The Always More (Doctor Who Fanfiction)

Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten
Irene

The Doctor sees the fear in my eyes at once, and (After checking behind him, of course) moves to a kneel.

"Hey. Tell me what's wrong."

"I don't remember," I squeak. I see we are in a new part of the ship. "I don't... what did I do? Why do you want to see my neck?" I giggle nervously a little as I tease, "Are you a vampire?"

"You... really, you can't remember?"

"Do I look like I remember?" I snap. His panic fades all of a sudden, but I don't understand why.

"Irene," he says softly. "What kind of brain tumor do you have?"

I take a step away from him. I didn't need to think about cancer right now. I had just managed to push it to the back of my mind. Why did he have to bring it up again?

I've recited it so many times in my head that I feel like I'm reading from an invisible script when grind out, "I have a rare form of cancer stemming from a Glioblastomic brain tumor, or GBT for short."

"I thought as much. And what lobe of your brain is the tumor in?"

"The temperish one," I manage.

"You mean Temporal," is all he says as he turns me around with my back to him, and places his hands on my shoulders.

"Why on Earth does it matter to you?" I bark. He doesn't reply to the question, but begins only to talk in my ear, directing my gaze with a gesture of his hand.

"Look at that hallway. Imagine walking down that. That glass room is a waste tank, though strictly speaking, the glass may be a bit softer. Remember the Seffmarine we found on the ground? Good. Imagine two of the same species as him standing and looking at you. Think of a door keeping you and I apart there."

The more he speaks and points, and the more I look, I start to be sure that I know what he's talking about. I'm not sure whether or not it was possible that his words triggered it, or if the memory loss was only temporary in the first place, but I start to remember a vague, gray memory. By the time he finishes speaking, I remember almost perfectly what happened, with only a few moments where it's a little squiggly, like a scratch on a record. Yes, I know, shocker for all of you: I'm a teenager from the twenty first century, and I actually know what a record is. I get my fair share of looks for it.

"I remember," I say.

"Good. Memory loss can occur with disturbances in the Parietal lobe. And..."

He doesn't finish, and I pull my arms in to my sides uncomfortably. "And, a brain tumor is one hell of a disturbance. I figured as much." I blink quickly when I feel the arrival of tears in my eyes, and The Doctor nods, and takes my hand in his.

"Yeah. Let's go, before the rest of the repair team finds us."

So we continued down the hall in silence. The Doctor explains how all of this feels too deliberate. He tells me that the stabbing couldn't have been an accident, that there had to be a reason the ship crashed where it did, and ultimately that he thinks it was crashed on purpose.

"So, like a sabotage?" I ask, looking up at him as we walk. "Or something?"

"Sabotage," he agrees, going forward to open a door. "Yes."