Almost two hours later he dragged himself through the door of the TARDIS; tired, still slightly damp, cold and very annoyed. He must have walked round in circles for an hour and a half in the labyrinth like back streets, before he had finally found himself somewhere he recognised. Even then it had taken him another good half hour to work his way back here. All the while every horrible possibility of what could be happening to Rose as he wasted all this time was running through his head.

To try and block that out he had started mentally working on the problem at hand. It was fairly obvious to him that she was under the influence of some kind of mind control or hypnosis, most likely administered by a drug of some sort. She clearly wasn't herself at all. Unless there was something about her former life she really wasn't telling him.

Maybe whatever it was had made him pass out too. It had been a long time since he'd kissed anyone but they had never been like that before. Not enough to knock him out anyway. As lovely as she was, he didn't think that was all Rose's doing. She must have passed it on to him when she kissed him. Infected him so to speak. He smiled at that – he really was an old romantic at heart.

But how and where had she been administered with such a substance in the first place? He'd been with her all the time they had been on this world, except when she had gone to get changed and when she had been in her room after their return. Surely nothing could have got to her in the safe confines of the TARDIS.

One thing was entirely certain though. He had to find out what had caused it otherwise he was next to useless to her. If he couldn't discover what it was and make himself immune to the effects, the best he could hope for was to go back there, stare at her again, fail to resist her again and wake up on the street. Again.

Despite his still heavy limbs, he didn't want to waste a moment more. Since he was fairly certain that nothing had been done to her whilst she was under his watchful gaze, he decided the best place to check would be the only place she had been alone – her room. Maybe she had picked up something in the marketplace that she hadn't told him about.

As he entered, a disturbing sense of déjà vu ran through him. This was exactly how it had been earlier when he had first discovered that she was missing. Talk about starting back at square one.

Glancing around he tried to take everything in with a detached, logical eye. The furniture in this room was how it had always been - the king sized bed, side table, chair and dresser. Rose's own clothes were folded neatly and placed on the chair. He immediately eliminated them as a possible source of trouble since she hadn't worn them outside the TARDIS during their time here, and he was convinced that whatever it was it had been administered on this planet. How else would this Hasani know that he could just take her without a fuss?

As he entered the room further his feet trod on something. The wig was lying discarded on the floor and he bent down to check it. Nothing seemingly untoward there. Although Rose was right, it was heavy, warm and sweaty.

The Doctor stood once more, frowning and glancing around. What else could it be then? Perhaps he was on the wrong track and there was nothing here after all. She could quite possibly have been injected with something without her knowledge, or have breathed something in. Perhaps-

His gaze stopped dead.

How could he be so stupid? And he had the cheek to call Mickey an idiot.

The flower was laying there on the side table, perfectly innocent looking, inches from where she would have been sleeping. Hopping across the bed, he flicked on the table lap and used it to examine the plant more closely. The petals were tightly closed, the stalk peppered with small thorns.

Of course. He had been scratched by one of those thorns just before he'd handed it over to Rose. If there were some kind of drug in the flower, it would have gotten straight into his blood stream. That could explain why he had fallen asleep so rapidly and without warning.

But had Rose scratched herself too? Seemed too much like a coincidence to him. Why would someone who wanted to hypnotise and kidnap a young woman, bank on the off chance that she might catch one of the thorns? No, there had to be more to it.

Moving away from the stem, his attention turned to the petals. Nothing particularly peculiar there. He prised them open carefully, a little surprised at how tightly packed they were, then immediately dropped it to the floor, covering his nose and mouth with his jacket sleeve. A crimson dust had seeped from the flower the moment he had opened it. The view immediately struck a chord with him. He vaguely remembered seeing something similar just before Rose had kissed him. Had it come from her mouth?

Picking up the flower carefully with one hand, he left her room and headed straight to the lab. Pushing open the double doors, he placed the flower in one of the air tight, see through examination cases and slipped his hands into the gloves which would allow him access to it without falling prey to its effects once more. He needed to get a sample of the dust and get the TARDIS to analyse it, so he could find out what it did and then produce a defence.

Pulling the petals apart, the crimson dust immediately floated out again. He tipped the flower up, pouring as much as he could into a test tube. Removing that safely from containment, he crossed over to a different console, opened up a small hatch and placed it inside. Sealing the door tightly shut, he firmly palmed the button next to it. The TARDIS would do the rest; he just had to wait.

Within moments he was sighing and tapping his foot impatiently as he glanced around the room. It was great facility really, not that he used it much. He was far happier chasing around the universe, learning things through experience, than sitting in a laboratory looking through microscopes and testing soil samples. Needs must though.

Leaning back against the console, his eyes wandered the room again. He was already bored. It was a time machine for goodness sake. How long did it really need to analyse the pollen from one tiny little flower?

Raising his eyebrows in surprise, his view caught a glimpse of something unexpected. Reaching into a gap between two nearby consoles, his fingers pulled out a book. Turning it over in his hands he smiled. 'Great Expectations' by Charles Dickens. It was covered in a disgustingly thick dust and had apparently been there for some time. Opening it, he leant back against the console once more and tried to lose himself within its pages.

He only ever got as far as the fact that the character's name was Pip though. He must have read that line at least thirty times without taking in more than three words of it. Whenever he stopped thinking about the results he was waiting for, only one thing replaced them in his mind.

Rose.

And kissing Rose.

He sighed, rubbing his temples. Maybe the drug was still affecting him slightly.

The moment he'd seen Rose in the basement of the department store surrounded by Autons, he had known that there was something different about her. It was so wonderfully obvious that he hadn't stopped grinning about it for an hour afterwards. He'd been alone for some time and the prospect of having a new companion was a welcome one. She seemed to be just about ideal for the job.

He didn't believe in anything so ridiculous as love at first sight; what a half-witted human idea that was. That kind of bond, if properly done, was meant to be about respecting and getting to know someone, not instant physical attraction based on chemicals. But he had felt a connection to her; that much he was sure of. And although it seemed that there was very little a nine hundred year old Time Lord and a nineteen year old girl from a London council estate could have in common, they were just meant to be companions. He treasured the chance to show her the universe. To take her out of the shell her one little planet confined her to and let her explore things beyond her imagination. He would never forget the look of pure joy on her face as she had stepped into the snow in Victorian Cardiff. Could Mickey the Idiot have ever given her that? Could he love her like he did?

Yes, he could admit freely to himself that he loved Rose Tyler, but not in a 'settle down, have kids and get a mortgage' type of way. It was somehow better than that. They were better than that. Who had time for picking out curtains and writing joint Christmas cards when you had all ages of the universe to be explored at the throw of a few switches? Humans put such worth on love; it was hard for them to see there were some things that were even greater. Or maybe it was just a point of perspective. Everything must look very different to a person who would live less than a century, to one who had already been alive for nine.

But what if Rose changed? What if eventually she wanted all those things that humans inevitably desired? Could he possibly give them to her? Was he even capable of that? Or would he do the noble thing and let her go to find someone who could?

It disturbed him a little that he couldn't answer that. It was what made him keep his distance from her at times. It would be unfair on her to openly admit to their clearly shared affection if he was unsure whether or not it led to a dead end on his part. Besides, weren't they happy the way things were?

The console bleeped and he immediately dropped the book, forgotten once more. His sharp eyes scanned over the results and a wide grin spread slowly across his face. Now he was getting somewhere.


The tavern looked even more seedy in the harsh light of the mid morning sun. There were no forgiving shadows now to hide its dirty and slightly run down brickwork, no half-light to give it a vaguely warm and strangely inviting glow.

Yes, in the glare of the day the place was a certifiable dump. And an abandoned looking dump at that. The Doctor's scanner, however, had confirmed that Rose was indeed still inside, along with half a dozen Gallosian women. He wondered if they had been drugged like she had or if they were doing this voluntarily.

Heading around to the rear of the building, away from the public entrance, he found himself facing a reasonably high stone wall. Hoisting himself up with his arms, he looked down into a sparse, empty courtyard with only two defining features. The first was a fairly large, shallow well that he assumed supplied the drinking water for the premises; the other was a door into the main building. Perfect.

Within moments he had cleared the wall, was inside the door and was shutting it quietly behind him. He rolled his slightly aching shoulders, stretching the muscles out. Rose would have laughed at him, calling him an old man.

The corridor he found himself in was dimly lit, the shutters on the windows tightly closed and letting in virtually no daylight. Flames from the wall-mounted torches highlighted the heavy wooden doors that lined the passage ahead. The place was silent, still and apparently empty. He checked his tracking device once more to pinpoint her position. Turn left, third door along the right. Snapping it shut again, he placed it in his pocket and headed to the room in question.

A small beep from the device cause him to pause however. He checked it again briefly and then looked towards the door he was standing next to. Glancing hurriedly around, he decided to take a small detour.

The room he found himself in was clearly some sort of storeroom, although the assortment of objects in it were rather unusual. Jewellery, trinkets, a few silk handkerchiefs, random piles of money. And the tracking device that had been stolen from him.

"Right," the Doctor said, taking his property back. The situation was starting to become much clearer.

Leaving the room, he continued on his original purpose and headed for where Rose should be. He tested the handle, turning it, and was mildly surprised to find that it was not locked. The reason for that became clear as he entered. Rose was lying there, sound asleep on the small bed in the centre of the dingy room, still dressed in the clothes he had seen her in the night before. She didn't exactly look in a hurry to be going anywhere.

He crossed quickly to her, bending down and shaking her shoulders gently. There was no sign of stirring on her slack, expressionless face.

"Rose?" he said softly into her ear, torn between the need to wake her and not wanting to alert anyone else to his presence, "Come on, get up."

He shook her a little harder but to no avail. Clearly she was still heavily drugged and he wasn't going to get her out of here in this state.

He reached out and hauled her into an upright position, manoeuvring himself so he was sitting behind her, supporting her dead weight in his arms. Careful not to let her fall again, he retrieved a test tube from his pocket. The blue liquid it contained was the antidote the TARDIS had produced for him. Taking it orally was apparently the most effective form of application. Opening her mouth and tipping her head back slightly he poured it down her throat.

Mere moments later a hoarse groan slipped from her lips and she mumbled something incomprehensible.

"That's more like it," the Doctor said, pleased.

Tucking the test tube back into his pocket he stood up, hauling Rose with him. Supporting her with an arm around the waist he headed for the door, Rose stumbling along beside him only semi-conscious. She seemed happy enough to do what he wanted without a fuss though. Made a refreshing change.

Out in the corridor he decided it was useless to go back the way he had come. He hadn't seen any gates or doors into the courtyard, and he didn't fancy trying to lift an uncooperative Rose over that wall. Instead he went the other way down the corridor, towards the actual bar. The door at this end was slightly ajar and he propped Rose up against the wall, holding her firmly there with one hand, whilst he peered inside the room. The place thankfully seemed empty and the door to the outside was secured with a simple bolt. Easy.

He had just gotten Rose moving again when he heard a door opening in the corridor behind them. Cursing under his breath he tried to hurry her up, but she was still uncoordinated and confused, her feet stumbling slowly along no matter how hard he tugged. Sighing, he scooped her up and headed quickly to the door, opening it with a combination of a partially free hand and his elbow, and leaving swiftly into the street. Fortunately the area around the tavern was still deserted, otherwise he may have had a hard time explaining to any curious passers by why he was carrying a semi clad, semi conscious girl out of a bar.

He disappeared quickly into the side alleys and kept going until he was far enough away from the tavern to say with a reasonable degree of certainty that they were safe. In a deserted plaza, he stopped, placing Rose gently on the floor and propping her against a post that held up an awning. He wiped the back of his brow quickly, splashing cool water onto his face from yet another one of the drinking troughs that littered this city. Rose wasn't exactly huge but it was hot out here. Maybe he shouldn't have worn the jacket.

Crouching down next to her, he studied at Rose for any obvious signs that she was coming round properly, before reaching out and shaking her leg. She mumbled at him, sounding slightly irritable, but showing no further signs of consciousness.

He flicked some water at her from the trough.

"Come on, Sleeping Beauty. Wakey, wakey."

Her mutters were a little angrier this time. He thought he could make out a 'get off' in there. The antidote was clearly working, but Rose had been exposed to the drug for a good while and it was spread throughout her system. It could take a fair length of time for her to come round properly.

The Doctor sighed. He didn't like this. They were vulnerable here. Despite his earlier wish to do something vengeful to Hasani when he caught up with him, his primary concern had always been getting Rose back safely. He had no guarantee that someone hadn't spotted him leaving the tavern with her, and he knew that they should get back to the security of the TARDIS and off this planet as quickly as possible. He didn't know much about this man, but he had a feeling he'd be a little angry when he realised that someone had taken his new toy. There was no point in them getting into any further unnecessary trouble.

But it was taking some time for the drug's effects to wear off, the same way it had for him when he had come round on the streets the night before. And he hadn't been exposed to it for anywhere near as long. She could be like this for hours yet.

Then a grin split his face. Why didn't he think of that before? Such a simple solution…

"Right," he said, picking Rose up once more, "You asked for it. Don't say I didn't warn you."

And he dumped her fully into the water trough.

The effect was almost instantaneous. Within seconds her arms were flailing around wildly and she sat up with an alarmed squeal, coughing and spluttering. Her furious glare turned straight to him as she pulled strands of soaking wet blonde hair away from her face.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" she fumed, totally incensed.

"Oh that's nice," the Doctor replied a little huffily, although deep down he was relieved to have the real Rose back. "I rescue you and get shouted at for my troubles."

"This is your idea of rescuing me?" she asked incredulously. "Are you working from some weird alien definition of the word 'rescue' that I don't know?"

The Doctor raised his eyebrows.

"Do you even know what I was rescuing you from?"

Rose stopped, confusion and a little fear, spreading across her face, "No… Did I need rescuing?"

"What's the last thing you remember?" he asked, intrigued.

She shook her head vaguely, trying to think. "We went out to visit Nefertiti's place. It was really hot and I was baking in that wig. I remember getting back to the TARDIS. I went to my room, I was gonna have a shower, but I was tired, and-"

At that moment she looked down and realised something.

"What the hell am I wearing?" she intoned slowly, looking from her unfamiliar clothes back to the Doctor. All the accusation was gone, now she was relying on him, looking for answers.

"It's not as bad as you think, honest." he reassured.

"Oh, really? You don't know what I'm thinking."

She stood up, stepping out of the trough, batting away the Doctor's attempted helping hand. He was amazed at the difference in her now from the previous night. Then she had been confident, proud and predatory. Now she was herself again: shy, self conscious and very uncomfortable. Dressing like this just wasn't her.

"Would you quit gawking at me and give me your jacket?" she asked, trying to sound lighthearted and not quite succeeding.

He immediately obliged, draping it around her shoulders. She stuck her hands in the pockets and wrapped it tightly around herself. It was much too big on her, coming halfway down her thighs.

"You might want to leave it open a bit," he suggested, slightly awkwardly. "Otherwise it doesn't look like you're wearing anything else."

"Right. Good point," she conceded, letting it loosen a bit.

She looked very small, standing there wrapped in his oversized jacket with her wet hair laying in tangled strands and her mascara running. He hadn't really considered before how frightening it could be for her to wake up not knowing what had happened. On an alien planet, wearing next to nothing and having a big blank in her memory – she could only guess at all the horrible possibilities that could have befallen her.

"It's alright," he reassured softly, placing a hand on her shoulder, "It was nothing too terrible. We need to get back to the TARDIS, yeah? Then I'll explain everything."

A soft grin alighted on his face.

"Besides, I think we should get you into something bigger than a handkerchief."

The fact that she smiled back was testament to her trust in him. If he said it was all right it was and she didn't need to worry.

"Like you weren't getting a good look," she teased lightly.

"I'll have you know that I am a gentleman," he said with mock affront.

"Well, do the gentlemanly thing and escort me back to your blue box."

He held out his hand and she grabbed it in a vice like grip.

As they began to walk he wondered how gentlemanly she would think him when she remembered what had happened in the bar.