Held In Time || Doctor Who

3 || A path to beginnings

They drag me into a lift then past corridors and corridors, an endless spiral of dull colours, professional colours that belong to straight-forward work places, organisations..

I run into the man by accident, eyes widening and face flushing in embarrassment.

He jerks slightly, mainly catching my body with the effort of his. I watch as amusement splays across Rose's face, and following through a sour attempt to hide it.

I resist the urge to run. Run as fast as I can, run as if the path will never stop. Run so swiftly and yet so slowly that death will catch up, eventually.

"Are you.. are you alright?" He says instead, eyes softening and shaking me from the bad thoughts. I think that's the third time someone has asked me that today. Funny that - nobody seemed to care for the past few weeks.

I bite the inside of my cheek as an answer and push away from the man, the man that some call The Doctor. I still don't get it - am I finally mad? So insane that I cannot tell what is real and what is just going on inside my head?

"How do you exist..?" I mutter, under my breath. It was a small thought, a remark, and I didn't intend anyone to hear. Aparentally my plan didn't go well because he eyes me, not harsh and skeptical, but true curiosity - as if I actually mean something.

He shoulders his trenchcoat off and drapes it over my gown, the white gown with black polka-dots; an asylum gown. The man makes sure it isn't visible, covering it with both sides of the coat so they overlap.
He moves away, seemingly done with his job and taking slow steps toward a turning point in the corridor, "okay. Okay, Rose. Stay here, with Michelle. Look after each other - I'll be back."

I turn to Rose, turn because I know what to expect from her. Awe, and something resembling love. I know this because, well, quite frankly, who doesn't? That's how it goes, in the show. She loves him.

Rose grins at me, and I know exactly what I'm going to hear, "never been a fan at taking orders. How 'bout you?"

I make an attempt not to shrink under her gaze and, nagging at me, there it is. The odd sensation at the back of my mind that I can't place. What is it? What have I forgotten...well, bad question. I've forgotten everything but my name, surgery and this show. Oh, I really am insane.

"I'll be here right by your side at this. We won't do much, just a small.. look 'round." She explains, as if it will solve all my questions. I try to appreciate the kindness, but fear of being taken back overwhelms my senses and leaves me numb.

"Yeah, yeah that's fine." I take a few steadying steps forward along with a deep breath.

I squeeze the coat as some source of comfort, nightmares of the prison still fresh and digging into my skull.

We walk past offices brimming with formally dressed people - office attire - working in a rhythmic pattern, tapping a beat onto their computers. One thing in common with all of them: they don't bother to stare. Too focused, too busy. Perfect for escapees.

I look for any sign of logo, anything to let me know where I am. Any hint or clue, anything to prove I'm still sane or alive. For all I know, I could've died from hunger or something and have been living a dream since.

There. That window, the one sheltering another wave of offices and small booths, a window with something on it. The infamous honeycomb logo and title; Torchwood. I let out a distressed gasp, the world spinning around me. Rose seems to notice as she spins on her heel at me, confusion highlighting her features, and shepherds me away from the open area.

She takes me to another corridor, much like where we were before. Wait, is it the same one? Too dizzy. Can't tell.
The weight of dubiety too heavy on my head, I sink my eyes back into the floor.