I come out of black to find myself on my back, unable to move, white tiled ceiling swimming sickly in and out of focus. Where I am I can't remember, or who I am. There must be a name attached to me, I feel, but it doesn't surface. Bony-cold hands move over my arms, releasing straps I forgot held me. A woman's face appears above me, smiling and surrounded by a mass of curly hair. "Someone here to see you, Oswin." She takes me by one arm and helps me off of the bed. My limbs shake like jelly and a second nurse quickly jumps to steady me.
They lead me through sterile hallways and through cold metal doors. I can't foresee the next turn or remember the names of the nurses, but something familiar whispers to me, and every breath calls up déjà vu.
We stop in the middle of a waiting room, surrounded by mostly-empty chairs. The first woman gestures at a gangly figure who flounders in a chair as if he's forgotten how to sit. "This is The Doctor," she announces.
The man hops up and rubs his hands together, an energetic grin spreading across his face. He is young and dressed like the black-and-white-picture men from the picture son the wall, with a folded collar and a chequed bowtie under a poorly-fitted tweed jacket.
"Hello, Clara," he says.
"Oswin."
A dark memory flickers across his face. "Of course. Oswin." He quickly recovers his smile. "Do you remember me, Oswin?"
I say nothing—I have just realized that the nurses gone. We are alone.
"Oh, Oswin, Oswin, Oswin," he murmurs, tugging my chin up so our eyes meet. "Sorry about this."
I don't know what he means and I have no time to wonder. He grabs my head and slams my forehead against his, and suddenly my head is filled with rushing, coursing brilliance, as if a door has been yanked open in the back of my skull and all the sun is pouring through. The rushing feels like constant eternity, but it is only seconds because in a click Oswin Oswald and The Doctor are back in the waiting room of a mental hospital on Atalka II, holding each other and gasping for air.
When I can breathe again The Doctor grabs my hand and pulls me towards the front door.
The sunlight hits me like an aftershock of the memory rush and I stumble on the steps. My head aches ferociously, but I know I am Oswin Oswald now, and bruises on my knees can't shatter my joy. The Doctor yanks me to my feet, grinning as widely as I am, and guides me down the last steps.
Around the corner, a dark haired girl in a blue dress jumps as if I'm a weeping angel and dodges into an old-fashioned police box.
"Doctor, is she scared of me?" I say.
"No, Oswin. Not yet."