A/N: Alright guys. We sincerely tried to get this posted, but we're both in our senior year of school, and we also spent weeks doing research to make sure the medical references in this chapter were accurate, so.. We're sorry that it took so long. We will continue to update, please don't worry about us abandoning this story. We have no intention to do so. We really appreciate you guys sticking with us, and hope you enjoy this next installment!

Also, thanks so much to our new Beta, Sano S. Sagara! She'll be helping us edit things a bit more cleanly. Check out her work, as well, it's awesome!

Please read and review! We love your comments!

The paramedics pushed the Doctor's gurney into a curtained-off room. Rose tried to follow, but she was stopped at the door, left to just press her palms against the shielded glass, trying to catch a glimpse of what was going on through the hanging fabric on the other side. She didn't waste more than a moment, however.

"Where's Dr. Harper?" Rose demanded, rounding on the nurse filling out the Doctor's paperwork. "He's the best Torchwood has to offer, an' I want him on our case now."

"Dr. Harper is still in India, he was temporarily relocated there months ago to assist with an emergency, and the fallout," apologized the nurse. "But Dr. Grinnald is available, and he's trained under Dr. Harper in E.T. medical studies." He pushed the form at Rose. "Fill this out, please.

Dr. Grinnald was bald, had cold hands, and looked perpetually worried and uncertain.

"What's the matter with him?" she asked a bit harshly.

"We don't know," he said, and there was a gleam of excitement beneath the anxiety. "It is undetermined, given the nature of his species, that and, well, he has no medical history- that is to say, er, no history whatsoever."

He seemed unaware of Rose staring at him as he continued on, his voice just a touch eager. "From his new exposure and instantaneous genesis, as it were, we can assume that his immune system may be unequipped, or nonexistent- really, with what you described, it could be any number of things that didn't fully develop. There's nothing like him anywhere in existence. Biologically he's impossible, at least according to any theory up until this point, which presents an unprecedented opportunity for studying the interactions between semi-compatible species. Humans and time lords can breed, of course, in theory, but this goes beyond parentage, this is… this is a new form of DNA, a new set of proteins… This is the birth of a species…"

As he spoke the worry had slipped into a secondary position, making way for the passion of discovery. Now, as he noticed Rose's levelled glare, his words became feeble and then faded entirely. He sagged back into concerned nervousness under the gravitational massiveness of her gaze.

"Is he going to die?" she asked bluntly.

Dr. Grinnald twisted his cold hands together. "It's- He's new."

The glass doors finally opened, but instead of the Doctor being wheeled out on a gurney, a strange, glowing pod of some kind was pushed out, a hazy film over the open top. She got a glimpse of spiky hair.

"-how much his body can take, with the unheard of building and creating of his genome-"

"What the hell is that?" Rose interrupted, pointing at the pod.

Dr. Grinnald lit up again despite his efforts to seem professional. "Ah! They've got him stabilized, then! That's a Kintzer Capsule, really is quite something! It sterilizes whatever is within the boundaries of the capsule, protecting the subject- him, that is- if his immunity is the issue. Normally, in less advanced hospitals, we'd have to put a fever patient in an ice bath, but this emits a gas-" He noticed Rose's narrowed eyes again and cleared his throat. "My condolences, Dr. Tyler."

"What for? He's not dead. Not yet," she iterated coldly, before following the pod into the hospital room.

She watched as they positioned the pod in the center of a mass of equipment, and began to hook it up to the computer, regulators, and machines that would keep him breathing.

The single bleep of his heart monitor felt almost like a death sentence.

Torchwood hospital had been created specifically to deal with the odd sorts of injuries accrued by the world's alien task forces. It was difficult to find a place for a hospital that dealt with so many odd injuries that wasn't a bunker miles below ground, but that was where Pete Tyler came in. The building was located in the outskirts of London, and officially registered as a research plant for Vitex flavors, top secret, which explained the constant hours, odd 'deliveries', and top-notch security. The ground floor level did hold up the appearance of a research center, with reception and security up front and labs in the back. The fact that the labs were actually hospital labs, working on tests and procedures from the subterranean hospital below, well, that was need-to-know, and not many did.

Jackie Tyler was on a warpath. Most of the hospital employees knew her by sight and were wise enough to stay out of her way, but an unfortunate newly-hired orderly strode into her sights with the intent of turning her around. She hardly slowed, shoving her security clearance badge under his nose. "Lemme through, pin'ead. My daughter's in there, and 'er alien, an' if you think your peaky arse is gonna have a thing t' say about me goin' in there-"

The startled man was saved by the fact that Jackie, at that moment, spotted the room number she was looking for, and his insolence became a secondary issue.

She shoved through the door and caught her first look at the man in the pod. Her eyes widened. "My God... 'e looks awful!" Then she saw Rose in the chair and hurried over. "I came as fast as I could, sweet'eart."

"Thanks, Mum." Rose tried to smile, but only the muscles around her eyes tightened before she gave up. "The doctors aren't sure when he's gonna wake up." She shifted, then changed the subject. "Did you get everythin' with Torchwood settled? Talk to the journalists? The last thing he needs is a bunch of cameras in his face if this gets out."

Jackie frowned, but nodded and pulled up a chair. "Torchwood's gonna keep this quiet. 'Least they could do after all he's done for them."

Her jaw was locked as she stared at the stranger in the bed. The stranger she couldn't bear to lose. "How could I not notice, Mum? I didn't even notice how ill he was. What happens if he dies?" Her voice broke. "I just- pop a few universes over again, somehow, find the Doctor again, say- 'Will you take me back now? I know you gave me the spare to play with, but I broke him.'" Her mouth wobbled.

"Rose..." she sighed, reaching over to pull her into a hug. "'e's going to be alright. Don't you worry. 'e'll pull through. Always does for you," she says gently. "It's not your fault. You couldn't've known he was sick. None of us saw it."

"I should've, though! I saw the- the exhaustion, the coughing, always gettin' pale an' running to the toilets- he was vomiting up blood, Mum! While I was only a few rooms away an' I didn't even notice."

"An' he should've told you!" she exclaimed. "It's not your fault 'e was being a bloody idiot, now is it? An' how are you supposed to know what he's doing in the loo anyways?"

Rose said nothing, turning back to the pod. The Doctor- or rather, the man who looked like the Doctor- was thin and small under the blue haze, hair slick from sweat and his skin puckered white. Her stomach rolled as she remembered identifying the quiet body that UNIT had fished out of the Thames, just as pale and blue and still.

She'd kissed his cheek, once. It had been cold as kissing marble.

She rose out of her seat, and, mumbling something or other to her mum, not even sure herself of what she said, she left the room. The damn heart monitor was driving her spare.

"I love you, Rose," Jackie called quietly after her, at a total loss for what else to do, her heart breaking. She glanced over at the unconscious man in the bad. "You'd better wake up an' fix 'er, mate."

Rose sat in the hospital cafeteria, picking at her greasy chips with no interest. She wasn't hungry. Why had she even ordered them?

A few minutes later Jackie found her, moving to sit across from her and taking a chip, biting into it and chewing slowly. After a while she took a breath. "Look... I know this 'as to be 'ard. An' I don' want you to think I don' appreciate that. I love you so much, no matter what, and if you want to cut this bloke out of your life I won' stop you. I just don't think that'll make you any 'appier. That's all."

"I didn't say it would. How's the deal with the crack going? Does the team know anything? Is Tony okay?" she asked.

Jackie blinked, but decided not to put up a fuss. "Tony's fine. He's sleeping with Pete an' I for now. Torchwood's doing somethin' with that bloody crack, but they're not tellin' me anythin'." She took another chip, looking around the crowded cafeteria.

"Has he told you that it's been talking to him? The crack, I mean." Rose sighed, then pushed the basket of chips over to her mother.

Jackie nodded, her expression concerned. "I know. But if Torchwood has any theories, they aren't talking. I'm worried. D'you have any idea what it might be?"

"None," she sighed. "Only that it might be- a scar, or somethin', from the memory of the reality bomb. A temporal rift. I don't know." She rubbed at her temple, a headache building behind her eyes. "You should head home. You don't have to be here. An' Tony needs you."

Jackie hesitated, but nodded, standing. "Alright. Just... think about what I said, alright?" she asked quietly, before taking her leave.

When her mother couldn't see her anymore, Rose let her head sink down to her arms. She was just so tired. Of everything. And unlike last time, there was nothing she could do. She fingered her phone, waiting for the hospital to call with the news that he had died or woken up. Anything to end the waiting. She jumped as it beeped in her hand, and quickly picked it up to look at the text that had popped up.

[Do you want to save the Doctor?]

Rose tensed. She looked to see who the text was from, but the field was blank.

[Who is this?]

[That isn't the question you should be asking.]

Her hands shook as she typed back, [How did you get this number?]

[Also the wrong question. How are your scars?]

Rose had plenty of scars. It came with the job- a long one down her hip from a Dravidian Manticore three years ago, an acid burn over her left shoulder, a penny-sized white circle near her navel from an encounter with a rough gang in a rougher universe. None stood out as being special.

[What are you talking about? Who is this?] she repeated.

[The scars on your mind, poppet. From the vortex, but not big enough to save the man you love. Frustrated?]

Rose flinched at the name.

[The Doctor doesn't need saving. He's in another universe.]

[Want to tear down those walls?]

Rose could feel her heart pulsing in her mouth. Before she had time to respond or even think too deeply on it, another text popped onto the screen.

[You can.]

[How]

[Do as I say.]

[Fuck off. ]

[Ok! Ta! :) ]

The mobile suddenly went dark, and then restarted, buzzing in her hand as the main screen loaded. Rose immediately opened the text messages with a sinking suspicion, and to her (unsurprised) dismay, no record remained of the conversation. She cursed quietly, and shoved the phone into her pocket. She didn't want to think about this right now.

She headed back down to the room where the Doctor's pod was hooked up to a half dozen machines. She sat next to his bed, reaching out to feel the buzz of the energy barrier against her fingers. She wasn't allowed to reach past it, and was surprised to find that that bothered her. Despite everything, she wanted to hold his hand. He looked the part of a dying man, skin taking on an odd tint through the bluish lens that was the barrier. The once-god looked small, alive only at the whim of the universe, and there was nothing she could do.

So Rose talked. Talked about running in a cold basement from shop window dummies, and diva talking flaps of skin at the end of the world, and werewolves, and getting Her Majesty the Queen to say 'I am not amused' which you still owe me for, knob. About how she'd thought she'd lost him in the pit, and then again, so soon after, at the 2012 Olympics, and then really losing him at Canary Wharf. And she talked about how hard she worked for six years because what she wanted more than anything was to hold his hand again. They weren't lies, not really. They just weren't directed to him. Eventually her voice dwindled and her mouth dried and she sank low in the less-than-comfortable chair, dozing off despite the beeping of the heart monitor.

He was drifting slowly through darkness, bits of memory flashing by, disjointed and twisted. All of them, however, circled around one individual. He watched her walk through the darkness, but no matter how he tried to reach her she slipped away. He tried calling out, but choked, something caught in his throat. He reached up to his mouth, and his hand came away dripping blood. Suddenly he was coughing, gagging, trying for air. Rose... Rose... ROSE!

Then suddenly he was awake, scrabbling to clear whatever was obstructing his throat. He found a tube, and followed it up towards his mouth, too panicked to bother thinking about why it was there. He needed to breathe, get this thing out of his throat. It hurt- Rose. Where was Rose?

His movement stirred her out of sleep. She sat bolt upright, not even sure if he was really awake or not. The Doctor whimpered, his clumsy hands trying to pull on the tube going down his throat, and she couldn't help herself. Rose pushed through the barrier, rules be damned, catching both of his hands and holding them tight. The field buzzed around her arms, and she could hear an alarm going off somewhere at her intrusion, but she ignored it "Sshh, shh, it's okay. You're- It's helpin' you breathe, alright?"

Her voice. Her hand. He grabbed for her desperately, gripping her hand like a lifeline as he floated into awareness. A few moments later he thought to open his eyes, blinking a few times to focus before he found her face. She was strangely tinted, but almost definitely real. He let out a sigh of relief, coughing slightly as halfway through the machine sent air in. He tried to relax and let it do the work.

His skinny fingers clutched at Rose's desperately, and she squeezed back. "Hello, again," she smiled a bit tearfully. "Told you I wouldn't let you go off that easy."

He tried to speak, but all that came out was a raspy whistle, and he cringed a little, swallowing and trying again, but all he could manage was a gag and he squeezed her hand again. He tried looking around, but he couldn't see much beyond the confines of the pod. The machine forced air in and he winced as his lungs protested like he was breathing acid.

"Try not to talk, the doctors have probably noticed a fluctuation in your monitors an' are on their way." Or the fact that her arm was shoved through the sanitation field. She swallowed, unnerved at how terrified she'd been of losing him.

She seemed confident that he wasn't going to drop dead on the spot, so that was alright, he supposed. Sure enough, Dr. Grinnald and several orderlies hurried into the room.

"Dr. Tyler, remove your arms from the pod-"

"He's awake!" Rose turned, tightening her grip on his hand, tensing as they approached her.

"We suspect his immune system is compromised, breaching the field makes it less effective and you put him at risk."

Rose raised an eyebrow. "The field sanitizes anything that goes through it, doesn't it?" she retorted, not faltering. Grinnald paused slightly, before his eyes flickered to the Doctor, who was staring at the room with a confused, pained expression.

"We can discuss this later, if you like, but at this time we need to be able to examine him properly, so if you'll please step back…"

Rose hesitated another moment, then pulled away, her fingers uncurling from around his reluctantly, stepping back to let the doctors approach.

"Glad to see you're awake, Mr. Smith," Grinnald beamed as he stepped forward, looking at the monitors.

The Doctor caught his gaze, wishing he could respond, but he knew better than to try and talk around the tube down his throat, so he contented himself to lock eyes with Grinnald, gaze clear despite the sharp, burning pain in his lungs.

"We weren't sure if you were going to wake up, to be honest. Such an unprecedented case - your case, that is, your condition, it's extraordinary. For the DNA to be merged on such a fundamental level- You see, that's my theory. None of our tests are back yet- at least, most aren't, and the ones that are aren't telling us anything. Can't. We don't know what to test for. Any number of complications- the construct of your lungs, or, as you can see, the precautions we've taken with your immune system - it's quite possible you don't have one. But there's never been anything- merging of the DNA- that has to have consequences. That's what I'm banking on. That it's something to do with that, but of course I can't be sure, and I wonder, you are the expert in all of this of course-"

It was then that he seemed to realize his patient's predicament and went a bit flustered.

"Ah, yes, of course… Let's… I'd like to get rid of that tube, Mr. Smith," Grinnald finally said sympathetically. "Do you feel like if I disconnect the ventilator you'd be able to breathe on your own?"

He nodded enthusiastically, before stopping short as that caused the tube to move in his throat.

"Stay still, please," Grinnald suggested, a touch of concern in his overwhelmed expression. "Alright, I'm going to remove the ventilator, get you a bit hyperventilated so that you have oxygen in your lungs throughout the process, and we can go from there."

The next few minutes were filled with quiet tests and questions as the ventilator was disconnected, mainly along the lines of 'Can you breath alright?' The Doctor kept his face as sass-free as possible as he nodded his responses, wishing they'd hurry along.

Finally, Grinnald gave the all-clear. He held still as the doctors worked to remove the tube from his trachea, tape ripped away. He gagged and screwed his eyes shut, but a few seconds later it was free. Taking in a breath was sharp and painful, shocking him into a deeper gasp. A mask was slipped over his face and started an easier flow of oxygen, and everyone watched him take several easier breaths. He looked up at Grinnald and nodded for the change and the medic switched the mask with a nasal cannula.

"Thank you," he said hoarsely, making a face at how raw his throat felt, and the way his lungs burned when he breathed. Still, better than not being able to talk. "You're right, by the way. Mostly. Well done."

Grinnald perked up slightly in curiosity. "How do you mean, exactly?"

"It is my DNA, at least that's what it seems to be, judging from… Well, you wouldn't know, would you, can't run diagnostics, you humans. Seems I still can, which is a good thing. Also suggests you haven't given me anything to dull my senses, which is also brilliant…" he paused to take a careful breath. "No pain killers or anything like that?"

Grinnald shook his head. "We know you have several allergies but were unable to obtain a complete list-"

"Good, no, that's good, none of that nonsense anywhere near me, alright? Need to be able to feel what's going on. I can do with my fancy time lord bits, but not if my head's swimmy. Anyway it's not the immune system. And even if it is, disease isn't going to have a chance to kill me at this rate, is it? Because the point is that the genes aren't getting along. It's all-out war on the molecular level, and my body's the battlefield." He trailed off, wrinkling his nose. "Oh, that did sound a bit poetic, didn't it?" He changed the subject. "Is this a Kintzer Capsule? It is, isn't it. I met her once, Kintzer, back in the other universe. Bit of an odd bird. Excellent hair, though. Gave me a brilliant bottle of hair gel..."

Despite how exhausted and worried she was, Rose bit her lip to keep from smiling at his stupid, painfully familiar rambling.

Grinnald's expression lit up enthusiastically. "I'd thought it might be something like that, but the tests- Oh, but this is brilliant. New terrain, totally unexplored…" he did, at this point, make a rather impressive effort to sober his expression. "Well, seeing as you seem to know the problem, do you have any recommendations as to a solution?" he asked a bit more calmly.

Rose's heart sunk as the Doctor's expression melted slowly into reservation. "Not at this time… no."

Grinnald nodded slowly. "Then we'll be working on that. Don't you worry." He glanced at his clipboard a moment, making a note. "We'd like to get you eating if we can. We're going to try ice chips in a little while, and if you keep that down, we can go from there. As for the sanitation field, I'd like to keep it up for the time being, until we get definitive results about your immune system, but I suppose we can allow Dr. Tyler to breach the field."

He took off his glasses. "Right, unless you have any questions, it looks like everything here is settled for the time being. I'll probably be back with questions for you, Mr. Smith, but for now, get some rest." He waited for a moment, but when it became apparent that no questions were forthcoming, he walked out with the orderlies, leaving the Doctor and Rose alone.

The Doctor looked over at Rose, keeping his breathing slow to minimize discomfort. He was unsure of where they stood right now. Despite his reservations he reached out to take her hand again, but found he couldn't break past the field. He bit the inside of his cheek and let his hand drop. Truth be told, he was afraid. He'd just started existing. He didn't want to die.

She saw the movement and reached through the field from her side, closing her fingers around his again and rubbed her thumb over his hand. "You'll be fine," she told him, like it was forbidden to even think about the alternative. "I'll- I'll figure something out to give your cells an extra push. Everythin' will be right as rain."

He gripped her hand, nodding a little, not meeting her gaze. Why did she care? She'd been dying to get rid of him before, he'd seen it all over her face every time she'd looked at him. He didn't want to die, but on the same token... He didn't let himself finish the thought.

"I'm serious. An' don't expect me to do it on my own, you have to put forth the effort to hang on just a little while longer." The beeping of the heart monitor somehow hurt less when he was conscious. "Torchwood has no bloody clue what they're doing. They don't have any idea what the crack is. They need an expert, so you need to get better soon." She gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

Ah. There it was, the explanation. She was worried about Tony. It made sense, but despite his efforts not to, he'd had just a little hope that maybe she did care about him, and it hurt as it was ripped away again. He let his hand go slack in hers, pulling away on the premise of scratching an itch, and not reaching out again.

She felt almost hurt when he dropped her hand, until she remembered she had no right to be. "How're you feeling?" she asked quietly, leaning back in the chair and providing some space between them.

He almost said 'fine', but given the circumstances that would be beyond childish. "Sore. Tired," he said, his voice still rough. He looked over at her, having firmed up his expression enough to meet her gaze. "What about you?"

Rose offered him a weak smile. "Better, now that you're awake." She chewed on the pad of her finger, biting a strip of skin away. "I'm sorry. For everythin'. I know it wasn't fair."

His eyebrows furrowed as he tried to figure out what was going on in her mind. He shook his head a little at her apology. "You were right," he said quietly. "I'm not him, and I never will be."

She blinked. "I- I never said that." Not out loud, anyway. "But- I've been treating you pretty much like shit since you came here, and it makes it even more wrong after I-" The cold wind, the wet sand, salt on his new lips, his fists clenched at his sides before coming up her back, like he was afraid she'd fly away, his skinny shoulders she wrapped her arms around, his mouth tasting like everything she'd ever dreamed of. Rose cleared her throat. "Anyway. I'm sorry."

He looked at her quietly for a long time, sorting out what he was going to say. Finally, he gathered as large a lungful as he dared, sighing it out. "We're strangers, and I've imposed myself on your life and caused you pain. I cannot apologize enough for that. When I'm better... I'll be alright making it on my own here." I won't hurt you any longer.

Something else in her fought against what he said. No, she didn't want him to leave. Instead, she blinked rapidly and nodded. "I, um... I gotta call Mum, I promised her I'd tell her when you…" She gestured twitchily and stood.

He watched her stand. "I'm going to get a little sleep," he said, barely above a whisper. He shut his eyes, concentrating on the harsh sting of his lungs to maintain control, and let her walk away.

Rose looked over her shoulder and hesitated for a moment before stepping out of the room. Everything was so wrong, and it was all her fault. She quickly sped-dialed her mum, steadying her voice beforehand.

Jackie picked up immediately. "Rose? Rose is that you? How is he? Is 'e awake? Oh, god, he's not... is he?" she said all in one breath, gripping the phone nervously.

"No, no, he's- he's awake now, Mum. An' talking." She heard her mum sigh in relief. "The doctors say they can't do anything, we just have to wait."

"Alright... Well at least he's awake... How's 'e doing?" She waved Pete off as he walked into the room, mouthing that it was Rose and motioning for him to wait a moment. "How are you doing?"

She drummed her fingers on the cold metal of the phone. "He's... okay. Really weak, but lucid. I'm just glad he's awake, I didn't think he'd wake up at all." She sucked on her lip. "I'm gonna try and find some help. There's gotta be a way that could help him somehow."

"I'm sure you'll find something," Jackie said, pushing a hand through her hair. "And you didn't answer my other question. Are you alright, Rose? I'm worried about you."

I feel like shit. He's dying and I meant to make him feel better but I think I just made it worse. "I said I'm fine, relieved that he's awake. For now, I'm just grateful for that small miracle."

Jackie pulled the phone away from her ear to give her something to stare at disbelievingly for a moment. Then she put it back and sighed. "Alright. If you say so. Keep me updated, an' let me or Pete know if you need anything. An' call Jack and Jake! My phone's been ringin' off the 'ook. They say you aren't returnin' their messages."

"You too. With Tony and the crack, I mean." She rubbed at her eye before hanging up, deciding not to respond to the bit about the phone calls. She wouldn't know what to say. Well, where the hell am I supposed to start now?

He was walking with Rose along the beach. The wind was cold, but neither of them minded. The TARDIS wasn't parked too far away, anyway. Their hands were linked between them, her smaller fingers interlaced with his long ones. She was laughing, beautiful creases forming around the wide curve of her mouth, their hands swinging, her head leaning to rest on his shoulder. He looked down at their footprints in the sand, and frowned. Three sets of footprints, not two.

He looked back up at himself and Rose, and then stopped walking. Himself and Rose. How could he be watching himself? His stomach dropped, and he watched as Rose looked back over the Doctor's shoulder at him, still laughing, though now she was mocking him. "Look at him, isn't it pathetic? Sickly and weak." The Doctor smirked, turning to look at him as well. "I'm ashamed to even call him my double." Rose laughed more at that, sneering at him for a moment before turning to the Doctor, eyes sparkling merrily. "Let's go, alright?"

He watched as they walked towards the TARDIS, and felt horror building. He started to run after them. "No! No, don't leave me here!" he shouted even as the door shut and the box started to fade. "Don't! Don't leave me! I don't want to be alone!" He made a dive for the spot where the TARDIS had been, but it was gone. He fell to his knees in the cold sand. "Don't leave me here alone..."

Rose half-heartedly flipped through a magazine while the Doctor slept. They'd passed the thirty-six hour mark, and she still hadn't gone home. Grinnald's tests had been returned, and he'd confirmed that the Doctor's immune system was not the issue. As a result, the Doctor was finally 'free' (as he put it) of the pod, and relaxing in a much more comfortable- or, at least, spacious- hospital bed.

She looked up, however, as he started crying out in his sleep, the beeping of his heart monitor picking up speed. "No... all alone... Don' leave me here alone!..." he whimpered, coughing a little.

She set the magazine aside and took his hand. "It's okay, it's okay, it's just a dream," she murmured, wiping the hair off his sweaty forehead. Burning up again. She pressed the call button and tried not to yell. "Could you send someone down here, please? His temperature's spiked." Rose hoped it didn't mean his body was finally fizzling out. "Calm down, wake up, it's okay."

He dug his hands into the sand, tears pouring down his face. The water washed up over his hands, but it was dark and warm, and dyed his hands red. He looked up in surprise as a wave overcame him, and suddenly he was being pulled out to sea, the taste of blood filling his mouth. He went under, struggling to surface again, when something grabbed his hand, pulling him down…

He started awake, letting out a yell of panic and pulling his hand away from whatever was holding it, trying to get his breathing back under control, adrenaline coursing, his body shaking. He was cold. He tried to run a diagnostic, figure out what was wrong, but something was muddling his mind-

"It's Rose. I'm here," she whispered. He startled awake, gasping like he'd been drowning. She put a hand to his face, trying to give him something to hold onto to wake up fully. "See? You're alright, you're okay." His fever was going up even as she touched him. "Calm down, it wasn't real, whatever you saw. You're safe."

He heard her voice, felt her hand, and grasped at it desperately. "Don't leave me. Please, please don't leave me," he begged hoarsely, his eyes finding her face a moment later. His own were wild with panic, his heart racing. He shivered involuntarily, still fighting for breath.

"I'm not," she says firmly, calmly. "I'm stayin' right here." She wasn't sure if he was he lucid, or was he talking feverishly now. The Doctor's eyes, so wide and vulnerable, shook her, but she didn't let it show. The doctors and nurses ran in as he moaned. "He started to have a nightmare, or something- when I felt him, he was burning."

He struggled to focus, but he couldn't concentrate. The room was a blur of lights and faces, sometimes snapping into focus for second before slipping away. Sounds echoed in his ears, but he heard Rose, could feel her hand in his. He closed his eyes for a moment as he started coughing again, but it settled after a moment.

Grinnald moved quickly forward to check the monitors. "His temperature's rising quickly," he confirmed, moving quickly to a drawer and starting to prepare an injection. "We can't waste time transferring him to the pod. Hold him down," he said to one of the orderlies as the Doctor started thrashing slightly on the bed, trying to kick the covers away. A few seconds later he injected a drug into the IV, setting it aside and moving to look at the monitor, counting under his breath quietly. He hit forty, and the spike started to slow. He nodded slightly.

Rose let out the breath she had been holding a little. "What was happening? How'd you manage to stop it?" She chewed on her finger again and the salty bitterness of blood bloomed over her tongue.

He looked over at her, shaking his head. "I'm sorry. I don't know. We didn't have time to get him into the pod, so we gave him Ibuprofen to lower the fever. It's his fight right now. There is good news, though. His breathing is stronger. It looks like his lungs are healing."

She nodded, looking back to the Doctor's limbs that were gradually slowing their fight against whatever demons he was screaming at. "You think he'll be awake anytime soon?" she asked, her voice level.

"I know very little right now," Grinnald said with a sad smile. "But I would imagine the fever is the problem right now, and that's going down... It shouldn't be too long."

Rose stared at the man in the bed for a few more moments before making her decision. "I'm goin' out. Call me, soon as anything changes." For a moment she wondered if she should say goodbye, squeeze his hand one final time, maybe even kiss his hot stubbly cheek. But she thought better of it and strode out of the hospital room with purpose.

Walking out of the hospital building, Rose glanced at her phone for the latest calls. No record of the mysterious voice. Figured. Okay, what to do, what to do. Maybe she could use the dimensional cannon, not cross to his universe necessarily, just manage to send a message. She climbed into her car and turned the ignition. I've got to start somewhere, she thought as she peeled out in the direction of Torchwood, London.

Jack Harkness sat at his desk in the Torchwood hub, feet up next to his computer, flipping through case files and reaching over to add a note to his chart. He looked up as he heard the hub door open. "Hello?"

"Jack." Rose said stiffly as she strode across the room. "I need your help."

He straightened, took his feet off the desk. "Rose. Where have you been? I've been trying to call-"

"Where's th'dimension cannon? Is it still on base?"

"Rose, " he said, surprised, walking over. "Does this have something to do with the Doctor? I got the briefing- You're not jumping again, are you? No, wait, screw that. You're not jumping again. Period. "

"You think I don't already know that? That I literally can't?" she snapped. "No, no, m'not. But I need it to- I just need it, alright?"

"What for?" he asked, tucking his hands into his pockets. But something in her face told him she wasn't going to jump. "The cannon… it'll need some work."

"Where?" she said shortly, hands clenching and unclenching.

"Just a moment…" He started booting up another computer, accessing to the central data storage.

Rose crossed her arms. "This working is going to depend on a lot of things. The stability in this universe.. in his... We can't do anything that's going to threaten stability. Not again."

He nodded. "Okay. As long as you understand that." He entered a few key codes and a panel in the wall slid back, revealing a carefully concealed room. In twelve outcoves around the room made up the cannon. The large space in the center functioned as the barrel.

Rose strode over to the control panel, running her hands over the wires and dials, corroded and melted. She ran a finger over a shoddy weld in the metal they'd made last minute, a vitex bottlecap for one of the knobs when the original had overheated and melted right before one of the last jumps. They'd needed to make adjustments and repairs between every jump, and now that the universe was saved, the stars back and walls shut, no one had bothered to maintain it. Rose almost felt guilty. That had been her job.

Jack was right, it would need a lot of work.

"Rose," Jack said again, softly, bursting her moment of thought. "Most everyone else is taking care of the mess from the last few days or have gone home. But I'll help, whatever you're doing. But I have to know what we're trying to fix."

Rose lifted her head and looked Jack hard in the eyes. He was afraid of her. It wasn't first time.

Incidentally, it was also one of the many things he loved about her.

"I need to get it up an' ready for communication," she told him evenly. "I need t'talk to the Doctor."

Tireless hours passed as Rose typed in exact coding digit by digit and rewired so many circuits that her fingers became striped with cuts and burns. It was working backwards, so that the cannon would work through the rift rather than the (now non-existent) gaps of the universe and transport sound and image rather than people. She screamed internally every time another wire short-circuited, but only took another spare one to implement again. She barely even knew they were making progress or not. His pale feverish face just lurked in her mind's eye, spurring her forward. There was likely impossible. It was also one of their only options.

A few hours later Jack slid his way out of the crawl space behind the machine. "I think that's it," he says, wiping the sweat off his forehead and pushing one of his rolled-up sleeves a little farther up his arm. "Either it works now... or.." He shrugs. "If it's right, we should be able to hack directly into the TARDIS display." He looked over at Rose. She was as driven now as she had been all those months when they were first developing this thing. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Yes," Rose answered simply. She didn't want to see him, didn't want to talk to him. "I'm ready. Put us through."

He nodded, walking over to the control panel and making room for Rose as he started entering coordinates into the main computer. A few seconds later an image of the TARDIS control room crackled into view on the console's screen. Movement flickered briefly in the corner.

"Doctor!" Rose yelled. She'd barely had time to say his name before the connection turned to white noise. "Fuck!" she snarled, banging the screen in frustration. She'd not even seen him. "C'mon, help us input again, further ahead in the time stream," she ordered Jack, already stooping and coiling several wires, jaw set.

It took over half an hour to reestablish any sort of connection. The picture was clearer this time, and for several glorious seconds, Rose found herself staring at the Doctor's… back. "Doctor!" she yelled again, almost overwhelmed that it had worked. But something was wrong. She still couldn't hear him. Why couldn't he just bloody turn around? "Doctor!" she called, before the picture collapsed in a fuzz of white noise.

"Oh, for-" Rose rubbed her forehead with the back of her tarnished hand before ripping open the panel beneath the screen. "Bloody… audio… Jack, get me in again."

"Already on it, just need to find a gap in the timeline…" The screen fizzled, back to the control room. And on the right of the screen was…

"Doctor!" Jack called. No response. He cursed quietly.

"'Ang on," Rose said from the floor, crying out victoriously as she found the bent wire disrupting the audio and twisted it.

Jack tried again. "Doctor, can you hear me?"

The Doctor's head snapped up, and he looked at the screen with confusion. There was a glare of light from the sonic, and the picture came into clearer focus. The Doctor's eyes narrowed, bemused.

"Jack? Is that you?"