A/N: Sorry for the delay. The end of the last chapter kinda turned out differently then I had intended. They were only supposed to have a little row. Oops. So anyway my carefully planned outline had to be scratched. Well some of it. All thanks to Rose and her stupid comment. And then I ended up rewriting this chapter three times. (I kept changing the POV.) But it is finally done so enjoy.

Disclaimer: Still hoping to find a letter in the mail from the BBC saying that I now own Doctor Who.

Rose's stomach continued to heave long after it had expelled all it's contents. Periodically she would get a few moments of relief, allowing her to lie on the cold bathroom floor and stare at the ceiling. These brief minutes of respite would end all too quickly as another wave of nausea hit her. As she laid her head back for what felt like the fiftieth time, Rose prayed that this time had been the last. Her stomach muscles ached with every intake of breath and her throat felt raw as her stomach acid ate away it's lining. She realized that even if she had to throw up again it would have to be right where she lay because she no longer had the strength to hold herself up.

For some time she floated somewhere between consciousness and sleep and a new sensation formed in the pit of her stomach: guilt. She had been angry and frustrated. In a vain attempt to deflect her fears she had focused all her pain onto him. Realization flooded her mind; she had wanted to hurt him. New tears flowed down her face. Gradually she gathered her feet beneath her and with the help of the counter she pulled herself up.

A strange woman stared back at her through the mirror. Dark circles around the eyes stood out against sickly pale skin. Her hair hung limp and lifeless around a sunken face. Rose reached up to trace the angry, purple, thumb-shaped, bruise on her cheek. A sudden wave of dizziness overcame her legs crumpled beneath her. She grappled at the counter in an attempt to stay upright but lost her grip, bringing an intricate soap dish crashing to the floor with her.

As she sobbed dry tears in a crumpled heap on the floor a voice called from beyond the door.

"Rose?"

The voice was bare, lacking the layers that disguised his emotions. Fear, guilt, pain and something slippery, not quite tangible radiated in the sound of that single word.

"Doctor?" she cried back from cracked lips.

She heard a buzzing noise and then a click as the door unlocked. As he stared at her lying in a heap on the floor Rose realized how wretched and weak she must look. She tried to shift herself upright into a sitting position but collapsed again. The Doctor knelt beside her and hesitantly, almost like he was afraid to touch her, wrapped his arms around her frail body and lifted her up. She hung limply, like a rag doll in his grasp, as he carried her into the bedroom. Setting her down carefully he rested on the bed beside her and sat there, directly facing her. She watched as his gaze floated down from her eyes and rested on her bruised cheek.

The guilt that she felt was a mere echo compared to the well of self-loathing that now reflected in his deep brown eyes. As he brought his hand close to her face she flinched instinctively and he looked away, unwilling to let her see the expression in his eyes. Standing up, he walked over to the dresser, opened the dresser and pulled out a t-shirt and a pair of fuzzy pants. He brought them over to her, setting them on the bed along with her watch and the single earring.

He stood outside the door while she changed. She struggled with the simple task of changing. One of these days, she thought to herself, I'll actually change into normal clothes. Sticking the earring through her earlobe was difficult to do without a mirror but walking back into the bathroom was arduous just thinking about it.

"You can come back in," she called out to the Doctor.

Upon re-entering, he grabbed a pillow and the extra blanket and curled up on the floor facing away from Rose. Feeling very small, and alone in the king sized bed, Rose drifted into a fitful sleep. It was not the cold hard floor that kept the Doctor from sleep that long night; it was the memory of his fingers pressing against Rose's white skin and the fear in her eyes as she pulled away from his touch.

DWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWD

Sunlight filtered in through the fake window, basking Rose's face in light and causing her eyelids to flutter open. She rolled over, moaning, willing herself to return to the sweet nothingness of dreamland. After several minutes Rose gave up on falling back to sleep and rolled herself out of bed. Surprised at how steady she felt on her feet, Rose looked around the room. A disheveled blanket lay empty in the corner. Relief coursed through Rose veins; the Doctor was gone. After what she had said to him last night she needed to gather her thoughts before confronting him with an apology.

She walked over to the dresser. "I don't suppose you could supply me with some actual clothes?" she inquired while opening the drawer. She was pleasantly surprised to find an entire outfit inside including blue jeans, an orange hoodie and matching lingerie (pink of course). "I like you," she said to the dresser while slipping the clothes on. "Maybe I could sneak you into the TARDIS. What do I do with these pajamas?"

As if on command the bottom drawer opened which Rose placed her borrowed nightclothes in and then shut again. A metallic voice startled Rose. "Thank you. Your clothing has been recycled."

"You're welcome," muttered Rose. New clothes and a shower did much to improve Rose's mood. Actually she felt better than she had in days. No dizziness or nausea or headache, although, her arm had begun to shake again. That's odd, she thought, I wasn't shaking when I was in the hospital.

She was surprised to find that both the broken soap dish and the shattered picture frame had been cleaned up and her mobile lay undamaged on the table beside the bed. Trying not to look at the ugly purple mark on her cheek, Rose tied her hair into a loose knot on the top of her head. She was ready to face the day.

The Paxton home was a modest size and very much resembled a house from the 21st century. Rose had been expecting to see high tech gadgets coming out of the walls or something. Instead she found normal things such as plants (okay, slightly odd plants that followed her movements) and pictures (which happened to call out greetings to her as she moved past.)

A door standing slightly ajar caught her interest and she peeked her head around. Geoffrey Paxton lifted his head up from the book he was reading and smiled, motioning her in.

"Good morning, sit down. Have some of my toast," he said gesturing to a plate of toast in front of him. "How are you feeling today?"

Taking a piece of toast she answered, "Better, thank you." She ate in silence, staring at her surrounding. They seemed to be in some sort of study, surrounded by books and various artifacts in glass cases.

"Your husband left early this morning. He said he had to stop off at home or something before heading to work."

Rose nodded.

"Couples have rows all the time, Rose. Glenda and I have had some doozies. We always made up again. You two will as well," he assured her.

She blushed "You heard that?"

"Rose, the neighbors down the street heard it," he smiled, turning back to his book.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"It's okay," he said. "He didn't want to leave this morning. Kept on coming up with excuses to go back and check up on you."

Rose got up and moved around the room, admiring the many artifacts on display. "What is all of this stuff?" she asked.

His face brightened with enthusiasm. "Oh just stuff I've collected from all over the universe. Little bits of ancient civilizations. It is a bit of a hobby it's a bit silly. Glenda calls it junk."

Pausing to stare at what resembled a Gameboy, Rose remarked, "I think it's amazing. Imagine all the history in one room."

Geoffrey brightened, "That's what I think. Do you want to see my most valuable artifact?"

"Sure."

Geoffrey crossed over to the bookcase and pulled down a metal box. He punched some symbols into a keypad and the lid opened. Rose peered inside.

A pink stone, about the size of a baseball, rested on a soft velvet cushion. Resembling quartz, the edges were rough and angular. Rose couldn't help but feel a little bit disappointed as she gazed at the junk of rock.

Trying to sound amazed and awed, she asked, "What is it?"

"Kluartz," he answered.

"Oh."

"Its from on old civilization on the other side of the galaxy," he explained. "They used it as a power source."

"Wow," Rose said, slightly intrigued. She reached a hand into the box.

"Don't touch it," he warned.

Withdrawing her hand, she asked "Is it dangerous?"

"No, but long term exposure can have some adverse effects on humans."

"How does it work?"

"Well," he said excitedly, "I'm not sure exactly but the records I've uncovered says that it captures life energy. See normally it wouldn't be found in its raw form like this. The Kaisinians used to cut it up and set it in jewelry and the people would wear it. Then in the instant before a Kaisinian died the stone would soak up his or her life force. A whole civilization fueled on the life of its people. Brilliant, eh?"

"Yah," she replied.

Geoffrey glanced at his watch. "Oh my, look at the time. I better go to work." He closed the lid and placed it back on the shelf.

"Could I catch a ride with you? I need to talk to John."

Dr. Paxton smiled. "Of course."

DWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWD

Dr. Paxton led Rose to the Doctor's office. "I'm pretty sure he's in a lecture right now," he said. "But he should be back soon. I'll just unlock the door so you can wait for him."

"Thank-you."

"No problem. He's a good man, Rose, and he loves you very much."

She smiled as the older man left. If only that were true, she thought.

Settling down in a swivel chair, Rose surveyed the small office. Considering he had only been working here for two days, the Doctor his desk had filled up with papers. Post-it notes were stuck randomly to the walls. Rose chuckled as she saw Bananas are good scrawled on one. Spinning around in the chair, Rose noticed a bulletin board behind her and was shocked to see no less than four pictures of herself pinned to it. Each was a snapshot taken after a harrowing adventure.

"Rose?"

She snapped her head over to the door to see the Doctor standing in the entrance.

"Why are you here?" he asked, "Is something wrong?"

"No," she answered. "I just couldn't stay at the Paxton's."

He grimaced, "I understand. I had a nice loooong chat with Glenda this morning. But I don't want to leave you all day on your own. How are you feeling? You look a bit pale. Do you have a fever?" He started to reach his hand towards her forehead but stopped himself, his eyes lingering on her bruised cheek.

"I'm fine."

He nodded. They stared at each other in silence. Both unsure of how to say what was on his or her mind.

The Doctor finally spoke, looking at the floor he said, "Rose, about last night, I…I'm so…"

He didn't get to finish his words. A loud screech emitted through the walls. The floor beneath them began to shake. The Doctor jumped forward, wrapping his arms around Rose he pushed her to the floor beneath him as the ceiling caved in and they were engulfed in darkness.

A/N: Oh I'm mean. But cliffies are just so wonderful. I have slightly bad news for you loyal readers. My mother phoned me this morning and announced that she was coming to stay with me for a week. She arrives tommorow (thanks for the notice mum). Anyway she can be very distracting to my creative genius so the next few updates will be slow. Sorry.

Plz Review.