[There's so much just out of reach of him, like he can feel the Doctor trying to keep the worst of it back and what slips through, he can suddenly see why. If Chris felt like he was drowning in himself, The Doctor must be chained at the bottom of his own sea and had been for far far longer.
It feels like an echoing resonance of pain and anger and impotence and never enough, not in action, not in result, not in how far they needed to run-
But then there's hands squeezing his and Chris takes a shuddering breath in as his eyes sting. There's a resistance to the feeling, imbedded and strong, that keeps anything more than that stinging from taking hold.
'Listen' he commands, and Chris does. He listens as the cacophony turns it's tune and anger smoothes, not gone but changed into something that feels like it sits over the Doctor's shoulders like a mantle. Heavy, unmoving, but necessary. Something Chris leans into, like it's a blanket for warmth.]
Alright.
[He's not...as sure he deserved better, he's not sure he can make that call without knowing everything, but he knew the violation of his mind is enough to take even a fraction of that anger and light his own: hot, steady, but deeply fierce. No matter what else he might have invited in this, he didn't invite this. His mind was his own and no one had a right to put their fingers in it.
He's not alone...because the Doctor is right there and, looking at him, feeling him there in his mind: it's like having a stone wall to his back. Chris' next breath is more steady and he blinks away what tears had gathered to bun away the feeling of drowning. Compartmentalize. Focus.]
Breathe.
[It's something he told others panicking all the time. The first step was to remember to breathe.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2022-06-01 05:15 am (UTC)It feels like an echoing resonance of pain and anger and impotence and never enough, not in action, not in result, not in how far they needed to run-
But then there's hands squeezing his and Chris takes a shuddering breath in as his eyes sting. There's a resistance to the feeling, imbedded and strong, that keeps anything more than that stinging from taking hold.
'Listen' he commands, and Chris does. He listens as the cacophony turns it's tune and anger smoothes, not gone but changed into something that feels like it sits over the Doctor's shoulders like a mantle. Heavy, unmoving, but necessary. Something Chris leans into, like it's a blanket for warmth.]
Alright.
[He's not...as sure he deserved better, he's not sure he can make that call without knowing everything, but he knew the violation of his mind is enough to take even a fraction of that anger and light his own: hot, steady, but deeply fierce. No matter what else he might have invited in this, he didn't invite this. His mind was his own and no one had a right to put their fingers in it.
He's not alone...because the Doctor is right there and, looking at him, feeling him there in his mind: it's like having a stone wall to his back. Chris' next breath is more steady and he blinks away what tears had gathered to bun away the feeling of drowning. Compartmentalize. Focus.]
Breathe.
[It's something he told others panicking all the time. The first step was to remember to breathe.]