interoception (noun) - the feeling of knowing what is happening in your body, for example if you are hungry, thirsty, warm, cold, etc.
Graham takes care of the Doctor after learning that her ectospleen hasn't quite recovered from the sonic mine incident on Seffilun 27.
Set after the events of S11E05 - The Tsuranga Conundrum | Part Two of The Somatosensory System
Work Text:
Graham was in search of a good cuppa.
Or at least he had been.
He had been en route to the kitchen when he heard someone groaning in frustration and decided he ought to check things out. Frustration wasn't particularly abnormal in the TARDIS, and he expected that following the noise would eventually lead him to Yaz stuck on a research problem, or Ryan struggling with his studies for his NVQ, so he took his time wandering through the halls in an attempt to follow the increasingly insistent groaning.
It wasn't until he arrived in the console room that he realized the groans he'd been hearing were coming from the Doctor - who was laying on the floor clutching her side tightly - and the sight of a grimace on her face made it finally click that the groans were ones of pain rather than frustration.
He rushed down the stairs calling, "Doc, are you alright down there?" as he rapidly approached the woman who had just let out a yelp as she'd turned to see who had entered the room.
"Just my ectospleen still resettling." She groaned back as she adjusted her position again so she didn't have to turn her head as far to look up at him. "Turns out organ movement isn't on any of my lists of things I'd recommend - though it's not nearly as bad as when I've only got one working heart. Organ movement's much better than organ failure."
Graham stared back at her, his expression a mixture of confusion and horror. "I beg your pardon?"
"I truly don't understand how you lot get on with just one." She continued unperturbed, her hand that had been clutching her side slowly moving up to rest on her stomach instead. "It's downright pitiful."
"You look like a human on the outside, but I'm getting the sense that on the inside there's some differences." Graham observed gently, uncertain from experience how much she would be willing to share.
"Oh there's a whole lot of them." The Doctor replied dismissively. "I'm not working with lungs - they're not efficient enough for a binary vascular system - there's a bit of telepathy in my nervous system, my eyes and ears are far more useful than yours–"
"Oi!" Graham protested indignantly.
The Doctor had the good sense to school her amused expression as she apologized for the unintentional slight. "Sorry. I didn't mean it as an insult, truly."
Graham nodded in understanding as he knelt down next to her. "What are we meant to do for an ectospleen then?" He asked patiently. "You're in too much pain for me to just sit by and do nothing. I've got some aspirin in my–"
"No!" The Doctor shot up instantly, moaning loudly in pain at the protests from inside her body in response to her swift movement. "Definitely not. Deathly allergic."
Graham rolled his eyes as he reached into his pocket for his phone so he could take notes. "No aspirin, got it. You really ought to have one of those wristbands if it's that severe an allergy, Doc."
The Doctor squinted at him in confusion. "One of what?"
"You know, the bracelets and such that we use to let emergency services know we've got a medical condition." Graham pointed to the small red symbol on his watch band. "Paramedics would need to know I'm in remission in an emergency so I've got one."
"That's quite clever." The Doctor praised as she examined the intricate symbol. "A bit archaic technology-wise - you'd think that in the twenty-first century they would've gotten around to embedded biodata already - but either way I'm not sick, I'm an alien. Probably not the best idea to advertise it on my corpse in the case of incidental aspirin ingestion."
Graham grimaced at the brashness of her response, but he couldn't deny her point. "Fair enough." "So I guess I'll ask again, what do we do for a resettling ectospleen?"
"Rest." The Doctor groaned in frustration, her expression an obvious dramatization of her opinions on such a prescription before she sighed and added, "And fluids."
"I was on the way to the kitchen for a cuppa." Graham offered her a sympathetic smile. "How 'bout I go get us both one and some biscuits as well?"
The Doctor muttered something that sounded like a protest under her breath before he shot her a glare and she sighed dramatically. "Fine, but only if you get me—"
"Custard creams." Graham finished for her with a smile, taking the time to make sure she was well supported against one of the stairs in the console room by a large cushion and blanket that the TARDIS had provided before taking his leave.
When he returned just over ten minutes later he found the Doctor right where he'd left her and he softly announced his arrival to prevent another surprised shift of the woman's body before he crossed the room and settled down next to her on the floor where the pair continued chatting quietly as they took their tea.
It wasn't until the Doctor bit down a bit too harshly on her final biscuit that he finally asked, "You doin' alright, Doc?"
"I can just feel and hear… everything right now." The Doctor admitted with another grimace as she handed him her now empty plate to set out of the way. "You'd think that an ectospleen displacement wouldn't make such a difference given how small it is, but I swear my heartbeats are being broadcast on a loudspeaker and my pulmonary bypass system feels cold as ice."
"I know what that's like." Graham chuckled as he polished off the final Jaffa cake from his own plate. "Chemotherapy does some wacky things to your body and I went through a period where I swear I could feel the blood pumping through my body."
The Doctor pulled a face for a moment before taking another sip of her tea and lamenting, "Twenty-first century Earth medicine is practically barbaric."
"You can say that again." Graham agreed readily. "I certainly don't miss it."
"I can't remember if I've asked before, how long have you been in remission?"
"Just over four years." He replied with an obviously forced grin while his eyes betrayed a mixture of pride and sadness. "Though with all this time and space traveling we've been up to that's more of an estimate than anything."
The Doctor nodded knowingly as she handed him her now empty mug when he held his hand out to retrieve it from her shaking ones. "I know that problem well. After a couple thousand years of it I've stopped trying to keep track of all those sorts of things."
While she'd mostly meant her statement as a joke, it was obvious it hadn't landed as intended when Graham's shoulders stiffened as he placed their empty plates and mugs on the edge of the stairs behind them. They sat quietly for a few moments before Graham broke the silence that she'd been praying would continue long enough to naturally force a change in topic.
"After Grace's funeral you told us you'd lost your family. I can't imagine that makes it easy to try and remember any of it, but I think you might owe it to yourself to try anyway." Graham spoke quietly, setting his hand gently on her shoulder before pointedly adding, "And you ought to take care of yourself when you're unwell."
She blushed at his advice, but nodded in agreement anyway. "Thank you, Graham. For everything."
"'Course." Graham dismissed her with an easy smile. "That's what family's for, eh?"