This could prove to be interesting.

[or_timelords]

from laser_not_sonic

If you woke up one morning and found me in your bed, what's the first thing you'd think or say?

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[watch-is-me.livejournal.com]

And his irritation and concern both peak as his other loses consciousness, slipping out of his mind and falling against him. He's already supporting most of his other's weight, so he manages to keep his balance, holding his other up with an arm under each of his. The other Doctor's head lolls against his chest, smearing blood over his jacket and his jumper. This is why black is practical.

The Doctor sighs, and the barest haze of golden energy gusts out of him with his breath. He has to get his other to the sick bay soon, get away from him himself; he might still be a danger. Radioactive? Mm. That ought to work wonders for their relationship; it's been going so well so far.

You took them away. Took what away? What did his other mean? Something about the TARDIS, the merge had gone wrong, gone too far, and that fits with his own sense of a terrible open place in his mind, like a cavern too deep to look into without vertigo, a sky too broad, like looking up into the stars at night and feeling he might spin off into the sky. That must be her. His TARDIS. Them. Memories that don't fit in him, anymore.

His chest constricts, a feeling like fear. What had they done? The drums had been there, of course they had been, they had to have, and now his other was blind and bleeding and he had to hurt him...to do what?

And dark memories that weren't his, helplessness and infection and changing and than being expected not to show the change. He can't remember them, except in snatches of emotion. Familiar emotions, expressed and dealt with differently.

No use thinking about it all now.

He hefts his other up over his shoulder, in an awkward fireman's carry, this man who weighs precisely the same as he does, and hauls him through the doors of his TARDIS, down the hallways, to his sickbay.

It's a long walk, and the smell of blood and the shaking of his other's damaged body against his back and shoulder don't make it any easier or more pleasant, but he manages it. As soon as he's in the door, he gets his other into the Cell Regeneration Vault, a casket-like device specifically designed to sap radiation from the body, and sets the Advanced Diagnostic Terminal running. Let's see what the problem is.

[time-dimensions.livejournal.com]

She witnessed it all, vicariously, through the connection to her sister and her Time Lord. Silly Time Lord, he should know better than to play with these forces, he especially should, but of course he doesn't. He forgot. And she helped him forget, because there's no point in remembering, not for him, because he's unable to understand, and it would only hurt him.

But of course, he had to go ahead and provoke the memories, had to hurt himself anyway. Because he always needs to know, always needs to figure it all out. Silly, silly Time Lord.

She can feel that he's hurt, sees what her sister did to keep his mind from breaking apart under the strain of the drums. She knows it was necessary, and it will pass. And when it passes, the drums will return, and he will remember. And it will be up to him, and to her, to make sure his fragile corporeal existence won't be damaged beyond repair.

Oh, Doctor. Is knowledge really worth all this?

The other Doctor is bringing her Time Lord home, and the TARDIS clears the way for him, opening the doors and making sure they reach the infirmary safely. The experiment itself has hurt her Time Lord as well, coming into contact with her sister's essence is tearing him up from the inside. The other Doctor is different, he's carrying some of his TARDIS in himself, and it's protecting him. Protecting him, and hurting her Time Lord. But she can't send him away, her Doctor needs someone to take care of him. Silly Time Lords, they should know better than to take risks like that.

The other Doctor hands her Time Lord over to her, and she takes care of him. The damage is extensive, not lethal, but it's worse than he's been in a while. She uses the machines to let the other Doctor know what he needs, and after that, she will make her Time Lord sleep. Sleep will cure him, it always does. And when he's cured, she will have to be there to keep the memories away. To keep the drums from seeping back into his mind, although she's not sure if that's even possible still. They've been laid bare, and this time, they're not part of a paradox that needs reversing. This time, they might be there to stay.