Second fill for the Thirteen Fanzine "How are you not dead?" Whoo!

IF YOU HAVE NOT READ THE FIRST FILL GO BACK A CHAPTER AS I POSTED BOTH FILLS TODAY!

Yaz held the Doctor's cold hand as the Time Lord slept, watching the screen showing her reassuring dual heartbeats.

They were in a hospital room, its single bed next to the big window overlooking a park covered in sunflower yellow grass and blue-green leafed trees. There weren't many people enjoying it, most people would still be recovering from the devastation that had ended less than 24 hours ago.

Graham and Ryan had retreated back to the Tardis to sleep, exhausted after the day's events. Yaz was too worried to sleep, she had napped for a few minutes here and there once the Doctor had been treated but she couldn't sleep until she knew that the Doctor would be alright.

When the Doctor woke up.

Yaz still couldn't shake herself of the memory of when the Doctor was hurt. She knew that she couldn't have done anything differently but she still felt like she should have done more.

She been helpless when the generator had overloaded, exploding and throwing the Doctor, who had been trying frantically to stop it, across the room. She had watched from behind reinforced glass from the control room as the Doctor flew through the air, almost in slow-mo like in movies when the hero jumps into danger to save everybody. But she was not the hero this time and couldn't even save herself.

The last thing Yaz has seen before Graham and Ryan had dragged her away was of the Doctor's unmoving body amongst the rubble as burning debris fell around her. She had thought her dead. Everyone who was there had thought her dead. No one could have survived the initial explosion and subsequent chain reaction that had destroyed the generator complex.

So it was to everyone's surprise and relief that a day later she had been pulled out of the rubble alive. Unconscious, badly injured and barely clinging to life but still stubbornly alive.

The medics had treated her for hours once she had been rushed to the hospital, her three friends pacing the corridors and putting on a brave face whilst talking to people that also had been injured in the events of the last few days.

When the medics had finally come to talk to them their nerves were frayed. They had been told the list of the Doctor's injuries, not pleasant to hear. Broken ribs, a broken arm, concussion, a punctured lung, lots of other internal injuries, so many cuts that she had lost a lot of blood. But she was still alive.

All her injuries had been healed enough to make her comfortable, thanks to their technology, but had stopped before they healed fully. It was best, the medics said, to give the Doctor's body time to recover on its own as the shock of being so badly hurt then artificially healed might be too much.

They also said that thanks to the scan they had taken of Yaz, whose internal anatomy was thankfully was close enough (binary vascular system notwithstanding) for them to use it as a road map, they had healed her unfamiliar anatomy with little difficulty. Without it may have resulted in a different story.

They had been led through the hospital to the room where Yaz now sat, the Doctor pale and still unconscious under the white and silver sheets.

It was a shock to see her so still and lifeless, they so used to seeing her animated and always moving, especially around the console of her beloved Tardis. But here she was, one arm covered in the mottled green-brown of half healed bruises, burns shiny and smooth across a cheek and snaking down a collarbone and disappearing underneath her gown but not the angry red of a fresh injury. Her skin was littered in small cuts and bruises, standing starkly against her pale skin. She stayed unconscious, breathing softly.

Ryan and Graham had stayed for a few hours, chatting quietly before Graham had fallen asleep in his surprisingly comfy chair. Ryan had chosen to take his grandad back to the Tardis and to have a nap for a few hours. He would be back to relieve Yaz from her vigil so the Doctor would not be left alone.

The fingers in the hand she had held since she had sat at the Doctor's bedside suddenly twitched. Yaz sat up straight in her chair, heart in her throat and hardly daring to breath. The Doctor groaned, hand and body tensing as her eyes fluttered open. She look up at the ceiling, eyebrows creasing before turning her head to the figure beside her.

"Yaz?" she croaked.

"Yes, Doctor," Yaz replied, "you're safe and you're alright. We're all alright."

The Doctor seemed to relax before tensing again, slipping her hand out of Yaz's and weakly patted at herself through the sheets.

"Am I still me?"

Yaz nodded.

"You're still the amazing woman I met in Sheffield."

The Doctor sighed, letting her hands flop back onto the bed.

"Good. I like this body. I needed the change, I think."

Silence settled over the room, the Doctor starting to doze off again.

"How are you not dead?" Yaz suddenly said, desperate to air the thoughts that had constantly tumbled round her tumultuous mind since she had been told of the Doctor's discovery many hours before. The woman in question blinked herself awake again and waited for Yaz to express her feelings before speaking. "I saw you get thrown by the explosion. Surely no one could have survived that. And then you had a building fall on you."

Yaz felt a tear fall down her cheek and she roughly swiped it away. But it was not enough, all the emotion she had bottled up exploded and a sob rose from her throat. "I thought you were dead. We all did. I don't know what I would have done if they hadn't found you alive."

The sobs snatched the rest of her words away and tears dripped off her chin.

"Oh, Yaz."

The Doctor reached out with a shaking hand and grabbed Yaz's jacket and weakly pulled her towards her. Yaz let herself be pulled into awkward hug, pressing her face into the Doctor's shoulder in an attempt to stop the tears. She could feel the Doctor's hand in her hair.

It felt like ages passed until the tears stopped and Yaz could breathe normally again.

"You can let go of me now, Doctor." The hand on her head didn't move.

Yaz lifted her head carefully to look at the Doctor. Her eyes were shut and she was breathing deeply and softly.

Yaz gently removed the Doctor's hand from her hair and placed it on her stomach. The other hand that was loosely around Yaz's waist was placed the same.

She smiled, relief finally releasing that knot of anxiety in her stomach.

"Sleep well, Doctor." She said.