She woke up slowly, as if she was clawing her way out of a dark, deep place. The first thing she was aware of was that she was that she ached all over; from overworked muscles to a pounding in her head. If it hurt that much when she was half-asleep, she could only imagine what would happen when she opened her eyes.

Next, she became aware that she was in tucked into a bed. Probably her own, given how familiar it felt, but odd that she didn't remember getting there. Odd, actually, that she didn't remember much at all from the last few days. At least she was still on the TARDIS…those sounds were clear enough even through the haze.

Third, she was dressed pajamas. Which was odd, because she couldn't remember sleeping in a pair or pajamas since the day she'd fallen through the ice on a planet that had been supposed to be in the deep of winter – but they'd arrived several months off of the ideal time. At the end of that adventure, she'd woken up in the TARDIS's med bay in a pair of the Doctor's flannel pants and a t-shirt. Since she'd never seen him wear them, she'd never given them back.

Finally, as she tried to remember what had led to her lying in her bed in such strange circumstances, Rose realized that she wasn't alone in the room. She could hear the sound of deep, steady breathing from not so far away. Not so far away that, unless she's in someplace completely unfamiliar, would have to be the big armchair the TARDIS had provided in her room. It was a thoughtful gesture, but Rose has never used it for anything except perhaps to sling clothes over when she's in a rush. Now it's occupied; she finally gets up enough courage –both to face her aching head and to face whatever's waiting for her – and she opens her eyes. It takes a minute to bring the room into focus. The lights are dimmed and her vision swims in sync with the protestations from her body as she turns towards the familiar figure in the chair.

Her Doctor is sitting in the chair, which has been pulled away from the wall and closer to the bed. He's spinning the sonic screwdriver in his fingers in a way that she's come to know means he's thinking very intensely, but that stops when he realizes she's awake. His fingers – and the rest of his body – go very still. On his face is a look that she very rarely sees directed at herself; in fact, she isn't sure she's seen it since the day she ripped a hole in reality, admitting reapers intent on destroying all of humanity, and gotten the Doctor killed. The look makes her shiver, and she can't help but sinking deeper into the bed. "Doctor?" she is tentative in the asking; but she still isn't sure how she got here. His expression doesn't clear but he stands up and walks over, carefully taking her wrist and checking her pulse.

"How do you feel?" he asks, brushing a hand over her forehead when he releases her wrist. Despite the stormclouds on his face, he is very gentle with her while he does his examination.

"I hurt," she admits, wincing at the pain in her head as she tries to sit up, flustered by his demeanor. He has to help her sit up, in the end, or they both know she probably would have collapsed again. "My head…" Rose trails off as he flips the sonic around, scanning her and then quickly checking the readout. He turns away from her after that, grabbing something off of the bedside table. When he turns around, she can see that he has a glass of water in one hand and some sort of pill in the other. He offers them to her, but she doesn't take them right away, still at a loss for what she could have done to put that look on his face this time.

"What happened?" She has to form the words carefully around the pain, and they don't come out as confident as she wanted. If there is one thing she's been trying to convince him of since she accepted his offer to travel time and space in a big blue box, it's her strength. Today, she is clearly failing.

"Not now, Rose," the Doctor is clearly exasperated, at the end of his patience, and when he brandishes the pills again she slowly takes them, then the water. "You shouldn't be awake yet. You need more rest." She takes the medication, if only to lessen the glower on his face, and then slowly lowers herself back to the mattress. As quickly as she has done so, she starts to feel the weariness overtake her. Another long darkness, just as deep as the one she's just risen from. Again, she can't help but call out to him, as he seems to be turning towards the door.

"Doctor," Rose hates the weakness of her tone, but she feels better when he turns back anyway. Despite the scowl, despite whatever she may have done to earn it, he returns to the chair beside the bed, taking her hand without her even having to ask.

"It's just sleep, Rose, so that your body can finish healing. Don't fight it." His voice is all the reassurance she needs, and she starts to let the darkness claim her, comforted by his thumb rubbing gently on her hand. In the end, it takes mere heartbeats for her to drift away.