AN: Ah you brilliant BRILLIANT people! 11 reviews? I got 11 reviews for the last chapter - have I ever said how much I love you brilliant people! lol...and I managed to keep my promise and I have the new chapter up for you...well, now seeing as you're reading it. Now you get to enjoy the new chapter and I get to go off and enjoy my birthday. It's a win-win situation. Well, as I always say, on with the story...

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There was a noise…no, noises; multiple, not singular, he realised with certainty. A single noise could never sound so meshed.

He recognised the noises. Quite simple to if he listened; the shuffling of feet, the murmur of voices talking, fingers tapping nervously, the sound of breathing – it took a moment for him to realise that it was his own breathing, ragged and harsh…but why was that?

He couldn't remember. His head hurt too much.

Damn noises!

There were other noises, those that he could hear in his head, those that should not be in his head. Loud noises, demanding noises; noises he wanted to shove in a box and pretend he never heard them in the first place.

It sounded like screaming…only there was no vocal chords attached to this screaming. It was sound of a mind screaming, it was detached and loud and it tried to tear into his mind with the pitch, but it was not near, he realised. It was screaming from a distance, from far away from where he was – where was he? He couldn't remember.

He tried to focus on the sound; it was not a random scream, not a jumbled mess of nonsense, as he had first believed it to be. It was a language – a language he recognised and it took his mind a moment to remember what language it was but once he did, he realised that the voice was screaming out mentally in search of someone.

He was not that someone.

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Rose watched as the Doctor's face consorted in pain. He groaned in his unconscious slumber and she reached forward, placing a gentle hand on his forehead, trying to smooth out the lines of irritation that had formed there.

It was warm, she realised frowning, too warm.

Rose stood up, went over to the sink nearby and turned the tap. She listened to the sound of the water slapped against the metal of the sink and closed her eyes.

This day had been too long…much too long. She could barely remember the last time she had slept – being unconscious didn't count; being unconscious never counts – and if she would ever get the chance of sleeping properly again without something – she looked towards the Doctor, or someone – being in danger.

She reached forward for a cloth and wet in partially before she returned to the Doctor's side and pressed the cool cloth against his heated forehead.

"Hey, it's okay." She whispered reassuringly as he let out another groan but he was couldn't hear her. And she wondered if he ever would again. She wished she didn't have this doubt. He had to wake up, but it didn't make any sense as to why he had not done so already. It had been hours.

The sound of Mickey's approaching footsteps made her head shoot up and within seconds he was at the doorway, a look of concern cast towards Rose and the still unconscious Doctor. "How is he?"

Rose sighed, "He's burning up again." She replied, smoothing out the creases of the wet cloth, "Not as bad as the last time; when we were at the house, but it's still much higher than it should be."

"Should we be…like concerned about his brain?" Rose frowned, "I mean, when I had a fever-"

Rose's eyes widened, "When did you get a fever? I don't remember you ever having a fever."

Mickey frowned and nodded towards the Doctor, "You were gone off with him at the time." He stuck his hand in his jean pockets, "Back when he looked different."

Rose nodded, her mind thinking back to the old Doctor for a moment. He had changed before, he had been ill afterwards, kind of like he was now…that didn't mean he would regenerate again would it?

"You could've called," She pointed out, "I could've came back and helped you. He wouldn't have minded…" She added as an after thought, "Much."

"Rose, you were off travelling the world. I was feeling a little ill, it was no big deal." He looked awkwardly towards the ground, feeling slightly embarrassed at admitting it out loud, "Plus, I did try to ring you but you never answered."

"Oh…" Guilt pooled in her stomach, "I'm sorry." She genuinely was.

"It's no big deal." He said, still avoiding her eyes. The guilt grew, "Anyway, when I had a fever, they stuck me in a bathtub of ice cubes. I was barely conscious for most of it but I remember being so cold."

"Who wouldn't be?" Rose looked down at the Doctor, removed the cloth and felt at his forehead with the back of her hand, "I think it's okay at the moment, but if it gets any worse then I think we might have to."

"Right." He raised a thumb and pointed down the hall with it, "I'll just go get the ice then in case it's needed." He exited the room, and she could hear him stop and take a few steps back. His head appeared at the door, "Uh, where's the kitchen?"

Rose smiled, "Just go down off to your right, take the second left and you'll see a picture of a banana. It's the room right next to it."

"A banana?"

Rose laughed, smiling at the oddness of the Doctor to stick up a banana beside the kitchen because he kept getting lost in his hunt for a snack during what served as midnight in the Tardis, "Yeah, a banana."

"Right." Mickey gave a quick nod, and promptly left.

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The screaming had stopped.

His head still ached and he could feel himself letting out a moan every so often. He didn't mean to, but it was natural, instinctive, automatic. His mind would register pain and his body would react to it.

He also noticed that he couldn't wake up, not yet, and he didn't know why. He wanted to open his eyes but every time he tried to, something stopped him, a weight pressing him down. It didn't have a physical shape and he believed it to be his mind, holding him back, letting his body heal…at least he hoped it was his mind. He couldn't think of any other reason as to why…unless…

Oh Rassilion, if he was sick then that might explain it. He never did well with being sick, and in fact he rarely was ever sick. The only time he could remember being ill was after regenerating but his body's cells had been pulled apart and reformed in a brand new package and that was sure to mess people up for a while; it was expected to do so in fact, with the organs still forming, the mind making new connections, the body been pulled into something different – of course, it would make him ill, and he couldn't do all that 'rearranging' whilst conscious. It would be too painful.

This wasn't him regenerating though…was it? He would usually have the memory of regenerating, wouldn't he? And there was the simple fact that his brain didn't have such an active commentary whilst he was recovering from regenerating so it had to be something else.

No, it was definitely something else.

His body had been weakened; or was it his mind…it must be his mind. He would remember bodily injuries…but he could recall being trapped where no one could hear him. He had been without a body…he was just his mind, but now he was back in his body but he couldn't get his mind to co-operate with his body. It was still healing the connection from being broken for so long – a side effect of possession. His body had been possessed while his soul – his mind a dominant part of that – had been expelled from his body, tied to it by a thin string of connectivity. He could not stray far from his body, but it took a lot of energy to make himself seen to others.

Rose had seen him.

Rose had saved him.

He remembered seeing her do so…of course she would save him.

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Rose sighed in relief as she felt his forehead again. His fever had gone down. It was still a little higher in temperature than usual for him, but it was much lower than it had been before and she was grateful for that small fact.

He was still unconscious though and that worried her. She was naturally protective of him; they had to look out for each other with their dangerous lifestyles and he had been possessed for god knows how long and she had been oblivious to that fact…so much for protecting him.

She looked at his pale features and felt a twinge of guilt. This was her fault…she realised.

"I'm sorry." She whispered to him, but he made no movement in response, "I'm so so sorry."

He remained silent. And it almost broke her heart.

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His head was still pained. There was no exact word for it, but there was pain…of a sort. It wasn't a conscious pain and he was sure once he was fully responsive, awake and alert that he would be feeling the full effects of the pain, but the pain he was feeling right now was fuzzy.

Yes, very very fuzzy.

His body was no longer unresponsive, but was now slow and lethargic. So far he had managed to make use of moving a finger…or two…he wasn't sure of the exact number in his semi-conscious state, but he was working his way up to being able to open his eyelids.

Things would be much easier once he could get a full view of things in colour and he had learned from experience that a range of colour in ones vision was an improvement overt the darkness of ones mind.

He felt a finger twitch, and his mind did jumping jack in delight to it. Although he wouldn't mind jumping at some point, it had been ages since he had jumped in any form…he found he oddly missed jumping. He may not have done it much before but as soon as he could do so; he would jump as high as he could.

Nothing more happened for a short while…

He tried to move his finger again and he found that his whole hand move the smallest of movements. And then he could twitch his nose. And wiggled his toes. And the ability to move delighted him before belief and he knew he would cherish these moments…well, until he found something else to cherish if he was honest, but for a small portion of his lifetime – a very small portion – he would spend cherishing the ability to once again be able to move.

He twitched his nose again in preparation for the eyes and then…his eyes fluttered. And closed. And fluttered again. And opened.

Colour greeted his vision like a ticker tape parade, bright and beautiful and bold. His mouth twitched as he made to smile, but he still found it difficult to do so.

A flash of blonde greeted him and he found that staring down at him was the face of Rose Tyler, her blonde hair cascading down the sides of her face as she stared down in disbelief and delight.

He smiled, and it was easy this time.

"Hello." He croaked – he was croaking? He really needed a drink.

"Hi." Her smiled lit up the room and the colour of his surroundings shone ten times brighter because of her smile.

The memories hit him, full and fast, and he had to blink to keep up with the pain that echoed with them. He blinked, "You figured it out…" He smiled at her, "I knew you would. I wanted to tell you before, but there wasn't time."

"I know." Her face was sad and happy all at the same time, "I almost didn't remember. I almost lost you."

"But you didn't." He moved to sit up, and brought a hand to his head. Right on cue – full on headache! "Blimey!" He blinked a few times, "Oh my head!

"What is it?" A hand rested against his upper arm, "What's wrong?"

"Headache…whoa!" He blew out a deep breath before sucking one back in through his teeth, "Forgot how painful a post possession headache can be."

"Why didn't you have one earlier?"

"He was still attached to the connection. He's gone now. The only person in this body is me." He flashed her a smile, "I prefer it that way."

Rose let out a breathy laugh, "Me too!" She grinned at him and he returned it full blast.

He stood up and hugged her, lifting her up and spinning her round. She laughed lightly in his ear, "I've missed you Rose Tyler."

"I missed you too." She admitted once her feet were back on solid ground, "Don't do that to me again though. I thought you were dead for a while there."

"I'm sorry." He said, his face solemn, He didn't want her to worry like that again. Grief was an emotion that destroyed people; he never wanted that her to feel that again.

"It's okay. It wasn't your fault."

"I'm still sorry." She nodded and he closed his eyes for a moment, letting the moment of tension pass, "You know what I want to do?" Rose looked at him curiously; "Jump!" She raised an eyebrow in response.

He smiled at her before he put his two feet apart, bent down and sprang upward before he landed once again on solid ground. Enjoying it so much the first time he jumped again. And a third time for good measure.

"What are you doing?" Rose cautiously asked, in a mixture of curiosity and amusement.

"I told you! Jumping!" He beamed at her, "Rose Tyler, you have no idea how good it feels to be able to jump again." He winked at her and watched her cheeks tinge red, "Ah, brilliant! Jumping is for the springy and Rose, I for one, want to embrace the springy-ness of life." His grin widened, "I love jumping."

"It's really you, isn't it?" She asked after a moment of silence.

He gently grabbed her hands, his face soft and serious as he moved to meet her eye level, "I am definitely me." He exclaimed softly, "And it's all thanks to you." He brought one of her hands up to his mouth and placed a soft kiss on it, "You saved me. Thank you." He said genuinely.

"No problem."

To be continued...

AN: And the Doctor is back in the picture, now who's truly happy? Well...I'm pretty sure everyone who's reading this fic seeing as we've been waiting since the first chapter to actually have the return of the Doctor. lol...I was so tempted to have something else go wrong but I managed to resist. Well, review if you want to...