Fic: Memories of a Time Lord (2/5)
Aug. 5th, 2008 09:39 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
measiAuthor's Note: Obligatory I don't own Doctor Who, the BBC does disclaimers apply. The rest of the headers/prompts/etc. can be found on part one.
[chapter one] [chapter two] [chapter three] [chapter four] [chapter five]
CHAPTER TWO
Time roped around itself angrily, its normal golden color glaring red in his mind. He could see all of it – every possibility, every decision, and every outcome. Normally, he could see the traces of each of these alternatives, able to grasp one at a time to follow it out of curiosity. The outcomes of timelines could and often were disturbing, but thanks to his Time Lord training, the Doctor had always been able to keep himself objective, acknowledging and knowing the timeline for what it was – a possibility.
Now, the timelines all battered him, their tendrils winding around his thoughts like a choking vine, threatening to pull him into several possibilities at once. He could not tell what is real and what is illusion, what may be and what cannot. Worst of all, he was dragged into each one, the outcomes burning him, scarring his mind. Overwhelmed, he screamed, dropping to the floor as he held his head in agony.
The timelines laughed at him, taunting him for being powerless as they shoved him forward, taking corporeal form as old men that had worked with his father when he was just a child. He stares ahead, his eyes wide with fright as he feels his legs move of their own accord. In front of him stands a free-standing portal, ominous in its dominance of the rocky landscape.
No, please no, he begs. The men push him forward again, instructing him to stand in front of the portal, to look deep and tell them what he sees. He tries to stop, knowing that he’s been here before, when he was just a child, and to stare at it again will drive him mad. But his legs refuse to stop, moving him onto the stone he stood upon nearly nine hundred years in his past, his eyes unable to look away from the swirling blue blackness.
And from somewhere within, he hears a steady rhythm, drumming a pattern of four beats over and over, into eternity.
~ ~ ~
“Take me to him now,” Rose demanded. “I don’t care if he’s in quarantine. If he is ill, I need to get him back to his ship and get him to the infirmary.”
“We will treat him here,” the nurse sniffed.
Rose stared at the woman. “With what? You’ve found a cure in the last two days?”
The Metaxian paused, pursing her lips. “No. But we will treat him the best we can. I assure you…”
“You have nothing to help him, do you?” Rose interrupted. “What are you doing for him?”
“He is locked up for his own protection,” the nurse replied as she returned behind the desk. She slammed a file on top of the growing pile to her right. “And for ours.”
“Then call Commander Somilo…” Rose countered. “He’s the one that told me the Doctor was here.”
The nurse’s eyebrow rose. “Admiral Somilo is contacting you? An off-worlder with no training? You’re not worth his time,” she said dismissively.
Rose shrugged. “No, perhaps I’m not. But the Doctor is, and he traveled here to assist with this Burning you lot have. Now call him!”
“No need, Miss Tyler,” a booming male voice said from behind her.
Rose turned to its source, recognizing the hulking body as the commanding officer who’d been talking with the Doctor on their first day here. “Oh thank God. Sir, please. She won’t let me see him.”
“Nurse Miria, I presume?” Somilo asked.
The nurse nodded.
“By order of high command, you will accompany Miss Tyler to the Doctor’s bedside. You will then prepare him for transport. He will be leaving the hospital and returning to Miss Tyler’s care in his own ship.”
“But Sir!”
“The Doctor requires the care that can only be provided within his own ship’s infirmary,” Somilo stated firmly. “You will go now, please. He must be moved to appropriate care.”
Miria glowered at Somilo, clearly perturbed at being ordered around in her own hospital, but she nodded curtly. “Miss Tyler, if you please,” she said, gesturing to Rose toward a glass door to her right.
Before moving to follow, Rose felt Somilo’s hand catch her arm.
“He will be well, Rose Tyler. I promise you. Just get him to his TARDIS. All will be well,” he said.
Rose wondered if his promises were made out of honesty or an attempt to hide denial of the truth. She squeezed Somilo’s hand in appreciation regardless, and followed Nurse Miria to the door, where she watched the woman tap a long password string into the number lock on the door. Once complete, the door’s pressure seal released. They entered quickly, closing the door firmly behind them. It sealed with a hiss. They then waited for a second airlock door to release, allowing them access to the hospital wing.
When the doors opened, Rose frowned. “Don’t we need protective suits or something?” she asked, noticing the lack of garments she normally associated with a quarantined location. All of the shows on TV – they all had those spacesuits, didn’t they? Here? Nothing. She saw the medical staff walking the corridors in the basic clean-lined jumpsuits that reminded her vaguely of hospital scrubs back home. Everything was simple, streamlined, and utilitarian, without decoration or any impractical comforts.
“You were disinfected in the airlock, Rose Tyler,” the nurse said sharply, looking at her as if she were daft. Miria then turned and set off quickly down the corridor, not caring whether Rose or Somilo were keeping pace.
Thankfully, Rose was able to keep up. She followed the nurse and the commander around a corner to the right, down another painfully harsh white corridor to another double door airlock, where they again went through without need of contamination suits – Rose hoped that they weren’t going into higher level quarantine wing, but thought it better not to ask. Then, finally, they arrived in another large ward. The TARDIS translation circuit labeled it the ICU.
Rose stayed near the entrance as Somilo and Miria discussed the situation with the nurse in residence. As the conversation became more heated, she began to walk through the ward nervously. She walked by the beds of Metaxian patients, all wired on their foreheads to monitor their brain activity. The Doctor had said that this Burning was a psychic infection. Looking at the computer screens, Rose saw violent spikes of activity being recorded. The patients were visibly in pain, their faces contorting as if in the grip of nightmares. She realized that that probably was the truth.
She felt a hand grasp her shoulder. “Miss Tyler, please come with me.” Somilo’s expression was grim as he lead her further into the ward, past all of the beds open to the nurse’s station. At the end of the ward were small doors with narrow, slatted windows. The commander opened one, the thick metal door opening with an ominous clang that echoed through the ward.
As the door opened, a figure moved from the floor in the shadows on the opposite end of the room. Bare feet slapped clumsily against the floor, dragging sluggishly as the person approached the corridor light. Thin, pale bare legs, followed by a tall, thin body dressed only in a hospital gown came into the light. As his face emerged, the Doctor winced in the brightness, bringing his hand up to his forehead. He stared at Rose, confused, as if he couldn’t recall who she was. He grasped her shoulders, and slowly spoke.
And Rose could not understand a word.
The Doctor repeated the phrase, gripping her skin more tightly. And then again, when he saw her returned look of confusion. But the TARDIS translation circuit was not working.
“Doctor? It’s Rose,” she said, hoping that if he couldn’t speak English that at least possibly he could still understand her. And then the thought crossed her mind – what if the Doctor didn’t actually know English at all. Maybe this entire time she’d been speaking to him through the translator. “You remember me, yeah?” she asked, forcing her voice to remain as calm and smooth as possible.
The blank stare he gave her was devastating. He appeared disoriented, swaying unsteadily on his feet. He muttered more unintelligible phrases quietly, looking around bewildered at the hospital surroundings. Then suddenly, he began to shout, waving his arms around wildly.
“Miss Tyler, we should get him back to the TARDIS,” Somilo whispered.
The Doctor’s movement stopped quickly as he heard the word. “TARDIS,” he repeated, his eyes growing wide with recognition. He pointed to himself, then toward the exit door. “TARDIS!”
“Well, at least he remembers the name of his ship,” Rose muttered. “We should probably find something better for him to wear, though. Bit cold out there. And do they have his suit?” The question she asked to Miria, who approached them with an opaque bag bulging with what appeared to be clothing.
“There are warmer clothes for him in here,” Miria replied, still scowling as she handed Rose the bag. “His original clothing is in the bottom, along with all of his personal effects.” She then turned to Somilo, handing him a clipboard-style file pad. “If you have no more need of me, I need to return to my patients.”
Somilo began to say something, and then paused, clearly thinking better of it. He thanked her curtly, giving Rose a wan smile as the nurse retreated briskly. “I have his medical records here. We’ll look at them once we get him back to the TARDIS.”
“TARDIS!” The Doctor’s voice was insistent now.
Rose nodded at him, shushing gently. She opened the bag of clothes, finding a thick pair of trousers in a soft, cotton-like material and a knitted pullover, both of which she showed to the Doctor. He stared at them for a moment, then awkwardly pulled the hospital gown over his head and waited for her. Finding herself again needing to control her reaction to his surprising lack of modesty, she handed him the pullover, which he managed to put on with only a little difficulty, and then held trousers open so he could step into them, keeping a hand on her shoulder for balance. She dug deeper into the bag, retrieving his trainers. For now, he could go without the socks – easier to take off once they got back to the ship, she decided. Once he was dressed, Rose took the used gown to the nurses’ station, thanked them quietly for taking care of him, and returned to the Doctor’s side.
“TARDIS?” she asked, nudging him forward.
And finally, he smiled.
- End Chapter Two -
[to chapter three]
[chapter one] [chapter two] [chapter three] [chapter four] [chapter five]
CHAPTER TWO
Time roped around itself angrily, its normal golden color glaring red in his mind. He could see all of it – every possibility, every decision, and every outcome. Normally, he could see the traces of each of these alternatives, able to grasp one at a time to follow it out of curiosity. The outcomes of timelines could and often were disturbing, but thanks to his Time Lord training, the Doctor had always been able to keep himself objective, acknowledging and knowing the timeline for what it was – a possibility.
Now, the timelines all battered him, their tendrils winding around his thoughts like a choking vine, threatening to pull him into several possibilities at once. He could not tell what is real and what is illusion, what may be and what cannot. Worst of all, he was dragged into each one, the outcomes burning him, scarring his mind. Overwhelmed, he screamed, dropping to the floor as he held his head in agony.
The timelines laughed at him, taunting him for being powerless as they shoved him forward, taking corporeal form as old men that had worked with his father when he was just a child. He stares ahead, his eyes wide with fright as he feels his legs move of their own accord. In front of him stands a free-standing portal, ominous in its dominance of the rocky landscape.
No, please no, he begs. The men push him forward again, instructing him to stand in front of the portal, to look deep and tell them what he sees. He tries to stop, knowing that he’s been here before, when he was just a child, and to stare at it again will drive him mad. But his legs refuse to stop, moving him onto the stone he stood upon nearly nine hundred years in his past, his eyes unable to look away from the swirling blue blackness.
And from somewhere within, he hears a steady rhythm, drumming a pattern of four beats over and over, into eternity.
~ ~ ~
“Take me to him now,” Rose demanded. “I don’t care if he’s in quarantine. If he is ill, I need to get him back to his ship and get him to the infirmary.”
“We will treat him here,” the nurse sniffed.
Rose stared at the woman. “With what? You’ve found a cure in the last two days?”
The Metaxian paused, pursing her lips. “No. But we will treat him the best we can. I assure you…”
“You have nothing to help him, do you?” Rose interrupted. “What are you doing for him?”
“He is locked up for his own protection,” the nurse replied as she returned behind the desk. She slammed a file on top of the growing pile to her right. “And for ours.”
“Then call Commander Somilo…” Rose countered. “He’s the one that told me the Doctor was here.”
The nurse’s eyebrow rose. “Admiral Somilo is contacting you? An off-worlder with no training? You’re not worth his time,” she said dismissively.
Rose shrugged. “No, perhaps I’m not. But the Doctor is, and he traveled here to assist with this Burning you lot have. Now call him!”
“No need, Miss Tyler,” a booming male voice said from behind her.
Rose turned to its source, recognizing the hulking body as the commanding officer who’d been talking with the Doctor on their first day here. “Oh thank God. Sir, please. She won’t let me see him.”
“Nurse Miria, I presume?” Somilo asked.
The nurse nodded.
“By order of high command, you will accompany Miss Tyler to the Doctor’s bedside. You will then prepare him for transport. He will be leaving the hospital and returning to Miss Tyler’s care in his own ship.”
“But Sir!”
“The Doctor requires the care that can only be provided within his own ship’s infirmary,” Somilo stated firmly. “You will go now, please. He must be moved to appropriate care.”
Miria glowered at Somilo, clearly perturbed at being ordered around in her own hospital, but she nodded curtly. “Miss Tyler, if you please,” she said, gesturing to Rose toward a glass door to her right.
Before moving to follow, Rose felt Somilo’s hand catch her arm.
“He will be well, Rose Tyler. I promise you. Just get him to his TARDIS. All will be well,” he said.
Rose wondered if his promises were made out of honesty or an attempt to hide denial of the truth. She squeezed Somilo’s hand in appreciation regardless, and followed Nurse Miria to the door, where she watched the woman tap a long password string into the number lock on the door. Once complete, the door’s pressure seal released. They entered quickly, closing the door firmly behind them. It sealed with a hiss. They then waited for a second airlock door to release, allowing them access to the hospital wing.
When the doors opened, Rose frowned. “Don’t we need protective suits or something?” she asked, noticing the lack of garments she normally associated with a quarantined location. All of the shows on TV – they all had those spacesuits, didn’t they? Here? Nothing. She saw the medical staff walking the corridors in the basic clean-lined jumpsuits that reminded her vaguely of hospital scrubs back home. Everything was simple, streamlined, and utilitarian, without decoration or any impractical comforts.
“You were disinfected in the airlock, Rose Tyler,” the nurse said sharply, looking at her as if she were daft. Miria then turned and set off quickly down the corridor, not caring whether Rose or Somilo were keeping pace.
Thankfully, Rose was able to keep up. She followed the nurse and the commander around a corner to the right, down another painfully harsh white corridor to another double door airlock, where they again went through without need of contamination suits – Rose hoped that they weren’t going into higher level quarantine wing, but thought it better not to ask. Then, finally, they arrived in another large ward. The TARDIS translation circuit labeled it the ICU.
Rose stayed near the entrance as Somilo and Miria discussed the situation with the nurse in residence. As the conversation became more heated, she began to walk through the ward nervously. She walked by the beds of Metaxian patients, all wired on their foreheads to monitor their brain activity. The Doctor had said that this Burning was a psychic infection. Looking at the computer screens, Rose saw violent spikes of activity being recorded. The patients were visibly in pain, their faces contorting as if in the grip of nightmares. She realized that that probably was the truth.
She felt a hand grasp her shoulder. “Miss Tyler, please come with me.” Somilo’s expression was grim as he lead her further into the ward, past all of the beds open to the nurse’s station. At the end of the ward were small doors with narrow, slatted windows. The commander opened one, the thick metal door opening with an ominous clang that echoed through the ward.
As the door opened, a figure moved from the floor in the shadows on the opposite end of the room. Bare feet slapped clumsily against the floor, dragging sluggishly as the person approached the corridor light. Thin, pale bare legs, followed by a tall, thin body dressed only in a hospital gown came into the light. As his face emerged, the Doctor winced in the brightness, bringing his hand up to his forehead. He stared at Rose, confused, as if he couldn’t recall who she was. He grasped her shoulders, and slowly spoke.
And Rose could not understand a word.
The Doctor repeated the phrase, gripping her skin more tightly. And then again, when he saw her returned look of confusion. But the TARDIS translation circuit was not working.
“Doctor? It’s Rose,” she said, hoping that if he couldn’t speak English that at least possibly he could still understand her. And then the thought crossed her mind – what if the Doctor didn’t actually know English at all. Maybe this entire time she’d been speaking to him through the translator. “You remember me, yeah?” she asked, forcing her voice to remain as calm and smooth as possible.
The blank stare he gave her was devastating. He appeared disoriented, swaying unsteadily on his feet. He muttered more unintelligible phrases quietly, looking around bewildered at the hospital surroundings. Then suddenly, he began to shout, waving his arms around wildly.
“Miss Tyler, we should get him back to the TARDIS,” Somilo whispered.
The Doctor’s movement stopped quickly as he heard the word. “TARDIS,” he repeated, his eyes growing wide with recognition. He pointed to himself, then toward the exit door. “TARDIS!”
“Well, at least he remembers the name of his ship,” Rose muttered. “We should probably find something better for him to wear, though. Bit cold out there. And do they have his suit?” The question she asked to Miria, who approached them with an opaque bag bulging with what appeared to be clothing.
“There are warmer clothes for him in here,” Miria replied, still scowling as she handed Rose the bag. “His original clothing is in the bottom, along with all of his personal effects.” She then turned to Somilo, handing him a clipboard-style file pad. “If you have no more need of me, I need to return to my patients.”
Somilo began to say something, and then paused, clearly thinking better of it. He thanked her curtly, giving Rose a wan smile as the nurse retreated briskly. “I have his medical records here. We’ll look at them once we get him back to the TARDIS.”
“TARDIS!” The Doctor’s voice was insistent now.
Rose nodded at him, shushing gently. She opened the bag of clothes, finding a thick pair of trousers in a soft, cotton-like material and a knitted pullover, both of which she showed to the Doctor. He stared at them for a moment, then awkwardly pulled the hospital gown over his head and waited for her. Finding herself again needing to control her reaction to his surprising lack of modesty, she handed him the pullover, which he managed to put on with only a little difficulty, and then held trousers open so he could step into them, keeping a hand on her shoulder for balance. She dug deeper into the bag, retrieving his trainers. For now, he could go without the socks – easier to take off once they got back to the ship, she decided. Once he was dressed, Rose took the used gown to the nurses’ station, thanked them quietly for taking care of him, and returned to the Doctor’s side.
“TARDIS?” she asked, nudging him forward.
And finally, he smiled.
- End Chapter Two -
[to chapter three]
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Date: 2008-08-05 02:12 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-08-08 03:19 am (UTC)