Sarah sank to her knees beside the Doctor's still form. Her fingers shook as she reached for his wrist to find a pulse, trying not to panic. A sharp sigh of relief escaped her as she felt the familiar double beat, erratic and weak but there.
"Doctor!" she called urgently, lightly shaking his shoulders. There was no response. Very gently she took one arm and rolled him over. His head lolled as she settled him onto his back.
She gasped when she saw his face closely for the first time. His eyes were closed, his skin pale and almost translucent. A network of fine black lines radiated just under the skin across his face, far too many to simply be following the pattern of veins. Or at least, the pattern of human veins. She brought her fingers to his cheek, and immediately snatched them back in shock. He was ice cold to the touch.
Something was dreadfully wrong. He was ill, maybe dying. Oh, god, Doctor. What can I do? She bit her lip, fighting to stay calm. His life might depend on her presence of mind now.
Whenever she needed assistance in the past she turned to Mr. Smith, the supercomputer she had created in her attic. But he could be no help with this, nor could the children even if they weren't all three out with Alan at a cinema matinee. And she couldn't rely on human medics to aid him; she knew from hard experience they far were more likely to kill than cure an alien in their midst. Yet she still had one last resource –
Her hand dove into her vest pocket for her sonic lipstick. In an instant she had found the proper setting and sent the signal, then sat back on her heels to wait.
Only a few seconds had passed when she felt the air molecules beside her shift and the grey metal shape of her second-best friend winked into view. "Mistress?"
"K9!" Sarah cried. "The Doctor is ill – I need you to tell me what's wrong with him!"
The robot dog extended his nose probe and gently pressed it against the Doctor's pale skin. His ears whirred as he gathered and processed, until Sarah was on the verge of shouting with impatience.
"Insufficient data, Mistress," he reported finally. "There is no sign of injury or trauma. Apparent symptoms are not consistent with known Gallifreyan illnesses. My sensors detect widespread damage to cellular systems. Pulse and heartrates erratic, lifesigns… waning…"
"No!" Sarah choked in swift denial. This couldn't be happening. It was unfathomable that anything could happen to her Doctor. "We have to help him, K9! If we access the TARDIS medical supplies can you find something that will cure him?"
"Probability low, Mistress. In absence of accurate diagnosis, best chance of success with random medication approximately 0.34 percent."
Frustrated and increasingly fearful, Sarah ran a hand through her hair, grasping for other ideas. "Then what? I need your best recommendation, K9!"
The metal ears whirred. "Suggest removal to Gallifrey at once, Mistress."
"What?"
"Removal to Gallifrey, Mistress, the Doctor's planet of origin. Have highly advanced medical knowledge and are most likely to have the proper resources available to…"
"Yes, yes, alright K9! But how – can you program the coordinates into the TARDIS?" She held her breath. If the answer was no, there would be no hope at all.
"Affirmative, Mistress," K9 replied, and Sarah's heart began to beat again.
"Then do it!" she commanded at once.
"Affirmative, Mistress. Remind that the distortion breech around the black hole is not yet sealed. Time to event horizon destabilization less than three Earth minutes."
"Then hurry, K9!"
She picked herself up and began to tug on the Doctor's arm, trying to maneuver his dead weight back into the TARDIS and cursing Alan soundly for not being around when she needed him. What she would give for a rope, or a wheelbarrow…
"Mistress! Event horizon destabilization is reaching critical! I must return to my position at once!"
With a spurt of strength born of desperation she managed to drag the Doctor's limp form across the threshold. "Close the doors, K9!" she called.
"Affirmative, Mistress."
The doors thrummed closed and Sarah sat back with a gasp, pressing one hand over the stitch burning in her side. She was getting too old for this.
"Mistress –"
"Go, K9," she instructed, forcing herself to her feet and stumbling down the steps towards the console. She barely registered that the Doctor had redecorated again, in a soaring, somber Gothic style. Her only focus was on getting him home as quickly as possible.
"Press the large black button on the top of the console, Mistress," K9 intoned as he faded from sight.
"Black button…" she located it and pressed it firmly, sighing in relief as the central column began to rise and fall. They were on their way.
Sarah hurried back to the Doctor's prone body. The fine black lines that webbed across his face were darkening in intensity, and he was beginning to shiver fitfully with cold and shock. Spotting a throw rug draped over the back of a nearby chair, she gathered it up and carefully arranged it over his legs.
Turning to kneel beside his head, she reached down and gingerly placed it in her lap. With a grunt of effort she tugged on his shoulders, pulling him upright until he was half-propped, half-sprawled against her. Then she reached her arms around his waist from behind and hugged him to her as tightly as she could.
