"Donna!" the Doctor called again. His feet pounded over the hard, dry earth as he saw her collapse to the ground.
He'd noticed her excessively flushed skin the moment he looked up, but he hadn't realized the severity of the situation. He reached her side in a few seconds and immediately pressed one hand against her cheek while wrapping the other round her wrist. Her skin felt very dry and hot; he judged her temperature to be 105.8, give or take a tenth of a degree. Her pulse was rapid, and he could hear the ragged breaths she drew and exhaled.
"Donna!" He spoke her name again, hoping to rouse her. But she did not stir from her stupor.
His first priority was to get her out of the sun. He bent, struggling a bit to lift her. He tugged her up rather inelegantly, but after a few moments managed to settle her in his arms.
"Not so scrawny after all," he quipped.
Of course she did not reply. Immediately he missed her snappy retorts and snarky comments. But there wasn't time to dwell upon that. He shambled across the dry earth, hastening toward the shaded shelter of the tent.
Unceremoniously he dumped Donna on the sleeping bag she'd rolled out earlier. She offered no complaint at the less than delicate treatment. Her head lolled to the side, eyes closed against her reddened skin.
Without hesitation the Doctor unbuttoned her white cotton shirt, stripping it from her in one swift motion. He pulled off her khakis then whisked off her hat, shoes, and socks. Her entire body was terribly flushed. He spared one moment to check the water bottle she'd clipped to her slacks. It was empty.
"Oh Donna, why didn't you just come back?" he muttered.
He pinched the skin on the back of her hand gently. It remained standing, a clear sign of significant dehydration. He'd suspected as much. He would need to get her rehydrated, but his first priority was cooling her down.
He grabbed one of the water bottles, thankful for the special material that kept the contents cool for many hours. He poured the liquid over her shirt then bunched up the fabric. He pushed the wet wad up under her left arm, then saturated her slacks and placed them under her right arm. He emptied another bottle over his own shirt and tucked it around her groin. He'd covered the two most essential areas for internal cooling, but reducing her external skin temperature would help, too.
He poured water into his hand and drizzled it over her chest and belly then rubbed the liquid over her skin. He performed the treatment on her arms and legs, too, then gently passed his wet hand over her cheeks and brow.
Donna's eyelids fluttered, and she gave a low moan. He spoke her name anxiously, hoping she'd rouse. But she could not struggle out of her unconsciousness. He needed to provide even more cooling.
He reached for his jacket and rummaged through the pockets until he found a folded map. He opened it half-way then used it to fan her, moving the paper over her body, up and down, to encourage evaporative cooling.
When the water on her skin had dried, he checked her pulse again. It remained rapid, but it had slowed marginally. He pressed a hand over her chest, noting that her temperature was now 104.3 and that she was breathing with slightly less difficulty.
It was now time to deal with the dehydration. He opened another water bottle then placed her head in his lap. His fingers touched her lips, gently opening her mouth so that he could pour in a few drops of water. He stroked her throat, hoping to encourage reflexive swallowing. Unfortunately, his small action proved useless: Donna did not swallow.
He couldn't risk her aspirating any of the water. He would have to ensure that she drank it another way. He positioned the bottle at her lips then placed his fingertips upon her temple. The Time Lord closed his eyes to concentrate, finding his way into his companion's mind.
Her thoughts were muted, nearly stilled by her unconscious state. But he didn't require her participation to complete his task. He moved through her mind, delving deeper until he reached far enough to tap into her motor responses. He sent a simple command then opened one eye to check that she obeyed. Her left index finger twitched, just as he'd told it to do.
"Swallow," he instructed, and she did.
He managed to get half a bottle of water into her. He didn't dare try any more; the heat stroke could cause nausea, and the last thing he wanted was for her to vomit and become even more dehydrated. He slid his hand down to rest against her cheek.
Donna's temperature was now 103.1 degrees. He'd managed to cool her significantly, but she was not out of danger yet. He shifted her onto her side, in the recovery position, then rearranged the wet cloths so that they remained at her armpits and groin. He poured a little more water into his hand and rubbed it over her back and legs then fanned her for several more minutes.
When she groaned and gave a spluttering cough, he nearly leaped over her prone body so that he could see her face.
"Donna?" he inquired tentatively.
One eyelid opened partially, and she groaned again. "God. My head."
Then, as quickly as she'd roused, she slipped away again, her eyes closing as her limbs went limp.
"Donna?" he asked again, pressing his fingers over the pulse point in her throat. He sighed and resumed his fanning.
He wished he had a saline IV; that would improve her hydration almost immediately. But he'd come ill-prepared for this emergency. Truth be told, it hadn't even occurred to him that something like this could happen. While he'd felt the heat, he could regulate his body temperature, adjusting blood flow to provide necessary cooling and keep him in homeostasis. He hadn't thought much about human physiology, other than to remember to pack sufficient water and food.
If anything happened to Donna, if she didn't recover fully, it would be his fault. He'd been a careless git who'd forgotten to consider the consequences of the extreme heat for his human companion.
He stroked the hair back from her forehead, permitting his hand to linger over her brow. "I'm sorry," he said softly.
There was nothing more he could do at the moment. His only recourse was to wait.
To be concluded…
