Back To You

Chapter twelve: Flatline

The Doctor's point of view

I'd fallen asleep, and for once, I'd been happy. There were no nightmares, no dreams either, just an overall pleasantness. Little did I know my nightmares had escaped into the real world.

A harsh beeping sound filled my skull, pulling me from my sleep. Perhaps it was an alarm, I had thought. But it sounded too nervous, too urgent and important to ignore. I opened my eyes, blinking rapidly to try and adjust to the harsh sunlight streaming in through the window next to me. I smiled a little when I felt Rose's hand still in mine.

That's when I should've realized something was wrong. Her hand was cold - almost too cold - and it felt limp in mine.

Groggily, I sat up, my hearts racing a little faster in my chest. I scanned the room for the source of the annoying, high-pitched, constant beeping. My eyes falling on the heart monitor, I felt panic flood my veins. I stood up far too quickly, the edge of my vision going black. Trying to ignore it, I raced to the other side of the bed, and stared at the screen. Across it ran a singular green line. A flat line.

I stumbled back in shock, eyes blurry and choking on the little air I was gasping in. As I stared at her, willing this not to be real, I noticed how sick she looked. Her arms were like paper, pale and white, her veins the harsh blue ink dripping down the page. Wires and needles protruded from her, twisting her natural form into some kind of machine dependant shell of her former self.

I screamed.

I don't know why; whether it was panic or disgust I'm still unsure. Doctors and nurses and white coats galore rushed into the room, crowding around her, fiddling with IV's and checking her over with stethoscopes. Jackie and Pete followed the Torchwood medics in, standing back like me, crying and worrying about what had happened to their daughter. They mumbled on about it not making any sense, how she'd been fine the day before, and how her results showed no sign of this. Jackie wept into Pete's chest.

I stormed out of the room, unable to bear the constant noise of clattering machinery and heartbroken parents. All I wanted was silence so I could pretend that nothing mattered. Heading into the hallway, I tried the handle of the door opposite, testing if it was locked. The door clicked open. I had expected it to be a spare bedroom. Instead, there were metal tables and microscopes, small vials of blood with different dates on them and sheets of paper scattered around the room. Trudging over the graphs and comparisons and percentages, I collapsed in the corner of the room furthest from the door. I curled up as small as I could, cowering away from the distant voices.

It was horrific. The feeling of anger, of agony, of drained hope and helplessness. Knowing there was nothing you could do now to save her, and you realise all the chances you had to make things better. All the possibilities and maybes enough to drive any man insane. Perhaps Rose would've been safer if I'd never met her. If I hadn't have slipped my hand into hers and told her to run. She'd be alive, working in one shop or another, eating chips with her mum and laughing with Mickey. She'd still be the same hot-headed girl, always with a snappy remark on the tip of her tongue, a smile always tugging at the corner of her lips. Her hazel eyes would still be blinking, taking in the world around her. Her blonde hair would be flying behind her, tangling in the wind. She wouldn't be laying in silence, with no words to ever leave her lips again. Her deep brown eyes wouldn't be sealed shut, stitched in place by death himself. Her light hair wouldn't be laying neatly braided across her pillow. I had taken her to so many planets, shown her so many species, yet the one adventure she should've had, she was deprived of. She should've had the chance to live, to fall in love, get married and grow old.

The pounding of my hearts in my chest was quick, like our footsteps as we ran from some alien foe, but now she was gone and I had no clue why they were still beating. I rocked backwards and forwards. My breaths were fast and uneven, rattling around inside my lungs, not really causing any benefit. I rasped and screeched in the yellow light of the room, my body twitching and shaking. I pulled and tugged and tore at my hair, trying to grip onto some sense of reality, to wake from this hellish dream.