Chapter 6
After watching the 35th century version of A Study In Scarlet, the best version from the Doctor's point of view (although Jack had argued that he didn't find it as compelling as the 43rd century version) the events of the day finally caught up to Glad. With a yawn, she told the Doctor she was going to bed.
On her way out, he gave him her rubber duck. "Maybe Squee will cheer Sam up," she suggested.
The Gallifreyan looked at the duck with a hint of bemused appreciation. "I'll make sure that he receives it. Night, dear girl." He gave her a hug and a kiss to her forehead, sending her out of the room. Pulling out his sonic screwdriver, he headed for Rose's room and noticed that it was silent. Listening intently for a moment, he unlocked the door and stepped through. "Sam?" he called out gently into the darkness. Turning on the lights, he slowly walked to the bed, not wanting to disturb his patient unless necessary. What he saw made him sigh.
Sam's face was covered in sweat and he'd pushed the covers away. Shivering as he breathed heavily, trying to take in a full breath, he coughed. "Who's there?" the ill man cried out.
"It's the Doctor." Turning on the light he moved to the ill man. He carefully sat on the bed and moved his hand to feel Sam's temperature. "40.6 degrees Celsius. Far too high for humans. Need to bring your temperature down." He pulled the covers completely off of Sam. "How are you feeling?"
"I hurt everywhere. It feels like my arms and legs are cramping and I can hardly breathe."
The Doctor ran the sonic over the length of Sam's body. "Not to worry. We'll make sure that you feel better soon. I'm going to get you some broth and raise the humidity in here. Should help you breathe a little easier. I'll lower the temperature here too… make the room a little less hot." Standing, he went over to one side of the room, where the TARDIS had placed a bathroom and a door to gain access. Returning from the bathroom with a damp washcloth, he wiped the perspiration from Sam's face and neck. "Better?" he questioned, hoping that the changes he'd ordered, which the TARDIS immediately implemented, were aiding his sick friend.
"A little. Thanks," Sam said. "That feels good," he commented regarding the Doctor's ministrations. "You have a good bedside manner."
"Well... I am a doctor." A weak smile reached the Gallifreyan's eyes. "You just rest while I get that broth for you." He stood and started for the door.
Sam stopped the Doctor with his question. "Is Glad with you?"
"She's gone to bed." Remembering what Glad had asked of him, he gently patted himself down before pulling out Squee from one of his pockets. "She asked me to lend you her duck. Hopes it will give you some comfort." He smiled as he put the rubber duck on the table beside the bed.
The sick man looked at the bright yellow toy. "Can you send her in? I'd like to thank her."
"I'll tell her," the Time Lord replied and turned for the door again.
"I'll do it if you send her in," Sam continued to ask.
"I can't, Sam. You're under quarantine."
"Why?"
The Doctor exhaled slowly, wishing that he didn't have to go over this with Sam again. He knew that it wasn't Sam's fault that he couldn't remember their last conversation very clearly. "You are extremely sick, Sam. And extremely contagious. Well, contagious to your fellow humans. I can't let Glad come in to see you or she will get sick herself. And her immune system isn't as strong as yours. If she catches ZBI, she would likely die. I know you don't want that to happen any more than I do."
Sam looked at the Doctor wide-eyed, taking the statement to its worst case. "She would die? Then, no. I don't want her here."
"I didn't think so. I'll go get your broth now." He turned to leave the room again.
"Okay," Sam answered. "I'm going to get some water." He tried to get up but couldn't.
"I'll bring you some water too. Stay in bed. Doctor's orders." Closing the door behind him as he left, the Gallifreyan made his way to the kitchen where he prepared the simple dinner of warmed broth. He also procured a large plastic pitcher of iced water and some Jell-O before returning to the bedroom with a full tray.
Opening the door without knocking, he placed the tray on the side table, moving the rubber duck onto the tray. "There we are. Broth, dessert, and plenty of cold water." Raising his head, he realized that Sam wasn't in bed as he had hoped. "Sam?" Walking around the bed, he noticed that his patient was on the floor in the bathroom, his face practically pressed against the tile. "What are you doing down there?" he questioned with concern, reaching down to help him up.
"Don't wanna move. Feels good," Sam mumbled.
"Yes, I'm sure that it does," the Doctor told him, encouraging him to stand. "But you need to be in bed, you need to eat, and you need liquids, not to be on the floor."
He looked up at the Doctor. "You have any aspirin? My head hurts."
The Time Lord sighed. "I'll see if I can procure a mild analgesic that will help bring down your fever. We have to get you in bed." He crouched down to be available if Sam needed his help to get to his feet.
Sam closed his eyes for a moment. "Get up," he said to himself as if telling his body to move. "Need to get up." He didn't move though.
The Gallifreyan gave a small sympathetic smile as he put his hand on Sam's forehead. He noted the way the ill man pressed his head into the hand, obviously taking comfort in the Doctor's natural lower body temperature. It was clearly obvious that the leaper wasn't going to be able to get to his feet on his own. Lifting the hand away, the Doctor put his arms around him and pulled him physically up. He was dead weight in the Doctor's arms, forcing the lanky man to put Sam's arm over his shoulder to help keep the human on his feet. "You, Sam Beckett, are much heavier than you look," he complained slightly, pulling Sam towards the bed.
"God, fate, time or whoever seems to want to keep me in shape," Sam said somewhat disjointedly. "Who'd have thought a rotund bartender would care?"
The Doctor chuckled at his words as he carefully laid him on the bed. While Sam's ramblings were amusing, to the Doctor they indicated that his fever must be worse than before. "You just rest," he instructed gently, pulling only a thin sheet over him for comfort.
Sam coughed a few times. "Why can you come in when Glad can't?"
Going to the closet, the Doctor pulled down a couple of pillows and returned to Sam. "Sit up," he instructed, not immediately answering the question. "She's human. I'm not."
Sam complied with the Doctor's request, allowing him to put extra pillows behind him to help him sit upright. "So this thing only affects humans?"
"It's more like humans are far more susceptible to it than other races. Plus I have a highly advanced immune system. There is very little in the universe that can make me sick." He picked up the bowl of broth and handed him the spoon. "Come on. Drink up."
Sam shook his head. "I'm not hungry."
"Correction. You are hungry; you just don't have an appetite. And I would rather you received your meals this way rather than intravenously." Taking the spoon back from him, he ladled a small amount from the bowl. "Drink up. That's an order."
Sam compliantly opened his mouth, although he was obviously not happy about it. "I gotta warn you. When I'm sick, I seldom hold things down for long."
"That's okay. I've got a bucket ready just in case. It's also the reason why we're starting with slightly warm broth. And you don't have to eat it all at once." He put the spoon in Sam's mouth and waited until he closed it before pulling the utensil back out.
Eating the broth the Doctor gave him, he got to five bites before he shook his head. "No more. Really."
The Doctor sighed slightly, putting the broth back on the tray. "I have to tell you that, if you keep at this rate, you are going to be severely malnourished before you are completely over this. It usually runs its course in about three to four weeks. That's a long time to only have five spoonfuls of broth intermittently."
Sam blinked but didn't react to the timeline, which again showed how sick he was. "I'll eat more later." He lay back on the pillows, his eyes closing. "My head still hurts."
The Time Lord put the tray on the nightstand before placing his hand against Sam's forehead once more, noting the slight rise in his temperature. Reaching over with his other hand, he placed them on Sam's temples before massaging them gently until the latter had fallen asleep. Slowly standing, he exited the bedroom, locking the door behind him as he left. The broth would keep for several hours and, hopefully, would be gone when he returned.
Going back to the console room, he occupied himself with tinkering in order to keep himself from worrying about his ailing friend.
DWQLTWDWQLTW
Through the night, the TARDIS would inform the Doctor of Sam's progress, or rather lack thereof. The Gallifreyan was up and down several times, doing his best to keep the fever at bay. Early the next morning, he walked into the kitchen and went straight for the cabinet to obtain some loose tea. As he was preparing a cup, Glad walked in as well. Sensing her presence, he finished fixing the cup before deciding to give that one to her. "He's worse," he told her, knowing what she was about to ask.
"Can I make the movie for him then?" she asked. "Maybe that will make him feel better."
The Doctor smiled at her words. "Marvelous idea," he complimented. "After breakfast." He went back to make another cup of tea to replace the one he had given to her.
She took a sip from her cup. "I really liked that movie we watched last night." She gave a slight frown. "But why are they also called films? Neither you nor Sam ever explained that."
"Well, they're also called films for the actual cellophane they are recorded on."
"What's cellophane?"
"It's... very thin plastic." He paused, seeing the confusion on her face. "I explain later." Seeing the slightly annoyed expression on the girl's face, he added, "I promise. When we make your film for Sam."
The two enjoyed their teas, having fresh fruit for their first meal of the day, before the Doctor led the girl through the TARDIS to a specific room. "Here we are! The vault!" he announced, gesturing to the round canisters around. He plucked one from a shelf and opened it. "Remember asking about cellophane? This is cellophane. Don't touch unless your hands are clean and be very gentle. These films are ancient... well, I picked them up when they were ancient. Go to Sam's time and they're just a little old." He closed the canister quickly and replaced it before grabbing her hand and pulling her along to the other side of the room.
"So you mean they're like DVDs only older!" Glad exclaimed excitedly.
"Sort of," the Doctor hedged. "The big difference is that various forms of light imprint on cellophane to create films whereas DVDs..." He paused. "Actually, they're imprinted with various forms of light as well. But it's different. You can put a small scratch on a DVD and it won't hurt the disc unless it's a deep scratch. Film? Not such a good idea. Too delicate." He picked up a disc and twirled it in his hand. "And, with film, you actually put the images on the cellophane. DVDs, you record the images on a metal that covers the plastic disc which in turn is covered with plastic to prevent damage to the metallic surface. Which is what we will be doing for you. The recording, that is, not making the actual DVD disc."
"We're going to make the movie?" she squealed excitedly.
"We're going to make the movie!" the Doctor told her with a wide grin. "Disc one of Galadriel Thatcher's video diary! Figured you'd like to do that, a diary. Be able to show your grandchildren who you were, who you are, who you will be, what you did, what you like to do..."
She laughed. "I'm not even married and you're talking about my grandchildren! I just want to tell Sam about seeing Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson."
"What? You don't think you will have grandchildren eventually?"
"Well... probably but not right now." Her eyes grew wide. "I don't have to get married right now, do I? I mean... that's not necessary to travel with you, is it?"
"Why would it be a requirement for you to be married to travel with me? In fact, when you think about it, I'd say the opposite is true. I mean, if you're married, there's too much... domestic stuff going on."
She took in what he said and decided it was settled. No marriage for her for at least another year. "Great. Now can we make the movie."
"Right!" He grabbed her shoulders gently. "Sit down right there, then, while I find that camcorder. I know I left it in here somewhere... Of course, Sam was the last one to use it... Or was that the one that was destroyed?" After a minute of searching, he popped up with a grin. "Here we are! Knew it was in here." He started talking to himself. "Check for power... check for memory... Brilliant!" Going to a spot in front of Glad, he sat on the floor and aimed the camera at her. "Focus..." he murmured. "There we go! Talk away, dear girl!"
Glad did just that, her animated voice starting with "You just want to lounge around in bed and not have to do anything for awhile. Well, let me tell you what the Doctor and I did." She spent the next thirty minutes talking about watching A Study in Scarlet." She finally finished, "And we're going to watch The Sign of Four tonight." She paused. "I really do hope you're feeling better soon, Sam."
The Doctor looked at her for a moment. "Done?" he questioned.
She nodded. "Was it good?"
"Oh, you were fantastic! A superstar!" he told her as he stopped the recording and stood up.
"Are you going to take that to Sam? I wish I could see how he likes it."
"Just as soon as I put it on a disc," he answered.
"Okay." As she watched the Doctor working she asked. "What's a superstar? You said that the stars were all the shiny diamonds in the sky. Is there a special kind of star? Why would you call me one?"
The Gallifreyan paused for a moment, frowning slightly. "Oh. Yeah, that would be a bit confusing." He took a breath. "A star, like the ones you see in the sky, are actually suns but are very, very far away so they look really, really small to the naked eye. But 20th century humans... and further on actually... would call very famous actors, the ones in films, stars because they 'shine' on film. A superstar, on the other hand, is not only a famous actor or actress but also a dazzling one... someone absolutely everyone has heard of. And... well..." He smiled widely at her. "You're a superstar to me!"
She smiled back at him brilliantly. "And you're a superstar to me then!" She encouraged him to hurry on his task wanting to have Sam see it soon.
It took only a few more minutes for the Doctor to finish the disc. Standing, he showed it to Glad. "Here it is. Your first movie. I suppose you want him to see this right away."
She nodded. "Yes. If I can't see him, then he can see me."
"Then I'd better go take it to him." He exited the room, Glad following him out the door. He slowed as he came close to Sam's room. "Why don't you go on to the library and find something we can read together. You still need to work on that."
She looked at him sadly. "You don't want me here when you open the door, do you."
He gently took her shoulder. "It's for your own good, Glad. He is extremely contagious. I don't want you to get sick as well."
She shrugged. "Okay, okay. I know." She headed off to the library.
He waited patiently until Glad was out of the area before unlocking the door and walking into the bedroom. "Hello, Sam. Have something for you."
Since the Doctor last checked on him, Sam appeared to have worsened even more. "What?" he croaked out.
The Doctor's eyebrows furrowed at the rattle in Sam's voice. Going over to the ill man, he bent over to look at him closer. "Oh, Sam. You really don't look too good." He remembered the disc in his hand. "Want a bit of cheering up?"
Sam nodded. It was a tossup as to whether he'd really understood the question or it if was a case of simply agreeing to anything.
"Right, then," the Time Lord said, looking around. Going over to the television that was situated on the inlaid bookcase, he turned the device so that Sam could see it before putting the disc into the DVD player underneath and pressing "play." As the disc started, he again took Sam's temperature, grimacing with deep concern. Refilling the water pitcher, he then exited, locking the door behind him. He headed towards the library, his mind already deciding that reading likely wasn't on the agenda for the day after all.
Sitting in a large chair, Glad was looking at a children's book. "What's wrong?" she asked as he walked in.
"He's far worse than I originally thought. His immune system isn't fighting off the infection. He's going to need some very special medication and it isn't available on Lastiarus."
"Then where do we need to go?"
Before the Doctor could answer, he felt the TARDIS indicating that Sam was highly agitated. "Hold that thought," he stated quickly before hurrying back to Rose's room. As he approached the door, the sound of breakage reached him. Rushing to unlock the door, the Doctor moved rapidly into the room, his concern magnifying twenty-fold.
Sam was standing, wild and glassy-eyed. He had thrown a paperweight at the TV. He turned to the Time Lord. "What were you thinking, Tom? Why did you bring Katie in here? Both of you could die!"
The Time Lord frowned at Sam's words before noticing the broken television. He sagged visibly. "Rose is going to kill me. She picked that out herself." Blinking, he realized what Sam had said a moment ago. "Who are Tom and Katie?"
"Stop playing around, Tom. I could have really hurt Katie if I hadn't gotten her out of here. You need to get out too."
"Okay," the Doctor started, slowly approaching him. "Obviously, you're having hallucinations..." He frowned. "…which isn't one of the symptoms I've heard about concerning ZBI. Still... I'm not Tom. I'm the Doctor. And Katie isn't here. Who is Katie, Sam?"
"Tom, I'm not going to lose you again. Get away from me." He backed up. "Mom would have our hides if we let our little sister get hurt." He reached the wall and slid down it. Reaching the floor he suddenly changed thoughts. "I think I've killed Al. I haven't seen him for such a long time. Can this flu kill a hologram?"
The Doctor followed him to the wall, slowly lowering himself to be face to face with him. "Al is fine. He's just... away for a bit." He carefully reached towards him. "Let me just feel your head, Sam."
Sam looked at the Gallifreyan, his eyes unfocused. He blinked a few times. "Where did he go? He's never been gone this long." He allowed the Doctor to touch his head. "That feels nice."
"Don't worry about him," the Doctor murmured gently. "He'll return soon." He frowned at Sam's comment about his hand against his forehead. "I bet it does. You're burning up." He knew he'd have to get more fever reducer into the man but first he needed to get him back to bed. "Come on," he said pulling Sam up into his arms.
Allowing himself to be lifted, the change in position caused the leaper to promptly pass out.
The Doctor exhaled quickly. "Wonderful," he said sarcastically as he felt the dead weight of the man. He then carried Sam to the bed, laying him in it before covering him and tucking a pillow under his head. "I have a feeling it's probably easier to keep you strapped to a couch in the medical bay," the Time Lord muttered, shaking his head. Feeling his patient's forehead one more time, he frowned strongly. "You're over 42 degrees now. You're definitely not going to beat this on your own." He turned towards the door, the remains of the television catching his eye. "Hope you stay in bed this time, Sam. I don't have time to clean up your mess." Almost as if in answer to his comment, the broken television and all the glass shards seemed to disappear. The Doctor grinned, looking at the nearest wall. "You're being more helpful than normal. Thanks!" The hum in his mind was all the response he needed.
Leaving the bedroom, he stalked towards the console room, his face a picture of anxiety.
Glad had left the library and was waiting for the Doctor in the console room. "Doctor? How's Sam? Did he like the movie?"
"I'm not sure if he actually understood what he was watching, to be honest. His temperature is dangerously high and I'm fairly sure he mistaken your image for that of someone else."
"Who?" she asked.
"Someone named Katie. From what I could gather she's his little sister."
"Katie. It has a nice sound to it." She suddenly realized what the Doctor had said. "Dangerously high? That sounds bad."
"It is," he told her, "I've used the strongest medicines I have. If we don't bring the fever down soon, it will damage his brain. Remember what I said about that special medicine? I need to get it now." He walked to the console and started inputting coordinates. Once they were entered, he flicked a switch, causing the TARDIS to jolt slightly as the time ship dematerialized.
