The Doctor sat beside the infirmary bed, watching Rose sleep. The bruising on her face was painful to look at, but he refused to allow himself to look away. He had caused this, with his thoughtlessness, with his inattention. If he had been thinking, even the tiniest bit, about the time, he would have realised how long it had been and called her earlier, before she had the opportunity to wander into danger.
His ninth self had been right, jeopardy friendly was definitely a good description of Rose, he thought as he leaned forward to check her pulse quickly. It was fine, but her skin was a little cool, so he grabbed another blanket and gently tucked it around her. He took her hand in his and sat, gently stroking the smooth skin.
He ran a hand over his face, realising how tired he was. The TARDIS hummed, and he turned to see a cupboard swing open, displaying a kettle and tea things. Carefully setting Rose's hand on the blanket, the Doctor stood and made his way over, quickly preparing a cuppa before crossing back to her bedside. "Thanks, old girl," he whispered softly, and the TARDIS bumped his mind affectionately.
He sat, sipping his tea and watching Rose breathe. After about half an hour, he stood and pulled the scanner over again, rechecking for internal injuries. The fluid around the liver was still present, but hadn't increased in volume, so he wasn't going to worry about it, at least not yet. He put the scanner back and just sat, watching Rose.
He began to turn plans over in his head. He wanted to kill the man who had done this, to pummel him and make him hurt like he had hurt Rose. However, he didn't want to force Rose to face him, in fact he didn't want her anywhere near the monster. He ran through in his mind the various tortures he had become acquainted with in his 900 years of life.
Suddenly, Rose shifted slightly on the bed, moaning softly.
"Rose?" the Doctor said quietly, taking her hand in his again. At his touch, she sighed and quieted, relaxing back against the pillow, and he smiled sadly. One of her nails caught on his skin, and he glanced down. They were torn, and she would have to cut them, but there was something...yes, there was skin under her nails, skin that didn't belong to her.
Holding her hand in one of his, he turned and grabbed a toothpick and a petri dish, he quickly scraped a sample from under her fingernails.
He opened a small fridge and set the dish inside to deal with later. He now had what he needed to track this guy down, and he sat back beside Rose, watching her sleep and turning over plans for justice in his mind.
Finally, he turned his thoughts to another track. He needed somewhere for Rose to relax and heal; somewhere beautiful and isolated, so he wouldn't have to worry about how she dealt with crowds yet. He smiled suddenly; he knew just the right place, perfect for rest, relaxation and recuperation.
"When you wake up," he whispered to Rose, "I'm going to take you to the most beautiful beach in the universe." He settled back in the seat, grateful he had moved some comfortable ones into the infirmary, and watched her sleep.
DWDWDWDWDWDWDWDW
Rose stirred slowly, feeling herself waking up. She ached fiercely, with several high points; her ribs, head and lower abdomen. She also had a rather pressing need, one that pushed her to try and sit up. She found herself restrained, not only by the pain that sprang up the instant she tried, but also by a hand on her shoulder. Her eyes opened fully and she looked around, trying to figure out what was going on.
"Hey, where do you think you're going?" asked the Doctor gently, and memory returned with a rush.
The Doctor saw Rose start to move and stood instantly, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder to restrain her. "Hey, where do you think you're going?" he asked softly, not entirely sure if she was awake or attempting to sleep walk, as stressed humans seemed to be prone to doing.
"Need to use the bathroom," Rose muttered, shifting slightly under his hand.
"I already know that there's no way you're up to leaving that bed, so it's no use pretending," the Doctor told her firmly. "I'll get you a bedpan," he added, tone forbidding argument.
Rose grimaced, but allowed it. The Doctor helped her to lift her hips, sliding the pan in. Once she was finished, the Doctor gently cleaned her up and removed the pan. He took a sample of the urine and set it aside to analyse, and set the rest in the 'disposal' unit for the TARDIS to take care of.
"How are you feeling?" he asked Rose, who was watching him through half closed eyes. She attempted to shrug, but gave it up with a pain-filled wince.
"Bit sore," she replied softly, in answer to his raised eyebrow.
"Bit?" asked the Doctor, raising his other eyebrow to join its mate.
Rose pressed her lips together, glaring at him.
"One to ten, Rose, how do you rate it?" he asked, watching her face. She thought about lying, he could tell, but finally rolled her eyes.
"I don't know, seven?" she replied, her head rolling back on the pillow.
"I'll get you something," he smiled gently down at her and turned to a cabinet, pulling out a fresh morphine drip. One of the things with the medications he had given her; he knew how long it would take for complete healing, but he had no idea fast the process would go. He had therefore opted not to put up any more pain meds until she was conscious and could tell him how bad it was or wasn't.
He hung the medicine, then carefully helped her to sit up, putting extra pillows behind her and raising the head of the bed for support.
"Can I get you anything?" he asked, eyeing her carefully to be sure that her new position wasn't causing an increase in pain.
"'m thirsty," she admitted softly, eyes dropping to the bedspread,which she was picking at with nervous fingers.
"I'll just go and get something from the kitchens then. You should probably try and eat too," he told her, squeezing her hand gently before leaving the room.
DWDWDWDWDWDWDWDW
Left alone, Rose sat and tried not to think about anything. She focused on the checks on the blanket, tracing her finger in a figure eight pattern around two of them. She tried to push everything else out of her mind, when she caught a whiff of foul smelling breath, and heard a cruel whisper echoing in the room.
"I'm just teaching you to stay safe," the voice hissed, and she whimpered, eyes darting, trying to see where it was coming from.
A movement near the door caught her eye, and she stared in horror as 'he' stepped into the room, eyes gleaming malevolently through a mane of filthy, greasy hair.
In panic, she pushed herself up, off the bed, ripping the IV line out of her arm as she propelled herself off the side of the bed away from the door. She made it two steps before collapsing, the pain overpowering her. She screamed, clutching her ribs, as he approached, his mouth twisting in a sneer.
DWDWDWDWDWDWDWDW
The Doctor poured a glass of juice while the toast was cooking, and grabbed a couple of different spreads so she could decide for herself. He was just grabbing the toast when he heard her scream. Dropping it on the kitchen bench, he ran out of the room and down the corridor to the infirmary.
He swung around the door, eyes wide as he tried to see what was going on. The bed was empty, the IV hanging loose, the morphine dripping onto the floor. "Rose?" he called softly, approaching the bed carefully. He knew she couldn't have gotten far, a suspicion that was confirmed when he heard her whimpering.
He came around the bed and stopped momentarily. Rose was collapsed on the floor, legs pulled up as high as possible, arms locked around her knees.
"Oh, Rose," whispered the Doctor, crouching down and approaching slowly. "Rose, come on," he called, reaching out and touching her shoulder gently. She flinched away, her arm flailing wildly. "Rose, it's me. It's the Doctor. I'm here, you're safe." Worried that she was going to hurt herself, he caught her wrists and held them carefully in one hand, wrapping his other arm around her shoulders and pulling her gently against his side.
"I'm here, Rose. I'm right here," he whispered to her, rocking her gently as he rubbed her arm.
DWDWDWDWDWDWDWDW
A hand grabbed Rose's shoulder and she struck out blindly, her panic overpowering her mind. She flailed wildly, until her hands where caught and held together, and another arm wrapped around her shoulders, holding her firmly. A voice spoke softly, calmly, a sense of vague recognition washed through her, bringing calm in its wake, and she slowly relaxed.
Feeling Rose's body relaxing against his, the Doctor spoke coaxingly. "Rosie?" he used Jack's nickname, hoping it would get through to her. "Can you hear me?"
"Doctor?" whispered Rose, her voice cracking.
"I'm here, Rose. I'm right here," he told her, pressing a kiss against the side of her head. "Let's get you back into bed, yeah?" he released her hands and slipped his arm under her knees before standing, cradling her against his chest. He walked back around the bed and started to put her down, but she clung to him. He noticed that she felt hot, and pressed his lips against her forehead. She was running a fever, and he bit back the urge to swear. He sat down on the bed himself, holding her close, positioned so she could hear his hearts beat.