her face, her recently battered jaw, his other hand still on her wrist, seeking her pulse.

She saw the worry pass across his face as he focused on her eyes once more. He began talking again, hesitantly, handling her very slowly and softly now, his eyes watching her every movement.

"We cannot go just yet, the only pretext I could use to be here is… well… you said it already. And we have to be in here for a few hours. If we leave just before dawn there's a lull right before the new shift starts, they'll work out a deal faster and ask fewer questions."

His hand moved to her neck. In spite of his gentle touch she flinched away.

"Sounds like an excuse to me, next thing you'll say we have to shag or we can't leave," she retorted bluntly.

With a sigh he shook his head and moved his hand back down to her wrist. Turning her hand over he looked at the ragged torn wounds that crossed her hand and arm.

"These are not healing properly. We need to get you tended to."

He looked again to Donna's face, his stare pinning her in place. "I'm not going to hurt you, I'm not going to do anything to you but get you out of here, but let's get you into the bed okay? I do think you need some sleep, your heart-rate is too fast."

She snorted. "I'm not gonna close my eyes and let you do who the hell knows what to me."

He moved back a little and released her, moving his hands to his sides. "I am worried about your heart, Donna. I know part of it is that you are scared because of… because of me, and part is because of what has been done to you, but your heart is racing too fast."

"You just want me on the bed so you can have your way with me. Well, I ain't gonna let you near me, I don't care whose face I think I see. I may be one step from the looney bin but as hallucinations go, you picked the wrong face, mister, you picked the one bloke who'd never sleep with me, much less pay money for it."

He stared at her, and lifted his hand, causing her to suck in a breath in fear.

My love

you know that you're my best friend

you know I'd do anything for you

my love

let nothing come between us

my love for you is strong and true

Hold On to Yourself

Sarah McLachlan

Hearing her gasp he froze, a stricken look crossing his face, before he simply moved his hand to rub the back of his neck.

"I know you don't believe me, but I won't hurt you, I won't even touch you again, you are safe with me."

She just looked at him mutely.

He pressed his lips together. "If you really want to talk about the sex slavery then we will." He looked ill, like even the words left a bad taste in his mouth. "I would never do anything with you like that, not in a situation like this one, I would never do anything you didn't want me to."

She sniffed and raised her chin stubbornly. "Now I know you are a figment of my imagination, he would never say it like that, he would never do anything with me at all, nothing to do with me wanting it or not. He and I, we're not like that, we're just mates."

His eyes darkened and the intensity of his tone surprised her. "Donna, you and I are so much more than just mates."

She stared at him. It was the most un-Doctor-like thing he had said so far, and yet suddenly more than ever she desperately needed it to really be him.

Then just like that he stood up and left the room.

She blinked. Just when she was wondering if he had ever really been there at all, he returned, carrying the pitcher of crystal clear water and a glass. He set them down on the nightstand then retreated to the opposite corner of the room, settling himself against the wall, still saying nothing further.

She watched him warily, the grim but determined look on his face so familiar, the set of his lips, thin with tension, and most of all, his eyes, so darkly intense and sad. She had been on edge around the men here for so long now that learning to read the hunger in their eyes had become a necessary survival skill. But this man, gazing at her with so much raw emotion, it was unsettling.

Eventually, taking several deep breaths, she got her feet underneath her and tried to stand, lurching onto her knees on the first attempt. She kept a watchful eye on him the whole time, but apart from wincing when her kneecaps hit the floor, he made no move, to come to her aid or otherwise.

By the time she had righted herself and pulled herself up with the support of a chair she could see him trembling with the effort of not moving and knew he was making his point that he wouldn't touch her without her permission.

Wobbling her way to the bed she sat on the edge unsteadily, breathing irregularly and rearranging her smock over her legs. She looked up to find him still watching her. He inclined his head slightly toward the water pitcher on the nightstand and they both turned to look at it.

Donna's stomach clenched viciously as slow droplets of condensation made their way down the side of the glass and she tried to remember the last time she had drunk water without first waiting for the silt to drift to the bottom of the beaker, the murky taste of dust following every swallow.

She wanted the water so badly but she didn't fancy her chances of getting the whole way over or around the bed to reach it.

She looked back at him. He gave her a wan smile and closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the wall.

She blew out a breath. She knew what he was doing, or more to the point, overdoing, and it was just so him, it was both infuriating and yet dangerously, entrancingly, filling her with hope.

"Oh, for goodness sake, are you going to help me out here or what?"

He smiled and opening his eyes he jumped nimbly to his feet, bringing her a glass quick as a flash, only slowing down when he was within an arm's length of her. She took the glass gingerly from his outstretched hand and clasped the cold glass of water as firmly as she could as he poured it, but her hand was shaking too badly to bring it to her lips. Instead she spilled drops on her dress and feeling ridiculous for doing so, started to cry again before she could help herself.

Then a warm hand covered hers and held her steady as he helped her raise the glass again. The cold water was pure and was the best thing Donna had ever tasted, which didn't help her to stop crying for some reason.

The man lowered the glass and set it aside with the gentlest caution against drinking too much all at once. His face was blurry now as she looked at him through her tears. He had bent down to below her level and was offering her a handkerchief. She took it and pressed it to her cheeks, it smelled of ihim,/i it smelled so good she wanted to bury her face in it, but she still couldn't quite relax enough to take her eyes off him.

"Please," she said, weakly, having no idea what she was asking him. He offered her more water and waited with endless patience as she sipped at it with his help. He had seemed to sense she had no more energy for words so he didn't say anything when he reached into his pockets and without making any sudden movements he produced two perfect yellow bananas and a bag of jelly babies. It didn't help make this night any less surreal.

She frowned at him, mentally giving him a bollocking for expecting her to trust that he wasn't trying to dope her but even as she railed at him soundlessly her fingers of their own accord fumblingly tried to peel one of the bananas. Frustration took over when she realized she could not manage to open the banana skin. She jumped when the man's hand closed around the end of the fruit in her hand and he peeled back a section for her.

She stared at him, not moving, the banana clutched in her shaking hands. He sighed, then with his eyes locked with hers he slowly reached out and took a small piece of banana putting it in his own mouth. She knew by the expectant look in his eyes that he was hoping to prove to her that he was not trying to drug her. Then he broke off another piece and held it out to her.

They regarded each other in silent standoff as the war between trust and hunger warred inside of her, then after hesitation, hunger won. She rolled her eyes and gave him one more glare for good measure before parting her lips and letting him feed her the banana. As the sweetness of the fruit passed her lips Donna let herself close her eyes for the briefest of moments.

When she opened them again he hadn't moved, he was just watching her with a warm smile and worried eyes.

iI'm fine, dumbo, quit staring,/i she would have told him but her mouth was full of the most delicious banana she had ever tasted and talking just seemed so tiring anyway.

When she finally finished it she looked around the room suspiciously, waiting for her vision to cloud or swim or some other sign she was on the precipice of a drug-induced coma, but if anything she could think more clearly now. Taking stock, she decided pragmatically that so far this sex slave gig involved a bath, a soft bed, food, water, a not unattractive alien slave buyer, and nothing even remotely involving sex. Okay. So maybe she could do this. And this bloke seemed very invested in the pretence of being the Doctor, so if she played along then maybe Imaybe/i this would be survivable after all.

He held out the second banana and she shook her head, she was stuffed, her stomach felt stretched and tight protesting against this sudden nourishment. All she wanted to do was lie down, but he was still crouching in front of her and she couldn't quite bring herself to relax enough to lie back on the bed with him so close.

Neither of them had spoken in a while and it was like a spell had been cast between them, a slow dance of building trust, Ior the illusion of it anyway/I she was quick to remind herself, and the sweetness of his gentle manner was soothing her nerves.

Very carefully he reached out a hand to her and she narrowed her eyes a tiny bit. He retracted his arm and mimed taking her pulse using his own wrist. She considered that for a moment then shook her head no, holding her breath to see how he would react to her refusal. He simply nodded and then stood up, pointing back to the corner of the room. She nodded now too and he stepped backwards away from her slowly until he was back in the corner, sliding down to sit against the wall.

She watched him for a moment more before her exhaustion won out over her mistrust and she curled up on the bed, pulling a blanket up over her shoulders and holding it tightly under her chin. His eyes followed her movements and the room went quiet.

She would close her eyes for just a few minutes, she thought, she wouldn't let herself do more than catnap very lightly, so she would know if he came near, yes, better to be safe she told herself as she drifted off. Before sleep claimed her she thought she heard humming, the barest hint of a melody he sometimes sung to himself when cooking them breakfast or fiddling under the console and didn't know she was watching him. The faint song brought fresh tears to her eyes and she didn't even try to fight them as they soaked her pillow.