Title: Not Fade Away
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: Tenth Doctor/Michael Cutter
Fandom: Doctor Who/Law & Order
Rating: R
Table: 100_tales
Prompt: 19, Purple
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 Michael Cutter, unfortunately. Please do not sue.

***

Michael stepped into the bathroom, closing the door firmly behind him. He hesitated for a moment, intending to lock it, but then decided against doing that. If John tried to open the door for some reason, finding it locked could make him panic.

Besides, he didn't want to lock the door. He had to force himself not to look over his shoulder, not to feel as though he was being followed everywhere he went. He couldn't spend the rest of his life living in fear. He wouldn't be reduced to that.

It was bad enough that he was forced to take some time away from work. He hadn't wanted to do that, but McCoy had insisted. And so had John. In fact, John had been adamant about him staying in bed and taking care of himself.

He should have expected that from his lover. After John had found him, the other man had been anxious not to leave his side; he'd hovered over Michael, as though he'd worried that the hospital wouldn't take care of him properly.

But they had, he thought with a sigh. They'd done everything they could to make him comfortable, and to help with the pain. Even though he hated hospitals, he'd been there for two days, until they'd said that he would be all right on his own at home.

And after two days here, he still felt .... alienated, as though he didn't fit into his own life. He wasn't comfortable in his own skin any more.

John was doing his best to make sure that he was comfortable -- Michael was grateful that his lover was there, at his side every moment. If he hadn't had John, he would probably have gone completely insane by now.

He had to wonder, though, just what John was doing about his work. How could he be here every moment of every day? But the other man had brushed his questions aside, saying that Michael was more important than anything else in his life.

Thank goodness for John. What would he have done without the calm, comforting presence of his lover? It was chilling to realize that he could so easily not have John in his life -- that he could be alone without any kind of emotional support.

Michael began to undo the buttons on his shirt, his hands working slowly, reluctant to strip out of his clothes. The mirror would be a mute testimony to what he'd been through; as though the constant ache of his body wasn't enough, he'd have to actually see the bruises.

He pulled the shirt off and unzipped his jeans, stepping out of them awkwardly. Maybe it hadn't been the best idea to insist that he couldn't stay in bed; he was already feeling stiff and sore. The bruises were still fresh; he hadn't had time to heal yet.

As much as he wanted to look away from the mirror and not view his bruised body, his eyes were drawn to the reflection.

He winced as he looked into the mirror, turning his gaze away quickly -- but not quickly enough to keep from taking in the network of purple bruises across his stomach, over his chest, down his thighs. He didn't even want to turn and look at his backside.

Swallowing hard, he turned and swept back the shower curtain, his breath hissing through his teeth as he bent over to turn on the water. It would be a while before he could do things like that too quickly; his body still protested at any sudden movement.

He'd been told to take it easy, by the doctors, by his lover, by his co-workers. But that was so hard to do when he was used to an active life -- well, as active as his job let him be. Most people wouldn't call his job "active" by a long shot.

But it was frustrating, knowing that his rapists were out there somewhere, that they'd gotten away with what they'd done. And he couldn't do anything to try to find them or punish them -- the cops didn't seem to have a clue as to who they were and where they'd gone.

Oh, he knew they were looking, Michael sighed to himself as he stepped into the shower and pulled the curtain closed. Everyone who worked with him was incensed about what had happened, and they wanted to find those men and put them behind bars.

And John .... John tensed every time the subject was brought up. Michael could literally feel the anger seething in him whenever their thoughts turned to what had happened.

He lifted his face to the warm spray of the shower, swallowing hard to choke back the tears that rose into his throat. If it hadn't been for John .... he would probably be dead now. John had found him, gotten him out of there. John had saved his life.

He hadn't been able to show John his gratitude in anything but words. John had held him when he'd cried, comforted him, been there for him when he'd woken screaming from nightmares. John had been his anchor, his salvation, his safe haven since all of this had happened.

John had been so patient with him, so loving. Michael squeezed his eyes shut, his heart clenching his chest at the thought. He'd been the perfect lover, sweet and undemanding. And he'd let John down; he'd been unable to show his gratitude.

He wanted to make love to John, he really did, he told himself, a sob welling up in his throat. He loved John; he wanted the other man more than he could put into words. John was the most important person in his life.

One hand clenched into a fist, slamming against the tile of the shower. He wanted to make more bruises on his body, purple blossoming on the ivory of his skin until he was obscured under the purple discoloring, disappearing into it.

This wasn't fair to John. He shouldn't be saddled with someone who couldn't be everything that he needed, everything that he deserved.

He should be able to let John go, to let him find a lover who could give him what he deserved. It wasn't fair for him to be trapped in a relationship with a man who was in stasis, who couldn't go backwards or forwards in his life.

The tears were coming now; he was unable to hold them back. Michael leaned against the tiles, wishing that he could melt into them and disappear. He couldn't remember ever feeling so hopeless, at least not in his adult life.

He'd always been strong, capable, able to handle anything that life threw at him. But he'd never dreamed that he would have to deal with anything like this; and even with his lover by his side, he was unsure of how to move forward.

Somehow, he'd lost himself when he'd been lying bound and broken on the floor of that warehouse. And he had no idea how to pick himself up and start again. There were too many broken pieces that he didn't know how to fit back together.

The worst of it was that he felt he'd also lost John along the way. He could feel the other man reaching out to him, but he was too afraid to take the help and the love that John offered him. He didn't know how to bring himself back to John's arms.

Michael didn't know how long he stood there, sobbing until the water turned icy cold, making him shiver under the onslaught.

Finally, he bent to turn off the water, realizing that he was shaking uncontrollably from the cold. This wasn't going to do him any good, he told himself as he stepped out of the shower. He had to pull himself together.

He couldn't keep going like this. He had to find his way back to the person he'd been before -- and the first thing he had to do was fix his relationship with the man he loved. Of all the priorities in his life, John was the most important.

If he was forced to give up everything in his life, even the job he'd worked so hard at, John would be the one thing he would cling to, he thought to himself as he wrapped a towel around his waist. He swallowed hard, closing his eyes against the tears that were welling up again.

He couldn't let his relationship with John slip away. He'd been alone for so long before this man had come into his life, trying to convince himself that he was happy. He hadn't known what real happiness was until he'd fallen in love.

John had been the only person who'd seen through his loneliness -- or who'd made it go away. He owed all the happiness he'd had in the last weeks to his lover, and it was past time that the told John everything that was in his heart.

He would make their relationship work. He might be feeling lost and alone at the moment, but that couldn't last forever. He wouldn't let it.

John was his beacon of light in the darkness, and he was going to find that light and hold on to it with all his might. This time, he wouldn't let it fade away.

Michael didn't so much as glance in the mirror as he went out. It would be bad enough to have John see the purple bruises that marred his body, but he knew that he had to bare more than just his body to the other man -- and that seemed as good a place as any to start.

***