Final Reflections (fan fiction)

WhiteCrow · 29th Nov 2008, 10:01 AM

B-bleep … b-bleep … b-bleep …

The hospital room was filled with machines all hissing, pumping, bleeping. Their automation seemed to churn on full of noise and purpose. They were a marvel of modern medicine, but their true purpose was to keep the frail body linked to them all alive. But alas, no machine can provide life indefinitely …

'Professor … professor … how does that feel now? I’ve upped the dose as far as I’m can, and one of the receptionists have called your husband – he’s on his way.' The young medic explained to her patient, who could just manage a feeble nod in return. The medic replaced her patient’s chart, and let out a sigh. It was sad – it wouldn’t be long now, but she had other patients on her round shes needed to see.

The patient felt the morphine kick in, but the pain was still there. The world seemed to be coming and going in more lucid moments that seemed to fade imperceptibly into dream. The door creaked as a new figure entered the room. Or was this another dream?

'Oh my it is you!' the male voice gasped, the voice was slightly squeaky like an overexcited puppy.

The patient sat up with effort, and spoke rather primly, 'Yes it is me, but if you don’t mind, I am dying here. I know you must be awfully excited to find me here, but as you can imagine I’d really appreciate a bit of privacy.'

'I’m sorry, I seem to have caught you at a bad time. I’ll leave you alone then.' The door creaked to open, as the stranger prepared to leave.

'No … please don’t go. I shouldn’t have snapped like that. I suppose you have something you’d like signing?' She pointed to the tubes coming out of one of her arms. 'Just don’t be surprised if it’s not my best calligraphy.'

'No it was nothing like that.' The man replied.

'Come now, last signature of a dying author – would be worth something on eBay you know. Would you just stay a little while? My husband Ian should be here soon. It’s funny, I’ve been here on and off for the best part of a year, and he’s never failed to visit, every day without fail. But he’ll never forgive himself if he’s late today.' She paused for a moment thinking. 'Somehow it’s easier to wait with someone, than to wait on your own. With so little time left you can’t help wondering about the maybes … Now let me take a look at you.'

The elderly patient fumbled for her pair of glasses on the nearby table, knocking a glass of water over which the stranger swiftly rescued. 'Ah … there you are!' She looked at the young thin man, in his stripped pyjamas and dressing gown. 'So … what have they got you in for?'

The young man puffed out his cheeks and rolled up his eyes, 'Erm … er … ingrowing toenail!'.

'Well it’s good to see an interest in history won’t be dying out with me. Which of my research most interested you? The Aztecs probably? And of course you’re wondering how it is I learned so much about them don’t you.' She leaned forward and continued in a conspiratorial whisper. 'I was THERE. I know what you’re thinking, dotty old bird has been at the morphine. But it’s true!'

She continued. 'You know I studied history with a passion at University and I used to think ‘I wish I could go back and see what it was really like’. Well young man you should be careful what you wish for. You know I used to be a teacher before I became a history professor?'

'I might have erm … read that somewhere', the stranger confessed.

'Well one night me and my husband Ian met a man, a most extra-ordinary man, and he took us away in his time machine. How crazy does that sound?' She laughed to herself. She was pleased to see the stranger seemed to take what she said seriously. 'Oh the things we saw, aliens and the far future. But most of all we got to see the past. No, not just see, but experience it, live it, breath it, even smell it.' She looked off to the distance and smiled. 'The funny thing is all I could think about at the time was going home.'

'And did you .. get home?', asked the stranger curiously.

'Well … give or take a year. Course we’d both lost our jobs by then.' The patient shrugged. 'You must have heard speculation from Ian’s biography about his ‘missing years’, a very Agatha Christie mystery his publisher called it.

'But somehow those missing years we spent travelling brought us closer. I mean before we’d gone travelling we’d only just started to see each other. But when you’ve lived fighting Daleks, and ruled as an Aztec goddess, you want someone nearby who reminds you every day that you’ve not gone mad when you return to a world of income tax, unemployment and mortgages.

'I took up archaeology, and Ian started writing Science Fiction novels. You know he was at a convention last month and they asked him where he gets his ideas from again. But he always refuses to answer that question, it drives his fans mad. But Ian says a little bit of mystery did no-one any harm. Personally I sometimes wonder if he enjoys teasing his fans like that. You know I suppose it was the allure of mystery which made us fall in with the Doctor in the first place!'

She took a sharp breath, and let out a groan, and the pain brought her back to reality.

'It’s getting close now … I’m feeling so weak … so very tired. I guess one more adventure left. Thank you.'

A weak hand reached out, and the stranger grabbed it with both of his. 'I didn’t do anything.' He muttered in reply.

'Thank you, for just listening. If you see him, tell Ian …'

B-bleep … b-b-bleep … bleeeeeeeeeeeeeep. The electronic metronome sounded out the last moment of life. But in the hospital, no-one came.

'Oh my dear Barbera. I’m so sorry.' The Doctor turned off the machine, and closed her eyes. Outside the rain was falling upwards, and something was about to happen …

WhiteCrow · 29th Nov 2008, 10:13 AM

I wrote this last year for the Brief Encounters section. It's kind of a personal story for me.

Much like how Jacqueline Hill died from cancer, I lost my own Godmother in 2006, two years this week. She died in hospital, on her own with her husband unable to get there in time that morning to see her one last time. It was her husbands birthday, and he was due to retire the next week, and he was hoping to be able to spend more time with her. It just wasn't to be.

Coming up to the 1st anniversary of her death, I guess I needed an outlet. So I decided to kill off Barbera Wright-Chesterton (she marries him in my version, because who else can she talk to about those adventures) and to advance her story a few years, and use her kind of bedside confession as a way for the character to look back on her time with the Doctor, little realising it's the Doctor she's talking to.

With the 45th Anniversary last week, and the anniverasy of our own loss next week, it seemed the right time to put this out.

In a kind of spooky coincidence, I finished this story last week, and logged onto Facebook. One of my updates read "Jacquie Hill says thank you!". Sje's a friend from school with the same name, but it was a bit of a Twilight Zone moment.