Chapter Text
Martha looked grimly into the room where she was treating Sir James Tyler-McCrimmon and his wife, Lady Rose Tyler-McCrimmon, who appeared much younger than him, though Martha knew better.
When the elderly man was admitted, she hadn’t been aware that the age gap was a bit more complicated than a rich older gentleman married to a pretty young woman. Now, after ten years of working as James’ doctor and having access to their Torchwood medical files, Martha was much less judgmental than she had been originally. It was easy for anyone with eyes to see how much the Tyler-McCrimmon’s loved one another. Rose was utterly devoted to James, and he looked at her as though she were the most brilliant person he had ever seen. They both treated Martha well, better than most people did honestly. Being a doctor in the geriatric ward was sometimes a difficult place to work since dementia and mental health issues were common there.
Sighing, she gripped the chart a little tighter, pasted a smile on her face, and walked into the room. She was met with familiar and welcoming smiles from them both. Rose looked hopeful, which broke Martha’s heart a little. James was reclined in the bed, hooked up to various monitors and an IV.
"Good morning, Martha." Rose offered, shaking her hand from the chair next to the bed. James waved weakly but seemed more focused on watching the door, looking for signs of breakfast no doubt. The couple had been here for a week now, at least this time, and the staff was well aware of how much James looked forward to the meal.
“Good morning to you as well. I am glad that I caught you before they brought breakfast in. They’re serving something that smells rather delicious, and I know James can’t be dragged away if bacon is on offer, which you always seem to get, even though I have asked the dietician to restrict that particular item…” Martha said with a chuckle, hoping to start the conversation with a bit of levity.
The couple laughed and Rose poked James in the ribs when he attempted to grin innocently.
“She’s found you out, Doctor!”
The trio laughed together, but Martha knew she needed to start the difficult conversation.
“James, the results of your bloodwork, the stress test, and the echocardiogram came back.”
Rose froze for a second, eyes glued to the folder in Martha’s hands, but shook it off and grabbed James’ hand. James, in his typical manner, didn’t react overtly, just glanced at Rose in concern and waited for Martha to continue.
"I think I ought to be straightforward with you. James… your heart's failing, and I don't have an explanation for why. As you know, I've run every genetic test I can justify and considered every virus I can think of. Absolutely nothing fits. So, I looked into the transplant option, but unfortunately, you don't qualify. Although you've lived an exceptionally healthy life, your age means you're not a viable recipient." Martha explained. She had tried so hard to convince the administration that James should be eligible, but they had flat-out refused.
The room was silent for a minute as the couple digested her news. Martha could see James’ hand squeezing Rose’s tightly.
"If transplant isn’t an option, what’s the next step?" Rose asked, automatically pushing down her panic and shifting into planning mode. It was easy to see how she had been a beloved commander at Torchwood for decades. She never abandoned hope and was always thinking about what to do next.
James remained uncharacteristically quiet, but he caught Martha’s eye, expressing his understanding with a small nod.
"There is the option of using cell-grown organs, grown from your tissue, but it's not something I'd recommend for you. The organs typically last about two years before deterioration begins and at your age, it's unlikely your body would tolerate the necessary surgeries. They are only meant to keep patients alive until there is a viable transplant option. Medicine has advanced much in the last ten years, but sadly, not far enough."
James finally spoke, his voice mild and solemn. "Thank you, Martha, for giving us the news. Could we have a few minutes? Also, I'd like to go home soon." His hand wandered to his wife’s shoulder, which he massaged gently. He looked calm and entirely unsurprised
Martha knew James’ was a genius, by anyone’s standard. He had probably known what was coming before he had even walked into Torchwoods Medical Center. He was clearly here for his wife’s sake because he had likely already come to terms with the inevitable.
"Of course. Let a nurse know if you'd like to talk to me again or if you need anything. I will update your prescriptions and process your discharge." Martha told them, then left the room.
Rose immediately began to cry quietly, her hand clenching around his. The Doctor looked at her, his singular heart breaking, not for himself, but for the woman that he was leaving behind, again.
The Doctor scooched over in the bed and patted the space next to him.
"Hop up here Rose Tyler. This bed is too big for me to sit alone. Also, it is much more comfortable than those awful hospital chairs. The benefit of coming to Torchwood rather than an NHS hospital.”
Sniffling, Rose snuggled into the bed next to him and he wrapped an arm around her and tucked her head under his chin.
“Love, we've had so many years together. It never would have been enough, even if we'd had four hundred instead of forty. Even if I go tomorrow, I'm so happy I got to spend this human life with you.”
"I don't know what I'm going to do without you. What am I going to do without you? What'd even the point?"
"You are absolutely brilliant and so many people depend on you. You have millions of people relying on you to keep saving this world from every nasty alien that gets too close, even after I'm gone. People who love you- Tony and his lot. Your life is far from pointless.”
"But what’s the point if you're gone? I can’t imagine life without you." Rose asked with a hiccup, twisting to look at him and reaching up to cup his cheek.
The Doctor lifted her hand and kissed the palm, knowing that nothing he said would really make a difference at this point. Human grief was a long and difficult process that words couldn't fix.
Despite being part human, “Doctor” James McCrimmon had entered this room a week ago, fully aware that his time in this universe was rapidly coming to an end. He was very attuned to his own body’s function, and he had felt it starting to decay from the moment he was ‘born’ on the TARDIS in the Medusa Cascade forty years ago. Despite no longer having his time sense, he had always had a rough idea of how long this body would last. Longer than some of his other regenerations, such as his ninth.
"You're the most amazing and wonderful woman I have met in a thousand years, and you will find a reason to go on because you have to. I may be gone, but there will always be places to go and people to love. The key is to never forget that. Rose Tyler doesn’t need the Doctor to have a fantastic life.”
Rose inhaled deeply and wiped her hands across her eyes. The Doctor could practically see her shove her feelings into a box, to be dealt with much later.
"Look at me! What a mess. I haven't been this emotional since I was in my twenties. Here you are, like this, and I am being a self-centered cow. Doctor, we'll get through this together. We can look at other options when we get home. Maybe talk to some other doctors. Let’s just get out of here and worry about this tomorrow."
"Quite right. I’d much rather be at home. Blimey, I couldn’t get any sleep in this place."
Rose leaned over the bed and kissed him on each cheek then on the lips, determined to do so every chance she had, because she knew the truth, despite putting on a brave face. Her husband was dying.