George Hunt was one of UNIT's most recent medical interns and was often left with the task of simply fetching things - especially at the odd hours. It was a start though and he'd work his way up the ladder eventually. The task he had been appointed this time however, was not so menial. In fact, he considered it an honour. Every member of UNIT had read The Doctor's file. He was something of a legend. On this faithful night, he would get to meet the alien, in person. Well, hopefully. He had simply been told to collect some medical samples, but they were supposedly The Doctor's, so the Time Lord would probably be at Doctor Jones' flat. Everyone knew she had traveled with him. But many weren't sure on the details. He hoped that she would at least share some of her stories, the more he worked alongside her.
He could barely contain his excitement, as he pulled up in the UNIT issued armoured vehicle from UNIT's medical department. It had a cargo bay in the back, for transporting anything that should not be in the hands of public, such as confidential medical samples. It could even double as ambulance, with room for even the most high priority alien patients if need be. This was supposed to be a routine sample collection though, so he doubted any that the latter would be necessary. With deep anticipating breaths, he rang the doorbell and waited on the step, clutching a refrigerated storage bin.
By the time the myth had been declared 'busted', The Doctor was sound asleep. Whether that was due to his own accord, or if he'd passed out again, no one could be sure, but at least he was getting rest. Martha made sure to check his stats at regular intervals and note them down. She also monitored the spread of what she assumed to be a kind of rash over his chest. It was slowly inching itself wider and was darkening where is veins were. It was almost fascinating to see how for herself just how some of his circulatory system was mapped out. Whatever was happening to him, however was clearly not good, or natural. Martha was thankful when she heard the doorbell ring.
"That'll be George," she told those of the flat's occupants, who were conscious and went to answer it.
"Doctor Jones," George saluted. Martha still wasn't quite used to that, but it was nice to be looked up to.
"Come on in, George," Martha invited.
The site that greeted George, in Martha's front room, was that everybody seemed to be sitting about. Slumped in an overstuffed arm chair, was the man George knew to be Martha's fiancé, from the photos stuck up back in UNIT's offices. He was aware that Tom took regular stints in Africa to aid children in need there. A few of Martha's photos included a great many African children in various states of health surrounding the paediatrician, smiling. Lounged in another chair, was red headed woman, who he knew was involved back in the incident with ATMOS and the Sontarans. She was known to be the current companion of The Doctor. He almost missed the Time Lord, whose gangly frame just about hung of the end of a fairly long sofa. The blanket would've covered him, if it weren't for the recognizably spiked brown hair sticking out from the top. As George moved closer, he realised that an oxygen cylinder sat next to him, the line feeding under the blanket also. Everyone looked tired, but it appeared The Doctor was the only one asleep.
"Is he alright?" George pried, out of concern. Everything he had read about The Doctor portrayed a great hero, but he looked nothing of the sort at present.
"Not really, George," Martha sighed. "In fact, he's quite sick, but we don't know what's wrong." She handed The Doctor's bio samples over, looking forlorn. "I need these analysed straight away - with every possible test run on them."
"Are you sure you don't want to just bring him in, Doctor Jones?"
Martha looked as though she had seriously considered it. "That fact that he came to me, means he trusts me to look after him. I do not want to breach that trust in any way - if he had wanted to be in UNIT's care that is where he would have gone first. He doesn't like hospitals at the best of times, so the fact that he is seeking out help at all, is a big deal for him and a sign he is taking this seriously. I do not want to push him, however and make him go anywhere he does not want to. We're managing his condition here safely. If he is to suddenly decline however, I will need the UNIT ambulance despatched."
"Very well," George accepted. "Is there anything else we can be doing though?"
"I could use a portable scanner?" Martha requested.
"I'll get one from the vehicle," George nodded and returned to the vehicle, with the entrusted samples in hand.
"Martha?" a bleary eyed Tom got the attention of his partner and indicated to Time Lord, who was beginning to stir in his slumber.
Kneeling down, Martha tugged the blanket away, slightly, to see the Doctor was indeed still asleep, but not very restfully. He was beginning to moan.
"Doctor, you're alright. You're dreaming." But Martha wasn't so sure it was just that. If he was in pain, it would likely be infiltrating his dreams. It was probably best they wake him up, so he could talk to her. He was really starting to moan quite loudly now.
"Spaceman?" Donna was kneeling down now too. She could see the distress on his features. It hurt her to see him like this. She took his hand in hers and rubbed it gently. "Martha, I thought his hand had healed when during the coma?"
"It did," Martha looked to Donna, questionably. The healing coma should have healed a lot of things. Namely whatever was making him ill in the first place. Why then, was he still so sick? That was the million dollar question. Donna just moved The Doctor's hand over to Martha's. "Donna, it was his other hand that got cut, and it was the inside of his palm, not the back." Martha was speaking slowly, in order to explain, but also because her mind was now racing ten steps ahead of what was actually happening.
"This is a new one then? When did it happen? We've been watching him the whole time." Donna was getting into a state of confused panic.
"I don't think it is new, Donna. I should have given a more thorough examination before. I've seen his hand like this before - the same exact injury. It happened back on Messaline."
"With Jenny?" Realisation dawned on Donna. Just then, The Doctor body began to thrash and he began screaming.
"Okay, Doctor, you have to wake up now." Martha's voice remained calm.
"I've got that scanner you wan- OH MY GOD! WHAT'S HAPPENING TO HIM?" George had chosen that moment to arrive back in the flat, almost dropping the priceless piece of xeno-medical equipment, in the process.
"Shh.. quiet now. George, we are being very calm. This is just a nightmare and The Doctor is going to wake up now, aren't you Doctor? Whatever you are experiencing, is not real. You've got a fever, probably from an infection, that you likely picked up on Messaline, through a small cut you received. It has been sitting in your blood and some kind of incubation and now it wreaking havoc on your body. George here is going to take tests to confirm and we will work out how to fix you. But, right now, Doctor, all you have to do is wake up for me. Can you do that?"
If The Doctor could hear her, it didn't seem to be having any sort of effect, except for making him thrash more violently and scream louder. His weakened body could not take this kind of toll. Already, his hearts' rates had increased significantly and his O2 stats were struggling to be maintained.
Donna noticed just how calm Martha was trying to be, in not wanting Spaceman to panic. To Donna though, it seemed too late for that. She didn't think she had ever seen him panic like this. And well, desperate times, called for desperate measures.
"Wake up!" Donna bellowed, and slapped him.
"Donna?!" Martha was shocked by what the red head had done. The room had become silent. Everyone looked back to The Doctor. He was still; he wasn't thrashing and wasn't screaming. In fact, his eyes had snapped open.
"Oh, ouch," the Doctor grumbled and reached up to rub his reddened cheek and then take off the oxygen mask, but his movements were sluggish. Martha was quicker.
"Oi, leave that on, Mister. You need that. It's just oxygen."
"Don't like it," he complained, but Martha just chuckled at him.
"Are you hurting anywhere?" Martha asked and he reached to rub his cheek again. "Apart from where Dona slapped you," she said, chuckling again.
"Slapped me?" The Doctor's wide eyes moved to Donna.
"You were having a nightmare, Dumbo. We had to wake you up somehow."
"You were getting pretty distressed, Doctor." Tom was standing back from the scene, burly arms folded, assessing the situation. "What were you dreaming about?"
"Don't remember."
Donna eyed him skeptically. "Is that really you 'Don't remember', or just Time Lord Talk for you 'Don't wanna talk about it'?"
The Doctor rolled his eyes, but then winced and hissed, trying to turn over slightly, with stunted results.
"Okay, Doctor, I can see you're in pain, so you had better tell me where." Martha ordered.
"Argh," The Doctor groaned, "Abd- ..omen". He was panting now, his breathing becoming rather ineffective. He was still trying to turn onto his side.
"Keep still for me, Doctor. I'm going to have a feel." Martha moved the blanket right off him and pushed his clothing out of the way, so she could examine him. Immediately, she gasped though, when he skin was exposed. The skin discolouration was spreading faster than before.
The Doctor shivered when the cold air hit his tummy. The movement just made him hurt more. He knew Martha was going to have to palpitate his abdomen, he wasn't sure if he could take it. "Just relax, now Doctor." Noticing how susceptible to cold, he seemed to be at present, she rubbed her hands together to try warm them up. "Tom, get me some gloves from the kit?" She wasn't sure she should be having skin to skin contact with The Doctor, when he was in this state anymore.
Once Martha had snapped on a pair, she began to probe. The Doctor keened and whined. "Keep breathing in that oxygen, Doctor, nice and slowly." He couldn't afford to get into more respiratory trouble right now. "George, are you still here?"
"Yes, mam." George spoke quietly. He had paled at what he was witnessing.
"You should have left by now! What part of I need his test results 'Straight away' didn't you understand?" Martha snapped.
"I was getting the scanner you wanted?" George shakily handed over the device. Martha felt immediately guilty for yelling. She really was trying hard to keep face, but her resolve was beginning to crack. "Thank you, George. I will need this. But now, I need you to go."
"Yes, mam." He answered and left quickly to deliver the urgent samples to UNIT's labs.
Happy, to have something more efficient in her hands, Martha powered up the portable scanner, especially designed for alien species. She was able to take images from various densities of his different systems to examine. She could then remotely send those to UNIT from the device, for a second opinion. She had hoped the scanner would provide her with a bit more hope, but it really did, was show just how significant the extent was of the infection. She didn't know a lot about Time Lord's, but from what she had learned, she was pretty sure all insides shouldn't be turning a nasty shade of green.
"Whatever has infected you, Doctor, it is spreading fast. I think that may be due to your now rapidly increasing temperature. If we're going to slow the progression of the infection, we've got to cool you down. Now, I've got some gel ice packs, here in my kit. They should help. I know you can't take aspirin, but is there any other drug we can use to reduce your temperature?"
"Not.. on Earth," The Doctor managed.
"These will have to do then. Martha snapped one of the packs, to activate its cooling properties and placed it to The Doctor's forehead. Instantly, he screamed. "I know, it probably feels uncomfortable, but it's necessary. You'll begin to feel better soon, I promise." Martha felt awful, watching him like this, but as a human doctor from Earth, who generally practiced on other human patients, with human drugs, she really was doing the best she could do, to help her alien friend.