Lost In Time: A Doctor Who Fanfiction

Chapter 33 - Recovery

He leaned back in his chair and ran his hand through his hair. "Of course, you don't limit yourself to that, because not all my hair's turned gray yet. You're meant to hold the Vortex, so you need to be able to hold it, and right now you can only handle a small amount. So the energy will periodically change your physiology to make you capable of handling more, but the adjusting process is hard on your body. Hence the need to rest," he gave her a pointed glance.

She rolled her eyes fondly. "Yes, fine, I get it. I'm not leaving this bed until I'm old and gray. Like you, apparently. Carry on."

"I'm only gray because you're trying to age me before my time," he scoffed playfully, pointing a warning finger at her. "Now, the process mostly focuses on your physiology but it can cause some minor external changes as well."

"What do you mean?" she asked with a faint frown. "Am I gonna start glowing all the time now?" she glanced at her hands. "I could get a job as a living night light, I guess."

He raised an eyebrow. "Yes, that's exactly what's going to happen," he said dryly. "Unless, of course, you continue to neglect your soup," he said with a pointed glance, not reacting when she slurped loudly in protest. "No, not actually. It typically manifests itself in subtle ways - your hair might lighten slightly, or perhaps you'll gain a few golden flecks in your eyes. You're not going to start glowing in the dark or be able to fly. Sorry. At this point, you're still basically human with just a little bit of time vortex."

"So, like Ri- uh," Lyssa trailed off awkwardly, remembering exactly where she was in the Doctor's timeline - before Demon's Run - and thus he had no idea of what River was. "Never mind. Ignore me. I'm sick, see?" She hefted her now-empty bowl of soup in the air. "I've got chicken noodle soup. And a blanket."

"Right. Which is why, as a sick person, I'm sure you'll be happy to take your medicine," he told her brightly. "Especially when it will help you feel better!"

She sighed, contemplating her ability to fake a sudden coma. She came to the unfortunate conclusion that he'd likely figure it out before it was of any use to her and leaned back against her pillows with a huff.

He dug into his pants pocket and pulled out an orange pill container that made her grimace when she saw it. "I know, I know, it tastes like pickles, but it could be worse, and it is necessary,"" he reminded her as he pulled out his sonic screwdriver and scanned her, before gaining a relieved smile.

"And you're doing much better! There, you see? It's also beneficial," he told her as he slipped it back into his pocket. "In that sense the Siren may have actually helped," he admitted with a grimace, as if he didn't want to admit it. "Forced you to actually rest. I'd say you'll be back to causing trouble in a few days - as long as you rest properly. As little exertion as possible," he warned her.

She gave him a lazy salute, setting the tray back on the table. "No marathons, got it." He gave her a half smile as he handed her the little pill, and she sighed, having hoped he would have forgotten about it. She forced it down with a shudder, grimacing at the chalky taste it left on her tongue. "Why does medicine always taste so gross?" she muttered, reaching for her water in an attempt to wash out the taste.

He shrugged. "Because people wouldn't believe it was actually good for you if it tasted good. And possibly to encourage people to eat the healthy foods that help keep them from getting sick in the first place, because it certainly tastes better than medicine. Like water, for example," he glanced at the still half-full glass in her hand. "Which you should be drinking more of."

She sighed, dutifully draining her glass. "Speaking of water," she said as she set it back on the tray, "how's Rory doing? I know I've read that you can seem totally fine but actually have water in your lungs that can make you sick later."