"I have seen your blood."
A strangely tall man with white eyes and perfectly blond hair stared mercilessly at the Doctor, his complexion pale from a decade of institutionalisation. Perfectly manicured hands twisted uncomfortably in his lap, shredding a white paper towel into confetti sized pieces that showered delicately across the linoleum floor. His right knee bounced steadily, the heel of his bare foot an inch above the tiles. The constant motion made his body rock rhythmically. He wore ripped jeans which were too big for him and a white restraint jacket covered a grey turtle-neck shirt. The jackets sleeves were relaxed, a set of handcuffs held the man to the cold metal chair on which he sat.
"Oh yes?" said the Doctor, his forehead creased slightly, "When did you see that then?"
A nurse stood in the corner of the room was idly scratching off the remains of pink nail varnish which the ward manager had instructed her to remove before she came back on to the unit. She watched the Doctor with a vague interest. He had a shamelessly unprofessional tone and was not the usual type of psychiatric consultant she was used to dealing with. He spoke to her for one thing, most of the doctors didn't deem it important to talk to nursing staff, unless a patient needed sedation or toileting. This one was quite different. Doctor Smith. Even his name was suspicious.
"In my dream," the white eyed man smiled unevenly, "I saw your blood in my dream."
The Doctor snapped shut the buff file in front of him and read the name again. Gareth Suffolk. Not a very special name for a very special person. Still, you couldn't help the name your parents picked out of their tiny little brains when their emotions were running riot.
"Listen, Gareth, can I call you Gareth? I can call you Mr Suffolk if you like but it sounds so formal and I can see from your records that you aren't fond of formality. As I was saying, Gareth, I'm interested to hear what you've been seeing in your dreams, because you are a very interesting person and I'd like to get to know you better."
The nurse snorted rather more loudly than she intended and earned herself a glare.
"I think I can manage, nurse. Perhaps you could catch up on your personal beautification somewhere else."
The nurse's green eyes almost popped out of her head, "No-one's allowed in a room with Mr Suffolk by themselves, Doctor."
"Well then if anything happens to me it will be my fault won't it? Go on, run along," he smiled broadly in an encouraging fashion and waited until she had flounced out of the door, her added tsk of disapproval sliced off by the gentle click of the door catch as it latched itself into the keeper. Swinging on the back legs of his plastic chair he rested his feet casually on the table and grinned cheerfully at the man before him, "So where were we?"
Albino eyes blinked back at him, "I have dreamed of you all my life."
The Doctor felt a rush of adrenalin spurt through his veins, "Oh yes?" he said again, "And what have I been doing in your dreams?"
The shock of blonde hair tilted sideways robotically and he leaned slowly across the desk to whisper a word in the Doctor's ear.
"Dying."