The following chapter includes references to the TV series "House, M. D.". You do not have to know the series to understand the continuation of this story because not a single character from this series will appear. The following scene takes place in the Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital, used as hospital in the TV series. I do not own anything, which should be clear.

Chapter 2

"What do we know about him?" Doctor Valentina Riddle asked when she entered the casualty department. She rubbed her hands with disinfections soap and took the board from the nurse.

"Actually nothing. The witness said he just appeared in the middle of nowhere and was deeply hurt. I'd say flash burns of second and third degree, his head is bleeding due to a hard object that must have hit his head. He has bruises and wounds all over his body," she answered and together they drove the bed with the patient to a small room.

Valentina first checked the pulse at his wrist, then his breath at his body. "Cool down the burn wounds," she ordered the nurse while she inspected the seriously looking flesh wound at his head. Parts of the skin were loosely hanging down and you could see the white cranial bone which showed a small fracture caused by a sharp item. Luckily it hasn't reached the brain.

"Breathing and pulse are becoming slower," the nurse said and Valentina quickly checked the monitors. She grabbed the stethoscope and wanted to check it manually. "Give five micrograms of-", she started to say but the nurse had already grabbed both injections for the medicine and the morphine. The patient must have immense pain but he was staring up at the ceiling.

Valentina didn't have time to check if he was stoned and what medicine she could only give him but looked up confused and bent forward again.

"What is it?" the nurse wanted to know, seeing that the doctor was having problems.

"I don't find the heart beat," she answered.

"But he has a pulse and breath," the young woman said and checked the wrist again, then nodded.

Valentina already searched his chest and further down. Suddenly, her own breath stocked. She had found a heartbeat, irregular and low. But it was right over his pelvis, where a normal person would have a kidney. Suddenly, the body moved and the patient sat nearly upright. She pressed him back on the bed but his mouth was filling with blood. Pieces of vomit mixed with a dark brown liquor were spraying out his mouth.

"Oh my God, what's that?" the nurse screamed when she realized that it didn't look like blood at all.

Valentina pushed the man to his side so that he wouldn't choke at his vomit, but more and more 'blood' came flowing out his mouth and although the nurse held a metal bowl under his head, the bed clothes were becoming soaked wet and finally the man lay down on his back again. The monitors, related to his wrist, showed straight lines and began to beep.

"Defibrillator? Reanimation?" the nurse asked in panic but Valentina shook her head, staring motionlessly at the body.

"No," she decided. "He has nearly lost all of his blood and it seemed as if his heard would be at the place of his kidney." She bent down and put her hand on his forehead. It was already ice cold.

The nurse nodded in agreement and took the paper board again. "I enter 11:58 pm as time of death," she said and started writing.

"No kind of ID," Valentina said while she searched him. Actually, the man was wearing just a pair of strangely coloured trousers and a shirt with long sleeves.

The nurse nodded and went away to report the death of the patient. Valentina sighed and walked out to the corridor. That would mean another long report, another examination and another long night. The following hour, the death of the person was further inspected but it was found that there was no rescue. Still having shift at half past one in the morning, Valentina sat down in the empty staff's room with a warm coffee.

She was probably staring at the same spot at the wall for half an hour when someone entered the room. She looked up in surprise when she didn't recognize him. It was a man in his late thirties, wearing black clothes and a long, black coat. He took down his sun glasses and his dark eyes stared at her.

"Can I help you?" Valentina asked.

"Yes. About two hours ago you had an unidentified patient who died. Can you tell me more about the circumstances?"

"I'm sorry, who are you?" she wanted to know. She was too tired for FBI now...or CIA, or whoever he was sent from.

"I'm Jim Hoffman from the Torchwood Institute," he said and showed his ID. "I'm interested in the man you tried to save. My colleagues are already talking with the nurse and the other doctors who were involved with his death's aftermath," he explained and due to his voice, Valentina knew that he seemed to be dealing with death nearly every day.

"I can't tell you more than nurse Cathy has told you."

"She mentioned that you claimed a displacement of his heart."

"Yes, it seemed as if his heartbeat was coming from where the kidney is usually placed in a normal body. And his blood wasn't red but more brown. I'm sorry, but that's all. And I've written everything down in my report."

"I started reading it," the man said, but then seemed to relax. "Shall I get you a new coffee?" he asked and took her half-empty cup. She muttered 'thanks' and took it when he returned. He sat down next to her. "Was there anything else you need to tell?"

"I have no idea. His skull was opened with a sharp tool. I don't know who he is, nor what he has done before coming here, but someone really wanted him dead."

"That's usual in wars."

"Excuse me?"

"Nothing," he decided to say.

"What kind of war?" Valentina said, now fully awake.

"Oh, 62nd century. Nothing to worry about. Just the humans against the Sontarans and the Sycorax."

Valentina laughed. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"That doesn't matter," he answered coldly and his smile vanished.

"Because?"

"Because of the amnesia pill I put into your coffee. You will neither remember our little conversation nor the hopeless attempt to save an alien life form whose anatomy is completely different from ours."

Before he had even finished the last sentence, her eyes closed and he took her cup to place it on the table. Gently, he helped her lie down on the couch where she woke up the next morning, wondering how she fell asleep during her night shift.

I'd welcome reviews, please. I'll probably upload the next chapter within this week.