AN: This is part of As Time Goes By, set in the indeterminate future after No Matter What the Future Brings. So, post Doomsday fixit, bonded Doctor and Rose.
The Doctor carefully put the dermal regenerator away, then raked his suddenly trembling hands through his hair. He couldn't take his eyes off the long, pink slash on Rose's side.
It's healed now, he told himself. She's fine. She'll be just fine.
But he could still see the mark as it had looked an hour ago, when he'd carried her into the TARDIS. He could still feel the echo of pain over the bond as one of the not-so-friendly natives had swiped at her with a knife. He could still hear her whimpering as he pulled the fabric of her ruined shirt away from the wound.
"Stop it," Rose mumbled. "Not your fault, Doctor."
She patted the bed, and when he realised she was looking for his hand, he reached out and clasped hers in his. "How can you say that?" he asked as he played with her wedding ring. "I was the one who suggested we visit Hibinoni, and all because we heard they have a unique variety of banana."
Rose sighed and turned her head so she could look at him. "But you didn't know we'd land right in the middle of a civil war," she reminded him. "Not your fault, love." He opened his mouth, and she shook her head slowly. "Too tired to argue. Help me to bed?"
The Doctor bent down and picked Rose up from her uninjured side. Despite how careful he was, a tiny grimace creased her forehead. "All right there?" he asked.
She nodded and patted him on the shoulder. "Just aches. I'll feel better after I sleep."
He heard the unspoken request and carried her to their room, which the TARDIS had thoughtfully moved so it was directly across the hall. After helping her sit in a comfortable arm chair, he rummaged in the bureau until he found a loose cotton shirt that wouldn't irritate her injury.
When she struggled to raise her arms over her head so he could get her into the shirt, the Doctor's guilt threatened again. He pulled the top of the shirt down over her head and winced when he realised she was glaring at him.
"Told you, it's not your fault."
"But that's worse!" The words finally broke free. "Because if it's not my fault, then it means there's nothing I could have done to keep this from happening, and if that's true, then it means it might happen again. Only what if next time, the random alien insurgent is a little better with a knife or you don't twist away in time and the injury is too bad for me to heal? Or what if we're not close enough to the TARDIS for me to get you into the medbay less than ten minutes after you're injured? Or—"
Rose's hand over his mouth stopped the flow of words. Then she moved to touch his cheek, and that was when the Doctor realised he was crying.
"I'm sorry, love," she whispered. "I didn't realise how afraid you were. But you can't get lost in the what-ifs like that. I'm here now. That's what matters."
The Doctor closed his eyes and took a few breaths. Rose wrapped her mind around his, soothing his fears. "You're right," he admitted when he thought he could speak without his voice cracking.
"Of course I am." She yawned and slumped against the back of the chair. "An' I really want to go to bed."
He chuckled as he helped Rose shuffle the few feet from the chair to the bed. She winced a few times as she settled down into the bed, and the Doctor smoothed the wrinkles between her brows away with a gentle touch before he backed away from the bed.
Rose's eyes fluttered open as he settled in to the chair to read. "What're you doing over there?" she asked, the words slurring in her exhaustion. "Come to bed."
The Doctor shook his head. "You're injured, love," he reminded her.
She snorted. "S'that why my side aches?" She patted the bed. "Want you to hold me."
The Doctor hesitated. He ached to hold her, but… "I don't want to hurt you," he explained. "If you roll onto your side, or if I put pressure on your wound…"
Rose sighed, and the Doctor finally caught a hint of lingering fear from her. "Please, Doctor. I need you here so I know I'm home and safe." She slid over onto what was typically his side of the bed so he could sleep by her good side.
He was, as always, helpless against her please. And this time, she was asking him to do exactly what he desperately wanted to do anyway, so he undressed in less than a minute and slid beneath the covers beside her.
It took them a few minutes of careful adjusting to find a comfortable position, but finally, Rose had her head on the Doctor's chest and their linked hands were resting on his stomach.
"Love you, Doctor," she mumbled once they were settled.
His hearts skipped a beat, just like they did every time she said that. He could feel her love and trust over the golden connection of their bond, and knowing that even danger or injury wouldn't drive a wedge between them eased more of his anxiety.
The Doctor sighed and brushed a kiss over the top of Rose's head. "I love you too, Rose Tyler," he whispered in her ear.
Her soft hum of contentment hit the Doctor hard, and he had to swallow back the lump in his throat. Trouble really was just the bits in between, though some days were filled with harder bits than others. And if the rest of life included moments like this, then it was worth a few moments of terror now and then.
A memory snuck up on him—a memory of himself telling Rose why he was so afraid to be with her. You can spend the rest of your life with me, but I can't spend the rest of mine with you.
The Doctor huffed. Even setting aside that Bad Wolf had changed Rose enough to give them a shared forever, that younger version of himself still hadn't figured out one very important truth: a life with Rose would always be worth it.