Title: Unacceptable Losses
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: Tenth Doctor/Ten.5
Fandom: Doctor Who
Rating: PG-13
Table: 4
Prompt: 85, Mortality
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 sat up in the chair by the bed with a gasp, blinking and looking around him. He hadn't meant to fall asleep; he'd wanted to be awake when John woke up, but he'd been so exhausted by the constant vigil by his lover's side that he'd allowed himself to drift off, though he had no idea how long he'd been asleep.

One swift glance towards the still, silent figure in the bed told him that John hadn't awakened yet; he was still sleeping, though his breathing was much easier and normal now. He'd managed to get his lover to Torchwood in time. John wasn't going to die.

He'd had a few anxious hours while Owen had been examining John; the young doctor hadn't allowed the Time Lord to be in the room while he was caring for the worst of the other man's wounds. But the look on his face when he came out of that room had made the Doctor slump against Jack, feeling faint with relief.

Owen had told them that John would be all right, though it might take him some time to recover from his injuries. He'd seemed reluctant to tell them just what those injuries were, until the Doctor had told him to let it out, tell them the worst.

What Owen had told them had only confirmed the Doctor's fears. It was fairly obvious that John had been raped, but he'd been hoping, in the deepest confines of his hearts, that the man he loved hadn't had to go through that. He should have known it was a vain hope.

Still, John was alive -- and that was what he had to focus on. His lover hadn't been torn from him irrevocably, as Hart had threatened that he would be. He'd been incredibly lucky that the man had such a short fuse when it came to patience; if he didn't, then he could have walked right into a trap that would have annihilated both himself and the man he loved.

Jack had told him as much, nearly scolding him for going there alone to rescue John. He'd only half-listened to what the immortal had said, finally turning on Jack with clenched fists and hissing out words that he hadn't thought about before he spoke.

"Don't you dare preach to me, Jack Harkness. This wasn't anything to do with you. Yes, I asked you for help, but I wasn't about to risk John's life by involving you in an obvious way. It was up to me to take the risks, not anyone else. And if it had come down to me sacrificing myself to save John, I'd have done it in a moment, without even thinking about it."

The immortal had looked startled for a moment, then he'd nodded and fallen silent. He obviously hadn't realized just how deep the Doctor's feelings for John went; but now he knew, and the Time Lord was glad of it. Maybe now he wouldn't have to listen to any more diatribes about how he should give John up to someone who didn't love him, and only wanted to use him.

That wasn't going to happen, he told himself firmly, fixing his eyes on John's face. This man was his, in every way possible. John was the love of his life, the man he'd given his hearts to. There was no way the Doctor would give him up to someone else, not for any reason.

He wanted to reach out and touch John, sit down on the bed and cradle that slender body in his arms, protect John from anything that could possibly happen to him. But that wasn't possible, and he knew it. He'd already failed to protect John once, and that had deeply shaken his confidence that he would be able to protect either of them if the need should arise again.

No, not if. When. There were so many variables in his life, so many chances for John to be thrown into the path of danger. Would it be safer for the man he loved to not be with him, to have gone away and never have been a part of his life?

The Doctor closed his eyes, his breath hitching in his throat as he swallowed hard. Of course it would have been safer for John if he hadn't stayed. But they would have both been desperately unhappy -- he knew that, and he was sure that John did, too.

But did that give him the right to put John into the kind of danger that he would more than likely have to face on a daily basis with him? No, it didn't, he told himself, the thought coming into his mind reluctantly, but refusing to slink away and disappear. He couldn't make that decision for the other man. It had to be John's choice, and his alone.

He'd never really had to face mortality before, not for himself. He'd always known that if he was threatened with death, he would simply regenerate into a new body, and it had never mattered much to him what sort of body he would have. It had just .... never occurred to him to care.

Now, though -- now, everything had changed. He'd had to deal with people he cared for dying, of course. Mortality wasn't a new concept to him, he'd just never had to think of it in terms of his own death. Not a final death, at any rate.

John was human. He would, in time, age and die. The Doctor had thought he'd managed to accept that, that he would be able to resign himself to a life without John when that time came. But could he? He'd thought it would be possible, before this had happened -- but now that he'd come so close to losing John, he didn't think he would be able to cope with the actual loss when it happened.

He had never been so close to falling apart as when he'd come to Jack, telling him what John Hart had done and pleading for his help to find out where Hart had taken his lover. It had only been by an amazing stroke of luck that Jack had been able to track them down.

And he had gone to rescue John on his own, without telling Jack that he was going. He'd agreed to formulate some kind of plan with the immortal and the Torchwood team, one that would allow them to get John out of there, and allow Jack to confront that spectre from his past.

The Doctor knew that Jack had his own agenda with Hart -- and he wasn't going to hold the Torchwood leader back from that. But that was Jack's affair, not his. His only concern had been with getting John out of there unharmed -- and he'd achieved that, though he did feel a bit guilty for blatantly going against what he and Jack had agreed to do.

At least he'd managed to get both himself and John away from there safely, he reminded himself -- and Jack's annoyance at him for placing himself at risk had been a small price to pay. He would have risked much, much more to ensure John's safety, if he'd had to.

He'd told Jack those words flatly, point-blank, not caring what the immortal might happen to think of his reasoning. He was exhausted, both emotionally and physically, and he had more important things on his mind -- like John's physical condition -- than worrying about what Jack thought of him. He'd done what he felt he had to do, and to him, that was the only thing that mattered.

In spite of his physical exhaustion, he hadn't been able to let himself sleep, or even let the tension seep out of his body, until Owen had told him that John would be all right. He didn't ask the young doctor just how close he'd come to losing his love -- he didn't want to think about that.

No one had disturbed him since he'd sat down in this chair, keeping a vigil at John's bedside, wanting to be there when his human self awoke. He'd come to quite a few conclusions in the time he'd spent sitting here, and made silent vows to himself as well.

He wasn't going to put John in that kind of a situation again. He'd be more careful, make sure that he watched out for his lover with an eagle eye. After all, Hart was still out there -- and so was the Master. Either of them would love to get their hands on John again, and use him to manipulate the Doctor in any way that they could.

And now, Hart would have even more reason to do so, he thought, a coldness creeping into his hearts, making his body shiver convulsively. It would be even harder to protect John, but he'd have to do it, in any way that he could. And if that meant sacrificing himself, then he would do it. For him, it wasn't a choice. It was simply what he had to do.

His sacrifices had gone unnoticed in the past; no matter what he'd done for the world, or for the people in it, only a few who knew him had known of what he'd had to give up -- or cared. And he'd wanted it that way -- even now, he wouldn't have wanted what he'd done to be acknowledged.

John's life was worth any sacrifice he might have to make -- including his own life. He knew that John would disagree with him, and so would Jack. But that didn't matter; John's mortality had been forcibly pointed out to him in the past few days, and he would gladly sacrifice the long life span that he'd been granted simply by virtue of his race if it would keep the man he loved alive.

Whatever it took, he was going to make sure that John would be safe. He wasn't going to leave his lover behind or force them to be parted -- but he would make sure that he didn't throw John into the path of any sort of danger, or take the slightest chance that some harm might come to him.

As if in response to his thoughts, John's eyelashes fluttered, and he turned his head to the side, a soft groan slipping from his lips. The Doctor reached for his hand, wanting his lover to know that he was there, that he was safe and that he wasn't alone.

The Doctor waited for John's eyes to open and focus; one hand was grasping John's, the other stroking through the other man's hair. He felt choked, incapable of speech; he was almost sure that if he had to force words out, they would turn into sobs. He'd come so close to losing this man, yet somehow he hadn't. John was still alive, still here with him.

The mortality of humans had never been driven home to him so powerfully before. He'd always known they were limited in their life spans -- but he'd never realized just how devastating the loss of a human life would be to his own life. Not until he'd been faced with losing John.

John's death would have been an unacceptable loss, a loss that would have torn him apart in so many ways that he knew he would never have been able to recover. If he'd lost this man, he would have been an empty shell, feeling that he had no reason left to keep existing.

He blinked a few times, trying to keep back tears and feeling them recede to the point where he felt that he could speak. But a few escaped, streaking down his face, and he didn't try to wipe them away -- even though he knew that John would see them and be concerned.

"Don't cry," John whispered, reaching out with his free hand to brush the tears away from the Time Lord's cheeks. "There's no reason for you to cry, is there?" He gave the Doctor a weak smile, wincing a little as he did so. "I don't know how you found me, but you did. We're both safe. I owe you my life, love. I can't ever repay you for that."

"Shhh," the Doctor intoned, placing one finger against John's lips. "You don't need to repay me for anything. I'd have found you no matter what it took -- you know that. I'd have moved heaven and Earth -- and any galaxy that might have been in my way -- to bring you back to me."

"He'll still be looking for you, won't he?" John asked, his voice low and almost inaudible. "He's not going to give up, not now that you've kept him from achieving his purpose. We're never going to be safe, no matter where we hide. He'll always be lurking out there, ready to strike again."

The Doctor nodded reluctantly, not wanting John to think about the narrow escape he'd had, but knowing that it was probably inevitable that he did. "We'll just have to be even more careful from now on, love. It won't be easy, but we'll manage."

"As long as we don't lose each other, we'll be all right," John whispered, his voice sounding weak and slightly breathless. "I .... when he had me there, and I didn't know where you were, all I could think of was that I didn't want you to die because of me. I couldn't have borne that, to know that you'd sacrificed yourself for me. Don't ever do that. Not for me."

The Doctor frowned a bit, shushing his lover again with another finger pressed to his lips. "You need to rest, John. Just lie back and try to sleep. That's the best thing for you at the moment. We can worry about everything else later."

John nodded, sighing and closing his eyes. Within moments, his breathing had slowed, his chest rising and falling with each breath. The Doctor closed his eyes, feeling tears rising again but determined not to let them fall. He hadn't expected to hear something so selfless from John, though he probably should have. He was that kind of man.

He wasn't going to tell John that he'd gone to track Hart down with every intention of sacrificing himself for his lover, if he'd had to. John wouldn't be happy with that thought -- and he didn't need to know. Did he? No, the Doctor told himself firmly. It would only agitate him, and make him feel guilty. What he didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

He sighed softly, watching the other man sleep, wishing that he didn't have to keep anything from John but knowing that it was best to do so -- at least for the moment. John needed to rest and recover from what he'd been through; he didn't need another worry on top of all the others.

Of course, he would probably have to discuss all this with John sometime. The Doctor closed his eyes, tightening his fingers around John's slender, delicate hand. He was going to sit here for as long as he had to, until John woke up again and he could take his love back to the Tardis.

They would both have to deal with the repercussions of the rape, and that was going to take some time. The Doctor cringed inwardly, remembering the times that he'd been through that himself, and wishing more than anything that John hadn't had to endure it. But he had; they couldn't change it, and they would both have to deal with it one day at a time.

He yawned, trying to settle himself more comfortably in the chair, propping his chin on his hands and keeping his eyes on John. This was probably going to be a long night -- but at least he had the man he loved with him, safe from harm. And he intended to keep it that way.

***