bakerstreet | the hurt/comfort meme

the hurt/comfort meme

Hurt/Comfort - Hurt/comfort is a fan fiction genre that involves the physical pain or emotional distress of one character, who is cared for by another character. The injury, sickness or other kind of hurt allows an exploration of the characters and their relationship.

- Post with Character Name | Series in the subject.
- Others respond.
- Roll 1-10 at RNG for a scene, play it out and have fun!

1. INJURY. You've been injured. Broken bones or bleeding out or maybe just a tiny little papercut. The choice is yours.
2. SICKNESS. You're sick and laid up in bed, at home or in a hospital. The severity is up to you.
3. FEAR/ANXIETY. Something is happening and you're scared beyond belief.
4. LOSS OF SENSES. Sight, touch, taste, hearing, smell, etc. You've lost some important sense or ability and now you're left to deal with it.
5. DESPAIR. Nothing is good or right anymore and you can't shake the depression. Maybe that friend of yours can help though...
6. BREAKUP. You've been dumped. You need someone to comfort you, possibly by the one who dumped you.
7. MAKE UP. Fight or break up, it's time to makeup.
8. RESCUED. You've just been held captive and/or tortured for however long and finally, someone has come to the rescue.
9. BAD ROMANCE. Fight, cheated on, abused, whatever the case is, someone else can clearly see you need comfort from someone who isn't your terrible lover tonight.
10. LOSS. You've experience a loss of some kind and need help getting through it.
11. INSANITY. You're seeing things that aren't really there, hearing voices, or you're just convinced you're at your wit's end finally and you're going to crack. Maybe someone can give you a helping hand.
12. TIRED. You've had a heard life recently and you're just worn too thin to really care anymore. There's no fight left in you anymore. Can someone help change your mind?
13. ADDICTION. Drugs, alcohol, sex, gambling, or any other type of addiction has got you in its grasp. First time or relapse. Will someone be able to save you?
14. INSOMNIA. You can't sleep anymore, no matter how hard you try. Maybe someone can give you company.
15. NIGHTMARES. Or, on the other end of the spectrum, you can't sleep without gruesome, horrible nightmares. Either someone is stuck in your dream with you, witnessing it or they're just waking you up, soothing you out of it.
16. BLACKMAIL. You've been caught doing something you shouldn't and you were blackmailed because of it
17. SEPARATION. You're going to be separated for awhile or were separated for a long time. Either make up for lost time or try to spend every last moment together.
18. VIOLATED. You've been violated in some way. Can include sexual overtones or not. Can someone help you through it?
19. STRANDED. You've been stranded somewhere remote, with no help of anyone finding you for awhile. Can you survive this together?
20. SINS. You're feeling the weight of your sins and guilt clearer than ever. Can someone give you absolution or lessen the ache any?
21. SECRET. It's difficult having to keep that secret of yours, be it a relationship or something you just don't want to share with anybody else. Maybe it's okay to talk about it now though...
22. ADDITION. Babies should be joyous things unless you're in a situation where you know you won't be able to care for them. Either you've adopted or found out you're pregnant.

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[Info. No 22, please.]

[ The Doctor has learned in his long, long, long life that fights happen. Words are said--things that shouldn't be said. He's very good at that. After all, he knows more about where humanity is going than Fortescue knows. He's old and can be as cold as ice and hot as fire. But, he has also learned in this life that sometimes apologizing is what will save the few ties he has left.

After all, after River and the Ponds? All he has is the few companions he's met along side Clara.

So he parks the TARDIS outside her house and sits on the steps inside the control room. He has his specs on and a book in his hand. He's not really reading it, but waiting for Fortescue to enter. Because after everything? The Doctor is a coward when it comes to relationships. ]

[Fortescue isn't the bravest of human beings when it comes to people. A fire fight, sure, she can be counted on to go right in, and if people are otherwise in danger, she does what's required of her. But for a long time, she wasn't really allowed to get close to people, and somewhere during that time frame, she sort of lost the ability to navigate spats.

She's reading on her tablet when she receives a terse message from base command about the blue electrical shed, as they love to call it. Phone boxes had never really been a thing, in her London, and they never would have been wooden. Which is a shame, because phone box sounds a hell of a lot better than 'blue shed'. Gillingwater's asked her about the blue shed several times, and she's changed the subject on him every time. A girl's allowed her secrets.

It's not as if the blue shed's ever attacked the FoH.

Really, though, she considers making the Doctor wait it out, painfully, to see if the TARDIS will vanish again, if he'll get tired of waiting for her. But each time she thinks about it, fleetingly, the thought is stopped by a pain somewhere around her heart. It's the getting tired of her that she's afraid of. Moving on. Forgetting her. Not just from the Doctor, but in general. Fortescue has no illusions about who and what she is. Secrets are what keep people close to her.

But really, she can't be surprised when her secrets frustrate others. And so, Jazz on her shoulder and tablet in hand, she steps outside and through the doors of the TARDIS.]

You managed not to crush the flowers this time.

[She offers a bullet-proof smile, though smaller than usual.]

[ The Doctor has already done his bit of running. He ran all over the universe; saw the Galactic Sun Spires, walked the Milky Way (yes you can walk it). He's done so much running and every step he took had the reminder of Trenzalore. He'd stumble across it eventually - it has to happen. He'll have to live with the fact he'll die. Which, if he didn't owe anyone anything? It would be one thing. Except Fortescue is a person in a long line of disappointing and hurting others.

Something he's going to try and fix. If he can.

He turns the page in his book. ]

No, no. The TARDIS managed not to. She's the one that usually decides where to park. Once she parked in a mate of mine's flat. Not sure how she really fit in next to the laundry of knickers...

[Fortescue smiles just a bit brighter, gives the TARDIS console an admiring look. Even on a world full of hideously advanced technology, technology that sends people to another universe and more, the TARDIS is a marvel. She's so many things wrapped up in one.

Part of her wonders if Imperium, too, will get to this eventually. Maybe. Maybe not. All of that depends on whether or not they win the war with another world. A pressing responsibility of Fortescue's, and the FoH, and a reason that escapism is so enthralling.

Maybe they won't win it. Maybe she won't even see the age of forty.]

Oh, well then. Lovely job, darling. [She leans against the railing by the steps.] I appreciate you parking outside, even if it does rile the base up. Not sure if my rooms are tall enough for you, and that predicament seems uncomfortable.

[Turning her head, she takes in the Doctor reading and leans over to try and read the title of his book.]

[ The console in return whirls with a bunch of lights. The Gallifreyan writing turns up above them but otherwise, the TARDIS continues her usual hum. ]

She appreciates it. Clara doesn't give her too much fondness. For some reason, they really don't like each other. Though the TARDIS does seem to like you. [ He closes the book and sits up straight, pulling off the specs that are on his face. One hand holds the book and the other the glasses as his elbows rest on his thighs. ]

Oh, they'll get over it. Your Imperium is jumpier than UNIT. And that, Beth, is certainly saying something.

[It's certainly a mark of how much she likes the Doctor that she doesn't twitch, scowl and tell him not to call her that, like she does with everyone else. But coming from him, it doesn't sound so terrible. Not as many ghosts are as riled up as usual.

Besides, even feeling slightly cross toward him, he's pretty cute in those specs of his.]

FoH. They're even jumpier. Especially when things appear out of nowhere.

[Fortescue resists the urge to go along with his information, to lie about it being Imperium and not the war-torn fields of Germania out there. Truth. One small step at a time. Even if she isn't sure she wants to tell him what, exactly, is tearing the fields up. This is the Doctor, and, outside the TARDIS, two worlds are at war with one another.]

In the neighborhood, were you?

[ He only uses her name when he feels it is important. Just like Amelia. To him she is who she is, and if she prefers the last name then he rolls with it. This however--this moment--is too important for preferences of names or titles or the like.

Except him because he hides his real name, but that isn't the point. ]

Maybe we should go and bother them next. Could be fun. [ There is a tiny hint of mischief in his voice. Not too much though. ]

Something like that. The TARDIS just picks where to land sometimes. Never takes me where I want to go, but she takes me where I need to go.

Mm, I would say yes, but I like having a job. [She hurms.] Well, I sort of like having a job. Maybe if one of the few friends I've got wasn't in charge, I'd go unleash you on them.

[Fortescue says it quite wryly, as, of course, there's absolutely nothing she can do if the Doctor decides to go poking into the Federation. But she's not going to encourage him. Surely there are more entertaining things to poke that nose of his into. And his chin.

She chuckles.]

So, what do you need, then? Cup of sugar?

Who said they'd fire you? Last I checked, they can't as long as you've got that magic inside you. [ He raises his eyebrows as if to dare her to prove him wrong. Which, she probably would. Then he'd sulk. ] You can't unleash me like I'm some pet. I've got some dignity you know.

No idea. She brought me here for a reason. [ Actually he brought himself here, but, well, he's very bad at these apologies so. ]

[Reaching out, she fixes a stray strand of his hair, smirking.]

Yes, I suppose you have a drop. [Maybe even two drops.] Can't really argue on them firing me, I suppose. They don't have another Magi void traveler waiting in the wings to give them advice.

[Or she hopes not. Gate only knows what she'd do on her own. Drown her liver, maybe.]

I'm all out of sugar. Hopefully it wasn't that. [Fortescue waggles her eyebrows, elbows on the rail.] But if you asked me very nicely, you might find sugar of another measure.

[That's right. Flirting to get over the elephant in the room. She's a genius.]

Just a drop? Now who is being the rude one? [ There is that pout that he does oh so well. ] You truly are a rare bird then, aren't you? Makes you wonder what they've got planned for you long term.

Sounds like you ought to go and fix that then. You can't have a proper tea time in World War II without tea. [ The Doctor stands up, swinging himself off the rails of the steps and lands at the console. Then he leans against it, arms crossed. ]

Really? What sort? Sugar cane?

Boring, bureaucratic nonsense, I imagine. [The pout is one of those expressions that is hard to stay irritated at, luckily for the Doctor. Fortescue just gives him a Look for a minute, which isn't very effective when it comes after the eyebrow waggling.] Something involving a lot of talking and planning. It's all terribly dull around here, ninety percent of the time.

[And ten percent of the time, they're being attacked by people from a different universe. Or the TARDIS has landed. The latter is far, far preferable, of course.

Fortescue's expression shifts to a smirk, and she takes one single step towards the Doctor.]

I'm sure with that big... imagination of yours, you could work out what kind of sugar I'm talking about.

See if I take you out on any adventures then! [ The Doctor keeps his arms crossed but he does glance around. How does one do these apology things? It's like goodbyes. He's never been good at them at all. ] Sounds like you need a change of scenery then. Perhaps even a job change! I bet I could find you a job fair in the future.

[ He eyes her then the light bulb goes off. He makes a small "oh" sound before fretting a tad nervously. ]

Yes, well I am... a bit out of practice. There's a manual for those sort of things. Isn't there?

[Fortescue, still smirking, takes a few more steps. Not quite closing the distance between them, but nearly.]

You know, I'm not certain they do job fairs for people like me. They probably wouldn't even have spun sugar. No point.

[It's fun, for a few seconds, to think about life as a carny, perhaps. Moving around with a circus, doing tricks for applause, being part of a tight-knit little family. But it won't ever happen. Imperium will always find her, at least in her own universe. It's only with the Doctor that she gets to truly stretch her legs and get away from them.

A few more steps, and she reaches up to brush her fingertips against the Doctor's jaw. The fretting is endearing, it really is. Which is fortunate, in this case, with the whole apology thing.]

Oh, I imagine someone wrote a manual. But it wouldn't beat actual practice.

They don't need to know what you can do. It isn't like what they do here stays in practice in the future. That is the thing about war and technology. It changes.

[ He raises his eyebrows at her. Oh, Forestcue. When are you going to look at the future and not just the immediate war? Yes, yes. It is extremely hard. Given you live in the war and all.

The Doctor swallows before standing up straight. He reaches up and catches her wrist. That apology thing. ]

We might want to go find that manual then. I'm an alien you know.

[She doesn't think she deserves to look at a future. This is it. This is her penance for the things she was ordered to do — the things she carried out like a puppet on a string. A job she can barely stand with one of her few remaining friends as her boss.

A bad person does not deserve a happy ending.

And a good person does not do the things she has. She has so few firm footings in her life, she has to stick to these scant things she knows. If she's serving out some sort of penance, in this case protecting her world from another, perhaps she isn't so far off the deep end after all.

But that doesn't matter, right now, because the Doctor is holding her wrist, and giving her one of those serious looks.

Let it be said that Fortescue is easily distracted. By pretty eyes, at least. And by being very close to said pretty eyes.]

You might be thinking of a different sort of sugar, darling. Not that I'm complaining. [Her own eyes are twinkling.] You don't have an entire room full of manuals, do you? I've never seen you read one.

[ Now don't start saying that, Fortescue. Otherwise he is going to scold you for taking his spotlight of self-hating.

Try his list. He made it possible for his best friend to have her child stolen, brainwashed, and raised to be his killer. He made it possible for a good friend to be ripped apart by the time winds to be spread out over his timeline. His wife died and he put her memory in the biggest database in the universe, and only said goodbye when forced. He fought so many races and ended so many of their lives all in the name of peace. He isn't as good of a man as he pretends to be.

Good men don't need rules; he has plenty.

Now he is just simply confused. Which is par the norm around her. ]

Of course I do! I've got a library. It even has a pool in it. [ Not the point, Fortescue. He lets go of her wrist and steps back. ] Now. About the last time you saw me...

Somehow I'm not surprised you've got a library of just manuals. [Hopefully the TARDIS dusts. She smirks.] If you've got a pool, then you must have swim trunks.

[That's going to keep her imagination busy for a bit. Which is good, because otherwise she goes back to that self-loathing and the TARDIS must just be rolling her metaphorical eyes at them dueling for the miserable spotlight in that regard. Fortescue crosses her arms and cants her head to the side when he steps back, searching his expression.]

Yes? You're not going to get all cross again, are you? It's a cute look on you, but you have so many better looks.

No, actually. I just sort of... jump in. Like this. [ He gestures to himself. Clothes and all. Why is this going dangerously close to something romantic?

Oh, yes. Because she is Bethmora. ]

Only if you give me a reason to be cross, Bethmora. [ He slowly lets out a breath he had no idea he was holding. Then he rubs his hands together. Why is this so difficult? It'd be easier to just fly off somewhere. ] Don't you have anything to say about it?

[Fortescue swallows back a laugh, imagining him weighed down by his jacket and shoes and — one cannot forget — the bow tie. The laugh evaporates, anyway, when she sees how nervous he is. Or is it nerves? How is it that people are so easy to read until the information pertains to you on a personal level?]

I got into a habit a long time ago of not sharing personal information. People wouldn't like me if they knew all my dirty secrets, and being alone makes me... crazy. [She smiles, sadly, looking at the Doctor and weighing her options.] But. [Fortescue raises one hand to stroke his cheek.] If you want, from now on, I won't lock up when you ask me about my past.

[It makes her feel seven thousand different kinds of anxious, in truth, because in her mind it means potentially losing the Doctor. But he means a lot to her, and he does deserve the truth because of that.]

[ Because then it isn't just some job or some contract. It is someone you care about. Someone you find important and wonderful and amazing. All are things the Doctor sees in her. ]

Trust me. There is nothing you can do that I haven't done far worse. [ In a way she is like a kindred spirit. They have both done terrible things in a war in the name of peace. Would he be disappointed in her choices? Possibly. He usually is when it comes to humans.

He reaches up to hold her wrist again but doesn't remove her hand. ]

I would like that. Very much.

Okay. [Her smile turns more fond, less sad, and she leans up to kiss the tip of his nose quickly.] Then my secrets are all yours.

[Secrets which revolve around choices that weren't really choices at the time. Decisions made under pain, both emotional and physical. She doesn't attempt to justify them — she knows that they weren't great. But with most people, that's simply why she avoids talking about them. Not the Doctor, now, though. Not anymore. Even if it hurts.]

And the rest of me.

[Fortescue smirks, a bit of her usual twinkle back in her eyes.]

[ His eyes close at the kiss. It is hard to tell if he is enjoying it, or for some reason pained by the gesture. Does he really deserve her forgiveness? No, he doesn't. Silly old Doctor. After everything he has caused and everything he has done? How could he at all deserve the kindness or forgiveness she is offering him? He can't really.

Which is why when he opens his eyes, they seem to be asking for forgiveness. He can't share the secrets with her that she'll be sharing with him. It is far too dangerous and there are just some things that no one should know. Things he will take to his grave in Trenzalore. It isn't a rejection of her--no, no. Far from it. He simply just... can't.

He doesn't ask a question like he usually would (What do you mean the rest of you?). The silly him has slipped away for a moment. Instead he takes her hands in his and squeezes them in understanding. ]

Alright... yes. Okay. [ Then he nods. ]

[Fortescue was expecting the question. When it doesn't come, and he looks at her and takes her hands in his, she's surprised enough to playfully raise a brow. Before that searching, almost sad look to his eyes sets in and she twines her fingers with his.

She doesn't need anyone else's secrets. She understands that some things are better left unsaid. All she needs is acceptance, people who want her around, and she feels that now. Warmly, gratefully, she simply smiles, her smirk losing its edge.]

I'm glad we have that settled.

[While her hands are accounted for, joined with his, that doesn't stop her from leaning up and pressing a gentle but insistent kiss to his lips.]

Bethmora Fortescue ⎞ Original ⎞ ota

7 | oh dear.

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