Forged in Ice (Doctor Who AU Novel)

Chapter 14 A Ruptured Rooster is not A Chicken

 A week after returning to the guest house, dark, snow-laden clouds, promising yet another round of heavy snow, reflected Daniel's mood perfectly. He hated the routine they'd settled into. Nora left with Robbie right after breakfast to run the contracts side of her business from the home office whilst Robbie spent his days with a tutor and Addie visited with her friends.  It left him and Howie  to deal with Saki and Dylan's intensive rehab sessions. The clock on the mantle was his only source of comfort as it ticked the hours away to lunch, tea and naps. 

Saki had come shortly after eight in the morning for an hour of what she called expressive language therapy. She'd been pleased, that was her term -- pleased. He was glad someone was pleased because he wasn't. By now, he should have recovered. Well except for the leg, but at least his memory, strength and the ability to tie a shoe should all be back to normal, but he wasn't. He shook with exhaustion after walking across the floor, fell asleep at the oddest time and couldn't remember how to play Go Fish.

The carrot Dylan held out was the only thing keeping him from the abyss.  If he managed to keep gaining strength, the therapist promised him a pair of fancy ergonomic crutches with shock absorbers, making it easier to get around the house. He even promised that he would talk to Marcus about holding the stag party at a real club.He'd never actually attended a stag party and to the best of his memory, the Doctor hadn't either. As long as they were doing this whole thing as Howie put it, with style, he really wanted the club. 

So, he tolerated the weight lifts, crunches, and leg exercises. 

Today was good, though. They'd judged him fit enough for a visit from Harry, the accountant. He didn't remember the man, or why he had an account, but he'd brought a jeweller. Between the two, they'd guided him to a ring he could afford without resorting to credit. The use of credit was another hole in his memory, prompting a repeat of lessons taught early on. Even that was sort of a blessing; it got him out of the afternoon occupational therapy by exercising his maths skills. 

The second the jeweller opened his case, Daniel made his choice. The ring wasn't flashy, but it took Howie's breath, so that had to say something. He passed over the array of diamonds for a dark blue amethyst centred between two deep red rubies on a gold band. He fingered it, rolled it over in his hand feeling the weight of it, and then laid it next to the ring Howie had found hidden in a jacket pocket. He couldn't remember commissioning the gold band inscribed with tiny Gallifreyan symbols, but it made this choice simple. The two rings belonged on Nora's slim finger. "I can afford this, right?" he asked Harry. 

"You absolutely can, and a bit more if you want."

"No, no," he answered in awe, "this is it. Can you inscribe it to match the band?" he asked the jeweller. 

"I can, but it will take a couple of days."

"Oh. No. I want her to have it tonight, I can always snatch it back," he said with a half smile.

"Of course, you can," the jeweller said as he placed it a ring box, shook his hand in congratulations.

After, he stood in the doorway, shivering as he watched two men make their way cautiously to the mansion. He felt responsible for ensuring their safe arrival back to the main house.  It didn't matter that the only thing he could do, teetering on the frame, was yell for help if they slipped on a patch of ice. He owed them. An accountant and jeweller were not constitutionally made for sneaking through a kitchen past women planning whatever it was that women planned.

"Daniel," Dylan called. "You catch a chill, Marcus will have our hides. You need to get out of the doorway." The therapist helped him execute a turn away from the entrance and closed the door, shutting out the first flakes of snow.