I do not own Doctor Who.
R&R please.
Rose watched Smith beam at her as she set the loaded plate in front of him. He wasn't like the other people she dealt with, other patients, less definable... other people were easier to map, you could see the lines where the crazy and sanity overlapped. Sometimes you could see it in how the insanity presented itself, and others you could see it because it wasn't always there. But with Smith she couldn't seem to find it. There was no sanity in him and yet it never seemed to leave. To be honest she wasn't quite sure what to do with him. So she settled for feeding him breakfast.
Smith was inspecting his plate with the same cheery grin that never seemed to leave his face. He plucked the banana from the corner, tucking it into a pocket and frowning when it continued to poke out noticeably.
"Squareness gun. I never liked them." He mumbled, trying to push it further into the pocket on his shirt. Rose 'hmm'ed in agreement. The banana suitably taken care of he turned to the rest of his tray. He took one look at the toast and tossed it over his shoulder, ignoring Rose's squawks of protest. She huffed at him and went to clean it up, he continued his exploration. The scrambled eggs suffered the same fate as the toast after passing under the light of Smith's flashlight, which he insisted on keeping with him, though nothing about it seemed to please him. This left his jello and his juice and Rose really didn't look forward to picking those up if they didn't pass the inspection. Luckily the jello seemed to please him and he muttered something about 'akhaten' and new flavors.
"Smith, you really need to eat something else..." Rose frowned in concern while Smith gave her a red stained grin. "Come on, there must be somethin' you wanna eat?"
He debated this, chewing slowly, (and uselessly, really) before swallowing heavily and turning bright eyes on her.
"Do you have custard? And fish!" he lurched to his feet, that same desperate need filling his face that had been present when he'd learned her name. "Yes. Fish feet, fish head...brains...spleen! Ahhh! Something!" He beat a fist against his head softly. "It's important! It matters!" He tugged at his hair, the tension growing in his face.
"Alright. Alright. Hey!" Rose stepped forward, prying his fingers from his scalp and holding them between her palms. "Alright. We'll figure it out? Yeah?" He was still twitching and mumbling, head bowed, eyes squeezed shut as if in pain. She tilted his face towards her, stroking a finger down his cheek. His eyes fluttered open, focusing on her with an emptiness that took her breath.
"Who am I?" His voice was so soft she might have missed it if it wasn't fanning across her face. She shook her head slowly, opening her mouth for a moment, before realizing there was nothing she could say. So she stroked his cheek one more time and when he lunged forward and wrapped his arms around her she didn't stop him. When the other orderlies stepped forward in concern she waved them down, and let him hold her, cradling his his head against her shoulder.
"Rose Tyler." His breath fanned across her neck, his bow tie chafing against her collarbone. "My- Not mine." He pulled back, refusing to meet her eyes. "Stone's Rose. Jimmy Stone." he mumbled sourly, twisting away from her hands. He turned from her, and she could feel the rage coming off him. The rage and confusion and just raw pain, swirling around her, like standing on the edge of a storm. And he was the eye, all stillness, poised. The rest of the world continued, making noises, and movements, but in the wake of him...everything seemed silent and still. And then the dam broke, the storm struck, Smith rushed forward with a broken cry that had her every hair on end, he grabbed the table and heaved. Upturning trays and glasses, dislodging people and breaking the calm with a crash. And still his scream of rage continued. Orderlies rushed in from every corner, big, strong men, and they grabbed at his elbows and shoulders and he shook them off and the storm continued, but now there were words. Broken. Angry. Words.
"WHY! WHY! WHY! WHYYYYYYYYYY!" his face was flushed and clenched and he turned on the orderlies, ripping at them, shredding. "WHY CAN'T I HAVE IT! KEEP IT! WHY DON'T I KNOW-" he slumped, suddenly drained, and the needle plunged into his arm and still he kept talking. "Why can't I...why do I always lose..." he ran a hand down his face, his movements slurred and drunken. "Who am I...why aren't I...why can't I be..." His knees buckled and his last word was a breath, a sigh she wasn't sure she heard.
"Happy."