Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Survivor’s guilt.

Oh, Graham’s all too familiar with the phrase and what it is. He just thought that he’d never have to experience it again, not after surviving cancer. Not after finding someone that filled that empty void in his heart, someone whom he spent his entire life looking for, only to lose so suddenly.

He thinks could have dealt with an illness, possibly, he’s not sure really, but he could’ve prepared and planned for it at least but Grace’s death, hers was nothing like that, too instant, too shocking, and completely and utterly pointless in the grand scheme of things. Sitting up and running a hand over his eyes his thoughts spiral again and he settles back onto the one that causes the guilt to grow.

That he should’ve been the one to go, to die cause she had so much more to give to the world than he ever could. What could a retired bus driver give to the world when compared to a nurse who saved lives? Hardly anything really, and if he went, then Ryan, well he would still have his nan wouldn’t he? Someone he loved truly instead of someone he tolerated. And there’s her voice, her ghost, whispering to him again, telling him that Ryan does care about him and that he just has to give him time. Time , such a funny word.

With a sigh he swings his legs from the bed again, losing count of how many times he’s already been down this lonely road tonight and he rests his arms on his knees, exhaustion weighing heavily on him, both physically and mentally. Being in this house only makes it harder because everything in this house is her, more so than him. She spent decades here, years making the very space her own and he’s only had a few and it was hardly ever enough. He takes a look around the room they shared together and… feels like an invader in his own home without her there by his side.

He needs to leave, needs to get out and escape from the pain, take a walk. Just somewhere that isn’t here… and there’s only one place that he knows that helps him. The TARDIS. At least with the Doc’s ship it has no memories of Grace, it’s completely alien and new and there’s nothing to miss like an ache within it. Nothing to remind him of the guilt of surviving.

With his decision made he stands, kicking on a pair of trousers before pulling on a loose shirt and quietly making his way downstairs, carefully avoiding the creaky step that she never failed to miss. The last thing he needs to do now is awaken Ryan and worry him, make him ask why he’s leaving the house at this time of night. So he silently gets his shoes on and gives one last forlorn look upstairs before opening the door to the cold, winter night of Sheffield and stepping outside.

It’s not a long trip to the TARDIS, she still parks in the place outside of Yaz’ flat but it’s long enough for the cold to embed itself within him. He brings his hands upwards and blows on them, regretting that he never thought to bring his gloves or scarf, or a warmer jacket. he guesses that it doesn’t really matter in the long run, he won’t be out for long and the cold is almost welcomed, something else to feel and take his mind from the pain.

Taking a glance around he realises he’s the only one around, a passing car here and there. There’s a faint siren in the distance and he briefly wonders if it’s Yaz, she’s on a night shift tonight if he remembers correctly. Someone else from their little team, or Fam, as ridiculous as it sounds to him is up and awake. He could drop her a text, wish her a safe shift but then she’ll only wonder and worry about him and that’s not her job to do. It’s never their job to worry about him.

The familiar blue outline of the box comes into view and before long he’s stood outside it, ready to knock and looking on in surprise when the door opens, beckoning him in like she and the fantastic ship already knew he was coming. With a heavy sigh, he enters and feels the weight slightly lifting from his soul, not by much but the empty feeling is kept at bay for the time being.

“You are aware of what time it is Graham? Humans are hardly a nocturnal species.” asked the Doctor looking up, her eyes watching him and he feels the pressure of being scrutinised. She lets out a long drawn out breath after a second of staring. “How long Graham?”

“How long for what Doc?” he countered but he can gather what she’s asking. It doesn’t mean he can’t be at least a little aloof with her. Pretend he doesn’t know what she means and try and prove that he’s not as easy to read as she thinks he is.

She sighs again and stands straighter, arms folding across her chest. “How long haven’t you been sleeping?”

He walks further in and shrugs, not trusting himself to speak just yet.

“How long haven’t you been sleeping Graham?” asked the Doctor again in a caring but firm tone, leaving no room for his nonsense.

He places his hands at his sides and looks up and into her eyes. “Since it happened Doc.” he disclosed with another shrug, if she wants to know then he’ll tell her. “I get nights where I fall asleep straight away and that’s fine but every time and without fail I’ll wake up and for a moment... for the briefest moment.” He talks with a gesture of his slowly warming hands, the painful tingle bringing back truly unwanted memories from his treatment days but he proceeds onwards, ignoring the anxious growth. “I’ll forget that she’ll never be there again and I’ll reach over, hoping to feel her warmth but I only ever find coldness.”

He closes his eyes and stands still, the only sound around the pair of them is the gentle hum of the ship herself. “Then other times, like tonight, I can’t sleep. I can’t let her go and it’s hell in that house Doc, everything is her, everything is a reminder and I can’t handle the guilt at living when she died.”

“Guilt? Whatever for Graham?”

He opens his eyes and looks deeply into the Doctors. “If I went up that crane Doc, if I wasn’t so scared, then it would’ve been me.” He paces back and forth, anxiety and guilt building with each step now. “It should’ve been me, Doctor, I should’ve been the one to die cause I’ve already had my second chance and she had so much more to give to the world than I ever would or could, she could’ve saved so many more people, just anything, anything so she didn’t have to die.”

The Doctor marches towards Graham, her face a mixture of intense emotions. “Graham, it wasn’t your fault and using ‘Ifs’ they don’t help you, trust me I know and for the second part, no one should’ve died Graham, but people do and it’s heartbreaking but that doesn’t mean that you should’ve been the one to die.” She places an arm out and stops his pacing, her gesture forcing him to look at her again. “Why didn’t you say anything?” asked the Doctor in a gentle tone.

He sighs again and gestures wildly. “I honestly didn’t want anyone to worry about it, it was my issue to deal with, always was my issue to deal with.” He answered with a roll of his shoulders. “I don’t even know why I came here tonight, I just needed to get out of the house and decided that coming ‘ere was probably better than walking around Sheffield at this ungodly hour.”

The Doctor takes a moment to respond. “You should have said something sooner, Graham.”

“Like what exactly Doc?” he inquired before raising his hands and speaking through quotation marks. “‘ Hey Doc, I know we’re currently getting chased by things that want to kill us, but I thought you might like to know that I can’t sleep.’ How was I spose to bring it up? Never had the chance.”

He runs a hand down his face at his snappy reply; she doesn’t deserve his attitude, so he looks to the floor. “I was scared you wouldn’t let me travel with you; I thought that if you knew about this, you would say I couldn’t come, that I was a liability and… and I didn’t want to be stuck in that house, stuck in her memories.” He sags against the nearby column and lowers himself to the floor. “I’m at a loss Doc, I never was good with this, and she was always there to help me through the worst of it even if I didn’t want the help.”

“The worst of what Graham?”

“Survivor's Guilt.” He answered as he trains his eyes onto a spot in the grated floor. “That’s what they called it, usually happens to people when they go through something traumatic. I always felt like an imposter because it wasn’t like I survived an accident or any other horrendous thing, but I still had it from the cancer when so many people died. People who hardly had their lives, people who achieved nothing cause they died at the non-age of nineteen.” he rambled in one big motion, forgetting who he is talking to for the time being. Just lost in the pain of remembering every face he saw for the last time. “They made me speak to someone about it but I stopped going cause I didn't want to talk about it, I just wanted to forget about it.”

There’s movement and then he feels another body pressed next to his. He raises his head to look at the Doctor and her eyes are focused upon him now. “Graham O’Brien, your mental health is important. You can’t just ignore it, believe me, I understand and know.” She reaches out and squeezes his hand. “You should’ve said something, I wouldn’t have kicked you from the TARDIS for something that is so inherently human.”

He leans his head against the crystalline column and glances at her. “How do you cope Doc? Cause when you say things like that, like you know. I believe you, cause you can tell how honest someone is being by the tone, so how do you cope?”

He watches as the Doctor takes in a breath and looks away, her hand still held in his. “You learn to live with it, I suppose, it gets better but it’s there, always there.” She turns back to him. “I’m hardly the correct person to be asking about coping with loss Graham.”

He doesn’t doubt her for one second, her eyes look far too old for her young face. “You know I wasn’t always like this Doc.”

“How do you mean?”

He looks away and stares into the heart of the TARDIS central column. “I was fine for the majority of my life. A happy go lucky sorta guy. I never settled down, but I was reasonably happy with my lot in life.” He revealed with a slight pause in between as he takes in a deep breath. “I was originally from Essex, had a simple family life. No siblings, mum and dad and it was just so normal . We never went abroad, we went to English beaches, one time we went to a Welsh one but my dad hated it so we never went again, and that was that but when I left I moved around. I’ve lived in Blackpool, London, Sheffield, just to name a few but I’ve lived all over the country really.”

“When you say you were ‘happy with your lot in life’, what do you mean by that?”

“I was content with what I had Doc, I’ve been with people, none of them like Grace mind you, she was something else, but they were there, it never worked out for different reasons.” He shrugs and waves his free hand. “I moved on or moved away.” He smiles quickly, remembering a detail. “My one constant for years was a miserable bastard of a cat who hated everything and everyone ‘cept me…” His smile falters. “...but he died and I never got another.”

“What happened then?” asked the Doctor.

He dangles his free hand between his knees, the other occupied with holding the Doctors. “I finally moved to Sheffield again, became a bus driver and it was pretty good for a while.” He pauses. “Then I got cancer and when you’re looking death in the face Doc. When you have to deal with the after-effects of chemo.” He looks away from her and chews the inside of his mouth. “Look, I didn’t have anyone, mum and dad, dead, no siblings and part of me just felt like giving up, until I met someone who convinced me not to.”

“Grace?”

He shakes his head and a sad smile overcomes his face. “Nah, she came a bit after,” he answered, looking back down at the floor again. “No, he was a lad called Liam. Only nineteen, going through treatment like me, poor sod, had leukaemia.” He furrows his brow. “We spoke a lot because our treatments lined up. It was usually about football, a few dark jokes here and there but when you’re both dying it’s hard not to joke about stuff, but whatever we laughed about, it made a horrible day bearable.”

He swallows down the lump in his throat and he feels his voice waver. “But I was getting better and he was getting worse.” He pauses again, thoughts spinning. “There were times I just wished it was the other way round, even said it to him once. ‘ Liam mate, if I could swap I would, I’ve had my life and you deserve yours ‘ but he shut me up pretty quickly after that. Told me to stop being a ‘ stupid dickhead ’, mind you, those were his words, not mine.” smiled Graham.

“What happened to him?”

“He died.” He replied, in a matter of fact tone. “And I grieved for him and now Grace is dead and I don’t have her to pull me through this again, this feeling of guilt and dread.” He chokes back a sob. “If I didn't have Ryan, you, or Yaz even, then I don’t know if I would’ve stayed here, too many memories, too much pain.”

She widens her eyes and grips his hand tighter. “Graham, you’re not saying what I think you’re saying are you?”

He looks back at her and sees the scared look in her eyes. “Oh god, no Doc, no, never that. What I mean is, I would’ve moved away or would've run away from my problems again. Considering my track record.” He feels her release a deep breath and the panic leaves her eyes but he feels the guilt eat away at him again. “I should’ve been clearer Doc, I’m sorry for worrying you like that.”

They sit in silence and he feels her hand squeeze his again. “How did you really meet Grace? I know she was your chemo nurse but how did you end up marrying her?”

“To tell you that Doc, I’ll have to start from the beginning and it’s a long story.”

“We have time Graham.” She smiles. “We’re in a time machine, wait here…” He watches as she jumps up and heads to the console, pulling and pressing levers and buttons. There’s a rumble and he feels the ship take off in flight.

“Where are we going, Doc?”

“Time Vortex.” replied the Doctor. “I think it’s about time we had a talk Graham, about a lot of stuff actually, we’re similar in more ways than one, and I should’ve spoken to you before, should’ve realised that something was up.”

He shakes his head and stands up, ignoring the instant protest from his legs. “Nah Doc, I’m good at hiding it, for the most part.” He reassured her. “It drove Grace up the wall when I wouldn’t talk back in the early days.”

The Doctor turns back to him. “Do you feel up for telling me the story?” she inquired again. “If you want to, that is.”

He considers her request for a moment and looks back at her. “Here?”

She shakes her head and comes forward and reaches for his hand. “I’m going to take you somewhere, deep within the TARDIS.” He gives her a quizzical look. “Somewhere I haven’t been for a while and probably should visit more often.”

“I’ll tell you the first part, the first time I spoke to Grace properly on the way then,” said Graham while accepting her hand and heading off with her. “I’ll warn you, it’s not happy and…” He sighs. “I’ll just start, it was back when Liam died, well just after that…”

It’s raining. The gentle pitter-patter against the drab hospital window a distraction from the beeping of the machine, hooked up to him to save his life. Graham watches the droplets land and rush downwards on the window, collecting slower ones along the way. It would’ve been about this time that Liam would throw something at him to pull his attention back and away from his dark thoughts, demanding that he play one of his games or something with him. Of course, he sucked at them but it was a decent enough distraction.

And he misses it.

Turning from the window now, he faces the chair that his friend used to occupy. It should’ve been him who went, not Liam. The lad had his entire life ahead of him, whereas he’s had his. Sorta. Early fifties is hardly an age to die nowadays but it’s better than nineteen. At least he saw his twenties.

Taking his eyes from the always empty chair now, he looks down at the portacath within his chest and his thoughts drift to back to the constant question swimming through his mind. Is this really worth it? Because what does he have? A dingy flat near what used to be his favourite café before the treatment that’s meant to be saving his life made it impossible for him to walk past it without retching. There’s no one waiting for him at home, his friends have their own lives and he hardly sees them now, his choice not theirs. He sighs and realises that this is another time where Liam would crack a joke and bring a smile to his face but Liams dead and well, he still exists in a perpetual state of flux.

And he hates it.

There’s movement and a shadow next to him. “Right Graham, I think that’s you done for today.” said the voice of his newest chemo nurse. He doesn’t look at her or speak as she disconnects him from the machine, not the other way round, cause he suspects the machine probably has more life in it than he does at the moment.

The nurse is chatting away again and he can’t help but listen. The other one before her didn’t get close to him, he tried to speak to them but gave up in the end, cause they hardly spoke back. He can’t fault them cause he guesses that if he had to work with people dying all the time he too would be less inclined to talk to them, less chance to get attached to.

And that brings him back to the question in hand now. He's made no effort to speak, to show any interest in her and yet, she’s always talking, or singing. Just anything to seem a little human and less like the robotic one from before. It boggles his mind how she can be upbeat when she’s talking to him.

Her hands are warm and gentle against his cold flesh and he looks up at her for the first time in a while, his head cocking to the side.

“Why do you bother?”

He sees the sudden shock on her face, quickly replaced by the warm caring look again as she looks down at him. “What do you mean?”

“Talking to me, like I’m not dying.” He looks away from her and his eyes land on the vacated chair again. “How do you cope with seeing people who had their whole lives ahead of them just die in pain. Cause that’s what this is. It’s pain, shame, and a fucking undignified way to go, losing control of bodily functions and wasting away as your hair falls out.”

She sighs from above him and frowns. “Graham O’Brien.” He drags his eyes from the chair and back up to her again, unaware that he’ll soon come to love the way she says his name. “I do this because I want to because you all deserve a little care and kindness when you can’t afford it to yourselves.”

“But I never asked for you to do it, hell I never even asked for your name, so why bother with me?”

He watches as a smile lights up her face. “You can still ask for it now Graham and I’ve told you the reason why.”

For the first time in months, a small smile touches his gaunt face. “I guess I can ask, can’t I?” He’s not sure why he’s even entertaining the idea of talking to her, maybe he’s lonely or desperate. So starved of conversation that he’ll take it with a woman who’s only doing her job. “All right then, what is it, what’s your name?”

“Grace.”

He laughs, the sound completely alien to him nowadays. “Of fucking course, it would be something like that.”

“What’s funny about that?” she demands, playfully and with a light tap on his arm.

He stares back up at her. “I don’t know, maybe we all just need a little bit of grace in our lives, cause you're the first person in a long time that I’ve spoken to.”

She furrows her brows and there’s a moment of pity on her face, he doesn’t want pity. “You don’t have anyone Graham?”

He rolls his shoulder and a hand rises to the portacath, the soreness starting already. “I don’t, no. My parents are dead and well… no, I don’t. It’s just me.”

She has a thoughtful expression on her face. “I’ll tell you what Graham, let me come round and help you out.”

He shakes his head, “No ta..” There’s a part that would jump at the chance if he could be bothered. “It’s fine really, honestly Grace, I’m fine.” And if that’s not the biggest lie he’s ever told, he can’t remember the last time he gave his flat a clean out. It’s not a mess it’s just, lived in, yeah, that’s what he’ll call it. Lived in.

“No one should go through the after effects alone Graham, I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t want to.”

He narrows his eyes now and watches her face. “You ain't gonna let this go are you?” She shakes her head. He could complain and ask for a different nurse if he wanted to, but … maybe he’ll indulge and then when she sees how he lives, she’ll decide and figure out that she can’t save everyone, especially when they don’t want to be saved.

“You wanted to die?” asked the Doctor, interrupting him on the way to wherever they’re going.

“It wasn’t as clear cut as that Doc, there were days that were good, days I felt human and alive. Where pain was hardly a factor, days where I didn’t throw up from the sickness or feel the numbness in my hands and feet,” answered Graham, partially.

“And the other days Graham?” inquired the Doctor in a gentle voice.

He sucks in a breath and knits his brows together, trying to figure out how to word it. “When I wasn’t throwing up, I was in my bed hardly moving because the pain was unbearable,” he explained as his eyes focus on specks of dust floating through the air. “I never wanted to die per se Doc but in those moments, I honestly hoped I wouldn’t wake up.”

The Doctor stops her walking and looks back at him. “I’m glad that you did Graham.”

He smiles weakly back at her. “So am I Doc, but back then, it was a struggle and something that I never saw the end off or couldn’t see the end off, it was… hard to say the least.”

“You’re a brave man.” He goes to shake his head, to disagree with her, but stops when he sees the honest look in her face. “Graham, you faced a terrible illness, that takes bravery and a strong sense of will.”

“I’m not sure it’s brave Doc, perhaps more stubborn, but I never felt brave. Brave were the kids who at the age of ten had to understand what death was, had to plan how they wanted to be buried, which superheroes or cartoons they wanted on their gravestones. They were brave Doc.” There’s silence, neither knowing what to say. “I never was.”

“I never knew, never…” He doesn’t expect her to understand, she hardly seems like the person to walk through the cancer ward in a hospital. Most people aren’t, easier to not look at people who are dying.

He shrugs after his moment of reflection. “It happened Doc and it still happens to this day.” He frowns and leaves a pause in the air before looking back at her. “I get it if you can’t say but do we ever cure it? The cancer I mean, do we ever cure it and stop it from killing people?”

She looks down at the floor. “Eventually you do.”

He stops again and inclines his head in thought. “Is it ever easy Doc?”

“What do you mean?”

“You could introduce the cure now, stop people from dying.” He sees that she’s about to open her mouth and jumps in front of her. “I might just be a bus driver with a very limited understanding of time.” He flashes her a small smile which she returns ever so briefly. “...but I’d like to think that if you could, you would’ve done it by now right? Cause that’s not what I’m asking you. I’m not asking you to cure it, I’m asking if it easy to know that you could save us but can’t?”

“It’s never easy Graham... and I’ve done something like it before, broke my rule and paid the price for it. ” whispered the Doctor and the tone of her voice causes Graham to take a slight step back.

“What happened?” he dared to ask, the lingering traces of his tiredness fading now in his want to know more about the alien woman in front of him.

“Her name was or is Adelaide Brooke…” There’s a pause and a thought flashes across the Doctor’s face. “She would be the same age of Ryan and Yaz right about now, born in 1999 and destined for greatness but I changed her history a time long ago.” She looks ahead and then back towards him, her eyes dark before changing back to something he recognises and there’s an uncomfortable moment between the pair of them.

He averts his eyes first, the intensity in hers something he doesn’t want to see anymore. “You did it for the right reasons though?”

“No Graham, I did it because I could and because I was so very tired of people dying… I was lost at the time and I swore off travelling with people, couldn’t bear to lose them again and it lead me there, to that point.” He feels her reach for his hand again and he slowly turns back to her, the intensity replaced now with an earnest look. “It’s why I warned you, explained that you wouldn’t be the same when you came back.” He has a feeling she’s leaving something off at the end of that sentence and he can probably figure out what it is. If you come back .

She pulls him from his musings by giving his hand a light squeeze, hinting that that particular topic is over for the time being. “What happened next Graham, after she asked to come round to yours?”

He knows she’s diverting him from further questions and he doesn’t know whether it concerns him or not, or whether he’ll let it slide for the time being and bring it up at a different moment. He decides to let it go and stares back at her. “I thought we were gonna do an exchange Doc?”

The Doctor turns her head back to him. “Technically we aren’t at the room yet and we won’t be for a while..” said the Doctor in an innocent voice. “And I have told you something…”

Graham narrows his eyes at her before relenting. “Fine, then, but this one is just as drab and dreary as the first…”

He’s sulking and he knows it, but the day after treatment day sucks and he hates it. Always too tired to do anything, always in pain, the nauseous feeling whenever you do anything more than raise your head from your bed, and the fogginess of thought... He's dragged from his melancholy and winces when the curtains get pulled open, letting the warm joyful summer sun into his dark room for the first time in days. His response, of course, is to pull his quilt back over his head like a petulant child refusing to get up for school. Screw the sun, he thinks to himself, way too happy bastard, he likes it when it’s raining. At least then it’s an accurate view of his mood.

“You can’t stay in that bed all day Graham,” stated Grace, his newest chemo nurse who, when she found out he lived alone offered to come round and help. He refused her of course, was happy to wallow in self-pity and wonder if treatment was even worth it in the long but she nagged him and he relented in the end if not just to shut her up. And he’d be lying if he said he didn’t at least enjoy her company or singing now but...

“Can if I want.”

Is his childish reply and he hears her sigh and start to shuffle around his room, picking up the stuff that he either threw on the floor or knocked over in his haste to get back into his one solace. “You don’t have to do that you know, I suspect the council cleaners will get rid of it when they come to clear this out when I’m dead and gone.” He hears her stop and then there’s a sudden presence in front of him.

He looks up when she pulls the cover off his head, his eyes squinting at the brightness again. “Graham O’Brien, you’re getting better and don't say you aren't because I know what your medical records say.”

“I don’t feel any better though, still feel like utter shit,” he muttered as he raises a hand to his eyes and sighs. “Sorry Grace, seems I’m a miserable bastard nowadays. This is why I didn’t want you to come round ‘ere.” Well, partly the reason anyway...

She moves away from him. “I’ve seen and dealt with worse Graham, a lot worse than someone going through a battle.” He doesn’t reply, his only intent or want is to try and sleep again. And maybe not wake up, at least then the pain and shame of cancer would be gone. He’ll never mention that to her though, else she’ll refer him to a therapist or put him on a ‘Watch List’ or something.

It’s not that he wants to die, hell he actually quite likes living, but living with pain is something else entirely different. Something healthy people don’t get or understand. And he wouldn’t wish it on anyone.

“When was the last time you ate?”

He takes a deep breath in annoyance, wishing she would leave him alone for the time being so he can mope. “Dunno.”

“You have to eat Graham, gotta make sure you're at least staying a stable weight.”

He can see her looking at his gaunt face and arms, so he pulls the cover back up again and rolls over in defiance. “What’s the point when I’m only going to throw it up, I’m tired and I’m not hungry.” Not to mention the smell of food turns his stomach.

She sighs again. “You’re worse than my grandson and he’s a good few decades younger than you.”

“What’s his name?” he decides to ask, anything to change the subject about him eating. He doesn’t want to be reminded of the fact that he can’t do it any more, one of the few pleasures in his life, taken away from him.

“Ryan, he’s the light of my life. He’s had it hard with his mum passing at such a young age, and, my son Aaron well..” He can imagine the worry lines creasing on her face. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing Graham, trying to change the subject.” She makes her way back into his vision, and he knows she’s using the same voice that this Ryan probably hears. “Right, I want you out of that bed in five minutes or I’ll come back and pull those covers off you cause they too need washing.”

He watches as she leaves the room, her humming distracting and pleasant to listen to. Perhaps he should get up, follow her advice for once. With a deep sigh, he sits up, a wave of sickness hitting him instantly forcing him to swallow it down. When he thinks he’s in the clear he pushes himself up from the bed and makes his way from the room, legs aching, arms aching, everything fucking aching. He only stops to grab his now too big dressing gown on the way to his living room and when he gets there he lies down uselessly on the sofa, only reaching over to pull the throw over himself. He reckons he looks right pathetic at the moment but he hardly cares anymore.

Grace comes into the living room and he hears her sigh for the third time this morning. “The idea was to get you to do stuff around your flat Graham, not get you from that bed and onto the sofa instead.”

“You didn’t specify.” countered Graham, smugly and from his cocoon of pity.

“No I didn’t but you’re old enough to know what I meant,” argued Grace, her voice never harsh, always warm and kind no matter how rude he is to her.

He stays lying there, a guilty feeling overcoming as the seconds go by. There’s a woman that he hardly knows cleaning his flat for him, a woman who is too damn qualified to be running around after him, and finally, a woman with her own worries to fret about and he’s using her. He can’t help but wonder what his own mum would say? She’ll probably bollock him and give him a proper good lecture.

“What do you want me to do then?” he questioned, sitting up reluctantly and he pointedly ignores the smug look in her eyes.

“Have a shower for one thing and then I want you to eat something.” He frowns at her but follows her instructions. He purposely avoids looking into the floor length mirror, doesn’t need to see what he looks like. No hair, gaunt… an inner part of him briefly whispering the words ‘like a corpse’ to him but he shakes that away quickly and makes his way from the bathroom.

He finds clothes laid out for him and he can’t help but hold them and stare down at the sizes. It’s all too big now and they'd hang off him, make him look ridiculous. Throwing them back down, he bends and reaches out for his joggers and hoodie again, at least he can adjust the size to them and they cover the worst of it. He pulls the hood upwards and hides his hairless head.

After changing he makes his way to his kitchen, a place he loved before cancer ruined one of the few things he cared for in his sad, lonely life, which is a lie cause he has friends but he’s happy to indulge in the gloom at the moment. He stares around the room, seeing that Grace has cleaned it and she’s put something out for him to eat, just a basic sandwich, plain and without flavour as he picks at it.

“At least you’re eating and out of that bed now Graham,” said Grace from behind him.

There’s a childish part of him that wants to push the food away, prove that he wasn’t eating and that she was wrong. “It’s plain and boring,” he whined instead, not actually caring about the taste.

“Well, it’s the best I can do with what you have in here, never was a big cook, always fell to my late husband to do.”

He picks a little more at the sandwich before finally pushing it away as his stomach fights the urge to reject it. “You were married?”

“Yeah, I was.” He hears the kettle clicking on and as it boils she comes to sit down in front of him. “He was a good man, he passed when Ryan, the grandson I mentioned earlier was five, been over a decade now.”

He inclines his head to the side, watching the remorseful look on her face. “Sorry ‘bout your loss.” He means it, she’s a nice woman and she hardly deserves to lose someone she loves. “Truly, I am.”

Grace gives him a smile, and reaches over to his hand, grasping it in hers. “How about you?”

She feels warm, warmer than he does anyway. Such coldness eats away at him now. “I had a cat, does that count?” he joked, or at least tried to, desiring to cover what he’s feeling. “I named him after my boss at the bus station. Both are sour bastards, sorta like me now,” he mentioned with a shrug before finally pulling his hands away and resting them on his lap.

“You’re a bus driver?” he looks up and watches her face. “You better not be like James Blake." He gives her a perplexed look. “Blake the snake.”

He frowns in confusion again, completely lost now. “Who?”

“Never you worry ‘bout that, he just gave all bus drivers a bad name...”

“I wish I knew her for longer Graham.” The Doctor said while pulling him from his story.

“I wish I did as well Doc.” he agreed. “I wanted more with her but..”

“You can’t.” said the Doctor, her voice deathly quiet. “You never can, once they’re gone.”

“They’re gone.” he finished for her. “You lost someone like her didn’t you?” She only nods her confirmation and he looks down. “It’s never easy is it.”

She walks away and heads further down the corridors and he follows behind without question, he doesn’t need her to say anything or offer half baked reassurances that it’ll be fine when he knows it won’t be. Of course, it’ll get better but there will be days where all he thinks about is Grace and the lump in his throat won’t disappear.

He’ll dread those days to come and at the same time, he wishes for them. Wishes for the pain and the hurt to be gone but for that to happen he’ll have to lose everything, his memories of her and he doesn’t want to give that up. So he’ll live with the pain, a bit different but he’s lived with pain before, he’ll do it again.

“We’re here.”

He drags his eyes back up to the Doctor’s back again and then forward as he stares at the door. He half expected some grand affair, not a door that looks like it leads to a stationary cupboard.

Her hands stay by her side and as he comes to a standstill next to her he sees the rapid rise and fall of her chest. “We don’t have to enter if it’s hard on you.”

“It’s not hard to enter Graham.” Her face has that far away look on it and he sees the thoughts whirling across it as she takes a step forward, raising her hand towards the door. It lingers on the wooden panels, tracing the circular patterns on it.

He watches her hand move and observes the patterns, they’re like the ones he finds all over the ship. He never asked what they were and if they had meaning or whether they were just simply… patterns but judging how she carefully moves her hand he knows they’re more than just that.

“What is that, those marks Doc?”

Her hand pauses over one. “Words, names, most untranslatable,” she answered before pushing her hand against the door and walking in.

He follows after her and stares around the room as it comes alive with light. The Doctor stops her walking and slowly turns to face him again, the ancient and sad look on her face like a well-worn jumper now. “Welcome to my mausoleum Graham.”

He locks his eyes on hers and steps forward. “Mausoleum?”

She doesn’t reply again as she moves further into the room and over towards a shelf. Frowning at her back he follows her again like a loyal dog and comes to a standstill next to her, his eyes looking at the assortment of stuff, the meaning of them lost completely on him.

“What is all this stuff Doctor?”

Her hand reaches for a small bluish star-shaped object, broken on one end and he wonders what meaning this could have to her. She traces a finger across it lovingly and reverently before handing it over and he takes it with care before looking up at her in question.

“It was Adric’s, he was awarded it for his gift in mathematics, brilliant boy and not from this universe. He stowed aboard my TARDIS oh so long ago now. I was so young then.” He watches her eyes as she talks about him. “Ryan and Yaz, they’re the same age as he was.”

He doesn’t want to ask this, but he has to. Has to know. “You say was Doc, that can only mean…”

“He died,” she answered and gestures for the badge back which he carefully hands over. “He shouldn’t have, should’ve just left with the others but he had to go and try to save the day, try to fix it and I couldn’t do a damn thing to stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“He died on a freighter and became a fixed point in time. Couldn’t save him, had to watch on helplessly while he died. It destroyed Tegan and Nyssa, and the former never really recovered. She left, later on, alive thankfully but...  it was no longer fun for her and I promised to do better.”

Adric, Tegan, Nyssa names he’s never known and he wonders how many more there will be on her list. He flicks his eyes to the wall again. Countless judging by the items placed upon it. Will they simply be part of it one day? He hopes not, but he isn’t sure. This is dangerous, what they do. The adventures are fun, but more often than not they’re always mixed in with fear and terror.

She carries on staring at the badge, ignoring him, she’s too distracted by her own thoughts to see him at the moment. Her hand is wrapped around the star with care. “When did you meet Ryan, Graham?” she asked with a low voice. Hinting again that the subject about this Adric is over.

“Depends on when you want to count it Doc, cause meeting him when I was Grace’s friend was different to when I was Grace’s partner.”

“We have time.”

He sighs and sticks his hands in his pockets. “I’ll tell both then.”

He stares down at the piece of paper in his hand again and looks back up at the houses lining the street, he has to find the right one. The last thing he needs is to knock on someone else's like some sort of daft idiot.

He hardly knows why he’s even coming here. Perhaps boredom. Maybe, or something else… he’ll stick with boredom, the other thought, doubtful. She wouldn’t like someone like him and she deserves someone better.

Staring back at the doors again he spots the one she said and he considers turning around because this is stupid, completely and utterly stupid. Why does she make him do things that he doesn’t want to do? Or the better question would be, how does she make him want to do them?

Swallowing down the panic he makes his way to the door, reluctant feet propelling him forward and before long he’s stood outside with his hand on the knocker. He takes a polite step backwards and steeples his hands in front of him. There’s a fumble on the other side of the door and a young man opens it with a frown on his face.

“Who are you?”

He stares upwards and slowly his brain makes the connection to who this is. “You’re Ryan, aren’t you? I’m here to see Grace.” He feels daft, like a kid going round to a friends house and asking if they can come out and play.

“Nan, there’s a man here to see you,” yelled Ryan, the use of nan confirming who he is to him. Ryan turns back to him, indifference on his face. “Come in then.”

He gives a nod and steps forward, his eyes travelling around the hallway as Ryan stares at him. He pointedly ignores the young man's gaze. The challenging motion of who’s going to make the first move not lost on him, but he’ll happily let this Ryan have that, he’s too damn tired to be confrontational to someone with clear hostile notions. He suspects that the young man is only hostile cause he’s round to see his nan, in his place he would probably be doing the same. Hell, he’s done the same before back when his gran was alive.

After a few more, tense seconds he hears her voice and he’s glad for it. “Graham, you found the place then.”

He smiles, although it’s briefly, it’s there at least. She’ll be happy that he’s trying to be kinder, to himself and to others. “Yeah, wasn’t hard, was a bus driver. Can read directions.” He kicks himself for the awkward remark.

She only smiles back. Forever patient and understanding when it comes to him. “Come on through Graham. I’ll get a tea on for us.” He watches when she turns her attention to her grandson. “Do you want one love?”

Ryan shakes his head before bending and picking up his shoes. “Nah, I’m alright, gonna go and meet my friends’ nan,” mumbled Ryan and he watches as the young man struggles to get on his shoes. It takes an antagonising amount of time for the young man to do it, but he manages in the end. And either Ryan was oblivious to the staring or he simply chose to ignore it, he doesn’t know which is more likely but at least it’s over now when the young man stands and looks to Grace.

“You need anything nan, I’m just a phone call or a text away alright.” He frowns at the comment, which he thinks was more of a warning to him, telling him to not hurt his nan. Who’s he gonna hurt? He hardly has the energy to do much more than this and it was her idea to get him to come round, personally, he was happy to stay back at his flat and have their weekly… or more accurately every other day chats there without interruption.

Travelling across the city when you’re tired, hungry but with no appetite was definitely not his idea. And he’s back to wondering how she managed to persuade him to come round.

Ryan gives him another look before turning and walking from the door. He lets out a long breath.

“Pay him no mind Graham, he just cares about me.” offered Grace, ever kind that she is. “Come on through to the kitchen.”

He gives her another nod and watches her go. There’s the telltale noise from the kettle as he takes his shoes off. Standing straighter again and only wincing slightly from the pulls of pain in his muscles, which he’s quite proud off if he’s honest.

In his distraction, his hands travel upwards automatically and with the intent to remove the hat that he finds so regularly attached to his head nowadays. He catches himself in time and lowers them. No, it stays on. He hates the way he looks, the constant reminder that although he no longer needs the constant chemo, the cancer isn’t gone. The treatment isn’t gone, his monthly checkups… and the exhaustion, they aren’t gone… and he’s back to being bitter again. This trip here will knock him for six, he’s knows it, and he suspects Grace does as well. But he still came when she asked, and that was probably her goal in the long run.

With a sigh, he makes his way down the corridor only lingering outside the door when he hears her voice. Pleasant a melodic to listen to, before entering and looking at her kind smile.

“She had such a calming singing voice and I suspect she hardly knew she was doing it.” He explained as he pulls his mind away from the fond, if not sad memory. “I met Ryan a few more times after that, each one as awkward as the first. I was just a mate of his Nans from work, so he paid me no mind.”

“When did he start?”

Graham blows out a breath of air and gestures. “When he first found out I was dating his Nan or when I moved in? Take your pick.”

He watches as the Doctor considers the options. “Moved in.”

Graham rocks back on his heels and sticks his hands in his jacket pocket. “Alright…”

"When is your Nan usually back Ryan?” he asked, feeling slightly like a home invader when Grace isn’t here. Ryan just stares at him before brushing past and moving upstairs again, the lad hardly has the time of day for him.

Graham sighs and reliases that this is why he never had kids, or well that’s what he tells himself anyway. He stares upstairs before running a hand over his head, glad to feel hair again, even if it’s like a buzzcut. It’s still something, but it doesn’t stop him from wearing a hat outside. He doesn’t want strangers to see, to look at him and wonder why he looks ill. The hat covers that.

He turns and heads back into the living room, looking around the unfamiliar setting and he can’t help but miss his flat, of course, he loves his new home, with Grace… and Ryan, he guesses. Mainly when the young lad gives him the time of day at least though. Grace always said to give Ryan time, but how much does he need?

He sits down and thinks about the word time. He was so sure his was up, cause he’s seen younger men and women die, stronger people than he was. Adults and people barely out of their teenage years, wasting away and dying from cancer or something else like septicemia. He laughs darkly, being told that they’ve beaten cancer only to die from the fucking chemo. Their body shutting down because they have no immune system. The unfairness of it all, he’s in his fifties and he’s had his life, achieved nothing and did nothing and he gets to live. When all they got was to die at the non-age of nineteen. The young face of Liam flashes in his mind again and he sighs.

Grace would tell him he’s being melodramatic, or not. Maybe. That’s just his internal thought process now, the guilt about living when so many die. Some would call it survivor's guilt, but that usually only happens to people after traumatic events. Others would say his cancer was a traumatic event. He doesn’t think so, he just had it. It wasn’t like he survived a car crash. It was simply an illness that he had the pleasure of living through.

He’s not sure how long he sits there for, lost in his own thoughts. The only thing drawing him out is a loving hand placed upon his shoulder. “Have you eaten love?”

“Earlier.”

“Recently?” He knows she’s asking if he’s ate everything since this morning when she placed the same, bland food in front of him and he considers lying but he knows she’ll see right through him.

“No, but I’m fine.”

“Graham O’Brien.” He sighs and looks up at her, the tone of voice telling him there ain’t going to be any room for an argument. “You have to eat.”

“Are you my nurse or my partner at this moment in time?” He asked with a small smile on his tired but fuller face, less corpse-like. And he knows this because he can bear to look at himself in the mirror now.

“Both, now get yourself into that kitchen.” He relents and gets up, and hears her call for Ryan to get his backside down the stairs and into the kitchen as well.

He shoves himself down into the chair he claimed as his own, he did pick the other one but Ryan said that wasn’t his so he moved without question. Didn’t have the energy to argue with the lad.

Both Ryan and Grace enter the kitchen at the same time. The former sitting down and pulling his phone out, never once looking up to speak to him. Teenagers, he always used to tell them to turn their racket off on the bus cause no one wants to hear it after a long day at work. Some listened, others told him to go fuck himself. Seems like such a minor problem nowadays and he bloody well misses being a bus driver but no one wants a guy who’s more than likely to pass out driving a bus full of people. He can picture that headline in the newspaper.

Grace places something in front of him and he might love everything about the woman in front of him but one thing for certain, he doesn’t love her cooking. So he picks at the food again, his appetite, what little there is of it, not being satisfied in the slightest. He raises his eyes to see what Ryan and Grace are doing. Ryan shovelling it away, probably doing it to get away from the awkward quietness, or food. Grace, on the other hand, is microwaving something.

“You make me eat but you don’t eat yourself.” he pointed out before leaning back and giving up on the food.

“I’m fine Graham, and you’ve hardly touched anything.” He looks down and knows he hasn’t.

“Told you I wasn’t hungry,” he muttered. “What are you microwaving anyway?”

“Never you mind and don’t try to distract me, I want that gone from your plate.” He watches as she gestures to Ryan. “And you ain’t giving it to him to finish.”

He pulls a face and leans back even further looking sulky. “You are aware that I’m in my fifties right?”

She turns around and pulls whatever she was microwaving out. “I will acknowledge that when you start acting like you are.”

“Cheers nan,” said Ryan, standing up with his plate and placing it in the sink. “I appreciate what you do and I know you work long hours, so thanks cause you ain't gonna get it from some people here.”

He watches Ryan, his eyes narrowed and he knows that comment was a dig at him, everyone in the room does. He sighs and leans forward again and reluctantly starts to eat, if only to spite Ryan.

He waits until Ryan is long gone. “I appreciate everything you do Grace, you know that right?” he divulged in a low voice, his fork pushing the food around on his plate. “Cause I do, it’s just hard to want to eat when you’re so used to not doing it, when the very smell brings back memories.”

“I know you do love, and don’t pay no attention to Ryan, he’ll come round to you being here.”

‘Being here’, he thinks to himself. He wishes to accept that cause he sure as hell doesn’t feel like he’s here or really living anyhow, not how he was before the cancer. He shakes his head and finally pushes the plate away, giving up completely and looking to see what Grace is eating and pulling a disgusted looking face when he sees it. “What the bloody hell is that?”

“Graham O’Brien less of the swearing at the dinner table.”

He shrugs and reaches over, pulling it to him and grimacing. “No offence Grace but that looks like something my old cat used to throw up on the carpet.” He looks around the kitchen again and gets up to head to the fridge. He opens it and looks inside, quickly going over the basic ingredients. “You’ve got eggs in here, a bit of ham…” He pulls some of the other stuff out of the way. “...some veg, you could easily make an omelette or something with this, would take less time than that crap and be a lot nicer.”

“I’ve been on my feet for most of the day Graham, this is fine.”

He leans back from the fridge, his brows furrowed in thought. “No, love, it ain’t fine.” He turns back around again and starts to place the items needed on the side. “I haven’t done this in a while but you go and rest in the living room, I’ll make you something, probably should pull my weight around ‘ere anyway.”

She doesn’t argue and he can probably guess why, this is the first time he’s willingly done something without prompting and it involved food. There’s a brief moment of thought about whether this was her plan all along, to see how long it took him to get fed up with her… less than ideal cooking is probably the kindest way he can put it. Regardless he starts anyway, the muscle memory coming back. The smell of the food, however, turns his stomach but he carries on anyway.

It doesn’t take him long to make it and it’s not as good as he knows it used to be but honestly, he doesn’t have the energy to put that much thought into it but it’s something and it’s better than a damn packet of Super Noodles, that’s for sure.

And that’s how it came to be, he’ll time it and have food ready for her when she got back… and Ryan, whenever the latter decided to come down and eat it. He smugly knows that Ryan likes the food, but he’ll never say he does. Something about keeping that cool ‘I hate my Nan’s new partner’ facade all the young kids have he reckons. Sometimes he joins in with them and eats, his portions hardly the size for an adult man but at least it ain’t too horrendous to eat now.

Graham pulls his thoughts from the memory and stares back at the Doctor, wondering if she’s listening to him as she stares at the items. He turns his attention to them as well, eyes looking at each of the items. A pair of round glasses, an old mobile phone… and a Roman coin.

“What’s with the Roman coin Doc?”

The Doctor instantly turns her eyes to it, and she takes it from the shelf. “It wasn’t hers… but her pleading with me to save someone, just one person or a family… She even influenced a face of mine.”

Graham stares at the coin in her hand, this time she doesn’t hand it over to him. “What happened to her?”

“I had to erase her memories, everything we did together; it had to all go for her to live. Donna had to forget, and her grandad got to remember it all without ever being able to tell her, explain about all the people she saved. ” The Doctor explained. “But she’s happy, I think, I can’t see her to make sure, can’t run the risk of her remembering me.”

He doesn’t know what to say, to have everything removed and to not know of the things they all did together. “You did it for the right reasons, though, right? Saved her life.” The Doctor nods, but he feels the ache in his own heart.

“This wall is my greatest shame, Graham.” The Doctor places the coin back and turns from the wall. He has further questions, a need to ask who the other items belonged to but he doesn’t. “I always think us Time Lords, we live too long…”

Graham frowns. “You can’t be much older than…”

“I’m over two-thousand years old Graham, your life is like a drop in the ocean for me… and I envy that. Humans live such fast lives, they have a need to achieve… we stagnate and linger, hesitant to act. It’s why I ran away, why I had to leave.”

The two-thousand years shocks him, and he thought fifty-eight was terrible, he can hardly imagine what living to that age would do to a person. “Have all your friends been human Doc?” He briefly wonders if they were, it would explain the wall.

“Most, you lot spread yourselves across the galaxy, but I’ve had others.” She turns and smiles at him. “I was friends with a penguin once, well technically not a penguin but a shapeshifter.”

Graham blinks at her, hardly knowing if she’s telling the truth or not. He suspects she is, after all, who would lie about being friends with a bleeding penguin?

The Doctor turns and heads from the room, and that causes Graham to frown. “Where are you going now?”

She turns back and stops. “I’m going to take you to a place, somewhere I haven’t been back to.”

Graham jogs up to her. “What place?”

There’s a distant look in her eye. “I’ll tell you when we get there, Graham.” She reaches for his hand again, and he sighs, allowing her to take it.

“Lead on then Doc.” He replied. There’s a tiredness to him now, he’s been up for hours, but whatever or wherever she wants to take him is a lot more important than trying and failing to get to sleep at the moment.