A/N: I realize this is a delicate subject matter to a few people on a personal level. Mine too. There is a reason I wrote "Legacy" the way I did. Some of you know, some of you don't. I'll leave that a/n for that story and not this one.
My grandfather died of heart related issues in August. He and I were very close, in fact, he had a major hand in raising me and... okay, I'm giving away the a/n to Legacy here... most of my life was spent traveling with him while he worked all over the place. My education was spent mostly on the road and in meeting the people he worked with. I never went home for the major part of my life except for once... and then I never really had a home after. My place was with Grampa.
Like him, I went into the same field (kind of made sense, considering the upbringing). While sometimes we didn't agree with methods of approach, we usually got along at other times. When I got married, we became distant, and then he retired and moved to where we were instead of going home.
Those of you familiar with Classic Who, does this sound familiar, lol?
After he retired it logically fell to me to follow in his footsteps.
After he died in August after years and years of heart and stroke issues, his former union brothers and sisters came to me to find out what was next in relation to his company, and if I planned, like he had, to lead his company.
At this point I have not (yet) decided.
This story is not about a legacy, however (Legacy is), but is about something else. I guess I write fan fiction as a coping mechanism, I don't know. But, know that if this story hits you on a personal level... you aren't the only one.
CHAPTER TWO
Martha and Donna began to switch off, but it didn't take long, particularly with the UNIT rumour mill, for people who had traveled with him or known him in a previous incarnation to catch wind of his decline in health. Any worries that he might have been secretly carted away to some secret military base... well... Martha supposed he already had been carted away to some secret military base, although one friendly to him. The worries of him being lost to a hostile one soon gave way to the knowledge that he had a very long line of guardians to go through first.
The first day after his heart attack was like the day of. If he moved, it was punctuated by a moan and a nurse would send him back to sleep with a bit of medication, and so he spent the first day sleeping. He still looked ashen and pale, which meant he was by far not out of the woods. A few specialists had been called in - cardiac ones that had been cross-trained in other disciplines and ones who, more importantly, were both the best in their field and were known to be able to keep secrets.
One was ushered in where she consulted his chart.
Martha took her measure, and filled in what gaps she could. "He's still very much kept under - to keep him comfortable - as well as the side effect of keeping them both beating regular and the stress off him," she answered. "His lifestyle is one of very high risk and high stress. The last... mission... was one of both stress, as in job type, as well as emotional. He lost his daughter. I think that blow didn't help him. He also, from what his files say, has a history of heart issues."
The woman, a petite blonde woman read over the charts and nodded in understanding. "I also read that certain injuries, particularly those to organs and the hearts, while being mostly healed in regeneration still retain some weakness. Continued injury or stress will only compound the issue. Much the same as humans, although once damaged, we always have full damage. The fact that he can heal some, if not most, is a huge advantage," said the blonde doctor, and Martha heard the faintly Californian toned American accent. "Forgive me, I've met him before. Unfortunately, I had the unfortunate event of causing some of that damage... and to the same heart. My name is Dr. Grace Holloway. He looked different then. Twice."
Martha's eyebrows immigrated to her scalp, or at least she felt that they did. "What?"
Grace had a ghost of a smile. "I met him while he was on my operating table. He was trying to get up and leave... although... really... in retrospect perhaps it would have been best if he had been allowed to. It's a long story. I've had time, with his help of course, to learn a bit of his physiology. The rest I learned when I decided that I would like to study xeno-medicine... I am one of the few xeno-surgeons in the world, Dr. Jones, and of those I am the best at it. While the others prefer to think of aliens as science projects to disassemble I prefer to think of them as simply other patients deserving of the respect of any others... that brought me to UNIT instead of, say, Torchwood or its equally insular American counterpart."
Martha was impressed. "Why?"
"Well, meeting him, for one. I might have been working for the American version of Torchwood had he not met me first," she answered, honestly. "He seemed so human... so alive. And while his internal workings might be alien, and his mind alien... and his culture even more so... I realized that life on other worlds is much like life on other continents or countries, back when we thought the world was flat. What right do we have to judge another sentient as less than us when we have more to learn from them as equals and friends?"
With a sigh of relief Martha said, "I'm glad you said that. That's how I felt after traveling with him."
"You... you went with him?"
"For awhile," answered Martha. "And it was great... it really was. And then there was a... terrible circumstance. I chose to leave to pursue a relationship I knew I'd never have with him with another. We became friends after that. And now this. Dr. Sullivan says this will likely permanently ground him."
Grace nodded. "I have to agree with him, at least with how things look now. As I say, it's better to play things by ear but at the same time keep the patient from getting his hopes up too high to have them dashed."
Grace led them outside into the hall. "Now, it's better we leave him to rest. Even under all that medicating, he still needs to rest and us talking over him might bring him up and out of it enough to not rest as much as he should. As professionals linked to his care, I think we need to have a conference on this."
"I'm too close..."
"Nonsense. If you're too close, so am I," stated Grace. "And, being close may mean he'll be more inclined to listen to us, all of us, if we present a unified front. I've had a chat with the TARDIS, if one can call it that, and I think she agrees with me. At least I didn't get any sign to the negative. I think, if I read the signs well enough, that she will not let him off of Earth or into any trouble for the short, or even mid term. Maybe even the long term, if it becomes necessary. I found his medical library, which was suspiciously close to the console room and his medical bay... which was also suspiciously close by to the console room. Both places practically next door. So perhaps she understood and agrees. That's how I'm taking it."
"The library?" asked Martha, stopping in her tracks. "It moved the medical part of the library next to the console room?"
"Yes... oh... I took a few books out that appear to be on Gallifreyan physiology, and I'm studying it now. I think if we study it together we can perhaps get an accurate view of how to proceed. There are more in there."
Days melded into each other, and on the third day he was moved from the Valiant by helicopter to UNIT headquarters in London.
On the fourth the three of them agreed to slowly reduce the amount of pain medication and heart regulating medication to let him start to come out of the drug induced haze and sleep. His hearts sounded stronger, although the right sometimes sounded a bit weak still.
The Doctor was first aware of the sun on his back as he had rolled over to his side and away from the window in his room sometime early in the morning before it came up. Things still seemed hazy, as if from a distance, even if not through a darkened tunnel. His depth perception was really off, if the badly aimed try for the glass on his nightstand was anything to go by as he sent it flying, bouncing off the tiles and spilling water everywhere.
With a tired sigh, he laid down again and tried to get the world to stop spinning and the ache in his chest to subside. Rassilon it hurt. He lifted his hands up to rub his eyes and noticed the oxygen monitor clipped over his right index finger and the IV in the back of his left hand. He had another IV going into the inside of his right arm as well.
Well, that would account for the fuzzy feeling in his head and body. He tried to remember what had happened.
That, too, was fuzzy. He remembered feeling the crushing weight on his chest when he dropped off Martha, and then things tunneled. He'd only been like this once, right after Roz's funeral when he'd...
Oh.
Oh shit.
"Not again," he breathed into the oxygen mask.
There was a call button tied to the metal rails of his bed. He supposed he should tell someone he was awake. Ask where everyone was. He didn't want to admit that he was also in a bit of pain, and, he knew, that was to be expected. He was also still very tired and knew that, too, was to be expected. A whole lot of sleep was likely in his near future as it would likely be the only thing he could expect to do.
The Doctor hit the call button. A few minutes later a nurse came in and checked him over. "How are you feeling, Doctor?"
"Tired," he answered truthfully, through the mask.
"And the pain?"
He considered playing it off, but it was reaching a point where he knew she could see it in his eyes. "I'll call your team of doctors, they haven't been far, but I can give you something to take the edge off. If you get anything else is up to them, okay?"
He nodded and she left for a moment before returning with a needle that she inserted into his left IV push. A few moments later the pain in his chest lifted a bit. He dozed as she checked him over again, before patting his upper arm in comfort. He was vaguely aware of a mixture of familiar voices but couldn't place two of the three. Martha was there, of that he was certain. The other two...
The Doctor wasn't quite sure of how long he dozed but he came to a little while later and the sun had moved in the sky. The sky was still blue, but clearly the shadows were being cast the other way and he was in the shady part of the building. His time sense, once it had slowly kicked in, told him he had first awoken in the morning and now it was mid-afternoon. He rolled over and noticed that Donna was reading in a chair by the window.
When she looked up and saw him awake, she dropped the book. "Oh thank God..." she whispered, then she stood up and in a louder whisper, one full of sharpness. "If you ever scare me like that again Space Boy I swear I will kick your skinny slip of nothing from the TARDIS to the moon."
He smiled weakly, although he knew she likely couldn't see it under the mask. Donna, with a look of mischief, hit the call button. "Martha was in here today to see you. You have a team of specialists looking after you. One of them is this xeno-surgeon, someone by the name of Grace Halloway... and the other is a xeno-medical... something or other... by the name of Harry Sullivan. Martha is rounding them out as the third."
The Doctor lay there, his thoughts running in sudden circles as his hearts rate jumped. A warning alarm went off and Donna ran her fingers through his hair. "No, no, no, shhhh, it's okay. They're good... they're with UNIT. You're okay... calm down... relax... it's okay, it's going to be okay," she soothed.
A nurse ran in. "What happened?"
"I don't know, he woke up and I was filling him... as soon as he heard Dr. Holloway's and Dr. Sullivan's names he became alarmed," answered Donna. "I'm trying to calm him down..."
The nurse nodded, but was already on the phone. "Yes Doctor, his pulse and bp jumped... I can do that..."
She hung up, took his head in her hands and looked him in the eyes. "Doctor... listen, shh... you have to calm down, your heart is still healing and this isn't good for you. I'm going to give you something to help you relax now."
"No... I'm all right," he whispered through the mask. "Let me... let me catch my breath... caught me off guard."
He took a few deep lungfuls of breath, ignoring the protests of his chest and close his eyes, allowing the deep calming breaths to let his hearts slow down. The alarms stopped and the pain even eased. The nurse nodded when he opened his eyes again, the weariness clouding them. "Okay, you all right now?"
"Yeah," he whispered, already feeling exhausted. "I think I'm going to... rest my eyes for a bit longer."
"Yeah, Space Boy, you look like hell," said Donna shakily.
He nodded once, and then closed his eyes and let sleep take him.
Twenty minutes later the three human doctors in charge of looking after the alien known as the Doctor sat in conference. "According to the nurse in charge, and Donna, he had bit of a spell when he found out we're here and caring for him. He calmed himself, but it exhausted him and he's deeply asleep again," said Dr. Holloway. "I didn't expect him to panic but I really should have. The last time I met him I may have contributed to his aversion to hospitals."
"Might I suggest a mild tranquilizer?" asked Harry. "I'd hate to suggest it, but if he panics again he'll do more harm to himself, if he hasn't already. Not an all out sedative, but something to keep him calm but reasonably alert, should he wish to be. It might make him a bit zoned out, though. Just in the day, and give him something at night to help him sleep all the way through it. I know what his sleep cycle is like and he won't sleep well without it because his doesn't match a human's."
Martha nodded in agreement. "It's not something I'd normally suggest, especially when it concerns him and his freedom of choice, but given the circumstances I think Dr. Sullivan has a point."
Grace was still reluctant, but she thought about it. "Well, I'll agree to try it. You're right on that he needs to be kept calm. The Doctor I remember was always calm, but from how you and Donna describe him he's almost manic and the tranquilizer might be required anyway. At least until he's stronger."
The next day, and he thought it was the next day but wasn't sure. He felt strange and disconnected. Even his time sense, what made him a Time Lord, was off kilter and sluggish. The Doctor didn't know if he was better or worse, but whatever this was he wasn't sure he liked it. He wasn't sure he disliked it either.
And the fuzzy indecision was unusual as well.
He tried so hard to get a sense of things. "Hi," came a voice off to his side and he looked up to see Grace looking down at him. "How are you feeling?"
"Funny," he answered. "What's in the IV? My time sense is all off."
"I know you're going to be calm when I tell you, but even then you're going to tell me off," she answered. "Because of your little spell yesterday we decided, for your sake, to give you something to keep you calm. Things might be a little hazy for the next few days, but you'll be awake when you want to be, and you can sleep when you want to. It's taking the edge off the pain too."
"Oh," he answered, because mostly of the tranquilizer was keeping him from feeling any semblance of his temper rising.
And, oh, he knew it would be if he could get it to rise through through the drugs in his system. She was right on that. He had words for this... words for them too. His temper faded and logic slid into place. Had it been his choice, knowing the patient's condition and liklihood of being excitable... and he could be frank and honest about his tendency to be just like that... that he'd have made the very same choice to tranquilize the patient. That took some of the fire out of his temper and left him feeling somewhat defeated instead. Three against one, even if he was stubborn enough to fight them, were bad odds particularly when those three had only his best interests at heart.
"Okay," he finished. "You're right. I have words... but the tranquilizer is also making me see reason. Mostly because I can't give in to a temper and reason was usually right behind it. I'd have done the same so I guess I can't bitch. Too much."
She raised her eyebrows at his use of words, but knew they had won this battle. The war with his health wasn't over, but at least they had won this one. "Good," she said. "Now, seeing as you can see reason... I trust you also know what else I came to talk to you about."
He blinked slowly. "No... no... no..."
"Doctor... you know I love you and I'd always be honest with you?" she started. "And the three of us, looking at your charts, can see the same thing. If you continue living like you do, you will be dead, permanently. No chance of regeneration. And you know it."
"What will I do?" he asked in a small voice. "Grace, it's literally all I have... Gallifrey's gone. I'm the last..."
"One more reason to live, you old fool," she chided even as she felt her own heart drop at that knowledge. "And I'm sure, as I once offered you, that you can come with me... only now you need to accept it. Time to put your feet up and let us do what you've been doing. I know it sucks. It sucks having to say it. Just think about it, all right? We don't want to lose you prematurely."
He was silent, and she could see that even through the tranquilizers that he was falling into a brood from hell. "Now you listen," she took his chin and turned his head to look her in the eyes and she saw the tears he was desperately trying to keep from falling. "Hey, come on, it won't be so bad. Haven't you ever given thought to the word retirement, or did you assume you'd go until you dropped?"
"Grace..." he whispered and she leaned close. "I'm scared."
Her heart clenched. "It's okay... this is uncharted territory, even for you and we get that. And you're not alone in this," she saw his eyelids drooping, and knew that this conversation was finally catching up with him. "Lie back, put your head down. There... shh... go to sleep. We'll be here when you wake again. Just rest."
His eyes fluttered closed and his breathing evened out as his face relaxed into sleep again. She wiped away of her own tears from his admission. Grace smoothed out the blankets over him, remembering the other man she had almost fallen head over heels for and the differences, and similarities, between the two. Her Doctor had been quiet, almost introspective. Shy and proper. Still strange, but then again he was an alien. This one, according to Dr. Jones and the other friend, Donna, was all exuberance and manic energy. Still strange, still alien.
Still a Time Lord.
Physically, however, yes, two different men. Not that much though. Hers had been thin, but not tall. Hair the same colour and grey eyes. This one had the same hair, if shorter and wilder, thicker too, but brown eyes and, while not physically any less thin the height made it look more extreme. Although, to be frank the time in hospital with little in the way of heavy food and the long illness was eating away at what little fat he may have had on him. He was thinner, if the nurse's measurements were correct and they usually were, by at least three kilograms. It was a significant loss of weight in so short a time.
No time like the present to correct any continued weight loss. She got up and went to seek out the nurse and made a few changes to his diet. It was still mostly a fluid diet as his stomach wouldn't handle anything heavy or solid, but it was time to add some supplements to it.
