Wordlessly, the Doctor offered her a glass of water soothe her parched throat. She nodded in thanks, popping a breath mint to get rid of the sour taste in her mouth. She regretted it momentarily when her stomach churned again, but thankfully, there was no second round of throwing up. Once was bad enough.

Pressing the cool glass to her forehead did nothing to ease the pounding behind her eyes, but she was allowed to pretend, wasn't she? A warm blanket was draped over her shoulders. Rey always hated lying down when she was sick. It made her feel trapped and helpless. Even now she kept expecting to look to the left and see an IV stand. But if she was standing or even sitting, she could be sure she wasn't back in Nevermore. Any illness there meant confinement to bed rest, possibly with sedatives if the patient needed encouragement.

"Are you sure you don't want me to run a scan?" The Doctor kept balling his hands into fists and then unclenching them. It was a classic sign that he didn't know what to do with them. If she were anyone else, Rey was sure he'd be touching her. Holding her bare hands, maybe taking her temperature or rubbing her head. But since she wasn't anyone else, she was grateful that he didn't touch her. The Doctors hands were warm, but with her concentration so foggy, she didn't think warm hands would be enough to distinguish his from anyone else's.

"It's the new treatment they have me on," she said quietly before drinking some more water. Every word was like a knife to the throat. "Dr. Usher said I'd feel a little off for a while until I stabilize."

She shouldn't have told him. The Doctor's frown deepened, the way it always did when he was reminded of her situation. Disapproval, and while she could tell it wasn't directed towards her, old habits died hard.

She wondered where Amy and Rory were. A few of Amy's jackets were lying around, but she'd neither seen nor heard the other girl since she jumped. This was probably during the time where she and Rory stopped living permanently in the TARDIS, then. So it was just her and the Doctor for now. Rey was a little relieved. She didn't know how she would handle being around anyone else right now.

The lights in the room dimmed, and the usual hum of machinery died down. Rey patted the wall in thanks. She didn't want to be in her room, and even thinking about books right now made her head hurt more, so that meant the library was out. In the end she and the Doctor had settled in the console room. He was supposed to be tinkering again—there was the usual maintenance to do, and Rey always found watching and listening to him work relaxing. Normally they sat in silence, her with a book and him with his tools, and the only interrupts were the mini explosions he caused.

He was distracted now; he kept looking over at her where she sat on the stairs.

"Can I ask you something?" She must have been more out of it than she thought since ordinarily, she never started her questions like that.

"You can ask me anything," he said with false cheer. "You know me, I'm an open book."

Rey closed her eyes, leaning her head back against the wall. She heard a light clanging and almost thought the Doctor had gone back to work until she heard a rustle and felt the air near her shift. Cracking open her eyes, she saw that he had joined her on the stairs a couple of steps down, leaning back against the railing. With his legs stretched out and her arms at her side, it would be simple for her to shift her hand a little and brush against his calf.

"Is it about what happened on your last trip?"

"In a way." She'd told him she'd come from Shakespeare, and he got that quiet, faraway look in his eyes again. Neither of them mentioned Bedlam, but neither of them had to. Anyway, that wasn't what she wanted to ask him.

"When Lilith was trying to curse us, something she said made me remember something I'd thought I'd forgotten from my childhood."

Her childhood was vague in her memories, likely because the days were so similar. Even eidetic memories sometimes faltered in the face of monotony. In any case, she hadn't considered it much of a loss. She remembered the important stuff—what she had read. What did it matter if she couldn't remember specifically what she'd done on April 11th when she was five?

"What did you remember?" The Doctor kept his tone light and his voice soft in consideration for her head.

"I don't have a lot of possessions. Or I didn't, before I met you." She had collected a number of souvenirs by now. Most of them were gifts from the Doctor, from there more memorable or peaceful travels. Like any other person who grew up with little and the threat of having what they owned taken from them, she hid the most important ones in a box under her bed rather than leaving them out for anyone to see and take. It wasn't that she thought someone would actually steal them, but it was more comforting to keep them hidden.

Where was she? Her thoughts had gotten sidetracked again. "There is this raggedy old doll I have back in Nevermore. I've had it since the hospital, since as long as I can remember. I still don't remember where I got it from, but I remember why it looked familiar. I had an imaginary friend with I was a kid…"

Did she— no, could she have jumped when she was that young? Was that even possible? Was the first time they met not in the Ood Sphere, but when she was still just a kid? If so, why had it taken so long for her to jump again? And why couldn't she remember? Something as amazing as that she would have burned into her memory so she'd never forget.

Moreover, why wouldn't he have said anything?

"What's your question?" It was barely louder than a whisper, but it hung in the air like a cloud.

And suddenly, she was scared. Would things change if he answered yes? Would their interactions be different? Would she look at him differently? Rey felt like she was standing on the edge of an abyss, and she could take that step into the unknown, or she could turn back and walk along the lit path of what she did know. Because this was what she knew: she knew that she had feelings for the Doctor, even though she was never going to tell him. She knew that the Doctor cared for her, like he did all his companions. She knew that if she left things as they were, she could keep traveling with him.

And she knew the one truth that trumped everything: it didn't matter what his answer was, because it wouldn't change anything else she knew.

"No, never mind."

Just a short update, but we've got some important plot-related happenings going on. A belated Happy New Year to all you folks. Stay safe.