The Doctor woke up to the sound of wind and rain tearing through the trees and beating against the house. He slept with his windows open these days, wanting to experience as much of nature as he could. He could hear the flapping of the drapes as the wind blew them inward. He was glad he had thought to put a towel down to catch any stray drops, though from the sound of the incoming rain he suspected it was already soaked through.
Almost ten weeks had passed since Rose had agreed to let him help. He never thought he would make it this long. When he had said two months if he was careful, he had actually felt the best he could hope for was five or six weeks. Whether the difference was because of the teas, soups and bath salts or just the emotional support he received from Pete, Jackie and Tony, he wasn't sure, but he was grateful for every extra day he had.
Now, however, the reprieve was over. There weren't many days left. Two at most, at least one, he hoped fervently at least one, that he hadn't left it too late. He told himself not to worry; he had been tracking the energy depletion every night. He could even exert himself today and still make it through as much of tomorrow as he needed to.
Rose was getting impatient; she was eager to test the modified dimension cannon. The expert who had followed the Doctor's every move when he worked on it said it should work, and if not he could reverse the changes, but he did admit he didn't fully understand what all the modifications were for nor how to operate the new control panel.
The Doctor was deliberately putting off firing the dimension cannon. Delaying that final action as long as possible, hoping something would intervene, making it no longer necessary. The risk was so great and the fate of this and perhaps all universes hung in the balance. If he made a mistake, literally everything could be lost.
He'd spent yesterday going over all the procedures, checking the equipment, verifying it was properly calibrated. He had run loop back tests to ensure the connections that linked all the computers in Torchwood were good and functioned as they should.
Rose had watched closely. Eager, knowing he was getting close to actually running it. Bringing her closer to the day she could go back to 'her' Doctor. He had finished the last of his tests and shut off the equipment, when he looked up and told her he was taking the next day off.
She was predictably furious. "What do you mean, you want the day off? It's been over two months, you should be done by now. Even if you couldn't get it to work the way you wanted, by now, you were supposed to be…"
"Dead?" He finished the sentence for her, fixing her with a stony stare. His normally warm eyes like ice, wanting her to face up to what she had been thinking. That she was angry because he was still breathing. At the edge of his vision, he saw her hand flex, itching to make contact with his face. To lay the blame for any guilt she felt on him, not her own actions, never her own actions.
He broke eye contact with her and wondered why he bothered trying to get her to see herself and what she had become. Even if she did see and started to change, there was no guarantee she would change enough or that change would be permanent. The fate of the universe was too high a stake to gamble on with such long odds.
"I didn't ask you if I could take the day off," he said as he put his tools away. "I told you I was. To run this takes more than the computational power of the networked computers. It takes this," he tapped the side of his head hard enough that it was a bit painful as he emphasized his point. "And I want it in top shape when we fire this system up. So I am taking a day off. You can wait a day. It will still be here." He turned and walked out of the lab.
Rose yelled after him, "The Doctor, the proper Doctor, wouldn't run off now. He wouldn't be able to wait to see if it worked. You're leaving because you know it won't..." The Doctor let the lab door close behind him, cutting off her taunts.
Looking back on the incident, he was glad he made the decision he did. He didn't want to spend his final day on this planet in a windowless lab with someone who couldn't wait for him to be gone.
He stretched in his bed and listened. The sound of the rain was soothing. He could hear the water rushing through the gutter system, there was a steady tapping sound indicating one of the gutter seams was leaking. It was dark out, but not as dark as night, indicating the sun was up behind the clouds. The rain made the air smell clean. He listened to the sounds inside the house. No was one up yet. That worked for what he wanted to do. He got dressed in the brown suit, the one he liked the least and quietly left his room.
He stealthily made his way to the end of the hallway where the lift was and entered it. The door sliding shut behind him. Pete had it put in six weeks ago. The Doctor had thanked him and then steadfastly refused to use it. Determined not to change how he lived his life and admit infirmity into it. He continued to doggedly use the stairs. Pulling himself up each step taking breaks till he made it to the top.
Then one day it was too much. He slipped while trying to lift his foot to the next stair and banged his shin. He sat there on the step, breathing hard, still four from the top, squeezing back the tears of pain and frustration that formed in his eyes, angry with himself, his weakness, and even this universe that he was trying to save while it was slowly killing him.
The coral cried out from his pain and anger, causing him to realize it wasn't just himself that was suffering from his stubbornness and pride. He took it out of his pocket and held it gently in his hands, stroking it with his thumb, letting the motion calm him, as he reassured the coral, apologizing for his carelessness, his thoughtlessness. The coral became tranquil under his care. Its concern for him eased as he explained it was just foolishness on his part, everything was fine, he was safe and well.
He felt a small hand on his knee. He looked down to see a concerned young boy looking up at him. "Dockor fall down? Dockor hurt?"
"I'm fine, Tony, where's your mum?" the Doctor replied in a carefree voice, trying to ease the boy's anxiousness.
"Mum is right here," called Jackie from the top of the stairs. "When are you going to quit being so silly and use the lift?"
The Doctor slipped the coral back into his pocket and shakily got to his feet. "I was thinking now would be a good time to start."
"I think a good time to start would have been before you attempted the stairs this time. Stay right there, I'll help you the rest of the way. You men and your pride," She shook her head as she descend the stairs to the Doctor and put a supportive arm around him. "Come on, just lean on me." She helped him negotiate the remaining four stairs. After that the Doctor used the lift without complaint, surrendering to inevitability of his increasing disability.
This morning the lift was a blessing. Quiet, no telltale bells, the door mechanism, so brilliantly engineered, there was only the faintest whisper as it opened, letting him out on the ground floor.
He went out the garden door and stood on the covered porch, looking out over the landscape. The rain was coursing down with such force it was over running the gutter system. Small ad hoc streams were forming in the garden as the over saturated soil could take no more and refused to receive the gift of moisture the storm brought. Lightening was flashing off in the distance, followed by the predictable but untamed sound of the thunder that rolled over him.
Not ideal conditions for a morning stroll, but a day like this had its own appeal. He was a bit sad whenever a planet mastered the art of weather control. Nature was at its best when it was untamed. He always enjoyed the sheer power and force of a feral storm. It made him feel so alive.
He stepped out from under the protection of the porch. He enjoyed the wind as it played with his hair, the feel of each raindrop as it hit his unprotected scalp and face, the squishy splashing sound his feet made as he trod down the path to the stable. When he arrived, he was soaked through to the skin, his socks soggy and limp around his ankles, bunching into a sodden mass inside his shoes. He didn't mind, it was all a part of being alive, an experience to be cherished and savored.
He picked up a plastic step stool that was used as a mounting block and entered Shadow's paddock. The pony, having more sense than he did, was in the three sided run in shed taking shelter from the storm.
The Doctor joined him and sat on the step stool leaning his back against the rough oak boards that made up the lower inside wall of the shed, protecting the outer plywood from the stray kicks of the residents. The stable staff had already been by and left a token amount of hay for Shadow and his paddock mate. The Doctor enjoyed listening to the rain and the contented crunching sound of the ponies eating hay. The sweet smell of the grass hay, the musky smell of the ponies and even the odor of their dung seemed pleasurable on this day.
He'd ruined his suit. The one Rose had bought him. He didn't think it mattered anymore. He took his shoes and socks off, putting his bare feet on the lowest step of the stool. He twisted his socks, wringing them out, causing a stream of water to fall to the packed dirt floor of the shed, creating a small patch of mud. He lay the socks on the upper most oak board, not that he expected them to dry, but just to keep them out of the way.
Shadow finished his hay and came over to the Doctor who held out his hand to the pony. He felt the soft velvet of the muzzle, the warmth of the pony's breath on his hand as it checked him out.
"Sorry, boy, no treats today." He scratched the pony behind the ears, looking into its soft brown eyes. Shadow, such a genuine mount, perfect for Tony. The Doctor missed their walks together. The first of the pleasures he had given up to his illness. Now he wished he hadn't been so quick to relinquish that recreation. Shadow was so steadfast; there was really very little danger of anything going wrong. But then again, he would have never forgiven himself if Tony had been hurt.
He put a hand on Shadow's forehead, resting it there gently, as if conferring a blessing, saying good bye to his friend. He put on his damp socks and shoes and gave the pony a final pat on the shoulder. He left the pony with his equine companion, the paddock gate making a metallic click as it he closed and latched it.
The trip back was a bit more difficult. His shoes were heavy, soaked with the water, dragging at his feet. His wet clothes, binding, sticking to his skin, restricting his movement. "Maybe there was a reason people didn't walk in the rain without the proper gear," he thought. The ionization of the air round him suddenly increased sharply. He dove reflexively to the ground, flattening himself as lightening hit a nearby tree.
He slowly rose to his feet, dazed from the experience. He had to be more careful. In his weakened condition a lightning strike could prove fatal. If he let himself be killed now, everything he had been through would have been for nothing. His emergency maneuver left him covered in mud from head to toe. It would be impossible now to reenter the house without leaving a rather visible trail.
He continued to slog on up the path. He had a bit of good luck when the rain increased in its intensity, coming down in sheets washing the worst of the mud off him. Once he was through the gap in the hedge, he saw the lights were on at the house, including all the outside lights, making a quiet return unlikely.
Jackie met him in the garden and wrapped a blanket around him. "What do you think you're doing, going out in this weather? You gave us all a scare when we saw your bedroom door open and you nowhere to be found. Where were you off to anyway?" she admonished him.
"I just wanted to go for a walk. Get a bit of fresh air."
"You couldn't have waited for better weather? You're soaked through to the bone. How did you get so much mud on you?"
"I slipped, no harm done. It's nothing."
"Well, this suit of yours is ruined. Come on, sit down here." She maneuvered him to a bench just inside the garden door. "Mary, go get his robe and slippers." she ordered the maid, who had been hovering nearby.
She took the soaked jacket, his shoes and socks off him. "What are you trying to do? Come down with pneumonia? You really need to take better care of yourself in your condition."
Jackie continued to reprimand him, her worry and concern showing in her voice, as she used the blanket to try to towel him off. The Doctor just sat there without comment, letting her take care of him, both embarrassed and comforted by her attentions.
When Mary returned with his slippers and robe Jackie helped him up to his room. He didn't need it, but it made her feel better, so he accepted her assistance. "Now I want you to take a nice long shower," She told him. "Get yourself warmed up, while I go fetch you some breakfast."
"I'd prefer to come down for breakfast."
"You sure?" Jackie reached up and brushed his soaked hair from his eyes. "You took this day off; you should use it to rest up."
"I don't want to spend it in my room alone."
"All right, suit yourself then. I'll get on with fixing your breakfast."
Jackie left him alone in the room. He sat down on the chair that was no longer occupied by equipment. He had transferred all his work to Pete, who'd moved the lab to a room in the basement of the mansion. He stripped off his wet clothes and left them in a pile on the floor. If he knew Jackie, they would magically disappear while he was in the shower. Lots of things had been magically appearing and disappearing in his room since his illness became known.
He entered the bathroom and turned on the shower as hot as he could stand it. He used the shower chair now, it was convenient. The shower head had been changed out to one attached to a hose so he could direct the water where he wanted it, very efficient actually.
He let the water sluice over him, washing off the rest of the mud, warming him up in the process. He used the soap Jackie supplied him. Like all the toiletries she equipped his bathroom with gentle but effective, with a pleasing scent that left him feeling clean and refreshed but not effeminate.
When he was done with his shower he toweled himself off and entered his room. His blue suit had been laid out on his bed, the wet clothes were gone as he had predicted. He dressed and went downstairs, his hair still damp.
He entered the kitchen expecting a light informal meal. He should have known better, when Jackie was feeling protective, she tended to go overboard.
Kippers, ham, potatoes, eggs, muffins, bacon, fried tomatoes, barbequed beans, bangers, waffles, three kinds of juice. The Doctor looked at it, hoping it wasn't all for him. "The local pony club dropping over for breakfast?" he asked.
Jackie laughed. "No, I just wanted to make sure I had all your favorites. I couldn't help but notice you are thinner than ever. You need to eat more."
The Doctor debated if he should explain to Jackie that he could eat everything on the table and he would still continue to lose weight. His weight loss was due to his ever diminishing energy level. His body was decreasing what it needed to maintain and at the same time harvesting the energy in his muscle tissue as it was destroyed, literally consuming itself. He decided instead to sit down and take advantage of Jackie's culinary efforts.
"So long as you aren't upset when I can't eat it all. I do appreciate all the work you have done here." He looked pointedly at the display of food on the table.
"No, no, I wouldn't want you to try to eat it all, I know I went a bit overboard. I didn't realize how much I made until I saw it all on the table." She replied as she poured the Doctor some of her tea.
The Doctor was hungry and applied himself to the food. He bit into a banger feeling the resistance of the skin which gave way suddenly as it was pierced by his teeth revealing a flavorful burst of seasoned fat and the rubbery bits of sausage within, it's pungent smell reaching his senses. The bacon was crisp without being burnt, the eggs scrambled to an almost creamy perfection.
Everything on the table proved to be brilliantly made. Jackie had outdone herself, and he found himself eating more that he had thought was possible. When he finished he sighed contentedly and got up from the table. "Thank you, that was very good. I'll get out of your hair now and do some reading."
"Go make yourself comfortable, I'll bring in some tea for you."
The Doctor went to the lounge with its tall windows facing the out to the garden. It was a bit lighter, the rain letting up a little, the lightning and thunder having retreated. He picked up some magazines out of the rack next to the couch, mind candy, nothing deep. He just wanted something to distract himself.
He sat down on the couch and started thumbing through his reading material. He became aware of a small figure in front of him. He looked up from an article on planting an herb garden to see Tony standing in front of him with a throw in his arms. "Dockor want?" Tony asked as he held out the throw.
The Doctor smiled at the young boy. "Sure, Tony. Thank you." He held up the magazine while Tony laid the throw on his lap and proceeded to tuck it around him. Tony had appointed himself keeper of the throw over a month ago, making sure the Doctor never sat down for long without having that additional warmth, relieving Jackie of the job.
Having seen to the Doctor's comfort, Tony climbed up on the couch next to him, leaning against him. Jackie entered with the tea. "Leave the man alone, Tony. He needs his rest."
"Jackie, he can stay. I would like that in fact."
"You sure?" Jackie asked as she set the tea down on the end table and poured him a cup. "I don't want him bothering you."
"He's not a bother. He's just the sort of company I could use today."
"Alright then, if that's what you want," Jackie said, her doubt showing in her voice. "If he becomes a bother, you send him to me."
Tony looked at his mother and very earnestly said, "I not bother Dockor. I be good."
Jackie smiled at him and ruffled his hair. "You had better be young man. Doctor, let me know if you need anything." With a final smile at the two of them she left the room.
Tony squirmed his way under the Doctor's arm and looked up at him. "Doctor, you feel better?"
The Doctor turned his head to look down at the boy and smiled. "I'm feeling fine Tony, just a little tired."
"Mum mad you all wet."
"I gathered that, I'm all dry now."
"Good. Not good when Mum mad." Tony said very seriously, a frown on his face.
He gave Tony a little reassuring squeeze. "I'll try not to make her mad then. You want me to read to you?"
"Yes, please."
"Alright, then." The Doctor took a sip of tea, picked up the magazine and proceeded to read to Tony about the growing of herbs for a kitchen garden, taking comfort in the young boy's presence and friendship. Sometime during a section about proper use of compost, the Doctor and Tony both fell asleep, the magazine, forgotten, slipping to the floor.