Title: Without A Trace
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: Tenth Doctor/Michael Cutter
Fandom: Doctor Who/Law & Order
Rating: R
Table: 100_tales
Prompt: 39, Hours
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.

***

The Doctor looked up at the clock on the wall of Michael's apartment, frowning as he did so. It was far past the usual time that Michael was home, and even if he was working late tonight, he would have been here by now. This was unusual indeed.

He went back over what Michael had said to him this morning before his lover had left for his office; there had been nothing odd, nothing to make the Doctor think that today wouldn't be like any other day for him, or that he would be late getting back.

Of course, there could have always been a case that came up to make him work extra hours, but the Doctor didn't think so. Michael would have called, left a message, found some way to let him know that he wouldn't be home at the usual time so he wouldn't worry.

He couldn't help but smile at his own thoughts. How many times had he wanted to have a life like this, something that was more settled? Well, now he seemed to have it.

This wasn't the life that he really wanted to lead; no, he wanted to be more honest with Michael about who and what he was. And he'd said that he was going to do it before now -- but he hadn't been able to bring himself to say those words.

Why? Had he been so afraid that it would send Michael running away in the opposite direction? He sighed, glancing up at the clock again. Yes, that was it. He was so afraid of losing Michael that he couldn't tell the man he loved the truth about who he was.

That clock couldn't possibly be right, he thought, frowning again. Michael had never stayed at the office this late, not since they'd known each other. Either there was some big case that had just broken -- or something more sinister had happened.

The Doctor could almost feel his hearts skip a few beats at the thought. Michael was an ADA -- he wasn't in the direct line of fire, like policemen who investigated crimes in this city. He'd only done so on the day they'd met because the killing had happened in his building.

It was ridiculous to think that something could have happened to him. He was safe in his office, working, and he'd forgotten the time. Or there had been some special meeting between Michael and his boss. There were any number of possibilities.

But he couldn't keep that small frisson of doubt away, the feeling that there was something going on that he needed to know about. That something had happened to Michael.

It had been hours since he'd last seen his lover. Anything could have happened in that time. But wouldn't he have known by now? If there had been some occurrence at the office, wouldn't Michael have managed to get him a message in some way?

He would if he'd been able to. The Doctor was sure of that.

Maybe he should take a stroll to Michael's office, just to look in and see if he was all right. Of course, he wouldn't actually be able to get into the office, but he could linger around the building, or in the hallways, and be there when Michael left.

Yes, he'd do that, the Time Lord decided, getting to his feet and heading for the door. It would be pleasant to walk home with Michael -- though on second thought, they would probably end up driving, but that didn't really matter.

The important thing was that he would be with Michael. He smiled as he opened the door, picking up the spare keys that Michael had given him and depositing them into the pocket of his coat as he stepped out into the hallway.

He pulled the door closed behind him, checking to make sure that it was locked. Moments later, he was stepping out of the elevator and moving through the lobby of Michael's apartment building, then he was outside and heading in the direction of the DA's office.

It was a warm night; he really hadn't needed his coat, but he always felt more comfortable when he was wearing it. Maybe he looked a bit strange to people passing by, but no one seemed to notice him. The Doctor shrugged that off; it wasn't unusual to be ignored in New York.

His footsteps slowed as he approached the building that housed the DA's office; there were police cars all around it, and they seemed to be on duty. What could have happened?

There were a lot of people milling around on the sidewalk outside the steps, and he couldn't help but approach the building to see if he could determine what had happened. Whatever it was, there were a lot of concerned-looking people moving in and out of the place.

"Excuse me." The Doctor tugged at the sleeve of one of the police officers who was standing near him, a young man who was wearing a woolen cap and looked as though he hadn't shaved in a few days. "Did something happen here?"

The young man looked him up and down, shrugging as he answered the Time Lord's question. "Yeah, it did. Looks like our Assistant DA is missing. Just disappeared without a trace. Nobody knows where he is. It's not like him to do something like that."

The Doctor could feel both of his hearts almost stopping; he was sure that the color was draining from his face, and he had to swallow hard before he could speak again. "How do you know that he hasn't just gone home without telling anyone he was leaving?"

"Because his car is in the parking lot with the driver's side door open -- and there's blood on the steering wheel. We think it's his." The young man's eyes narrowed, his attention caught. "Why are you so interested?"

The Doctor swallowed again, trying to make his voice sound natural. "I just saw the crowd, and I thought that something unusual must have happened. Sorry to have bothered you."

He moved away, hoping that the young man wouldn't remember him when the police got around to questioning people. His hearts felt as though they were going to burst out of his chest; he was gripped by an icy, numbing fear.

He'd probably left Michael's apartment just in time; no doubt the police would be going there and searching it. And his fingerprints were on the door, and on several surfaces in the place. There were even a few of his clothes there, hanging in the bedroom closet.

But there was no record of his fingerprints, as far as he knew. They wouldn't be able to trace him, because as far as 21st-century Earth was concerned, he didn't exist. Not unless they got in touch with Torchwood, and he didn't think that would happen.

Whether or not the police might suspect him wasn't important. What was important was that they find Michael, as quickly as possible. There was no telling what could have happened to him, and the Doctor didn't want to think of the possibilities.

He'd known ever since they'd first met that Michael had a job that could be dangerous. He dealt with criminals every day; there was always the chance that one of them could try to harm him in some way. It was something that his lover lived with on a daily basis.

The Doctor had tried to push that thought to the back of his mind; he'd fooled himself into thinking that Michael was perfectly safe.

Obviously, he'd been wrong about that. And he couldn't count on the police to find Michael -- he'd have to do it himself. He couldn't help the police -- they'd ask too many questions about what his relationship with Michael was, and he couldn't have that.

He'd have to get back to the Tardis as quickly as he could, and formulate a plan to find his lover. The Doctor turned and headed quickly away from the crowd, hoping that he wouldn't be stopped and that he could get his whirling brain to function properly.

What had happened to Michael? Was he ....? No. The Doctor pushed that thought away. Michael couldn't be dead. He would feel it if the man he loved was no longer a part of this world. He would just .... know.

Michael was alive. He was going to cling to that thought with everything he had -- and he was going to find his lover, on his own, without the help of the police. It might seem impossible -- but he'd had plenty of experience at dealing with that. And winning.

***