Chapter 82 - Mummy Issues

3.1K 193 174
                                    


Jack recoiled, staring at her in confused shock. "What? Why are you saying that?"

Lyssa blinked back at him dazedly. She didn't know what his problem was. She just... needed to find her mummy. She reached out a hand, hoping he could help her, and frowning in disappointment when he recoiled, though a distant part of her was shouting to stay away from him and everyone else. It was quickly buried under her need to find her mummy, and she stepped closer to Jack, matching his pace as he retreated.

"Doctor, they're getting closer," Rose whispered nervously, trying to flatten herself against the wall as the gas mask victims staggered closer.  "What do we do?"

The Doctor cast a heavy glance at Lyssa. "Don't let her touch you, no matter what she says. Right now, she's not Lyssa and she'll only infect you if she does."

"Okay, great. Got it," Jack said sarcastically. "What about the rest of them?"

The Doctor glanced at the advancing group then crossed his arms, glowering at them. "Go to your room," he ordered them sternly, as if speaking to a disobedient child. The group hesitated. Lyssa paused, recognizing that tone. "Go to your room!" he repeated, sounding even crosser. "I mean it! I am very, very angry with you," he scowled.

Lyssa tilted her head, feeling an old, long-buried shame wash over her.

The sharp figure of her mother stood above her, the smell of cheap booze washing over her as her mother shouted at her. "I can't believe you did that to me! I was in the middle of having fun with my friends, and you made me leave one of the only times I get to socialize to take you home," she said in disgust.

Lyssa stared up at her, her lower lip trembling. "But it was dark, and I'm scared of the dark!"  she whimpered, clutching her stuffed bear close to her chest.

Her mother's lip curled. "You're seven years old, Alyssa. You shouldn't be scared of the dark anymore." She sighed, rubbing her forehead and pushing her bleach blonde curls out of  her face. "I thought we discussed this. Children should be seen and not heard. Instead, you embarrassed me in front of everyone. Now go to your room," she ordered her daughter wearily, turning away with a sigh and rubbing her temples in a sure sign of an approaching headache. "And don't let me see you again tonight unless its an emergency. An actual emergency this time, not one of your stupid nightmares again."

"But -"

"Just go to your room!"

"I am very, very cross!" the Doctor continued sternly. "Now go... to... your... ROOM!" He punctuated the order with a sharp gesture, thrusting his hand up in the air and pointing in no particular direction.

Lyssa dropped her head in shame, turning and shuffling away sadly.

"I'm really glad that worked. Those would have been terrible last words," he muttered behind her, letting out a breathy laugh as she started to leave the room.

"Doctor, where's Lyssa going?"

"I sent them all to their room."

"Okay. And?"

"And she's been infected, even if it hasn't fully developed yet. She's goin' to her room."

"But... Lyssa doesn't have a room here."

"Accordin' to Jack, she's slept in a couple places while she was here - the hospital, the hotel, and, judging by the look of her, possibly the street. She'll either take us to one of them, or... the virus'll default and take us to the child's room instead."

Lost In Time: A Doctor Who FanfictionWhere stories live. Discover now