A/N: I asked my best friend for a prompt. She gave me "drug use, hurt/comfort". Is this what you were thinking, sweetie?

Warning: I just about killed myself with cute.

Disclaimer: If I owned Doctor Who, I'd be very rich and would probably spend all my time following Alex Kingston around. Just sayin'.


This wouldn't have happened if he had been paying attention. Yes, she was an adult and she should be able to take care of herself, but this was all so new to her. He should have been watching.

Granted, it didn't help that she was jeopardy-friendly. He really needed to start finding companions less prone to wandering off; they had all done it, and had all managed to get themselves into bad situations, but this one took the cake. She was like a trouble magnet. It probably didn't help that she was so beautiful.

For a human, he told himself. She is human. I can't. Her life is so short. It would just hurt more when she leaves.

The rebellious part of him, the part that was usually more honest, knew that it would already hurt, that it might just hurt more if he didn't do anything, because then he'd always have that might-have-been hanging over his head.

"Doctor?" Her voice broke through his reverie.

"What is it, Rose?" he sighed, trying not to sound exasperated.

"I don't feel too good."

"I know, Rose," he said. "Come on, we have to get back to the TARDIS."

Rose shivered. "It's cold," she complained.

The Doctor bit his lip. She had been moaning about the heat earlier, and the temperature hadn't dropped too much since then. Stupid! he berated himself. He really should have been watching. The natives couldn't have known what their favorite recreational drug would do to a fragile human physique, and he himself did know, had known, what the drug did and how it was distributed. He should have been paying more attention. He should have been more aware of her.

Aware like he was now. He could feel her small, human body trembling against him. It was only half a mile to the TARDIS now; he could see it in the distance. He stopped anyway and slid out of his leather jacket, draping it over her. The soft, black material engulfed her, making her look even smaller, more vulnerable. "Come on," he said gently. "Just a little bit farther."

"Will it be warm there?" Rose asked, her voice tiny and childlike.

"Yes," the Doctor promised. "I'll make sure you warm up when we get there."

He felt her fingers curl around his; the digits normally so much warmer than him now felt like ice against his cool skin. At least she had stopped shivering, though. He squeezed her hand gently, and they walked.

By the time they got to the TARDIS, she was shaking again, and harder than ever. She could barely move once they were inside, so he swept her up and carried her to the infirmary. Once there, he tucked her gently into one of the beds, added a few extra blankets, and mixed up a liquid that would flush the drug from her system.

Getting her to drink it was the hardest part. She didn't want to, saying that she was nauseous, that she couldn't possibly keep it down, and she didn't want to throw up. Finally, he managed to convince her that it would make the nausea go away, and she drank it slowly. He settled her back under the blankets, tucking them close to keep her warm until the drug was gone.

She lay there, still wrapped in his jacket and covered in six blankets, her eyes falling slowly shut.

"Doctor?" she murmured.

"What is it, Rose?"

"Thanks."

Silence fell. Her eyelids shut. Her breath steadied and evened out. Unable to help himself, the Doctor pressed a kiss to the sleeping girl's forehead, and whispered the one fact he'd never be able to tell her.

"I love you."


A/N2: Just so you know, tomorrow's my birthday. You'd make me very happy if you wrote a review. Birthday fics are nice, too!

No, I don't have any shame. It drowned in the pool during swim practice.