Vignette 5: Burn
The Doctor ran the vitals meter across Zoe's forehead then checked the reading.
"98.6. Normal."
"I didn't sleep well last night either," Zoe commented as the Doctor touched the meter to her upturned wrist.
"Hm. It might just be a touch of the sun."
"I wore sunscreen and took adequate breaks in the shade of the umbrella … my stomach has been feeling a bit odd, too … Doctor, do you think it's possible to become allergic to a person? And if so, could it develop suddenly?"
"No, Zoe. One can, perhaps, be allergic to what they're wearing, like fibers or a perfume—But to Jamie himself? No, I don't think so."
Zoe opened her mouth to protest his assumption but then closed her mouth, because it would have been pointless. There were only the three of them and it was clearly not the Doctor causing the problem.
Jamie suddenly walked in, and rather stiffly, at that.
The Doctor raised an eyebrow. "And what's wrong with you?"
"I-I dinnae ken, but my skin feels like it's on fire!"
"It looks like it's on fire," the Doctor observed dryly. "How red you are!"
"Oh, Jamie, you're sunburnt!" Zoe exclaimed. "I told you to put on sunscreen, but of course you didn't listen …"
"Aye, aye …" Jamie nodded wearily. He hated it, but she was right, as usual.
The Doctor glanced down at the pulse meter still at her wrist and observed elevated numbers. He glanced at Zoe who was shaking her head at Jamie in exasperation.
Probably just irritation.
Jamie suddenly seemed to notice the situation he had walked into. His expression of agony morphed into concern.
"Wha's the matter with Zoe? Ye feelin' ill?"
"I think Zoe got a touch of the sun as well," The Doctor supplied. "But," he turned back to Zoe. "I think you'll be fine. Jamie's clearly had it worse. Would you be a dear and fetch the aloe ointment from the cabinet?"
"Of course."
Zoe hopped off the examination pallet to fetch the pump jar of clear, viscous liquid.
The Doctor motioned for the Highlander to sit in the stool he had recently vacated. "Alright, Jamie, let's see the extent of the damage."
Sucking air through his teeth in pain, Jamie had begun to roll his loose linen shirt up, but then he stopped and looked around the Doctor at Zoe who was still standing there.
The Doctor cleared his throat. "Ah, thank you Zoe. You may run along now."
"I want to see the extent of the damage as well," she said, as officiously as if she were a nurse at a first aid station.
The Doctor turned back to the Highlander with a raised eyebrow.
"Is that alright with you, Jamie?"
"No, it's no' alreeght!"
"It's no different than seeing you in your swimming trunks, Jamie," Zoe said flatly.
Or chopping wood.
Jamie had no answer to that.
The Doctor assisted Jamie with his shirt to help limit any unnecessary movements on Jamie's part to minimize pain. The moment his upper half was exposed Zoe gave an involuntary hiss of empathy at the sight of the angry red flesh.
"Oh, Jamie …" she groaned.
"Tha' bad, eh?"
"You look like a cooked lobster," the Doctor said, shaking his head.
Jamie gave a rueful grin. "As long as ye dinnae call me a 'lobster-back' …"
"Well, your back is as red as a lobster," Zoe commented.
Jamie moved to grimace at her over his shoulder but changed his mind when the skin around his neck protested.
"It's just a derisive expression the Scot's use for British soldiers."
"One o' many."
The Doctor dispensed some of the aloe into Jamie's hand then moved to stand behind him. "You get the front, I'll get your back."
The Doctor was just about to begin on Jamie's shoulders when he stopped and raised a hand to his forehead.
"Oh! Oh, how stupid of me."
"What's the matter?" His companions asked, nearly simultaneously. The Doctor grabbed a rag and wiped off the remaining aloe. "There's something I forgot to do! Zoe, would you take care of him while I see to the TARDIS?"
"Certainly."
Jamie twisted around to protest, pushing through the pain. "Urgh! Nae, it's fine! Ye dinnae—". The rest died on Jamie's lips, however, the moment he felt her cool hands, covered in the even cooler aloe, come in contact with his feverish skin. He could not help but release a shuddering sigh of relief. His back had received the worst of the sun.
Zoe's eyebrows scrunched in sympathy. "I hope you'll listen to me next time and put on some sunscreen."
"Hm."
"Are you listening, Jamie?"
"Hm-hm …"
Zoe was pleased and surprised he let her do this much—normally he would have impatiently shooed her away by now.
Now that the burning feeling was lessening, Jamie's focus naturally shifted to the sensation of Zoe's fingers on his bare skin.
Normally, this would be the point at which he would tell her to stop, but the need for relief was overcoming his scruples.
Jist a wee bittie longer.
It was with slightly shaking hands that Jamie pulled his dirk from his belt and began to use it to clean under his fingernails, to have something else to focus on.
As Zoe continued to gently apply the aloe it was then she noticed all the scars Jamie had on his body, darker under the sunburn, since scar tissue was less resistant to ultraviolet rays. The majority of the scars were small, but numerous —further reminding Zoe of how different, rougher Jamie's time was from hers.
Forgetting herself for a moment Zoe traced the line of the one long scar that went from his left shoulder blade to the lower middle of his back.
Jamie suddenly flinched then swore softly, popping a finger in his mouth. Probably nicked himself. A lot of those scars could be self-inflicted, Zoe thought wryly.
"Jamie, that's unsanitary," she chided.
"Hrm?"
Zoe stopped and came around to his front. She grabbed his hand and pulled his hand from his mouth and watched as the inch-long slit in his index finger welled up again with blood.
"I'll get the hydrogen peroxide."
Jamie rose gingerly from the stool, making sure his sporran was in place, about to make a break for it.
"Ah! Where are you going?" Zoe demanded, walking quickly back to his side, brown bottle in hand.
"I dinnae need—"
"Sit." Zoe reached out and put a hand on his shoulder, pushing him back down onto the stool.
Jamie grunted in pain. Zoe's eyes widened and she snatched her hand away from his shoulder. "Sorry!"
Jamie grudgingly obeyed.
Zoe dipped a cotton swab into the bottle then, taking Jamie's injured hand in hers she began dabbing at the cut.
"It stings!" He complained but then watched with wonder as a mass of fizzing white bubbles blossomed along the length of the cut. "What's happenin'?" Jamie stared at it, a little disconcerted
"It's supposed to do that. Hydrogen peroxide, or H2O2, kills pathogens through this burst of oxidation and local oxygen production, which is what you're observing. A proper level of H2O2 is an important requirement for normal wound healing."
Jamie sighed. "Why d'ye bother telling me when ye ken I dinnae understand?"
Zoe did not look up from her task but her mouth quirked up. "I never can ken with you, Jamie. There are times when I am sure the Doctor and I are talking over your head, but then you surprise me with what you do grasp."
Jamie was quiet. Zoe glanced up to see his eyebrows were furrowed and his eyes fixed on a vague point in the distance. She knew he was trying to make out whether he should be insulted or gratified by her statement. An irrepressible smile spread on her face, a warm tendril of fondness curled around her heart.
"That was a compliment."
Jamie's gaze snapped back to her; his face lit up. "Oh." His eyebrows then rose in mock surprise. "Anither one? Ye're spoilin' me, Zoe."
Zoe gave a gentle laugh; two soft points of color appeared on her cheeks.
Jamie was suddenly struck by the desire to grab her by the waist and haul her into his lap for a wee courie, she looked so sweet. Jamie shifted uncomfortably and gave his head a shake.
"Stop squirming, I'm almost done." Zoe pressed an adhesive bandage to the cut. "There!" She felt a glow of satisfaction at having taken care of her friend. "Do you think you need more aloe?"
"Nae." Jamie rose up from the stool, his knees feeling a little wobbly.
Zoe also rose and grabbed his shirt, rolling it up to the collar. It was the loose linen shirt with the smocking on the chest and the few buttons down the front. Normally Jamie would have objected to Zoe helping him dress, out of pride and modesty but the searing discomfort involved in putting it on the first time caused him to relent. Jamie obediently ducked his head. Zoe slipped the collar over then she gingerly unfurled the rest down his torso, holding the material out away from his skin as much a she could until it reached his hips.
As Jamie carefully worked his arms through the loose sleeves Zoe buttoned up his collar. When she was done with the buttons, as a finishing touch she automatically smoothed out the honeycomb smocking on the chest. Jamie's hands lightly closed over hers, stopping their movement. Zoe looked up, her heart rate climbing and that warm dizziness was coming over her again. Jamie's eyes were shut tight, his brow furrowed, his lips pressed to a thin line—the look of someone waiting for pain to pass.
Zoe gasped in dismay. How could she already forget he was terribly sunburnt?
"Oh! Sorry!" Zoe hastily pulled her hands out of his loose grip and turned to gather up the supplies. Jamie opened his eyes. They were clouded … but not with pain.
The Doctor stepped in then, coughing into his fist.
"Och, thank goodness," Jamie murmured.
….
Back in the control room the Doctor beckoned Zoe over to one of the open control panels.
"How are you feeling now, my dear?"
Zoe gazed up at the ceiling as she considered. "I was slightly dizzy again, but I don't know if Jamie is the cause, it's not consistent."
"Wha' aboot me?" The man in question demanded, sauntering up to them.
"Zoe thinks she's allergic to you."
"Doctor!"
Jamie tilted his head. "'Alll-er-jik' …?"
"An abnormally high sensitivity to certain substances, such as pollens, foods, or microorganisms. Like some people are with goldenrod or cats or seafood, their presence causing them to sneeze, or break out in hives, or vomit."
Jamie flushed. "What?!"
"Doctor!"
"Weel!" Jamie burst out. "Then I'm 'allerjik' tae her!"
The Highlander whirled around then stomped away to find a corner to brood in.
"Jamie!" Zoe called after him. She then rounded on the Doctor. "Why?"
"I'm sorry, Zoe, but it is such a silly conclusion for you to come to … though I shouldn't be surprised since it's outside your area of expertise and life experience. Though your IQ may be higher than mine—as you are so fond to point out—you still lack in emotional intelligence.
"I cannot walk you through everything, Zoe. This is something you will need to figure out for yourself."
The Doctor's expression then gentled. "You need to use this—" he touched her temple, "—and this," he put a finger to her chest. "Oh, sorry!" He snatched his hand away with a blush. "At least tell Jamie about it, he may be able to help."
Zoe sighed and nodded her head in grudging agreement.
The Doctor smiled and shook his head as he watched Zoe walk away to find Jamie. Although Jamie was around twenty-three and Zoe nineteen they still had so much growing to do.
…...
Zoe found Jamie curled up in a chair, headphones on, Walkman attached to his belt. He was bobbing his head in time to the music.
"Jamie."
He either did not hear her or he was purposefully ignoring her. Probably the latter.
"Jamie, I need to talk to you."
Still nothing.
Zoe huffed. She reached out and grabbed one earphone and pulled it away from his ear. She could hear strains of "I'm On My Way" by the Proclaimers coming from them. He was listening to the tape she had given him for his birthday.
"Jamie, I need to talk to you."
Jamie jumped up and danced away, his voice dripping with scorn. "N-o-o-o, dinnae come near me, I make ye sick!"
"Stop being such a child, Jamie!" Zoe stamped her foot in frustration. "It's not like that!"
Jamie yanked his headphones down so they hung around his neck, the music still going; it was now playing "The Road to Dundee" performed by the Corries.
"Then wha's it like?" He demanded.
Zoe looked helplessly up at him as he stared down at her looking quite put out. She did not know how to explain it—or rather, she was afraid to try.
When no answer came Jamie rolled his eyes and put his headphones back on.
Walking back to the control room Jamie deposited himself in the Jacobean chair. A stray plastic pipe of some sort had been sitting on it before he claimed it and he now idly tried to balance the thing on his nose. Zoe had followed him in and sat down on top of the chest—the same one in which she had stowed away that first time on the TARDIS …
The Doctor was flipping through the views on the scanner. All were various views of the same starfield.
"We're, ah, definitely in this region here … or alternately here." He switched the view again. "Just look at it!" He enthused. "A billion silver ships in an ocean of infinity … No matter how many times one sees it, it still takes one's breath away! How humble and insignificant one feels against the awe inspiring majesty of the universe, eh, Zoe?
Zoe, still fuming over Jamie's attitude, was having trouble drumming up her usual enthusiasm for her favorite subject.
"... Oh, yes. Yes … yes, indeed …"
It seemed that every time she and Jamie shared a peaceful, harmonious moment together, something or someone would inevitably come along and shatter it.
The Doctor, meanwhile, seemingly oblivious to the continuing drama that he caused, continued to wax lyrical on the stars.
"What could one possibly say in the face of such infinite beauty except perhaps—"
"—When do we eat?" Jamie broke in dryly.
"Oh, Jamie!" Zoe exclaimed in exasperation.
….
*courie- a snuggle, a cuddle.
A/N: And thus, in those last few paragraphs, begins the "Lost Tale", "Prison in Space" which I highly recommend; it's funny, suspenseful and thought provoking. I posted a link on my Tumblr account (Concetta20), you can buy and download it from Big Finish Productions website. It was an unused script recommended by Frazier Hines to be turned into a radio play, which they did, starring him and Wendy Padbury reprising their roles beautifully and Frazier doing an uncanny imitation of Patrick Troughton. Seriously, it's spooky how good it is.