sirenspull_logs | Expiration Date

Entry tags:

Expiration Date

Who: The Tenth Doctor

recidivus
When: forward dated to Friday night. ~~because of hiatuses and lack of internet access it's going up now~~
Where: Their apartment of sickness and horror.
Summary: Ten's been sick for a few days, but just in the wee early hours of this morning... his first heart gave out. He knows its only a matter of time, now. But hey. Rose doesn't have to know that, too.
Warnings: SICKNESS AND DEATH AND SADNESS

[There's a thumping from the Doctor's room, from the bed that had been previously unused, but now housed him nearly twenty-four seven. He'd been ill and napping the first few days, dizzy and feverish but pushing through it. But ever since Thursday afternoon, he hadn't been able to get up, no matter how hard he tried. And damnit if he hasn't tried. He's fairly sure both Rose and Jack have held him down a few times, to keep him from falling off the side in an attempt to prove he was fine, but then again that might have been a dream, a nightmare brought on by the heavy, dead feeling inside his chest. The still weight of an unmoving heart.

But when Rose comes in to check the source of the noise, she'll just find the Doctor sitting in bed, laying back against the mess of pillows keeping him propped up, staring mournfully down at the phone on the floor, a phone that had been on the bedside table. Looks like even though the poor thing could barely move, he'd wanted to try and reach someone. To make a post. Ask a question.

Or maybe just try again to convince them that even with his skin looking grey and waxy, with dark circles under his eyes, the draw of skin over sunken cheeks from a few days spent doing nothing but throwing up everything he'd put into it.... that despite all of that, he was fine. He was the Doctor. And he was always fine.]

... Meant to do that.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Never ever ends. Especially with how he's puffing out his cheeks a bit and reaching for her hand, missing once, but getting it the second time, ignoring the fact that his palms are clammy, his fingers trembling just a bit. No, instead he's focusing on wrapping both his hands around hers, on pushing that smile on his face a little more, to get it past tired and on to reassuring.]

Rose. I'm fine. [He pauses, taking in a slow breath, hating how shallow it is, how he has to depend on those air pockets to fill instead of his lungs. Dead things hanging in his chest] How about a cuppa? Could use one.

[He'll be dead in a few hours at most, a few minutes at the least.]

[Painful as it is to see, she knows he's trying. Really trying. Which is so worrisome, and comforting at the same time. Sick as he might be, he hadn't lost his mind.

So it's ... a hesitant moment later, that she's biting her tongue and nodding, shifting up and out of her seat to go fetch some ready-made tea. She'd been guzzling the stuff to keep her nerves down for the past few hours, anyway.]

[He's keeping up that smile until she's gone out the door, even chewing on his tongue at the side of his mouth a bit. But the moment she moves out of sight, as soon as he can hear her in the kitchen? It's as if a dam is breaking.

His skin pales, his heart stutters, he pushes the air out of his lungs, screws his face up and leans to the side, fingers gripping at the sheets as he struggles quietly to force air back in his lungs, to force them to work again, to expand. His vision is prickling, little dots of black taking over as he gasps shallowly a few times, as he slams a fist into his chest as hard as he can - which, given his strength right now, isn't hard at all - and...

There. A little flutter, a little expansion. He sucks in a greedy breath, falls back into the pillows, and shakes from exertion, filling his body with air, with the oxygen it needs to keep everything still moving.

Fifteen seconds, that's all it had been. The struggling, the quiet gasping for air that wouldn't come. But the time before that it had been ten seconds, and the time before that five.

He's getting worse.]

[She's only gone half a minute, pouring his tea straight, two sugars, and ... taking a moment to compose herself. Worst that could happen was ... he'd regenerate. That's all. He wouldn't just die and be done with it. He wasn't human. He was a Time Lord.

So back in she goes, bringing a cup and a cool cloth in hand, for the fever.]

[His eyes are closed when she walks in this time, a fresh sheen of sweat on his body, his limbs still shaking. He can hear her, knows she's there... but it takes a moment for him to wrench his eyes open, to blink blearily up at her and try and push himself up, failing once before he catches his elbow at the right angle, hoisting himself further up the pillows, reaching out with shaky hands for the tea.]

Thanks... [Yeah. His voice is weaker, now. Weaker and almost a bit clumsy. Like he's losing that perfect control of his tongue]

[She's clucking her tongue at his attempts to constantly sit up whenever she's there- he doesn't need to, nor should he at all. Still, she lets him do as he pleases, helps hand him his tea, keeping a hand near in case he drops the damn thing, and sets to work cooling the sides of his temple, forehead and neck.]

... Be nice t'have the sick bay right about now. [A beat.] Don't s'pose you think the TARDIS might know something? Th'human her, I mean.

[He holds off on saying that even if he had the sick bay and all its fancy equipment, he's fairly sure he wouldn't have been able to find the cure for this thing in time. Not with how quickly its progressing.

Still, he holds the cup gingerly, carefully, fingers shaking from the effort but damnit he's determined. Determined to lift it up to his lips, to take a sip and... shit. Almost dropped it. He hisses under his breath as it slips down a bit in his lax fingers, managing to catch the cup against his chest, holding it there with the added support of his body as he just... relaxes back into the pillows, into the touch of that cold cloth against his skin.]

Knows a bit of everything, her. She... [He trails off, blinking slowly over bleary eyes, before his eyebrows pinch, and he tongues the roof of his mouth, as if dragging himself back from some sort of haze.] She might. But... well... probably has her hands full over there, making sure her Doctor doesn't...

[And there he goes again. Trailing off]

[Her own mind is trailing off, thinking of the other Doctor- of Amy and the TARDIS, wondering if they're doing just what she and Jack have been. The NV in her pocket, and even the Doctor's own, sitting just behind her ... she could easily contact them and ask. But if they were in the same situation as she, then it was probably best to just leave them to it. If it did get much worse, then maybe she would...

Right now, all she could do is keep cooling his skin, reach up and help him steady the cup, bite and chew her lip in agitation. It wasn't just her imagination that he was getting ... worse, was it?]

Maybe.. [And hey, he's trailing off again.] Oi. How many fingers? [She's holding up three, thumb and ring finger held down.]

[Even worse than you know, Rose. He'd announced his first heart going, sure. But this... this is him knocking at death's door, kindly asking for a few more minutes to try and keep Rose company, to just have a few more moments of being with her, reassuring her...

He's seen how death works, here. He's watched the Network enough. Sometimes people come back from the dead, other times they don't. Or they come back again, months later, with no memory of anything they'd been through here.

He just hopes his is the first option.]

Hmm? [He hums, blinking, realizing that she'd asked him something, was holding up her hand and- shit. He'd say six, but he's not that stupid. He can see the two fingers being held down, so even though his vision is doubled, swimming, blacked out in places, he still gives her a calm really, Rose? look] Three.

[..That took a bit of time to answer, but at least he did. Even got it right, which might still be earning him a 'shut up, i'm checking' sort of look, but still.]

Soon as you're better, we're goin' out for a picnic. Maybe find some trouble along the way. [Because what else is there to do than not focus on how .. not okay, he was doing?]

Hah. [He manages a bit of a grin, lifting the mug of tea up again, shifting around until he's mostly sitting up, so he can take a sip of it and-

The next thing he knows, it's slipping from his fingers, falling onto his chest and spilling down into the bed around him. That... hadn't been what he meant to do, so why...

Oh. Oh damnit. He hadn't noticed before, had been too busy worrying about his breathing, about smiling and holding on, on seeing how many fingers Rose was holding down in order to get how many were hold up he hadn't noticed...

The heart still working is starting to fail.]

Picnic'd be... fanta-... no, hold on. [He reaches up, rubbing at his face and ugh his heart needs to stop doing that. Needs to stop jerking and stuttering in his chest.] Brilliant. It'd be brilliant.

[...Odd lack of reaction to the spill of tea, but Rose can curse and surge forward to wipe up the mess- at least her reflexes are good enough to have her grabbing the cup before it can completely spill- she'd still had a hand lingering close, after all.]

Brilliant picnic. Are you okay? Did it burn you? [Why are you so out of it? Is it the fever, did he need to sleep more? ... Was he just falling asleep?]

[Because his second heart is starting to give. Because he can't breathe, can barely see, and his heart is starting to give out.

Screw the two hour mark, he'll be lucky to make it another twenty minutes at this rate. Even luckier to stay conscious another four or five. But then again, he'd shattered even more impossible statistics before.

He does blink down at where she's wiping up the spill of tea, and just manages to pick idly at the few damp spots on his shirt. His skin's so warm, now, he'd barely even felt the change in temperature.]

Nah, no burns... Time Lord, remember? Takes more than... [Blink. Breathe. Speak.] -tea to...

Sorry, what? [He could have sworn she- did she say something else?]

Edited 2012-05-16 23:28 (UTC)

[She's really trying to ignore the fact of just how still his chest feels as she mops up the bit of spill. It's just because he's only got one heart going- that's all. Just ... that's all.]

I just asked if you were hurt. [Frown.] How's your heart?

Nothing- [... Oh. He's. Hearing things. Lovely, that's just... lovely.

He's a little wary about where Rose is wiping, though, more than a little aware of how her hand was pressed against the still side of his chest. He remembers, from that time he'd spent mostly unconscious at the beginning of this regeneration, how she'd reacted when his heart had gone that time. How careful she'd been with him, how she'd sat and cared for him, rarely leaving his side.

It kills him, now, to know that in a few minutes, there won't be anything left to care for.]

Trudging along. [He smiles wearily, not even trying to sit up as he sinks into the mess of pillows] So that... that picnic. Might just get you to spoil me. Make the food.

I cook too much, deserve a bit of a break.

[There's a snort, hand still wiping, but ... maybe forcing herself to ignore the uncomfortable stillness there.]

Yeah, see. Ordering out doesn't count as cooking, mister. [She's teasing. Jack orders out more than any of them.] S'pose I can whip somethin' up... I'm not the best cook, so unless you want like. Cuppa noodles or some sandwiches or somethin'.

[She's back to chewing her lip again, shifting in her seat, folding the cloth over and moving back to his forehead. She might seem like she's got it together... But she's worried. Scared. He shouldn't be this sick. Time Lord's don't get this sick, not without..]

Doctor. If you... If you- you know. D'you think you're gonna regenerate?

[He knows she's scared. He's seen this look on her face before, when she's so near breaking, but is trying to hold it together, to appear calm and strong, even when on the inside she's trembling and falling to pieces. It's why he reaches a shaky hand up, to press his hand over hers, to hold it there against the side of his face as he manages another smile.]

I'm not dying, Rose. I promise. [Lies. Such blatant lies. And every word he says feels like a knife is stabbing into his heart, makes it falter and stutter even more than it was, has his eyes drooping just a bit before he forces them back open.

He has to keep lying. For her.]

[Her hand pauses it's work as his presses over it, making her lip tremble ever so briefly- before she reigns it in and stiffens her back.]

You cheat death. [She's trying to see if he's avoiding answering. Because... well. Regenerating wasn't dying- well it was, but .. he'd still be here. Sort of.]

M'I gonna get a New New New Doctor?

[He huffs the tiniest laugh at that, letting his hand drop back down, folding it across his stomach to try and soothe the burn in his chest right now, unable to keep his eyelids from drooping a bit more than they were. He's getting tired, sluggish. He's starting to feel his mind fog and close in around the edges.

And he hates it.]

More like New New New New New New New New New New New Doctor. But you already know what he's like.

[He shakes his head, letting his eyes close once as he concentrates on a deep breath, so thankful at least one of his lungs is still working with him.]

But that's not... a problem right now, Rose.

[For whatever reason, she's moved from patting the now-warm cloth against his forehead, to gently petting the corner of his hair. She'd grabbed handfuls of this before in the throes of... A memory she'll keep tucked away in her mind forever. She's even smiling at his 'correction'.]

S'still not you. Or not... the you from here an' now. He doesn't have these memories.

[Memories. Of this place. Of when they'd all taken advantage of each other. Something flashes in his eyes, and maybe that's what does it. Maybe that's what pushes him over the precipice of recovery.

Just that one little grain of guilt - the guilt of using her and Jack like that... of using them - and the entire mountain overbalances, comes crashing down. His heart jerks and stops in his chest, his eyes screw shut, his eyebrows knitting together (is this it? Is this really it? Now? No. He wants to respond. Just a few more minutes, please. Let him reassure her, let him-)

A beat. Two. Slow and laborious, but it's still beating.]

No, he doesn't. Which is why I'm- [His face scrunches up, pain and discomfort radiating from his chest, the fog of his brain just... it's so hard to think. Is this what humans always feel like? So... limited?]

I cook too... much... that... [No. No, no. Wrong topic, that isn't... he'd already said that] I'm not... going anywhere.

[Come on brain. Please, just for a little longer]

[A little longer till what, Doctor? Till she's out of the room? You think it'd be better if she went out to get something, came back to find a corpse?

Her brow pinches as he fumbles words, topics, leaves her hand pausing it's petting, eyes looking back to try and catch a set of dark brown. (So different from the hazel blue of his next face. Not the icy blue of his ninth self, nor the brown of this one.)]

If- If you need to, it's okay. You can if you have to. I won't- [She won't have a fit for it. Much as she's desperate to be selfish, demand he stays this way... If it meant losing him forever, she'd let it go. She'd had more time with him.]

[That had been the plan, actually. To ask her to get something. Water. To get water because his throat hurt. Because then, at least, she wouldn't have to see it. To see the awareness slipping out of his eyes like it is now, to see his body go still, the last breath of air slipping from his lungs.

Much like it is now. He's running out of time. Every breath he takes he can feel getting less and less, the darkness is engulfing his mind, thought is so hard. His eyes are bleary, Rose a blur of pink and yellow above him. He can't move his legs, can't feel most of his body, can barely manage to huff out a little laugh.]

No, it's... he's here already, Rose. Who I'd turn into. If I regenerate... it might be too much for the Core, it'd... [Kill you. Him. Everyone. It might break whatever balance there still is, here.

He's dying. And for the first time since he'd gotten sick, he hadn't had the energy or state of mind to lie about it. And while the guilt is weighing down on him, that little bit of strength the truth brought him got his eyes to slip open, a breath to return to his body.

Maybe he really can hang on for a little while longer.]

That picnic... I know a place, found it a few... days ago. Overlooks the sea. Could invite the TARDIS, Amy. The other Doctor. [Maybe he can...]

Could... make a right trip out'f it. Would be... nice just...

[Maybe...] Rose... can you... my sonic? It's in the drawer, just over... [The last of his strength goes to tilting his head, to reaching over to take Rose's hand and squeeze gently, to try and get her to look away, to not see the life leaving his body.

Because with his next breath, as his eyes slide shut...

He's gone.]

Edited 2012-05-17 00:48 (UTC)

[He'd nearly get his wish, to be honest. But Rose wasn't stupid. She knew something was wrong. Something was really wrong, with how he was slipping, not moving or enunciating or even trying anymore. It had never been this bad. And maybe he'd forgotten, but he'd asked for his sonic a day ago, had left it hanging out of his hand when he'd fallen asleep, so she'd tucked it into his pocket.

He wouldn't be able to reach the drawer on his own.]

We'll all go. You, me, Jack, Amy- Th'TARDIS.. [She'd meant both him when she'd said 'you', technically.] It'll-- It'll be fantastic, yeah?

[She hadn't meant her voice to crack on that last bit. Hadn't meant to let her eyes water because something really was wrong. He wasn't looking at her, wasn't responding like he should have, was going cold again in a way that didn't mean his fever was breaking.

He wasn't breathing.]

.. D-- [No. No, no no. He's not- He's not glowing, he's not sleeping, he's not waking up and he shouldn't be--] Doctor. Hey. Doc... Jack! Jack! He's not-- Doctor, please- You can't-- Wake up, damn you! Regenerate! I-I know you can!

[Because he wasn't waking up. Wasn't flinching, wasn't twitching or breathing or thumping away in his chest like he did when he was unconscious. Slapping his cheek wasn't helping, shoving his shoulder, standing up and giving him a shake that might have rattled a human senseless.]

Wake up! Please- you can't--! Jack! Help me, please! [Had he gone out? Was he even home? Was she just ... screaming for help in an empty house?]

[Jack is home, of course -- he wouldn't leave, not when the Doctor was like this, like he'd so rarely seen him before. Yes, he knew about regeneration, about all the coming back thing, but he'd never actually experienced it like Rose had.]

[Truth be told, though, he wasn't feeling so hot himself. Which was just about as odd as the Doctor being ill, Jack didn't get sick. He hadn't in over a century. But here he is, stumbling from his room, pale and a little sweaty.]

What -- what happened?

[She knows Jack has been in worse shape than herself- still not as bad as the Doctor but... with the worse than unconscious Time Lord in front of her, she can't make herself not call for the Captain's help. She's too busy gripping pinstriped fabric and trying to see through watered eyes.

It's not really working.]

He's-- He said he wasn't gonna regen-regenerate-- Jack, he's not--

No. Dammit. [He's racing over now, sprawling beside Rose and shaking the Doctor, for all the good it will do. Predictably enough, it doesn't do a thing.

....That is, except bring back all the memories. All the people he's left to die, all the people that have died because of Jack, because of Torchwood, everyone he's left in the past century and a quarter. If anyone knows what death looks like, it is Jack Harkness, and he grits his teeth and slams his hands down on the side of the bed.]

No. You listen to me, you are not going to leave us like this. Not again.

[She's only moving marginally over for Jack as he thumps down beside her, shakes him, shouting... It doesn't do a damned thing. She's already choking back tears, gulping breaths that just seem too heavy to take- this isn't right. He's not supposed to die. He's supposed to regenerate, turn into someone new but still him, not leave her- them.]

He can't... Jack, he's not... Why isn't he regenerate? [Because she doesn't...] H-He said.. He said it'd be too much for the stupid core but that's not--!

I don't know. [He buries his face in his hands, then -- not crying, no, nothing like that, but just rubbing his face in a mixture of annoyance and frustration and --something to distract himself.]

I don't know, Rose, and I -- dammit.

[It's only a moment longer before she slumps to the floor, from knees to her bum, one arm still defiantly stuck on the bed, fingers gripping tight to the sleeve of the no-longer-there Time Lord. This wasn't right. He wasn't supposed to just ... die. There was another him- a nextproof that he lived on, and yet... Yet he wasn't. He wasn't regenerating. He was just ... gone.

And for Rose... well, for Jack too, anyone could assume. It was too much. He couldn't leave them. He couldn't just die.]

[it takes her far longer to reach the flat after Rose's message than she'd have liked. they really should find a place where they're all together. it would certainly save her time running between her Doctors

and time isn't something they have right now]

Doctor? [she doesn't bother knocking, just rushing through the door the moment she gets there, a small satchel in hand with a handful of random items that might help the Doctor, or so she thinks. not that she can help him] Rose? I'm here. Where is he? Let me see!

[ and coming in not too far behind her is a familiar face. The... Doctor. Or rather, the Doctor that is still healthy, and plans on staying that way, even if something like this has struck him down.

He knows he has to survive, because he can't regenerate. he won't regenerate. For all he knows, the whole universe might implode if he allows this to happen.

Or else, he'll have one very upset Rose and TARDIS (and grudgingly... he admits that he really doesn't want him to die). ]

Now, I know we normally don't see eye-to-eye, but he... I'm not going to let anything happen him. I promise you that.

[ . . . ]

Where is he?

[She's still sitting there, listening to Jack's anger, hurt, tears rolling down her cheeks- she's not making a whole lot of noise. Not this time. There's... just nothing. If he's not regenerating- he's gone. How could he possibly come back from this?

She get up from the sudden voice at the door- voices, now that she thinks about it. The TARDIS and- him.]

In here- [She chokes out, refusing to budge from her spot, knuckles white from gripping, arm tiring from being bent up and over the edge of the mattress like it is.]

[Jack's up and pacing by now, though moving a bit slower than he would normally. It might help, he thinks, at least to get his mind off of things.]

We're in here. [He answers, and pokes his head out the doorway.] C'mon.

[she follows the voices, navigating her way through the flat until she sees Jack's head pop out the doorway. she makes an immediate beeline for him, brushing past with a steely look on her face and going immediately to the bed to look the Doctor over herself

it doesn't look good. not at all. she brushes a lock of hair from his forehead, but otherwise doesn't show much emotion. not outwardly, at least]

How long has it been?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Expiration Date

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject