Notes: Well, I decided to participate in InkTober, this year. I used the official InkTober prompts, and instead of producing works of art (which would have been utterly abysmal), I decided to write a little something: I composed a story in drabble verses, one verse for each prompt.
I cheated a very little bit: The 26th verse felt very rushed, too much information crammed into 100 words. I decided to make it two verses and used a variant of the prompt in each one. I also changed the prompt for #6: drooling to saliva. Drooling just seemed too jocular and insensitive where it was needed for my theme. Other than that, I pretty much stuck to the words, occasionally changing tenses.
This was a lot of fun to write; writing drabbles is a bit like doing a jigsaw puzzle, finding just the right 100 words to create a vivid scene. Putting 32 of them together in a coherent story was a brilliant challenge, too. It seems a little disjointed in parts because of the separate verses, but I am content to live with that. I hope you won't mind too much.
As always, love and gratitude to rose_nebula and mrsbertucci (over on AO3) for their fine beta skills and unstinting support. mrsbertucci, my title guru, came up with the gorgeous title for this angsty tale.
Hope you enjoy! Beware the angst!
Trigger alert for grave, life-threatening injuries.
STOLEN BREATHS
The Doctor clawed through the murky darkness, poisonous fumes swirling around him, a noxious mist engineered to slowly corrode the airways of any organism straying into its path. He had certain biological advantages: a respiratory bypass; biochemical pathways dedicated to expelling or processing toxins.
Rose did not.
He hoped she'd done as she was told… for once… returned to the TARDIS before the bombs had dropped. Desperation drove him onward, the need to reassure himself she was safe.
He found the TARDIS through the gloom, doorway ajar, the warm glow illuminating a crumpled form lying in the dirt just outside.
He ran to her, sweeping loose wisps of hair from her pale cheeks. Rose almost looked tranquil lying there. He might have convinced himself she was asleep, if it weren't for her raspy gasps and the feeble trembling of her pulse against his probing fingertips betraying her battle to stay alive.
Gathering her into his arms, he hugged her close and rammed the TARDIS doors fully open. The eerie light from the central console only emphasized the blue tinge of her lips, the ashen tone of her skin…
…the dark, inky blood bubbling out her mouth with each ragged breath.
Those breaths stopped seconds later.
"No! No, no, no, no!" He nearly fumbled her in his frenzy to get her to the infirmary. "Don't you dare! You promised me forever. Don't you dare give up now!"
He set her on the infirmary bed, not bothering to attempt resuscitation… there wouldn't be enough left of her airways. They'd been devastated, virtually roasted by the lethal chemical mist. He'd need to do a full scan to assess the damage properly, to determine if repairs could be made.
But, first things first: keeping his Rose alive. Where there was life, there was hope.
He leaped maniacally from station to station throughout the infirmary, his fingers flying over the sophisticated equipment like he was casting a spell. (Oh, if only magic were real…) He hooked her up to an artificial lung (crude but effective), syphoning her blood from her body, loading it with oxygen, and pumping it back directly into the right atrium of her fragile heart, throbbing feebly within her chest.
Only once she was stable, colour returning to her lips and cheeks, did he take a moment to rest, flopping into a chair by her side, his face buried in his hands.
He tried to stifle his tears, as he watched over her. They would only confirm how attached he'd become.
As if he could deny it!
No, he was emotionally compromised, well and truly befuddled with affection (love) for one Rose Tyler.
(…had been since the word run.)
For all his pretense of detachment, this incident, her audacity to play chicken with this deadly force, had only proved how not-detached he was, how much it would hurt to lose her whether he allowed himself to feel or not.
He cupped her cheek. "Rose Tyler–"
Alarms blared, flashing mauve. Rose convulsed.
Specs on, he peered at the monitor. Heart-failure! Blood was pumping in faster than Rose's weakened heart could cope with.
How could he have been so careless? So thick?
He swivelled the dials on the pump back to a lower setting, and pulling out his sonic screwdriver, fiddled with the controls. He pressed it to Rose's chest. Her body jolted at the contact, arching off the bed.
Deafening silence followed... then the blessed blip of her heartbeat resonated through the room.
He pressed an exuberant kiss to her forehead, then drawing back, tenderly wiped the bloodstained saliva from her lips.
He had never felt so weary in all his lives. Distress and guilt over Rose's suffering, compounded with inadequate rest (even for a Time Lord) and the energy his body was expending to expel the toxin, left him mentally and physically shattered. By all rights, he should be in the Zero Room, recuperating.
As exhausted as he was, Rose's needs came first. With a warm, damp flannel, he continued to clean flecks of blood from around her mouth, washed the grime from her face, and sponged her body as best he could.
He vowed to never leave her alone again.
– – – – –
He rubbed his hand across his face, rereading the medical scan. Glancing back at Rose, horror filled his hearts. The damage was beyond his capabilities to heal. There wasn't even enough left to give him a place to start. The sole consolation was there was minimal internal bleeding; the blood vessels had been effectively cauterized by the toxic vapour.
But now the swelling was beginning. And infection. Even if he could get those under control, what then? How could he let her live like this, hooked up to machines? She was his pole star; his guiding light. She deserved better.
But how could he ever let her go, his precious girl? Guilt throbbed through him as he flooded her body with antibiotics, pain-killers, anti-inflammatories, anything to keep her alive. He sat beside her and clung to her hand, absently staring at the way her fingers meshed with his so perfectly.
One of those fingers twitched, and his gaze swept to her fever-flushed face.
Her eyes flew open, meeting his, full of unbridled fear. She opened her mouth, struggling for breath where no breath was possible.
"I've got you, Rose." He floundered to assuage her panic. "I won't let you fall."
"This, this is what comes of all those years of smoking," he quipped, compartmentalizing his fears and sorrow; she had enough of her own. She needed to believe he had everything under control. "Lucky for you, you have me to fix you up."
My Doctor, she soundlessly mouthed his name and squeezed his hand, tears flowing over her cheeks. In moments, her ruined sinuses were draining blood and mucus.
He dabbed the gore away, humbled by her ingenuous trust in him. It gave him the impetus to cure her instead of wallowing in hopelessness. He refused to fail her now.
"I'm going to put you to sleep, alright?" he told her. "You'll be more comfortable."
Alarm flared in her eyes again, and she clutched his hand painfully. Her lips parted, ready to form words she had no breath to give sound to. Her face crumpled in frustration, eyes screwed shut. The hand that wasn't holding his, smashed down on the mattress.
He stroked her hair, soothing her. "I've got you. You will wake up again, I promise." But he knew the universe was a cruel place. It stole his promises and destroyed everything that was good in his damned life.
He continued to caress her hair, reassuring her until she calmed. "Ready?" he asked, poised to put her in stasis.
She offered a hesitant smile and a nod of affirmation. His brave, precious girl.
"Right then. When you wake you will have brand-new lungs! No more ruining them with cheeky fags!"
She rolled her eyes.
"See you later, Rose Tyler."
Not if I see you first, she mouthed with a smile.
He kissed her forehead and sent her into stasis. "Goodnight, love."
He immediately spun around to the scanner again. He had a whale of a job ahead of him.
A few hours later, after considering all his options, his state of uncertainty in his abilities to heal Rose had been upgraded to guarded optimism, though he only had two viable choices. The first, creating an artificial respiratory system, he dismissed almost straight away. Though virtually indestructible, it wouldn't be terribly, weeell… natural-feeling.
He was leaning toward the second option: he could grow her new lungs using her stem cells and a tissue replicator. It would be like having her own lungs, but brand new and shiny.
The problem was, it wasn't without significant risks. He couldn't do this himself.
The truth was, Rose deserved better than to be healed using something he had cobbled together out of spare parts, his standard M.O. He absolutely refused to rely on flying by the seat of his pants when it came to her well-being, especially in his current state of exhaustion.
But the clock was ticking. If Rose was to be saved, the operation needed to be done soon. Fortunately, he knew the one person in all of time and space most qualified to perform the operation. Unfortunately, the last time he had seen her, he had just blown up her planet.
He'd transferred Rose to the Zero Room to help her recover from her infection and promote general well-being… as much as one could expect from someone with no respiratory tract. Rose was weak, but she needed to be as healthy as possible before being subjected to the gruelling surgery.
Provided Dr. Sep even agreed to it.
It had been four regenerations ago by his account, but probably not long enough by hers.
As usual, it had come down to the Time-Lord running out of time. He'd had to make a choice: the planet or the people. He'd chosen the people.
– – – – –
He carefully observed Dr. Sep's angular features on the viewscreen. Flet facial expressions were notoriously difficult to interpret, but there was no mistaking the malice she was projecting his way.
"Why should I help you, Doctor? You're so clever; you must be more than capable–"
"There's too much at stake!" He tugged at his hair. "I can't afford to botch this up."
"Personal is it?" Her long claws dug into the tabletop before her.
"This time, I wasn't able to save either the people or their planet. But my friend still has a chance…" he pleaded, "…if you'll help."
He materialized the TARDIS inside Sep's office, and swept open the doors. Sep turned her multi-faceted eyes on him. "You don't waste time."
"I've wasted too much already. Come, meet your patient."
"I haven't agreed–"
"Ah, but you can't resist this opportunity, can you?"
She hissed and scuttled past him, into the TARDIS. He led her to the Zero Room and Rose.
"It's human!"
"Ah, weeell… yes. Not all humans are hostile. Rose is brilliant, compassionate and–"
"If I do it, I will not have you present. I won't give you another opportunity to boost your swollen ego."
The Doctor sputtered. "Boost my…? That's not what this is about! I need to be there!" Panic erupted from him. "I promised. What if something happened…?"
Dr. Sep rasped at him, her iridescent scales flaring. "If I agree to do this, you'll simply have to trust me, Doctor," she turned to Rose, probing her with her claws, "just as I once trusted you…"
He had to restrain himself from yanking Sep away from his Rose, and bottle up his emotions, deep inside, where they belonged. She was his best hope.
"But we both know," Sep continued, "my trust was misplaced."
He dragged his hands down his face, crumpling to his knees beside Rose's still form. "Don't you think if I could've saved your home, I would have?" He could still see the dying planet in his mind's eye, scorched, ravaged.
"Humans… the scourge of the universe. You befriend them."
"Those humans died with your planet. I couldn't save them either."
"They didn't deserve to live, after what they did."
"It wasn't my place to judge. They should have been taken to the Shadow Proclamation and tried."
"And yet, you judged our fate."
"It was the only way to save you!"
He clutched Rose's body to his. He had been forced to make too many difficult decisions over the years, all for what he perceived as the "greater good". He had even made himself judge and jury over his own people, an impossible choice made for the sake of the universe. But there were always casualties, people he couldn't protect, and promises he couldn't keep. Promises were breakable.
"She makes me better," he sobbed.
Dr. Sep gently touched his shoulder with the blunt edge of her talon. "I suppose I'll do it, then. I'll do my best; you have my word."
He felt the panic drain from him, replaced with tenuous relief. "You will? I mean… you will! Oh, that's brilliant!"
"I will need scans of it's respiratory tract prior to the accident, and anything you can provide on human physiology."
"Done! I'll have everything sent to your database in two shakes! I'll meet you in your surgery. I'll bring Rose over in the TARDIS."
Sep's eyes whirled in warning. "You won't be staying!" She raised her claw, averting his protest. "You are too emotionally attached. You may wait in the family centre."
"Oi! Is there at least a little shop?"
– – – – –
It turned out, the little shop was exceedingly expensive, filled with all sorts of treats appealing to the Flet. Not unreasonable (they lived here… now). But that didn't help the Doctor find a gift for Rose. At least the assortment of unfamiliar (mostly toxic-to-humans) foods and strange knick-knacks were intriguing and offered something to occupy his mind while Rose's fate rested in the… talons of someone who, frankly, had it out for him.
He returned to the TARDIS. If he couldn't find Rose a gift at the little shop, maybe he could create a special surprise to welcome her home.
The Doctor was restless, unable to focus, his usually prodigious thoughts muddy, jumbled. He'd abandoned any pretence of devising a surprise for Rose, and instead paced around the central console, agitated, randomly twirling knobs and flipping switches.
He should have protested Dr. Sep's demand barring him from the surgery, adamantly insisted he participate.
The truth was, he'd been a coward… again. The truth was, he'd managed to convince himself if something were to happen to Rose, he'd have someone else to blame, someone other than himself.
The truth was, he would never forgive himself if he wasn't there for her.
Well, no time like the present! Chop-chop! A plan developing (albeit a pretty basic one), he twirled around the console, selecting buttons and switches with conviction. He was clever, very clever, and, using his very-clever mind, decided the best gift he could offer Rose was his ingenuity, or at the very least, his hand to hold.
He activated the dematerialization sequence; then a few twists, a swift tap with the mallet, a pull of a lever… and snap… the TARDIS was rematerializing.
A manic grin plastered across his face, he rushed to the TARDIS doors, opening them with a flourish.
"That took longer than I'd anticipated." Sep glanced up from the incubator she was overseeing, eyes flashing with what the Doctor might have mistaken for amusement; Flet expressions were very difficult… Either way, he'd been anticipating a more… prickly reception.
He rushed to Rose, still lying in stasis, and kissed her forehead.
"Come see," Sep invited. In the incubator, Rose's new respiratory tract was developing. "If you'd like, there's room to enhance her lung capacity by twenty percent."
"She's perfect already!" he blurted. There again, maybe if she'd had that advantage, she wouldn't be lying here, virtually dead. "Do it."
His anguish made enduring the linear passage of time agonizing: seconds, minutes, hours – a stretched-out, torturous sequence. He patrolled the operating chamber, treading in relentless circles, pausing only to caress Rose's cheek or to peer impatiently into the incubation chamber. Dr. Sep refused to allow him to accelerate the development of the lungs with his sonic.
He was forced to wait.
Seeking a diversion, he succumbed to morbid curiosity and made the mistake of peeking at Rose's timeline.
It was nearly extinguished!
Suddenly, time was slipping away too quickly, and he desperately clung to every fleeting moment Rose had left.
"There isn't enough time!" he howled, eyes fixed on Rose's broken body.
"A few more moments," Dr. Sep assured him. "Prepare her for surgery."
Time spinning out of his control, he did as she suggested. It would occupy his mind and his hands. He shoved his emotions aside, refusing to look at Rose's beautiful, pale face and faltering timeline.
"Done!" Sep announced, with seconds to spare.
Together, they implanted the healthy lungs, then reverently, the Doctor released Rose from stasis.
She drew one shuddering breath, and suddenly, golden energy was bursting out of her. Her timeline flared, stretching into eternity.
"Get back!" The Doctor pushed Sep aside, shoving her to the ground. A rapid change in air pressure and a burst of heat battered his senses. He could only watch, helpless, as Rose's body, burning impossibly bright, arched off the operating table, arms thrown wide. A mighty crack, like thunder, crashed through him.
Then all was still.
Ears numb to sound, black splotches occluding his vision, he staggered to his feet, whipping out his sonic screwdriver to scan Rose.
Sep struggled beside him. "What was that?" she demanded.
Hope filled his hearts. "If I'm not mistaken, that was Bad Wolf."
As the Doctor's senses recuperated, he peered warily at the woman before him, her still body exposed from surgery. His eyes trailed from her feet, along her legs (no difference…), but he gasped when his gaze reached the expanse of her torso: healed, no scars, breath rising and falling steadily, normal. He swallowed in trepidation, forcing himself to look at her face…
…and exhaled in relief.
She was still her… his Rose.
Hands trembling, he examined the data on his sonic: her cellular degradation had slowed to an almost imperceptible rate. Which probably meant… an extended life span! A gift.
– – – – –
Closing the Zero room door, he looked back at Rose, as a wisp of regeneration energy escaped her lips. She remained asleep. She probably wouldn't waken for several days. Only then would he really know how much she'd changed. His hearts beat double-time with concern.
Sep awaited in her lab. She'd been brilliant, essentially saving Rose's life and taking the medical miracle she'd witnessed in stride. He thanked her.
"The gratitude is mine. I admit, you gave the Flet a chance to thrive."
"And you have! Look at your accomplishments: your society; this facility…"
She dipped her head. "Farewell, Doctor."
– – – – –
The Doctor left the TARDIS in the vortex for days. He lay next to Rose, in the Zero Room, their fingers interlaced as they slept and healed.
He was awakened with a jolt, a warm, golden current swirling through his mind.
Rose!
He looked at his precious girl, drifting to consciousness beside him, fully telepathic now and seeking him. Flooding his mind with his love for her, he reached out, his deep blue and silver thoughts entwining perfectly with hers, pink and gold, twirling together in an ethereal dance.
Her eyes fluttered open and she squeezed his hand. "Hello."
"Hello."
– – – – –
Life was brilliant! The greatest thing since sliced bread. That's what he and Rose were: a metaphorical sandwich! A banana sandwich! What could be better than that?
Rose's recovery was astounding. Upon her first breath out of stasis with fresh lungs, Bad Wolf had granted her enhanced healing and a lifespan matched to the TARDIS'.
But that meant she was doomed to watch those she loved wither and die while she lived on. Guilt crushed his hearts. "The curse–"
"Not a curse, Doctor. A gift, remember?" She smiled, kissing him slow, deep, full of promise. A promise of forever.