FIFTEEN
The Doctor scrambled to his feet quickly, dumping the machine unceremoniously at his Converse. He sped round Bronnin, who was doing her best not to cry.
He stumbled and slid through the dust on his knees up to Fergus, looking at his shirt and the small but catastrophic hole in his side.
"Mister Campbell!" he shouted angrily, slapping at the younger man's face. "No! No no no no no no no!" He sat back, dragging his hands through his hair helplessly. "Not you! No, Fergus, come on!" he begged, leaning over him and putting his hands on his shirt, taking in the hole and the steadily seeping blood.
"Fergus?" Bronnin said quietly, dashing water from her eyes irritably. "Fergus!" she called more sternly.
The Doctor leaned over and felt his neck for a pulse. He kept sliding his hand around, but try as he might, he could not locate one.
"No!" he shouted angrily, making Bronnin jump. "I will not let you die on me! Don't you dare!"
He leaned over him, putting his hands to his collar, then his shoulders, huffing helplessly.
"What do we do?" Bronnin whispered, dropping to her knees next to him.
"Mister Campbell!" he cried, then removed his hands from his shoulders, sitting back on his heels. He looked at his hands suddenly, then at Bronnin. He made a fist with his right hand and took a deep breath.
He thumped it down into Fergus's chest. Bronnin whimpered and grabbed his left arm to stop him. He shook her off carelessly.
He did it again. And again.
Fergus coughed and dragged in a breath.
Bronnin leaned over and grabbed his arm, yanking him off and stopping him.
"You've done it!" she blurted.
"Oh – bloody – hell," Fergus croaked.
"Mister Campbell!" the Doctor shouted joyfully. He grabbed his shirt, shaking him and laughing maniacally, his eyes nearly as wide as his mouth.
Bronnin pulled on his arm again.
"Careful!" she cried, and the Doctor let him go.
"You!" He erupted with anger abruptly. "What were you thinking? Just what the Skaro were you doing?" he shouted.
"Oh, hullo there," he said faintly, putting a hand up slowly. The Doctor grabbed it, squeezing his palm in his. "Ah just… Ah just couldnae face another one of yi so soon," he breathed painfully. "Ah've just got used tae this face o' yurs. Ah didnae want another one on ma watch. Not on ma watch, yi incompetent Time Lord."
"Time Lord…" Bronnin whispered, shocked.
"You…idiot!" the Doctor roared, and Bronnin jumped, tears starting in fright. "You stupid, brainless, vacuous – brainless – stupid human boy!" he accused.
"Yeah, Ah knoe, Ah think Ah shit maself too," he smiled, his face wan despite the sweat.
"You know I would have survived! You know it wouldn't have mattered! What were you doing? You've only got one life, Fergus, one! What could be so important? What could possibly make you do such a stupid, stupid thing like try to protect someone who regenerates anyway?" he demanded at full volume.
"Two things," he said quietly, and Bronnin got up quickly, running off into the darkness. "First: it doesnae matter… who needs help… yi just give it cos it's yurs tae give. You taught me that, yi pompous bastard." He breathed for a moment, coughing again. "Second: Ah owe you, man. Several times over."
The Doctor stared at him.
"I still think you're an idiot. And way too human to survive." He pouted for a long moment. "Come on. Get up."
"Ah've got a hole straight through me! Thir's at least two pints o' ma best blood on thi floor, pal, Ah'm no going anywhere." He let out a long, comfortable breath. "This is it, Ah've had enough o' this lark," he said bravely.
"Fergus, if you don't get up, I'm going to have to carry you. How else is Martha Jones going to be able to put you right?"
"Martha's here?"
"She's a TARDIS journey away."
"Yi really think she can-"
"Get – up!"
He rolled his head round, then swallowed and looked back at the Time Lord anxiously.
"Ah'm trying, it's just… ma legs arnae working so well," he admitted. The Doctor grabbed his arms, hauling him up and momentarily ignoring the fresh blood spilling out.
He heard the sound of running feet as he got him standing, supporting him and turning him round.
"We found a big blue box, but–" Kickick gasped, her hands to her face. "Oh! Fergus! What happened!" she demanded.
"We need to get back to that box," the Doctor said harshly, walking Fergus along the corridor. Kickick pulled Fergus's jacket tighter around her, following them as they shuffled along.
"Ah don't think–" Fergus began.
"That's right, you don't. Stop talking," the Time Lord snapped harshly, but the young son of Alba smiled, his head lolling onto the taller man's shoulder. He let himself be walked.
They reached the doors of the TARDIS and the Doctor looked down to see Bronnin. She was sat, knees up to her chin, arms round them, waiting.
She sprang up and grabbed Kickick's jacket without a word, fishing in the pockets. She found a key and looked at it.
"Is this–?"
"Yes," the Doctor interrupted, and she turned and rammed it into the lock, twisting it quickly and stepping in.
Kickick waited until the Doctor had walked Fergus inside. He gasped and cried out in pain as the Gallifreyan eased him up the ramp.
"Kickick! Shut the door! Lock it!" he shouted, supporting Fergus to the chairs. He felt him get lighter and realised Bronnin was helping under the man's other arm. "Bronnin, hold him," he snapped, letting go of Fergus and turning to the Time Rotor.
He yanked and twirled, pulled and adjusted, and the Time Rotor lethargically rose, the odd, iridescent blue-green light flooding the room quickly. It sped up and the decking began to shudder and groan as the Time Rotor sped up and down faster.
"What's happening?" Kickick demanded over the loud machine noise, running to her sister and helping her to hold Fergus up. "Fergus, don't," she snapped suddenly, slapping his face smartly.
"Thanks," he managed, against the will to let himself slip into unconsciousness.
"Right, help me get him round to his room," the Doctor said, grabbing Fergus and inserting himself between him and the two girls deftly.
They walked him round, the Doctor pushing his door open with his foot, the rumble and judder of the great ship causing them to stagger slightly as they made it across the open space to the bed.
They eased him down, lifting his legs onto the bed and straightening him out.
"Bloody hell, that hurts," he growled, and the Doctor looked at Kickick.
"Get some towels," he said urgently.
She turned and scoured the room, finding a door and hoping it was a bathroom. She ran over, leaving Bronnin to stand next to the bed, staring down.
"Will he be alright?" she whispered, her eyes large and round.
"Yes! We're on the way to a hospital and someone who can help him," he said harshly. "You watch him. I've got to see us in," he snapped, looking down at Fergus once before he hurried from the room.
Bronnin sat on the bed slowly, picking up Fergus's hand and squeezing it.
"Fergus?" she asked quietly.
"Aye," he managed, opening his eyes as Kickick came running back. She sat on the opposite side of him, ripping open his shirt and gasping at the neat hole and blood. She looked at Bronnin, then simply folded the hand towel into four before pressing it to the hole.
"You'll be ok," she said lamely.
"Ah knoe, hen," he said faintly, smiling slightly. "Ah knoe. He's taking us tae find Martha. We'll be alright," he sighed.
"Good," she said firmly.
"But… Yi huv tae do me a favour, you girls," he said quietly.
"What?" Kickick asked, leaning over him. "Oh Fergus, what? What can we do?"
"Yi can… If Martha cannae help me, yi huv tae… yi huv tae make sure either thi two o' yous, or Martha, goes with him," he managed.
"What?"
"If Ah'm no around nae more, yous two huv tae… huv tae look after him," he whispered.
His hand lost its grip on Bronnin's. It fell to the bed.
-------------------------------------------------
"Paging Doctor Jones. Doctor Jones, please attend A&E. Doctor Jones to A&E," the announcement blared.
Martha jumped at her desk, realising she had probably been day-dreaming. She got up, stretched, and felt in her pocket for her pager. She turned it over and realised it had been beeping and stopped in frustration.
"Day-dreaming again, Martha?" she yawned, heading for the door. "You're doing that more and more. Perhaps you need more excitement in your life."
She walked down the corridor, pulling her white coat straight and gathering speed as it sunk in that she was expected in Accident and Emergency.
Why are they paging me? Surely they have enough staff on down there, she wondered.
She pushed through the doors to the reception desk and spotted Lynda sat behind it.
"It's me," she said, raising her hands in query.
"Thank God! He's shouting for you and won't let any other doctor near him!" Lynda said, exasperated. Martha felt her heart hesitate.
"Who?" she demanded.
Lynda nodded to the emergency room doors to her right. "Just came in, bullet wound, or so it says. Doesn't look like one to–"
Martha looked to her left to see who was leaning against the doors. She gasped and ran, full-tilt, ignoring Lynda's calls to stop.
She slammed straight into the solidity of a Time Lord, wrapping her arms round him and feeling him lift her off the floor in a trademark spinning hug.
He dropped her back on the floor, but he wasn't grinning. He wasn't even smiling.
"Fergus," he said urgently, turning her and pushing her toward the door.
She gasped again, then shook herself.
"Right. Fergus first, you later," she said professionally, barrelling through the door. "Any hints?"
"A Krimmanhellanian Peacekeeper Mark IV, firing fine-fractured stimulated energy packets, from about twenty feet," he said simply. She blinked at him. "Super-heated blobs of light," he said quickly.
"Got it. Stay here," she ordered, and the doors swung shut behind her.
The Doctor turned and looked at Bronnin and Kickick, simply staring at him.
Lynda got up and walked over slowly.
"You're… you're her friend? The Doctor?" she asked helpfully.
"I am."
"She said you'd gone home to Ireland," she ventured.
"Long story," he bit out.
"Hmm. We have a waiting room. It has coffee," she offered, waving her hand toward a large white set of double doors.
"Coffee?" he prompted, hanging his tongue out suddenly in disgust. "Haven't you got any tea?"
"Well–" Lynda began.
But Bronnin suddenly reached out and slapped at his chest painfully.
"You!" she seethed. "In there, now!" she ordered.
He didn't argue.