Because of the way his hands were cuffed through the railing of the hospital bed, The Doctor was very limited in his movements. If he backed away any further, he'd dislocate his shoulders, which wouldn't help him escape, as Claire Bailey moved in on him. The Doctor was convinced that she was about to kill him with a lethal injection. "Claire, please!" He didn't care how desperate he sounded. "Don't do it!"
"What?" She stepped back from him, a puzzled look on her face. And then the penny dropped. "You thought I was going to kill you." It wasn't a question. It was a statement. "I shouldn't be surprised, really… going on my past form." She took her hand from her pocket to reveal what she had been searching for. "I was giving you this." She handed him his sonic screwdriver. "I took it before Fisher could get his hands on it. I figured if it can destroy computer data, it could probably open handcuffs... like some sort of super, space age, Swiss Army knife."
The Doctor just stared at her, utterly confused. "I must be very badly concussed. You're letting me go?" Claire nodded, indicating a 'yes'. "Why?"
"Because I'm not the cold blooded, murdering killer you think I am." She said through gritted teeth. "I did the most terrible thing to you. And no words will ever be enough to express how sorry I am for that. But getting you out of Torchwood may go some way towards evening the score."
"You've been protecting me since I was brought in here, haven't you." The Doctor finally looked her in the eye and could see the genuine regret for Claire's past actions towards him. "You've lied to your friends for me… risked your job."
"After what happened here today, I honestly can't see myself turning up for work, bright and early at 9 am, tomorrow."
The Doctor played with the settings on the sonic screwdriver and opened the cuffs. He flexed his muscles and rubbed his sore wrists. Relishing his freedom, he momentarily forgot how he'd ended up in a hospital bed in the first place and stood up. Bad idea… very bad idea. The room began to spin around him. It was only Claire's fast movement that prevented him from falling to the ground. He gratefully accepted her help in lying him back on the bed.
"That would be the concussion." Claire sighed, handing him a glass of water. " We're on basic power here so I haven't been able to give you a scan or x-ray to see how bad it is." She pulled her stool over beside him, keeping a regular check through the small glass panel in the door to see if anyone was about to come in on them.
"It's not too bad, honest." The Doctor gingerly touched the bump on the back of his head and regretted it immediately. It hurt like hell. The ache in his head hadn't abated since he'd come around. "It's distracting, but not life threatening."
"I believe you." The sarcasm obvious in her voice. "Because the last thing you want to do is submit yourself to medical tests with me!"
"Now you're getting it." He replied. "Nothing personal, but I don't like submitting myself to medical tests with anyone. "
"I have a fully stocked pharmacy that Boots would kill to get their hands on." Claire pointed to the locked cabinets opposite the bed. "And I'm afraid of my life to treat you with any of them in case I do the wrong thing... That sedative I gave you back when… well, you know. It should have lasted no more than 2 hours. You were unconscious for over three."
"I never was one for following the norms." He found the soothing compress and reapplied it to his throbbing head.
"I've read all this information about you, and not one word is about how you should be treated medically..."
"What information?" The Doctor didn't like the sound of that.
"Torchwood has files on you going back to Victorian times. They showed me several pictures of people purporting to be The Doctor, and none of them looked like you... When I started here, I was quite the little zealot. The Doctor must be stopped at all costs." She parrotted. "And they loved me and the fact that I'd had contact with you. Gave me access to all sorts. All these plots and invasions making it sound like you were behind them. But you weren't were you? You were the one stopping them, not Torchwood. Anyone with an ounce of common sense would have seen that."
"Common sense seems to be in very short supply around here." The Doctor angrily shook his head.
"Of course I had already told them what I knew about your physiology and what you'd told David about regenerating." Claire stopped. "Oh God, David... I have no idea if he's okay or..."
"He's the Prime Minister's son. He's probably locked in with Harriet the secure room in Downing Street." The Doctor tried to reassure her. "Are you two..."
"No. I haven't seen or heard from him since." She smiled ruefully. "And I don't blame him. If I were him, I'd want nothing to do with me either... But enough of me and my pity party. We have much bigger problems, namely getting you out of here."
"I got in easily enough, shouldn't be too much bother getting out." The Doctor grinned.
"Yeah, you'd think, wouldn't you." Claire said drily. The arrogance! They mentioned that in their bloody reports, alright! "After telling them that you had two hearts, they installed sensors all over the building. So unless you can miraculously transform yourself into a pregnant woman..."
"Then I'm not going anywhere soon." The Doctor pursed his lips. "Um… couldn't you be the pregnant woman… what with you being an actual woman, and all that?"
Claire shook her head. "I'm not on the list."
"The list?" The Doctor repeated incredulously. "You have to tell them you're pregnant, like some sort of Eastern European Olympic athlete village? And there was a woman running this show? Welcome to the 1950'sHave a nice repressive day!"
Claire ignored his tirade. "Because I'm the resident expert, I knew you'd end up with me eventually. I planned it all when they brought you in, unconscious." She explained. "I thought for sure your friend Rose would be caught too, or she'd try to rescue you and then because she wasn't on the list, we could pass her off as the pregnant one..." she sighed. "I'm so sorry she didn't make it."
The Doctor wasn't going to start explaining that Rose wasn't dead, merely in an alternate dimension with no way of coming back. He hadn't come to terms with it himself yet. He certainly wasn't going to pour his hearts out to a woman who had recently tried to kill him, no matter how contrite she was now.
"It was a massacre out there. Not just the soldiers either. Med staff, clerical, even the canteen staff... Some poor sod who makes lunch wiped out because of Yvonne Hartman and her damn ghost shifts." Claire took a deep breath to calm herself. "You know what, this isn't helping anyone, least of all you. Fisher or Daniels could be back in at any minute and we need to be ready."
"Right." The Doctor put down the cold compress and swung his legs around to the side of the bed. "I'm ready to try this standing up lark again." Claire stood by as he slowly got to his feet. He grinned proudly as he managed to remain upright. "See. Easy peasy! Now show me your medicine cabinet."
Claire took a small bunch of keys out of her pocket and opened it up to him. He scoured it in a matter of seconds and started grabbing supplies. "I'll have me some of that." He picked up 2 vials of liquid. "Some of that." A syringe with an ominously long needle. "Aaaaand… Yup, definitely some of that!" He took a bottle of painkillers and knocked back two of the small tablets before pocketing the bottle. He turned to Claire. "Get gloved up, Dr Bailey. It's time to see how good you really are."
Claire took 2 latex gloves from a nearby box, as the Doctor sat back down on the bed. "What are you going to do?"
He undid his tie, stuffed it in one of the pockets of his jacket and began to unbutton his shirt. "Well, I'm going to lie back down and have a heart stopping experience that you're going to administer."