"What are you reading there?" a voice was saying, or rather, purring, next to me.

I was going to groan something about not reading anything when I heard a young female voice saying, "It's just something from the Storytelling Collective. It's not very good. Even if I overlook the fact he killed my favorite character, it's also incredibly sexist, possibly a bit racist, and another thing, there's too many animal characters in it. That kind of thing only appeals to twelve year olds, and the language is too mature for that audience."

"Did you try sending a message to the author telling him about all this?"

"Why? That would be rude. I prefer to protest silently."

I slowly cracked my eyes open.

I was in a little hospital, a place very white and sterile and smelling of cleaning chemicals.

I've had my fair share of time spent in hospitals, but this one was different.

In addition to the smallness of the hospital itself, the equipment had also been miniaturized for maximum efficiency. They had a breathing machine smaller than a toaster, a wireless EKG machine that plugged into a monitor like those little arcade joysticks you can buy to play every Atari or Nintendo game ever made, and my saline drip was attached to a little mechanical device with spider legs attached to the headboard.

I had been dressed in a hospital gown, albeit a weird alien one that fit me sort of like a toga. The rear side, instead of being fastened with a tie and hanging open, was secured with little magnetic clips like those `magic curtains' they advertise on TV.

I discovered that the purring sort of voice belonged to a nun, of whom I could only see the back of her Flying Nun style wimple, and the other voice came from a teenaged girl with spiky purple hair and goth makeup, who appeared to have broken her arm. One of her hands ran across a glowing piece of paper, tapping something she saw.

She looked up, staring at me. "He's awake."

The figure in the habit turned around, and I could see that the wimple contained a whiskery feline face with a pink triangle for a nose.

Briefly, I recalled a song from The Sound of Music involving kittens and had to repress a chuckle. This nun literally was her `favorite thing.'

This creature approached my bed, handing me a square brown object resembling a candy bar. "Here. Eat this. It will build your nutrient levels back up."

I took a bite and spat it out. It was not candy.

While it presumably contained sugar, it seemed to be simple sugar, and the overall flavor reminded me of liver.

"There there," she purred. "You're never going to recover if you don't build up your nutrients. Eat."

And so I choked the thing down the best I could and laid back on my pillow.

The nun checked my readouts, then walked out of the room.

I glanced at the goth girl. "What's your name?"

"Razor."

I figured that deserved an eye roll. "Right. Razor. Do you know anything about the Doctor?"

"Some," she said.

"Do you know how he died?"

She paused and thought for a moment. "What I heard was, he traveled back to New York in 2001 to rescue people from the World Trade Center collapse."

"Assuming that is possible," I said. "Why would he tell me that no one died? Even if he rescued a dozen people from Building One, there's no way he could rescue all of them from everywhere, including the planes. I would have remembered something like that."

"I don't know. It's just a theory. Others theorize it was the Weeping Angels."

That was the second time I'd heard of those things with no explanation. "And what are they?"

"They're...killer statues that chase you when you're not looking. Of course, all of this is conjecture."

The Weeping Angel idea struck me as one of those fairy tales you made up to scare little kids. If I were more honest with myself, I would have admitted that it scared me plenty.

If such a thing existed, that is.

I heard a little growling noise and thought it was Zanie, but it wasn't her.

The girl was holding what looked like a square marshmallow with arms and a face. The thing squirmed and wiggled in her grip, making soft cooing sounds.

"What's that?" I asked.

"It's called an Adipose. You want to hold it?"

I shuddered. "That's...okay," I said, feeling a bit unsettled. "Have you seen my dog?"

Razor paused and thought. "No."

The nun came back in. I sighed and stared at the ceiling. "When can I leave?"

She grinned like a Cheshire Cat. "When I determine you're ready to leave."

I groaned and closed my eyes.

The nun walked out again.

"So," said the other patient. "What's the story? What are you doing here?"

I opened my eyes, staring at her pet. "A crazy monster attacked me in prison," I said.

Razor smirked, taking out a small glowing rod, presumably to record me. "And what were you doing in prison?"

And so I briefly outlined my adventures up to that point, omitting the part about time looping and being a frog, of course.

"That would be a great idea for a book," she said with a sigh. "Except for the Boy Scout part. Nobody these days wants to buy a book about Boy Scouts. It offends too many people. Plus you have a cairn terrier. If you connect that to the story about you bumping your head, people think you're ripping off the Wizard of Oz. And your love interest!" she stuck out her tongue. "A cyclops thing with a brain! Who wants to read about that! And she's got such a stupid sounding name, too! Desiree the Dalek? I guarantee that's not going to get anywhere!"

I just shook my head in disbelief. "Gee, I'm sorry my life isn't marketable!"

I paused. "Wait. Love interest!" I cried. "She isn't anything of the sort!"

The moment I said this, I noticed a figure in a nurse's uniform marching into the room.

"Desiree!" I blurted.

She whirled and stared at me. "How did you know my name?"

"He's been stalking you," said the girl. "Haven't you?"

I swallowed. "Uh...kinda?"

Desiree smirked a little.

"He's really got the hots for you," Razor said.

I was about to shout no, but I realized the lady wasn't in the best mental state, so I just shrugged and didn't say anything.

She let out a little embarrassed giggle, and I almost thought I saw her blush.

Oh boy, I thought.

Regardless of what she thought of me, it seemed she had visited this little hospital for less than legitimate reasons, hence the suspiciously ill fitting uniform, and the reason why she made a beeline to a locked refrigerated cabinet the moment she set foot in the room.

"You never explained how you knew my name," she said, pressing her palm to the lock.

For a moment, the question didn't register in my brain, due to me being distracted with her, er, how poorly fitting her uniform was.

"Oh?" I blurted as an afterthought. "A...little Time Lord told me."

I'd already attempted to explain the time loop thing to two people, and the skepticism was getting a little old.

To further distance myself from the subject, I added, "Hey, you don't know anything about a giant bomb on this ship, do you?"

She whirled around, giving me a glare that made me think of a one eyed Medusa. "What do you know?"

"Nothing," I said. "I'm just tired of getting blown up, that's all."

"Impossible!" she gasped. "It's not supposed to do that!"

"It's not supposed to do what?"

She shook her head violently. "Never mind." And she turned back around, stuffing her pockets with bottles from the cabinet.

"Did you put the gas in the air system a few hours ago?" I asked her.

She didn't reply.

I heard footsteps, and all of a sudden she got up, yanking the IV out of my arm.

To my surprise, it didn't hurt, since this place had apparently progressed in technology beyond the use of stoppers and needles for IV's.

She pulled me out of the bed, and I staggered, light headed and dizzy, behind her as she led me to the door.

Before I could understand what she was planning, she opened a few cabinets, shoving various medical supplies into my hands and pockets, which, strangely enough, existed on my gown.

"Sorry to do this,' she said with an apologetic smile. "I really think you're a nice guy, and I really do like you, but certain things have to be done."

And then she kisses me on the cheek.

Before I could decide whether to be happy or disgusted, the cat nun walks in, and she darts away from me, yelling about how I'm stealing medical supplies.

I try to protest, but I'm dizzy so my words come out in mumbles, and what is coherent comes out sounding unconvincing..

The next thing I know, she's gone, and Odd Eye is dragging me back down to the prison, throwing me into that same exact cell where I almost died from blood loss.

"You're back," the crystal creature purred.

"No!" I cried in alarm as she leapt at me, but she didn't care.

It didn't matter what I said. A few seconds later, she was sinking her teeth into my neck.

This time when I passed out, I awoke on the floor, right where the thing had left me.

Weak from blood loss, it took a supreme effort for me to shift into a sitting position.

I was only dully aware of the Quarks as they arrived to take us to slave camp.

When they found out I was too weak to even stand, a panel opened on one of the Quarks, and I felt shrapnel ripping through my chest and vital organs.

Everything went dark.