A/N: This is a long time coming. One day, I'd like to go back and clean up the past 12 chapters. Until then, thank you for sticking around despite the long wait and grammatical errors.

"John!" Rose cried, "John, wake up!"

His weight on top of her was crushing her ribs again and forcing her to breathe shallowly. The groan he made vibrated through her chest.

He's still conscious!

Her head was spinning but she mustered the strength to buck her hips up to force him off of her. She couldn't propel him off entirely, but the way he had fallen on top of her the second time allowed her to roll him on his side.

Much easier, she thought as she used the inertia to topple him on his back and onto the grass beside her.

She exhaled, appreciating the fact that she could expand her ribcage again. Pushing herself up, she hovered over him to check for any injuries. There was an angry, red scrape on his forehead and left cheek. Her hands reached for his face and tapped his unmarred cheek lightly. "John?"

His eyes opened into slits and he mumbled something she couldn't understand.

She stooped closer, bending her ear near his lips, "What?"

"You are mad."

She didn't know whether to laugh or frown at this. Before she could say anything else, Cynthia and James were skidding to a stop beside them.

"You two alright?" Cynthia asked, bending and offering a hand to Rose.

Rose took her hand and allowed herself to be pulled off the ground. James crouched and began to assess John. He pulled out a white medical kit and began swabbing the scrapes and cuts on John's face.

"Just bumps and bruises." Rose said, patting the dirt from her trousers, "Will he be alright?"

James looked up at her briefly before focusing on John once more, "I think the van clipped him. I don't know the extent of the damage but from what I can assess, he should be okay. He might have a concussion though."

She nodded and looked around and saw that the crossfire had ceased-everyone else was regrouping on the other side of the road. "What did I miss?" she asked.

"They fried our van. We couldn't go after them when they escaped in the second vehicle," Cynthia said, placing her gun on her hip. "But, they didn't go unscathed. We were able to capture one of them."

"What? Where is it?"

"Unconscious, and barely alive. We're calling for backup. An emergency helicopter should be arriving soon."

The plastic chair was hard and uncomfortable. It made her bum sore after twenty minutes of waiting for U.N.I.T's physicians to dote on her. They performed a standard procedure: checking her blood pressure, her temperature, and flashing a small torch in her eyes. She winced at that part. She could never get used to the sensation of a bright beam of light blasting in her eyeballs. She blinked heavily, trying to adjust to the ambiance lights around her again.

"You're all clear, Tyler," the physician informed her after he put a small bandage on her cheek. The blue sterilization cream they put on it still stung like hell.

"Thanks," she said, "is John in the other room?"

"John?" he asked with furrowed brows before his face lit up with recognition. "Oh, you mean John Smith. Yes, he's just to your right." He pointed, craning around her.

"Is he alright? Can I see him?"

"He'll be alright." He took the stethoscope from his neck and put it aside. "He has a minor concussion but nothing too serious. I believe he might even be awake now. You're free to check on him."

"Thank you."

Rose stood and walked out of the room. The door to her right was only three paces away-not enough time for her to mentally prepare herself. It had been an hour since they had arrived back at headquarters but John was still unconscious when they arrived.

She hadn't seen him since.

The door creaked open and she peered inside. She could see the steady rise and fall of his chest as he lay on a small, medical cot. A thin tube on his wrist connected him to an IV while other white, medical machines beeped softly around him. Green lines bounced steadily on the heart monitor as it etched out his heartbeat-his single heartbeat. White bandages wrapped around his head like a mummy while his cheek and forehead were covered by a small, cotton gauze held by tape.

How quickly our roles have switched, she thought humorlessly.

The sight of the face of her Doctor laying so still and helpless made her heart twinge. It was hard to imagine that this was the face of the man that tore around time and space, planet-hopping, and history jumping. This was the man who was constantly running and roaming the galaxy. But now... he was still as death. Despite the morbid thought, she thought he looked peaceful and yet so vulnerable-exposed to anyone's will and mercy.

It made her uncomfortable.

As she approached, she noticed that there was nowhere else to sit so she opted to stand stiffly by his side and wait. It was the least she could do-he had no one else to be there for him and if she were honest with herself… she wanted to be there as he had done for her. However, her nerves twisted in her gut, unsure of how he would react when he would see her.

She imagined that he wouldn't be too happy that she had run out during the crossfire. Or the fact that she nearly got hit by that other van.

Her foot trapped in anticipation. She crossed her arms while attempting to appear nonchalant by staring at a portrait on the wall.

"Rose?"

Her concentration on the painting was broken. His voice had croaked like a trampled frog and dragged her back to reality.

"Yes?" she asked gently.

"Where am I?"

"Back at U.N.I.T. A physician here patched you up. It was closer than a hospital," she explained, her arms still guarded her chest like a safety blanket.

He made a soft sound at the back of his throat. His face scrunched in pain. "So this is what this feels like?"

"What?"

"A headache," he chuckled softly. He must have seen her confusion because he continued, "Time Lords have something similar but I imagined that the human experience would be different…" He paused and sighed, "I was right."

"Oh," was all she could think of to say. Very eloquent, she thought, feeling the awkwardness crawl up her skin again. She shook it off and steeled herself, "you alright, though? Do you… remember anything?"

She hoped against hope that he had hit his head hard enough to have amnesia. Maybe then she could avoid his inevitable lecture.

There was silence while his eyes focused on the ceiling above him. She could almost sense the wheels and cogs turning over in his mind as he thought of a response. When he looked at her, his eyes widened in what she imagined was some sort of revelation. They quickly narrowed into a glare and her heart froze in her chest.

He was remembering.

Damn it.

"You are mad."

She regarded the clone with furrowed brows, unsure of how to respond to his repeated claim. He pushed himself up with his elbows but his arms shook with the effort. Sitting upright, his eyes bored into her; she could almost feel the simmering frustration that lay beneath them. Her suspicions were correct:

He was not happy.

"Gawd Blimey! What were you thinking, Rose? How could you do something so mental?" he demanded.

Her lips pursed, trying not to be rankled by his palpable anger. She had expected some backlash but his tone was so accusing that it hit a small nerve. She mustered her self-control, "I did what I needed to do."

He scoffed in disbelief, "Needed? You ran out into a war-zone!"

"I was away from the crossfire," she said as calmly as she could manage, but the steeliness in her voice gave her away.

"That's a load of bollocks!" he cried, pointing an accusatory finger in her direction. It felt like a jab to her ego. "You could have gotten hurt or killed-in fact you were almost killed! That van would have easily run you over!" he said, his voice steadily inclining in volume. His eyes were blazing and his cheeks puffed red. She had never seen him this angry before.

Her aloof walls were crumbling, the thought of apologizing was rapidly evaporating. Defensiveness burned in her chest. "I couldn't just stand there and let my dad-"

"No, Rose. You don't understand, do you?" he interjected without any regard. His reserved and cautious nature that she had witnessed for the past two months had disappeared.

"I do understand-"

"Besides screwing up the time continuum when you saved Pete," he referred back to his Northern days when they went back in time to see the day her father died. She cringed inside. It was a day she would rather forget. "That was single-handedly one of the stupidest things you have ever done!"

Rose's cheeks burned with irritation and embarrassment. Her fists clenched. Although he lay helplessly on the bed, his gaze seemed to bear down on her and make her feel small. His condescending look made her want to shrink and scream at the same time.

I was just trying to save dad! How can he treat me like this? I was just trying to save him!

All of the pent up anger and bitterness she thought she had resolved had come boiling back to the surface. Her frustration, disappointment, and despair for her situation came rolling in waves. The volcano of emotions she had been holding back from the second damn day of the beach came erupting out.

"Actually," she began, clipped and biting, "I'm beginning to think that the stupidest thing I've done was seeing the Doctor that night!"

The astonishment in his eyes indicated that he knew exactly what she meant. This show of vulnerability gave her the power trip she needed to continue.

"If I hadn't run to him-if he hadn't run to me-we wouldn't be here right now! He wouldn't have needed to regenerate and you wouldn't even exist! I could be…" a sting in her eyes forced her to choke and stumble on her words, "I could be with him! With the real Doctor!"

It was done.

The words were out of her mouth and they could not be retracted.

The silence between them lay on her skin like poison. It infected her blood and made every inch of her warm with adrenaline and paralysis all at once. Oxygen was trapped in her lungs but she dared not exhale lest she breathed life into the horrible reality she created.

Hurt. Blatant, terrible hurt shone in his eyes as he stared breathlessly at her. It was as though she literally twisted a knife in his heart. The action might have been better because at least he would have only felt the pain briefly before succumbing to death.

Anything would have been better than this.

She wanted to beg and plead for forgiveness but also stand her ground and wallow in the relief she felt for finally saying the words. The disturbing mix of emotions battled within her but guilt wrestled to the surface. Her lips moved to speak but nothing came out. He had that look on his face-one she had seen before-the one where he was shutting the world out.

Shutting her out.

"Is that what you think?" he said very quietly. It chilled her.

What should she say? Would it even matter?

"I don't know what you mean," she settled for instead.

"Do you really think that if the Dalek wasn't there, that you would be able to go back to the way things were?" His words were slow, and articulate but cold all the same.

The question stunned her, rooting her to the ground and rendering her speechless. What did he mean?

He took her silence as an affirmative. "Did you think that it would just be you two? The Doctor and Rose forever and ever?"

He was mocking her now, and it stung her to her core.

"I thought that-"

"You thought what, Rose? That none of it would end? That you wouldn't die? That he wouldn't have left you before that could happen because he couldn't stand to see you waste away?" His volume was inclining again but this anger was different-it was like a pent-up cup overflowing with bitterness. "Is that what you thought because look at where you are! Look! He did! He did leave you because that's what he does! He leaves because he must keep going while others die around him!"

"Then why bother at all!" she shouted suddenly. "Why would he string me along like that? Toy with me only to toss me away like rubbish? Like I'm nothing!" Her voice cracked and tears pooled in her eyes. "I just… I can't believe how stupid I am to have-to honestly have-"

She couldn't say it. The words were swimming up her throat but she was choking on them. Tears slid down her cheeks like streaming bullets and the anger in his eyes softened. The little show of sympathy undid her and the dam completely broke.

"I fell in love with him!" the confession spilled from her lips despite already knowing that he knew this. Of course, he knew. But she didn't care."And god does it hurt so fucking much I feel like screaming and-and just tearing everything apart and-sometimes I feel like I should have just fucking, I don't know! I should have just died the day we were separated than feel this! At least I could have died knowing that he cared about me! That I was important to him-that I made a difference!"

She didn't know when he had slowly swung his legs off the bed nor when he stood but before she knew it, he was standing right in front of her. He was so close that she could feel his warmth radiating from him. She looked up into his face, unashamed of the tears, unashamed of the mascara that was likely smudged under her eyes and she was unashamed for accepting the arms that came around her.

The sobs came out on their own volition. Her whole body shuddered violently against him as she clung to him.

"Please… don't say that. You are important… you did make a difference," he said in her tangled hair.

"Then how? How could he?" The words came out in strangled hiccups as she sobbed. "How could he leave me?"

"Because… that's his curse and the curse of everyone he meets."

"Then why drag me into it? What was so god-damned special about me or… honestly, was I just an easy target? Bored shop-girl looks good, she'll just come when I say?" she mocked miserably.

"No… never." He pulled away and held her at arm's length to look at her. "Rose Tyler." His Adam's apple bobbed as though he were forcing both misery and joy down to the pit of his stomach. "Why you?" he echoed while lifting her chin up with one, gentle finger. "Out of all the boring and unordinary people, you were like starlight. I-he couldn't resist. He couldn't help but be selfish in a moment of loneliness and weakness. You were his light, his hope… and you saved him. There will never be a day where he will ever, ever forget you."

The genuine softness of his voice should have comforted her but the tears kept streaming down her cheeks. She closed her eyes and rested her forehead against his chest. The hand that was beneath her chin slid to the back of her neck and into her hair."I just don't know what to make of all of this. I don't know what to do with…"

You.

"Don't worry about me." He said as though he read the thought from her mind.

She looked up at him and saw the glaze of tears in his brown eyes. Perhaps he thought that she would turn him away now. From her behavior this past month and a half she wouldn't blame him for thinking such things. His watery smile broke a piece of her heart and she reached a hand up to his face. His cheek was warm and scratchy under her palm.

"All I've been doing is worrying about me. I… I haven't been fair to you."

"It's to be expected considering the circumstances," he shrugged but the pain was still shimmering in his eyes.

"I just keep thinking and wishing you were him but you're not… him. At the same time, you are but you're not! I mean, this whole conversation wouldn't have even happened with him…He sure as hell would have avoided a conversation like this...but… it's painful to see you." His face fell but she lifted it back toward her gaze, "It was easier to be angry at the face who did nothing. And I'm so sorry for that."

"And I suppose… I should-"

A knock interrupted him and she immediately pulled away out of his grasp. Warmth evaporated from her and she found herself missing it as soon as she had torn herself away. His arms were outstretched for her and they dropped when they both turned to see the person at the door.

It was Cynthia. Her brown eyes widened in surprise before she nervously pushed some of her blue hair from her face. "O-oh, am I interrupting something?" she asked.

"No," Yes, a voice said in her mind, betraying her. "What is it?"

"Martha wants you. The thing is waking up in the interrogation room."

Rose's fists balled at her sides. Finally, there would be answers. "Lead the way."

"Wait," John said, "Take me with you."

She looked him up and down at his bandages and raised one, brunette brow. "In your condition?"

"I've had worse," he smiled weakly. "Besides, if a concussion can't stop you, then it definitely won't stop me."

She could respect that. Gratitude surged through her as he took her hand and squeezed it. For the first time, she did not mind that he did so. Nodding, she hooked her thumb to the door. "Then let's get to it."