The next day was nearly identical in every way. Some of the conversations were even repeated word for word. The Doctor was there when Rose awoke and he convinced her again to wear her night clothes to breakfast. She told him a story that morning of a turquoise sunset over purple sands. She spoke of how the Doctor kissed her and the people around them were outraged, offended but such intimacy in a public place. The Doctor kept his smile in place even through the pain. The little girl across from him had no idea that the Doctor in the story was sitting across from her or that she was once the grown woman in the story. She forgot every word she spoke by the time she finished.
The treatment in the infirmary was just as difficult as the day before. She stopped in the doorway and the Doctor was back on his knees, renewing his promise not to hurt her. Once the treatment started, she cried and gasped for breath, pleading again for him to stop. He told her the tale of Rapunzel that time and was glad when she didn't ask again whether he believed in happily ever after. The heartbreak of repeating the previous day and not knowing how many more times he'd have to do it... If this was his 'ever after'... He shook himself from that train of thought. He told Rose to hope and that's what he'd do, too.
He explained the patches again as he replaced the ones on her arm and forehead. She said nothing of how the patch on her head would make her look. She simply accepted it as she did most everything else.
He led her to the workshop and set her up with paints again. He'd hidden her pictures from the day before in case she questioned them. He had originally worried about her becoming bored of painting, but it was new to her today. He knew he was allowing himself to get too upset and discouraged, but he felt so helpless. He was doing the best he could, but he'd never been very good at waiting for results. And he'd never been good at sitting quietly while Rose suffered.
He was able to calm himself through his work on the rejuvenating gun. He finished disassembling it after just an hour and began taking notes on the individual parts. He had no problem remembering where everything went, but it was now time to catalog exact dimensions, materials, and power. As soon as he finished the reverse engineering, he could begin altering it.
He was sure to check his watch from time to time and he set his pen down at exactly noon. Rose started in surprise when he stepped up beside her. She only had time to finish one painting that day. The other would remain unfinished, because she wouldn't remember it the next day. It didn't bother her though. She was skipping through the halls again without a care. The Doctor smiled with her.
The afternoon was easier than the morning, both of them having put the infirmary behind them. The two of them spent the next couple hours playing mini-golf. The Doctor won, of course, but Rose wasn't far behind.
It wasn't until dinner that the surprise had come.
Rose watched the Doctor's every move as he cooked. She looked curious, but never questioned. When she didn't start talking, rattling off another random story, he realized just how interested she was. He then began explaining what he was doing. He held up the ingredients and named them for her, even giving a brief history on couple of them.
"Can I help?" she asked hopefully.
"Well, there's not really anything left to do at this point," he answered apologetically. "Perhaps you can grab a serving bowl for me? Up in that cupboard."
Rose opened the tall cupboard and huffed in frustration. "It's too high up."
"Just stand on a chair then. Mind you don't fall."
Rose moved the kitchen chair and hopped up. "Things like this were easier when I was bigger."
The Doctor dropped the spoon in the pot and whirled around to look at her. She stood frozen in place on top the chair, serving bowl clutched in her hands, and stared out with a puzzled look on her face. Her gazed turned to him. She looked utterly bewildered.
"I used to be bigger... I was bigger but now I'm small. It's not supposed to go like that..."
"You remember? You remember being big?" the Doctor asked hopefully.
She lost it instantly. The blank look was back. She was standing on a kitchen chair with a bowl in her hand, having no idea what she was doing there, and she didn't question it. He wanted to go over to her, taken hold of her and beg her to remember again. Instead, he smiled and politely asked for the bowl.
"And there we go, Rose Tyler," he said as he placed the filled bowl on the table. "Pesto pasta. Farfalle. See? Shaped like little bowties."
Rose smiled at him uncertainly. The meal was taken quietly. The Doctor wasn't really sure what to say. They could no longer discuss the events of the day, and as their nighttime routine would start shortly, he couldn't give her much to look forward to.
He was lost in thought. She had remembered, genuinely remembered being grown. And she wondered. She questioned why she was now small. It was a small step but at the same time, it was a monumental occasion. It meant that the treatments were working.
"Finished?" he asked. She hadn't cleared her plate, but had been pushing the remains around with her fork. She nodded and stood when he did. She seemed distant, he thought, but she still reached automatically for his hand when he approached her. "Bath time," he announced.
The Doctor escorted her back to her room and opened the double doors of her closet. Upon instruction, Rose stepped up to the clothing rack and began selecting a pair of pajamas. She looked at each selection a few times with a look of indecision.
"Tough choice," he acknowledged.
Rose nodded. "I like them all."
"That's the TARDIS. She knows just what you like. Smartest ship in all of time and space," he bragged as he patted the wall.
"Mine might still be young, but she's just as clever," Rose argued.
The Doctor took a step back and blinked at her in disbelief. Her response was accompanied by a casual shrug. She didn't even look up from what she was doing.
"I think this one," she said as she turned to him and held up a purple camisole and matching bottoms.
The Doctor nodded and uttered quiet "good choice". He was still staring at her bewildered as he took the outfit from her, but he quickly shook himself from that state.
"Don't forget some knickers."
Rose reached in the drawer without having to ask which one. He took them from her when they were offered and headed for her private bathroom. He folded her clothing neatly and placed them on a small table, then hung a large fluffy towel on the hook by the bath. He scrubbed his hand down his face as he tried to think, but he was overwhelmed.
"Bath's all set," he announced when he reentered the bedroom. "The water's a bit deep, so be careful. Be sure to wash everywhere and take care to wash all the suds out of your hair."
Rose huffed a small sigh. Was that exasperation?
"I'll be out here when you're done," he told her as she disappeared behind the door. As soon as the door clicked shut, he plopped down on the edge of the bed.
She'd remembered her TARDIS. Whether or not she realized what she'd said, he wasn't sure, but it wasn't a story like she often spouted out; it was an argument. He'd never been so thrilled to receive an argument in his life. And exasperation? That was the third evening he repeated those same warnings and instructions, but it should have been like the first time for her. He had been assuming that she would remember nothing at all from the days before, but perhaps there were pieces she could remember. He couldn't ask her though. He'd have to live on guesses for now. It didn't matter. His Rose was making a reappearance, little by little. The treatments were working.
"Okay," Rose said, announcing herself as she stood in the bathroom doorway. Her pajamas clung to her wet skin, having not dried off well before dressing, and her hair was still wet and dripping, but the Doctor beamed at her like she was the most beautiful creature in all of creation.
He was about to offer to brush her hair for her, an offer he made every evening, but instead, he simply handed her the brush. If she didn't want be coddled, he'd back off a bit. Tucking her in was a different matter though. He wasn't leaving until he had her snug in her bed.
When Rose had finished with her hair, the Doctor turned down the blankets. She smiled up at him warmly and climbed into bed. Once she was in place, he pulled the blankets back up and knelt by the bed.
"Beautiful Rose," he said softly as he stroked her cheek. "You were brilliant today. But you're brilliant every day. This is the part where I leave you for the night, but I want you to do one thing for me, alright? Just one thing... dream only the sweetest dreams. That's what you deserve."
He smiled at her and laid a firm kiss upon her head. As he moved to stand though, she took hold of his arm, holding him in place.
"Are you my dad?"
The Doctor was startled by the question, not because of who she guessed him to be, but because she wondered about who he was for the first time.
"No," he replied kindly, brushing her hair back from her face. "I'm the Doctor."
She continued to stare up at him with curiosity. Beautiful, wonderful curiosity. She was questioning things. Using her mind to make deductions, even though the accessible information she had to work with was so very little.
"But you take care of me," she stated in confusion.
"That, Rose Tyler, is because I love you very, very much." He gave her forehead another endearing kiss and got to his feet. "Sleep well."
He turned off her light, closed the door behind him, and slumped against the wall. There was so much to think about, so much to do, but he allowed himself just another moment to breathe in relief. Things were going to get better.
It's not a very exciting chapter and rather short, but I still hope you liked it. More to come soon.