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find_rightbrainTitle: Asleep Inside the Cannon's Mouth
Characters/Pairing: The Doctor, April and Tosh
Word Count: 500
Rating: PG-13
Summary: You'll walk unscathed through musket fire...
Notes: Because this song wasn't full of break anyway. Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
justprompts, originally posted at the Doctor's journal (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
thatsortofaman).
Disclaimer: The Doctor and Toshiko Sato belongs to the BBC. I am not affiliated with the BBC, and am not making any money from this. April belongs tostarletfallen. The Rift eats souls, which everyone really should know by now.
It's not what the Doctor would call quiet, except relatively, in the sense that no one's screaming. But across the room, Toshiko's crying so quietly he almost can't hear her, and April's still trembling in his arms, wrapped in Thane's heavy leather coat, her breathing just as shaky. This isn't quiet, this is what happens when the screaming is tamped down and locked away, and it may not make it out of anybody's throat, but it's vibrating in the air, the quavering single note of a violin before the orchestra starts in. This is something about to break.
Maybe he's the only one who can hear it. Maybe Toshiko's too much in shock, April too psychically numb by this point to feel it. He doubts it, because even with every door in his head locked tight, barred shut and barricaded for good measure, it's still almost deafening.
They should all be sleeping now. Well, the other two, at least. It's not late, but none of them have slept for ages, not really, all of them waiting for the sound of Thane's footsteps returning. The lack of sleep is helping nothing.
The Doctor shifts his grip on April a little, moving his hand to rest against hers. The movement shifts the handcuffs on his wrists, and he grimaces a little as the metal rubs against the raw skin underneath it. He's had worse. Slowly, cautiously, he eases open one of those doors in his mind, just enough to reach into April's.
He wishes immediately that he hadn't. It's all shattered glass inside, delicate and carefully constructed mental structures in razor shards, and it hurts just to exist there. He doesn't pull out yet, because it has to be worse for her. He wants to fix it, but all he can do is smooth it over, blunt the edges, push the pain aside for another day... April goes limp in his arms, her breathing evens out, and he pulls her closer, resting his chin on the top of her head. He's never thought she's as fragile as she looks, but he's starting to doubt that.
With a thought, he reaches out, sends Tosh to sleep as well. She's still curled into herself, by the wall where he can't reach her, but the tension of her muscles eases, the staccato rhythm of her breathing slides into something slower and calmer, and then it's just him, alone in the silence.
Everything hurts, and Thane has hardly touched him - except for his wrists he hasn't got a single injury, and that's minor, easily ignored. It's fear and anger knotting his muscles, it's useless, helpless rage settled in his chest like a lump of cold iron, it's the growing knowledge that rescue isn't coming, or it is but not in time, and the realization of how this ends.
It would be easier if none of them walked out of this, because he's tired of being the only one to walk out of hell unscathed.
Characters/Pairing: The Doctor, April and Tosh
Word Count: 500
Rating: PG-13
Summary: You'll walk unscathed through musket fire...
Notes: Because this song wasn't full of break anyway. Written for
justprompts, originally posted at the Doctor's journal (thatsortofaman).Disclaimer: The Doctor and Toshiko Sato belongs to the BBC. I am not affiliated with the BBC, and am not making any money from this. April belongs to
starletfallen. The Rift eats souls, which everyone really should know by now.It's not what the Doctor would call quiet, except relatively, in the sense that no one's screaming. But across the room, Toshiko's crying so quietly he almost can't hear her, and April's still trembling in his arms, wrapped in Thane's heavy leather coat, her breathing just as shaky. This isn't quiet, this is what happens when the screaming is tamped down and locked away, and it may not make it out of anybody's throat, but it's vibrating in the air, the quavering single note of a violin before the orchestra starts in. This is something about to break.
Maybe he's the only one who can hear it. Maybe Toshiko's too much in shock, April too psychically numb by this point to feel it. He doubts it, because even with every door in his head locked tight, barred shut and barricaded for good measure, it's still almost deafening.
They should all be sleeping now. Well, the other two, at least. It's not late, but none of them have slept for ages, not really, all of them waiting for the sound of Thane's footsteps returning. The lack of sleep is helping nothing.
The Doctor shifts his grip on April a little, moving his hand to rest against hers. The movement shifts the handcuffs on his wrists, and he grimaces a little as the metal rubs against the raw skin underneath it. He's had worse. Slowly, cautiously, he eases open one of those doors in his mind, just enough to reach into April's.
He wishes immediately that he hadn't. It's all shattered glass inside, delicate and carefully constructed mental structures in razor shards, and it hurts just to exist there. He doesn't pull out yet, because it has to be worse for her. He wants to fix it, but all he can do is smooth it over, blunt the edges, push the pain aside for another day... April goes limp in his arms, her breathing evens out, and he pulls her closer, resting his chin on the top of her head. He's never thought she's as fragile as she looks, but he's starting to doubt that.
With a thought, he reaches out, sends Tosh to sleep as well. She's still curled into herself, by the wall where he can't reach her, but the tension of her muscles eases, the staccato rhythm of her breathing slides into something slower and calmer, and then it's just him, alone in the silence.
Everything hurts, and Thane has hardly touched him - except for his wrists he hasn't got a single injury, and that's minor, easily ignored. It's fear and anger knotting his muscles, it's useless, helpless rage settled in his chest like a lump of cold iron, it's the growing knowledge that rescue isn't coming, or it is but not in time, and the realization of how this ends.
It would be easier if none of them walked out of this, because he's tired of being the only one to walk out of hell unscathed.