Witnessing the Protector 1/?
Title: Witnessing the Protector 1/?
Author: Hezikiah
Disclaimer: Not mine, it's theirs. *points in the direction of the UK*
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairings: Donna, Shaun, Ten, OC Dr. Ella Porter
Warnings: No warnings. Well, this story has to do with Ten being a creepy stalker, but it all turns out ok. Not as dark as it seems.
Summary: When Donna and Shaun's neighbor notices a strange man hanging around outside their house, her world begins to turn upside down...
Author's note: This story is written in the style of an epistolary story. I've wanted to try my hand at applying this style to fanfiction and this seemed perfect. Just for giggles, I threw in some crappy rendered sketches since the character is an artist and it makes it seem more like an actual journal and sketchbook. I wanted to try something a little different this go around.
A/N 2: Also, this satisfies my need to whump someone.
Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter 7
Selected entries from the personal journal and sketchbook of Dr. Ella Porter, Professor of Art History and amateur artist.
February 1, 2011
The town home next door has finally been sold! It will be nice to have new neighbors and not an empty old house.
Weather's turned awful again. When is it ever going to stop snowing? I can't wait to get back to California when my contract at the university ends. England is lovely, but I miss the sunshine. Two more years to go!
February 15, 2011
The new family moved in today, looks like a nice couple. I saw the moving van as I was slogging through the sleet this evening from the Tube stop. The wife has got the most brilliant ginger hair I've ever seen. I always wanted to be a redhead, but was fated to walk the earth as a boring old brunette. Oh well. The husband is black with a sweet smile.
I introduced myself. Their names are Donna and Shaun Temple-Noble. On impulse, I invited them over for tea sometime and then almost stuck my foot in my mouth. I've never actually had anyone over for tea, especially posh people! The only reason I can afford to live in this neighborhood is because the university owns the house and it's free. Otherwise, all I'd be able to afford is a bunk bed in an attic with my students. Oh well, let's hope I buy the right kind of scones. I think that's what you eat for tea? Time to ask Professor Google.
February 25, 2011
Donna and Shaun came over for tea this afternoon. They're both a lot more down-to-earth than I realized and not like most of the snots around here. Donna told me they've been married for less than a year and they won the lottery, which accounts for buying the town home. Donna rather shyly told me that she's also about eight weeks pregnant with their first baby, which was a surprise because she assumed she was too old to have children. She can't be more than 40, so I'm not that shocked, but I congratulated them profusely. They seem very excited about the prospect of starting a family and it will be nice to have more children in the neighborhood.
They were impressed with some of the artwork I had on display and I asked permission to sketch them, to which they agreed.
Shaun
Donna
Such a nice couple. I have a feeling that we're going to be good friends.
Something's a little strange about Donna, though. She seems to be a little...vague? Spacy? I can't quite find the right word for it. It's like she's not quite all there, but I don't mean intelligence-wise. I get the impression that she's smart. I don't know. Maybe it's just me, or it's just her pregnancy hormones. They blame everything on hormones these days, so who really knows?
Feb. 28, 2011
I saw the weirdest thing today and I mean weird. I was puttering about in the park across the street, looking for some squirrels to sketch. English squirrels are so damn cute. It's still snowing, for cripes sake, so it might be too early for squirrels, but I didn't care. Anyway, there I was, blundering off the path in the forested section of the park, when I saw this giant blue “police” box just parked there in the glade.
What the hell is a police box? Professor Google to the rescue! I guess the cops used them back in the old days to call for help and as a temporary prison. But...those things were supposed to be on streets, not in the middle of the woods.
Also, I've been to that glade a million times before and I've never seen anything like that box. The squirrels weren't around, so I pulled out this journal and sketched it.
Freaky blue box in the woods!
Here's the weird thing. As I finished the drawing, the door of the box opened and a man in a blue suit stuck his head out. He looked right at me and seemed genuinely shocked to see me standing there. He had a sort of manic look in his eyes and I was terrified that he was a nutter, so I dashed off. The dude had sideburns. Sideburns! Who the heck wears sideburns these days except for Elvis impersonators and hipsters?
And I thought LA was weird...
March 1, 2011
Say hello to the klutz, that's me! Effing ice storm last night. I slipped on an icy patch on the front steps and fell. Shaun heard me yelling and found me sprawled on the sidewalk. He was kind enough to drive me to A&E, where I was told I'd sprained my ankle and was sent to bed for two weeks with a set of crutches. So, I'm on bed rest. Donna came over bearing tea and sympathy. We wound up watching telly and making fun of Gordon Ramsey. I won't repeat the things she called him, for propriety's sake. Donna's an absolute riot and I'm glad she moved next door. Things will be less lonely around here!
I've chosen to convalesce on the sofa in my upstairs office, since it overlooks the street and gives me something to look at. And I had plenty to look at. After Donna went home, I noticed the guy in the blue suit from the woods standing across the street staring at her house. Except this time, he was wearing a long brown duster coat (thinks he's a cowboy, maybe?). Anyway, he gave me the creeps big time. I'm not sure why, but I decided to sketch him.
Wonder what he's doing there?
As I finished drawing, his eyes flickered up to my house and I'm pretty sure he saw me staring at him. His eyes narrowed and I had to lean back from the sofa to hide. Brr.
March 2, 2011
The creeper was back today, but this time he was wearing a brown pinstripe suit. I'm calling him Mr. Pinstripes. I couldn't help but watch him. I'm not a nosybody, not at all. Let people go about their business, but I really don't like the way he stares at Donna and Shaun's house. Who is this guy?
March 3, 2011
Day Three and he's still there. I'm starting to feel like a stalker now with this weird obsession to look out for the creeper on the street. Ha! I'm stalking a stalker!
I need to get a life...just as soon as this stupid ankle decides to heal. Oh well, time for telly and Jammie Dodgers!
March 6, 2011
I'm frightened for Donna. I should really tell her or maybe even Shaun about this guy. I can't believe they haven't noticed him. Every time they leave the house, he steps into the park. Why haven't they seen him?! I have to tell them, just as soon as I can get out of this stupid house. Damn, I wish that we'd thought to exchange mobile numbers! Maybe she knows him, maybe not. I don't know if I should go to the police. I mean, technically he's not breaking any laws, is he? It's not against the law to just stand on the sidewalk. But still, this doesn't feel right! I'm really starting to become frightened of this whole affair. I have to tell Donna and Shaun. I'd never forgive myself if that man did something awful to them and I could have prevented it.
March 7, 2011
Oh god, I just don't know what to do! And now he's looking at me! Mr. Pinstripes was standing in front of my house this morning, just looking up at my window. MY HOUSE!!!! I only saw him for a second, but it was enough for me to sketch him. I have to tell the cops or something. Hopefully, my ankle will be well enough for me to leave the house soon. I haven't gone near the office window all day and I've kept the front curtains closed. I'm too scared to look outside.
Mr. Pinstripes creeping about outside my house and staring at my window.
March 10, 2011 (maybe?!)
I'm trying to remain calm as I write this. I'm not sure if I've been kidnapped or not...if I have, the kidnapper in question is very cordial and polite and seems unhappy whenever I start to cry. Mr. Pinstripes says that I'm not being held against my will and that I'm free to go as soon as I hear him out. Wait, that's not really his name. I can't help but think of him that way. He calls himself the Doctor...oh, but I'm rambling. I guess I'm just trying to process all of this and I thought writing in my journal would help. I should really back up.
So I was on my way through the park to the shops. Like I'd feared, I wasn't quite ready for the trip and my ankle started hurting. I decided to sit down on a bench and rest. I saw some cute squirrels in a tree and pulled out my journal to sketch them. After a few minutes, I happened to look up and saw Mr. Pinstripes striding towards me. I guess he was about 16 or 17 yards away.
There was something about his bearing, like he had a purpose for approaching me and I got a horrible feeling of foreboding. You see, I was alone in the park. There was no one else around, and I had the overwhelming urge to run. I shoved the journal into my shopping bag, bolted off the bench, and raced down the path adjacent to the stream that runs through the park. I could see the rooftops of the shops just over the treeline. Just around the bend of the path was the park gate and safety, if I could only reach it in time. My ankle throbbed with stabbing pain, but I ignored it as I slipped and slid down the trail, muddy from the melting snow.
I shouldn't have glanced over my shoulder. I should have just kept going, but I was so scared. I'd never felt such a desperate need to run, like I was being hunted. All I wanted was to get away, get to the police. Mr. Pinstripes was trouble, I just knew it. But, I looked back and saw he had easily gained on me and was about 5 yards behind me. He yelled at me to stop. Yeah, right!
But who was I kidding? Mr. Pinstripes is built like a runner. There was no way I was going to escape him, but I sure was going to try. I felt a surge of adrenaline as I stepped down into a washed out part of the trail and suddenly lost my balance. I remember screaming as I tumbled backwards into space. The stream is a ten foot drop below the bank. I know I landed on my back in the water because I heard the splash and instantly went numb from the freezing water. At the same time, the back of my head connected with a sharp rock and I heard a cracking sound as white-hot pain disrupted my vision. I heard a shout and through the fog that covered my eyes, I saw him looking down at me from the bank above, an expression of shock and dismay on his face. He yelled something at me and looked around for a way down to the stream, but at that point I blacked out.
I don't know how long I was out, but it must have been several hours. Opening my eyes, I discovered that I was lying on a soft bed and was covered with a thin blanket. The lights were a bit dim, but I could make out gleaming white cabinets and unfamiliar, almost alien equipment against the walls. It didn't look like a hospital room, so I decided I must still be in A&E. I found that thought comforting. If I was in hospital, then I was safe from Mr. Pinstripes. An instant wave of relief washed over me.
I remember being surprised that neither my head or my ankle hurt much after the accident. I figured the doctors must have given me a powerful pain reliever and I was perfectly happy with that. A male voice said, “Oh good, you're awake.” There was a movement out of the corner of my eye and a blinding light suddenly filled my field of vision. I groaned in protest and squeezed my eyes shut. “Oops, sorry! Should have warned you about that!” the voice continued. “Can you open your eyes for me? I need to check your pupils.”
I forced my eyes open and looked into the light, which obscured the face of the doctor. The light clicked off after a moment and I shut them again. My hands reached up and scrubbed at my eyes, trying to rub away the pinpoints that burned and danced in the dark.
The doctor started babbling. “Hmm...your pupils aren't contracting evenly, so that means you've got a concussion. But, still, things could be worse after that tumble you took. How do you feel, Dr. Porter?”
I felt really weird, like I was doped up on something. It was hard to think straight and I attributed it to the medication. “Loopy. What did you give me?” My voice was scratchy and rough, like it is after you just wake up.
“Nothing.”
“Really?” I was surprised at that.
“Yes. You're probably feeling disoriented from the concussion. You cracked the back of your head open on that rock, but I patched you up. That, and your ankle. You'd sprained it again. Also, some minor contusions. Oh! And bruised ribs. Nothing much I can do about that, unfortunately. They should heal up in a few days, but you're going to be a bit sore.” There was a pause as I heard him take a deep breath before he continued his babbling. “I am so sorry this happened to you, Dr. Porter. I really am.”
I was confused at the contrite tone in his voice. “Why...why are you sorry?”
“Because this is all my fault. Stupid doctor that I am, if I had thought through how to approach you, in a crowded street for instance, then you wouldn't have run away from me and you wouldn't have fallen into the stream and done yourself a mischief.”
An icy chill ran down my spine at his words. My eyes flew open and I shot upright at the same time, crying out in alarm when I saw who it was. Mr. Pinstripes was standing there! The world swam and I felt a rising wave of nausea that rivaled the panic that filled me. A dull, aching pain shot through my ribcage, but I ignored it as my eyes darted around, looking for a means of escape. I could see a doorway on the far side of the room, but even in my weakened state, I knew that I didn't have the strength to make it that far.
“Dr. Porter, it's ok. You're safe. Just lie down. That's it...” Strong hands touched my shoulders and tried to guide me back down onto the bed. My fight-or-flight instinct instantly took over and I shrieked and lashed out at him. He grabbed my wrists to prevent me from hitting him. “Sssh. Sssh. I'm not going to hurt you. I'm not. Please, just calm down now.” There was something hypnotically soothing about his soft voice and, as much as I didn't want to listen, I could feel my will to resist him start to wane. I fought it off, though. I certainly was not safe! Not at all! I struggled against his powerful hands that had managed to press me down to the mattress, pinning me by the wrists. I know now that he was only trying to protect himself and me from getting hurt, but being held down frightened me further and I kicked and screamed, thrashing my body around to try and get out of his grip.
His voice remained calm, but there was a hint of resolution in it now. “Dr. Porter, Eloise. Please. You've got a concussion, you're confused, and you're scared. I understand and I'm sorry. I really don't want to sedate you because that will only make this situation worse, but I will if you can't calm down. I won't have you hurting yourself further.”
The threat of sedation was what broke through my addled brain. The very idea of being unconscious while under Mr. Pinstripes' imprisonment was enough to still my flailing limbs and silence my screams. I fought back against the nausea, feeling like I was going to throw up. The world swam in irritating circles and I felt terrible. My exertions had exhausted me and all I could do was take a few deep, shuddering breaths as I summoned the courage to look into the face of my captor. His eyes were huge and earnest, a deep chocolate brown, and held no malice. All I saw in his eyes was concern. Mr. Pinstripes' grip on my wrists eased up, but he didn't take his hands off me. "That's better."
We stared at each other for a long moment before helpless tears began trickling down my cheeks and I started sobbing. I had no idea what he was going to do to me and I was the most frightened I'd ever been in my whole life.
A sad and distressed look crossed his face when he saw me weeping and that surprised me. “Aw, there's no need to cry. Like I said, you're safe here. Please don't cry, Dr. Porter. I'm not going to hurt you.” His voice was quiet and gentle.
I couldn't stop the tears, though. I was too terrified. “Who...who are you?”
He smiled kindly at me. “I'm the Doctor.”
I swallowed once to calm my throat, which was sore from screaming. “I can see that. Doctor who?”
“Just the Doctor.” His hands let go of me and he stood up straight, trusting that I wouldn't panic.
I had kicked the blanket to the end of the bed and he pulled it back over me. “How do you know my name? And why have you been watching Donna and Shaun's house? And mine? And why didn't you take me to A&E?” My voice rose in pitch as I started to involuntarily shake in fright. I clutched at the blanket, needing something to hold on to. “Where am I? Where have you brought me? This isn't a hospital, is it?”
His hands covered mine and he squeezed them lightly. I could tell he was trying to keep me calm. “Your name is on your mailbox. I've been watching Donna and Shaun Temple-Noble's house and yours for reasons that I'll happily divulge once you've rested and recovered, because it would take too long to explain now. As for A&E, the TARDIS was closer and well...I couldn't have you reporting me to the police. That's where you are right now, in the medical bay of my ship. It's called the TARDIS.”
“Ship?” That made no sense. We were too far from the river or the seaside for him to have carried me to a ship.
“I'll tell you all about it when you've rested, I promise. I think you should try to sleep now.”
Sleeping was the last thing I wanted to do. I shook my head. Despite his soothing words and quiet manner, I didn't feel any safer. "I want to go home." I knew I sounded like a small child then, but I didn't really care. It was the truth. I was still crying silently and I swiped at my wet cheeks in a futile gesture to stop my tears.
"I know, but your injuries are too severe for you to be left alone, Dr. Porter. You're under my care for the time being.” The Doctor reached into his pocket and pulled out a hankie, which he used to gently wipe my face. “There now, no more tears. There's nothing to be afraid of." I didn't understand why he was being so kind, especially after over a week of standing outside my house and frightening the tarnation out of me. “Eloise...may I call you Eloise? Or do you prefer Dr. Porter?”
“No one calls me Eloise, except for my mother. And only my students and colleagues call me Dr. Porter. I go by Ella.”
“Ella, then. You're going to be fine. You just need some time to heal.”
“And then what?” I was scared to ask the question, but I had to know. “I'm your prisoner.”
A look of pure shock crossed the Doctor's face and he stepped back in alarm. “Is that what you really think?” he snapped. “That I've taken you prisoner, Ella?”
I was surprised by his vehemence and it scared me even more. “You...you said you couldn't have me telling the police! Why else would you have brought me here, if not for keeping me from the authorities? You've been stalking my house, stalking my neighbors for reasons I don't know...”
“And I said I would explain, once you've rested and are more coherent,” he interrupted me. “But one thing is certain: you are not my prisoner. You are free to go once you're stable enough to leave and you've heard me out. Agreed?”
What else was I supposed to do? I was tired and felt defenseless and vulnerable. “I...guess so,” I conceded.
A smile lit up his face. “Great! I'm glad that we've come to an understanding.” He stepped closer to the bed and I tried not to shrink back from him. “Now, are you in pain?”
My confused hysterical fit had caused my ribs to hurt and my head to start pounding. I nodded.
“Well, we'll just have to do something about that. Can't have you in pain, can we? Will you let me help you to sit up?” I hesitated and then nodded again. I wasn't too sure what to make of the pinstriped doctor who'd decided that I was going to be his patient whether I liked it or not.. But, he seemed pleased that I'd agreed and he slid an arm underneath my shoulders, pulling me upwards. The Doctor propped a few pillows behind my back so that I was sitting up at an angle. “There you go.”
Sitting up was a huge mistake. I wasn't ready yet. My ribcage throbbed and ached and I wrapped my arms tight around my middle, unable to suppress a groan. I had never been in so much pain in my life. Suddenly, I realized something was amiss. I was naked under the dark blue, short sleeved hospital gown that I'd been dressed in. “Doctor, where...? My clothes...” I turned bright red as mortification filled me.
He shifted his weight from one foot to the other and looked chagrined. “It was necessary to take them off of you. You were wet and muddy from falling into the stream and it was freezing out there. I had to to prevent hypothermia from setting in, but don't worry! I worked very fast, I didn't peek, and I kept you covered up as much as possible.” I believed him for some reason, and his obvious embarrassment was genuine. He cleared his throat and turned around to rummage in a cabinet. “Anyway, I've got just the thing here to take care of that pain. Works a right treat.”
Well, of course it had been necessary, but I still felt a bit flustered knowing he'd seen me without my clothes on. I was just glad that I'd been unconscious because I think facing him would have been more awkward if I'd remembered. I didn't want to wear the strange gown and feel like a patient, if that makes any sense, even though it wasn't revealing at all. I was completely covered, thanks to the wraparound design. “May I have my clothes back now?”
He shook his head. “They're all but ruined.” The Doctor removed a vial out of a cabinet, but I couldn't really see what he was doing as his back was to me. “Not to worry, though. I've got plenty of clothing you can wear once you're well enough to leave the medical bay.”
“Oh.” I took the opportunity to look around the room some more. It wasn't very large, but I could see three other examination beds besides my own separated by opaque blue curtains that could be pulled to offer privacy. They were all open, though. The opposite walls were filled with cabinets and shelves that held strange instruments and machinery. I turned, whimpering as pain thudded through my ribs, and saw a monitor on the wall behind me. It seemed to be displaying my vital signs. I realized that I didn't recognize any of the technology. It was all futuristic and unfamiliar. I've never liked hospitals in the first place and not understanding what everything was used for scared me. Another wave of apprehension filled me and I tried not to start crying again. Really, I'm not that weepy! I blamed it on the concussion and was furious with myself for not being able to control my emotions. “I don't know what any of this stuff is used for,” I said to the Doctor's back.
He chuckled. “I don't expect you would. You're a doctor, but not a medical doctor, and most of it's from the future and not from your world.”
How did he know I wasn't a medical doctor? And the future? Other worlds? I shook my head in confusion and instantly regretted doing that because it intensified the pain in my head. “You're not making any sense, Doctor.”
“It will all make perfect sense...in time.” He turned and came back over to me carrying a cylindrical object about the size of a ballpoint pen. Before I knew what was happening, he pushed up the sleeve of my gown and placed the object against my bicep, pressing a button on the end. It didn't hurt, but I yelped and jerked as a cold sensation shot through my arm. The pain in my ribs and my head instantly evaporated. A sigh of relief escaped me and I relaxed. The Doctor smiled as he put what I'd guessed was a futuristic hypodermic needle back on the counter. “Better?”
“Yes.” I hesitated. “Thanks.”
“You're welcome, Ella. Are you thirsty?”
I realized I was parched and my throat was dry. When I nodded, he opened another cabinet and pulled out a white bottle. He twisted the top off and handed it to me. I stared at the bottle and then looked at him. “What is this?”
He quirked an eyebrow. “Just water. Good old H20. Now drink up.” I hesitated and I saw the Doctor suppress a sigh. He took the bottle from me and took a long swig from it. “See? You can trust me. I'm not trying to drug or poison you.” In a flash, he pulled a colorful crazy straw from his pocket and stuck it into the bottle before giving it back to me. “Everything's better with a silly straw, isn't it? Even water!”
This time I did laugh. It was so unexpected and ridiculous that I couldn't help it. He smirked at the sound of my laughter and I saw a flash of relief cross his face as I tried the drink. It was water and I slurped it down, thirstier than I'd realized. Before I knew it, I'd finished and I wanted to ask for more, but I was afraid I might get sick if I did. My stomach felt queasy and I asked to lie back down. The Doctor removed the extra pillows and tugged the blanket back over me as I curled up on my side and shut my eyes, giving in to the exhaustion that I'd been fighting for the last several minutes.
I woke up several hours later and I guessed it was the middle of the night. The Doctor wasn't around. I'd hoped that it had all been some sort of dream, but I could see that it hadn't. I rolled onto my back and groaned aloud because it was sore and felt swollen. I hadn't felt that way earlier and I shifted back onto my side to ease the discomfort. I couldn't go back to sleep and I regarded the alien medical bay, feeling anxious and full of apprehension. The Doctor must have dimmed the lights when he'd left and the only illumination came from dim hexagon-shaped sconces in the walls and the wall monitor above my bed, which made a low and steady thrumming noise. I assumed it was in time to my pulse. Everything was in darkness and shadows.
I wanted to be anywhere else but in that strange, frightening place and I clutched at the blanket as a sudden wave of homesickness washed over me. Tears began trickling down my cheeks and I buried my face in the pillow to stifle an unwilling sob that bubbled up out of nowhere. Once I got started crying, I couldn't stop no matter how hard I tried. I knew that weeping wouldn't do me any good, but it didn't matter. I had never felt so alone and frightened in my life.
I'm not very religious, but I found myself praying to God that I would find a way to get out of there. If I wasn't the Doctor's prisoner (and I still very much felt that I was), I was a prisoner to my own body. I didn't know the extent of my injuries and I was too weak to try to attempt to escape, though I sorely wished I could.
There were footsteps in the corridor outside and I held my breath to stop my sobbing. My shoulders still shook from the force of my tears, though. I didn't want him to see me crying again. I'd read somewhere that you should never show weakness in the face of your enemy. The doors swooshed open and the Doctor poked his head inside. “Ella?”
I didn't answer, just sniffled as I held in my tears. He stepped inside the room and I squeezed my eyes shut as I heard him approach my bed. “What's the matter? Are you in pain? Those meds should last a few more hours...”
I shook my head, not trusting my voice, and kept sniffling. “Then why are you crying?”
It took me a minute to calm down enough to answer him. “I...I don't want to be here.” I intended it to be quiet, but it came out as more of a soft wail. I didn't add that I was terrified and I wanted to go home. He already knew that.
The Doctor was silent for a moment. “I can't take you to hospital and I won't leave you alone considering the state you're in, you have to understand that. Bringing you here was the best option, for everyone.” I opened my eyes and looked up at him. There was an expression of sadness on his face, and what I guessed was frustration. “I'm sorry, I really am. I don't like to see you upset and crying. I know that this situation is difficult, but you have to realize that it involves more than just you. You absolutely cannot leave the TARDIS right now, Ella Porter.”
Those weren't the words that I wanted to hear and I'm pretty sure he knew that. The feeling that I really was his prisoner came back and dread washed over me. Fresh tears welled up and his face fell when he saw them dripping down my cheeks. “Oh, blimey...” He took a deep breath and squatted down so that he was at eye level with me before reaching into his pocket and pulling out his hanky. I let out another sob as he dabbed at my face for the second time that day. “I know this is hard, so very hard for you. You don't handle sudden changes well, I can tell. Please believe me when I say that everything is going to be all right, Ella.”
I didn't believe him and I hiccuped through another burst of tears. “I don't think anything I say is going to help, but a good, long cry can be quite cathartic.” He pressed the hankie into my palm. “Take this and let it all out. I won't be far away if you need me.” The Doctor retreated to the corner of the med bay, out of my line of sight.
I stopped trying to hold the tears back and I'm not sure how long I laid there as sob after sob wracked my body. I knew the Doctor was watching, but I didn't care. Let him see me cry. Let him understand just how upset I was at being kept there against my will.
There came a point when I didn't seem to have any tears left. I wiped my eyes with the hanky and blew my nose, finally going quiet. The Doctor came back over and squatted down again. “There now. That's done. Would you care for a dry pillow? Yours seems a bit soggy.”
Well, it was pretty wet. I struggled to sit up, stiff joints and bruised muscles protesting. I dropped my head into my hands as the Doctor switched the pillows out and told me to get some more rest. He left the room, saying he'd check on me again in a few hours. I felt physically exhausted, but my brain wouldn't shut off.
Eventually, I shoved the covers back and slid off the bed. I nearly collapsed right there as the room spun and my knees wobbled, but I managed to stagger across the room to my bag that was sitting on the counter. If I could just find my mobile, I could call for help. Screw what he said about me not contacting the police. I was in trouble. I dug through my bag, but my mobile was nowhere to be found. I remembered that I'd shoved it into my pocket. Had it fallen out and was still by the stream? I'd eventually be reported missing and someone would find my phone. They'd search the park and find the TARDIS. I'd be rescued!
That small hope was all I had. Seeing that my journal and pen were still in the bag, I grabbed them and returned to bed, where I started writing this entry.
Will I ever see home again?
Author: Hezikiah
Disclaimer: Not mine, it's theirs. *points in the direction of the UK*
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairings: Donna, Shaun, Ten, OC Dr. Ella Porter
Warnings: No warnings. Well, this story has to do with Ten being a creepy stalker, but it all turns out ok. Not as dark as it seems.
Summary: When Donna and Shaun's neighbor notices a strange man hanging around outside their house, her world begins to turn upside down...
Author's note: This story is written in the style of an epistolary story. I've wanted to try my hand at applying this style to fanfiction and this seemed perfect. Just for giggles, I threw in some crappy rendered sketches since the character is an artist and it makes it seem more like an actual journal and sketchbook. I wanted to try something a little different this go around.
A/N 2: Also, this satisfies my need to whump someone.
Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter 7
Selected entries from the personal journal and sketchbook of Dr. Ella Porter, Professor of Art History and amateur artist.
February 1, 2011
The town home next door has finally been sold! It will be nice to have new neighbors and not an empty old house.
Weather's turned awful again. When is it ever going to stop snowing? I can't wait to get back to California when my contract at the university ends. England is lovely, but I miss the sunshine. Two more years to go!
February 15, 2011
The new family moved in today, looks like a nice couple. I saw the moving van as I was slogging through the sleet this evening from the Tube stop. The wife has got the most brilliant ginger hair I've ever seen. I always wanted to be a redhead, but was fated to walk the earth as a boring old brunette. Oh well. The husband is black with a sweet smile.
I introduced myself. Their names are Donna and Shaun Temple-Noble. On impulse, I invited them over for tea sometime and then almost stuck my foot in my mouth. I've never actually had anyone over for tea, especially posh people! The only reason I can afford to live in this neighborhood is because the university owns the house and it's free. Otherwise, all I'd be able to afford is a bunk bed in an attic with my students. Oh well, let's hope I buy the right kind of scones. I think that's what you eat for tea? Time to ask Professor Google.
February 25, 2011
Donna and Shaun came over for tea this afternoon. They're both a lot more down-to-earth than I realized and not like most of the snots around here. Donna told me they've been married for less than a year and they won the lottery, which accounts for buying the town home. Donna rather shyly told me that she's also about eight weeks pregnant with their first baby, which was a surprise because she assumed she was too old to have children. She can't be more than 40, so I'm not that shocked, but I congratulated them profusely. They seem very excited about the prospect of starting a family and it will be nice to have more children in the neighborhood.
They were impressed with some of the artwork I had on display and I asked permission to sketch them, to which they agreed.
Shaun
Donna
Such a nice couple. I have a feeling that we're going to be good friends.
Something's a little strange about Donna, though. She seems to be a little...vague? Spacy? I can't quite find the right word for it. It's like she's not quite all there, but I don't mean intelligence-wise. I get the impression that she's smart. I don't know. Maybe it's just me, or it's just her pregnancy hormones. They blame everything on hormones these days, so who really knows?
Feb. 28, 2011
I saw the weirdest thing today and I mean weird. I was puttering about in the park across the street, looking for some squirrels to sketch. English squirrels are so damn cute. It's still snowing, for cripes sake, so it might be too early for squirrels, but I didn't care. Anyway, there I was, blundering off the path in the forested section of the park, when I saw this giant blue “police” box just parked there in the glade.
What the hell is a police box? Professor Google to the rescue! I guess the cops used them back in the old days to call for help and as a temporary prison. But...those things were supposed to be on streets, not in the middle of the woods.
Also, I've been to that glade a million times before and I've never seen anything like that box. The squirrels weren't around, so I pulled out this journal and sketched it.
Freaky blue box in the woods!
Here's the weird thing. As I finished the drawing, the door of the box opened and a man in a blue suit stuck his head out. He looked right at me and seemed genuinely shocked to see me standing there. He had a sort of manic look in his eyes and I was terrified that he was a nutter, so I dashed off. The dude had sideburns. Sideburns! Who the heck wears sideburns these days except for Elvis impersonators and hipsters?
And I thought LA was weird...
March 1, 2011
Say hello to the klutz, that's me! Effing ice storm last night. I slipped on an icy patch on the front steps and fell. Shaun heard me yelling and found me sprawled on the sidewalk. He was kind enough to drive me to A&E, where I was told I'd sprained my ankle and was sent to bed for two weeks with a set of crutches. So, I'm on bed rest. Donna came over bearing tea and sympathy. We wound up watching telly and making fun of Gordon Ramsey. I won't repeat the things she called him, for propriety's sake. Donna's an absolute riot and I'm glad she moved next door. Things will be less lonely around here!
I've chosen to convalesce on the sofa in my upstairs office, since it overlooks the street and gives me something to look at. And I had plenty to look at. After Donna went home, I noticed the guy in the blue suit from the woods standing across the street staring at her house. Except this time, he was wearing a long brown duster coat (thinks he's a cowboy, maybe?). Anyway, he gave me the creeps big time. I'm not sure why, but I decided to sketch him.
Wonder what he's doing there?
As I finished drawing, his eyes flickered up to my house and I'm pretty sure he saw me staring at him. His eyes narrowed and I had to lean back from the sofa to hide. Brr.
March 2, 2011
The creeper was back today, but this time he was wearing a brown pinstripe suit. I'm calling him Mr. Pinstripes. I couldn't help but watch him. I'm not a nosybody, not at all. Let people go about their business, but I really don't like the way he stares at Donna and Shaun's house. Who is this guy?
March 3, 2011
Day Three and he's still there. I'm starting to feel like a stalker now with this weird obsession to look out for the creeper on the street. Ha! I'm stalking a stalker!
I need to get a life...just as soon as this stupid ankle decides to heal. Oh well, time for telly and Jammie Dodgers!
March 6, 2011
I'm frightened for Donna. I should really tell her or maybe even Shaun about this guy. I can't believe they haven't noticed him. Every time they leave the house, he steps into the park. Why haven't they seen him?! I have to tell them, just as soon as I can get out of this stupid house. Damn, I wish that we'd thought to exchange mobile numbers! Maybe she knows him, maybe not. I don't know if I should go to the police. I mean, technically he's not breaking any laws, is he? It's not against the law to just stand on the sidewalk. But still, this doesn't feel right! I'm really starting to become frightened of this whole affair. I have to tell Donna and Shaun. I'd never forgive myself if that man did something awful to them and I could have prevented it.
March 7, 2011
Oh god, I just don't know what to do! And now he's looking at me! Mr. Pinstripes was standing in front of my house this morning, just looking up at my window. MY HOUSE!!!! I only saw him for a second, but it was enough for me to sketch him. I have to tell the cops or something. Hopefully, my ankle will be well enough for me to leave the house soon. I haven't gone near the office window all day and I've kept the front curtains closed. I'm too scared to look outside.
Mr. Pinstripes creeping about outside my house and staring at my window.
March 10, 2011 (maybe?!)
I'm trying to remain calm as I write this. I'm not sure if I've been kidnapped or not...if I have, the kidnapper in question is very cordial and polite and seems unhappy whenever I start to cry. Mr. Pinstripes says that I'm not being held against my will and that I'm free to go as soon as I hear him out. Wait, that's not really his name. I can't help but think of him that way. He calls himself the Doctor...oh, but I'm rambling. I guess I'm just trying to process all of this and I thought writing in my journal would help. I should really back up.
So I was on my way through the park to the shops. Like I'd feared, I wasn't quite ready for the trip and my ankle started hurting. I decided to sit down on a bench and rest. I saw some cute squirrels in a tree and pulled out my journal to sketch them. After a few minutes, I happened to look up and saw Mr. Pinstripes striding towards me. I guess he was about 16 or 17 yards away.
There was something about his bearing, like he had a purpose for approaching me and I got a horrible feeling of foreboding. You see, I was alone in the park. There was no one else around, and I had the overwhelming urge to run. I shoved the journal into my shopping bag, bolted off the bench, and raced down the path adjacent to the stream that runs through the park. I could see the rooftops of the shops just over the treeline. Just around the bend of the path was the park gate and safety, if I could only reach it in time. My ankle throbbed with stabbing pain, but I ignored it as I slipped and slid down the trail, muddy from the melting snow.
I shouldn't have glanced over my shoulder. I should have just kept going, but I was so scared. I'd never felt such a desperate need to run, like I was being hunted. All I wanted was to get away, get to the police. Mr. Pinstripes was trouble, I just knew it. But, I looked back and saw he had easily gained on me and was about 5 yards behind me. He yelled at me to stop. Yeah, right!
But who was I kidding? Mr. Pinstripes is built like a runner. There was no way I was going to escape him, but I sure was going to try. I felt a surge of adrenaline as I stepped down into a washed out part of the trail and suddenly lost my balance. I remember screaming as I tumbled backwards into space. The stream is a ten foot drop below the bank. I know I landed on my back in the water because I heard the splash and instantly went numb from the freezing water. At the same time, the back of my head connected with a sharp rock and I heard a cracking sound as white-hot pain disrupted my vision. I heard a shout and through the fog that covered my eyes, I saw him looking down at me from the bank above, an expression of shock and dismay on his face. He yelled something at me and looked around for a way down to the stream, but at that point I blacked out.
I don't know how long I was out, but it must have been several hours. Opening my eyes, I discovered that I was lying on a soft bed and was covered with a thin blanket. The lights were a bit dim, but I could make out gleaming white cabinets and unfamiliar, almost alien equipment against the walls. It didn't look like a hospital room, so I decided I must still be in A&E. I found that thought comforting. If I was in hospital, then I was safe from Mr. Pinstripes. An instant wave of relief washed over me.
I remember being surprised that neither my head or my ankle hurt much after the accident. I figured the doctors must have given me a powerful pain reliever and I was perfectly happy with that. A male voice said, “Oh good, you're awake.” There was a movement out of the corner of my eye and a blinding light suddenly filled my field of vision. I groaned in protest and squeezed my eyes shut. “Oops, sorry! Should have warned you about that!” the voice continued. “Can you open your eyes for me? I need to check your pupils.”
I forced my eyes open and looked into the light, which obscured the face of the doctor. The light clicked off after a moment and I shut them again. My hands reached up and scrubbed at my eyes, trying to rub away the pinpoints that burned and danced in the dark.
The doctor started babbling. “Hmm...your pupils aren't contracting evenly, so that means you've got a concussion. But, still, things could be worse after that tumble you took. How do you feel, Dr. Porter?”
I felt really weird, like I was doped up on something. It was hard to think straight and I attributed it to the medication. “Loopy. What did you give me?” My voice was scratchy and rough, like it is after you just wake up.
“Nothing.”
“Really?” I was surprised at that.
“Yes. You're probably feeling disoriented from the concussion. You cracked the back of your head open on that rock, but I patched you up. That, and your ankle. You'd sprained it again. Also, some minor contusions. Oh! And bruised ribs. Nothing much I can do about that, unfortunately. They should heal up in a few days, but you're going to be a bit sore.” There was a pause as I heard him take a deep breath before he continued his babbling. “I am so sorry this happened to you, Dr. Porter. I really am.”
I was confused at the contrite tone in his voice. “Why...why are you sorry?”
“Because this is all my fault. Stupid doctor that I am, if I had thought through how to approach you, in a crowded street for instance, then you wouldn't have run away from me and you wouldn't have fallen into the stream and done yourself a mischief.”
An icy chill ran down my spine at his words. My eyes flew open and I shot upright at the same time, crying out in alarm when I saw who it was. Mr. Pinstripes was standing there! The world swam and I felt a rising wave of nausea that rivaled the panic that filled me. A dull, aching pain shot through my ribcage, but I ignored it as my eyes darted around, looking for a means of escape. I could see a doorway on the far side of the room, but even in my weakened state, I knew that I didn't have the strength to make it that far.
“Dr. Porter, it's ok. You're safe. Just lie down. That's it...” Strong hands touched my shoulders and tried to guide me back down onto the bed. My fight-or-flight instinct instantly took over and I shrieked and lashed out at him. He grabbed my wrists to prevent me from hitting him. “Sssh. Sssh. I'm not going to hurt you. I'm not. Please, just calm down now.” There was something hypnotically soothing about his soft voice and, as much as I didn't want to listen, I could feel my will to resist him start to wane. I fought it off, though. I certainly was not safe! Not at all! I struggled against his powerful hands that had managed to press me down to the mattress, pinning me by the wrists. I know now that he was only trying to protect himself and me from getting hurt, but being held down frightened me further and I kicked and screamed, thrashing my body around to try and get out of his grip.
His voice remained calm, but there was a hint of resolution in it now. “Dr. Porter, Eloise. Please. You've got a concussion, you're confused, and you're scared. I understand and I'm sorry. I really don't want to sedate you because that will only make this situation worse, but I will if you can't calm down. I won't have you hurting yourself further.”
The threat of sedation was what broke through my addled brain. The very idea of being unconscious while under Mr. Pinstripes' imprisonment was enough to still my flailing limbs and silence my screams. I fought back against the nausea, feeling like I was going to throw up. The world swam in irritating circles and I felt terrible. My exertions had exhausted me and all I could do was take a few deep, shuddering breaths as I summoned the courage to look into the face of my captor. His eyes were huge and earnest, a deep chocolate brown, and held no malice. All I saw in his eyes was concern. Mr. Pinstripes' grip on my wrists eased up, but he didn't take his hands off me. "That's better."
We stared at each other for a long moment before helpless tears began trickling down my cheeks and I started sobbing. I had no idea what he was going to do to me and I was the most frightened I'd ever been in my whole life.
A sad and distressed look crossed his face when he saw me weeping and that surprised me. “Aw, there's no need to cry. Like I said, you're safe here. Please don't cry, Dr. Porter. I'm not going to hurt you.” His voice was quiet and gentle.
I couldn't stop the tears, though. I was too terrified. “Who...who are you?”
He smiled kindly at me. “I'm the Doctor.”
I swallowed once to calm my throat, which was sore from screaming. “I can see that. Doctor who?”
“Just the Doctor.” His hands let go of me and he stood up straight, trusting that I wouldn't panic.
I had kicked the blanket to the end of the bed and he pulled it back over me. “How do you know my name? And why have you been watching Donna and Shaun's house? And mine? And why didn't you take me to A&E?” My voice rose in pitch as I started to involuntarily shake in fright. I clutched at the blanket, needing something to hold on to. “Where am I? Where have you brought me? This isn't a hospital, is it?”
His hands covered mine and he squeezed them lightly. I could tell he was trying to keep me calm. “Your name is on your mailbox. I've been watching Donna and Shaun Temple-Noble's house and yours for reasons that I'll happily divulge once you've rested and recovered, because it would take too long to explain now. As for A&E, the TARDIS was closer and well...I couldn't have you reporting me to the police. That's where you are right now, in the medical bay of my ship. It's called the TARDIS.”
“Ship?” That made no sense. We were too far from the river or the seaside for him to have carried me to a ship.
“I'll tell you all about it when you've rested, I promise. I think you should try to sleep now.”
Sleeping was the last thing I wanted to do. I shook my head. Despite his soothing words and quiet manner, I didn't feel any safer. "I want to go home." I knew I sounded like a small child then, but I didn't really care. It was the truth. I was still crying silently and I swiped at my wet cheeks in a futile gesture to stop my tears.
"I know, but your injuries are too severe for you to be left alone, Dr. Porter. You're under my care for the time being.” The Doctor reached into his pocket and pulled out a hankie, which he used to gently wipe my face. “There now, no more tears. There's nothing to be afraid of." I didn't understand why he was being so kind, especially after over a week of standing outside my house and frightening the tarnation out of me. “Eloise...may I call you Eloise? Or do you prefer Dr. Porter?”
“No one calls me Eloise, except for my mother. And only my students and colleagues call me Dr. Porter. I go by Ella.”
“Ella, then. You're going to be fine. You just need some time to heal.”
“And then what?” I was scared to ask the question, but I had to know. “I'm your prisoner.”
A look of pure shock crossed the Doctor's face and he stepped back in alarm. “Is that what you really think?” he snapped. “That I've taken you prisoner, Ella?”
I was surprised by his vehemence and it scared me even more. “You...you said you couldn't have me telling the police! Why else would you have brought me here, if not for keeping me from the authorities? You've been stalking my house, stalking my neighbors for reasons I don't know...”
“And I said I would explain, once you've rested and are more coherent,” he interrupted me. “But one thing is certain: you are not my prisoner. You are free to go once you're stable enough to leave and you've heard me out. Agreed?”
What else was I supposed to do? I was tired and felt defenseless and vulnerable. “I...guess so,” I conceded.
A smile lit up his face. “Great! I'm glad that we've come to an understanding.” He stepped closer to the bed and I tried not to shrink back from him. “Now, are you in pain?”
My confused hysterical fit had caused my ribs to hurt and my head to start pounding. I nodded.
“Well, we'll just have to do something about that. Can't have you in pain, can we? Will you let me help you to sit up?” I hesitated and then nodded again. I wasn't too sure what to make of the pinstriped doctor who'd decided that I was going to be his patient whether I liked it or not.. But, he seemed pleased that I'd agreed and he slid an arm underneath my shoulders, pulling me upwards. The Doctor propped a few pillows behind my back so that I was sitting up at an angle. “There you go.”
Sitting up was a huge mistake. I wasn't ready yet. My ribcage throbbed and ached and I wrapped my arms tight around my middle, unable to suppress a groan. I had never been in so much pain in my life. Suddenly, I realized something was amiss. I was naked under the dark blue, short sleeved hospital gown that I'd been dressed in. “Doctor, where...? My clothes...” I turned bright red as mortification filled me.
He shifted his weight from one foot to the other and looked chagrined. “It was necessary to take them off of you. You were wet and muddy from falling into the stream and it was freezing out there. I had to to prevent hypothermia from setting in, but don't worry! I worked very fast, I didn't peek, and I kept you covered up as much as possible.” I believed him for some reason, and his obvious embarrassment was genuine. He cleared his throat and turned around to rummage in a cabinet. “Anyway, I've got just the thing here to take care of that pain. Works a right treat.”
Well, of course it had been necessary, but I still felt a bit flustered knowing he'd seen me without my clothes on. I was just glad that I'd been unconscious because I think facing him would have been more awkward if I'd remembered. I didn't want to wear the strange gown and feel like a patient, if that makes any sense, even though it wasn't revealing at all. I was completely covered, thanks to the wraparound design. “May I have my clothes back now?”
He shook his head. “They're all but ruined.” The Doctor removed a vial out of a cabinet, but I couldn't really see what he was doing as his back was to me. “Not to worry, though. I've got plenty of clothing you can wear once you're well enough to leave the medical bay.”
“Oh.” I took the opportunity to look around the room some more. It wasn't very large, but I could see three other examination beds besides my own separated by opaque blue curtains that could be pulled to offer privacy. They were all open, though. The opposite walls were filled with cabinets and shelves that held strange instruments and machinery. I turned, whimpering as pain thudded through my ribs, and saw a monitor on the wall behind me. It seemed to be displaying my vital signs. I realized that I didn't recognize any of the technology. It was all futuristic and unfamiliar. I've never liked hospitals in the first place and not understanding what everything was used for scared me. Another wave of apprehension filled me and I tried not to start crying again. Really, I'm not that weepy! I blamed it on the concussion and was furious with myself for not being able to control my emotions. “I don't know what any of this stuff is used for,” I said to the Doctor's back.
He chuckled. “I don't expect you would. You're a doctor, but not a medical doctor, and most of it's from the future and not from your world.”
How did he know I wasn't a medical doctor? And the future? Other worlds? I shook my head in confusion and instantly regretted doing that because it intensified the pain in my head. “You're not making any sense, Doctor.”
“It will all make perfect sense...in time.” He turned and came back over to me carrying a cylindrical object about the size of a ballpoint pen. Before I knew what was happening, he pushed up the sleeve of my gown and placed the object against my bicep, pressing a button on the end. It didn't hurt, but I yelped and jerked as a cold sensation shot through my arm. The pain in my ribs and my head instantly evaporated. A sigh of relief escaped me and I relaxed. The Doctor smiled as he put what I'd guessed was a futuristic hypodermic needle back on the counter. “Better?”
“Yes.” I hesitated. “Thanks.”
“You're welcome, Ella. Are you thirsty?”
I realized I was parched and my throat was dry. When I nodded, he opened another cabinet and pulled out a white bottle. He twisted the top off and handed it to me. I stared at the bottle and then looked at him. “What is this?”
He quirked an eyebrow. “Just water. Good old H20. Now drink up.” I hesitated and I saw the Doctor suppress a sigh. He took the bottle from me and took a long swig from it. “See? You can trust me. I'm not trying to drug or poison you.” In a flash, he pulled a colorful crazy straw from his pocket and stuck it into the bottle before giving it back to me. “Everything's better with a silly straw, isn't it? Even water!”
This time I did laugh. It was so unexpected and ridiculous that I couldn't help it. He smirked at the sound of my laughter and I saw a flash of relief cross his face as I tried the drink. It was water and I slurped it down, thirstier than I'd realized. Before I knew it, I'd finished and I wanted to ask for more, but I was afraid I might get sick if I did. My stomach felt queasy and I asked to lie back down. The Doctor removed the extra pillows and tugged the blanket back over me as I curled up on my side and shut my eyes, giving in to the exhaustion that I'd been fighting for the last several minutes.
I woke up several hours later and I guessed it was the middle of the night. The Doctor wasn't around. I'd hoped that it had all been some sort of dream, but I could see that it hadn't. I rolled onto my back and groaned aloud because it was sore and felt swollen. I hadn't felt that way earlier and I shifted back onto my side to ease the discomfort. I couldn't go back to sleep and I regarded the alien medical bay, feeling anxious and full of apprehension. The Doctor must have dimmed the lights when he'd left and the only illumination came from dim hexagon-shaped sconces in the walls and the wall monitor above my bed, which made a low and steady thrumming noise. I assumed it was in time to my pulse. Everything was in darkness and shadows.
I wanted to be anywhere else but in that strange, frightening place and I clutched at the blanket as a sudden wave of homesickness washed over me. Tears began trickling down my cheeks and I buried my face in the pillow to stifle an unwilling sob that bubbled up out of nowhere. Once I got started crying, I couldn't stop no matter how hard I tried. I knew that weeping wouldn't do me any good, but it didn't matter. I had never felt so alone and frightened in my life.
I'm not very religious, but I found myself praying to God that I would find a way to get out of there. If I wasn't the Doctor's prisoner (and I still very much felt that I was), I was a prisoner to my own body. I didn't know the extent of my injuries and I was too weak to try to attempt to escape, though I sorely wished I could.
There were footsteps in the corridor outside and I held my breath to stop my sobbing. My shoulders still shook from the force of my tears, though. I didn't want him to see me crying again. I'd read somewhere that you should never show weakness in the face of your enemy. The doors swooshed open and the Doctor poked his head inside. “Ella?”
I didn't answer, just sniffled as I held in my tears. He stepped inside the room and I squeezed my eyes shut as I heard him approach my bed. “What's the matter? Are you in pain? Those meds should last a few more hours...”
I shook my head, not trusting my voice, and kept sniffling. “Then why are you crying?”
It took me a minute to calm down enough to answer him. “I...I don't want to be here.” I intended it to be quiet, but it came out as more of a soft wail. I didn't add that I was terrified and I wanted to go home. He already knew that.
The Doctor was silent for a moment. “I can't take you to hospital and I won't leave you alone considering the state you're in, you have to understand that. Bringing you here was the best option, for everyone.” I opened my eyes and looked up at him. There was an expression of sadness on his face, and what I guessed was frustration. “I'm sorry, I really am. I don't like to see you upset and crying. I know that this situation is difficult, but you have to realize that it involves more than just you. You absolutely cannot leave the TARDIS right now, Ella Porter.”
Those weren't the words that I wanted to hear and I'm pretty sure he knew that. The feeling that I really was his prisoner came back and dread washed over me. Fresh tears welled up and his face fell when he saw them dripping down my cheeks. “Oh, blimey...” He took a deep breath and squatted down so that he was at eye level with me before reaching into his pocket and pulling out his hanky. I let out another sob as he dabbed at my face for the second time that day. “I know this is hard, so very hard for you. You don't handle sudden changes well, I can tell. Please believe me when I say that everything is going to be all right, Ella.”
I didn't believe him and I hiccuped through another burst of tears. “I don't think anything I say is going to help, but a good, long cry can be quite cathartic.” He pressed the hankie into my palm. “Take this and let it all out. I won't be far away if you need me.” The Doctor retreated to the corner of the med bay, out of my line of sight.
I stopped trying to hold the tears back and I'm not sure how long I laid there as sob after sob wracked my body. I knew the Doctor was watching, but I didn't care. Let him see me cry. Let him understand just how upset I was at being kept there against my will.
There came a point when I didn't seem to have any tears left. I wiped my eyes with the hanky and blew my nose, finally going quiet. The Doctor came back over and squatted down again. “There now. That's done. Would you care for a dry pillow? Yours seems a bit soggy.”
Well, it was pretty wet. I struggled to sit up, stiff joints and bruised muscles protesting. I dropped my head into my hands as the Doctor switched the pillows out and told me to get some more rest. He left the room, saying he'd check on me again in a few hours. I felt physically exhausted, but my brain wouldn't shut off.
Eventually, I shoved the covers back and slid off the bed. I nearly collapsed right there as the room spun and my knees wobbled, but I managed to stagger across the room to my bag that was sitting on the counter. If I could just find my mobile, I could call for help. Screw what he said about me not contacting the police. I was in trouble. I dug through my bag, but my mobile was nowhere to be found. I remembered that I'd shoved it into my pocket. Had it fallen out and was still by the stream? I'd eventually be reported missing and someone would find my phone. They'd search the park and find the TARDIS. I'd be rescued!
That small hope was all I had. Seeing that my journal and pen were still in the bag, I grabbed them and returned to bed, where I started writing this entry.
Will I ever see home again?