Fight or Flight ( Doctor Who Fanfiction )

Refusal

I rolled out of bed not even a second after he finished, and left him gasping.

"You... keep... leaving," he complained.

"I can't stay here all night, Angel. I have things to do."

"It's been..." He panted, looking at his watch that I hadn't bothered to remove. "Five minutes. Did you even - ?"

"Yes, of course I came," I lied through my teeth.

"No," he said immediately, covering his face. "You didn't. You haven't in weeks. And you won't let me help. You barely look at me. You're not enjoying this."

I let out a frustrated grunt as I finished pulling my shirt over my head. "What is the problem?" I demanded. "Maybe I don't want your help."

"Something's wrong, Omara. You were happy before the break in Leadworth, but ever since then you've just... stopped."

"Stopped what?"

"Stopped caring."

"What makes you think I cared in the first place?"

He stared at me. Someone else might have been offended, but he could tell I was lying. He just looked exasperated.

"Stop it. What's wrong?"

"No, no, no, this is not what we do." I pushed myself to my feet. "We don't talk about our day. We don't ask each other what's wrong."

"Omara, please." He sat up finally, and I finished putting on my shoes. "I'm - I'm not happy."

I scoffed. "Well, I can see that. I don't know what you want me to do about it."

"Talk to me, Omara!"

"No!" I snapped. "You have your secrets, Doctor, and have I ever pressed you about those? Yet, you think you're entitled to everyone else's. You think you can have - can ask whatever you want and I am somehow honor-bound to answer you; I'm not!"

He looked confused, and almost like he might cry.

I'd never seen him cry before, and I didn't want to start now.

"What happened, 'Mara? What have I done, why are you so angry with me?"

"I'm not angry!"

He buried his face in his hands and looked pitiful, sitting there among the tangled sheets. He wasn't quite himself when we slept  together. He was softer, more open, and lately I was nothing but cold and sharp.

He'd tried to ask before, while he watched me leave, but never pressed as hard as he did now.

I stood there, fully clothed, hand on the door. For a moment, I wanted to go to him. I hated to see him so upset, but I also didn't know how to fix it; I couldn't tell him why I was acting like this, because I hardly knew myself. When he asked why I was angry, the only reason I could conjure was the image of his body collapsing into beach.

All I could see was the stars above the hood of a red station wagon.

A bloodred dawn and the way he laughed against my shoulder when I stumbled while trying to stand. Who the hell was that man?

He dropped his hands into his lap, and looked at me. His eyes were tired. Drained.

"I'm sorry," I said softly. fingers threading around the door handle. "I... can't."

He said nothing. He just nodded, looking disappointed.

I slipped through the door and tried to shake the lingering feeling of hands on my skin.

*

When I finally reached the control room, the Doctor was already there: clean, manicured and redressed.

We both slowed down a moment when we saw each other, and I looked at the floor.

"Amy and Rory?" I asked.

"On their way," he said simply.

For a second I considered turning around and walking back out, and waiting to come back until I heard their voices.

"About this morning," he began.

I refused to look at him. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Maybe don't talk, then." His voice was sharper than I was used to, but by the time I had looked up he'd collected himself. "I deleted the room we've been meeting in. If you don't want to tell me what's wrong, or what's changed, fine. But we are not doing that again. That was... insane. Neither of us have enjoyed ourselves in that damn bed, so I'm being sensible for the both of us."

I'm not sure what I expected, but somehow it wasn't this. Being cut off completely?

I stared at him. surprised.

"Never asked to be a chore for you to grit your teeth through," he muttered, almost to himself. Then he looked me hard in the eye. "I don't know what it is you want, Omara, but it isn't me."

I almost grabbed at him then: to be held? To shout that he was being unfair even though he was being more reasonable than either of us had been in weeks? Despite how this was a far fairer response than I deserved? To tell him it was all a mistake, and I didn't mean any of what I said, even though I meant every word?

I didn't move.

"So, where to?"

I nearly jumped out of my skin when the Williamses rounded the corner, smiling at us. The Doctor grinned at them like nothing had happened.

Like he hadn't just dropped me into freefall like I was a plate that proved too hot for him.