Chapter 4

November 26th, 1913

"Martha, don't just stand there! Help us hold her!" Matron screamed as she filled a needle with what Martha could only assume was a sedative. Unlocking herself from her trance she stepped forward slowly, making eye contact with the woman in bed.

"Please! Stop! Let me go please!" She pleaded with the nurses but they ignored her as they began to tie her down to the bed. "Please, please stop." Her voice was growing weaker, the cracked tone nearly drawing a tear from Martha. She placed herself at the head of the bed and put her hands on the woman's shoulders, not ready to accept who she really was. The woman looked up at her and for a moment Martha saw a flash of gold in her eyes like a lighthouse in the middle of the night, piercing through the dark.

"Please, please I don't belong here, please stop them." She begged with Martha but she could only continue to stare as she kept a comforting grip on her shoulders. Before she could examine her further, Joan stuck the sedative into the back of her thigh, injecting it slowly as the woman's eyes began to close. "Please, please," She mumbled one last time as sleep overcame her and she went limp in Martha's arms.

"Dear god, what happened to her," One of the nurses whispered, covering her mouth to hide her cries at the horrid sight. Even though it was almost a century earlier, Martha had realised that women still understood the evils of man and what they were capable of. She had seen it all the time working in a hospital, women completely destroyed by violent men, whether they knew them or not. More often than not, they knew them well.

But in this scenario, as she stared down at Rose, she couldn't imagine it was that simple. The five women in the room tended to her wounds carefully, the most severe ones being three broken ribs and the laceration on the back of her head. Despite the amount of blood and cuts, she was relatively okay. Although Martha would have put her through multiple ultrasounds and MRI's if it were her world. Instead as the nurses began to filter out, giving the young woman their prayers, Martha offered to stay with her overnight.

The Matron begrudgingly agreed, still wary of Martha's ability, but her calm demeanour during the woman's episode had convinced her enough. Then it was silent, the only sound being Rose's shallow breathing. If this woman even was Rose, Martha couldn't be sure. Perhaps she had a doppelganger or a great grandmother that looked exactly like her. But she knew, eyes don't just glow for no reason. Usually the Doctor was involved.

But Martha had hope that once she had awoken and regained her senses, that she would be able to help in keeping the Doctor safe. If she loved him as much as the Doctor's eyes revealed, then she knew she had a friend in all of this, someone she could tell the truth to. So she sat by her bedside for hours, a book in hand as the night grew older and the sky began to lighten. Just as she began to doze, she heard a groan from the bed and her eyes shot open.

Rose was stirring in her sleep and she could see her eyes moving beneath the lids, signifying a dream. For a moment Martha watched as she mumbled to herself, trying to make out any words but it was too jumbled to pick up on. The girl in bed furrowed her brow and Martha could see the dream was turning into a nightmare.

When she let out her first scream, Martha stood immediately and placed her hands on the woman's cheeks. She tapped her slightly,

"Hey, you're alright now. It's alright, you're safe." She soothed and just as the woman seemed to be calming down a bit, her eyes shot open like a bullet and stared straight into Martha. They were gold, her eyes were definitely gold and when Martha looked closer she could see movement within them, like swirling pools of liquid glitter, a whole world inside.

"Hey, are you with me? You're alright. You're safe." Martha said calmly, remembering her bedside manner immediately, brushing some of the matted hair away from her face before sitting down on the bed next to her, placing one hand on her arm tentatively. She had no idea what this woman had been through, what she had seen. And if she really was who Martha believed her to be, then her past was a lot darker than anyone could imagine.

"Can you tell me your name?" The question had a double meaning, one she was hoping the woman wouldn't pick up one. Every time Martha blinked she imagined that another woman would appear when her eyes opened. But it was the same face, the same golden eyes that were now fading into a hazel brown.

She was silent, almost like she were unable to move her mouth in response, like she hadn't used it in years.

"It's alright. I promise you, you're safe. I won't let anyone hurt you." Martha tried to comfort the girl but could see the distrust as clear as day. Whatever she had seen, Martha knew this couldn't be the same Rose the Doctor knew. Not with fear like that.

"Do you remember your name?" She asked again and the woman blinked, something Martha realised she hadn't been doing the whole time. When the girl looked around, she noticed her hands and feet were tied to the bed and Martha could see panic building again.

"It's alright, it's alright, look, look." She untied the straps and allowed the woman to bring her wrists to her chest, inspecting how raw they had become yet somehow ignoring all her other wounds. She looked at Martha silently, wide eyes focused on every moment. Martha had worked shifts in trauma before, she had learned what was needed and how to keep patients calm when they had been hurt by others. Slow movements, hands where they can see them, eye contact but not too much.

"I promise you, you're safe." She smiled softly, hoping to gain her trust at least a little. The girl looked around the room, observing her surroundings before her eyes settled back on Martha.

"Can you tell me your name? Or maybe what happened?" The girl looked down at herself as if she too were seeing her injuries for the first time. Her hand went to the back of her head where the bandage had been wrapped the thickest and winced at the touch, seeing blood on her fingers when she brought them to her eyes.

"Yeah, probably shouldn't touch that. It looks like you hit your head pretty hard, can you remember what happened?" The girl remained fixated on her fingers, in a way where she almost welcomed the sight of blood. And without lifting her eyes, she spoke,

"I- I can't recall a thing." Her voice was weak and Martha immediately stood up to pour her a glass of water. She handed it to the woman who gulped it down in mere seconds before handing the empty glass back to her.

"What about your name? Or maybe the date?" Martha wondered if she was pushing too hard, but this wasn't just a patient in a hospital bed that she didn't know, it was Rose. The Doctor's Rose.

"No, no. I- where am I?" The question dropped Martha's hopes a bit. She was begging for this woman to know as much as she did, to help her in these months.

"You're at the MacTire Dona School for Boys, in the medical wing. They found you out on the road like this alone. Do you know what year it is?" She could see the panic starting up again in her eyes and Martha reached out a hand to place on top of the womans'.

"That's alright. It'll come back. I promise. It's late November 1913. Christmas is coming up, yeah?" The girl looked to the window, noticing the layers of snow outside and staring absently.

"Are you hungry?" At this her head whipped around to Martha and her pupils dilated like a wolf, nodding her head aggressively and putting a hand on her stomach like she hadn't eaten in days.

"I'll fetch you something. Can I trust you to stay here while I'm gone? I promise I will be right back?" The woman nodded again, this time more patiently and began to stare out the window again.

"Snow…" She mumbled as her eyes dropped slightly. Martha was sure whatever this girl had been through, it had spent all her energy. When her eyes fully closed Martha left to fix her a small meal despite the early hours meaning she had to start her daily routine soon. And yet she was wide awake in thought as she made her way to the kitchen across the grounds.

If Rose didn't remember anything, she instantly became a threat to the mission. If Doctor Smith saw her, Martha had no idea what it would stir up inside. Somehow, she had to keep them apart for the remainder of their time here. Once he was back he could fix her, return her memories to her somehow. But for now, she could not allow them to meet.

And Martha began to think, why now? Why had she returned at the worst time? Why here? Where was she?

Every description the Doctor had given of her final resting place had seemed barbaric, destructive, brutal and unending.

How did she escape?

Did she even have her mind anymore after so much time alone in hell?

How would John Smith react to his imaginary girl being real?