Title: A Moment Like This
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: Tenth Doctor/Brendan Block
Fandom: Doctor Who/Secret Smile
Rating: R
Table: 5, 10_hurt_comfort
Prompt: 4, Anger
Warning: past non-con.
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 Brendan Block, unfortunately. Please do not sue.

***

Brendan stood under the shower spray, lifting his face and closing his eyes, letting the water trickle down his face and over his body. He felt his muscles start to relax, slowly, the sense of wariness that he maintained all the time lately beginning to melt away.

Normally, he would want the Doctor here in the shower with him; he'd probably even want to make love to the Time Lord under the warm spray. But their sex life hadn't been the same since the encounter with the Master -- and he couldn't help wondering if it ever would be.

The Doctor still loved him, he knew that. The Time Lord had made that clear; Brendan was grateful for that love and support, the emotional closeness between them that had become even stronger over the past week since they had made it back to the Tardis.

He loved the Doctor more than he ever had, with a fierce protective love that almost startled him. Would he have felt this way about anyone else if they'd witnessed what had been done to him? No, he sincerely doubted it. What they shared was deeper and more enduring than love.

Their emotions weren't the problem, Brendan thought with a sigh, reaching for the raspberry-scented soap and absently lathering his chest with it. No, it was the physical side of their relationship that had been presented with a brick wall that they couldn't climb over.

He'd thought at first that the situation would get better with time, that he would be able to relax and that they could go back to normal. But it had been a week now, and so far, that hadn't happened. Though not for lack of trying, he told himself wryly.

They still slept in the same bed every night, in each other's arms. But there was a wall between them, as much as their emotional closeness had grown. Neither of them wanted to acknowledge that it was there, yet neither of them could break through it.

Brendan's hands clenched into fists at the thought; he turned towards the tiled wall of the shower, pounding his fists against it over and over again. The pain hardly mattered to him; there was no other way for him to alleviate his frustration.

He didn't feel like a victim any more; he was angry that what had been done to victimize both himself and the Doctor had come between them, destroying their physical closeness more effectively than anything else could possibly have been able to do.

But that had been the Master's plan all along, hadn't it? he asked himself bitterly. That monster had wanted to turn them away from each other, and hurt them as much as possible in the process. And it seemed that he'd been able to do just that.

The anger burst forth, unable to be kept down any longer. Brendan let out an incoherent scream, his fists pounding the tile again, trying to find a way to get the anger out and push it away from him rather than let it simmer inside until it boiled over.

He didn't notice that his knuckles were raw and bleeding; all he could focus on was the Master's face in his mind's eyes, that salacious grin that he'd had on his face when he'd been torturing the Doctor. He wanted to wipe that grin away, pound it into obivion.

He wanted to wipe out all traces of that monster in the universe -- after he made that madman pay for any pain that he'd ever caused the Doctor. If he could do that, then it would be worth any sacrifice he might have to make, Brendan told himself.

No, not worth any sacrifice, he thought a moment later, his hands falling limply to his sides. Nothing would be worth losing the Doctor. Any kind of revenge that he could take against the Master wasn't worth risking the loss of the man he loved more than life.

He gasped and whirled around in the shower when he heard a knock on the closed door, nearly falling and only keeping himself from doing so by steadying himself against the wall. Dimly, he heard the Doctor's voice, his tone concerned and .... even a little frightened.

"Brendan? Are you all right?" The Doctor's voice sounded breathless, as though he might have run down the corridor from wherever he was to the bathroom door. "I heard you scream. What happened? Can I come in?" The words tumbled out in a rush, one on top of the other.

"Yes, you can come in." Brendan's voice was hoarse when he spoke; he turned around slowly, facing the shower curtain as the door opened and the Time Lord came into the bathroom. Slowly, Brendan reached to turn off the shower, then pull the curtain back.

He was glad that he'd had the sense to actually bathe before he'd let his anger overwhelm him; his time in the shower hadn't been wasted. Not that it made much difference, he reflected; time wasn't something that he really had to worry about any more, was it?

It might be, if he and the Doctor couldn't mend their relationship and set things right between them again. He might find himself back on Earth, with nothing more than memories of the man he loved, nursing an anger against the Master that he would never be able to assuage.

"Brendan, what did you do?" The Doctor's words ended on a gasp; he reached out to take Brendan's hands in his own, glancing at his lover's face with a worried frown. "Your hands are bleeding. Let's get you to the infirmary and bandage them."

"I .... pounded my fists against the wall," Brendan admitted in a low voice. "I'm sorry to worry you, Doctor. I just needed to hit something. And better to hit the wall in the shower than to take any aggressions out on you," he murmured, not looking at the Time Lord.

"I know you're angry," the Doctor whispered, his voice hoarse with emotion. "I am too, Brendan. But we can't change what's happened. All we can do is move forward from here -- and not let what he'd done make us drift away from each other."

"We already are," Brendan told him, the words slipping out before he could stop them. He could have bitten off his tongue for saying those words, but he knew that it was true. After all, the Doctor was barely touching him. That was all the proof he needed.

If he'd pounded his fists bloody before all of this had happened, for any reason, the Doctor would have wrapped those thin arms around him, stroked his hair, asked him what was wrong and how he could fix it. Now, he was merely holding Brendan's hands and looking concerned.

The Doctor didn't want to touch him. That was obvious. He held Brendan when they were in bed, but now -- he wanted to turn away, to cover himself and go somewhere that he could be alone, to mourn what he was sure would be the dissolution of all that he'd shared with the Doctor.

But the Time Lord didn't give him a chance to do any of those things. He slipped his thin arms around Brendan's waist, pulling him close, raising a hand to stroke his hair. Brendan swallowed hard, holding back a sob that rose unbidden to his lips.

His own arms were around the Doctor, his fingers clutching at the other man. He didn't want to let go, didn't want to move away from the Time Lord. He wanted to stand here in the Doctor's arms, to let the feeling of safety and security flood over him.

"I'm angry at him too, Brendan," the Doctor whispered, his breath warm against Brendan's cheek. "But I refuse to let him come between us. Take that anger and channel it where it belongs -- towards what he did to you. To both of us. But don't let it poison you."

"I'm terrified that this is going to put up a wall between us," Brendan whispered, finally letting all of his fears come to the surface and come out in spoken words. "I'm afraid that we're going to drift further and further apart until we can't find each other any more."

The Doctor pulled back slightly, taking Brendan's face between his hands and gazing into the other man's eyes. "No, Brendan," he whispered, shaking his head. "That isn't going to happen. I still love you just as much as ever. Maybe even more. You are never, never going to lose me."

"But you don't want me," Brendan managed to say, before his throat constricted and he knew that no more words would come unless tears came with them. He bowed his head, fighting to hold back those tears, not wanting to break down at a moment like this.

"Not want you?" The Doctor sounded genuinely surprised. "Brendan, I want you more than I've ever wanted anyone. I was under the impression that you weren't ready to be touched -- or to touch me. I don't want to rush you, love .... but you couldn't be more wrong about me not wanting you."

Brendan lifted his head, his eyes widening in surprise, another wave of relief crashing over him. He'd been wrong -- more wrong than he would have believed. The Doctor wanted him; he'd been foolish to think otherwise. And he wanted to rectify his foolishness right now.

"Would you say no to going back to our bedroom and making love?" he whispered, knowing that it wasn't exactly seductive to state his desires so baldly, but not caring. All he wanted to do was make love to the Doctor, to hold his lover in his arms and be with him.

"What would I say to that?" The Time Lord tilted his head to the side, attempting to look thoughtful. "I'd say that it's a marvelous idea -- even though I may be a bit overdressed." He looked down at the jeans and t-shirt he was clad in with a soft laugh, spreading his hands in a helpless gesture.

"We can take care of that along the way," Brendan murmured, his heart skipping a few beats. He couldn't wait to get the Doctor back to their bedroom; the wall between them had crumbled to the ground within the last few minutes, and he wanted to make sure that it stayed that way.

***