He didn't know where he was. He didn't know what was wrong with him. His memory was vague hints of shopping and presents and cake. Every inch of his body hurt and he didn't think that it was possible to be as tired and as worn as he felt. His throat was sore and dry and it felt cracked and like he needed something to drink. He needed water, but he barely had the energy to open his eyes never mind think about getting a drink.

When he did dare to open his eyes the lights in the room he was in were dimmed. He blinked. His eyes didn't want to stay open at all. His chest ached and hurt and he didn't feel like he could move. He didn't know where he was but he could tell that he was in a hospital. He could feel the rippling of a mattress beneath him and hear the whirr of monitors. He could smell cleaning fluids and sickness and a faint floral perfume. He felt like his mouth had been filled with glass and that it was being dragged up and down his throat as he breathed.

He turned his head to see if there was any one he could ask for a drink. He didn't think he could be feeling as bad as he was and not have someone close by even if he was in hospital. He didn't want to think about what they had done to him to make him feel how he was feeling. He tried to lift his hands to his face to see if he had actually regenerated but he didn't feel like he had the physical strength to do it. He groaned with the effort.

His eyes were slow to focus in the room. There was someone beside his bed. It took him a few moments to process what he was seeing with what he knew. When he realised who it was beside him he felt an immense relief wash over him. It was Martha. She'd not let them do anything to him. For a moment the relief and the fatigue were more significant than his thirst and his eye lids sunk to block out the view of Martha beside his bed. She'd not immediately jumped up and the lights were dim and he managed to rationalise that she was asleep.

He didn't know how long he had blanked out for, but he coughed. His whole chest alighted with flame and tightness that left him feeling like he couldn't draw breath again. He wheezed and coughed again. Blimey it hurt so much and it made him feel like his lungs were collapsing in his chest just so that he couldn't cough again. He needed to know what had happened to him. Even if he wasn't sure he would be able to stay awake long enough to find out. He needed to know it and he was thirsty. So thirsty. He coughed again. Not the quiet subdued coughs of before but a deep barking hacking cough that brought a harsher agony to his chest. He didn't want to do that again. He groaned at the pain. How could just breathing hurt like that?

"Doctor?" Martha eased herself up to stand beside his bed. She looked down on him. His eyes were bloodshot and glazed but they were open. "Hey? Hello there," she commented and caressed his head. "I can't tell you how good it is to see you there," she offered.

"Thir… sty?" his voice was as cracked as his dried out lips. He was wheezing and not breathing as cleanly as he had been while asleep.

"I bet you are," Martha offered. There was a beaker of water on the bedside table with a straw in it just in case he did wake up. She held the straw to his lips so he could sip the water. "Nice and slowly, Doctor," Martha warned. She let him have a couple more mouthfuls of water and then she put the cup down again. She had a clean tissue on the bedside table and she dipped the corner of it in the water and then used that to dab his lips for him.

"More?" he wheezed. Martha gave him another drink. He drained half the beaker in little sips and then faded back into unconsciousness again. "Well done, Doctor," Martha whispered and caressed his head for a few minutes to make sure that he was comfortable and asleep again. She then called the night medics in to change the oxygen mask over for a nasal line and to note that he had woken and had a drink of water and then gone back to sleep again.

Over the following two days the Doctor only woke for short periods at a time but he was regaining his strength. He was becoming more interactive in the periods when he was awake and by the end of the third afternoon he was able to sit up against pillows for a while. It was only then that he noticed that his arm was in a sling which he supposed was linked to the pain in his shoulder, but more importantly he noticed that Martha had her leg in a cast. He wasn't sure how that fit with his memories of what had happened. There had been no real discussion of it yet. They did not want him to get overly stressed by the events when he was still in the earliest stages of his recovery.

"Martha?" the Doctor waited until she was alone in the room again. There were often different medics in there with him and Martha and he had not realised why. Now it made sense. She was there for him, but if she had an injury she would not be on duty. She should not be on duty. Not even for him she should be resting and getting better. He knew that in his head, but his hearts were clinging onto the fact that when Donna left and Jack left that Martha remained there with him and she was the one telling everyone what to do and how to look after him.

"Hey, what can I do for you?" Martha asked him. She had thought he'd gone back to sleep. She got up from her chair and hopped over to his bedside.

"Your leg?" he pointed toward the lilac cast poking out the bottom of her cargo trousers. "What happened?"

"I broke my bleeding ankle," Martha commented and rolled her eyes. "Can you believe it? It's not serious though. Just the lateral malleolus and it's being treated conservatively so I guess I'm lucky it wasn't worse."

"How?"

"I was being winched off a boat onto a helicopter in the middle of the ocean and the sea was really rough and we didn't get off cleanly because of the waves and I hit the deck of the ship pretty hard," Martha advised him.

"Boat?" the Doctor checked and then he frowned. He closed his eyes for a moment as if he was thinking. "Was I… on a boat?"

"Yeah, you were, but, I think we should wait before we have this discussion," Martha told him.

"Why?"

"Because, we need to have a proper discussion about it all and I would rather do that when you have recovered enough to string at least five words together without having to stop for air," Martha told him.

"I can do that…" he offered and then realised that was only four words. "See."

"Hmmm," Martha just rolled her eyes at him and then caressed his head. "What do you remember?"

"Shopping with Donna," the Doctor advised. "And scanning and…" he frowned. "Bylaxians?"

"You contracted a virus, Doctor," Martha told him. "It has made you incredibly ill, but, despite all odds you are recovering now and you're doing better, but it is going to take time. It has taken a significant toll on your systems, but you're getting better every day now. We were monitoring your survival an hour at a time when we first got to you. You were very sick indeed."

"My memories are… all fuzzy," he admitted as his eyes began to close again. Martha caressed his head as he slipped back off to sleep again. His exhaustion meaning that she wasn't yet drawn into telling him that he was so sick because he was deliberately given the virus in order to turn him into some kind of antibody farm.

A further week passed before the Doctor was more able to cope with being awake and sitting out of bed for a while. There was scar tissue on his lungs and his hearts were still recovering from the damage done by the virus so that meant he got tired very quickly, but when Donna had come in that morning he had already been awake for half an hour. He had been bathed by one of the nurses and he'd had some breakfast. Just toast with marmalade. He found eating tiring and draining but he had to get used to doing it again. They weren't going to keep him linked to a drip forever and he was getting bored and frustrated with the length of time it was taking him to heal.

"Come on then, Spaceman," Donna suggested as she pushed a wheelchair into the room.

"Where are we going?"

"Well, Martha is happy enough with you for her to take a day off," Donna advised. "So, she has gone home for the day, so I thought we would finish what we started and go shopping," Donna commented. "Then you can come and explain to my mother why I didn't get her a birthday gift or a gift card but why I didn't see her for her birthday either." The Doctor looked aghast at the idea and she laughed. "Course I'm not taking you shopping or to see my mum. Do you think I'm that cruel?" she asked of him.

"I'd hoped not."

"Dumbo. We're going to get some fresh air. It's a nice day and you've been cooped up for far too long. There is a cup of tea and a piece of cake with your name on it just in the canteen and then we can take it out onto the terrace and have it in the sunshine. What do you think?" Donna prompted. "Better than stopping up here in bed?"

"Yeah, I think so," he agreed but eyed the wheelchair with a degree of suspicion. He struggled to manage the couple of steps from bed to the chair hanging onto a nurse so he knew he wasn't going to be able to walk down for tea and cake, but a wheelchair? He swung his legs round over the edge of the bed. He had ridiculous stockings on that the nurses had to fight to get on over his legs. It didn't help that Donna couldn't help a little giggle each time she saw them. They were bottle green and she didn't think they could be any more offensive for him. She took his trousers from where they were folded at the side of the bed. He had got dressed himself the previous morning but the effort in doing that had left him exhausted so Donna assisted him. He had a trousers and a T-shirt on. Donna had got used to helping him out. She attached the oxygen line that ran to his nose to a portable oxygen cylinder which tucked under the seat of the wheelchair so it was going to go with them. She attached the drip to a pole at the rear of the wheelchair so that would still run without being hindered.

"You set?" Donna checked as she made sure his feet were on the footplates.

"I think so," he confirmed though just moving from the bed and helping Donna to sort him out had left him feeling a little tight chested and breathless. He made sure he breathed in through his nose before he started to get dizzy. His bypass and any reserves he had as a Time Lord had been decimated by the virus.

They were in a military hospital managed by UNIT and run by Martha. Donna took him down in the lift and to a canteen that had been arranged like a café. There were three other injured people there. They were in UNIT clothing but not that associated with active duty but they appeared to be some kind of training issue with tracksuit trousers and a T-shirt with a UNIT emblem on it. The Doctor looked down to the T-shirt that he had on. He'd not realised it was the same.

Donna took him out beyond the café and to a vacant table on a sun terrace. There were planters around the area with large green leaved jungle plants that looked quite spectacular. It was well maintained and it was pleasant. The sun was warm but not too bright. "Are you okay here for a moment if I go and get the drinks?" Donna checked with him as she pushed him up to the table.

"Yeah, thank you," the Doctor confirmed. Donna left him there and then went out to the canteen counter and picked two slices of stodgy looking chocolate and fudge cake. She also got a banana for the Doctor. She got herself a latte and him a pot of tea. She had to wait for a moment as they needed to go flush the latte machine out. Donna leant on the counter and made sure that the Doctor was alright. She wasn't surprised to see that he had already attracted attention, she just hoped that the soldier who had approached him could see that he wasn't going to be up to anything significant.

"You're the Doctor," the soldier commented. He was standing on his own two feet but he had a cane and was leaning on it as he stood.

"Yeah," the Doctor confirmed.

"It is good to see you out of bed," the soldier offered. "We were all very concerned when we received the briefing and found out how unwell you were," he advised. "They were very worried that you weren't going to make it. It's good to see you up and about."

"Not sure I would consider it up and about yet, but thank you for your concern," the Doctor offered.

"Would you mind if I sat down for a moment?" the soldier checked as he leant on the cane.

"Not at all." The Doctor didn't think he had any option to agree. He couldn't very well tell an injured soldier that he couldn't sit down for a minute could he? "What happened to you?" he checked.

"The Sontarans," he confirmed. "That's why I wanted to come and talk to you. I'd not have intruded otherwise I can see that you're still poorly," he offered. "I just wanted to say thank you."

"Thank you?"

"I was injured by the Sontarans. I received a glancing blow with one of their weapons," he offered and pulled his shirt up to receive an ugly looking scar that scored through his abdomen and across his chest. The Doctor could see it matched the horrible wounds inflicted by the Sontaran weapons. "I was in a holding position up in the roof of the warehouse and when I got hit I fell and broke my femur which is why I've got this," he raised the cane. "I know that it's nothing like what those bastards did to you, Sir," the soldier added. "I just wanted to say that I am very grateful for what you did during the Sontaran attack. If it was not for you I'd be dead, we'd all be dead. If there is anything we can do for you, if you are going to make a move against the people that did this to you, then there are plenty of us who will be behind you."

"Um, thank you," the Doctor confirmed.

"I will leave you to it," the soldier advised as he saw Donna was returning with the tray. The soldier got up and moved back into the hospital. He had a check-up appointment for his leg that he needed to get to.

"Making new friends?" Donna asked the Doctor but he seemed to be deep in thought. She transferred the drinks and cake from the tray onto the table and then slotted the tray into a vacant seat. "Hey? You okay?" Donna checked and rubbed his thigh. He looked to her but didn't hear what she had said. "You okay?"

"I'm recovering from a virus," the Doctor stated.

"Yeah," Donna rubbed his leg. "I know, and I know it is horrible, but you are recovering. It is just going to take some time because of the damage that was done. I don't think it will be long before you're running around without any issues. It's hard, but you just need to be patient."

"No, that's not what I meant," the Doctor commented. "I'm recovering from a virus," he repeated. "So, why do I consistently have the feeling that you are all keeping something from me, and why does that soldier think that I had something done to me?" he asked.

"Oh, I don't know, maybe he was just mistaken?" Donna suggested.

"No," the Doctor shook his head. "He said that the Sontarans shooting him was nothing compared to what was done to me," the Doctor commented. He paused to take a breath, making sure he tried to take it in through his nose so it was oxygen rich. He wheezed slightly as his head was a whirr of fragmented memories that didn't make sense. "He will join me in… a move against… the people who did this… to me," the Doctor wheezed. "What was… he talking about… Donna?"

"You need to keep calm, Doctor," Donna told him. "Look at you getting all wheezy again?" Donna warned. "Breathe through your nose. Long deep breaths."

"No… tell me."

"Doctor, you need to relax and breathe properly. You're not well enough to be getting stressed. Shhh, calm down," Donna got up to rub his back as the Doctor wheezed noisily. She hated seeing him like this but Martha had assured them both that the scar tissue was reducing and he was healing it was just going to be slow and steady.

"Tell… me."

"Well, think about it Spaceman, do you really think I'm going to be sitting down here and having a conversation with you when you're rattling like a rat in a teakettle?" Donna asked him. "You need to calm down and breathe. This is exactly why it has not been discussed with you yet and that has been an agreed decision made by your medics, by Martha, and by Jack and I."

"Can't…"

"Sorry, Doctor, but you need to calm down."

"Can't… breathe," the Doctor wheezed. He leant forward, his free hand came up to the right side of his chest as pain spiked through it.

"Don't lean forward, Doctor, lean back. It will make it easier," Donna offered, she tried to ease him back into the wheelchair but he was gasping and grimacing. Donna glanced over to the café table where there was a young female soldier watching with concern. Donna mouthed 'get help' to her and the soldier got up and hurried to one of the emergency points on the wall to get them assistance. "You're okay, Spaceman," Donna held him. "You're okay," she assured him as she could feel him straining to get air in and against the pain. He looked at her and there was an sense of panic and fear in his eyes. "You're okay…"