***Disclaimer: I do not own these characters or anything else. This story is simply a fans interpretation.***

Also, please be kind fellow whovians, when it comes to cannon. I've only been a member of the fandom for a couple years, and might not have everything exactly right.

Rose Tyler had become increasingly worried about her Doctor. For the past several weeks she had begun noticing changes in him; not so much in his attitude but physical changes. He had begun to glow again. Rose couldn't remember much from his regeneration process, she had been a mere passenger in her own body when Bad Wolf had taken over. The one thing she did remember clearly was the unsettling golden glow of time emanating from his pores and spilling from his clear blue eyes. It was an image that would be forever etched in her memory. She had been so scared for him, for herself if she lost him. But the part of the memory that haunted her the most was her poor reaction to his new face, well after she had regained control of her body and was fully lucid. He had been in pain, pleading for her trust and instead she had mourned the body that was gone.

When he had started glowing again, she was determined to handle it better the second time around. No matter what face he wore, he would always be her Doctor, the same man underneath. That's not to say his new face hadn't grown on her. She loved his wildly perfect hair, his warm brown eyes, the sexy glasses he sometime wore, his freckles, his crooked nose... Really pretty much everything about him set her heart a flutter. But she knew in her heart that she would always love him, whatever he might look like. So if he was in pain now and fighting off another regeneration for her sake, she was going to do all she could to reassure him of her loyalty. Unsure how to confront him about the glowing directly without making him self-conscious again, she had taken to recording her observations in her diary; waiting patiently for a time to bring it up.

It was few weeks ago that she had first noticed the golden regenerative glow emanating from his abdomen. They hadn't been doing anything particularly dangerous, quite the opposite in fact. They had been enjoying some much deserved down time in front of the fireplace in the library, curled up together reading. He had been absentmindedly stroking her hair when she noticed the faint gold color. It had been muted under the layers of his clothing but it was disconcerting nevertheless. Not long after it had appeared, he ran off with some flimsy excuse about needing to make some repairs to the Tardis. Running and avoidance seemed to be his favorite ways of dealing with heavy issues. Sigh.

It wasn't three days later that she had noticed it again. They had expertly thwarted an assassination plot on Phobeus IV, and the reigning king had thrown a lavish gala in their honor. It had absolutely been more dangerous than reading in the librar, but it wasn't while they were in direct confrontation with the assailants. Instead, it had happened while they were dancing together at the ball afterwards. At first she thought she was imagining things. His dashing tuxedo was so dark in color that it was well hidden, but it was there all the same.

Since then, there had been a smattering of similar events, with no detectable pattern. Who knows how many times it had happened previously, that she hadn't noticed? It was so faint, she couldn't be certain. Was it his fear of the feelings they were developing for one another that was causing him pain? The thought was disheartening. Discouraging. She needed to discuss this issue with someone she trusted.

Two months ago, right after Mickey had decided to stay in the parallel dimension, a new number had appeared on her mobile without explanation. Rose had no doubt that it was the work of her dear time ship. When she dialed it, a very surprised Jack Harkness had answered. Rose was ecstatic to reconnect with her long lost Captain. After the game station, she had been sure he was dead. After all, the Doctor had made no attempt to go back for him. The Time Lord must have had his reasons for not telling her about Jack's survival, but whenever she brought up Jack he shifted his feet uncomfortably and changed the subject. However, the Tardis clearly thought it was important that she know the truth. So Rose kept the frequent phone conversations between herself, the Captain, and the sentient ship.

Rose flipped the phone around in her hand, debating. If there was anyone that she could talk to about what was happening with the Doctor, it would be Jack. Was this problem too personal for the Doctor? Would he consider it a breach of his confidence? Her mind spun with possible scenarios but she snapped to attention when she heard him calling from the console room.

"Rose Tyler!"

"In here, Doctor!"

He burst into her room, bouncing on his heels impatiently. "What are you doing holed up in your bedroom when we have all of time and space to explore?"

"Where're we going today?"

"The conspicuous Constellation of Corteffia, to contemplate their celebrated collection of Colorful Chromoxylography!" He waggled his eyebrows at her with his usual flourish.

"Awesome alliteration! For an alien, anyway... Allons-y!" Rose giggled.

"Oi! That's my word!" While he feigned offense, she grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the doors of the Tardis excitedly. She decided that she would call Jack if the Doctor showed any further symptoms of regeneration.

...

The Doctor had lived with humans for centuries, immersed in the miasma of hormones and pheromones and all other moans they exude. Never, up until this point in his life, had he catalogued what they all meant, especially when it came to arousal. Humans were constantly aroused, from what he could tell, and were completely wrapped up in the pretense of finding out if others were aroused too. The whole thing seemed like a colossal waste of time, until he met Rose Tyler.

Rose was an enticing, unfurling, enigma and he wanted to know all there was to know about her: her moods, her dreams, her desires... His last body had a keen sense of smell and could detect even the tiniest change in her chemical cocktail of hormones. No matter what perfume or shampoo she was using, he could get past it to the scent that was distinctly Rose. This time around he had been blessed with an enhanced sense of taste. But, short of licking her, he was unsure of how to use his new sense to read her emotions. Licking her would be enlightening, but not socially acceptable. He could still smell her, but he had to concentrate completely in order to glean any useful data. Perhaps if he got closer? A person's scent is most potent at the place where the back of the neck meets the hair line... No! This was the sort of thinking that had pushed him to this point in the first place!

The other thing his last body had was self discipline and control. As unstable and wounded as he was, at least he had stronger will power. While in his ninth body, he had become besotted with his brave little companion without having the temptation to act on it. Well, not too much temptation anyway. But this body... This body was born of her; born entangled in her arms, pressed to her lips. It was made for her. Any self control he had around Rose was shed the instant he shed the long leather coat. This body was manic and impulsive and filled with desire. It wasn't his fault that his desire happened to glow. Sometimes he hated his 'superior biology'. Who ever thought that glow-y bits would be superior?

Amidst their latest adventure on Corteffia II, they had gotten themselves thrown into a cramped jail cell, again. Right as their captor was trying to lock the cell door, the Doctor had grabbed his sonic and used it to flip the key out of the his hand. The jailer had been surprised, to be sure, but the Doctor did not know that there were five other guards within close ear shot. The second time they were captured, the guards took note of his transdimensional pockets where the all important screwdriver was kept. After arguing amongst themselves about whether or not all of their pockets might contain similar devices, the Corteffians stripped he and Rose down to just their undergarments. It was only through sheer force of will that he had looked away while they disrobed her. Such a circumstance was not the right way to go about seeing her soft pink skin one part of his mind had resolved, much the dismay of the rest of his anatomy. The pair were redressed in what looked like thin hospital gowns to avoid any further threats. The Corteffians were a generally peaceful race, and their jails were unsophisticated. So they had only managed to detain the Doctor and Rose for one night, one awkward night.

...

He and Rose had sat side by side on the hard cot in the cell, discussing possible escape options. As the evening progressed, it became increasingly apparent that Rose was going to need to sleep. The Doctor had never been one to deny Rose anything, and deciding it would be the most comfortable position for her, let her rest her head against his shoulder. She had fallen asleep sitting up, nestled into the crux of the arm he had around her. That was fine. What was not fine, was the 2.36 hours in which his head was canted into a position where he was forced to either look down her cleavage or past it to where her hospital gown had ridden up dangerously high on her leg. Moving meant waking her up, so instead he closed his eyes and forced himself to fall asleep. This also turned out to be a mistake. He woke up 4.78 hours later to the familiar, but inappropriate, golden glow radiating from his arousal. The Time Lord scrambled to his feet and turned to the wall away from his now waking companion.

"You ok?" Rose had asked after being shaken abruptly back into consciousness.

"Yep! Just fine here! Fit as a fiddle and so on. Just needed to stretch my legs, sorry I woke you."

"Doctor! You're glowing! Did those bastards hurt you somehow? You're not regenerating are you?!"

"Er... Nope. Just some... Uh... Residual regeneration energy brought out by the phosphorus in the atmosphere here. Phosphorus is innately luminescent and brings out the otherwise diminishing glow-y-ness which you might be seeing now. It's an optical illusion really. Human light receptors aren't as keen quite as mine, you see." He was stammering. Stammering! A Time Lord never stammers. Ok rarely, a Time Lord rarely stammers.

"Uh huh, whatever... We need to get you back to the Tardis, yeah? Just to be sure you're alright."

How could she always see right through him, right into the heart of every issue? He made himself reply with something slightly more candid. "I'm always alright. Don't worry about me, ok? We'll get out of here soon enough."

"What d'ya mean don't worry about you? I always worry about you, no one's always alright. Now let me see your stomach, maybe I can determine what's causing this." She started to move towards him.

"No!... No, let it go Rose Tyler." His rich tenor voice grew rough at her persistence. He hated denying her curiosity, it was one item on a very long list of things he adored about her. In this case though, as with too many of the highly personal and dark facets of his life, he had to insist that she drop it. She knew him too well already and it frightened him.

"Doctor?"

"I said, let it go!" The harsh growl in his words caused her to fall back into a stunned sitting position on the cot. His anger faded as quickly as it came on when he saw how much he had startled her. "I'm sorry Rose... Look, the glowing is gone now. No need to worry about it anymore... Now let's figure a way back to the Tardis. I think we are in dire need of some banana pancakes!"

...

Rose had let it go, at least on the surface, but it worried the Doctor that she thought he was regenerating again. He knew how much pain the last regeneration had caused the both of them. That was not something he wanted Rose to associate with their more intimate moments. While this body's penchant for lots of layers had prevented this interaction from happening sooner, it was getting more and more difficult to hide his body's reaction to her proximity. He needed something else... Something that would have been scandalous to own back on Gallifrey... He sighed... There was no Gallifrey left to scandalize, thanks to him... He shook his head grimly and pleaded with the Tardis for help.

Bioluminescent dampening pants. That was what he'd been reduced to. He had no idea how the Tardis had acquired such an item and frankly he didn't want to know, but he sent her his mental thanks anyway. He looked at the clingy, plain, dark fabric and frowned. He supposed that his days of Tardis blue boxers with swirly galaxies on them were over. They had been the one clothing preference that had never changed throughout his regenerations. Ridiculous! Really, just... just... Absurd! All because of the silly little pink and yellow human he'd become so enthralled with. No that wasn't fair, not silly... Brilliant, his brilliant Rose.