Protection // Doctorlyn Drabble
Written for my lovely Cal while she was away. <3
antiitheus
This wasn’t supposed to happen.
This was why they didn’t go out much.
This was why he blamed himself.
A trail of crimson stains followed in their wake,
beads of blood that rolled off porcelain skin. He
carried her all the way home, hugging her close
to his chest and cradling her as if she were a
small child. The stench of fear and anger rolled
off him in waves and gun smoke still hung in the
air. Bodies lay scattered on the cobblestone street,
some still moving and others statues with lifeless
eyes. Their signs, ripped and torn, read, ‘Freedom
now. Slavery never.’ The aliens of this planet would
never see freedom and he would make sure of it:
especially after their crimes to his beloved. One gun
wound to her calf and a blow to her head in the
commotion made her drop like a rock. Thank god
he caught her… and killed the man who dare hurt his
angel. Too bad the man’s blood spattered their clothes.
She passed out minutes later, with the help of his
telepathic powers of course, he didn’t want her to
witness his destructive anger, his anger that would
silence the crowd.
In the moments before the riot broke out
she ran to a nearby shop, her excitement
palpable and just enough to blind him to
the tension in the air, to the hidden danger
sparking in the streets. Her dark hair glinted
in the light of two suns, gorgeous hazel
eyes reflecting a sense of youth and beauty.
The icy sliver in his hearts melted in the
warmth of her flaming spirit. How could one
not fall in love with something so beautiful?
Pride filled him and for once, happiness.
She was his to love and hold, and never to
share. Perhaps she caught him staring
because she flashed him a toothy grin
while picking up a green beaded necklace.
With a question in her eyes and one step
forward their peace shattered like glass.
And he was still trying to pick up the pieces.
But it was his fault for not checking the date, for not
securing her safety. H I S F A U L T. And she paid the
price. “I can fix this, Gwendolyn,” he murmured,
voice ragged and laden with guilt. She didn’t respond.
His grip on her tightened as he took long strides
toward the ship, and he did not spare one glance
back to the ruins of the small alien town. One blue
police box overlooking destruction, there the TARDIS
stood; a beacon of hope for the lovers… and one of
death for the planet that ripped his peace away. Their
pain and his justice lay in their future, but first he
needed to care for his angel. She needed him.
The door swung open before he arrived and quickly slammed shut to
hide away the devastation just as they entered the ship’s threshold.
The TARDIS nudged his mind and in his panic he ignored her, too
intent on racing to the infirmary. Everything seemed set in place already,
the stark white medical bed and walls. Vermillion blood, however,
soon dotted the sheets as he began to work. He spoke in a soft tone
even though she couldn’t hear him. His gentle but firm hands removed
the lead bullet lodged in the tissues of her muscle and quickly dressed
the wound to fight infection. Though it didn’t take very long time passed
painfully slow and he began to think she’d never wake in his panic.
After addressing every wound and scratch – and searching her for more
injuries – he sank back into the chair next to the bed, nervously fiddling with
the beaded necklace she picked up earlier. He wanted to buy it for her before…
everything. With a long sigh his head fell into his bloody hands. Without
her voice to sooth him his thoughts terrorized and plagued. He almost lost
her today; his salvation, his love, his everything. To keep his sanity he kept
reminding himself that nothing could hurt her here. Her safety could not be
compromised in the TARDIS, but it was threatened outside his doors.
A cracking sound dragged him back to reality and he
opened his fist, noting how some clay beads cracked
and chipped. He stared at them for what seemed like
forever all shoved into a few seconds. Tormented hazel
eyes finally flickered to her, her face peaceful in slumber.
A few more moments passed and he suddenly stood,
the noise of a scraping chair disturbing the silence.
Leaning over her he pressed a kiss to her temple and
latched the necklace on, adjusting it so it sat right on her
neck. He took a few more minutes to watch his sweet
angel as he formulated a plan. She’d never agree but
he didn’t care. If she asked, he’d lie; rule one. With that
he turned away and stalked to the door with dark intentions,
the room filling with his shadow. Revenge in its sweetest
of terms meant all the more when it became personal.
She would never hear their screams.
She would never hear their pleas.
She would never know of what became
of the planet because when she woke
he’d be back. He’d be there with the
blood washed from his hands, but with
more sins than the devil on his shoulders.
The Doctor and Gwendolyn safe in the TARDIS. Just as it should be.
