Broken: A Time Lord's Story (Doctor Who Novel)

Chapter 2 A Child Lost

"Oi...‭ ‬Lights off,‭" ‬the Doctor muttered to his ship.‭ "‬Now ‬--‭ ‬, please," ‬he said with a groan.‭ ‬ He held his head, rolled onto his side, all while trying hard not to heave.‭ Somehow, a jackhammer had taken up residence, pounding ‬right behind his right eye.‭ ‬This must be what it felt like to be totally pissed.‭ ‬He'd never been ‬totally pissed.‭ Trouble was, he couldn't remember drinking. 

‬The intense white light flooding the room made the pain in his head ten times worse. As soon as he could think he'd give Sexy a proper bollocking for refusing to turn the lights off. Several seconds ticked past before the reality of his situation settled in. Sexy didn't answer because this wasn't Sexy. The floor he laid on was cold, hard concrete, not the grating of the console room. This place was a cell, he was someone's prisoner ‬--‭ ‬again. 

"Blimey, don't these people have to pay a light bill," he muttered when he cracked open one eye.

Nausea burned a path up into the middle of his chest, threatening to erupt like a geyser. He swallowed and then gulped, forcing the contents of his stomach back down. ‭The pain forced him to turn again, sending stabs of fire shooting through his temples. He needed something to block the light. Once he blocked the light, the pain would abate. He hoped. He patted his pockets and then his neck. They had at least left him his silk bow tie. Granted, the strip of material didn't make the best sunglasses, but doing nothing meant burnt retinas. He didn't fancy going blind, so he pulled it free.‭ With eyes clenched tight, he wrapped the tie around his head‭, ‬leaving just enough uncovered to see and then tested his vision.

He peeked through the slits and blew a breath. He could see without the blinding light stabbing the back of his eyeballs.  A windowless room came into focus. He gritted his teeth and forced himself upright. Next came standing. The cold cement wall provided support for trembling legs while he tried not to let dizziness and nausea overwhelm his senses. When he could finally trust them to support his weight, he began inching his way around a cell that smelt of fear and sweat.  What he was doing in this place was the primary question. ‬Whom he'd ticked off came in at an extremely close second.

Lately, careless, ‭thick and old took turns vying for his middle name. What, the bloody hell, was wrong lately? Why didn't he pay closer attention to his surroundings? Not since the Vespiform slipped cyanide in his drink had someone managed to slip something into his food. At least this wasn't poison, just something to knock him on his Time Lord arse.‭ ‬He leaned against the wall, wishing for a pitcher of water to wash the taste out of his mouth and a banana to replenish his body.

Once his head cleared, he assessed the situation.‭ ‬Both coats were gone.‭ ‬That meant they had his screwdriver, psychic paper, a few assorted Jammy Dodgers ... and the TARDIS key.‭ As bad as that was, they'd also snagged his new boots. That was beyond rubbish.‭ ‬He liked those boots.‭ They'd just started getting comfortable, especially around his toes.‬ They'd replaced his favourite pair lost to acid on the ganger's island.‭ ‬Now that was a trip.‭ ‬Programmable flesh turned monster killed by the programmable flesh.‭

He was glad now that he'd cut ‬their link and left her invisible.‭ ‬He could survive the annoying inconvenience of this stupid cell for a couple of days until her emergency programme kicked in ‬and returned to Amy. Piece of cake, except that he was downright cold; shivering type cold.‭ ‬This place was more like a meat locker than a jail cell.

He edged around the room, hunting for a weak spot, knowing it was a wasted effort. Even if he had his screwdriver, it would take an eternity to resonate the concrete enough to make a hole. Once around the room, he leaned back ‬resting one foot against the wall, and tried to look nonchalant but felt old and thick. Their presence felt ‬like a prickly itch on the back of his neck.‭ They were watching him, no doubt feeling quite brilliant at their success. They had good reason to feel proud; he'd ignored all his instincts and walked into a trap‭. ‬When would he ever learn‭?