Title: A Source of Comfort
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: Tenth Doctor/Ten.5
Fandom: Doctor Who
Rating: PG
Table: 2
Prompt: 50, Teddy Bear
Author's Note: The human version of the Doctor is being referred to as John Smith in this fic, since it's the Doctor's human alias and his clone needed a name.
Author's Note: Spoilers for Journey's End, somewhat. This is an completely alternate take on the ending of Season Four.
Disclaimer: This is entirely a product of my own imagination, and I make no profit from it. I do not own the Tenth Doctor, or his human clone. Please do not sue.

***

The Doctor looked down at his hands on the Tardis' console; strong, capable hands, those were. He'd done so many things with them, things that had saved worlds, benefitted people .... and even caused destruction. They'd done things that had brought both joy and sadness.

They'd clenched in anger, and been held out in supplication. They'd been held up in the air as a warning, dangled at his sides when he'd felt helpless. They'd pushed people away -- and pulled them nearer. Punched and scratched, stroked and caressed.

He'd never felt that his hands were so incapable of movement, of doing anything that mattered, as he did at this moment. What was wrong with him? Usually, when he was in a situation where he knew that he had to face unpalatable truths, he didn't hesitate to wade right in and try to set things right, as much as he was able to.

But this was John he was dealing with; John, the man he loved. He couldn't just bring up the subject of what Hart had done to him, what he'd gone through in those agonizing hours before the Doctor had been able to find him.

They would have to talk about it sooner or later -- but the Doctor didn't want to push John for any kind of information that the other man was obviously reluctant to give. He would just have to be as patient as he could, and hope that he could find the right time to bring it up.

When was the right time to discuss something like that? He'd been through very similar experiences often enough to know that it wasn't something that was easy to talk about; and it would probably be even less easy for John.

He knew what it was like to be with other men; he'd had several sexual partners in his lifetime, both willingly and otherwise. But he was the only man John had ever been with; even though he had all of the Doctor's memories, he didn't have the physical experiences to go with them. He was sure that made their situations very, very different.

The last thing he wanted to do was to upset John by bringing this up, so he was going to be quiet about it, for now. But if the other man seemed to be troubled, if the Doctor sensed that his lover needed to talk, he would try to ease them into that conversation as best he could.

He'd left John sleeping soundly in their bedroom, relieved that his love had actually been able to sleep without nightmares for a while. The Doctor glanced worried towards the corridor leading back to their bedroom; he should really go and check on John, make sure that he was all right.

He hated feeling so helpless, so ineffectual. It was a feeling that he'd struggled against for most of his life; no matter how much he did for people, for the world in general -- for the universe, really -- he always felt that he should do more. It never seemed like quite enough; and in this case, there was nothing he could do, no way to erase what John had been through.

Why couldn't be some omnipotent, all-powerful being, as some people who knew him seemed to think he was? The Doctor sighed, raising a hand to rub it across his forehead. If only he was that powerful .... But he wouldn't know what to do with that sort of power if he had it.

And he wouldn't want it, anyway. What was that old saying? "With great power comes great responsibility." He'd heard that in a film somewhere; he couldn't remember where the quote was from, but it was certainly true enough.

If he had that kind of power, he'd feel even more obligation towards the universe -- and he was so tired of that. He accepted it, of course. He'd been born to be what he was, after all; it was a destiny that he couldn't run away from.

But there were times when he wanted to just be able to go somewhere that there was no sign of trouble, somewhere that he could be alone with John, somewhere that they could spend time alone together with no other thoughts but each other coming into their minds. If only that were possible, at least for a short time ....

The Doctor shook his head, turning on his heel and striding purposefully towards the door of the corridor. He wasn't going to mope around and daydream about obscure "if onlys." That wasn't the way to live. It would only make him melancholy, and he didn't want that.

Besides, there were so many good things in his life. He had friends. He had the Tardis. And -- most importantly -- he had John. He had the man he loved by his side, and they would be together for as long as they possibly could be. Nothing was going to tear John away from him.

Hart had tried -- but he hadn't succeeded. He and John were as close as they had ever been -- well, their physical relationship would obviously have to be taken slowly to reach the point they'd been at before, but he was confident that they would overcome that obstacle.

They belonged together. If what they'd just been through had proven anything to him, it was that one simple fact. There had been so many people against their relationship; so many reasons had been thrown at them as to why they were doing the wrong thing by clinging to each other. But they hadn't been wrong. They were both convinced that nothing could be more right than the two of them.

His footsteps slowed as he approached their bedroom, and he looked cautiously around the door frame to make sure that John was still there, still sleeping peacefully. Yes, he was -- and the sight that met his eyes made the Doctor's lips curve into a smile.

John was lying on his side, one slender hand tucked beneath the pillow he rested against. Clutched next to his thin chest was a small teddy bear, a plush stuffed toy that the Doctor couldn't remember the genesis of, but which he was glad that he'd had on the ship.

Where had that bear come from? He frowned, trying to remember .... but for some reason, it slipped his mind as to exactly where he'd gotten it. Well, it didn't matter, not really. At least it seemed to be something that was giving John some comfort in his dreams.

He himself had drawn comfort from that small stuffed animal on more than one occasion, he told himself, looking away for a moment as he felt his throat tightening and his eyes growing misty. Too many times to recall .... but somehow, when he'd needed to curl up in bed with something to cling onto as a source of comfort, that teddy bear had been there for him.

Exactly where had it come from? He cast his thoughts about, frowning again, trying to latch onto a memory that would burst into his mind and give him his answer. And when it did, he let out a nearly soundless gasp, his eyes widening.

Jack had given him that teddy bear -- when they'd parted after ending their relationship. He'd told the Doctor that it would be something to "remember him by" -- and the Time Lord had taken him to heart. The bear had seemed comforting, just as Jack's arms had been when he'd needed them.

That was in the past, something that he hadn't thought about in a long time. And something that definitely hadn't been on his mind since John had come into his life. It brought a smile of nostalgia, but no great longing, no feelings of regret.

He'd been over Jack long ago; though he'd been closer to the immortal than to any other lover he'd had in his long life, he'd always known that they weren't destined to last forever. The feelings that he'd had for Jack had been deep, but that hadn't been a love that would be there until the end of time. A friendship, yes. A relationship, definitely not.

And now .... now he had John. The man who was literally a part of him, who knew him just as well -- if not better, at times -- then he knew himself. The man who he'd given himself to utterly, hearts and soul, more so than he ever would have dared to any other being.

Of course, forever wasn't possible for them. John was human; they would, at some point, have to face a final physical parting. But this man would always be a part of him, always have a place in his hearts that no one else could ever hope to touch.

He made his way into the room quietly, standing by the bed and looking down at John. He wanted more than anything to shed his clothes and climb into that bed, but this wasn't the time to do that. That sort of physical intimacy would come later -- much later, when John was more ready for it, when he'd had a chance to recover from what had happened.

But he could be there by John's side when he awakened; he could be the first thing that his love would see when he opened his eyes. He could know that the Doctor was there beside him, that he would never have to be alone, that he was loved and cherished.

The Doctor sat down on the bed, leaning over and pressing a gentle kiss against John's forehead. He'd thought that the other man wouldn't awaken, but he was wrong; John's lashes fluttered, and his eyes opened a moment later, wide and unfocused, startled from the depths of sleep.

"Shhh, love," the Time Lord murmured, feeling badly that he'd awakened John when his lover was in need of the healing power of sleep. "It's all right .... I didn't mean to wake you. I just .... I was sitting here watching you sleep, and I couldn't resist kissing you."

John smiled up at him, sliding over in the bed and holding out his arms. "I need you beside me," he said softly, his large dark eyes fixed on the Doctor's face. "That is, if you don't mind holding me while I sleep. I always feel safer when you're here beside me."

"I don't mind at all," the Time Lord murmured, feeling his throat tightening again and hoping that he wouldn't cry. He kicked off his shoes, pulling back the covers and slipping into bed beside John, closing his eyes as he settled down beside his love.

This was where he belonged -- and it was the only place he wanted to be. They would get past what had happened, and it would all become nothing but a memory. John would recover, they would go on with their lives, and he wouldn't have to feel helpless and inadequate again when it came to making sure his love was safe and protected.

A small smile still curved the Doctor's lips as he followed John into the realm of sleep, the soft, plush teddy bear cuddled between their bodies.

***