**Say it with me, all together now: "suspended disbelief". Is it far-fetched? Perhaps a bit. But that's what makes it fun!**

The Doctor awoke to blackness.

There was nothing, not above or below him. No movement, no other signs of life. There was just an endless blackness that stretched on and on forever. He couldn't even think straight. Where was he? How did he get here? Bits and pieces were coming back to him…Rose! She was there! And he was there, too, in her arms (which wouldn't have been a bad thing under normal circumstances), but that wasn't supposed to happen. Right? He began to panic. What happened to Rose? What happened to him? Where was he? Was he dead? Why wasn't his time sense working? Where was the TARDIS? Why wasn't he hearing or feeling Her in his head? And what was that infernal beeping noise?

It was then that the Doctor realized that he had yet to open his eyes.

When he did, the florescent lights almost blinded him. After a few seconds of squinting, he could begin to see where he was. He wasn't dead, that was for sure. Most dead people probably don't wake up in a hospital room with a heart monitor attached to their arm. The Doctor listened to the beeping noise more closely, and frowned in confusion. If this rhythm was correct, then it was measuring someone with one heart, not two. But that wasn't right. He distinctly remembered having two hearts, but the feeling of something stuck in his left arm made it clear that the machine was definitely measuring his heart rate, and not someone else's.

"Hello."

The Doctor turned so quickly he heard his neck crack. Rose! Alive! Sitting, in the chair, next to his bed, watching him! Looking right at him! The sunlight from the window behind her made her hair shine like a golden halo. A fitting metaphor. Angel shining high, clear these devils from my aching heart…he thought that poem up on the spot. He should write it down, maybe tell it to Rose one day—right, she'd said something.

"Hello," the Doctor replied, wincing at how gravely his voice sounded. Add it to the list of reasons why he should never sleep: his vocal chords were very susceptible to sleep and needed to be used at all times in order to be properly lubricated.

Now they both sat in an awkward silence, both afraid to breach the obvious topic of conversation first. He had so many question to ask her (namely, what in Rassilon's name just happened to him), but which to ask first?

Rose seemed to be going through the same inner dilemma, but she spoke first. Braver than the Doctor, every time. "Um, happy new year, I suppose," she said.

The Doctor nodded his head carefully. "Yes, lovely. 2005. Great year, really great year."

"Yeah, you said that. Earlier."

Right. Earlier. The memories came rushing back and the Doctor could remember everything: the snow, the radiation poisoning, and all the good-byes. Rose Tyler. Dying, and yet… "What happened?" The Doctor had meant to ask her in a kind way, but the question came out in a throaty growl.

She shifted in her seat. "That's what you'll have to tell me, mister. One second you look like you're drunk, then suddenly you're all…twisted on the ground like you're in pain or something."

How much could he give away? One thing was certain, though. Rose was probably never supposed to meet him like this. He doubted she'd been going through their adventures knowing how he was going to die. The Doctor shut his eyes and tried to look into his and Rose's timelines, but he let out a strangled gasp when he was met with nothing. Nada. Zilch. When he attempted to delve deeper into his mind he was met with an enormous void. No telepathy, no time sense, no mental sense at all. It was like something had purged him of everything that had made him a Time Lord.

He wondered if this was what it had felt like for his half-human clone, whether this emptiness was common…hold on…if he was comparing himself to his doppelganger, his human doppelganger, then…oh no.

Somewhere in the distance a machine signaled an increased heart rate in a single heart.

"Hey! Mister, uh, whoever-you-are!" The Doctor felt someone place a tender hand on his right arm. "Calm down, okay? You're fine. The doctors all say you'll be just fine."

Rose's voice was a constant reminder of everything that was entirely wrong with this situation (even if he couldn't feel it through his connection with the Time Vortex), but then again, he wasn't one to deny Rose Tyler anything. Biting back a whimper of pain, the Doctor retreated from the emptiness of his mind and opened his eyes.

She was leaning forward in her chair, one of her hands clasping his arm in a comforting, yet firm, grip. Though her face was creased with worry, the Doctor thought she was the most beautiful sight in all the universe.

But a worried Rose was never a good Rose, not when he remembered the way she used to smile. He began, "Rose—"

She cut him off with a harsh glare and jerked her hand away, leaving a chill on his arm. "How do you know my name?"

The Doctor held his tongue, hoping that she'd just drop it, but that wasn't his Rose. She pressed him again, "I know that wasn't a guess. You said it last night."

"This morning."

"Whatever." She crossed her arms over her chest in a very Jackie-like manner. "So tell me, how much do you know about me? Who are you? And will you please tell me what the hell happened—earlier?"

He considered lying and erasing her memories then and there, but the Doctor couldn't imagine that he was capable of that right now, especially if he couldn't even access his time sense. Besides, Time was already destroyed beyond repair, what harm was there in causing a few more dents? "I'm the Doctor, the last of an alien species called the Time Lords," he said, "I travel through time and space in a blue police box called the TARDIS. I am 903 years old, and you aren't supposed to meet me until the middle of this year."

Rose stared at him without blinking. Then, in a whisper, "What?"

The Doctor sucked in a breath and tried to find the right words that wouldn't make her run for the hills. "I know that isn't the best of explanations, but it's true, all of it."

"It can't be! There're no such thing as aliens." Despite her words, she had uncrossed her arms and was now fidgeting with the sleeve of her winter coat.

"Aren't there? In less than a year you'll be singing a different tune, Rose Tyler."

"Stop it."

He raised his chin, though for what reason, he hadn't a clue. "Rose Tyler, nineteen years old, favorite color is pink but it'll change to cobalt blue, your favorite food is fish and chips, you enjoy vinegar with said chips, you participated in gymnastics when you were little, Jimmy Stone was your abusive ex-boyfriend who convinced you to drop out of school before getting your A-levels, Mickey Smith will become your boyfriend if he isn't already, your mum is Jackie Tyler, your dad is Pete Tyler who died in a car crash with only a strange blond woman by his side to hold his hand as he died in the street (that was you, by the way), you tend to poke your tongue out when you smile, you dream of traveling the world, perhaps even seeing the stars, but you think you're only a shop girl who'll never go anywhere, your mum gives the most horrendous slaps, you—"

The mention of Jackie's slaps seemed to remind the shocked Rose that she had such a weapon. She jumped out of her chair just so she could reach him and slapped him across the face.

The Doctor winced at the stinging pain in his face, but then again, he supposed he deserved that. "Sorry," he muttered, thoroughly disgusted with himself. Once his gob started talking he couldn't bring himself to stop it. If only that bloody machine would stop beeping!

"I'm not." Rose sat back down in her chair and glared at him. "How do you know all that? Have you been stalking me?"

"What? No, no!" He said, rubbing his face gingerly. "You…you were my companion. My traveling companion. Or, at least, you will be, hopefully."

She raised a skeptical eyebrow, but she wasn't in an aggressive sign, which was probably a good sign. "Explain."

"We travel through time and space. You and me, across the stars." The Doctor smiled wistfully, remembering all the days gone by. "Oh, just you wait, Rose. It all starts in the basement of a London department store. I'll look different, and I won't know you, but it'll be me. The first words I say to you will be "run", and oh, how we'll run! New planets, old galaxies, saving Earth time and time again, meeting historical figures from every time period, destroying the Daleks, ending a Cybermen take-over in a parallel world, stop the Beast in the Pit from escaping…I meant it, Rose." He refocused his brown eyes onto her troubled hazel ones. "What I said earlier, about you having a great year this year. Because you will." He smiled and looked down at his lap. "Just as I did."

Rose was silent and unresponsive, even when the Doctor looked up expectantly. Not running away was good, he supposed, though throwing her arms around him would be nice. On instinct, he stretched his right hand out to her, willing her to grasp it.

Although Rose saw his proffered hand, she didn't take it, or even acknowledge its presence. Instead she returned to a professional stance on the whole matter and said, "You didn't answer my third question. What happened? Why were you in pain?"

The Doctor sighed and returned his empty hand to his lap. He wished he had a better answer to give her. "I'm sorry, but, I'm not even sure I know. Could you tell me exactly what happened, from the moment you saw me to the moment I ended up in a hospital bed?"

Rose stared at him for a few seconds, considering him and his question. "Will you leave me alone?"

Though it pained him to say it, the Doctor breathed through his nose and nodded. It wasn't like he had any other choice.

After a slight hesitation, she tentatively answered his question. "After you talked to me, I was about to head back to my flat when I heard you grunt, as if you were in pain. When I turned you were bent double. I went to help you and realized that you were trembling and extremely hot to the touch, like you had a fever."

"That was the excess radiation," he muttered, half to himself.

"Excess…?" She shook off her curiosity and continued. "Anyway, then you started talking, telling me to go away, knowing my name…"

Rose took a moment to glare at the Doctor, who was so lost in thought remembering his own experiences from the night before that he didn't notice.

"And then you were shaking, and I called 999, and you, um…you started crying. You went rigid all of a sudden, and then…"

The Doctor looked up at hearing her dwindle off. "Then what?" he said quickly. She wasn't looking too good at that moment but he had to know what happened to all that regeneration energy.

She bit her lip. "Well, um, mister—"

"Doctor."

"Yeah, that. You sorta just…glowed, with a golden light. And there was this singing in the back of my mind. It was so beautiful…" She closed her eyes. "I can still hear it…"

The Doctor nodded, gesturing for her to continue, but then he frowned. Rose wasn't opening her eyes. "Rose?" he said.

No response. "Rose, do you hear me?"

When she failed to even twitch at the sound of his voice, he lurched out of his bed to touch her hand.

As soon as he made contact all of his mental senses imploded, as if they were on fire. But despite the burning, the Doctor felt no pain. Just power, pure, raw power. It flashed before his eyes and briefly made Rose's skin glow with a golden light. The words Bad Wolf flashed across his mind before the Doctor pulled back quickly, as if burned.

Ever so slowly Rose blinked her eyes open and shook her head. "My head…" she murmured. Then she opened her eyes fully and was surprised to see the Doctor staring at her intently. His gaze looked surprised, troubled…even fearful. "What? Is something wrong?"

"You…" He swallowed. "Rose, please. Tell me what happened. After I flashed gold, what happened?" Unconsciously, the Doctor's free hand combed through his hair, which was still its proper length. No regeneration, then. That makes this the second failed regeneration in this body.

Rose's face clenched in sudden pain and the Doctor's hand reached out on instinct, but he hesitated just before touching her arm, remembering what had happened the first time. Then, after a few seconds, Rose spoke.

"I saw you, in a yellow light," she said. The Doctor wasn't sure whether the soft yellow light around her was coming from the sunlight or some kind of excess time energy. "And then, I opened my eyes, and I saw the light. It settled onto the ground, and out of that light there appeared a man. Different than you, and yet, the same."

He was completely still, his hand now gripping the hospital bed's armrest with an iron grip. Rose continued, her eyes still screwed shut and her voice echoing like a prophecy. "This man stood, clothed in the same clothes as you, and walked to a blue police box in the distance. He didn't even turn to look at you or me. Occasionally, his image would flicker, as if he was on the border between reality and imagination. He entered the police box, and the box vanished in the midst. As it left, the glow faded from your form, and you fell unconscious. Moments later the ambulance arrived, and…" Her voice faded, and, ever so slowly, she opened her eyes. Rose's next words came out sounding confused. "I…I'm sorry, I don't remember anything after that. Does that help?"

The Doctor sat on the hospital bed, his entire body stiff like a corpse. He didn't think he blinked once, nor did he hear his own breathing. Suddenly, he remembered a conversation he had had with Wilfred Mott (how long ago that conversation now seemed to be).

"Even then, even if I change, it feels like dying. Everything I am dies." He had told Wilfred. "Some new man goes sauntering away, and I'm dead."

The heart-rate monitor continued to pulse a steady, single-pulse heartbeat.