Chapter Fourteen:
Hazel's POV
"Hazel!" I heard the Doctor bang on my door, "Why are you still in your room! Get up!" A groan was my response and I turned over in my bed. "Hazel? Are you okay?"
"Go away," I croaked, and then fell into a heavy coughing fit.
I heard the door slowly creak open, and then the Doctor poked his head through. His dull green eyes filled with familiar child-like curiosity, "Hazel? What's wrong?"
"Sick," I mumbled. "Really, sick. Go. I don't wanna get you sick too."
"I can't get sick; perks of being a Time Lord," the Doctor replied. "This is probably because you decided to jump in after Rory the other day."
"Nobody else was," I was interrupted by a sneeze, "... Going to." The Doctor gaped at me, his eyes lighting up like a Christmas tree.
"What?" I sniffed, sounded very congested. I hate being sick, it's gross. I thought I had a stronger immune system than this!
"You're invisible!"
I looked down at me hand, "Oh." Trying really hard, I forced my body to go back to normal, but suddenly felt very lightheaded. I gasped, holding my head, "Whoa..."
"You okay there?" The Doctor asked, looking the opposite direction of me. I would have laughed at him for this had the room not been turning upside-down.
"Y–Yeah... Just a little lightheaded." After the room stopped swinging, I tossed the blankets off of my legs, and tried to shakily get out of the bed.
"What are you doing!?" The Doctor asked, "Stop, I can't see you! Where are you going?"
"I refuse to stay in bed all day," I muttered, trying to take a step. Suddenly, the room did a huge 180 and I stumbled back, my wings flapping and accidentally hitting the Doctor in the chest, sending him on his bottom. Meanwhile, I grabbed the side of my bed, hoping to sturdy myself.
"You wings are insanely strong," the Doctor groaned, rubbing his slightly bruised chest. "You need to get back in bed."
"No," I complained, but then gave a heavy cough, rubbing my sore chest.
"You're sick."
"I don't wanna lie down."
"Now, Hazel." I sighed, carefully walking back to the bed, and lying back down in it.
The Doctor grinned triumphantly, "Good! Now, get some rest; I'll bring you some food."
"Yeah, whatever," I grumbled, turning away from him. He rolled his eyes, leaving the room, closing the door behind him.
•••/••/-•-•/-•-
"Okay, Hazel, I have chicken-noodle soup and some medicine Rory said to take that'll help your throat," the Doctor announced, as he walked into the room. I laid sleepily on the side of the bed, the covers kicked to the bottom of the bed, hanging off. "Oh, your visible again, great!"
"M'tired," I whispered, "Aspirin."
"What?"
"I need aspirin," I sniffed, "I have a headache."
"I'll get you some later, right now, you need to eat something." I turned away from him, "Hazel?"
"Not hungry."
"You haven't ate anything since yesterday morning, you need something in your stomach."
"No," I whined much like a child.
"Hazel, come on, you need to eat something." I didn't answer. "Just try a little, okay?" I shook my head, covering myself with my large wings.
I heard the Doctor sigh impatiently, then, he walked over, and tapped on my wing. "Hazel, look at me." I shook my head, which made it hurt even more and cause a wave of vertigo to spread through my body. "Please, Hazel." .
After a few seconds of hesitation, I finally turned to him, my face just peeking out behind my wing. Before my scrambled brain could process, he pushed my wing aside and shoved a ceramic spoon in my mouth. I gagged, trying to move, but he pinned me down where I was, keeping me in place.
"I would much rather use less violent means, but you have to eat something!" The Doctor grunted, "Now, chew and swallow!" Reluctantly, I chewed, glaring at him the entire time.
After I finished, I pushed his hand away. He went to bring the bowl of soup to me, "I hate you."
"No you don't," he grinned, setting the bowl on a tray in my lap along with a medicine bottle and another ceramic spoon. "After you finish eating, taking a spoonful of that, it'll help clear your throat. I'll go get that aspirin and I expect the bowl to be at least half finished when I get back!"
-••/•-/-•-
Doctor's POV
About ten minutes later, he returned with the medium-sized bottle of aspirin. He ratted lightly on the door, knowing not to knock to loudly to cause a even worse headache.
"Hazel? I'm back with the aspirin," he announced, earning no reply. He sighed, opening the door up to see the girl seemingly asleep on the bed. Light snores could be heard from the slumbering girl, along with soft whispering. "Hazel," he called, his voice softer. He walked over, and reach out to gently tap the girl's shoulder.
"Haze—" his fingers barely made contact with her arm before she shot up, the back of her wing smacked him in the face, giving him a mouth full of soft, downy feathers that tasted like sea-water.
He spat, moving away from the girl, he was about to complain about his poor experience with the dirty feathers when he heard a soft sob from the girl. He froze, "Hazel?" Was she crying? Why? Was it a nightmare?
"I'm not her," he heard her whisper softly. "I'm not Hazel..." She choked on her words, "I... I think Hazel's dead..."
The Doctor gave the girl a worried look, "Hazel, calm down, you're not thinking straight. You're sick, you need to lie down."
"She's dead," Hazel muttered in horror. "Oh god, he's going to kill her." The girl gripped her messy Afro-like hair. "We need to find her, maybe–maybe we can bring her back. We need to—"
"Hazel!" The Doctor shouted, and the girl turned to him, her eyes a dark yellow and brimming with unshed tears.
"I'm not Hazel!" She screamed, covering her face with her hands, "Go help her! She needs help! She's going to die!" He refused to listen to her helpless rambling anymore, and quickly tapped her forehead, sending her back in the bed. Tear tracks still stained her cheeks, her mouth turned to a frown.
He sighed, setting the bottle down. This was going to be a long day.
-••/•/•••/
Third POV
For the next several hours, Hazel did not leave her room. Instead, the Doctor and sometimes even Rory came in and out of her room, giving her food — which she could barely hold down sometimes — and medicines. Hazel tried to come out of her bed many times, only to be stopped by the Doctor or Rory. Other times, she would refuse to get out of bed, or eat anything. Luckily, with her weakened state, the Doctor was able to force-feed her food, which she all but liked.
Most of the time, he was able to get her down easily, but a few times, she would accidentally strike him in the ribs with her wings. Now, his chest and back was very sore from being hit so much by her burly strong wings, but either way, she was getting fed, so the Doctor tried not to think about it.
Luckily, progress was being made, the medicines working its way through her system, combating the illness. Before any of them knew it, the majority of the day had passed, leaving all of them exhausted and tired.
Thankfully, Amy had made a delicious pasta for the three to eat for dinner, which the Doctor gratefully thanked the woman for. Later, Amy and Rory retreated to their own rooms, while he tinkered on the TARDIS on the bottom level.
The TARDIS had been rather silent, except for the occasional humming of the living machine, until he head soft feet pattering against the metal floor boards. "Amy? Amelia, is that you? I thought you were sleeping!" He called up there, but he did not hear a Scottish accent answer.
The footsteps slowly dragged themselves down the steps. The Doctor looked over his shoulder to see Hazel, with her blanket in her other hand. "Hazel? Why are you out of bed? Go back to sleep!" Hazel didn't answer, she only moved up close to the Doctor, placing her blanket on the ground, then rolling up in it like a little sausage in a bun, and closing her eyes. "Hazel? Hazel!?"
"You know, back at the School, everyone had been terrified of sleeping by themselves," Hazel spoke up, her tone a bit weary. By the dark bags hanging beneath her eyes, she probably hadn't gotten much good sleep, either being restless or plagued by fever-induced nightmares. "We'd all sleep together, find someway to do so. Sit close to each other in our cages, just to make sure everyone was safe. Sometimes, if we were well enough, we'd fight back against the Erasers who tried to take us away from each other. It never went well, of course. It usually ended in someone getting... Hurt, but we were still really close." Hazel paused, "I... I try not to think of it now, but... They were probably the closest to family I've ever had in my life..." She snugged up into her blanket, which laid near his dangling legs.
The Doctor looked at the girl, who went silent after that, "Hazel... I—"
"Go to sleep, Damien..." She whispered, her eyes closed, "I... I'll watch out f–for Erasers..." Not a second later, the girl had fell asleep, snoozing quietly.
The Doctor sighed, looking down at the girl. She looked so peaceful in her sleep, looking far younger than she was. He almost forgot she was fourteen when she acted so much older and maturer. It was a shame to see someone grow up so fast, but he assumed that because of the situation she grew up in, she needed to know how to take care of herself.
He ran a hand down his face, wondering what truly happened in her past. She sometimes gave clues every now and then, but nothing in detail. Several things had him worried about her, like why she believed that 'Hazel' was dead, even though she was Hazel! He also wondered who Damien was and how she would react if he asked her about it.
•••• / •- / -•• / • / •-••
It had been a few days until Hazel felt better, or at least good enough to stand up and walk around. Her powers had still been a little... Strange. Sometimes, she would sneeze and go invisible again without knowing it, which meant scaring the pants off the Doctor several times, sometimes accidentally.
Hazel had also become a walking, talking magnet at some points, so she usually couldn't walk into the kitchen without expecting several metal objects to come flying her direction. Had her reflexes not been several times more advanced as the average person's, she would have had her head smashed in by a iron frying pan.
But the worse that had been for her was not being able to talk. She had explained why, by writing it out — which had been difficult because her writing looked worse than chicken scratch. It didn't seem like writing, but more of translating hieroglyphics.
Apparently, her voice had been... Altered since getting sick, so if she were to speak she could either kill them or burst their eardrums. The explanation was rather... Graphic, but, all four of them agreed that not talking would be a much better solution than dying from blood-loss. So, she stayed in the library, reading whatever books she could get her hands on.
In the span of a few days, the TARDIS library, which had been usually neat and orderly, had turned into what looked like a literary war-zone. Books scattered all over the floor, some in high skyscraper-like structures. Others balancing on one another, almost like it would demolish the entire mess if it were moved even an inch.
Surprisingly, no one had discovered her hiding place in the library, and had been looking all over for her. It wasn't until a few hours later, that they realized to check the library.
"... Hazel? Hazel, are you in here? You still haven't taken y—what did you do to my library?" The Doctor stared at what used to be his library, his face paling. A dark hand shot out from the side of the room, near the fireplace, which he almost didn't recognize.
Carefully, the Doctor maneuvered around books, trying not to step on any of them. He glanced at a few of the titles, they ranged from 'Dragons, Warlocks, and Magic' to 'The History of the Skrillitane race'. Finally the Doctor made it to Hazel, who was hanging upside-down on the end of a chair, reading a book. "What are you reading?"
Hazel flashed him the spine of said book, 'Red Queen' by Victoria Aveyard. That was a book that came out around 2015 and got really popular. He had read it — more like skimmed through it — himself. It was interesting but rather predictable at some points. "I read that. Do you like it?" She gave the 'so-so' sign at him, reading the last couple pages before tossing the book in the air. The Doctor gave a small shout, but then a small steel hand came from the side, snatching it out of the air and setting it down in a pile about twenty feet from her.
"Smart," Hazel smirked as the hand came back, handing her another book. The Doctor snatched it out of the air before it could leave. He scanned it with his sonic, "What'd you make this out of?" She pointed to a small pile beside her, he leaned over to look. The ink tubes of hundreds of pens laid helplessly on the ground, stripped of all its parts.
"What!? Are those my pens?!" She didn't answer just continuing to read her book the different types of planets. "Hazel! I know you can hear me! You're mute, not deaf!" Hazel giggled silently, and the Doctor sighed, sitting down and leaning against the chair. They were silent for a few seconds, but then Hazel sat up, going over to look at him. Her eyebrows ruffled together and she gave him a questioning look.
"What?" She frowned digging through her poker before fishing a small iPhone out. He had gave it to her because of her... Condition. It was a few years in the future, but it wouldn't hurt, and he'd just take it back when she recovered.
"What's wrong?" The electronic female voice said from the cell phone.
He gave her a look, before giving a short sigh. "Who's Damien?" Suddenly, he was on the ground, Hazel was on top of him, her pocket knife to his neck. Her eyes were dark and furious. Her wings bristled and stiff.
The Doctor's eyes turned to saucers, "Hazel!"
She jumped off him, grabbing her phone, typing furiously. "How do you know that name!?" Even the robotic voice sounded mad.
"You said it the other night. Who's Damien, Hazel?"
"No one."
"You just put a knife to my throat and now you're going to say this 'Damien' is no one!? I want answers."
She glared at the ground, "Was."
"What?"
"He was no one. He's dead, gone, and forgotten. I plan to keep it that way, Doctor. Don't bring up his name again."
"Hazel, just tell me who Da—"
"Do you wish to keep your head attached to your neck?" Hazel spoke in a low voice, her yellow eyes glowed dangerously. It was at this moment that the Doctor realized how much of a threat she could be. Chills ran down the Time Lord's spine. Was this how Hazel really was like? Cold? Ruthless?
"Hazel, I—"
"Don't speak his name," she ordered, leaving the Doctor lonesome in the library.
•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•
Ooo~ tension~! Who do you guys think Damien is? And what do you think of this version—the real version—of Hazel? I like it! It's actually the version that I wanted her personality to be—cold, manipulative, and mean—but then I realized that she would never earn the Doctor's trust if she was like that.
This chapter isn't part of the show—it's kinda a filler chapter—but I wanted some fluff, so whatever~!
I also might have another idea for a fan fiction... I know what your going to say, 'What!? Rita, you literally have 12 stories out! Finish those first!'
I actually have 22 stories that I have written but ten of them I haven't published, and I have a Steven Universe I'm editing—procrastinating .-..
I literally have the weirdest ways of creating stories. One time, I was eating nachos, and then BAM! Black Butler story.
It was a good idea too, but I kinda stopped writing it at some point bc I was watching Naruto, lol.
Anyways, yeah! This one will probably be a Avengers one—no crossover—mainly around Bucky and a OC I have yet to create 😀! It'll take place either during Civil War, or that period between Winter Soldier and Age of Ultron. Be prepared for a hella lot of fluff and stuff like that~!
... I have no life ;-;...
ANYWAYS, that's all for now, my little Ice Pops! I hope y'all had a great summer!
I'll see ya next time and remember...
Don't melt~!
~Happyritas OOO
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Edited: 1/28/17