Chapter 8: Vacation
Claire wasn't sure how she kept getting herself into these kinds of situations. Maybe she just had bad luck.
Either way, she had to admit that most of her involvement was entirely her own fault. If she saw someone hurt, she couldn't keep herself from helping them without facing a barrage of guilt. If someone asked for help, she couldn't, in good conscience, say no.
And if someone landed a blue box in her living room in the middle of the night, bringing with him the friends who had been missing for almost two days, safe and sound, and invited her to go on an impossible vacation, she couldn't refuse.
He'd claimed it would be a vacation, anyway. She should have known better. Of course nothing could ever go as planned in her life.
So she couldn't help but thinking that maybe she should have somehow expected this: bolting down the narrow hallways of a grimy, secret alien prison, attempting to outrun a troop of angry alien guards.
Luke brought up the rear, shielding the less bulletproof members of their group from the shots currently ringing around them, against the stone. Claire was pretty sure she heard one fly right by her ear, only narrowly missing Jessica in front of her. Fortunately, she didn't think they were like Earth bullets. According to the Doctor, these were far less deadly, typically. Although they were supposedly painful.
"I hate guns!" the Doctor announced. "Stairs, up ahead, almost out-"
Claire could hardly hear him over the scream of gunfire, and her own blood rushing in her ears, and she could hardly focus around the burning of every muscle in her body. Ahead of her, Ianto stumbled, almost taking Jack with him, and Jessica half-pulled them along behind her until they caught their footing again. It looked practiced, routine. Claire had to wonder exactly how often they'd done this.
The second she emerged into the sweet-tasting air, her knees tried to give out on her. She was only able to hold herself up through sheer force of will, despite the relief that overwhelmed her.
Luke slammed the thick metal door behind them, and almost immediately Claire heard bullets ringing against it. The Doctor buzzed his weird green tool at the door, and it clicked. Locked, so it seemed.
"If they've torn holes in my jacket, I will personally destroy each of those guns with my bare hands," he declared, shoving his door-locking gadget back into a pocket. "Come along, we've only got a few minutes until they find a key and burst out to shoot at us again."
"Where the hell are we supposed to go?" Jessica demanded, panting. The Doctor brushed past her, leading the way. Among groans of pain and dissatisfaction, everyone else followed.
"We have to tell the prime minister about the state of affairs in his planet's underground bunkers," the Doctor called over his shoulder. Infuriatingly, he hardly sounded out of breath. "I don't think he'll be pleased to hear about the excess of imprisoning harmless tourists."
"What makes you think he doesn't know about it already?" Luke pointed out.
"That would make things rather messy," the Doctor said, far more lightly than the situation called for. "I don't think that's the case, as he's known for being hospitable to off-world visitors, but if it is then we'll just have to deal with it, won't we?"
"This was supposed to be a vacation," Jessica reminded him. "Claire just wanted to relax on a beach, and drink, and not do whatever the hell this is." They escaped into the tree cover of a nearby wooded area just as the door slammed open, and the stomp of boot-clad feet hit the turquoise-colored grass far behind them.
Yeah, a vacation would have been nice. But, in all fairness, it wasn't everyday that you got to bust out of alien prison and talk to an alien prime minister. Maybe the situation as a whole was less than ideal, but who else could say they'd done what Claire was doing right now? It was almost fun, in a terrifying sort of way.
The Doctor held a finger to his lips, and picked up the pace. With a muted sigh, Claire forced her aching legs to move faster. Viney alien undergrowth clogged what might have once been a path, but she was motivated to keep moving, despite her difficulties, by the sound of voices shouting at the entrance to the forest.
"Doctor," Jack said. His voice bounced eerily among the trees, loud in defiance of his attempted whisper.
"Shh!" the Doctor ordered. Again, he seemed to move a little bit faster. Claire half-leaped over a fallen log, and then immediately nearly tripped over a cluster of those strange, pale orange and blue vines that dominated the forest floor. Trish wasn't as lucky, and her foot tangled in them, only freed after a barrage of breathy swearing and scratching of leather.
Strangely, Claire could no longer hear the shouts of the guards behind them.
"They're not going to follow us," Jack continued, louder. "Doctor."
The Doctor stopped in his tracks, nearly causing Ianto to hit him, and fully spun around in order to properly glare. "What, Jack?"
"This is Wegran's Fever," Jack said. He sounded so grim that Claire tensed on instinct.
"No, it's not," the Doctor said back, impatiently. Claire had never heard him be anything other than confused, tired, or slightly frustrated in the short time that she'd known him, and not really anything but cheerful or intrigued since she'd met this new version of him and learned the reality of what had happened at Jessica's, so it was almost a shock to hear the bite of exasperation in his voice. "Wegran's Fever has dark red vines."
"That's Wegran's Root," Jack told him. "Which is only found in tropical forests." He gestured to the trees around them, which were much like the deciduous trees native to the forests of New York.
The Doctor frowned. "If it was Wegran's Fever, we'd already know," he argued. "Someone would have started showing symptoms upon first contact. And, as you can see, there's plenty to be accidentally, er, contacted." He kicked lightly at a patch of vines to his right, while at the same time leaning a hand against a vine-covered tree to his left.
"Don't do what he just did," Jack announced to the rest of them, more loudly than was strictly necessary. Pointing at the Doctor, he gave each of the others present a look. It struck Claire as wildly concerned, which did nothing to strengthen her confidences. "Don't touch it, don't get stuck in it, don't even look at it for too long, okay?"
"What the hell is it?" Jessica asked.
"It's Wegran's Root," the Doctor insisted.
"It's Wegran's Fever," Jack said, before the Doctor had even finished his sentence. "It's known for causing intense physical hallucinations, and a fever, hence the name. It won't kill you, but it's not pleasant. Which is why those guards didn't follow us. They know better." He glared at the Doctor, who remained defiantly in position. "You know I'm right, Doctor - I used to come to these parts all the time. You're only here, what, once every couple of decades? Max?"
Claire shook her head. "What kind of plant causes that? Wouldn't you have to ingest it for those kinds of symptoms?"
Jack inclined his head in acknowledgement. "Normally, yes. But think of it sort of like poison ivy or oak or sumac - it has an invisible oil on the leaves and vines. If you get that oil in your bloodstream, it can get ugly. The thing about Wegran's Fever is that its oil diffuses straight through the skin. It's used as a weapon in some parts of the universe, for non-deadly force."
The Doctor scratched at his cheek, scowling. "You make it sound so dramatic. You're scaring my companions for no reason, Jack Harkness."
Jack sighed. "Look, if you don't want to believe me, that's fine. Just, to be safe, don't touch it, guys, okay?"
"I already kind of touched it," Trish blurted. She held her hands slightly away from her, her face pinched as if she was trying not to panic. "I got stuck, and I had to pull it off."
Jack closed his eyes. "Well, shit."
"It's not Wegran's Fever," the Doctor assured her. He pushed off the tree, adjusted his jacket. "Jack's trying to help, but he's wrong."
Claire didn't know what was normal for the Doctor, physiologically speaking, but she was pretty sure his cheeks hadn't been that pink a few minutes ago. And a glance at Trish revealed a similar situation, in addition to eyes that, in an examination, Claire might have called fever-bright.
"I don't know," Trish argued, "I feel kind of...itchy. And hot."
"It's a little toasty," the Doctor said. "Warm forest."
"I would argue that it's chilly," Jessica informed them. Claire knew her well enough to recognize the harshness of her voice as worry.
"Doctor, I know you're a genius, but you're also one of the stupidest people I know," Jack said. He didn't even really sound angry; more resigned than anything else.
The Doctor scowled. "Oi! What's that supposed to mean?"
Claire took Trish gently by the shoulders. "Let's get out of here," she said, putting on her authoritative-nurse voice. "We can talk about how stupid we all are later."
The Doctor straightened, brightening up, and pointed at her. "You're a nurse!" he said. "Tell me, do I look feverish to you?"
Claire stared at him, right in the eyes, and snapped, "Yes. Walk."
His mouth popped open in outrage, but before he could summon an argument, Jessica had stomped over and grabbed an arm to drag him along with her as she walked.
"Should we touch them, if they've got that oil on them?" Ianto piped up, nervously, once they'd gotten moving again.
"Wegran's Fever isn't really all that much like poison ivy," the Doctor said. "It's a handy comparison, but not entirely accurate. Once the oil is removed from the leaves or vines it's neutralized, unless it touches skin. And then it's immediately absorbed, so even after someone has had direct contact with it there's no need to worry for yourself. So no need to burn your clothes because Jack's afraid of the plants."
"Looks to me like he's right to be afraid," Luke snarked.
Under her hands, Claire felt Trish shudder. "What's wrong?"
"It's starting to feel like there are bugs crawling on me," Trish sighed. Louder, she said, "I think Jack's right, Doctor. Stop being stubborn." Claire couldn't help but think that she looked like shit. Pale, underneath the flush to her cheeks. Sweating ever so slightly. A little too shaky. She was almost impressed at how quickly the symptoms had appeared.
"Really?" the Doctor tried to turn around to look at her, but in the process almost fell over another scattering of vines. Jessica had to lift him up entirely to get him standing properly again. In the process, however, the Doctor apparently got a chance to see Trish, and whatever he saw seemed to convince him. Claire watched his face fall as Jessica turned him forcefully to face front again.
"We can still go talk to the prime minister, though," he said. "I can do it. I'm fine."
"Uh-huh," Jack said. He didn't even pretend to believe it.
"We can negotiate that once we get back to the TARDIS," Claire decided, still in her nurse-voice. It usually calmed people down, or at the very least got them to slow down and listen to her for a second.
The Doctor threw her a squinty-eyed look over his shoulder that clearly communicated that he knew what she was doing, but that didn't seem to stop it from working all the same. Claire smiled thinly, harmlessly, back at him.
"It's probably only a few miles," Luke reasoned. "That's not too far."
"Maybe we should get out of this forest," Ianto piped up. "Save ourselves the trouble."
"That'll put us out in the open," the Doctor argued. "We shouldn't leave until we absolutely have to. Who knows, maybe our guard friends are patrolling the outer edges of the forest waiting for us to come stumbling out."
Jessica groaned. "I hate that you aren't wrong."
"I rarely am."
Jack scoffed.
Trish was concerningly silent, and Claire tightened her grip on the other woman's arms. "Okay there?"
After a pained exhale, Trish nodded. "Fine." She didn't sound it, but Claire had no idea what to do about it. It sounded like they'd simply have to wait it out. Maybe, once they got to the Doctor's ship, there was something she could do to make Trish more comfortable. Sedate her, or counter the effects of the plant with another medication. Maybe over-hydrating her could flush out the toxins a little bit faster.
Claire hated being helpless like this.
For awhile, though, it seemed like maybe the progression of the illness had stopped. Trish was able to walk without trouble, and although she was still visibly feverish she didn't seem worse off than earlier. They all stepped carefully over vines, and avoided getting too close to any other undergrowth just in case. The Doctor continued talking as if nothing was wrong, delving enthusiastically into the politics of the planet although no one had asked. Only Luke occasionally pitched in, asking the odd question, which thrilled the Doctor to no end. The rest of them walked in near-silence, listening, and, in Claire's case, keeping an eye on her patients.
She began to think Jack had been exaggerating a little bit. Trish and the Doctor still seemed fine, even after walking nearly two miles. Tired, in Trish's case, but Claire couldn't exactly say that she was full of energy, either. The Doctor was the only one of them apparently unaffected by the journey, as he was still walking with a spring in his step.
Claire's only warning that the relative ease of the moment was about to fall was Trish's tiny stumble. It was just that - tiny. Hardly noticeable. If she hadn't already been sick, Claire wouldn't have paid it much attention at all. However, given the situation, Claire took at second look as Trish righted herself, and felt her heart leap into her throat.
Her eyes had gone glassy and unfocused, and Claire knew that they were out of time.
"Stop!" she ordered. "Everyone, stop!" Their little party ground to a stuttering halt, and everyone turned to look back at Claire in confusion. Most of that confusion faded, however, as they all laid eyes on Trish, who had begun to sway a little despite Claire's support on her arms.
Jessica left the Doctor's side to rush to Trish's, letting the other woman lean into her and take some of the weight off of Claire.
"Oh, not good," the Doctor said.
"Believe me now?" Jack snapped. The Doctor scowled.
Claire gently nudged Jessica aside to give Trish a more thorough once-over. With a little prodding, Trish eventually focused on her, and even gave a watery smile. However, within moments she seemed practically unable to support herself, and Jessica had to hold her upright while Claire finished her quick examination. Trish's heart was a little too fast, and her skin was hot to the touch. She kept doing that shudder from earlier, apparently still feeling the nonexistent bugs all over her skin, and she had trouble listening to Claire's questions or directions after a little while.
"I feel like I'm being poked with a thousand needles," she said, when Claire requested some description of her symptoms. "And I'm tired."
"We've got to be close now," Luke assured. "Right?"
"Maybe another mile," the Doctor guessed. "Not much farther." He seemed a little too fine, but Claire wasn't going to press the issue. Not when Trish so obviously wasn't.
"Let's keep moving," Claire said. "Jessica, if you carry Trish we can get to the ship sooner." Without hesitation, Jessica transferred Trish to a fireman's carry, and gestured impatiently for them to start walking. Trish grumbled a few token protests, but soon went suspiciously silent.
They walked.
Claire's entire body ached. It became harder and harder to dodge the patches of Wegran's Fever in their path, and as they marched along it only became more frequent. They walked through a stretch of forest where the entire forest floor was layered with it, impossible to avoid. Sure, the Doctor had claimed it wouldn't linger on their clothes, but he'd also claimed it was something entirely different, and so Claire was appropriately pessimistic.
By the time the Doctor started accidentally wandering off the path, the trees had begun to thin, and Claire thought she could see the distinctive blue of the ship on the horizon.
Everyone else was preoccupied with their own exhaustion, or maybe the Doctor unexpectedly veering off in another direction was just normal. Whatever the case was, no one stopped him. Claire, however, was a little more suspicious, and she forced her half-numb feet to a light jog to catch up with him. Just in time, too - she grabbed his arm to catch his attention just before he hit a vine-covered tree, and managed to keep him from touching it.
"Whoa there," she said as she turned him to face her. Even without an announcement, everybody slowed around them, and she stopped hearing the sound of feet hitting the ground. The Doctor gave her a confused look, much like the one that Trish had given her not twenty minutes earlier, and the weak smile that followed did little to stop the comparisons there.
"I'm okay," he told her, but he was leaning into her nonetheless.
She decided to go along with it, figuring maybe he might cooperate more if she pretended to believe him. It had worked with stubborn patients before. And he looked confused enough, judging by her cursory examination, that he might be more inclined than usual to believe her act. "Okay," she allowed. "We're almost there. Maybe I'll walk with you anyway. It'll make me feel better," she added, just as he frowned.
To her relief, the frown dropped, and he gave her another of those little smiles. "If you want to."
Claire led him back to join the others, keeping her touch light on his arm to lend the impression that he was leading her instead. She continued to keep him on track as they trekked the last few yards to the ship. Now that she was touching him, she could feel him shuddering like Trish had, although his were more like tremors than anything else.
Behind them, Trish hiccuped a sort of sob that had Claire's insides clenching.
"Shit," Jessica said, loud enough that the rest of them stopped once more.
Claire squeezed the Doctor's arm. "I'll be back," she told him. "Stay here with Luke."
Hearing her words, Luke stepped forward to take her place. Ianto and Jack hovered nearby, both wearing nearly identical worried frowns.
Jessica had already lowered Trish down by the time Claire made it over to them. Not completely to the floor, as vines still appeared here and there, but to an unstable standing position. Probably uncomfortable, but it would do for Claire's purposes.
"Trish," she said, taking Trish's too-warm face in her hands. "Tell me what's wrong."
Trish hiccuped again, and a tear spilled free from her eye. And Claire knew Trish well enough to know that this was a very bad sign. "Hurts," she grit out through clenched teeth.
"How?" Claire pressed.
Trish just shook her head.
"There's nothing we can do," Jessica snapped. "Let's just get to the TARDIS."
Claire nodded her agreement. "We might be able to help her there," she said. "Sedate her to help her sleep, at least." Jessica inclined her head sharply, not quite a nod back. Claire hung back with Jessica and Trish, allowing Luke to take charge up ahead, and they stumbled the last leg of their journey.
It took several moments for the Doctor to get his key and open the doors, and a lot of anxiety-inducing fumbling, but they all made it inside without further incident. Claire was all too relieved to have the doors closed behind them, separating them from more misfortune.
"I have a med bay," the Doctor said, without prompting. He'd left Luke's side to head for the back of the console room, where Claire presumed more rooms awaited. She followed close behind, with the others trailing tiredly along.
Under other circumstances, she might have enjoyed their trek through the ship's hallways - they were alien enough to be awe-inspiring, and so long and winding that she was impressed by the impracticality despite herself. With their situation, though, she didn't have time to properly appreciate them. The moment the Doctor led her into a room, she forgot about them entirely.
It looked like a hospital - a tiny one, condensed into a single room. She saw five beds, sterile and white, lined up against the far wall; what looked like an MRI machine in the corner; a corner full of cupboards and counters and drawers off to their immediate left; and an examination table to their right. Claire headed straight to the left, hurriedly opening cupboards and digging through drawers.
"What do you need?" the Doctor asked, unexpectedly close.
"I'm thinking sedation is best," Claire told him. "You two can sleep through the worst of it. There's nothing else I can think to do."
He opened a drawer she'd already rifled through, and produced a syringe and a bottle of some clear substance scrawled on with alien letters. "Ta-da!" he said, with a grin. "I can be organized."
"Is that safe?" Claire double-checked. He was visibly ill, cloudy-eyed and flushed, and he swayed a little too much for her comfort.
"Oh, completely," he assured her. "Small dose only, though."
Claire decided to trust him, for a lack of anything else, and accepted the materials, taking the time to also grab a second syringe from the drawer. Jessica had already set Trish up on one of the beds, fortunately, so that part was done. Claire grabbed the Doctor's arm with her free hand, despite his protests, and pulled him unsteadily toward one of the beds neighboring Trish's.
"Sit," she ordered, while he eyed her unhappily. It only took a couple moments of glaring for him to listen, and hop up with surprising agility to perch on the edge of the mattress, legs swinging over the side. It would do. Claire plucked the syringe off the bedside table, and began to prep Trish's makeshift treatment.
Turning, she found Jessica half-holding Trish upright, attempting to get the other woman to lie down. Trish was putting up a decent fight, despite her fever-induced weakness and Jessica's inhuman strength. It helped that Jessica was afraid of doing further damage, but judging by the exasperation on her face, Trish's time of clumsily pushing away Jessica's hands with any form of dignity was running out.
"Trish," Claire said, with more patience than she'd probably ever felt in her life. "Can you please lie down?"
"Why?" Trish asked. She seemed genuinely confused, which only served to twist Claire's stomach in worry. And although she wasn't crying anymore, there were lines of stress on her face that had Claire wincing sympathetically.
Claire finished prepping the needle. "I'm going to help you go to sleep, okay? When you wake up, you should feel much better."
Trish's face smoothed, just slightly. "That's...probably a good idea."
Jessica took the opportunity to lift Trish clear off the bed and lie her flat. Trish made a pained sort of sound, hard enough to listen to that Jessica's jaw visibly clenched. Claire, fortunately, was a little more used to cries of pain, but that didn't stop her biting the inside of her cheek. "Hold still," she ordered. "Small poke." Claire couldn't help but be relieved that Trish didn't flinch, though that spoke volumes about the rest of the pain she was probably experiencing. With the sedative administered, Claire discarded the syringe and took a deep breath.
"I'll be here when you wake up," Jessica promised. She hastily pulled up a chair to sit properly at Trish's bedside. Not that it made much difference, as Trish was already closing her eyes, and within moments would be dead to the world.
As Claire watched her relax, she was finally able to relax a little herself. Her first priority had been dealt with. She wasn't expecting the Doctor to cause too much trouble - he was stubborn and dismissive, but he also didn't seem to be feeling the effects of the plant as intensely as Trish, and he at least now seemed to understand the severity of their situation.
So as she prepared the next needle, assuming he'd rather be sedated as well, she wasn't expecting Jack to call, "Doctor, where are you going?"
Claire turned just in time to see him disappear out the door, with Luke halfway across the room, clearly intending to follow. The moment Luke stepped into the hall, however, he stopped cold, glancing around. Claire watched his shoulders tense, and her stomach clenched.
"Stay here with Trish," she told Jessica, who scowled like she wanted to argue, but clearly also knew better than to leave Trish's side.
"He's gone," Luke explained as she joined him. Jack was right behind her, with Ianto tagging nervously along. "There's no way he could have managed to get out of my line of sight that fast by himself."
"The TARDIS must be helping him," Jack determined, bewildered.
Luke shrugged. "I don't know why she would, but there must be a reason."
Right. The ship was alive. Trish had mentioned that.
Right on cue, the lights overhead flickered, and Claire felt a vibration in the floor. It sounded suspiciously like a verification. In other circumstances, she would have been spooked, but she didn't feel at the moment like she could afford to let the creepiness hold her back.
"I think we can take that as a yes," Luke said.
"We can't let him get too far," Claire decided. "He can only get worse from here."
"Jessica and I can hold down the fort here, while the rest of you go searching," Ianto offered. "He's probably just looking for something."
Jack very nearly smiled. "You could be right."
Claire hoped that was the case, but she had her doubts. "Even so, we shouldn't leave him on his own. It'll be faster if we split up," she said. "Meet back here in twenty minutes, whether you've found him or no."
"Well, I saw him turn that way," Luke said, pointing to their left. "We'll all start off going that direction, and branch off from there?"
Jack nodded. "We'll be back soon," he promised Ianto. Then, with a grin, "Don't wander off."
Ianto rolled his eyes. "Go on, then."
Claire, despite the situation, was a little warmed by the interaction. Things would probably be fine, anyway, she tried to assure herself. The Doctor was a lot of things, but stupid wasn't one of them. Maybe Ianto was right after all, she thought as they headed off. He was probably going off to get water or something, and was totally fine.
The moment they all separated though, she felt a lot less certain.
The hallways were wide, and a little too dark to feel totally safe on one's own. She could still hear Luke and Jack's footsteps echoing creepily against the metal, to boot. Nonetheless, Claire straightened her back and walked, looking for some sign of a trail.
It didn't take long.
The moment the footsteps faded entirely from her hearing, a light at the far end of the hall flickered - fast and steady. It looked eerily, heart-stoppingly intentional. Claire bit her tongue, hard. And then she approached it.
She stopped underneath the light, sweaty-palmed and more unsteady than she would ever admit to anyone. Not a moment later, it stopped its flickering, and another light further down started.
After a moment of debating to herself, Claire sighed. "Why lead me, and not Jack or Luke?" she asked the ceiling. It felt crazy, but, in all fairness, she'd done things that were arguably much crazier. "I mean...I've only been here a day. A little too soon to be picking favorites, isn't it?"
The whole hallway hummed. It wasn't like before, where she couldn't hear anything, could only feel the vibration in her bones. This was a sound - a rich, resonating hum, like machinery warming up for work. The new light's flickering increased in frequency.
Claire supposed this was the closest to "come along" that a sentient timeship could get.
"Okay," she said, almost more to herself. "I'm coming."
The lights led her merrily along, around corners and even through rooms. Until, at last, they lit up an entire doorway - an open one, one that glowed with a familiar orange. Before she'd even entered, Claire knew it was the console room.
And she knew, with a sinking stomach, what she would find there.
It was as bright and strange as when she'd first seen it, but it was now completely empty. She listened for some sign that the Doctor was below the platform, or hiding somewhere, and looked for a flash of tweed, but found nothing.
As she hesitantly descended the steps to stand by the panel of controls, she heard a loud click.
She glanced to the blue doors, and found that one of them had cracked open, seemingly of its own accord.
Claire closed her eyes, and forcefully tempered her rage. "I dared to think he was sensible enough to not wander off in a fever-induced haze, but maybe that makes me the stupid one here," she sighed. Upon regaining the courage to look again, she found that the door's opening had widened.
There couldn't be a clearer invitation.
"Okay," she told the ship. "Okay, I get it." She wrapped a hand around the nearest railing, until her knuckles whitened and it hurt. Then, she released it and shook her head exasperatedly. "I just want to know how the hell it is that I'm always the one who keeps having to take care of crazy hero-types."
The TARDIS hummed. It sounded like encouragement.
Claire took another breath, and then walked. Away from the console, down the steps, and out the doors. The moment she was clear of them, stepping back onto the planet's strange blue-green grass, they closed behind her, and locked again.
She looked down, and found clear imprints in the grass and undergrowth leading the rest of the way out of the forest.
She was starting to get an idea of what the Doctor was intending to do.
"I'm going to kill him," she declared, and set off.
Not 100% happy with this chapter, but better that it's up! :) Pardon the late night update. Part 2 in a couple of weeks!