Title: Tainted Angel
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: Tenth Doctor/Brendan Block
Fandom: Doctor Who/Secret Smile
Rating: PG-13
Table: VRD challenge - Red, 5_prompts
Prompt: Scarlet letter
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 sighed as he leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, looking out over the waves lapping against the golden sand of the beach. Though the sight in front of him was beautiful, it didn't ease the turmoil that plagued his soul.

As much as he wanted his life with the Doctor to settle into the easy rhythm that they'd had before that first disastrous meeting with teh Master, he knew that it wouldn't happen. Too much had taken place, too much that they hadn't fulled addressed yet.

The Doctor obviously didn't want to talk about what had happened; Brendan didn't blame him for that. His own rape was something that he could force into the back of his mind, but he couldn't ignore the effect that his violation had on the Doctor.

The Time Lord had seemed less inclined to talk about any kind of trouble now. And he was obviously doing his best to avoid bringing up the Master as topic of conversation. Brendan had seen his lover visibly wince when his enemy was mentioned.

After only three days of this, he was ready to force the Doctor into conversation on the subject if he had to. But how would that help? It would more than likely only make the Doctor turn away from him, or feel that he was being backed into a corner.

But they couldn't keep ignoring what had happened, Brendan thought with a sigh, drawing his knees up to his chest and propping his chin on them. The more they danced around the topic without mentioning it, the more tense and uncomfortable he felt.

It wasn't an easy topic for him to discuss -- but yet, he had to. He had to make it clear to the Doctor, once and for all, that what had been done to him wasn't the Time Lord's fault. He had to make the Doctor see that he didn't have to take any blame for the Master's actions.

More than that, he wanted to know exactly how the Doctor felt about the entire mess -- and how he looked at his lover now. The Time Lord had barely touched him the last three days, and Brendan couldn't help but wonder why, and worry that they were drawing apart.

His heart told him that the Doctor would never pull away from him because of what had happened, that the Time Lord was far too emotionally invested in their relationship to let barriers build up between them. But there was a part of him that wasn't so sure.

In some ways, he felt that he was wearing a scarlet letter, and that the Doctor would always see him as somehow being flawed because of what the Master had done to him; he couldn't shake the thought that he would always be tainted in the Time Lord's eyes.

Or maybe it wasn't the Doctor's way of looking at him that the was worried about, if he was completely honest with himself, Brendan thought, closing his eyes as though he could ward of the truth that way. It as he who saw himself in that light.

The Doctor would never think that he was flawed because of something that had been forced on him; he knew enough of his lover's past to know that the Doctor had been forced into the same situation more times than he could count.

No, it was his own perception of himself that made him feel as though he was tainted, forever wearing a scarlet letter that proclaimed him as damaged goods. No one else would know -- but he would always think of himself in that way.

The Doctor could tell him over and over again that he wasn't to blame in any way for what had happened -- and maybe a part of his mind would believe that. But deep in his heart, he would always see himself as carrying the Master's mark, a brand that could never be erased.

He would have to bring the subject up with the Doctor at some point -- they wouldn't be able to go much longer without getting their feelings out in the open. He was terrified to do it, but he was even more afraid of the growing unease between the two of them.

Brendan looked up as a shadow fell across the sand; the Doctor was standing next to the blanket he was sitting on, looking down at him with a slight smile on his face. Brendan reached up to take the Doctor's hand, pulling his lover down to sit next to him.

"I know what you're thinking about," the Doctor said softly, squeezing his hand. "And you don't have to worry, Brendan. I would never think less of you -- or think that you're 'damaged goods' in any way. That's not how I see you. Not now, and not ever."

Brendan closed his eyes, leaning his head against the Doctor's shoulder. He could feel some of the tension start to seep out of him when he heard those words; he had to make himself believe them. The Doctor wouldn't lie to him, not about something that important.

What was it going to take for him to stop feeling this way, to lose the fear and uncertainty that plagued him? How long would it have a hold on him, making him feel that there was a wall being built between himself and the man he loved that he would never be able to breach?

"He wants me to see you as belonging to him in some way, Brendan," the Doctor said, his voice soft and husky. "He wants me to view you as a tainted angel, as something tarnished and used. But I never will. To me, you'll always be the man I love with all my hearts. Nothing will ever change that."

"It's hard not to feel that I'm wearing a scarlet letter," he murmured, the words slipping out despite his desire to keep them hidden from his lover. "I'm afraid that you're always going to see me as being tainted, somehow. My heart knows that you won't, but --"

"But it's hard not to believe the things he wanted you to feel," the Doctor finished for him, his voice soft. "I know, Brendan, I know. He's done that to me before, too. It's his way of causing the most permanent damage that he possibly can."

"I won't let him damage me. I won't let him do that to us," Brendan said, his grip on the Doctor's hand tightening. "He can't hurt us unless we let him, right?" His voice was strained, his smile somewhat wobbly. But at least he was pushing the uncertainty away.

"No, he can't," the Doctor whispered, raising his free hand to stroke his fingers gently through Brendan's hair. Brendan leaned closer to his lover, closing his eyes and waiting for their lips to meet in a kiss that he knew would sweep away all of his fears -- at least for the moment.

***