Title: Insecurity
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: Tenth Doctor/Michael Cutter
Fandom: Doctor Who/Law & Order
Rating: PG-13
Table: 100_tales
Prompt: 50, Comfort
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 Michael Cutter, unfortunately. Please do not sue.

***

The Doctor closed his eyes as he relaxed back against the pillows of Michael's bed with the other man cradled in his arms, stroking a hand through his lover's hair. Michael was sleeping soundly, but he didn't know how long that would last.

The other man had been plagued by nightmares for the past week, and the Doctor certainly couldn't blame him for that. After what he'd been through, it was a miracle that he wasn't cowering away from any sort of human contact.

But Michael was stronger than that, he told himself, opening his eyes and looking down at the man in his arms. He wasn't the sort of person to run away from his problems; no, he was doing his best to face them, to stare down the demons and banish them to a faraway place. It was more than most humans would have the ability to do.

If only he'd been able to get there sooner, to get Michael out of that place before those men had been able to lay their hands on him ....

He shook his head, squeezing his eyes closed. No. He couldn't let himself think like that. What had happened wasn't his fault, any more than it was Michael's. There was no way he could have known where his lover was and how to find him.

It had been mere coincidence that he'd happened to be searching for Michael in that desolate part of the city when he'd seen the man wearing his coat. It would have been so easy for him to have been in a completely different place -- and to have lost Michael forever.

He took a deep breath, hoping that it wouldn't disturb the man sleeping so quietly in his arms. He didn't want to think about the possibility of losing Michael. It hadn't happened, and he was grateful to have his lover here with him, safe and protected.

Of course, now he was afraid to let Michael so much as take a step away from the safety of his apartment without going with him, he thought ruefully, sighing again. He knew that he'd have to, once his lover went back to work -- and he also knew that he would worry constantly, every day of their lives together.

Neither of them would ever be able to push all of this completely to the back of their minds and forget about it. They might be able to do it for a short while, but the memory would always be there, ready to jump out at them again with teeth and claws extended.

He shivered at the thought; at least he could take comfort in the fact that they were safe at the moment, and that they would be on their guard from here on out.

But they shouldn't have to live like that -- especially Michael, he thought, anger starting to rise in him at the injustice of the situation. No one should have to spend their lives looking over their shoulder, afraid that they were being followed and targeted.

He himself had to deal with that, a little voice in the back of his mind pointed out. He always had to watch out for the Master, and for various other menaces that roamed the universe. He could never feel completely safe, no matter where he went.

At least he was able to give Michael some comfort by being here, he told himself, looking down at the man in his arms.

He didn't want to think of how his lover might be feeling if he hadn't been here. Not that Michael would have fallen apart; he was too strong a person for that. But he might have had a much harder time coping with all of this if he'd been alone.

And how was he himself coping? the Doctor asked himself, biting his lip. He didn't really want to answer that question, even in his own mind. The truth was, he wasn't doing well. He wanted to be as strong as he could for Michael, but he needed some measure of comfort himself, and there was no one to give it to him.

He couldn't expect that from Michael, not after all he'd been through. He was having a difficult enough time; he didn't need to deal with a boyfriend who was having his own emotional reaction to what had happened. That would be too much to ask for.

No, he was going to have to push his own need for comfort aside, at least for the time being. Though it wasn't easy to do. His hearts felt as though they were bleeding every time he thought of what had been done to the man he loved.

He'd been through the same thing himself, more times than he cared to remember; he knew what the physical pain was like, as well as the emotional damage it caused. He'd spent far too much time going through his own dark nights of the soul.

His own experiences had given him far too much knowledge of what Michael was going through; in a way, they mirrored his own, to some extent.

The feelings that he was sure Michael was dealing with were all too familiar. He'd wanted to hide his body in the same way that Michael did; to not let anyone see the bruises, the scars that were worse on the inside than they could ever be outwardly. He'd hidden his battered soul away, just as his boyfriend so obviously wanted to do.

He'd managed to do that so well that he'd built up thick walls around his emotions, hardly able to admit his feelings to himself, much less to anyone else. He didn't want that for Michael. It would be too hard for him to come out from behind those walls if he let them grow.

The Doctor sighed again, tightening his arm around Michael's waist and looking down at the other man as he shifted his position slightly. But Michael didn't wake up; he slept soundly, his cheek pillowed against the Time Lord's chest.

Hadn't he realized yet that there were two hearts beating in that chest? The Doctor knew that there would come a time -- all too soon -- when he'd have to tell Michael the truth about who and what he was. And that would open up a whole new set of problems for them.

What would happen then? He wanted to be optimistic, to hope that Michael would be willing to put aside his life on Earth and come with him. He wanted to feel that he could have this man in his life for as long as Michael could possibly be by his side.

But he had to face facts. Michael had a life here, a job he loved, one that he worked hard on. It would be a wrench for him to leave that.

And for what? For a life that he'd be unsure of, that he knew nothing about? A life traveling amongst the stars, being a nomad, not knowing what each day would bring. The Doctor didn't know if it was something that Michael would want.

There was no way that he could be sure if Michael wanted that life unless he asked. But now wasn't the time -- he was sure of that. He needed comfort and security, not the uncertainty of the kind of life the Doctor led. Taking him out into the universe would only heighten the realization that he could never count on being safe.

He couldn't put off telling the truth forever, though. The longer he waited, the harder it would be for him to do it. But Michael had been through so much -- and this would be a shock to him. He wouldn't be prepared to handle it, not yet.

Was he rationalizing? If he was, he had every right to do so, he himself fiercely. He was worried about his lover's emotional state, and he didn't want to make things worse.

His own bruises seemed to match Michael's, he thought wryly -- at least, the inner ones. Maybe they hadn't completely healed, though he tried to ignore that fact as much as he could. They were always there, hiding under the surface.

They were both in need of comfort -- the same type of comfort, really. He'd never thought that he was good at giving it, but he had to try. He knew exactly how Michael felt, and he had to try to alleviate that pain in any way he could.

What if he couldn't? The fear seized his hearts, making him feel as though they were being slowly squeezed in his chest, forcing the breath out of him. What if he couldn't help Michael get past this? What if he only succeed in pushing the man he loved further away from him?

The Doctor took another deep breath, trying to calm his pounding hearts. He wasn't that useless at being there for someone he cared about. Not after over 900 years of living.

He would be able to give Michael the comfort he needed. He had to believe that. He hadn't had anyone there for him to give him the comforting touch he had needed so many times in the past; he didn't want his lover to feel that he was alone. He knew only too well how devastating that could be after going through that kind of violation.

His gaze settled on Michael's face, admiring the strong jaw, the long lashes, the pale skin. He was so beautiful - and he was his. The Doctor intended to cherish this man for every second they were together, and hopefully, never have to let him go.

That in itself was a comforting thought, he told himself as he closed his eyes and settled down under the blankets with Michael still sleeping in his arms, cradled protectively against his chest. Maybe it would help to settle his troubled mind until sleep claimed him as well.

***