A/N: Happy Thursday, folks! Busy week this time around, a bit stressful too. So if I haven't responded to your review yet, I will as soon as I finish posting this chapter! For that anonymous reviewer I have, you crack me UP! I can't respond to you through review replies but I very much appreciate every review you leave, no matter how long they get, lol! Thank you also to those readers who are setting the fic on alert or making it a favorite, I love it! Hope you enjoy this chapter. Also, since a few readers were asking, after this chapter there are only eight chapters left before it's complete! Enjoy!

Chapter Thirty-Six – A Kiss Unnoticed:

She came awake slowly, her eyes fluttering open.

To the side, gathering several bloodstained gauze pads and tissues across a familiar dresser, the Doctor worked meticulously and silently, a heavy drag to his shoulders.

She was in her bedroom on the TARDIS, in her bed, the blanket pulled up to her breast. Swallowing, her mouth dry and feeling cottony, she merely watched the Doctor for a long moment, his back to her as he tossed the pile of used items into a small wastebasket. His movements were fluid if a bit heavy-handed for the moment, darkness seeming to shadow him. He had removed his suit jacket, clothed in his white button up shirt, the sleeves rolled up over his lean forearms. Before him there were several bottles on her dresser, antiseptic solutions and other items that were unfamiliar to her and unusual at the same time.

The mirror resting on her dresser reflected him and he seemed weary, his face drawn tiredly. A moment later his eyes darted upward, catching on her through the mirror and he merely gazed at her for a long moment, exhaling silently.

"Are you all right?" she asked him quietly, her voice rasping out hoarsely.

His eyes left her reflection, returning to the items on the dresser. "Am I all right?" he stated softly, a small smile curling the corners of his lips. And he turned toward her finally, setting the wastebasket aside and then pulling up a chair beside her bed. Seating himself in it with a small sigh he leaned toward her, resting his elbows on his knees and merely staring at her intently. "I'm quite all right, thank you. Can't exactly say the same for you."

She blinked at him and realized suddenly that every single part of her seemed to hurt. She grimaced faintly, her eyes shifting sideways slightly as a light throbbing washed over her almost gently. "W-what happened?" she questioned, her lips parting in surprised pain.

Inhaling deeply, the Doctor propped his chin on his hand, tilting his head at her as she shifted the tiniest bit. "You took a bit of a tumble, Rose. Do you remember?" he asked her quietly, grimacing slightly.

She looked at him for a long moment, hesitant. "Wh…" she whispered and then broke off, blinking rapidly.

His face was sympathetic. "You went through a window. Clear through it. Like a champ, I'll give you that." And his smile wavered even as he attempted to force it.

"That was my dream," she said to him with a curt shake of her head.

His eyes dropped to her bed before him and then he reached out with long fingers, trailing them over her hand. And she didn't feel direct contact with his skin, a barrier between their touch. "No, Rose. It actually happened. You passed out coming into the TARDIS." And he dug his fingers under hers, across the mattress, lifting her hand for her to see.

Her hand was wrapped in slender bandages across the palm and wrist, leaving only her fingers free. Her eyes widened in shock as they trailed down her arm. Panic flashing in her gaze she quickly lifted her other hand to see it bandaged the same way, her limbs beginning to tremble. "W-well, how bad is it?" she asked him frantically.

Shushing her, his hand gently forcing hers back to the bed, he replied, "You're well on your way. I'll need you to take something to speed the healing process. Had you been awake I would have given it to you already. It needs to be ingested or administered intravenously. I reckon you've been stabbed enough for one day." He said it with a bit of cheek to the sentence but his face was unhappy still.

She merely stared at him as his eyes darted to her other hand before returning to the one resting on the bed before him. Then his gaze shifted back to hers and he merely looked at her wearily, sending her a small smile once more.

Breathing in deeply, the air catching halfway, she asked, "The Abzorbaloff?"

The Doctor tilted his head back with a nod. "Took care of it. He carried a small chain around his neck, a crystal. I managed to snap the chain and the crystal shattered when it fell. Just fell apart on the fire escape."

Rose wrinkled her nose in distaste as she swallowed thickly, curling her fingers uncomfortably. And she came to a dead stop, her eyes shifting downward slightly as she became aware of it. "Am…am I naked?"

Eyebrows practically flying clear off his face, the Doctor recoiled from her. Then, composing himself, he rose and darted toward her dresser, snatching up a small bottle of a suspicious green fluid. "I'll need you to take this now that you're awake-"

"Doctor, why am I naked?" she questioned him, stiff.

Winding around to the other side of her and coming to a slow stop, he waved the bottle at her and then uncapped it, motioning for her to sit up. She did so, one of her bandaged hands carefully holding the sheet to her breast. As she shifted she realized she was only partly nude, clothed in her jeans still. She looked up at him but he was quite intently avoiding her eyes, setting the cap aside. "I needed to see your ribs," he answered her shortly. And then, finally meeting her eyes once more, he held out the bottle to her. "I was a perfect gentleman. I promise."

Staring at him keenly, she suddenly pointed a finger at him awkwardly. "You snuck a peek."

He pulled the bottle back, throwing her a disbelieving look. "I did no such thing."

Observing him, flat out staring at him, she suddenly grinned incredulously. "Oh my God, you did!" she cried and she burst out into giggles, throwing her head back in laughter.

With a distasteful curl to his lips, he waited as she continued to giggle, her shoulders shaking until she came to a sudden painful stop with a hiss. As she settled into silence, he sent her a knowing look and seated himself beside her on her mattress, the bed sinking slightly under his weight. "And how did that feel?" he inquired quietly, the bottle held in a limp hand on his lap.

She frowned at him. "You enjoy seeing me suffer."

Sighing wearily, he held out the bottle with the green fluid to her. "Not in the least. But someone is always suffering, Rose. You can't help them all," he stated as if the world's burdens had come to rest on his shoulders. He waited as she took the bottle from him and tossed her head back like a small child.

Hesitantly, she tasted the liquid. It smelled a bit and she wrinkled her nose, pausing in mid gulp but he eyed her firmly.

"All of it."

With an inward groan she stopped breathing and took the contents of the bottle in one solid swig, immediately passing the fluid from her mouth down her throat.

"Excellent," he said to her as she set down the empty bottle in her lap with an expression of exaggerated distaste. Swiping it out of her hand he capped it up and then tossed that into the wastebasket as well. "Give that about eight to twelve hours and it should fix you right up."

"Yes, doctor," she said to him immaturely. And she leaned her hand back behind her to rest on it. Immediately pain swept through it and she gasped, dragging it off the bed and against her chest, biting down.

He reached for her instantly, holding back as she nursed her palms to her breast. "You have to be careful, Rose. I just swabbed those. They need at least eight hours with the solution on them."

She grimaced. "I feel like an invalid," she groaned miserably.

The sympathy was back on his face. "I know. But we're not in a hurry to go anywhere so how about you give those a rest for a bit." And he motioned toward her side gingerly. "Mind if I take a look?"

She stared at him. "A look at what?"

He motioned toward her side once more with a slender finger, his face drawn. "Perfect gentleman, remember?" he reminded her gently. And without waiting for her to respond to that he stood up once more, fishing into his pocket and pulling out his specs before drawing close to her side. And as she continued to stare at him wordlessly he reached a hand out toward her elbow slowly.

Eyeing him suspiciously for a long moment, she hesitated. Then with a roll of her eyes, she pressed her bandaged hands to her chest and lifted her elbow, pursing her lips.

The Doctor fought the small smile that threatened to break over his face, slipping the specs on. Leaning over, he peered under her arm, his dark eyes examining the purple bruising across her pale skin. He had feared she'd cracked ribs when she had crashed into the counter just inside the window. But the worst of the damage had come from the broken glass once she had slid across it. He reached out, poking her ribs gently and she growled at him, her eyes sliding toward him once more.

Was she blushing? She dragged her gaze away from him once more, looking to the side uncomfortably. Under any other circumstance she would have loved the little tingles she received when he studied her intently the way he did then. When he looked at her that way she felt as if there was no one else. This moment, however, she felt the slightest bit awkward, especially in her state of undress.

Why couldn't I at least keep my bloody bra on?

He was frowning gently, sounding absentminded. "I had to remove all articles of clothing. I was uncertain whether your ribs needed to be bound." And he pushed against her side once more, a tender administration, trailing his fingers down each rib slowly, inspecting them.

She glanced at him briefly. "I didn't ask," she said to him, attempting to sound nonchalant.

His smile returned, awareness registering once more. "Yes, you did," he replied to that and his grin was impish, his dark eyes darting toward hers for a small moment. She held his gaze, silent, and the quiet was suddenly very loud, very poignant.

Then, stiffening slightly, he stood up straight once more, slipping his specs off and back into his pocket. "You can put your arm down. They seem fine. The solution will clear away the bruising in a few hours and then you'll be good as new." He nodded, bowing his head.

Staring at him quizzically, Rose lowered her arm at her side once more, holding the sheet to her chest with both bandaged hands.

Glancing over his shoulder, the Doctor moved toward her closet and reached in blindly, settling on a shirt and pulling it from a hanger. She waited, giving him a small smile in thanks, as he handed it to her and then promptly turned his back to allow her a small measure of privacy.

Tilting her head downward but very aware of his presence in the room, she allowed the sheet to fall as she gingerly lifted the shirt and dragged it down over her head. That was the hard part with her hands bound. Careful not to worry the muscles of her hands she took hold of the edges of the shirt with cautious fingers, pulling it down over her shoulders and then down her torso with a small exhalation.

Aware after a moment, the Doctor turned to face her quietly. Sending him a tired smile she shifted across the bed, scooting over a bit. Silently, the Doctor neared once more, hovering beside her thigh. Then, with a sigh of his own he seated himself at her side wearily, elbows resting in his lap.

Grimacing faintly, she leaned toward him and pressed her temple against the hard bone of his shoulder, her eyes closing just as tiredly. His scent drifted from his shirt, from his very skin, and she breathed it in, feeling it lift her chest and fill her completely. She would never forget the scent of him. Had they ever been separated on that beach for the rest of their lives, she would never have allowed this scent to escape her.

"Want to talk?" he asked her faintly, his voice a soft rumble against her ear.

With her eyes shut tightly she heard his tone tremble against her skin. She realized once more that if he did nothing more than speak to her for the little remaining time her human life afforded her, she would still be happy. She would be content with the sound of his voice, with the inflection of his tone as it mirrored his mood. She would be content with all of it. "About what?" she asked almost sleepily then, her hands resting palm up on her thigh and at her side on the mattress.

He hesitated. "About the window. About the glass. About-"

"It was an accident," she replied softly. "I thought the window was open. I was wrong."

He sat silently at her response. But the atmosphere was suddenly loaded with uncertainty as they merely sat together.

What did he want her to say? That the worlds were converging once more around her? That she had seen an open window when in actuality, in this reality, that window had been closed? That she was slowly but surely losing her mind when it came to what was real and what was false? She clenched her eyes tighter, her breath catching slightly as she thought it, as she realized that things just weren't right anymore.

That they hadn't been right for a while now.

Ever so softly, he whispered, "Tell me about the Bad Wolf."

This time her breath tangled and did not release. "W-what?"

Turning his head a bit, his jaw dragging across her hair, he said against her ear, "Tell me about the Bad Wolf. You mentioned it in the flat, after I got you to your feet." And his hand came down upon hers gently, his fingers trailing across her bandaged palm.

She swallowed. "It's nothing," she said.

The Doctor shifted at that, drawing back slightly. "Rose-"

"It's nothing," she said again, her other hand taking hold of his arm, slight pain streaking across her palm with the gesture. Biting down on a small aching breath, she loosened her grip and he returned to her, allowing her to rest against his shoulder once more.

For a long moment they sat silently, his breath floating across her temple, his skin releasing his scent to her. Then he murmured, "I'll wait for you. To tell me what is going on. But I can't wait forever." He paused. "Well, actually, I can but I'd rather not. I would like to fix whatever is going on. We don't need a repeat of this."

She flinched faintly as he ran his fingertips over her palms once more. But breathing steadily now, listening to the sound of his voice and the gentle thrum of it under her ear, she was suddenly tired.

Bad Wolf.

"I'm sleepy," she said against his shirt, frowning delicately.

And when he responded he seemed so very far away then. "Ah yes. I forgot that little side effect."

"Side effect?"

He nodded against the crown of her head. "Yes. The medicine you took. Not the non-drowsy formula." And his chuckle was reassuring as it rumbled against her, as it slowly began to lead her into darkness.

"You…dosed me?" she asked him wearily, not even having enough strength to get sharp with him.

But a moment later she didn't care for his answer as she drifted off against him, feeling for the smallest moment as his arms wound around her waist and held her frame to his comfortingly.

As her breathing evened out and her body fell limp in his embrace, the Doctor waited another few moments still, inhaling her scent. She was slender in his arms, much too thin. When had that happened? Perhaps in between all the running he just hadn't noticed it. But here, in the silence, with her scent trailing up to him, almost suffocating him, he felt her bones as if they jutted out at him. He bent his head against hers, her silken hair brushing his cheek, her chest rising and falling in sleep. And in that small, silent moment he understood once more how much he loved this human girl. How much she meant to him though he would never say it aloud. Even thinking it freely, something in him made him want to rear back and banish the words from his thoughts. But the mere weight of her in his arms, against his very body, made him want to hold her closer, perhaps hold her forever. The entire society of Time Lords would have looked down upon this type of behavior and yet he couldn't make himself care. Perhaps deep inside it had been instilled in him from youth but now, after everything that they had been through and everything she had helped him become, he couldn't understand how one wouldn't fall for Rose. Especially not him. He'd never stood a chance when his hearts had been broken and his eyes had been blue. Now that his eyes were brown, he felt the pain all the more. A different body but the same two hearts.

Turning his head into hers, he buried his face against her hair, feeling something in him so strong that it was almost alien. The feeling swelling inside him, he lifted his hand to her head, brushing away her hair from her cheek. And he gazed at her silently. How strange that one mortal girl had made him better, had made him more than he had been before. Blinking wearily, searching her face in sleep, he curled his fingers around her jaw and neck, shifting her just enough to allow him to press his lips to hers gently. She did not resist nor did she acknowledge the gesture, her breathing still even, her frame still limp. But it was all he was going to permit himself to do then. Something to take with him once he left this room and went back to being the last of his kind and having the Earth on his shoulders.

Pulling away from her mouth he let her head fall limply back to his shoulder, still feeling her lips on his as he tightened them into a firm line. In the middle of his thoughts, his face became stone as he shifted his gaze toward the sweater she had been wearing when she had gone through the window. He had tossed it into the wastebasket upon dragging her to her bedroom and he let his eyes trail across the smears of dried blood soiling it now. Even at the moment his stare detected glinting pieces of glass embedded in the thread.

He was fooling no one but himself if he acted like he didn't recognize the sweater he had disposed of. Rose had worn that same sweater when she had become the Bad Wolf once upon a time.

Next Chapter - Chapter Thirty-Seven: Burn Gold

He smiled faintly at her gestures. "Would you allow me to have a look at your thoughts?"

She stared at him for a moment, stunned into silence at his words. Did he know? Her eyes trailing away for a moment at the implications, she gave it a second's thought. Of course he could look at her thoughts. She would offer them to him even if he hadn't wanted to see them. Everything she was, everything she thought, it would always be open to him. True, she hadn't told him about the visit from the blond girl but she wanted this, this intrusion. Only from him though. There would be no secrets with this. Nothing left to hide.

"Yes," she whispered.