Chapter 23
Lima, Peru
June 2009
Having found a parking space close to the hospital's entrance, the three walked into the building, the Doctor looking around with curiosity. "You don't seem to have a little shop in here," he said with obvious disappointment.
"This is a military hospital, Doctor. Not a bloody shopping mall," Alistair answered.
"Still, you should have a little shop. You know, to get gifts for patients and... shop." The Time Lord tucked his hands into his pockets. "Love a little shop. We should have brought grapes."
Glad frowned slightly. "I thought you said Sam was being cared for. Surely, they gave him something to eat."
The Doctor waved his hand slightly. "It's just a tradition to give patients grapes. Not because they're going to be hungry, just... well... to be honest, I never really did research that particular tradition. Probably had to do with it being associated with... fruit."
The Brigadier shook his head. "Only you, Doctor." He then turned to the girl. "I'm sure, considering Miss Ros... um... Sam has been asleep, that they have been providing nutrition intravenously. Solid food would likely have been prohibited."
"Intravenously?" she questioned.
"Liquid diet through a tube put in his arm," the Gallifreyan clarified. "Very likely a saline/sugar solution to maintain his health."
She grimaced slightly. "Doesn't sound very pleasant."
"Well, the good thing is, he wouldn't know, now would he?" the Brigadier reasoned. "After all, he's been asleep... and healing."
"I suppose," she answered softly as they approached the door of the room where Sam lay.
The Doctor turned to Glad, holding her shoulders gently. "I need you to stay here with Sir Alistair while I see Sam. I want to make sure that he's awake and up for visitors. If he is, I'll come and get you." Without waiting for a response, he walked into the room, closing the door behind him.
Unable to get in a protest otherwise, Glad sighed and found a seat across the way from the room, hugging the satchel in her hands. Sir Alistair, having been given charge over the teenage girl by the Doctor's words, sat beside her and the two waited for the Time Lord to return.
The moment he walked into the hospital room, the Doctor's hearts fell at the sight before him. While he knew that it was Sam Beckett under the aura, seeing Rose's face marred by still healing bruises and cuts was almost too much for him to bear. Nonetheless, he refocused himself to the task at hand and approached the bed slowly. Then, raising his hands to touch either side of Sam's face, he sent a telepathic order for the man to come out of the deep sleep he had been put under. "Sam?" he questioned gently. "Sam, you can wake up now."
The eyeballs under the lids moved slowly as if reaching for consciousness even while remaining in slumber. A moment later, though, the lids began to rise. "Doctor? Where am I?" the voice croaked out.
"Easy there," the Time Lord told him, his voice gentle as he found the small cup of half melted ice by the bed. He dug a chip from the cup and put it between Sam's dry lips. "Your throat's a little raw but not bad. Nothing to worry about. Comes from not having anything but ice chips every once in a while and then only with a nurse supervising to make sure you don't choke. Oh, and you're in hospital, in case you were wondering, which obviously you are since you asked."
Sam nodded. A moment later, he rasped, "That explains the smell."
"What smell is that?" the Doctor wondered for a moment. "Right!" he replied to his own question. "The antiseptic! Well, have to keep the building sanitary, don't they?"
"That too," Sam replied, his rough voice indicating he needed more ice chips.
The alien obliged, pulling out a couple more chips and putting them in his friend's mouth. "You really had us concerned, Samuel. Mounting that rescue like that... Brave fellow, you." He regarded his friend for a moment, hoping that the block placed on his memory had taken hold.
"Rescue?" Sam questioned. "I don't remember anything. Well, nothing past the three men showing up. What happened?" There was concern in his eyes.
"Oh, we found Alistair, rescued him and got a ride back to Lima, courtesy of UNIT."
"Oh... right," Sam said distractedly. "Then why can't I remember? This hasn't happened since I joined you, Doctor. I'm used to Swiss cheesing on other leaps but not this late in the leap... not that I've ever been this late in a leap."
"Yeah... Well... You did get a rather nasty knock to the head getting past those men who were holding Alistair. You collapsed just after we rescued him," the Doctor lied, hoping that Sam's mind would use these false memories to hold the block. "You were unconscious the entire flight back to UNIT HQ. It doesn't really surprise me that you may have forgotten the whole incident, what with the human brain being unpredictable at times, even for geniuses with eidetic memories."
Sam nodded. "I suppose." He blinked rapidly as if disturbed, although he didn't know why that would be. It was a vague feeling at best, but somehow, he knew it was related to what had transpired. "What happened to those men?" he asked suddenly.
The Doctor ran a hand through his hair, not wanting to disturb Sam's still fragile mental state but knowing that he needed to know. "They're dead," he finally said somberly. "A UNIT soldier was forced to retaliate when they refused to surrender."
"Good," Sam said, not at all sure why he felt the way he did. It was just a relief to know they wouldn't be around to harm anyone else.
"What?!" the Time Lord exclaimed, stunned by his friend's words. He never expected such violent thoughts to come from him, especially with the character he now knew Sam had.
"Good," Sam said again still not sure why he was so adamant about that particular feeling. Almost as if putting anything related to the men behind him, the leaper changed the topic. "So, your friend is safe now?"
The Doctor looked at him for a long moment, unsure how to interpret Sam's blatant statement of approval for the guerrillas' deaths. He speculated that it was likely some of the feelings were bleeding through the block and thus it was understandable Sam would feel some malevolence towards them. As such, he let the subject slide, as Sam obviously intended, and focused on the current situation. "He's fine. In fact, he's out in the hall with Glad, waiting for my approval for them to see you."
"It'll be good to see Glad." The smile on the leaper's face indicated his anticipation.
Hearing his words, the alien smiled, giving him another couple of chips. "Right, then. I'll just go and retrieve her." Walking to the door, he opened it, causing the person in question to raise her head. "You can come in, Glad. Sam can't wait to see you. Just remember. He's still a bit weak."
The girl jumped up and started moving towards the door, stopping suddenly and turning back. "Do you need any help, Sir Alistair?"
"Oh, I'm quite all right, child. You just go on in," he assured her.
"Okay," she said, moving quickly to the door again. Once inside, she looked at the bruised face. "Sam!" she cried out with concern.
Smiling, the man in question waved her over. "It's okay, Glad. I'm fine. The Doctor says I just hit my head."
"Just hit your head? Sam, you look awful!" she exclaimed, dropping her satchel on the floor so that she could take his hand.
"It was a bit more than a hit on the head..." the Doctor murmured hesitantly.
"What?" Sam asked. He lifted the top of the hospital table, pulling up the mirror that was inside. "Oh, boy..." he stated, looking at his aura's reflection. "I look like I was beat up pretty good."
"Who did this to you?" Glad pressed gently. "What happened?"
Concerned that the questions would affect the block, the Time Lord quickly put in, "Nothing to worry yourself over. The important thing is Sam's getting better and will be out of the hospital very soon." He touched her shoulder reassuringly.
Sam put down the mirror suddenly. "I don't want to know," he said hastily with a bit of trepidation in his voice. Again, there was a feeling of cold fear that flitted at the edge of his consciousness. Sam pushed it away quickly, not wanting to understand it any further. "When do you think that will be, Doctor? Getting out of the hospital, I mean. Don't particularly like being in one."
"Yeah, me neither. Especially when it doesn't even have a shop," the Gallifreyan agreed. "Undoubtedly the staff will want to run tests, make sure that you are well enough to leave. Probably sometime after they've gotten you to eat solid food again. They'll probably let you out in three or four days... maybe."
"I'm not staying here three or four days," Sam stated emphatically. "I can always sign myself out, you know."
"I really wouldn't advise that, Samuel. You don't know the person in charge of this base. He's rather... how should I put it... obedient to my wishes. And I wish for you to get better. If that means you have to stay here for the next four days, so be it."
"I have a better idea. You stay here for the next four days." Sam started to push himself up, obviously intent on moving out of his current position. "I'm a doctor, remember? And I give myself a clean bill of health."
"Why would I want to stay in a hospital for four days when I'm the one perfectly healthy right now and you can't even get up out of bed without falling out?"
"I'll be fine," the leaper said stubbornly.
"I've heard that one before," came a deep voice from the doorway.
"See!" Sam stated, feeling that in some way the statement was supportive of his plans to leave the hospital. He smiled as he finally got himself in position to get out of the bed. "Thank you, um... I don't believe we've been introduced."
The Brigadier's eyebrows went up at his words, a surprised look on his face. "We met in the caves, Miss Tyler."
"The caves?" the physicist asked, his forehead creasing. Once more the certainty that he didn't want to know what the man was talking about overwhelmed him. He shook his head. "I don't remember any caves."
The Doctor turned to his oldest human friend. "Sam doesn't remember anything from the moment we encountered the guerrillas to when I just woke him a few minutes ago."
"Nothing?" the Brigadier asked, the question pregnant with meaning.
"Nothing," the Time Lord confirmed. "Remember in the cave when I held him... and we were waiting for UNIT to arrive..." He didn't go further, not wanting the block he had placed on Sam's mind to be broken by a misspoken word.
The Brigadier thought about that moment. "Yes. Bloody good thing too."
"Good?" Sam questioned a frown on his face. "Do you mean my being held or my not remembering?"
The Doctor quickly and physically swiped the words away. "Nothing to worry about," he told him. "This is my very best friend Alistair, by the way. The man we rescued."
"Yes. Your friend the Brigadier, as I recall," Sam answered, looking at the retired officer. "I'm glad you're safe now."
"Thanks to you and the Doctor," Alistair replied with a grateful smile.
"We were happy to do so..." he answered before his face morphed into a sheepish half grin, "...even if I don't remember any of the rescue." He continued to attempt to push himself out of the bed.
The Doctor, seeing his actions, moved to push him back down. "You aren't going anywhere until I have assurances from the staff here that you are well enough to do so."
"I heard that one before too," the Brigadier grumbled slightly. "Human doctors, Time Lord doctors... I think the profession is just naturally too stubborn for their own good."
"Oi! You aren't helping, Alistair!"
"I told you, I'm fine," Sam snapped. As he pushed himself forward, he felt a breeze. "Oh, great. Hospital gown." He narrowed his eyes at the Doctor. "And I'm sure you didn't bring anything for me to change into."
"Yes, we did," Glad stated, bringing up the satchel into Sam's view. "It was his idea, in fact."
Sam blinked. "Really?" He was actually surprised. "So you were thinking I might be going home after all... well, home in a manner of speaking."
The alien shrugged slightly. "I had a feeling that, since you and I tend towards similar attitudes in some respects, that you wouldn't be exactly keen to remaining in a shopless hospital."
"We forgot to buy grapes," Glad told Sam, sounding apologetic.
"Grapes?" Sam stopped. "Ah, yes, the British equivalent of flowers." He paused. "Never did understand that tradition."
"Me neither," the Doctor admitted.
"It's because it's a fruit," the girl put in.
Alistair rolled his eyes. "So, Doctor. Are you going to let your companion who sounds amazingly like you in a hospital... sans shopping obsession... come back to my home where I'm sure Doris will provide excellent care for him?"
"You told him?" Sam questioned the Time Lord.
"Well, it was either that or allow Glad to be admitted into a different kind of hospital all together, one that wouldn't be helpful for her at all."
"Huh?" The leaper was confused.
"The kind that requires a specialist? You know... those hospitals that have jackets that wrap your arms around your body to prevent you from harming yourself?"
It was Glad's turn to roll her eyes, knowing that the Doctor was hedging around the issue to keep from hurting her feelings. "Sir Alistair and Mrs. Doris thought that I was the village idiot because I told them about how you were like a pitcher and water."
"Ahhhh." Sam stated, realizing what they were talking about now. "And they didn't think that made any sense at all, I take it."
"Well, if you knew village idiots, you wouldn't listen to them either," she put in. "But they've since changed their mind."
The Doctor looked around. "Speaking of village idiots, I wonder where Albert is."
Sam narrowed his eyes. "Al isn't an idiot."
"I suppose he is rather brilliant for an idiot," the Time Lord put in, a teasing smile on his face. "Clown would better fit, considering his typical choice of dress." He grimaced. "Never did like clowns. They're... evil. Court jester maybe?"
Sam laughed. "Well, I can't argue with you about Al's unique choice of clothing. He does tend to be on the flamboyant side."
As the banter continued, a doctor came into the room. "Ah, Ms. Tyler. Awake I see."
"Yes, and I feel fine. When can I leave?" the leaper stated, now addressing the human doctor in a bid to get out of the hospital.
"Well, given that you have been unconscious for the last forty-eight hours and have been on intravenous feeding, we'll have to make sure that you are able to digest solid food before you are released. Three... four days at most," the physician replied.
"Told you," the Doctor commented in a sing-song voice.
"And I'm telling you, it's not going to be that long." He turned back to the physician, reading his nameplate. "I understand, Dr. Martinez, you want to know there isn't anything that would be a problem, but I guarantee, I'm fine. If you need me to eat first, great. I'm ready for some solid food right now."
"It isn't just eating that concerns me, Ms. Tyler. There's also your psychological stability. You've been through quite an ordeal."
"Story of my life since I joined him," Sam snapped back. "Fighting dragons, dealing with undead mummies, terrorists, and sometimes supercilious aliens... what more could there be?"
"Supercilious aliens?" the Gallifreyan questioned with a frown. "What supercilious aliens? I don't remember any. Well, there was Sekhmet..."
"What does supper-chilly-us mean?" Glad questioned.
"That, Ms. Tyler, is exactly what I'm talking about," Dr. Martinez told him. "The stress has obviously pushed you into dealing with these difficult issues by wrapping yourself in fantasies."
Alistair's eyebrows went up but he didn't say anything, enjoying the back and forth between the three obvious friends. In a way, he felt pity for Dr. Martinez. He didn't have a chance.
"Now they think you're the village idiot," the girl put in. "And what does supper-chilly-us mean? Sounds like something we'd eat on a hot day," she pressed.
"Or a cold day," the Doctor commented. "Love a good chili, especially in the American Southwest. New Mexico in the 1950s. A little mum-and-pop diner."
"But what does it mean?" Glad pushed, getting increasingly frustrated.
Sam looked at the Doctor, shaking his head slightly before turning to Glad. "Supercilious means, among other things, presumptuous. Which is, unfortunately, one of the Doctor's personality traits," Sam finished.
Alistair smiled. "I have a lifetime's worth of experience to verify that, Ms. Tyler."
"What?!" came the exclamation from the alien. "You're saying I'm the supercilious alien to whom you were referring?"
"Yes. That's exactly what I'm saying." He turned back to Dr. Martinez. "And I really, really want to get out of this hospital. Sir Alistair has indicated that I may recuperate at his home which would be greatly preferable to this hospital room. Besides, I'm sure you have someone else that could better use this bed. What do you say?"
"Your mental state..." the physician started.
"... is perfectly fine," the Doctor interrupted. "His judgment, however, leaves something to be desired," he added under his breath. He raised his volume yet again to continue. "Miss Tyler is as sane as you or I and, though I am concerned as well, I agree that she should come with us if only to prevent your ears from being afflicted by her loquaciousness. Believe me, she'll talk you out of house and home."
"And just when have I done that?" Sam asked.
"Oh, face it, Samuel. You are as tenacious as a greyhound when you want something."
The physician frowned slightly at the name spoken. "Samuel?"
"Nickname," the Gallifreyan told him. "I call her Samuel, she calls me Abubakar Nuru... Ru for short. Or was that Abub? Never could pick one."
"I am ruing coming to the hospital with you, Doctor," Alistair taunted in a pun.
Glad continued to try and follow the conversation without much success. "That's it! Stop using words I can't figure out! Supper-chilly-us, tent-ate-us, pre-stomp-on-us, locate...locate...oh you know that one that had to do with housekeeping... It's just too much!"
"Housekeeping?" came the query from the Time Lord. He shook his head, deciding to let the subject slide for the moment.
The physician pulled up the chart at the end of the bed and started to write on it.
Alistair noted the change in the medical man. "What are you writing?"
"Her release documents. I'm not sure how sane she is, but she's certainly in good company. If your wife has agreed to nurse her to health, I'm sure you will keep an eye on her - and her friends - for any situation that would require re-hospitalization."
"Thank you, Dr. Martinez," Alistair told the physician.
"Brilliant, Sam! You're coming home," Glad said with a grin. "Now, I just have one more question."
The Doctor, still smiling from the knowledge that they were releasing Sam - even if he did want him to stay originally - turned to the girl at the frustrated tone in her voice that came with her last statement. "What is it, Glad?"
"All those words you said... what do they all mean?"
The Time Lord blinked. "What words are you talking about?"
Glad threw up her hands. "Just great! Now I'll never know."
Alistair threw her a sad grin. "You get used to it, child."
