November at the seaside brought grey, chilly, damp weather on a daily basis. Rose tried to remain cheerful, but the dreary atmosphere dragged at her, leaving her lethargic at best, enervated at worst. She managed to maintain a sunny demeanor during the many hours she spent at Maggie's side, but by the time she returned home, she was utterly drained, both emotionally and physically.

The baby was growing by leaps and bounds, adding weight and pressure to Rose's body. She felt huge and unwieldy. Still, the Doctor seemed to adore the slight waddle that accompanied her steps, as well as the considerable expanse of her belly. He whispered reverent words about her beauty as he lay curled around her at night, and during those few daytime hours when they were together she often found him gazing at her with a sort of awe-struck wonder.

They both appreciated the scant waking hours that they now shared. Maggie's case had proven more challenging than he'd anticipated, requiring considerable time in the lab as he created and tested various formulae in the hopes of finding the best one. In between his pharmaceutical efforts, he juggled an increased patient load. The weather brought colds, influenza, strep, and pneumonia to many of the village's residents. His practice was no longer contained to Durryvale, either. In a smaller-scale imitation of his experience in London, his reputation grew quickly, and after a mere six months in the village he saw a significant increase in patients from the surrounding areas. Some traveled as far as 100 kilometers to see him.

Most mornings he left the house before 6:00, devoting two or three hours to the lab before seeing patients until dusk. Depending upon the results he'd achieved in the early morning, he might spend another hour or three in the lab before finally returning to Rose.

Fortunately he required only three or fours hours of sleep most nights; he greeted each day fresh and alert. Rose, however, now needed ten to twelve hours of slumber with occasional daytime naps, too. This curtailed their time together considerably. Often an hour or two at night was all they could manage.

Occasionally she woke when he got out of bed in the morning, but more frequently she slumbered on. She knew that he checked on her and the baby regularly, but she often slept through his ministrations or experienced them as a sort of hazy dream. Sometimes she felt the soft kiss he'd deliver to her belly or brow, but often she missed it completely.

Still, she understood his devotion to his patients, and to Maggie in particular. She would never begrudge him that. She was filled with surging affection when she watched him attend to their neighbor with all the solicitude that he gave to his wife. For her part, Rose spent many, many hours with Maggie, helping the older woman through the nausea, weakness, dizziness, and malaise that accompanied her treatment. Angus tried to assist, but his nature was not suited to such things, and Maggie often sent him out on errands to relieve him of his perceived care-giver duties. She preferred Rose's efforts, if the truth were told.

**

The November chill yielded to crisp, sunny early December days. Rose felt a bit more energized, a bit less sluggish when she the sun shone upon her face. Several mornings she saw a fine layer of lacy frost covering the low shrubs and rocks. She found the sight beautiful and wondered if by some slim chance they would have a white Christmas.

She realized that their departure to London was looming. Her mum was wildly excited, of course, as were Tony and Pete. They shared enthusiastic plans for holiday parties and baby showers which, it seemed, would begin the moment Rose and the Doctor arrived. Rose felt somewhat less enthusiasm at the prospect of all the hullabaloo.

It was the end of the first week of December when she sank down at Maggie's side with two mugs of tea. Maggie was doing a bit better; the Doctor's latest formulation seemed to approach the cure he sought. He felt that he would find exactly the right combination within the next week or so.

Maggie was clear-eyed today, her severe nausea subsiding to allow her some precious hours of clarity. She took the tea from Rose, her gaze resting upon her young friend's face.

"How are you doing, dear?" she asked.

Rose smiled. "Fine."

Maggie's hand rested gently over Rose's belly. "It'll just be a few weeks now. You should try to get more rest. Angus can take care of whatever I need."

"I don't mind."

"I know, and you've truly been an angel to me. But you need to take care of yourself and the baby now. You're really working too hard. I'm not sure I've ever seen you look so tired."

"I'm all right, Maggie."

"Well, I'm going to speak with that husband of yours and tell him to have a really good look at you. He's spending too much time on others—and I include myself in that. You should be his priority right now."

"He takes good care of me," Rose replied. "But he needs to take care of everyone else, too." She grasped Maggie's hand. "He wants you well. I do, too."

"I know that, and I'm not sure I can ever really express how much I appreciate it. But I won't have it be at your expense." The seasoned nurse eyed her companion critically. "I don't think you've been eating enough."

Rose shrugged. "I get so uncomfortable if I have more than a few bites. I try to eat four or five times a day—"

"Make it seven or eight," Maggie suggested. "Let's start now." She began to push herself up from the sofa, but she remained weak.

"I'll make some sandwiches," Rose said. "Looks like we could both use a snack."

"All right. But then you're going to sit here with me and rest for at least an hour."

"Yes, ma'am," Rose replied with a little quirk of a smile as heaved herself up and shuffled off to the kitchen to prepare the food.

She and Maggie ate quietly and slowly. Rose finished half of her sandwich before setting the plate aside. With a kindly reproving glance, Maggie reached over her, attempting to retrieve the dish. The slight tremor in her hand, however, resulted in the plate clattering to the floor, where it broke into several pieces.

"Oh!" Maggie began to get up, but Rose slid to the floor instead to pick up the shards with careful motions.

She set them on the coffee table one by one. When she was done, she began to push herself up again. However, the room suddenly seemed to tilt, and the lights winked out for an instant. Suddenly Rose found herself on her bum, blinking at Maggie's concerned face.

"Rose! Are you all right?"

"Erm… Yeah, think so."

"I thought you were going to faint. You're white as a sheet. Here, lie back." Maggie set two pillows on the floor then tapped at Rose's shoulder.

Then the older woman reached for the phone, and before Rose quite knew what was happening she heard a rapid accounting of the incident related in a slightly accusatory tone.

Rose huffed tiredly as Maggie hung up. "You didn't need to call him."

"I most certainly did!" Maggie reached for Rose's hand and lifted it to study the nails. "Hmmph. He'll want to know about this."

Rose felt too tired to question the rather cryptic words. Instead she permitted her head to loll back against the pillows, and quite without meaning to, she fell asleep.

**

Vague voices woke her, or perhaps it was the jostling as she was lifted from the floor with strong arms beneath her back and legs. She forced her tired eyes to open and found that light still streamed through the window. She must not have slept for more than a few minutes.

"Hey," Rose croaked, watching the effort reflected in the Doctor's face as he stood.

Her husband looked down at the precious cargo in his arms. "Rose. Are you all right?"

"Yeah, fine. Just got up too fast."

"Hmm. We'll see," he replied obliquely.

She saw the concern and guilt in his expression. "I was only a little dizzy," she tried to reassure him.

He did not reply. Instead he carried her with swift steps toward the foyer. They passed Maggie, who stood leaning against the living room doorway.

She waggled a finger at him. "A little more time on her and less on me."

He nodded in agreement. "She's got my full attention now."

"She can walk, y'know," Rose offered in as wry a tone as she could muster.

The Doctor chose not to respond to her comment. She didn't mind, really, because she did feel terribly tired, and she wasn't entirely sure that her legs could support her just now. They both bade Maggie good bye, then he transported Rose the short distance to their house.

"I hope you weren't working on anything too critical," Rose said as he walked up the path toward their front door.

"Nothing's more critical than you and the baby," he replied.

She sighed and permitted her head to rest against his shoulder. The air was crisp, but she could feel the late afternoon sun's wan warmth upon her cheek. She closed her eyes. In a few moments they had entered the house. Soon Rose was lying on the bed amid soft pillows. She supposed she could acquiesce to a nap without undue protest.

Her plans were thwarted by the Doctor. He took her wrist to peer closely at her fingers then lowered her hand. Leaning forward, he gently lifted her eyelid.

With a short exhalation, he said, "Damn it. I should've seen this sooner—shouldn't have needed Maggie to tell me."

"What?" Rose questioned, feeling like the last kid on the block to hear about a party.

He threaded his fingers through hers. "Looks like you're a little anemic. It's not uncommon during pregnancy, and it's easily treated, but I should've noticed. I never seem to see you in broad daylight any more…" His tone was regretful.

"'S okay," she replied.

"No, it's not," he rejoined. "This could have been prevented with a little more attention on my part."

"Is it dangerous for the baby?"

"In this early stage? No. But it's left you weak and caused you to faint, and that was entirely avoidable."

"You can't monitor me twenty-four hours a day," she said. "You've got important work to do—"

"But not at the sacrifice of you." He raked a hand through his hair. "I'm going to keep a much closer eye on you from now on, and it's going to start with getting you to the office. I want to give you a good once-over… maybe a twice-over, or even a thrice-over if I feel like it."

His verbal quirks always made her smile. With a little grin she agreed, "Yeah, all right."

Noticing her expression, his own softened. "What's so funny?" he asked.

She attempted to smooth his mussed hair with a soft stroke of her hand. "Nothing. Nothing at all. It's just that I love you."

He caught her wrist gently and kissed her knuckles. She knew that he was counting the pulse beats beneath his fingers, but she didn't mind.

"I love you, too," he said, bending to deliver a tender kiss to her mouth. The sole motivation behind that action was deep, pure affection.

**

To be continued…