the healer, part 1

The Healer1

Part 1, new2

“Izzy, Izzy, come on, wake up!” her brother’s voice penetrated the darkness, pulling her back to consciousness. She struggled to remember what had happened, there had been a dalek looming over them, she had pushed her brother behind her and then she had heard that fatal word, “exterminate.” The next part was hazy, she knew that her brother had destroyed the dalek and he must have brought her back to the tardis, because she could feel the soft bed beneath her, but all that had registered in her mind was the pain, so much pain. She had screamed until her throat was raw, until no more sound came out and she was forced to suffer in silence. Then it was over and she was given a moment of blessed relief, before everything went black. 3

“Izzy, can you hear me?” her brother’s fearful question dragged her back to the present and she opened her eyes. Her brother was leaning over her, his face full of concern, but when he saw she was awake, he let out a sigh of relief and smiled. “You do know who I am, right?” he asked.4

“Course I do,” Izzy retorted, noticing as she did so, the change in her voice.5

“Just checking, you can sometimes lose your memory when you regenerate, you know,” he said defensively.6

“I am quite aware of the effects of regeneration, thanks,” Izzy snapped, then she raised her hands to massage her temples. “Sorry,” she muttered, “headache.”7

“That’s ok,” he said. “Now, you should get changed. I found you some clothes.” He indicated a pile of garments folded on the chair at the end of the bed. Izzy glanced down at her tattered clothes and nodded in agreement.8

“Right then, I’ll be in the control room when you’re done,” he told her. “don’t be long.”9

Once her brother was gone, Izzy sat up. The movement made her head throb and spin, so she stayed still for a moment, waiting for the dizziness and pain to subside. Then she slid off the bed, stood up and divested herself of her clothes, before crossing the room on wobbling, new legs, to where a full length mirror hung on the wall. She stared at her reflection. The eyes that looked back at her had once been a warm, chocolate brown, but were now a piercing, sapphire blue. Where once she had been small and slight, she was now tall, with long shapely limbs and skin of alabaster white. Her hair, that used to be short and the colour of mahogany, was now a mass of raven curls that framed an angular face, and tumbled over bare shoulders. Slowly she turned from the mirror and picked up the first garment, a medieval gown, from the pile on the chair, shook it out, stepped into it and fumbled with the lacings. Then she combed and braided her hair, pinned a white wimple in place on top, threw a thick, woolen cloak around her shoulders, and leaving her room, made her way to where her brother, the doctor, was fiddling with the tardis controls. He looked up from his work and gave her a smile, which, if she hadn’t been intent on not tripping over the hem of her dress, she would have noticed was strained. “Ready to go?” he asked, his voice falsely cheerful. 10

“Go where?” Izzy enquired. The doctor grinned at her,11

Saying, “11th century England, you’re going to love it!” He didn’t wait for an answer, he leapt to his feet, snatched a bag from the floor, grabbed Izzy’s hand and hurried her out of the tardis.12