Fic: Fractured Reality 9/?
The Doctor tried to edge himself further into the corner of the cell as the men entered. There were three of them; the leading man looked in his mid sixties, the Doctor judged. He had tired rings around his eyes; his grey white hair was messy as though he himself had just woken up. He wore a white coat which had pens in the chest pocket and a stethoscope was draped around his neck. The two men behind wore the white tunics associated with health care orderlies. However neither of them looked as though they had been born for the caring profession. Each had closely cropped hair; similar to the style seen in men serving in the armed forces, and both were very well built; each well over six feet tall with thick muscular necks.
It was the older man who spoke first;
“Mr Smith, it is good to see you awake.” The Doctor looked up at the man and tried to place his accent; his drug addled brain struggled to identify. Hungarian? Polish possibly, he thought to himself. Then he realised how the man had referred to him, Mr Smith and the Doctor wondered if these people knew who he was. Deciding that the best policy was not to enlighten them at this point, he kept quiet.
The older man took a step closer to him and crouched down to his level and asked “Do you know where you are Mr Smith?”
The Doctor looked down at himself and then slowly shook his head and immediately regretted it; a wave of pain exploded in his head, thumping against his temples, he groaned and put his hands over his eyes.
“I am Doctor Kowel, you are in Middlewood Psychiatric Hospital Mr Smith. You seem much calmer now than when you were brought in, would like to follow me? I am sure you have lots of questions.” Dr Kowel motioned to the two orderlies behind him who stepped towards the Doctor and together heaved him to his feet.
The Doctor’s legs buckled underneath him and he realised that he couldn’t stand under his own steam; he had never felt as weak in his life. Leaning heavily on the orderlies, the Doctor managed to follow Kowel out of the room and into a corridor. He tried to make sense of what Kowel had told him; somehow he had got himself admitted as a patient into a mental hospital, they were referring to him as Mr Smith, judging by the state of his appearance, he must have been there for at least a few days.
The corridor outside looked like same as could be found in any other hospital. There were several doors leading off it; some of the no doubt contained rooms, cells, similar to the one he had woken up in. There were other doors, one marked as a bathroom, a cleaner’s cupboard, a small kitchen led off to the right; its door was open but the room was empty. At the end of the corridor was what looked like a nurse’s station and next to that was a door with a plaque that stated ‘Dr. Peitrek Kowel’.
Kowel entered the room and by default the Doctor followed, supported by the two orderlies. They led him over to chair in front of a desk, the Doctor sat down heavily in it as Kowel seated himself behind the desk. The orderlies hovered by the door, blocking any potential escape route. Kowel took a brown card folder out of his desk and opened it, reading over the papers that were inside. He sighed, then took of his glasses and rubbed his eyes before lifting his head up and looking at the Doctor.
“What is the last thing you remember Mr Smith?” He asked.
The Doctor remained silent for a moment, contemplating what to give as an answer. In truth his memories were garbled; he was finding it hard to sort though the images in his mind and decide which were real and which were part of his nightmares. He knew he couldn’t tell the truth; these people were under the impression that he was a human called John Smith; an alias that the Doctor had used on several occasions. He needed to find out what they knew about him, or what they thought they knew about him and then find a way out of this mess and find Martha.
Martha! Again the thought of her came to the forefront of his mind. Mentally he cursed himself; trying to think was like trying to wade through treacle. He kept getting sidetracked, losing his train of thought. Whatever these people had given him was having a very profound effect on his mind. He tried to wake his mind up to formulate a way out but it wasn’t working.
Decided to play unawares, the Doctor finally answered Kowel.
“I’m not sure; everything is muddled. I keep having fragments of memories but they don’t seem real. I was travelling somewhere….” The Doctor shook his head as though he trying to clear his mind; he paused; “I can’t remember where”
Kowel noted something down on the paper, and then looked back at the Doctor;
“Do you remember who you are, where you live, and your job?” Kowel asked. The Doctor shook his head but remained silent. He gestured over to a decanter of water on the desk and Kowel reached over and poured him a glass of water. The Doctor accepted it and drained the glass before replying.
“John Smith, that’s my name but I can’t remember anything else.”
Dr Kowel sighed and closed the file. He stood up and walked around the side of the desk to the Doctor. He pulled a plastic chair from the side of the room and sat down.
“Yes, your name is John Smith. You are an astrophysicist who works for U.N.I.T. and has done so for the last five years. Does any of this seem familiar to you John?”
The Doctor paused, U.N.I.T.? He thought. He shook his head.
Kowel continued; “You live in London, you were married, but your wife, Rose died two months ago in a car accident. Can you remember that John?”
The Doctor looked up at the mention of Rose; his mouth opened in surprise before he had the chance to check on his reactions. Kowel opened the file again and took out a photograph, he passed it to the Doctor; it was a photograph of Rose.
The Doctor looked at the picture; his hands were shaking and he felt his mouth go dry. The picture was one that Jack had taken; Rose was dressed in a red jacket, fitted in at her waist. Her hair was trailing, framing her face and she was smiling. It was one of his favourite photographs and he couldn’t help but smile to himself as he looked at it. She looked so happy on it, Jack had insisted on taking another one, a picture of them both. When he’d seen it he’d more than a little embarrassed over it, he hadn’t wanted to pose for the camera in the first place but Jack wouldn’t let it and Rose had pleaded. In the end the picture had been taken; he had been stood behind her, hands on her shoulders. He hadn’t looked at the camera; he’d been looking down directly at Rose who had been stood in front of him, her back towards him. He could remember the scent of her hair, lavender from the shampoo she had just used.
When Rose saw the picture she had gone quiet and even Jack had raised an eyebrow in a silent question over the look on the Doctor’s face on it. He’d felt embarrassed that his feelings for her had been written all over his face, and Jack had captured them in the photograph. He’d looked at the picture then grunted; diving below the grating to start tinkering again with the wiring; something he did whenever he needed thinking time. Rose had bit her lip watching him, then had picked up the picture and announced that she was keeping it and disappeared off to her room. It was only a long time later that the Doctor had found the picture again; after Rose was gone. It was under the pillow on her bed; slightly crumpled from being slept on.
“John” Dr Kowel’s voice brought him back to reality. He was holding out another picture. The Doctor reached over with trembling fingers, he took the photograph and gasped; it was a wedding photograph; of him and Rose.
“No, this isn’t right” he blurted out before he could stop himself. He stared at the picture, one finger caressing down it. Rose had never looked more beautiful in her life, and even though he knew the picture was a fake, he couldn’t prevent the tears welling up in his eyes. She had an ivory gown on, with roses in her hair, she carried a bouquet of more roses and she had the most beautiful smile on her face. And she was on his arm; it was a picture of their wedding, a wedding that had never happened. They were both laughing and he could see how the picture had captured the instant someone had thrown rice into the air.
But it wasn’t real, his mind was fuddled but he knew the picture wasn’t real. He handed it back to Kowel and shook his head; “this isn’t real” He said.
Kowel placed his hand on the doctor’s; he spoke gently and quietly as though he didn’t want to alarm him, “John, this was your wife Rose. She died two months ago. You work for U.N.I.T. but when you returned after your bereavement leave, you started behaving erratically. You disappeared from work two weeks ago and turned up here, in Sheffield, last week. John I am really sorry about this; you attacked someone in the city center, you hurt them. You were arrested and eventually brought here for evaluation. You had a breakdown John, and you hurt someone, seriously.”
“NO!” The Doctor shouted. “This isn’t right. She… she isn’t dead. She is not my wife either, she is just… was just a friend and she isn’t dead” he pushed the photographs back at Kowel as he tried to work out what was happening to him. He realised that these people didn’t know what they were doing; they were treating him as a human. He knew he hadn’t hurt anyone either, the thought that he could do something like that made him feel physically sick. He looked around him and tried to think of how to get out of the hospital, he stepped over to the window, rattled it and found it locked. Kowel stood up and signalled to the orderlies, they came up behind him and took hold of his arms.
“John calm down. Listen to me, we can work this out. You just have to let us do our jobs and we can help you.” Kowel moved back to behind his desk. The Doctor started to struggle as the orderlies tried to make him sit back down in the chair. He started shouting, trying to pull away, he realised that Kowel was reaching for something and he struggled harder, shouting and trying to wriggle from their grasp. The orderlies pushed him down onto the floor and held his arms behind him, leaning heavily on his chest. He could hardly breathe and he gasped out one last “No!” then felt the tell tale sting and coldness spread up his arm as Kowel injected him with something.
He was still trying to gasp “No” as he sank into unconsciousness.
It was the older man who spoke first;
“Mr Smith, it is good to see you awake.” The Doctor looked up at the man and tried to place his accent; his drug addled brain struggled to identify. Hungarian? Polish possibly, he thought to himself. Then he realised how the man had referred to him, Mr Smith and the Doctor wondered if these people knew who he was. Deciding that the best policy was not to enlighten them at this point, he kept quiet.
The older man took a step closer to him and crouched down to his level and asked “Do you know where you are Mr Smith?”
The Doctor looked down at himself and then slowly shook his head and immediately regretted it; a wave of pain exploded in his head, thumping against his temples, he groaned and put his hands over his eyes.
“I am Doctor Kowel, you are in Middlewood Psychiatric Hospital Mr Smith. You seem much calmer now than when you were brought in, would like to follow me? I am sure you have lots of questions.” Dr Kowel motioned to the two orderlies behind him who stepped towards the Doctor and together heaved him to his feet.
The Doctor’s legs buckled underneath him and he realised that he couldn’t stand under his own steam; he had never felt as weak in his life. Leaning heavily on the orderlies, the Doctor managed to follow Kowel out of the room and into a corridor. He tried to make sense of what Kowel had told him; somehow he had got himself admitted as a patient into a mental hospital, they were referring to him as Mr Smith, judging by the state of his appearance, he must have been there for at least a few days.
The corridor outside looked like same as could be found in any other hospital. There were several doors leading off it; some of the no doubt contained rooms, cells, similar to the one he had woken up in. There were other doors, one marked as a bathroom, a cleaner’s cupboard, a small kitchen led off to the right; its door was open but the room was empty. At the end of the corridor was what looked like a nurse’s station and next to that was a door with a plaque that stated ‘Dr. Peitrek Kowel’.
Kowel entered the room and by default the Doctor followed, supported by the two orderlies. They led him over to chair in front of a desk, the Doctor sat down heavily in it as Kowel seated himself behind the desk. The orderlies hovered by the door, blocking any potential escape route. Kowel took a brown card folder out of his desk and opened it, reading over the papers that were inside. He sighed, then took of his glasses and rubbed his eyes before lifting his head up and looking at the Doctor.
“What is the last thing you remember Mr Smith?” He asked.
The Doctor remained silent for a moment, contemplating what to give as an answer. In truth his memories were garbled; he was finding it hard to sort though the images in his mind and decide which were real and which were part of his nightmares. He knew he couldn’t tell the truth; these people were under the impression that he was a human called John Smith; an alias that the Doctor had used on several occasions. He needed to find out what they knew about him, or what they thought they knew about him and then find a way out of this mess and find Martha.
Martha! Again the thought of her came to the forefront of his mind. Mentally he cursed himself; trying to think was like trying to wade through treacle. He kept getting sidetracked, losing his train of thought. Whatever these people had given him was having a very profound effect on his mind. He tried to wake his mind up to formulate a way out but it wasn’t working.
Decided to play unawares, the Doctor finally answered Kowel.
“I’m not sure; everything is muddled. I keep having fragments of memories but they don’t seem real. I was travelling somewhere….” The Doctor shook his head as though he trying to clear his mind; he paused; “I can’t remember where”
Kowel noted something down on the paper, and then looked back at the Doctor;
“Do you remember who you are, where you live, and your job?” Kowel asked. The Doctor shook his head but remained silent. He gestured over to a decanter of water on the desk and Kowel reached over and poured him a glass of water. The Doctor accepted it and drained the glass before replying.
“John Smith, that’s my name but I can’t remember anything else.”
Dr Kowel sighed and closed the file. He stood up and walked around the side of the desk to the Doctor. He pulled a plastic chair from the side of the room and sat down.
“Yes, your name is John Smith. You are an astrophysicist who works for U.N.I.T. and has done so for the last five years. Does any of this seem familiar to you John?”
The Doctor paused, U.N.I.T.? He thought. He shook his head.
Kowel continued; “You live in London, you were married, but your wife, Rose died two months ago in a car accident. Can you remember that John?”
The Doctor looked up at the mention of Rose; his mouth opened in surprise before he had the chance to check on his reactions. Kowel opened the file again and took out a photograph, he passed it to the Doctor; it was a photograph of Rose.
The Doctor looked at the picture; his hands were shaking and he felt his mouth go dry. The picture was one that Jack had taken; Rose was dressed in a red jacket, fitted in at her waist. Her hair was trailing, framing her face and she was smiling. It was one of his favourite photographs and he couldn’t help but smile to himself as he looked at it. She looked so happy on it, Jack had insisted on taking another one, a picture of them both. When he’d seen it he’d more than a little embarrassed over it, he hadn’t wanted to pose for the camera in the first place but Jack wouldn’t let it and Rose had pleaded. In the end the picture had been taken; he had been stood behind her, hands on her shoulders. He hadn’t looked at the camera; he’d been looking down directly at Rose who had been stood in front of him, her back towards him. He could remember the scent of her hair, lavender from the shampoo she had just used.
When Rose saw the picture she had gone quiet and even Jack had raised an eyebrow in a silent question over the look on the Doctor’s face on it. He’d felt embarrassed that his feelings for her had been written all over his face, and Jack had captured them in the photograph. He’d looked at the picture then grunted; diving below the grating to start tinkering again with the wiring; something he did whenever he needed thinking time. Rose had bit her lip watching him, then had picked up the picture and announced that she was keeping it and disappeared off to her room. It was only a long time later that the Doctor had found the picture again; after Rose was gone. It was under the pillow on her bed; slightly crumpled from being slept on.
“John” Dr Kowel’s voice brought him back to reality. He was holding out another picture. The Doctor reached over with trembling fingers, he took the photograph and gasped; it was a wedding photograph; of him and Rose.
“No, this isn’t right” he blurted out before he could stop himself. He stared at the picture, one finger caressing down it. Rose had never looked more beautiful in her life, and even though he knew the picture was a fake, he couldn’t prevent the tears welling up in his eyes. She had an ivory gown on, with roses in her hair, she carried a bouquet of more roses and she had the most beautiful smile on her face. And she was on his arm; it was a picture of their wedding, a wedding that had never happened. They were both laughing and he could see how the picture had captured the instant someone had thrown rice into the air.
But it wasn’t real, his mind was fuddled but he knew the picture wasn’t real. He handed it back to Kowel and shook his head; “this isn’t real” He said.
Kowel placed his hand on the doctor’s; he spoke gently and quietly as though he didn’t want to alarm him, “John, this was your wife Rose. She died two months ago. You work for U.N.I.T. but when you returned after your bereavement leave, you started behaving erratically. You disappeared from work two weeks ago and turned up here, in Sheffield, last week. John I am really sorry about this; you attacked someone in the city center, you hurt them. You were arrested and eventually brought here for evaluation. You had a breakdown John, and you hurt someone, seriously.”
“NO!” The Doctor shouted. “This isn’t right. She… she isn’t dead. She is not my wife either, she is just… was just a friend and she isn’t dead” he pushed the photographs back at Kowel as he tried to work out what was happening to him. He realised that these people didn’t know what they were doing; they were treating him as a human. He knew he hadn’t hurt anyone either, the thought that he could do something like that made him feel physically sick. He looked around him and tried to think of how to get out of the hospital, he stepped over to the window, rattled it and found it locked. Kowel stood up and signalled to the orderlies, they came up behind him and took hold of his arms.
“John calm down. Listen to me, we can work this out. You just have to let us do our jobs and we can help you.” Kowel moved back to behind his desk. The Doctor started to struggle as the orderlies tried to make him sit back down in the chair. He started shouting, trying to pull away, he realised that Kowel was reaching for something and he struggled harder, shouting and trying to wriggle from their grasp. The orderlies pushed him down onto the floor and held his arms behind him, leaning heavily on his chest. He could hardly breathe and he gasped out one last “No!” then felt the tell tale sting and coldness spread up his arm as Kowel injected him with something.
He was still trying to gasp “No” as he sank into unconsciousness.