With A Hint of Bergamont

It was an old, beautiful routine, and now it was one that the Doctor bitterly dispised.

Amy set down a mug full to the brim with steaming, thickly scented and probably scalding hot Earl Grey tea, her eyes so innocent and confused as the man before her smiled tightly and refused the brew. 'Not today, Amelia,' he said in a neutral tone, 'Not now.'

Because he remembered the last time a fiesty, red-haired woman handed him a cup of tea and a comforting smile. It hurt too much.

"Hey."

Donna grasped his hand - his old hand, his tenth incarnation's hand - and gave it a small squeeze. The TARDIS hummed before him, her coordinates set to for them to flee the planet Midnight, and to never again walk across its tainted surface. The Doctor flashed his companion a weak smile (whether to convince her or himself he couldn't comprehend) and flicked the necessary switch on the control panel, almost laughing in relief as the sound of his wonderful ship taking off and leaving the place that spawned primal fear and guilt in his heart.

Usually, the Doctor would quip something about the next planet they were to visit, about how oh, Donna, you have to see Apoloxis Mark VII at sunrise! and what about Martians, they're completely different to me, more arms you know...but this time he was silent, brooding as his thoughts tangled with the unnamed beasts on the diamond terrain, paralysing agony still present in his mind as echos of screams lingered around his mind. Eventually, after a minute of painful quiet in the control room, Donna carefully navigated her way around the TARDIS and found the small kitchen, equipped with all the necessary apparatus for tea brewing. It was a tiny solace the Noble woman found in making the warm beverage, her routine so set out she barely did it with conscious thought. Motions that found her remembering her family, of fights and laughter, of nights where comfort was so desperately needed and mornings where she wanted to be lulled into a gorgeous sense of security.

The Doctor needed to feel protect after he had been violated so badly.

The man in question was still in the same spot Donna left him ten minutes ago, his back to her as he gazed without seeing at the Gallifreyan post-it note directly in front of him. Donna had never asked what it said, and even if she did, the Doctor would never say. Those notes were a part of him that were so personal even he became a stranger to them now. Just like how at that moment he was a stranger in his own mind, still shaking like a child inside from the weakness he felt.

"Doctor?" Donna called to the alien softly, and it was all he needed to snap out of his internal ramblings. He frowned and turned, his momentary confusion ebbing away as he noticed the blue cup full of pale liquid in Donna's hands. She walked slowly towards him, careful not to spill a drop, and with the simplest of gestures bursting with the largest collection of phrases, handed him the cup of tea with a comforting smile.

It said:

I will help you.

It wasn't your fault.

Please don't be sad.

It will get better.

I'm sorry.

Remember the good you've done.

And most importantly: I am here for you.

It broke the Doctor's heart when only a week later his saviour was gone and all that was left was an aching heart and an empty cup of tea.

Amy glanced at the Doctor, the cup still in her hands.

"Are you okay, Doctor?"

He smiled.

"I'm always okay."