"Time you enjoy wasting, is not wasted time" - Jon Lennon
There are all types of mysteries floating unsolved across time and space. Some are simple, some are ironic, and some of them are sinister enough to tear everything you believed in apart.
This the account of the third.
Everyone knows the Doctor could never resist a good mystery, no matter how dangerous or ridiculous. If it promised a good adventure, he was in, feet first. This is the story about the Doctor and how he solved the wrong mystery at the wrong time. A mystery sopping in rain, drama, love, and heartbreak.
The mystery in which they both suffer.
In which a crazed author takes doctor who and turns it into a thriller.
The sound of a gasp ripped the stagnant air and broke the sacred veil of silence.
Sluggishly, her eyes fluttered open. The sudden noise had frightened her, but only when her lungs began to burn did she realize the gasp had been her own. She was wheezing—choking—fruitlessly attempting to fill her empty chest with desperately needed oxygen.
Within seconds, the gasping had stopped and she was silent. Her body laid limp across the bed, sheets damp, sticking awkwardly to her wet skin. She looked around, dazed, like her eyes were filled with stars and she was attempting to process the universe burnt into her corneas. To her disappointment though, she wasn't looking at stars. She was staring at an empty ceiling. Depressed and decrepit, filled with age-old cracks.
Her brows knitted together in confusion as she slowly dragged herself into a ragged sitting position. Her spine slumped, but her head was still hanging backwards, studying the strange looking ceiling. She didn't recognize this ceiling. This ceiling wasn't her own, rather, belonged to someone else.
Her head lolled forward now and things slowly became a little bit clearer. She was laying in a room—a long, thin atrium—lined vertically with dozens of symmetrical hospital beds. Each one was empty, but looked to have been used at some point in their melancholy existence. The ghost of a heavy body laid imprinted in the white mattresses, still dipping where the patient would sleep for several hours a day. Briefly, she shut her eyes, wondering if when she opened them, this would all be gone.
She opened them, but she was wrong. She was still here, and she didn't want to be.
Attempting to take an easing breath, her lungs burned miserably in response. She stopped, tenderly cradling her torso in her arms with a heavy groan of pain. It suddenly dawned on her that her body was fervent with agony—no—it was in torment. Utter torment. It was burning up from the inside out. Every joint, fiber, and bone ached gruesomely at once. She winced her eyes shut. Knuckles turning white, she gripped at her rib cage and doubled over sending a mop of sodden, brown curls cascading over her eyes; curtaining her twisted expression.
If it weren't for the fact that breathing was burdensome, she might've considered crying, but what was the point? People only cried as a sign, a silent plea, for someone other than themselves to save them. But no one was around to see her cry. She was alone.
'Now, Now. There is no point in crying.' She gingerly thought before pushing the slick curls back behind her shoulders. 'Tears get you nowhere. I know you're scared, but you have legs, don't you?' She continued to ask herself, glancing down at the long limbs spread out across the rest of the mattress. 'Good! Get up and use them then! Go find help. Find a phone. Call someone. You can do it, just stay calm. You're stronger than you know'
Suddenly nodding, agreeing with her internal thoughts, she pushed away the heavy blanket and gradually shifted her legs off the side of the bed, but the moment her feet met the chilly floor, she was hissing in pain; her tone shrill and numb. A sudden, horrible shock shot up through her right leg, drilling into every inch of her nerve.
'Oh God, you're hurt.'
She was holding her breath now, nervously gliding her fingers down her calf to assess the damage. By the looks of it, there was a massive, ugly bruise spread across her ankle and thigh, tainting the usual flesh color an absurd purple. She bit down on her tongue, finally letting go of that cumbersome breath before she carefully reached out for a nearby IV pole. There was an IV bag already hanging from it, empty now, but she could tell it had held blood at some point. The edges between the seal and the pocket inside were stained dark red.
She wrinkled her nose in disgust as she weakly dragged it towards her and used it as leverage to stand to her feet. Luckily for her, the other leg was in much better condition, but still somewhat numb. That was to be expected. Her body wasn't the only thing that felt like pudding. Her mind did too. Like a massive bowl of wobbly jello, bouncing side to side without reason, trying to make sense of things, yet remaining confused.
Still hopelessly attempting to regain a piece of her, she forced herself forward, walking steadily across the floor from the bed towards the next room. The door to the expansive atrium had been left slightly ajar, making it easy for her to push it open and leave, but to her disappointment, the rest of the building wasn't much different. It was just as empty and just as old.
So sad. So lonely. So vacant. A ghost wouldn't live here.
Her slender, pale fingers mindlessly tightened around the neck of the pole, dragging it closer till she could lean her shoulder against it. She'd hardly been standing for more than a minute, but it was already becoming a difficult task to upkeep. Her knees mildly trembled as she leaned more of her weight against the wiry IV pole. Despite every horrible discomfort in her body, she pressed on, one step at a time.
'Keep going! Don't worry about anything else. Just keep walking, You'll be okay. I promise.' She told herself with a marginally determined expression. Even the muscles in her face were fatigue.
The exit sat just at the end of the hall. It looked uninviting—almost threatening. Two massive doors, shadowed in an unpleasant darkness. Nothing but the haunting red letters, 'Exit', to breach the confounding black. Despite the insecurity the lack of light brought her, she forced herself to reach out for the door and shove it open.
Something more pleasant met her when the doors parted. Fresh, damp air swooned into her face, hugging her body like a friend. She wished to hug it back. The dazed look in her soapy eyes slowly disappeared, seeping through her veins, and draining into her system as the pain in her ankle seemed to cease in existence. She stared blankly between the open doors and into the surrounding world. Dark and muddy, it watched her with a million glowing eyes that peeked under grey penumbra. She stared back, fearlessly, as she slowly wandered beyond the doors. Each footstep was certain. It was confident. and it was subsequent.
She drifted further out. Her nimble feet trailed down slippery, cement stairs and eventually touched the grass, cold and wet. Her eyes continued to stare into the void. The great nothing. She anticipated another step, but something stopped her.
The voice had been so pleasant and calm, she would have assumed it'd been her own. But it wasn't. This voice wasn't hers to have.
"Excuse me?" The voice said.
Bit by bit, she turned, and amber kissed obsidian. She stared into his eyes. They were veiled beneath curiously furrowed brows, and strands of soft, brown hair. He looked her up and down and immediately smiled. No doubt the most beautiful thing she had yet to witness too. Granted, her head felt devoid of emotions, but from that smile alone, she knew she would love it more than anything else in this world and she didn't even know why.
The man, tall and lithe, watched her with an obvious fascination, and she carefully stared him back. It was evident in those gleaming, auburn eyes of his. They darted across her body, as if trying to properly drink her in before finally landing on the umbrella he held high above his head.
"Haven't you noticed the rain?" He suddenly asked her.
The question burned something sensitive in the back of her head and she blinked in confusion, watching him attentively approach. His footing was slow but certain, as if he were trying to convince her that he had no intention of ill-will. She allowed him to draw near, watching as he held the umbrella above them both now. "The rain?" He suddenly repeated. "Haven't you noticed the rain? You're soaking wet" He commented, gesturing delicately to her hair.
Like a rolling wall of ocean, something inside of her crashed and mixed with the rest of her thoughts. An intrusive tidal wave of realization.
She blinked again, frantically this time, as if to process the extra set of senses that had just collided with her conscious.
He was right.
It was raining, and she was soaking wet. Her hospital gown stuck awkwardly to her mousy frame, and the mop of curls descending her scalp now dangled down her face like sodden, dead leaches. She pushed them behind her shoulders again, quivering as she looked up into his patient face. He was surprisingly tall, and she was astounded that she hadn't noticed this until now.
She offered to take a polite step backward, but pain came pulsing through her body again. His unoccupied hand shot to steady her, fingers wrapping carefully over her shoulder. She opened her mouth to say something, but before she could realize it, she was speechless. So many questions, such little sense.
"Are you alright?" He asked, eyes pooling with concern.
She tried to form words, but nothing came out; vocals reduced to a useless bunch of chords sitting in the back of her throat. He frowned again, the look painted with matter. Perhaps the way a mother might stare down at her injured child. He looked at her, genuine involvement blooming in his chest. "Curiouser and curiouser" he thoughtfully quoted, a small smile breaking his solemn expression. "Well, anyways! No need to say anything. I can tell you're a tad disorientated, so allow me to introduce myself first, yeah?" He calmly spoke, perching the umbrella temporarily between his shoulder and cheek so he might shake her hand. "I'm the Doctor!"
Another nerve in the back of her neck twitched and she raised a brow.
"The Doctor?" She finally spoke, her voice monotone and tired, like it'd never been used once in her entire life.
"Yes, that's right!" He grinned, wrapping his fingers around the umbrella's handle again. "And you...must be a patient!"
"A patient?"
"Well you're wearing a hospital gown, are you not?" He commented as the girl looked down at her body, eyeing the promiscuous dress.
"I hadn't noticed" She admitted, seemingly just as confused. "Do you know where I am?"
The main wrinkled his nose in a sudden sense of blunder.
"Oh...well, I was somewhat hoping you might tell me" He awkwardly commented, rocking back and forth on the heels of his dress shoes. "I ran into a bit of an engine malfunction. Ended up here, wherever here is, but no matter! Let's get you sorted out, eh?" He smiled, taking her gingerly by the arm and leading her back into the hospital.
Once they were out of the rain, he lowered his umbrella and tossed it aside by the door before helping her down the hall again. "You should be more careful, you know! You don't seem in very good shape, and walking around with that nasty injury," He tutted under his breath. "You could make it worse." he paused, glancing down at her wrist, and immediately respiting mid-stride. "WOW! Would you look at that!" He suddenly exclaimed, lifting her wrist to eye-level to gesture to the hospital band clasped around it's diameter. "Purple band, eh? You're a coma patient! Well, well, well!—welcome back to the world sleepy-space traveler. Had a good rest? World's much different now since you fell asleep, so when was that? Not when did the world change—I mean, when did you fall asleep?" He asked before sitting her down in a nearby, plastic chair decorated in wispy cobwebs.
She opened her mouth to answer, but he pressed a finger intently to her lips. "No, no. Don't talk. You just woke up from a long monitored rest. The longest dream of your life. You need immediate medical attention. You sit tight, young lady! I'm going to grab you a nurse." He smiled before turning and sauntering several feet down the hall towards an empty desk where nurses would usually sit, waiting for a patient to require attention. Now it was left unmonitored and dusty. Illuminated by a single, dying fluorescent light hanging directly above.
She furrowed her brows, something wasn't right.
The man approached the desk, leaning his elbow casually against it as he looked around. "Must be busy," He commented to himself before leaning slightly over the desk to peek at the other side. It was entirely empty. Not just empty of nurses, but of computers, files, phones, and equipment.
Much like she, that's when realization caved in on him.
The Doctor's jaw clenched and unclenched as he quickly came around to the other side of the desk, examining the vacant workspace. Nothing but dust, cobwebs, and counter space. He looked up, and an idle pit slowly formed in his stomach. This hospital was as dreary an abandoned mortuary on the moon. In the sense, the moon didn't have a mortuary. At least not anymore.
The Doctor scratched the back of his neck, feeling his hairs stand on end as he looked beyond the shadow drenched hall laid before him. It was practically empty, save for the few equipment lazily left aloft and the few chairs, one of which the girl occupied. She stared at him blankly, seeing as he too had realized the problem here.
"This doesn't make any sense!?" He suddenly announced, not specifically to her, but there wasn't really anyone else to talk to. "Where are all the computers? Where are all the file-y things? The papers and documents and patients records? There's nothing here?" He paused to look up at her, searching her eyes for answers. He walked back around the desk again, carefully approaching her with distracted eyes. He gave her a once over for the second time.
Peachy, raw skin. Tired, impenetrable eyes. Soggy, umber curls; long and snake-esque. She bore only a plain, mint hospital gown, still dripping rainwater onto the floor. She fidgeted anxiously under his stare, unable to look back.
The man fixed his cherry, red bow-tie and stepped closer towards her. She chose to stare at his shoes alone.
"Young Lady," He gently spoke, English accent calm and composed. "What is your name?"
The girl froze, eyes slowly peeling wide with a sudden sense of fear and bewilderment. She held her breath, gaze darting from his shoes to his face. She looked at a heavy loss for words.
Trembling lips parted and she spoke, slow and timid. "I. . . . I don't know"
The Doctor looked down at her dull appearance, first with intrusiveness, and then with compassion.
"Do you remember anything at all?" He attempted to pry, but she shook her head. She was clueless and he could see it in her face.
The mystery came undone at the seams and his mind went flying. Repairing the Tardis's faltering engine was going to have to wait now, as something seemingly more beguiling had come to light.
One Patient, no memories, and an abandoned hospital? This was his favorite part.
