| Date: 5 January 2008
Characters: The Eighth Doctor, Susan Foreman Location: outside, hotel lobby, rooms Link to IJ: thread #24136 |
 This, admittedly, was not what he'd been expecting when he battered down the metal door. He wasn't entirely sure what he'd been expecting, but he knew that it wasn't a town.
Vaguely, he thought he might have been expecting a hospital, although he couldn't quite remember why. And that was the problem, wasn't it? he mused, wandering over to a bench and sitting down, absently leaning down to scratch at his foot. It felt like something had got caught around his big toe. He couldn't remember why he was expecting a hospital, he couldn't remember why he felt as though his hair was just slightly wrong, and he really couldn't remember why he was wandering around in a blanket. Perhaps someone else would know why? Or perhaps it would come to him if he waited. Whatever the outcome, it wasn't as though he could do anything but wait, at the moment. And rest, as his chest still hurt for some reason that, yet again, he couldn't remember. |
 Susan glanced up from where she'd been sitting, book in hand, and just stared. Was that man not clothed? Granted, the lost expression was a given here, but people usually came with clothing.
"Are you all right?" Susan called, raising a hand to wave at him. "Need a hand?" |
| He looked up, blinking at her, and gave a bit of a laugh.
"Hello. This is dreadfully embarrassing, but I appear to have lost my memory." Blunt was often best in these cases, after all. |
| Oh, dear. That was just horrid, compounded on top of the whole falling out of time thing. They wouldn't even know where he properly belonged in the larger scheme of things.
Setting her book down, Susan stood and walked over to him, blinking a bit since as she got closer, there was a definite vibe that was coming off of him that made her curious. He felt...familiar. "Are you all right other than that?" Susan asked, reaching out to take his arm and guide him back over to the bench she had been sitting on. "Anything hurt? Are you injured in any way?" |
| "I have the oddest sensation in my chest," he told her, frowning a little. "And I appear to have picked up a toe-tag from somewhere. Other than that, I don't appear to be damaged." |
| Toe tag? One didn't just...pick up a toe tag. Susan gently helped him sit on the bench as she knelt to take a look at this toe tag that he'd apparently picked up. "What sort of sensation?" She asked. "Is it painful? Burning, itching, twitching, or something other than that?" |
| "...stabbing," he said thoughtfully, sitting down obediently. "Quite painful, really," he added calmly, looking down at his foot.
The toe tag identified him as John Doe, and stated his time of death and the apparent cause -- massive heard failure. He was, apparently, due for an autopsy in the morning. |
| Oh, dear. That was...worrying. Though, it explained the familiar feeling.
Standing, Susan reached out and gently settled a hand to his shoulder, "Forgive me if I'm being unusually forward," She said, leaning down and pressing her ear to his chest. There had to be something obstructing his hearts. It was hard to say just what humans doctors would do when faced with a binary cardiovascular system. |
| He shifted the blanket out of her way, blinking down at her.
"Should I be saying 'aah'?" |
| "Not unless I decide to look down your throat," Susan said, frowning as she heard the two heartbeats in a halting way, them struggling a bit to get past...something. Now, this was a dilemma. How was she going to figure out what that thing was and then...get to it?
Bugger. She was no doctor. And since he had no idea who he was, she doubted asking him to stop the heart that had the obstruction in it would do them any good. |
| Something shifted inside, and he bit back a cry of pain, automatically doubling over a little.
"There's something inside me, isn't there?" |
| "That's what it seems like, yes," Susan said, frowning as she shifted and took his arm, holding onto him to make sure he didn't fall off the bench. |
| His hands explored his own skin, and he found an odd, painful little bump under the skin on his right side that didn't feel as though it out to be there.
"I don't suppose you have anything sharp?" |
| Susan wasn't the type to carry about a knife. Grandfather had always been the one with pockets full of almost everything that they needed. Frowning softly to herself, Susan shook her head slowly, "Not on me, no. But I'm sure we can find something somewhere," She said, moving to help him stand. "And maybe get you some clothes in the process?" |
| "I do look a bit silly wandering around in a blanket, don't I?" he said equably, standing up carefully and trying not to move his upper body too much. |
| "Just a bit," Susan said, offering him a soft smile. "If we can find Grandfather, he'll be able to help. He's got more clothes than he knows what to do with. Honestly." |
| He frowned, blinking at her.
"Won't he get annoyed if we take his things?" |
| "Oh, no. Not at all," Susan said with a grin. "He doesn't mind lending them out, especially if someone really needs them. He really has more than he needs, anyway." |
| "Well, I'd appreciate it," he said, with a vague smile. "I don't know whether or not I'm the sort of person to habitually wear nothing but blankets, but at the moment I'd quite like something more substantial." |
| "If it feels wrong, it usually means that it is," Susan said as she guided him into the hotel lobby. She wasn't really positive just where her Grandfather had left the TARDIS, especially since he had said something about trying to leave and bringing her from one end of the town to another. That might just end in them going round and round in circles for awhile.
"You look around here for something to help...solve that problem," Susan said, frowning a bit as she glanced at his chest. "And I'll dash upstairs to see if I can find something more suitable than that blanket for now. Even if its just a pair of pajamas." |
| Pajamas would, at least, be easier to keep on than a blanket, he reasoned, watching her head upstairs and starting to look around the lobby.
The sharpest thing he could find was a nail file. He spent a few minutes cleaning it in a little fountain, just to be sure, before locating that odd bump under his skin and pressing the sharp end of the nail file to his skin, attempting to saw through to the thing under it. |
| Susan shifted through the rooms until she found one that looked unoccupied. She knew that in hers, there had been several necessary things provided, a bit more than one would find in a normal hotel, even. And as she rummaged through the drawers, she was able to produce a pair of pajamas that looked...reasonably the right size. Maybe a bit big, but that could always be corrected with a few knots. |
| Downstairs, he'd managed to reveal the end of a length of some sort of wire, and was very carefully, very slowly extracting it; the way his chest felt, it was near his heart, and he didn't want to take any chances.
It hurt like blazes, of course, and he was fairly sure his lip was going to be as bloody as his fingers by the time he was done, but at least it would be out. |
| Susan slipped back downstairs, pajamas in hand. She paused on the stairs when she saw what he was doing. Oh, dear... That neither looked safe nor comfortable. But at least he seemed to be managing.
He'd definitely need something to patch over that wound, though. |
| He finished removing the wire, giving it a look that was equal parts confused and disgusted, and set it down beside him, pressing a hand hard over the wound.
He looked up and spotted the young woman who'd been so helpful, and gave her a bit of a wave with the hand that wasn't getting steadily more gory. "Hello! I found the problem, I had all this primitive wiring in my cardiovascular system. What do you suppose that was doing there?" |
| "Probably wiring off of a cardiac probe," Susan said with a soft frown. "Human doctors and their instruments. You'd think they'd know to leave well enough alone," She said, settling the pajamas down on the table as she crossed to the bar and popped back up after a moment with a bottle of gin, a clean dishrag, and some scotch tape.
"It's haphazard, maybe, but it should work for now," She said, soaking the rag in the alcohol before wringing out the extra and crossing over to him, pressing the cloth over the wound that was in his chest. |
| "I get the oddest feeling that I heal quickly," he mused, letting her work. "That stings a bit, doesn't it?" |
| "It would, yes," Susan said as she taped the rag in place. "But it will keep everything in place while the skin has the opportunity to heal over. You shouldn't need it too awful long," She said, smiling up at him.
"Now, there's bathrooms upstairs, if you want to go get cleaned up and changed." |
| "That," he said, getting to his feet, "would be delightful. Thank you, my dear." |
| "I'll be waiting down here whenever you're ready," Susan said, touching his arm lightly, reassuring, as she smiled up at him. |
| It took him a little longer than normal -- his fingers had to be cleaned off, and he had to be careful of the healing wound on his chest, but he eventually wandered back downstairs, the blanket folded over one arm.
"Did you ever tell me your name?" |
| "Oh! No, I don't think I ever did," Susan said, blushing a bit. "I'm Susan. Susan Foreman," She said, extending a hand toward him. "I'm not usually so rude. I suppose it just didn't seem that important at the time." |
| "In the grand scheme of things, a name was a bit less important than clothing and getting rid of that horrible wiring," he agreed, shaking her hand. "Thank you for the pajamas, Susan Foreman."
Susan Foreman. He frowned, shaking his head sharply, and said carefully, "We haven't met before, have we?" |
| "That's a difficult question to answer," Susan said, smiling softly up at him. "I don't recognize you, but that hardly means much in the larger scheme of things." |
| He shook his head again, trying to find something in the dizzying fog that was his memory.
"It feels as though you ought to be very important to me. The name Susan Foreman is an important one." |
| Well. That was certainly surprising. There weren't many people that Susan could contemplating actually being important to. Grandfather, her parents, a few of their friends...maybe. Susan shook off the thoughtful expression that had crossed her face before taking his arm again.
"I think perhaps we should find Grandfather. He might be able to help. He's a proper doctor." |