Title: Looking For Trouble
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: gen
Fandom: Doctor Who
Rating: R
Table: 6, 12_stories
Prompt: 12, Broken
Disclaimer: This is entirely a product of my own imagination, and I make no profit from it. I do not own the lovely Tenth Doctor, unfortunately. Please do not sue.

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The Doctor winced as he grasped the railing by the three short steps that led up into the control room of the Tardis, managing to get himself up those steps and over to the console. He pressed one button, then another, slumping against the console in relief.

There. He was safe. He could feel the ship shimmering out of existence on the planet, the familiar displacement of time and space all around him. That had been a narrow escape; if he'd been there much longer, he might not have been able to leave.

It had been folly to come here, anyway. He'd known that from the beginning; he'd heard so much about the planet, and that it could be dangerous, that he really didn't know what had possessed him to think that he could explore it safely when he was alone.

Of course, it probably wouldn't have been any safer if he'd had a companion with him, he told himself, making his way slowly to the couch against the wall. And that would have been one other person who would have been in danger of losing their life.

The Doctor collapsed onto the couch, closing his eyes and resting his head back against the cushions. At least he'd made it through; he was here now, safe on his ship. He had come through yet another crisis with his body and mind intact.

But how long could he keep doing that? Sooner or later, his incredible luck was going to run out. He couldn't keep counting on that for all of his lives -- after all, he'd had more than nine of them at this point. He almost felt as though he was living on borrowed time.

How many times could he be physically broken and still survive? That was a question he didn't want to know the answer to -- because there were probably far too many in the universe who would gladly show him just what that answer was.

This was the one body he'd had that he really loved; he didn't want to lose it. It was attractive, more so than any other he'd ever been in, and he intended to keep it for as long as possible. But if he kept going into situations like the last one, he might not be able to.

He had to stop putting himself on the line like that, without a thought for his own preservation. Yes, that was part of being who and what he was -- but being a Time Lord didn't mean that he had to needlessly put himself in danger or sacrifice himself.

There weren't many bodies left to him after this one. The more reckless he was, the closer he would push himself to the end of his existence, and that was foolish. He might have wanted that at one time, but not any more.

The need to put himself into dangerous situations had passed long ago. He still did it deliberately once in a while -- but only when it was required, and only when he felt that he had some chance, however slim, of coming through whatever was happening.

So why did he do stupid things like going to a planet that he knew wasn't a place he wanted to be? He must have more of a death wish than he'd thought. Or .... the Doctor shuddered at the thought that suddenly popped into his mind.

Maybe the Master was right, and there was something in him that enjoyed being physically broken. Maybe there was some sort of wiring in his brain that made him come back time and again for that sort of punishment.

No, that couldn't possibly be true. He'd never been the kind of person who enjoyed pain, and especially not in this body. He wanted to keep it as far away from himself as possible; he didn't go rushing headlong into danger simply so he could be hurt.

The Master wanted to believe that he enjoyed being hurt so that he would have some sort of excuse to do just that whenever they met. And the Doctor certainly wasn't going to give him more fuel to add to that fire. Not when it already seemed to burn so high.

How the Master would laugh if he heard about this! The Doctor winced again as he got to his feet, one hand moving between his legs to cup himself gingerly. He was still in pain, but it was manageable; he would feel better once he'd been able to sleep for a while.

A hot shower might be a good idea, too. The hot water would soothe the abrasions, though they would go away in a short while. Thank goodness for resilience of a Time Lord body, he told himself wryly. He never remained bruised for long.

He was still limping slightly as he made his way down one of the Tardis' corridors to the large bathroom, pushing open the door and going inside to lean on the marble-topped counter. He hadn't realized just how exhausted he was until that moment.

He didn't want to look at his reflection as he removed his clothes; the bruises weren't something that he needed to see. He could feel each one of them acutely, and that was more than enough for him to know that they were there.

At least he hadn't been thoroughly broken, the Doctor thought to himself as he bent over to adjust the hot water in the shower before he stepped inside. They hadn't resorted to rape, though he physical torture had come close to it.

It wasn't as though he hadn't had rather large objects shoved inside him before, he thought, wincing at the memory. Especially since he'd been in this body. That was one of the bad things about having an attractive body; it invited all sorts of unwanted advances.

But he wouldn't give up this body, not until he absolutely had to. He had to admit that he enjoyed being attractive, even if there were some drawbacks to that state. It certainly made looking in the mirror every morning when he shaved much more pleasant.

One hand moved between his thighs again, his breath hissing between his teeth as his fingers gently explored the area. His thighs were bruised, as were his testicles, but he'd managed to come through the situation intact, albeit in pain.

It seemed that humans weren't the only species that focused on the genitals as the best way to torture a male, he thought wryly, hissing again when his fingertips stroked over a particularly sensitive spot. At least he was fortunate in that he healed quickly.

The Doctor leaned against the cool tiles of the shower, closing his eyes and letting the hot water beat down on the front of his body. It was oddly relaxing to let the steam rise around him, the heat soothing his tense muscles.

He couldn't keep doing this. He had to be more careful the next time he went out to explore a planet that he'd never been to before; and he had to start listening to the warnings about places like that rather than thinking he could deal with whatever problems might come up.

If he let himself be broken time and time again physically, then at some point he would start breaking on a deeper, more inward level. And he couldn't let that happen. He couldn't let himself be broken down mentally or emotionally. It would destroy everything he was.

That wasn't going to happen. The Doctor took a deep breath, squaring his shoulders. He wasn't going to let himself be broken. And from now on, he was going to be much more cautious about throwing himself into the path of danger.

He hoped that he would be able to stick to that vow -- though if he was honest with himself, he probably wouldn't. Trouble wasn't something that he went out actively searching for, but somehow, it always seemed to know exactly where to find him.

The next time he decided to do something foolhardy, he'd try to have some sort of backup plan, he promised himself. If he couldn't keep himself from looking for trouble, at least it would provide him with a way out before his enemies had a chance to break him again.

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