Disillusioned 2 (Tenth Doctor x reader)
Synopsis: You’ve awakened
Content Warning: Injury
PART 1 | DOCTOR WHO MASTERLIST | GENERAL MASTERLIST
You let your eyelids flutter open as you uncurled in the soft expanse of your bed, head propped up by a mountain of pillows, just the way you liked it. You had read something once about a large number of pillows correlating to loneliness or missing something in life. But frankly that just seemed like a stupid assumption to make.
The soothing, ever-present hum of the TARDIS lulled you back to sleep, a small smile twitching at the corner of your lips.
Wait.
You jolted upright, rubbing the bleariness out of your eyes. The TARDIS? What the hell were you doing here? The last you remembered you were – oh. Oh.
Well, there was no fucking way you were staying here any longer.
A dull tug at your forearms stopped any attempts to move out of bed, and you scowled down at the innumerable wires that presumably the Doctor had attached to your skin. Overbearing arse. No doubt he was trying yet again to make amends for turning you into this freak. It hadn’t really been his fault in the first place; you had never been great at listening to instructions. And no one expected that a badly made replica Eye of Harmony would explode with you still in the room.
But he still didn’t get that that wasn’t your issue with the whole situation.
Immortality wasn’t the blessing the media from your childhood had made it out to be. But when you had found out you couldn’t die, you hadn’t been able to help the flutter of hope in your chest, the warmth blossoming as you had looked at the Doctor. He didn’t have to worry about you dying anymore. You could have travelled the stars forever.
Unfortunately, he hadn’t quite felt the same way.
You bit down on the inside of your cheek as you yanked out the various drips and needles, setting off a cacophony of alarms. The medical bay was lit up by the colourful flashes of sirens, and you glowered. Protective prick.
But luckily enough for you, he had left your stuff piled neatly beside the bed, including your gorgeous vortex manipulator. You really owed Jack one for that.
As the door burst open, your Doctor flushed with his hair all awry, you smiled sardonically and gave him a little wave goodbye. He didn’t get to hurt you again.
“Y/N, please, listen, just wait-”
And you stumbled into Jack’s arms.
“Hey sweetheart.”
“Jack.”
He held you out at arm’s length, eyes scanning the length of your body, and he frowned. You smiled up at him, feeling your eyes well up and you blinked the traitorous tears back. You weren’t going to cry to Jack, not again.
He led you to a chair, hand on your arm to steady you as you stumbled. Trembling. You slumped into the chair, staring off into the distance. And then you jolted, like a current of electricity had run right through you.
Jack frowned, tilting your head back and forth. You wrinkled your nose under his intense gaze, tired of being treated like a test subject in some experiment. You just wanted a nap. To be unconscious. Just something to take your mind off everything.
You screamed as your vortex manipulator began to sear on your arm, burning deep into your wrist. Jack started. His eyes narrowed as he stared at you, before abandoning his grip on your face and lifting your arm. You tugged at it, pulling at the strap, anything to get it off as it set your veins aflame, scorching you from the inside out.
“Get it off me, Jack!”
He yanked at the watch, cursing as it glowed in his hands.
“What have you done to it?” You shrieked, black spots appearing at the corner of your vision from the red-hot pain blistering under your skin.
Jack began to fade from your sight, edges slowly going blurry and the colour saturation seeping away. “Nothing, I swear, I don’t know what’s happening.”
And he was gone. The world fell away. Dropped right out from underneath you. Darkness swum up to meet you, joining the black spots and filling your sight.
Everything was black. Pitch black, not a single speck of light from no matter how far away. And the silence. The silence was endless, deafening in its emptiness. You tried to scream, but no sound came out, even as your body heaved to make a noise, anything.
You inhaled shakily. There was air. At least there was air. Eternal suffocation was not how you’d pictured the rest of your life.
But the rushing sensation never ceased, as if you were tumbling, head over heels. You swallowed back the saliva crawling up your throat, a precursor to the sick heady feeling slowly building in you.
You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to ground yourself in the sensation, the only real solid feeling you had left.
The burning sensation in your arm had stopped and you were almost sad for it; at least then you’d actually be feeling something. Well, something other than this nausea.
Well, there were worse ways to go.
Falling endlessly would at least allow you to sleep once you got used to the horrid rocking motion, and the darkness, and the silence. The silence, which muted the sound of your breath, the huff of noise, the rush of blood in your eardrums. You’d never heard the world so quiet before.
Although this was hardly a world. More like the absence of a world.
The absence of anything.
And then everything came rushing back. The lights, the colour, the noise and oh God, it was blinding. You fell to the ground in a ball, clutching your head as you wept from the surge of everything.
“Is she okay?”
“Come on,” you felt arms slip underneath you, picking you up as if you were nothing, “let’s get you to bed.”
“No, no,” you thrashed against the grip, sobbing as it only tightened around you. “Get off me. Please. Please just get off me.”
“Okay, okay,” you were placed down on the cold, hard, solid floor again and you whimpered, stretching out a hand to ground yourself. You felt a pinprick in your arm, a slight crest in the rolling waves of nausea.
And then nothing. Again.
You screamed.
