The Game- Chapter 7- Memories
Chapter 7
Memories
Rose slipped through the door of the medical station, casting a final look behind her as she went. This could be the last she saw of the world; she wanted him in that last view.
Within minutes, she felt lost, with no light and no real idea of where she was going, so she simply plunged down, spurred by the idea of access to medical supplies, weapons and the T.A.R.D.I.S…oh God…The T.A.R.D.I.S…home, except it wasn’t home…he was home, and he’d forgotten her. A wave of grief settled over her, stopped her in her tracks. For a moment or two she stopped lost in her pain.
A scream cut the gloom, and she pressed on, whatever had happened, whatever was going to happen, she wasn’t in it for herself, she wasn’t even in it for him, and she had long since readied herself for the idea that she would die getting out of here. She hadn’t been ready to lose him too, but if she had to, to end this so be it.
The archive proper, seemed to be organized by date, with the belongings of the most recent prisoners packed in at the front.
At the first cavern she ducked into there was the newest mound of belongings, the Doctors’ among them. She was awestruck, all these caverns, all these things, all those people, and then she saw it…The T.A.R.D.I.S! She moved towards is slowly, resting her fingers on the rough wood for a second, running her fingers over the lock. Somehow seeing the T.A.R.D.I.S made it real. The tonics made her think she was seeing the Doctor around every corner, until it drove her close to crazy. Even now when she could touch him, hear the sound of his voice, it was almost easier to believe she was insane than that she was forgotten, but through all the hallucinations, she’d never seen the TARDIS and here it was.
She tore herself away, whispering “I’ll be back” to the battered wood, she hoped she wasn’t lying.
Rose found the long coat lying atop a short handled blade with a vicious serrated edge. She wrapped herself in the coat, breathing in the smell of it for a moment, before shoving the blade in her boot.
It was unheard of for any prisoner to be allowed to retain their weapons and the guards were often lazy. She might just get lucky, and if she didn’t, well she was due to die anyway.
She left the first cavernous hangar, and pressed on following the dates on the walls to eighty days ago, when she was taken. As she walked Rose thought about time, and about change, two years of training with Torchwood, of learning to adapt to mind numbing, soul crushing grief, of rebuilding damaged relationships and making new ones, that day, finding him, with a…hatbox, and then here eighty days of endless violence, she’d killed, she’d changed. Would she still be the person he wanted? Had he cared for the ones who came after her more? Could she do that again? Fall to his back and follow him when she had grown so used to being in command and in being obeyed? Would they live that long?
Reaching her own hangar, she glanced around, no one down here, there rarely was apparently. She grabbed her weapon, a small handgun with very few bullets remaining in it, and her communicator, which a cursory check revealed to be broken, to the extent that it rattled when shaken.
Leaving the hangar, she jumped back at the sight of an approaching guard, falling onto an exposed spike.
She dragged herself off it when the guard came past, and hid the wound in the Doctors coat, which soaked with her warm blood. She turned painfully and began the long slog back up to the Medical bay, to The Doctor, to The Visier, to death…
Initially, the Doctor had struggled. Instinct making him move away from the unfamiliar and rudimentary instruments that the medic deemed fit to use on him. However, he eventually ignored said instincts and let the medic do his job - not wanting his noncooperation to land the Dianarian in trouble with the Visier. And so, the medic had began his testing. Most of which the Doctor had labeled under 'B' for barbaric.
The mind probe had been uncomfortable at first; but not unbearably so; and he had thought that once it had hit the resistance of 'shielding' that would be the end of that particular test. How wrong he'd been. Evidently, he was not the first species with higher mental abilities that the Dianarians had captured. Instead of backing down upon finding the resistance, the probing had increased in ferocity. To such a degree that it had been painful. He had sat there, with gritted teeth and sweat beading at his temples, for what felt like hours; of course, he knew it had only been a mere twenty minutes, 35 seconds...36 seconds; as the mental instrument attached to his head tried to get inside his mind. It was only when he'd started to experience tremors through his body that the probing stopped - the medic noting something down before detaching the instrument.
Taking a break from further mental tests, the medic moved to the physical kind. A full body scan was performed on the Doctor, cataloguing his physiology - two hearts, extra ribs, low body temperature and slow pulse. The medic was surprised to find that, despite his scrawny build, the Doctor was actually physically stronger than most of the species around his size. He had been even more surprised when he'd learnt about the Doctor's respiratory bypass system. While the medic had found it particularly fascinating, the Doctor had not found the whole process of asphyxia fascinating nor necessary - he had tried to say as much, once he could catch his breath, but the tonic still in his system had made it nigh impossible.
A vial of blood was taken and placed in a machine for analysis, before being labelled and locked away. 'Will have to get that later' Was the Doctor's thought as he watched where the blood was stored.
The Medic moved on to a particular test that the Doctor didn't like one bit. Manipulating emotions. A different probe was placed at his temples and he felt it begin to filter through, looking for the emotion that would course the most pain...or so it seemed.
With some prey it was grief, others despair. For the Doctor, it was guilt. The probe was designed to pick out points in the prey's life where they experienced such emotion and replay it to see the reaction. The Doctor had had a long life and had experienced a lot of guilt. But the probe chose distinctive points in time and the freshest memories it could find. The Doctor was forced to relive the Master's governing of Earth in the 'year that never was' and the realisation that he couldn't save the other Time Lord. Guilt over Jack's 'condition' and how he couldn't help him, and more guilt over his reaction to the man's 'condition'. Guilt concerning Donna's death. Martha and her family. Rose...
Abruptly, the probe was wrenched from his skull and set aside. The Doctor blinked a couple of times and felt something running down his cheek. That was when he realised he'd been crying. He wiped his face with one hand, while watching the Medic prepare a syringe.
"Wha?" He tried to ask but he couldn't form the question.
"The remaining tests require you to be sedated," the Medic said softly, injecting the sedative into the Doctor's arm. "It'll be better for you."
"Ooh! Do you think he's going to slice you up? Take a closer look inside?" The hallucination of the Master's voice floated over him as he lay on the metal bed. Still drug-dilated brown eyes flicked over to look at the grinning blond man. "Can you imagine? Prodding his paws around your insides, moving things around...Oh! Maybe he'll put something inside you! That'd be interesting."
With mixed thoughts of worry; over what tests would be performed; and relief; that he would have a reprieve from his tonic induced hallucinations; the Doctor succumbed to the sedative flooding his system.