Chapter Text
The TARDIS was much, much bigger on the inside. The Doctor led Peter through a hallway, stopping every so often to peek inside a room.
"... you don't know what you're looking for, do you?"
"Of course I do! I just don't know where it is."
"That's very reassuring, thank you."
"Oh, shut up."
Eventually the Doctor led him into what looked like an examination room. It didn't seem to be the room the Doctor had been looking for, but when he'd opened the door and looked inside he'd shrugged as if to say 'this will do.' It was really not reassuring.
"Right then," The Doctor said looking around. "You sit down and I'll—" He picked up what looked like a supermarket scanner. "I thought I'd lost this!" He twirled around and held it up towards Peter.
"What is it?"
"Well it's a... " The Doctor gestured "A... " He waved it around. "It doesn't matter." He said tossing the thing over his shoulder. "It's broken."
"Is this what you're like when you're nervous?" Peter was guessing, but he was usually good at that. The prospect of going into someone's mind couldn't be pleasant for the Doctor either.
"Who says I'm nervous?" The Doctor asked defensively. That confirmed it, then.
Peter raised an eyebrow at him, the Doctor sighed.
The last time the Doctor had done this... well, it was Craig. But he hadn't done it properly, he'd just given Craig information, he hadn't been looking for anything. The last time he'd done it properly he'd been wearing a different face and had been thrown off completely. He couldn't have that again.
"Right." The Doctor said. "You just— "
"Lie back and think of England?"
"You are the worst person I have ever brought here." The Doctor wagged a finger at him.
"You've abducted a lot of people?" Peter asked smiling.
"I told you I don't—" His finger-wagging got sterner. "You're not funny!"
"Sure I am!" Peter grinned. "And charming in a way you find slightly frustrating."
"Are not."
"Are too."
He was, though. Not that the Doctor would admit to it. And he was making the whole thing easier by being an idiot. The Doctor assumed that he was doing it on purpose.
"Moving on." He said sitting across from Peter. "Relax." He placed his hands on either side of Peter's head. "If there is anything you don't want me to see, just picture a door and close it."
"I'm not shy." Peter said lightly, but the Doctor could tell it was a front, Peter didn't like people looking around a hotel room he'd occupied for a couple of days, the idea of having someone inside his head had to be very stressful, although somehow not as stressful as seeing his father. The Doctor supposed he'd be finding out why.
Peter's memories were something of an organized mess. The Doctor could actually make sense of the system, which said more about Peter than about himself, really. He navigated Peter's more recent years easily. But when he reached earlier memories, things got muddier, harder to see.
There were a few years Peter had spent from hangover to hangover, apparently.
"Don't go poking in there." Peter said, which was a good thing. It meant he was following him instead of wandering off. "So. Do you do this often?"
"No. Now hush, you're distracting me."
There was a strong memory of grief, which was what had triggered the drinking binge. A phone call, Peter's mom had died. She'd... the memory was suddenly shielded, blocked from sight.
Neither of them said anything. The Doctor knew that Elizabeth had taken her own life. The more he saw, the more he could make sense of Peter's behavior and personality; he continued working his way backwards. As he made it into Peter's teens he ran into more and more blocks. Peter was shielding most of his family life.
He got glimpses of Walter Bishop; in some he was gesturing angrily, in others he was gentle, sitting by Peter's bed, telling him not to dream. It was quite a contrast.
He paused when he reached the point where the memories stopped.
"Peter, this is when it gets difficult."
"Just get it over with."
The Doctor got to work, he tried to be as gentle as possible but there were vague memories, and then there was a period of time completely locked away. He needed to undo the lock, and once it was undone the memories would come flooding back all at once.
"This won't be pleasant." He warned.
"I guessed that much." Peter sounded almost disinterested. The Doctor knew better, of course, but it was a very impressive act.
He unlocked the memories. Peter, still a kid, accepting he would die, trying to reassure his parents. A man wearing his father's face taking him away. The Doctor focused on that, there was some kind of device... a portal. But these were a child's memories, Peter hadn't been paying attention to the portal, he'd been paying attention to the man, to the hand grabbing his, to how cold it was. After they crossed over, the ice broke.
Peter gasped grabbing on to the Doctor's arm, the Doctor pulled back, breaking the mental connection. Peter was shaking and the Doctor decided that this was the perfect time to reach the hugging stage, he leaned over wrapping his arms around him.
"It's okay." He told him even though he wasn't sure Peter was listening. "You're okay."
It took a while, but eventually Peter calmed down enough to stand up. The Doctor led him to a bedroom, sat him down and waited.
Peter was in a daze, he didn't realize he was sitting down until his hand brushed against the bed. He took a deep breath and then another. There was a comforting weight on his shoulder... a hand. The Doctor's hand. And the Doctor was leaning over him.
He focused on his breathing. In, out, in, out. It helped him calm down.
"Let's never do that again." He said after what seemed like hours. The Doctor let out a startled chuckle.
"Fair enough." He said. "Never again."
"I'm okay." Peter looked down at his hands, he was still shaking. He opened and closed them a couple of times, reminding himself that he really was okay. He could deal with things one at a time. Breathing, check. Control over his limbs, check. Convincing the alien that he was fine immediately after reliving the most traumatizing experience of his life... in progress.
"Tea!" The Doctor announced suddenly, as if it were some sort of revelation. He pushed Peter down gently. "You lie down, I'll bring tea, then we can talk." Just before he opened the door Peter spoke again.
"Fifty-first century painkillers."
"... what?"
"Instead of aspirin you promised fifty-first century painkillers."
"Right! Yes!" The Doctor sounded pleasantly surprised. Peter was pleased too, he had sounded almost like himself. At this rate he'd be done with that mental check-list in no time.
---
The painkillers didn't only get rid of his headache immediately, but they also cleared his head and made him feel more awake.
"So." Peter asked. "Any chance I can take one of those to mass produce?"
"Don't even think about it." The Doctor had pulled up a chair and was sitting by the bed. It didn't seem right to Peter to have the Doctor sit by his bedside as if he were sick, but he didn't want to tell him that, he figured the least he argued the faster the Doctor would stop fussing.
"I'm fine now, thank you." He said. The Doctor stared at him intently which was fine for a bit, but when he kept it up past the ten second mark Peter got uncomfortable. "Would you stop that?" He asked in what he hoped was a neutral tone.
"You're not fine." The Doctor sighed, finally breaking the stare. "How could you be? You just found out you've been living in the wrong universe. Everything you knew is false." The Doctor leaned closer, and for a second Peter thought that he'd get kissed, which would have been awkward and more than a little disturbing. Luckily, the Doctor only studied him for a second before leaning back on his chair. "You're not fine," He repeated. "But you put up a very good act."
Peter swallowed past the knot on his throat. He wondered what the Doctor was expecting from him. Anger? Tears?
"You were there." He said quietly. "Why didn't you do something then?"
"Do something when?"
Peter rubbed the bridge of his nose, his headache seemed to want to come back despite the magic painkillers.
"I was a kid and I told you... you played with me." He was squeezing his tea cup too tightly, the Doctor took it from him and set it on the bedside table.
"I met you for the first time yesterday." He said gently. "Then I went back to check what had happened. I thought maybe I could sort it without getting you involved."
"When you... " Peter was trying to make sense of it. "You disappeared. You went back and met me."
"That's right! Very good!" The Doctor patted Peter's shoulder. "I shouldn't have, it was irresponsible. Can't cross my own time-line like that." He paused, then added. "I wanted to question your father—"
"He's not my father." Peter cut in.
"Right. Okay. Anyway, I wanted to visit him, but the TARDIS brought me back to you."
"... the TARDIS brought you back? I thought it was your ship."
"She is! She's also stubborn sometimes." He paused. "And clever." Another pause, then a grin. "And sexy."
A quiet mechanical whirr came from the walls. Peter's headache was definitely coming back.
"It's sentient." He said just to confirm it.
The Doctor beamed at him.
---