Sometimes, and only in the middle of the night or early morning, Rey could hear the sea.
This was, of course, impossible. Nevermore might have stood upon a hill overlooking the ocean, but the outer walls were soundproof. The floors were specifically built to keep noise contained—something about isolation and seclusion to concentrate on self-healing. They couldn't soundproof the patient rooms themselves, but each was set up to make noise as difficult to carry as possible.
And still, sometimes, Rey heard the sea. She heard the crash of waves, the rush of the tide, and the roar of the current. It was only a small comfort, a reminder that the world outside still existed, but every small comfort counted in a place like Nevermore.
The sounds made Rey dream of water. It wasn't cold when she waded in. There was no struggle to breathe. Brilliant blues swirled before her eyes, some so dark they were almost black, and some that reminded her of the sky. She always felt safe in the water. There were no startling loud noises and no too-rough sensations against her skin.
Best of all, there was no worrying or hiding. In the water, there was no one telling her to emote more or feel less. No stop being so sensitive or smile. There was nothing of the hundreds of conflicting suggestions on how to be "a normal person."
Sometimes, the sea of water became a sea of stars. Beacons of light shone through the blue-black darkness. She trod upon a path of planets until a familiar blue box came into view. Those times she didn't mind waking up because she knew that as safe as she was in her dream, she'd wake up even safer in the TARDIS with the Doctor.
But tonight there were no stars. No planets. No TARDIS. Rey woke up feeling like the sea was still clinging to her. The taste of salt was on her lips, and a familiar sound echoed in her ears. She woke up to the dull grey of Nevermore, to her empty room with no windows, and resigned herself to dull days of therapy and treatments she wished she could refuse.
The knock on the door was like the toll of a gallows' bell. If she was in Nevermore then her days all started the same: with two pills first thing after she woke up, even before breakfast. The days were rigorously structured, leaving no room for deviation. They dragged on and on, blurring from one to the next until she could no longer tell how much time had passed.
She rubbed the sleep from her eyes. The knock was a warning that someone was coming in, not a request for entry permission. She hadn't ever had control of who came in or when, and she imagined that she never would. As expected, the door opened a moment later, regardless of her silence, only it wasn't the usual nurse who walked in.
"Morning. About time you woke up. You know what the doctor said about keeping to a schedule." A familiar redhead handed her two cups, which she accepted numbly on reflex.
"Amy?" What was Amy doing in Nevermore? And why was she dressed like that? The baggy scrubs didn't suit her one bit, the cardigan was too dull for her usual tastes, and she normally took more care when tying her hair up.
"That's Nurse Pond," she corrected in a mockingly stern voice. "Well, go on then." She nodded to the cups in Rey's hand. "The sooner you finish that, the sooner you can eat. Don't you remember? They're allowing you into the cafeteria today."
Except Rey was never allowed out into the common areas. Her meals were delivered to her door by an orderly. The only time she left her room was for treatment or to wash up during her own separate time slot with a nurse to watch in case. If not for the voices she occasionally heard outside her door, she would've thought she was the only patient on the floor.
This had to have been a dream. She needed to wake up. Right now. Wake up, Rey. Wake up. Wake up wake up wake up—
It wasn't like she wasn't perfectly aware of the fact that life went on without her. Rey was one person in a universe filled with people, in a timeline that was always changing. Nothing was put on pause just because she wasn't there to see it through. For the longest time, she had contented herself with a far-off someday. Someday Rey would get out. Someday she would be a part of that life that never stopped.
And then she met the Doctor, and she could no longer be content with a someday.
Jumping was like playing roulette with more variables than what she could account for. Where would she end up? When? With which companion and at what point for them? Had they already met? Were they angry over something she hadn't done yet? What if she let something she wasn't supposed to know yet slip out? There was only ever the Doctor who was constant; ironic for a man who could change his face.
He was her polestar, but he also confused her the most out of everyone she'd ever met. She caught herself looking sometimes, subconsciously. Rey had coped thus far in life by averting her gaze, but he made her want to look. She wanted to see him. Not just the hyperactive, happy parts of him that he often paraded like they were his sword and shield. She wanted to understand all of him.
Maybe that was why his words in the hospital of New New York hurt so much. Because Rey wanted the truth, no matter how bitter or ugly, and this entire time he had been trying to sell her the sweet lie.
Yelling at herself to wake up hadn't worked. Under Amy's watchful eye—and it was Amy, there was no mistaking that—she took her medicine. The staff would find a way to force her if she didn't take it voluntarily. She prepared herself for a tiring day. There was no helping the headache the medicine always gave her, or the lethargy, but she needed to be able to move around if she wanted to get to the bottom of things. She was no help if she was tied to the bed. Again.
Amy excused herself, taking the empty cups away with her. She gave strict instructions to be dressed and presentable in ten minutes. The door slammed loudly behind her, leaving Rey alone and unsure of what to think other than what basically equaled a long string of question marks.
Right. First thing was first. Rey got dressed mostly on autopilot. It wasn't as if she had a variety of clothes to choose from; this wasn't the TARDIS wardrobe. She shrugged on a fresh pair of sweats, a T-shirt, and a sweater that was altogether not much different from her sleeping clothes. Patients weren't allowed clips, pins, or ties in case they tried to get creative with them, so her hair hung loose. A second knock came from the door twelve minutes after Amy left, only it wasn't her who poked her head in this time.
It was Clara.
Just like with Amy, it was unmistakably Clara. And just like with Amy, she showed no sign of realizing that something was wrong. She nodded approvingly when she saw that Rey had listened, like she was a child who needed praise or critique at every turn. Holding the door open, she gestured for Rey to follow her.
The cafeteria wasn't noteworthy. The walls were a dull brown instead of a dull grey, but the floor was the same scratched linoleum of the corridors. The room was larger than she expected. Along the far side was a procession of other patients getting food. Clara led her through it, hovering at her side like a hawk. Breakfast turned out to be a bowl of oatmeal that was too dry, soggy fruits on the side, and a glass of milk that she wouldn't be able to drink. The orderly had glared when she'd tried to deny it, and Clara had given her a pointed look. She had been forced to accept the glass or risk the milk spilling all over her food.
Apart from the servers, two orderlies were stationed at either end of the room to keep watch and make sure no one acted out. She did a double take when she noticed one of them was Mickey. He exchanged a nod with Clara and didn't even look at Rey.
Long tables with benches for seats, all of which were bolted down, were set up at the centre of the room. Rather than leave her to find her own seat, Clara led Rey to a girl she didn't recognize. Her facial features were strikingly similar to Amy's, particularly in her eyes and chin. They could have passed for sisters, even twins at first glance. The only major differences were that this girl's hair was brown, and she seemed to be Asian.
"This is Aria," Clara said. She gave a shy wave.
"Aria, Rey's been here for a while so she already knows all the rules. She hasn't been allowed out into the common spaces until now, so I'm counting on you to show her around, okay?"
Reluctantly, Rey took a seat across from her. They shared an identical breakfast, as did everyone else in the room. The only difference was that Aria's glass was empty. "You're the girl from 4124, aren't you?" Her voice was as light as her namesake suggested.
Rey nodded and made no move to pick up her spoon.
"I'm in 5327. You're not eating?"
"Not hungry." She was exhausted, actually, and the headache was already beginning to build behind her eyes. Besides, how could she eat at a time like this? She needed to figure out if this was a parallel world, if her friends had been plucked out of time and brainwashed, or if she really was in the worst dream ever.
Aria smiled, eyes crinkling. "Probably safer." She emphasized her point by stirring her oatmeal and allowing a large chunk to fall off her spoon. It landed back in the bowl with a loud splat. "But don't let the nurses see you skipping meals or they'll have an orderly sit with you and watch you eat. It's best to move things around a bit so it looks like you ate something."
Rey folded a browning banana slice into the oatmeal and wondered if she'd get in trouble for "accidentally" tipping over her milk. Probably. In fact, knowing her luck, they'd make her get another glass and drink it in front of them before revoking her privileges and sending her back to her room. She was pretty sure her lactose intolerance was written somewhere in her file. She was equally sure that no one cared.
Better not chance it. She poured a bit of the milk out into the oatmeal and dropped her napkin in the glass instead. Then she spread out her soggy fruit like Aria had suggested, making it seem like she'd eaten.
"S-so, um, I don't wanna be rude, but… how come you haven't been allowed out until now?"
The words too sensitive rattled around behind her teeth. Rey swallowed them down and hoped they'd dissolve in her stomach. "Dr. Usher said too much socialization wouldn't be good for me," she replied flatly.
"Oh." Aria's shoulders slumped. "But you're allowed now," she pointed out, trying to find the brightside. "So you must be doing better now, right?"
Was she? Were the treatments working? Was this headache and constant exhaustion normal for people?
No. Even if it was, there was still something seriously wrong. Amy, Clara, and Mickey didn't belong in Nevermore. She was getting distracted.
After breakfast, she headed back to the fourth floor. She expected to have to keep up appearances while she investigated, but then Clara told her that her midmorning therapy session was canceled. She'd gotten distracted before she could ask why.
There were pictures in the nurse's station, set up in a display like the one Dr. Usher had in his office. Former patients, success stories, whatever you preferred to call them. Their headshots smiled back, only it was wrong. It was just like the display Rey remembered, except for the two extra pictures.
"Donna Noble" was printed neatly beneath a photo, and "Martha Jones" was under another.
"Did you know them," Aria asked tentatively from beside Rey. "I hear the nurses talk about them sometimes, when they think I'm not listening."
"What happened to them?"
"Well, Donna Noble's back in the world as 'a functioning and contributing member of society.'" She could hear the quotes in Aria's voice. That was Nevermore's number one goal—patient rehabilitation, they called it. "Only, she doesn't remember her treatment here. She had to forget it all. But Martha Jones remembers. They say she's studying to be a doctor herself right now."
Rey shook her head. "I don't believe it."
"I know," Aria agreed. "I can't believe it either. I mean, who'd want to come back to a place like this after they finally get to leave? A few years ago she was just like us, and now she's toeing the party line."
That wasn't what she meant. First Amy, Clara, and Mickey were employees, and now Donna and Martha were patients too? It didn't make any sense. How did they all even end up here?
"This is wrong."
"W-well, I wouldn't go that far… She's probably trying to help or something."
Rey took in a deep breath. It felt like the walls were closing in on her. "I meant there's something wrong with this place right now. Things aren't the way they should be."
"I… If you say so," Aria said very slowly and hesitantly.
"Do you know where they keep patient files?" She needed to find out more, find out if anyone else had been affected. Right now she had more blank spaces than information. She needed to even the playing field a bit.
Aria brightened up. "Yes, actually! They're on the fifth floor. I always hear Nurse Jenny complaining about having to go all the way up there when she passes my door. Not that I'm eavesdropping, or anything," she quickly added.
"Can you show me?"
"Sure."
They took the stairs up a level. The layout of the fifth floor was pretty much the exact same as the fourth. The walls were the same, the floor was just as scratched and scuffed. It seemed that the only differences were the numbers on the doors. It was almost eerie, if Rey wasn't used to the way the floors of the hospital had mirrored each other as well.
Aria led her to a door at the end of the corridor, room 5317. The name on the placard was blank, and the glass frosted except for one tiny spot in the corner where the spray had been scrapped off. She leaned in close to peek through, spying cabinet after cabinet inside.
Predictably, the handle met resistance when she tried it, signaling that it was locked. "I think Jack is the only one with the keys." Aria turned a shade of red that matched Amy's hair. "I mean, Mr. Harkness. He's the head orderly. Um, he's really nice! I mean, he's not mean like some of the others who look like they don't even wanna breathe the same air as us. But I don't think he'd let you in…" Aria's voice tapered off towards the end, embarrassed and disappointed.
"What are you two doing here?"
Aria spun around and gasped. "Dr. Williams!"
Rey turned at a slower pace. Rory's face was older than she was used to, and his hair was longer, pulled back into a short ponytail. He wore a white doctor's coat with a couple of files tucked under one arm, his other hand holding a tumbler of coffee. She felt something instinctively rebel at the detached expression on his face. Rory was never detached; he always cared.
"W-we weren't— we were just—"
"I asked Aria to show me around," Rey said with her usual lack of inflection. "They finally lifted my restriction from the common areas today. I started to feel sick."
"R-right!" Aria scrambled to agree, nodding vigorously. "I thought I should find a supply closet. For a bucket. In case she got actually sick like she said she might."
She wasn't the most elegant liar, but Rey hoped that her nerves would be excused for a different sort of panic. Rory eyed them both before heaving a heavy sigh, the kind that showed he had too much to deal with and not enough energy. "Are you still feeling sick? I can have a nurse escort you back to your room."
"No, I—" She made a show of walking forward and then stumbling. Crashing into Rory, she knocked his coffee over, spilling it on both of them.
The tumbler crashed loudly onto the floor. Rory yelped and then groaned in frustration. Rey wasn't exactly happy herself with the liquid rapidly cooling and sinking into her clothes. Thankfully, it hadn't been too hot.
Aria darted forward. "Are you okay?! I'm so sorry Dr. Williams!"
She wanted to say that Aria had no reason to apologize, but she had a part to play. "Sorry. I didn't mean…" She made a show of cupping her hand over her mouth, as if to hold back the urge to vomit.
"I need a nurse and some orderlies up on the fifth floor," Rory said into his radio.
His help came soon enough, Amy, Mickey, and an orderly that Rey didn't recognize. "Are you alright, Doctor," Amy asked.
He cleared his throat, face flushing slightly red. Well, it was nice to see that some things never changed. "Fine, Nurse Pond. The patient complains of feeling sick. Would you kindly escort her to her room?"
Remembering she was on the clock, Amy straightened up. "Of course. Come along, Rey. You didn't drink the milk at breakfast this morning, did you?"
"I had some of the oatmeal," she lied.
Amy sighed.
Mickey stood beside her, possibly to catch her if she doubled over, but more likely to force her along if she refused to walk on her own. Rey told herself that this wasn't real; it wasn't the real Mickey who was menacing her. The real Mickey wouldn't.
She allowed herself to be escorted back to the fourth floor. Her clothes were sticky and smelled of coffee, but she wasn't allowed into the showers yet. She tried to mop herself off as best as she could while she changed, reminding herself that it had all be for a good cause. The two paperclips she had secreted away helped to lift her spirits.
It wasn't that much of a reach to play sick. The headache was still pounding away behind her eyes, and she was so tired that she actually dozed for a bit. Someone had come in to bring her lunch a few hours later, and she forced herself to at least eat the bread roll that had come with. Medication and an empty stomach were not a good combination, and she had another dose coming up.
Finally, in the late afternoon with about an hour to go until the evening meal, she was allowed back outside so long as she didn't make another scene. Part of her felt indignant at the condition. Everything that had happened upstairs had been orchestrated, of course, but if she had actually been sick, then it would have been an honest accident with no one at fault.
The recreational room on the first floor didn't much live up to its namesake. Dull, linoleum—she felt like those two words applied to the entire building. On one hand, there were actually windows. On the other hand, they were too far up to see out of, and heavily barred.
A few round tables stood scattered about, each with between three to five plastic chairs that were uncomfortable to look at, much less sit in. All of these things were, of course, nailed to the floor. Aria sat across from another patient, an older man wearing an out of season festive hat. Some sort of board game was sent up between them, but it seemed to be missing over half the necessary pieces to play with. Aria must not have been having fun since she stood and hurried over as soon as she saw Rey.
"Are you feeling better? I'm sorry I didn't notice that you were actually sick!"
There were orderlies watching them here too. The one by the door had her large arms crossed over her chest and had zeroed in on them to glare at. Rey gestured for them to sit at an empty table. Using her body to hide the action, she pulled out the two paperclips she'd lifted off Rory and showed them to Aria.
"Is that… when you bumped into Dr. Williams?"
She nodded. "I'm sorry I almost got you in trouble."
"Are you kidding? That was incredible!" Aria laughed breathily and leaned in. "I've never done anything like that before! Does this mean we're going back?"
Rey hesitated. Aria was nice. She seemed to like Rey for whatever reason, and wasn't put off by her blank face or her strange campaign to get into the patient record room. Involving her would only get her into trouble if this went badly. She knew enough from her escape attempts that no plan could prepare for everything and a rushed one like this was even more likely to fail. She wasn't the Doctor. She didn't have near supernatural luck on her side.
Aria correctly read her silence for second thoughts, and pouted. It was slightly adorable, and the way her brow furrowed actually reminded Rey of Rory. "You can't leave me out now! Besides, I know the best time to go, when everyone else'll be distracted."
"When?"
"Breakfast tomorrow. Its full breakfast day, which means the food will actually be decent, and no one want to miss it. The floor will be deserted. We could break in and then sneak out before anyone notices."
Rey could wait until tomorrow. She was feeling dead on her feet, and it would give her time to think. If she tried to get into the room now, she could get caught, and then who knew how long it would be before she got another opportunity.
Aria chewed on her lip and fidgeted anxiously.
"Okay," Rey agreed. "Tomorrow morning. First thing."
Dinner was a subdued affair, during which she couldn't muster up much of an appetite. The sight of food made her stomach clench uncomfortably, and the few bites she managed tasted like ash. It was only after she was back in her room taking her third and final dose of medication right before lights out that Rey realized she hadn't had any sessions that day.
There had been no therapy or treatments, just the pills they had given her. She had wandered through the corridors, seen the cafeteria and recreational rooms, even made an acquaintance that might have even been a friend, and Dr. Usher didn't so much as call her into his office to ask her what she thought about it.
If nothing else solidified her belief that something wrong, this did. An entire day without Dr. Usher. It was like a dream.
That thought had her wide awake. A dream. For so long she had believed that traveling with the Doctor had been a dream. If she was honest, Rey still hadn't fully accepted it as reality. It just sounded so ridiculous: a girl falling through time, jumping around in the personal timeline of an alien with no explanation how or why. What could that have been except a dream?
The places they went and the things they did were so farfetched. She had the Face of Boe and the Doctor and every companion telling her this was real, and she still couldn't help but hold on to that last kernel of doubt. She couldn't fully believe it no matter how much she wanted to.
But that was the rub, wasn't it? Rey wanted it. She wanted it more than anything she'd ever wanted in her entire life, so of course it couldn't be real. Of course it had to be a dream.
She didn't sleep. Couldn't would have been a more fitting term, actually. The thoughts kept churning around in her head over and over. Real or not? Reality or a dream? By the time breakfast rolled around again, she was even more exhausted than she was the night before. To make matter worse, her headache had taken no time at all to kick in after her morning dose, and she had this itch under her skin that she could neither scratch nor ignore.
Aria looked at her with open worry. "Are you sure you're okay? We can always do this later."
They couldn't. "Full breakfast day" was only once a month, and she wasn't waiting another thirty days so she could get behind that door. If this was some sort of kidnapping and brainwashing ploy then the others might not have that long. Besides, there was no telling when her roaming privileges would be revoked again, or if the orderlies would perform an impromptu search of her room and find the paperclips.
They were very thorough in their searches.
As Aria promised, the floor was empty. Rey made quick work of the lock; she dared to say she was even on the sonic's level with just some tools improved out of paperclips. Luckily, the cabinets were all neatly labeled, so they didn't have to waste time searching through all of them. She found Martha's file first, and then Donna's, both of them filed away in a drawer that labeled them as to be shredded.
It felt wrong to flip through the notes about their diagnosis and treatments, even when she knew that they had to be faked. Rey read enough to corroborate Aria's story: Martha was indeed discharged with a clean bill of health. There was a note added in after her date of release, along with a photocopy of a letter of recommendation one of the doctors had written her.
Donna's file was a little thicker, and multiple parts had been redacted. The concluding remarks listed that while she displayed episodic amnesia of her stay at Nevermore, she had nonetheless made a full recovery and was released for outpatient monitoring until about a year after when she moved. Closing the file and shoving it back inside, Rey wracked her mind for who else could've been involved in this elaborate farce.
It couldn't have been…
Under T for Tyler, she found Rose's file. Aria squeaked, and then slapped her hand over her mouth belatedly. "What," Rey asked. She obviously knew something.
"N-no, it's just… That's Rose Tyler's file…"
She didn't know if it was hope or dread pooling in her gut. "Did you know her?"
"Of her," Aria admitted. "I don't think there's anyone who was at Nevermore at the time who didn't hear about her."
Rey swallowed past her dry throat. Dread it was, then. "What happened?"
"I don't…"
"Please," she asked. She had to know. "Please."
"I never spoke to her, but I heard she was friends with a lot of the others. Everyone thought she'd be released soon, but then… Her family showed up and made this big scene. I heard they came into some money or something? They wanted to move her away to this fancy facility in America or something. Doctor Smith was really cut up over it…"
Rey didn't know what to say. Amy and Clara were nurses. Mickey and Jack were orderlies. Rory was a doctor. And now Donna, Martha, and Rose were all former patients. Whoever was in charge of this nightmare had done an excellent job in picking out all the people she had meaningful connections with. The only person that was missing was the Doctor.
Chatter from outside the door had both her and Aria crouching near the floor. Rey counted seconds and footsteps, but Amy and the other nurse never stopped. She waited until they rounded the corner before gesturing for Aria to follow her out. They had spent enough time inside, and someone was bound to actually come in soon.
Creeping down the corridor first, and then down the stairs, they were almost in the clear. The cafeteria was in sight, buzzing with conversation from stragglers. Aria was quiet, but she was also biting down harshly on her lip to clamp down on her wide grin. The adrenaline rush was clearly hitting her well.
"Rey!"
She stopped in her tracks less than ten feet away from the cafeteria.
Clara looked more disappointed than frazzled or worried. Scrubs didn't suit her much either, and she wore a long sleeved shirt under hers rather than layering something over it. Her hair was pulled back into a tight bun that made her look very severe.
"Where have you been? You're scheduled for a morning appointment today, remember? Nevermind, I don't care, come on."
Her grip was harsh and tight around Rey's upper arm. Her first instinct was to shrug it off, and she might have listened, except this was Clara. Until she knew for sure that it wasn't actually the real Clara Oswald, Rey couldn't lash out. So she let herself be dragged through the halls and back up the stairs.
Clara's radio went off in between the first and second floors. She didn't bother to let go of Rey, as if Rey would run away if she did, and answered it with her free hand. "Change of plans," she said afterwards. "I'm taking you back to your room for now. The doctor will see you later."
She had meant Dr. Usher, but hearing that phrase from Clara's mouth had her mind leaping to thoughts of the Doctor. She didn't want to rely on him all the time—she already relied on him so much—but where was he? Did he know about this? Was this entire set up some kind of trap for him?
Rey had always had heavily incongruent feelings about her room, from the moment she had first been taken to it. It was quiet in there, and sometimes the quiet was good because it allowed her to think and process and be alone without worrying about anyone else's influence. Sometimes it was bad because it reminded her of just how alone she was.
But being in her room meant she had more freedom than being in Dr. Usher's office. She wasn't being scrutinized, held up to some invisible rubric and found lacking, having her every word and action and breath studied and picked apart under a microscope. It was also worlds better than any of her treatments. Rey could lie on her bed or sit on the floor, and she could re-read her books, daydream, or write about the Doctor in her journals.
She went to pull out the familiar blue book, only it was gone. Not just the one she was currently working on, every single one of her journals was missing. She patted the empty space as if to wipe away the illusion, but no. Empty. Nothing. Rey always put them back in the same exact spot under her bed, there was no way she would have misplaced one, let alone all of them.
The orderlies were always very thorough in their searches…
Her door opened without a knock or polite warning beforehand. She didn't recognize any of the orderlies by name, but she knew them by sight. These were the biggest, strongest of the ones in Nevermore, and they wasted no time in resorting to physical methods to corral unruly patients. To no one's surprise, they were the ones that were usually sent when Dr. Usher suspected Rey was in a bad mood.
She didn't fight, but only because she wanted to conserve her energy. Rey really only had enough in her for one, and she wanted to save it for Dr. Usher. He had done a lot to her when he thought she needed a firm hand: isolation, restrictions, increased dosages and longer treatment sessions. But taking her journals was a step too far.
Anger swirled inside her like a hurricane, faster and faster with each passing second. How dare he? How dare he? He was the one who'd given them to her in the first place, demanding she write when he already knew about every damn second of her life anyway. Those journals were hers. Her old name tag had been lost and never replaced. The miniature library was destroyed in the earthquake. All she had left was her doll and those journals.
Bursting through the doors, it was only by the sanctity of her last remaining wit that she didn't immediately demand Dr. Usher give her journals back. It would have been no use even if she had, because it wasn't Dr. Usher leaning against the desk in the office.
It was Aria.
She had changed from the nondescript sweats all the patients wore and into a red pantsuit. Her hair was pulled back into a neat ponytail, and she had makeup on that make her look older. And to top off the new look, she was wearing a white doctor's coat.
In one hand, she held one of Rey's journals. The rest were in a wastebasket by her feet, as if they were trash. Shock and anger fought for dominance, but eventually, anger won out. "Who are you?"
"Allow me to reintroduce myself," she said in that same light voice, only it wasn't the same. There was no hesitance. No nervousness. "I'm Dr. Aria Delmar. I'm sorry for the little song and dance, but I wanted to get to know you without the doctor-patient barrier to get a better idea of your mental state."
"Where's Dr. Usher?"
"Oh, Rey." Aria's expression softened in pity. "There is no Dr. Usher."
What?
Of all the things she could have possibly said, this was the most unexpected. Aria could've claimed that Rey was beyond help. She could have told her that Dr. Usher had moved to a newly rediscovered Atlantis to herd tuna. But for him to not exist?
"I didn't make him up." It would have made sense for her to invent someone like the Doctor, or people like the friends they traveled with. But Rey would have never made up Dr. Usher. Not someone who had that much control over her life. Not someone like him.
"This was what I was afraid of. They warned me your psychosis was prevalent, but I hadn't thought it was to this extend." She set the journal down on the table behind her. "I know it's hard to accept, but the sooner you do, the sooner we can work on a comprehensive treatment plan. You're sick, Rey. And clinging to your fantasies is not going to help."
She clenched her hands into fists by her side. There were orderlies outside. The room was soundproof on account of doctor-patient confidentiality, but there was a button to trigger and alarm underneath the desk. Rey only had one shot at an outburst, and she wanted it to count.
Aria picked up the wastebasket containing her journals. "These aren't helping either. I might have been able to understand you writing about Rose, Martha, and Donna—imagining them having fun and doing well. But Nurse Pond and Oswald? Dr. Williams? Misters Smith and Harkness?"
She pushed off from the desk and Rey automatically tensed, expecting… she wasn't sure what she was expecting. An attack? From who, because she was feeling ready for violence herself. Aria was lying. She had to be lying. It only made sense that she was lying.
Except, wasn't she just saying exactly what Rey had been thinking last night? Wasn't the idea that she had used names and faces she was familiar with and made up a nice story more believable that the idea of her having the ability to jump through time? Didn't it make more sense that way?
"And to put them all with Dr. Smith… I understand that losing him was very difficult for you, but you need to accept that he's gone. He isn't traveling through time and space in a telephone box."
Dr. Smith. John Smith. The Doctor.
"Writing therapy does have its uses, and fiction serves a purpose. I'm sure that's what my predecessor thought when they encouraged you to start these journals. But enough is enough. You need to accept reality, Rey. This is reality."
Aria reached into one of the drawers of her desk and pulled out a box of matches.
"No. No!"
Too late.
She struck the match. It flared up just like it was supposed to. Gravity acted on it, just like it did everything.
Paper was such good kindling.
It's just a dream. It's just a dream. It's just a dream.
Wake up. Wake up wake up wake up. WAKE UP.
Rey grabbed the remaining journal from the desk and ran.
The orderlies all jumped back in surprise from the doors suddenly opening. Every human being had a moment where they were frozen, just processing new, unexpected sensory input, and she took advantage of that to get as far away as possible. Two seconds later, she was almost at the stairs. Three seconds, and the alarm went off. The lights in the walls flashed. A loud noise blared from the klaxons. Five seconds and she could hear footsteps in between the warning wails.
Rey hit the stairs and went up. Up, up, up, past the fourth floor. Past the fifth. Past the six, seventh, eight. Up and up until she lost count of the number of stories, until she hit a dead end. And then she picked the lock and she kept going until there really was nowhere else left to go.
The noise of the alarms cut out as the security door slammed shut. The air was cold up here, and the wind colder. It cut through the thin material of her jumper, through the numb nerves in her skin, and hit right down to her bones. She tasted salt in the air. The roar of the sea echoed in her ears.
Gone. All her journals were gone. All of them except the one she held in her hands.
She looked down and opened it. The wind blew the pages past until it finally settled on a spot near the end. New New York. The Face of Boe and Novice Hame. Martha and the Doctor.
It isn't a dream.
It couldn't have all just been in her head. There was a life and a world and a universe that went on outside the walls of Nevermore. And Rey was a part of it. Rey and the Doctor and everyone. She couldn't have just made it all up.
"Rey!"
Quite a group had been pursuing her. For some reason, Rory was leading it, followed shortly by Amy, and then the group of burly orderlies. Aria was mixed in among them, and something in Rey felt a sick sense of satisfaction with how frazzled she looked.
"Stay away," she warned, backing up until she was only a couple of feet from the ledge.
"Alright, alright!" Rory held his arms in the air in the universal sign of not a threat.
On his word, the thugs stopped advancing. But not Aria. She stepped to the forefront of the group. She had the forethought to hold her hands up as well, but Rey didn't think for one second that she was harmless. "Let's talk about this," she urged in a forcibly calm voice. "Please, Rey. Come away from the ledge."
Cold air, sea salt, and the tide. She could see and hear, smell, taste, and feel in this place just like she could during all her sessions with Dr. Usher, or when she was with the Doctor. But one of them had to be a dream. Rey could imagine a double life, but she couldn't be living in three realities. There wasn't enough of her for three. One of them had to give.
She knew which one she'd pick.
"This is a dream."
"No," Aria insisted. "It's not. This is real, Rey. Anything you do here has real consequences. There's no second chance or un-do. Please, come away from the ledge."
Yelling at herself in her head to wake up hadn't worked. She couldn't sleep last night no matter how tired she was. But Rey could fall. Like a hypnagogic jerk. Falling was easy; gravity did most of the work. All she had to do was lean back.
Above them, the sky was comically beautiful. It was bright blue, dotted with fluffy white clouds, and a sun that looked like it needed sunglasses and a smiley face. Given the choice, she would rather face than then the rocky cliff and relentless waves.
It wasn't so different from when she "jumped." With the wind in her ears, she may as well as have been deaf. Her eyelids were so heavy that she couldn't keep them open any more. She was weightless in the freefall. But she wasn't jumping this time. She wasn't dreaming.
She was waking up.
Sometimes, and only in the middle of the night or early morning, Rey could hear the sea. She could hear the crash of the waves, the rush of the tide, and the roar of the current. The water wasn't cold when she waded in. There was no struggle to breathe. Brilliant blues swirled before her eyes, and she felt safe.
Sometimes, the sea of water became a sea of stars. Millions of lights shone like beacons, beckoning her forward. They promised adventure. They promised sights beyond her wildest imagination, joy brighter than an O-type star, and yes, sadness, anger, and shame, but also hope deeper than she ever thought possible. She trod upon a path of planets until a blue box came into view.
When Rey opened her eyes, she was in the TARDIS.
Shelf after shelf, each filled with book after book, greeted her. The lights were dimmed, but there was enough to see without struggle, and she felt so warm and content that she almost fell right back asleep. But first, there was someone she needed to see.
Picking her way through her piles of books, she exited the library. The walk to the console room was short. When she arrived, Amy, Rory, and the Doctor were just picking themselves off the floor. "Good morning."
"Rey!"
"Did you get sucked into a strange dream too?"
She nodded. "But we're all awake now."
"What's that," Amy asked, indicating towards the six glittering objects cupped in the Doctor's palms.
"A speck of psychic pollen from the candle meadows of Karass don Slava. Must have been hanging around for ages. Fell into the time rotor, heated up, and induced a dream state for all of us."
Rey held the door open for him. He smiled sadly as he passed her—part apologetic, part relieved—and blew the dust out to the universe.
"So that was the Dream Lord then," Rory asked. "Those little specks?"
"Dream Lord," Rey echoed as she closed the doors. There was no Lord in her dream. "Isn't psychic pollen supposed to be parasitic?" Was she remembering wrong?
"No, no, Rey's right. Wasn't it obvious? The Dream Lord was me. Psychic pollen feeds on everything dark in you. Gives it a voice, turns it against you. I'm 907. It had a lot to go on."
That made sense. The dream had preyed on Rey's deepest doubts and fears. She wasn't nine centuries, but she wasn't exactly all sunshine and daisies either.
"But why didn't it feed on us too," Amy asked.
"Please, between the pair of you and me? Why go for the TV dinner when there's a full course ready and available?"
"But those things he said about you. You don't think any of that's true?"
What things?
"Amy," the Doctor said with finality, spinning her around. "Right now a question is about to occur to Rory. And seeing as the answer is about to change his life, I think you should give him your full attention."
He gave her a small push towards Rory, and then walked over to the other side of the console where Rey was. "Bad dreams," he asked.
She nodded.
"Sorry. You shouldn't have had to deal with that on your own."
"I worked it out in the end," she reminded him. "I realized some things."
"Oh? Do tell."
She mustered up a smile. It felt stiff and weak and small, but it was more than just a twitch of her lips and it lasted longer than a split second. The Doctor's jaw dropped wide open, and he missed the console as he leaned to the side. The fall shook him out of his daze, and his cheeks colored a deep red.
Rey offered him a hand up off the ground.
He cleared his throat when he was back on his feet. "Right, so… Well then, where now?"
Rory looked dazed, and Amy looked as shy as Amy could look. Rey wondered what had happened in their dreams, and what life-changing question had occurred to Rory. She'd get the story out of the Doctor eventually.
"Why don't you pick, Rey," Amy suggested. She and Rory were holding hands with their fingers laced together.
Rey glanced at the Doctor. "Let's go…"
And so ends my first full-length mostly original content chapter. I won't lie, I'm super nervous about how you guys react to it. Was the tension believable? Did it feel rushed? The symbolism too ham-fisted?
There is definitely going to be a new Doctor Who story featuring a new original character sometime this year from me. Well, I say original character, but I sort of co-opted her existence from the source material. Kinda. I've been writing some chapters for her on the side and I have to say, it's very easy to get sidetracked while writing for one character thinking about how the other would react in the situation. Let's hope there's no bleed-through and everyone stays in the story they're meant to be in.