Martha barely heard what the Doctor said before his eyes closed. "No, Doctor, don't go to sleep now," she urged. "I need you stay awake." There was no response, not even an eye flutter. She reached for his wrist as she continued to talk to him volume and urgency increasing. "Come on Doctor! Don't do this to me!" She felt for his artery and found it. She didn't need to look at her watch to tell his pulse was too fast. The skin beneath her fingers was damp, clammy. His chest was barely moving.
"I need that cart in here, now!" Martha yelled, her eyes never leaving her patient. "I think he's crashing, going into shock, or what counts as shock for him."
She heard Jack's rapid footsteps followed by the clatter of the cart. She gently lowered the Doctor's wrist, leaving it to rest on his chest. "I need the green tank, and the package next to it," she called out over her shoulder. Jack set the tank next to her and handed her the package. She tore open it revealing a mask complete with tubing. She jammed one end of the tubing over the ridged nozzle on the oxygen tank, turning the valve, resulting in the tank giving a satisfying hiss. She then deftly put the mask over the Doctor's nose and mouth.
"Now I need the backboard from the hallway, a cervical…uh a neck brace," Martha corrected herself, using language that Jack would be more likely to understand, "and one of the arm air braces in the cart.
"You think he fractured his spine?" asked Jack as he started rummaging through the cart.
"No, but I'm not sure what injuries he has, so I'm taking every precaution." Martha explained as she continued to examine her patient. His breathing was a little better with the oxygen, but still too shallow and his color hadn't improved as she had hoped. She fought to keep a tight rein on her emotions, she needed to concentrate on what she must do for him. Not on how she felt for him.
Jack handed her the air brace, the packet gave off the sharp odor of new plastic, like a child's beach ball when she tore it open. There was a ripping noise as she opened up the center of it, unsticking the plastic from itself, creating a tube. Since this was just a temporary measure, she slid it on over the Time Lord's coat sleeve and quickly inflated it. His one obvious break was now immobilized for transport.
Gwen was holding the backboard awaiting instructions and Jack now had the cervical collar in his hand. Martha reached for the collar first. The device was cold smooth white plastic on the outside and padded on the inside. She slid it carefully around the Doctor's neck and adjusted it to fit.
The backboard was next. She moved to the other side of the Doctor and gently rolled him towards her onto his right side while holding his broken arm carefully, ensuring there was no unnecessary movement of the injured limb. "Position the edge of the board right up against him," she instructed as she took advantage of the Time Lord's position to adjust the oxygen mask so it was more secure.
Gwen and Jack did as they were told and Martha rolled the Doctor back onto the board. Soon the straps were done up, the head bumpers secured and the oxygen tank lay between his knees, ready for transport. The Doctor had shown no sign of awareness during the entire procedure. Not even a groan or change in breathing. The only difference was that he was now shivering. She was losing this battle.
"Is the gurney ready?" Martha asked as she sat back on her heels and brushed a stray strand of hair out of her face with the back of her wrist.
"I think so," Gwen replied. "I moved it to the middle of the corridor, locked the wheels and put down the sides. Is there anything else that needs doing?"
Martha rewarded her with a brief smile. "No, you did everything right, let's get him on it."
Jack took the head of the backboard as he gestured with his chin for Gwen to take the corner at the foot across from Martha.
"On a count of three," instructed Martha, "one, two, three." The Unit doctor and the Torchwood agents lifted the Time Lord with ease and maneuvered him to waiting the gurney. Once he was on, Martha quickly covered him with a blanket shaking her head at his condition.
"I need a bolus of ringer's lactate and an IV kit," she called.
"Are you sure that's safe?" Jack asked as he went back to the cart.
"Trust me Jack, I know what I'm doing," came her tart reply as she pushed up the Doctor's sleeve and deftly applied a tourniquet to his right forearm. "I've read up on all the tests UNIT ran on him when they had him in their care. They pulled quite a lot of his blood and some was even preserved. His blood is slightly more saline than ours, but ringers will work quite well."
With a single finger, she lightly traced the veins on the back of his hand trying to determine a good injection site, impatient as the veins responded slowly. But finally a likely candidate appeared, bulging above the surrounding skin. She was tempted to use a pediatric needle but opted for a 16 gauge instead. He was extremely dehydrated and his internal organs were in peril. She wanted fluids in him as quickly as possible. The needle did its work and slid in easily. She removed it, leaving the more flexible and less painful cannula behind. Once the tubing from the bolus was attached she took off the tourniquet and adjusted the plastic clamp to start the flow.
"Hang that up," she instructed Jack, handing him the bolus. "I want to make sure that vein holds."
Jack did as instructed and hung the bolus from the IV stand attached to the gurney. "Is he going to be alright?" he asked.
"Too soon to tell," replied Martha, keeping her eyes on the IV site. There was no backflow or swelling. The vein appeared to holding. Letting out a long slow breath, she proceeded to tape the cannula and tubing in place as she continued, "I'm going to take it as a good sign that I didn't need to resuscitate him. Hopefully that remains the case." Assured that Doctor was now receiving the fluids he needed she turned on Jack.
"Now where's the TARDIS?" she demanded. "He needs to be there, not here."
"The TARDIS is out of play for the moment," explained Jack keeping his voice deliberately calm. "She threw him out when he first arrived and hasn't let anyone near her since."
"What? That's ridiculous! Tell me where she is. She'll let me in."
"Martha, when I said she's not letting anyone in, I meant it. I tried. In fact when I managed to get near her, she killed me."
"She what?!" cried Martha her tone and wide eyed expression filled with disbelief.
"She killed me, and since I'm the only one of us who can recover from that, I'm not letting anyone else try, including you. So let's get him to the infirmary and you can continue your treatment there."
Martha's shoulders slumped as she nodded her understanding. "I wish you had installed a lift into that room," she complained. "It's ridiculous that we have to transport patients up and down those stairs."
"It was meant more for specimens than patients," explained Jack as he started pushing the gurney out of the cell block. The clank and clatter of the thing as it hit each seam of the floor providing an odd back drop to the discussion. "We've just let it double as an infirmary since I started living here. Technically I'm supposed to transfer all human patients to the local hospital or UNIT."
"And do you do that?"
"We avoid it as much as possible. Security. If one person turns up at an A&E ranting specifics about here it's not a problem. A continuous stream however… We try to Retcon but there is always a chance we miss some passing orderly or cleaning person."
As they left the cell block with the Doctor they found Ianto waiting for them, holding what appeared to be handles attached to nothing. "I thought I told you to get some rest," snapped Jack.
"I did get a little, but then when I heard you moving him to the gurney, I thought you might be able to use these," Ianto explained hurt from the rebuke apparent in his voice.
Jack sighed. He should have realized his aide would be monitoring what was going on. "Alright, so what are these things?"
"They're from Torchwood One. A kind of anti-gravity device. They reduce the weight of anything you attach them to."
"You knew about these all along?" accused Gwen. "We could have used them at least when we had to get the ambassador up the stairs!"
"I'd forgotten about them," Ianto started in his defense.
"Let's not worry about that, now" Jack intervened. "Let's just get them attached and working."
The technology was one Jack apparently was vaguely familiar with and he attached them with relative ease. After that, the chore of getting the Doctor safely down into the infirmary was trivial. While the gurney didn't quite float, it was more a matter of guiding it than any real lifting. Martha went on ahead to prepare the bed leaving the transport of the Doctor to Gwen and Jack.
The transfer to the bed in the infirmary went without incident. Martha sighed with relief when the scanner there showed that the Doctor's spine was intact so the cervical collar and backboard could be removed. The other information it displayed was not so comforting. She looked down at his ashen face, covered with tiny beads of sweat, and dried blood the later indicative of internal bleeding which the scans confirmed. She picked up a bandage scissors, the instruments could only tell her so much.
"What are you intending to do with those?" Ianto asked.
"Cut his clothes off," Martha answered.
"Here, let me." Ianto held out his hand. "I've seen what Accident and Recovery does to clothing. I expect the Doctor would like to be able wear these again."
"There's no time. He can get another suit," Martha argued.
"I can do it just as fast as you can. Just give me the scissors." Ianto continued to hold out his hand.
Martha slowly shook her head in defeat, she had to admit the Doctor was proud of his clothes, despite the disheveled way he wore them. Reluctantly, she handed Ianto the disputed instrument. She had a spare she could use if his way proved too slow. There was a rapid popping sound as Ianto used the scissors to rip down the seams of the trousers, allowing them to be removed quickly with minimum movement of the patient. She had to admit it he was just as quick as she would have been.
"Alright, you're fast," Martha admitted. "If I take the air cast off, can you cut off the jacket and shirt, and not jar his arm?"
"Of course," replied Ianto not looking up from his work.
Martha deflated the cast and carefully removed it, then relieved of the duty of unclothing the Doctor, she busied herself examining each newly exposed body part His legs were shades of yellow, purple and black, badly bruised from the hard floor of the cell and the fits he had experienced, there were also numerous abrasions and minor lacerations. The good news was that his reflexes were intact, though the response was weak.
"I can't save this shirt, it's flat seamed it will take too long," Ianto explained, his voice edged with disappointment, "but I think I know where I can get him another just like it."
"I'm sure he won't mind," Jack assured him. "You've saved the suit after all. He should appreciate that. If he notices."
Martha covered the Doctor's legs with a sheet and looked up to see a totally deconstructed suit heaped on the counter as Ianto made quick work of the shirt. She wondered how that pile of rags could be turned back into anything worth wearing, much less a suit, before turning her attention back to her patient.
Ianto picked up the rags and turned to Jack. "If you don't need me sir, I'd like to get to work repairing this,"
"No, you need to get some sleep first," countered Jack. "Go home and come back when you have slept yourself out. The suit can wait."
"But…"
"No buts, get some rest. Gwen, Martha and I can handle this, and…" Jack looked over at the Doctor. "He's not going to be needing his suit for a while."
"As you wish sir." Ianto left the room still carrying the clothes and in a sullen mood. Jack watched him sadly. They had all been working too hard and they were too short staffed. If Ianto didn't get some sleep now Gwen might not be able get her rest later. That Ianto didn't realize that, showed how tired he was.
Martha hung several more boluses that fed into the IV line. Each line going through a machine that delivered those medications at a measured rate. She was frustrated. There really wasn't much she could do but provide supportive care. She gathered the materials she needed to cast the Doctor's broken arm.
"How's he doing?" Jack asked. Martha looked down at her patient, the bruises stood out against the pale, almost translucent skin. She tried to keep her emotions under control as she swallowed hard and forced her medical detachment back to the fore.
"Jack, I'm not going to lie, he's in a serious condition. He has extensive internal organ damage. What concerns me more than that though," she glanced at a monitor, "is his brain function. It's as if his brain had suffered an insult of some kind. If we have someone show up in A&E like this with a donor card…" She didn't finish the sentence. "But, he's breathing on his own, and that gives me hope. He's getting rehydrated, and I've added glucose and a few other items to the drip to give him some energy and nutritional support. It's going to be up to him now, unless we can get him into the TARDIS." She looked at the captain meaningfully.
"Right I'll get on that," Jack replied, as he turned and ran up the stairs.
Martha watched him go. The TARDIS had to let them in now. It was the best and possibly the only chance the Doctor had.
"Do you need any help?" Gwen asked, a concerned but hopeful look on her face.
Martha nodded. Even just some companionship right now would be useful. And it was time to take care of the Doctor's arm. It was still not set properly. "Actually I do, this arm's displaced and once I put it back in alignment I could use your help to keep it straight. Are you up for that?"
"Yes certainly," she answered with a quick nod. "I've had some training. Just tell me what to do."
"Good," Martha replied with a smile then turned her attention to the task at hand. The wrist itself was swollen and purple. The scan showed it was just a simple fracture, nothing that required plating. That was a relief. She considered if she should administer an analgesic while she set it. A quick glance and the monitors told her that would be unnecessary. At his current brain function levels she could crack his chest and he wouldn't feel a thing. She went to work on reducing the break. It was a distal fracture of what would be the radius and ulna in a human. The broken ends found each other without difficulty and set in place. She very gently eased up on the tension to see if the arm would stay and let out a long sigh when it did.
"Is everything alright?" Gwen asked.
"Yes," Martha replied, "for once something's going our way. We should be able to cast this without too much trouble. Come over here and I'll show you how need to hold it for me."
Gwen was a quick study and with her help Martha was able to swiftly cast the Doctor's arm. "We'll most likely have to do this again in a few days," she explained to Gwen as she removed her gloves.
Gwen furrowed her brows and looked at Martha quizzically. "Why?"
"It's swollen now and once it starts to heal and the swelling goes down it's not going to fit any more."
"Ah, that makes sense. What do we do now?"
Martha scrutinized the Doctor. She had taken care of what major items that she could. He was covered in sweat and blood. It was time to take care of that. She looked around the room, and shrugged, a heating cabinet would have been too much to ask for. "Is there a dryer around?"
"A dryer?"
"Yes, I need some warmed blankets to get his temperature up. They can be warming in the dryer while we clean him up."
"There is a small one. I don't think it can hold more than one blanket."
"That's a start. Get this one going and when you get back, we'll clean him up." Martha handed Gwen a cotton blanket that she felt would hold up well to the heat of the dryer.
With Gwen on her errand Martha at last was alone and could let her professional demeanor drop. She stared at the Doctor, one hand on the bed rail feeling like ice under her hand. Her other hand covering her mouth as she shook her head and blinked away the tears. He looked like death. There was none of that spark, that spirit that she loved. Just a pale blank unmoving body. The monitors confirmed what she felt. She brushed his hair from his face, her fingers feeling the grease and particles of dirt that clumped the stands together. She grimaced as she made a mental note to get some dry shampoo in. She laid the back of her hand against his cheek. Cold, colder than even he should be.
Her throat was tight as she turned her attention to the IV line and the boluses attached to it. She told Jack she knew what she was doing. She hoped she hadn't been lying to him. The cocktail she was giving was based on files she had seen at UNIT, constructed from knowledge of what the Doctor ate and tests that had been run on his blood. What she had, should provide some support and aid him in getting through his current crisis. She prayed desperately it wouldn't hurt him. She wished she had someone to consult with, but in this, she was the only expert.
At the sound of the door at the top of the stairs opening, she pushed her fears and uncertainties aside, turned to the counter as she wiped away her tears, washed her hands and readied what she needed to continue treating the Doctor.
A couple of plastic basins thumped hollowly on the counter. They were joined by stacks of disposable wash clothes, plastic backed pads, a mild disinfectant soap, and an antibiotic ointment. She filled one of the basins with warm, almost hot water.
"Do you need anything?" asked Gwen coming up behind her.
"That table over there." Martha indicated a small metal table on wheels normally used for surgical instruments.
Gwen brought it over and without being asked loaded it with the two basins and the rest of the supplies Martha had brought out. "So where do we start?" she asked. "Head or the feet?"
"Head," replied Martha. "I know I'll feel better once I get that blood off his face."
The two women went to work. Using the plastic backed pads to prevent the bed from getting damp. Quickly they developed a system where Gwen would clean and Martha would treat the minor lacerations and abrasions the time in the cell had caused. Soon the job was over. The sheets were changed and Gwen left to get the heated blanket.
The fresh smell of soap lifted Martha's spirits. The Doctor's complexion even looked a little better. A quick look at the monitors however, told her that was an illusion, any change was purely cosmetic. The cleanup had been more for her morale than for his health. His body shuddered briefly almost dislodging the sheet that covered him. She smoothed the bed clothes, cool and smooth to the touch, back into place, wondering what the shudder meant. Was it something starting? Something ending? Something healing? Something failing? The monitors showed no change. Whatever it was they couldn't measure or detect it.
She touched his arm and felt the hair standing more erect, the rough goose bumps on his skin as his body making a vain attempt to fluff fur that evolution had denied him. Gwen had taken the other blanket with her to put in the dryer. Her lab coat was at least warm from her own body heat. She took it off and laid it over him. Inadequate as a cover, but would have to do till Gwen returned.
She picked up a simple plastic comb and applied it to his hair. They might not be able to wash it but at least she could make it look neat. Again more for her benefit than his. The comb slid smoothly through his hair aided by the oils that had built up. After only a few strokes the comb was dirty. She took an alcohol wipe to clean it. That would dry faster than soap and water. Since the Doctor was cold she didn't want his head wet. She continued in the same way for a few minutes. Then heard footsteps on the stairs. Gwen with the warmed blanket.
"He does looked better now," Gwen commented as she handed the blanket to Martha.
Martha looked down at the Doctor and laid the blanket on top of him. "Yes, he doesn't look quite so bad now, and…" she paused as she smoothed the blanket wishing he could feel its soothing warmth as she did, "just having everything smell clean helps. With my morale at least."
"Mine too," responded Gwen with a smile and a bright promise of friendship in her eye. "I don't know, for some reason now I think he might have a chance. I didn't before."
Martha studied the monitors which told her she had no right to the optimism she felt. She temporized however for the other woman's sake. "He has a chance, a small one. I'd feel better if the ambassador had survived. Or we had access to the TARDIS." She turned back to Gwen, puzzled. "Where is Jack anyway? Is the TARDIS that far away?"
"No it's actually quite close. Parked at the water tower. It just takes a while to get to it."
"The water tower? But I looked when I drove here, I always do, just in case."
"Did you?" Gwen asked. "Are you sure?"
Martha was about to respond and stopped. She couldn't remember actually looking for the TARDIS. She rubbed her forehead as she tried to remember what had distracted her from checking the Plass as she had driven by. "No, I'm not." Concern was apparent in her voice.
Gwen put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Don't worry. It's not you, it's the TARDIS," she explained softly. "It's preventing people from noticing it and is somehow pushing people away. From what Jack has said you have to not think about getting to it to get to it."
"I'm not sure I understand but I'll take your word for it."
"I didn't really understand either, but it works for him apparently. Is there anything else we need to do?
"No the scrub up was the last step," Martha replied with a smile. "Thank you for your help."
"A scrub up?" came a voice from the top of the stairs. "Why didn't you wait for me? I'd have helped. It would have beat waking up in that ambulance."
"Jack! Can you just for once…" Martha shook her head and didn't finish the question. She knew the answer. He couldn't. He was what he was. Instead she asked the question she didn't know the answer to. "Wait. Why did you wake up in an ambulance?"
"Concerned citizen apparently," Jack explained as he descended the stairs. "The TARDIS threw me out of the perception filter zone. Someone called the rescue squad. They almost went off the road when I woke up on them. Then I had to pull my gun out to get them to let me go." His voice turned serious when he was next to the Doctor's bed. "I'm sorry Martha, the TARDIS is still out of the question. How's he doing?"
"We're having to use warmed blankets on him," Martha explained as her hopes for a speedy recovery for her patient in the TARDIS sank. "He doesn't appear to be regulating his temperature properly." She slid her hand under the blanket and felt his arm. The hair was flat, the goose bumps gone. "The blanket seems to be working. Any chance we can get a warming cabinet in here."
"I'll check on that. What else is going on with him?"
"Nothing Jack, Literally nothing. His life signs are perfectly stable. He's not getting worse but he's not healing either. All we can do is watch, keep him on the oxygen and fluids, keep him warm. I don't know what else to do. It's up to him."
Jack stared at the Doctor, Martha could tell he was wondering the same thing she was. Was the Doctor coming back? Or was this immobile body the last they would see of him.
"Martha," he said quietly. "I need you to get some sleep. I'll take over for now. We'll get you a room nearby."
"Jack, no, I need to stay here. What if he has a pulmonary crisis and he needs to be intubated? You can't handle that. Besides you must be more tired than I am. It's you who should get some sleep."
"I must be the only boss who has a problem getting his people to take a break," the captain complained with a sigh. "I'm fine, side effect of being dead, I don't come back tired. So, since you won't go to a hotel, how about we set up a cot in this room for you. I'm sure alarms will sound and wake you if he gets worse. Will that work for you?"
"Yes, that will be fine," she replied knowing there was no way she could sleep, but just lying down could help and would stop Jack from worrying about her.
"Good, we'll set that up. Anything else you need?"
Martha smiled and said through a yawn, "I could use another warm blanket for him."
"I'll go get it," offered Gwen and she ran up the stairs.
Soon the Doctor was under a fresh blanket, and a military cot was set up at one end of the room, complete with rough wool blankets and an almost flat pillow. Jack had shrugged when Martha examined them. "What can I say, I kept them from my RAF days," he apologized.
"I'm surprised they survived." Martha rejoined with a wry smile. "They'll be okay. Reminds me a bit of my training in UNIT."
The captain returned her smile. "So time for you to rest?" It was phrased as a friendly question but Martha knew it was an order.
"I just have to check the IV and the oxygen tank. Then, I promise, I'll take a break."
"Alright, I'll leave you to it then," Jack's eyes fell on the Doctor, his hand started to move towards the bed but stopped. Instead, he turned away and started up the stairs, Gwen following him.
A couple of the boluses were running low and needed to be swapped out. Martha took care of that, then checked the oxygen which needed no adjustments. She did one final check of the monitors which disappointingly showed no change, and then there was nothing left to do. The lights dimmed, Martha sat on the cot and took off her shoes before lying down on her side so she could watch the Doctor. She let her eyes close. For just a few seconds she told herself. But physical and emotional exhaustion had its way and sleep took her.