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leucoratia · 2 years

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Through time and space

Pairing: Loki & The Tenth Doctor (platonic)

Summary: After letting go of the Bifrost, Loki’s adrift in space. Alone, hurt and broken, he’s rescued by quite a peculiar traveller who lost his way...

A/N: I also posted this fic on AO3 for those who prefer the layout!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/35998315

A/N: Golly. Well this monstruosity is finally done! @belligerentmistletoe this is for you, following the prompt “Loki and the Tenth Doctor from Dr Who”. It’s probably gonna be a two parter, but I was out of time for that one considering that it’s the holidays (I had to write the entire thing on google keep from my phone can you BELIEVE). Huge kudos to @worstloki and @call-me-half for proofreading this!!

I really wanna do a part two, kind of in Stellophia’s style in their AO3 fanfic “Through the Shards of a Broken Mirror” (go read it’s so goooooooodddddd), but ey writing this sucked the soul out of me because I procrastinated until the last minute (Well if it ain’t the consequences of my own actions). Later probably!!

Have a good read and merry late christmas!

Warning: angst, graphic description of injury, self-hate

Word count: 4 159 words

« No, Loki »

The words rang in the prince’s ears, as the realization dawned upon him. Yet again, he had failed. No matter the amount of resolve, of pain, of tears and flesh and blood he poured in his acts, it would all amount to nothing in the end. What a fool he was! A fool indeed, for holding onto the scraps and desperately trying over and over and over again to outdo the golden son, to receive even a shred of Odin’s love! To be anything else but a spare part, to try to escape the fate his monstrous genes had drawn for him the moment he first saw this world!

He couldn’t even call Odin 'Father' after this. He had tried, as an ultimate cry for help, but as always, there was nothing to be done. Nothing he could do was enough. He wasn’t enough, was he? He never was but a stolen relic, carefully hidden away from anyone, even himself, for who would dare to peel off his layers would see him as he truly was; a monstrous, foul, evil thing.

Vision blurred by tears, the jotün prince frantically searched the king’s face for something, anything that would dispel his thoughts, that would show him that he was wrong and that he was loved and cared for and that everything that happened these past few days was just a nightmare and that Mother Frigga would wake him up with a kiss on the forehead and cradle him and tell him it was okay and-

Silence.

Odin’s face was hardened as he watched his son his prize, you mean? hang on for dear life on Gungir. His disapproving gaze pierced the fallen prince’s heart deeper than any spear could.

This was it. He didn’t even have to think, for what to do next was clear as day. He could never escape the fates of his monstrous origin. Having failed to kill the beasts that plagued the realms and himself, the only escape left was to murder himself. He owned everyone this at least. This was his only mean of absolution.

Loki looked up to the stars, faced the king one last time, lips twitching into a not-so-smile.

And he let go.

Thor’s blood-curling scream rang through all space to hear as his brother looked down and confronted the wormhole. It was not long until not even Huggin and Muninn could notice a single flash of green in the deep, dark space. And in Asgard’s eyes, Loki died.

━━ ˖°˖ ☾☆☽ ˖°˖ ━━━━━━━━━ ˖°˖ ☾☆☽ ˖°˖ ━━

It was silent. Who would have thought that space would be voiceless? Loki always thought space made a sound, had a scent even! Every time he snuck away in the library to hide from the court, from Father Odin, from Thor, he would find himself nose-deep into scientific papers dissecting space, stars, black holes and celestial bodies. He read about the birth and death of stars, about super and hypernovas, about gamma-ray bursts; and he always thought space made a sound. Mother The queen would tell him that space sounded faintly like the forges of Niđavellir, and that sometimes, if you listened very carefully, you could hear the deep growls of black holes.

But even though the fallen prince put every fibre of his being into listening, the only sound that came to him was the subtle thrumming of his heart. As he entered the wormhole, he closed his eyes and let himself fall.

And fall

He fell until the silence was so loud he could hear his own blood coursing through his veins.

He fell until he could no longer scream and hate and cry and move.

He fell until his muscles grew thin.

He fell until he forgot how to speak.

He fell until he forgot himself.

He fell until he forgot how to think.

Adrift in the never-ending space, there was no more Loki Odinson, or Laufeyson, or Loki at all. There was just a boy. And he was hanging on by a thread.

━━ ˖°˖ ☾☆☽ ˖°˖ ━━━━━━━━━ ˖°˖ ☾☆☽ ˖°˖ ━━

“Just a moment! I’ll be back in a minute, tops!” was what the Doctor had told Rose as he pushed her out of the Tardis.

“You better, or I’ll come and get you myself!” she had answered in a disapproving yet fond tone.

Arms crossed over her chest, she had watched the blue box disappear, followed by its signature humming.

And so he was adrift in space, alone once again. It should have really taken a minute, all things considered. Just had to make a few adjustments to the old girl, take her out for a spin; maybe mingle with a few commands, who knows. The man out of time liked to have his monthly alone time with her. He adjusted his tie with a slight smile, laid eyes on the machinery and began working his magic.

But just as he pushed the dimensional shifter and prepared himself for the ever so familiar shake, he was met with a strong jerk of the machine.

Then silence.

“What?? What was that for??”

Wide-eyed, he bent over the board to look at the engine’s heart. Its blue core seemed dim, and smoke poured out of its joints and cracks. After fumbling for a few seconds with his coat in search of his glasses, The Doctor clumsily placed them on his face and dove nose-deep in the core, pushing buttons and yanking levers here and there. Fumes were fogging up his glasses, his hands were covered in grease, and he didn’t even know where to start.

“My my, what’s going on with you? C’mon old girl, tell me what I’m doing wrong”

The control panel vibrated faintly, as if it was trying to speak to its pilot. And yet, even though no words were spoken, after hundreds of years together, of course he’d get it….he would, wouldn't he?

He definitely would.

Eyes flashing in understanding, The Doctor pulled his head out of the machine to duck down under the core and reconnect some wires. With the utmost focus, he melted two of them together, hid some more in the reactor's depths, pressed even more buttons, got grease and unidentifiable fluids all over his face and hands in the process; and finally reached for the control panel to pull the dimensional shifter again.

Everything was normal. The Tardis' familiar rattle and whooshing was like music to his ears.

"See? I knew that I'd figure it out! Now, Allons-y!!"

He laid back against a rail and took a deep breath in, relishing in a job well done. Off to space! They were going to 55 Cancri e, a planet he wanted to bring Rose to. He talked about it once, briefly. Quite a small planet, its main particularity was that it was entirely made of diamond. Although the traveler didn't personally find any wonder in this feat, for diamond gets quite old after a few thousand years (humans, such strange yet fascinating creatures), Rose had shown such marvel in the discovery that he just had to see that smile again.

Nothing too crazy this time, they'll never put feet on it anyways since the surface was about 2,100 degrees Celsius. This was just a safety trip, to make sure that nothing dangerous was wandering around the planet.

He really should have been back in a minute.

But The Doctor was wrong. This time, he didn't quite get it.

Just as he was about to put his hands back on the control panel, he fell right next to the Tardis door and smashed into the wall, knocking his glasses off his nose. It took him a second to register the fact that his ship had turned upside down, and another second to fall face-first into the opposite wall as the box started spinning like crazy, growing and shrinking over and over and knocking the Time Lord around like a dollar store ragdoll. The only sounds he could articulate were shrieks and muffled groans of pain as he was mercilessly thrown around by the spinning ship.

The Tardis had gone positively mad. Lights were turning on and off, sirens were blaring, steam was coming out of every possible tube and he could swear for a second that he could hear water coming out of the pool and drowning the corridors.

"Ooh this is bad. Bad bad bad-" He muttered before being interrupted by a rail promptly shoved in his stomach as he fell miserably on it.

In his daze, he managed to grab it and hang on to it for dear life, as the best he could do was wait it out. He really, really started regretting going for this solo trip after all.

━━ ˖°˖ ☾☆☽ ˖°˖ ━━━━━━━━━ ˖°˖ ☾☆☽ ˖°˖ ━━

The worst had passed now, and the Tardis felt steadier by the second. Finally, The Doctor fell back on his feet in a loud "OOF!", and tumbled back to the control panel, which was still oozing smoke and beeping loud enough to pierce more than a pair of eardrums.

"God...now THAT was NOT nice. What was that for?? I hope you have a good explanation for that one because YOU look like you just got shot by a Dalek, and I suffered the fallout!" He grumbled accusingly, pointing an angry finger at the console while patting his bruised face with his free hand.

Noticing he had, once again unsurprisingly, lost his glasses in the madness (not that he particularly needed them anyway, but he had always thought that they made him look smarter), he squinted his eyes at a screen which was displaying unusual readings.

"What?? What are those about now??" He said, tapping at the screen lightly hoping to fix whatever seemed to be wrong with it. But they didn't budge.

"Photon quantity is normal, gravity is abnormally low for the area I'm supposed to be in, celestial bodies in the area...zero?? Whad'ya mean zero, that can't be right." His eyes widened in surprise and searched the screen for anything that would erase his suspicions. But the numbers stared at The Doctor, bright and bold. He was completely alone in this part of space. The Tardis didn't even detect the smallest asteroid, not even the most microscopic speck of space dust.

Incredulous, he made his way to his machine's door in hopes of being wrong. Picking up his (broken) glasses along the way, he threw the door open and faced...nothing.

Where the diamond planet supposedly stood, there was nothing. As the Tardis read, he couldn't even see a single asteroid.

"Where in the world did you bring me to?" He wondered to himself.

The man out of time stared out into the emptiness for a few more minutes, out of disbelief. Maybe he was hoping to see something, who knows, to indicate where he was, for the Tardis apparently wasn't in the mood to give him that kind of information.

Hands resting in his pockets, with blood smudged on his face and clothes all roughed up, he sure was a sight to see. Eyes fixated in the deep, the Doctor was profoundly focused.

He had travelled, for sure, but he grew wearier and wearier by the second. Something was...off. Even though most of the readings were correct, he could sense that everything felt out of the ordinary, though he couldn't quite pin it down. It felt like coming back inside your home and seeing that everything had been slightly moved, just enough to be noticeable to the trained eye but looking otherwise completely standard.

Staring down the darkness a final time, he was about to turn away when the Tardis' voice blared in his mind, static and wrong.

"Unknown object approaching at approximatively two hundred thousand kilometers per hour.

-What??", he shouted in surprise "How big is it? How close?

-Four hundred kilometers. It will pass by in approximatively nine...eight....seven..."

Wide eyed, he searched the emptiness for the asteroid.

At seven seconds, he began to notice a green shape. Maybe a rare kind of space stone?

At six seconds, he noticed flashes of gold and began to be able to trace out its shape.

At five seconds, he saw for sure four lanky limbs, a head and a torso...the asteroid was human-shaped?

At four seconds, he concluded the green was a cape and the gold an armor.

At three seconds, he was certain that the "asteroid" was indeed a human.

At two point five seconds, in his panic, he urged the Tardis to opens the doors wide, move the control room out of the way and bring forward the deepest pool they had.

At one point eight seconds, the Doctor jerked out of the way and ducked behind the open doors.

At zero seconds, the falling human tore right through the Tardis and crashed in an ear-deafening sound into the water.

"What the hell..." cried out the traveler as he tumbled back up, closed his ship's doors and started running at his fastest towards the pool.

He ran as fast as his feet and the moving corridors could carry him. Although the water was made to ease the fall as much as possible, he had very high doubts about the person's survival. At such inhumane speeds, getting out alive of such a fall would simply be a miracle. And he had learned not to believe in miracles anymore.

As the man finally arrived at the pool, he heard nothing but the ripples of waves. He didn't see the one he just rescued gasping for air, nor floating on top as a regular corpse would, no.Bending down, he noticed the castaway laying in the deep, surrounded by the pool floor's rubble that he had destroyed in his fall.

"No, no, no no no no don't do this to me buddy. Come on, come on!!" He shouted, staring right into the water.

Hope drained out of the Doctor's face seeing the scene before him. The man's already incredibly thin body horribly twisted, bones poking out of his arms and legs, face deeply cut and dark red tinting the water all around.

The traveler tightened his hands on the pool's rim until his knuckles grew white and gritted his teeth together until it hurt. He was so close. So, so close. His guts twisted and he felt sick to his stomach. He was such an idiot. Water? Seriously? Even a preschooler knows that at such insane speeds water has the density of concrete, obsidian even! It was his fault as always. Maybe if he had thought of something better, something else to ease the fall, the man would have survived. Maybe if he made the Tardis create a room full of feathers! Or pillows! Or silk! Or moss! Or-

"No. That can't be right. Don't.", he murmured softly. "Don't do that. Don't give me hope."

But he was right. This time, he could swear on Gallifrey, even on Rose, that he saw bubbles coming out of the dead man's mouth. Little one yes, but they kept coming out at a pace only breathing could create. This could only mean one thing.

While entering the Tardis, the man had breathed, and he had lived. His castaway was alive.

The Doctor didn't even have to think twice. With no consideration towards his coat, his shoes or even his dear sonic screwdriver, he dove head first into the water and swam towards the man. As he tore through the water, he utilized the Tardis' telepathic abilities to ask his ship to prepare a med bay. He had no time to bring the terribly wounded man to a proper hospital. This was now or never. The medical skills he had obtained throughout the centuries would have to be enough. He just wouldn't be able to forgive himself if he failed the man once again.

He swam like a madman, wanting to spare every second; and after what seemed to be forever, he reached the bottom. The Doctor could see the man more clearly now. It shocked him to see how young he looked. He must be what? Twenty? Twenty three at best. And even badly bruised, emaciated and on the brink of death, he looked princely. He probably was royalty now that he thought about it, no commoner would be able to afford such obscene amounts of gold, much less golden armor.

"Who cares. Doctor, Doctor, act now, think later." He thought to himself as he scooped the castaway's limp body in his arms.

He rested his feet on the bottom and jumped, propelling himself high enough into the water to only have a few meters to swim through. Indeed, he thought, one of the perks of belonging to a millennial and extremely advanced extraterrestrial species were the many abilities that set them apart from the common spaceman. Or space woman. Or space person-

Yes. Yes. Priorities. Save the boy-king. Talk later.

After a few more seconds of struggle, he finally reached the top ad gasped for air as he ruptured the water. As he difficultly walked up the stairs and extracted both of them from the water, he tried his best to keep the man's head up and held him as gently as he could.

"Man, you're heavy", he said, struggling, "wonder where you're hiding all that weight!" The strain in The Doctor's voice was palpable as he put all of his will into placing one foot before the other.

Around them, the Tardis was moving to accommodate a quicker route. The metal walls were rolling, as they were suddenly illuminated by soft indigo lights, and he could feel the floor pulsing under his feet. As disorienting as it could be, he kept going steadily. One left, a right, another right, another left, and straight towards the med bay...at least he thought so. Poking his head though the door and almost falling down with his new guest, he was relieved to find a make-shift bed in the center of the room. As he crossed the final meters keeping them from the bed, he shot a quick glance at the man in his arms. He seemed to be breathing, although faintly, his face, painted in crimson, was paler than a dead man's, his hair was matted by blood, his entire body drenched in ice-cold water, and The Doctor would have preferred not to look at his terribly broken limbs. Glancing at the splintered bones poking out of his arms and legs, tendons and muscle still attached to them, he felt like he was about to retch.

Finally, he laid him down onto the bed.

"Gimme a quick scan! Species, data, everything you can!", the man out of time ordered his ship while kicking off his now bloodied and wet cloak, and picking up his sonic screwdriver. He pointed the tool at the sleeping man and scanned him. Tossing the screwdriver aside, he began freeing him from his (huge, broken and so, so heavy, good lord) armor. Every single part came out with great struggle, as he tried his best to be delicate and not harm the rescued even more.

Boots, chest plate, arm covers, overshirt...

"What is this, a French pastry??"

This human had such an extravagant taste in fashion. As the man finally laid in only his undershirt and pants, the Doctor was interrupted by a screen's strident beeping. Ah, yes. The scan. He almost fell down, tripping on his own shoes, as he rushed to the screen, grabbing it with both hands and nearly pressing his face onto it.

As he read, his eyes gradually widened in incomprehension and shock.

"Height, one meter and ninety-one centimeters...weight, two hundred and fourteen kilograms....heartbeats per minute, twenty-three...species unknown? Well that's gotta be a problem.", he muttered, annoyed. From a quick glance at the scan, he could vaguely guess that the man wasn't human. Maybe a related species? Well, it would have to make do.

Walking back towards his bloodied guest, he rolled up his sleeves, grabbed his sonic and put on a pair of latex gloves. Time to get to work.

━━ ˖°˖ ☾☆☽ ˖°˖ ━━━━━━━━━ ˖°˖ ☾☆☽ ˖°˖ ━━

Loki was falling. Or was he? He must have been. The last thing he remembered was his free fall in the depths of space. He remembered thinking that in his misery, he was lucky that the last thing his living eyes would see would be space's dark beauty. He must be in Helheim now. He felt himself crack a smile. He hoped his daughter would be happy to see him, for they had been apart since Odin had made her queen of the dead. Even now, after hundreds of years, he still missed her, and all of her brothers and sisters, dearly. Odin had seen fit to cast out his monstruous, hideous children; for anything born of monsters such as Loki and his lovers could only bring ruin to the realm. He remembered the pure agony that followed their loss, and how he was broken in pieces smaller than a speck of dust when Tyr had bound Fenrir.

Truly, it did seem that Odin greatly relished in seeing him hurt.

A thought suddenly struck him. He didn't hear Gjöll's water flowing, nor the whisk of dead tree branches against the realms rocks, nor even the footsteps of the dead. Instead, he heard more of a...soft humming? He also came to realize that he felt his own weight again, felt his bones, his flesh, and a new, blinding pain that radiated from his entire body. He felt light and he felt heavy at the same time. Everything was tight. His body felt caged in something that wrapped around him almost completely

His fingers felt something soft, and his face was warmed by some sort of light.

Maybe he wasn't dead after all. Pity, he thought. Even that he had failed. Loki, King of Nothing and Prince of Monsters, was so incompetent he had failed to meet his own demise. He felt like laughing. Such a pathetic thing but to keep living. What had he, waiting for him? Power? Not a chance. Family? Preposterous. A place to belong? He lost it the second he discovered his true heritage. Truly, the Not-Prince was condemned to rot while battling himself forever.

He chuckled at the thought. Maybe he was indeed King of something, the King of Misery. King of Pitiful things.

As soon as the sound escaped his lips, he heard something (or is it someone?) fall, yelp I pain (definitely someone then), tumble back up while cursing under their breath, and rush to his side.

"Hey, hey, hey buddy, are you awake? Can you hear me? You made a pretty bad fall, caught you just in time!”

He opened his eyes.

There was someone next to him. He was tall, with short and unruly brown hair, sideburns distasteful truly, and a drenched and bloodied light blue shirt rolled up at the sleeves. Loki disregarded the man questioning him who kept blabbering about falling and rescue and bruises, and looked around. He didn't recognize his surroundings. He was laying in a makeshift bed in what seemed to be a med bay, a highly unusual one, that is. The walls were what seemed to be metal panes drilled in many medium sized holes, black and red cable was running all around the walls, ceiling and floor, and a soft yellow light was passing through the walls.

"Hey, hey, come on! Can you hear me? Are you paying attention?", said the man, tapping his shoulder.

Loki jerked to the side, immediately regretting it for it has caused immense pain to course through him. He hissed in pain, causing the odd man to profusely apologize.

"Sorry, sorry, so sorry, didn't mean to hurt you. Can you hear me?

-Yes, I can hear you.", Loki snapped, although the words came out sloppier and weaker than he wanted them to be. His voice felt like gravel in his throat, and he broke into a fit of cough which only accentuated his general pain.

"I'm the Doctor. I sorta...found you while traveling. Who are you?"

It took him a moment to respond. Who was he? Prince of Asgard? Rightful King of Jotunheim? King of Nothing and Prince of Deceit? He settled on one thing

"I am Loki.

-Well Loki, it looks like you're gonna spend some more time with me".

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