Title: Manipulationof the Mind

Author: Trustno1

Disclaimer: Roses are red, sonic screwdrivers are blue, Doctor Who belongs to the BBC, and not to Me!

AN: I attempted something resembling shippyness in this chapter - let me know how it works, so I can try to improve on upcoming chapters. Ta!

Chapter XI

The Doctor began to get more and more alarmed at Rose's behaviour. He kept talking to her in the hopes that he could elicit some kind of response, but there was nothing – she said nothing more. Occasionally brief glimmers of emotion would pass over her face – pain, sadness, fear, anger, guilt – but mostly these lasted a few seconds before being replaced with a blank stare that was unnerving him more than he'd care to admit.

He told her about the room. About how after the Time War he had gathered up anything – books, documents, pictures – that had any reference to Gallifrey. Things that were lying around all over the TARDIS, just as in most people's homes you'd find the odd book or paper left on the dining room table, or stuffed in the obscure place next to the microwave. He'd put them all here. There weren't as many items from Gallifrey itself, though he had emptied the library of the Gallifreyan literature he had taken with him if he tired of Earth novels and mechanical books. Most items made reference to his home planet in some way – a case study on time travelling cultures, or an analysis of a particular plant found only on Gallifrey, obscure things like that, that still hurt him to read or see. He told her unresponsive form that the rails of clothes and piles of shoes and accessories belonged to past companions. He'd put them in this one room with everything else, locked away all the things that reminded him he was now alone in the Universe, so he didn't keep coming across reminders day after day.

And then Rose came. And then there was no need for this room. No need for him to detest coming anywhere near here, because she wasn't going to leave; she'd told him so. It was Rose who told him it was better with two; Rose who said he was stuck with her.

To this day he was uncertain as to what made him return a second time to ask Rose to come with him. He wasn't in the habit of begging people for anything, didn't want to make people do something they really didn't. But Rose… He could see in her eyes, her dark, soulful eyes, that she had loved the thrill of adventure and danger. When they were running full pelt across that bridge he had glimpsed across at her as he took her hand – an action that even after a few hours felt as ordinary as if they had been doing it for years – and he saw her grinning, almost laughing. He had known then that she was too good for this world; Rose Tyler was destined for better things than working in a shop all day, and returning to a useless boyfriend, repeating this day after day, never seeing any of the fascinating wonders the Universe held.

And about ten seconds after dematerialising from in front of Rose and Mickey the Idiot, he reversed, re-materialised, opened the door and told her something that would change her life. He knew she desperately wanted to say 'yes' the first time, saw it in her body language and they way she leant subconsciously towards him for a fraction of a second, before being pulled back by the Idiot. He told himself as she ran towards him, that he did this for her – he knew she wanted it, and not asking her a second time would be cruel, and the Doctor was never deliberately cruel to anyone. But a smaller voice whispered that he wasn't being completely selfless, he wasn't doing it entirely to save her, but more to save him, because he wanted her to come with him, desperately.

He told her this – told her she couldn't leave him. Begged her to snap out of it.

He realised as he was talking monotonously to her how cowardly hiding everything away was, especially coming from him, a person who ran headlong into danger on a daily basis. He still hoped Rose would snap out of whatever it was that was causing her to be so lifeless, and tell him, in a voice that could only be hers, just how ridiculous he was being.

But even the Doctor's heartfelt admission failed to elicit the response he wished she would give. He half expected her to suddenly grin manically, and give him a big hug, and tell him he was so gullible sometimes, and to stop being so afraid. She didn't. Her eyes remained unfocused, and she was now swaying slightly on her feet, as if she was on the verge of fainting. She still felt far too hot to the touch, and whimpered intermittently in pain. His hearts felt like they were breaking each time he heard her.

Finally the Doctor couldn't take it any longer. She could yell and thrash about all she wanted; Rose was going to the Medical bay, and he was carrying her there whether she liked it or not. Since talking to her was looking to be a pointless exercise, he took a deep breath, and scooped her up in his arms.

She lay perfectly still. He was surprised at how much lighter she was than he thought. She felt so small and frail, and she wasn't fighting back, or doing much of anything. She just lay there impassively in his arms.

Just let him take you there, Rose. But you aren't going to let him get away with it, are you? You can fight your way out of the Medical bay far easier than in here. You can use things in there to fight back, to stop him from hurting you before it happens again.

So Rose lay still, the pain lessening further, her own voice fading to a distant whisper. Listening to the Voice was taking greater precedence over noticing the uneasy feeling growing inside her, out of reach of the Voice, and unfortunately Rose, at this time.

They reached the Medical bay without incident, the Doctor quickly navigating his way through the corridors of the TARDIS, who seemed to be co-operating once again. He lay Rose down on one of the beds, tenderly tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, allowing his fingers to linger on her cheek, before turning to a cabinet of equipment.

Now, Rose. Get him before he gets you!

Rose blindly grabbed a hold of the first thing she lay her hands on – a small lamp on the bedside table – and flung it at the Doctor. It struck him squarely between the shoulder blades, and he gave a shout of surprised pain, hurriedly turning around to see Rose preparing to launch herself at him again. The Doctor reached her just as she was propelling herself from the bed. He crashed into her, driving her back down with a force that made him immensely glad they had landed on the bed. He pinned her down and fumbled in the bedside table for some soft restraints he hoped he had in there.

He was in luck. However trying to restrain a writhing young woman with one hand was no mean feat - her flailing arms caught him half a dozen times in the face and on his arms before he managed to tie them to the railing. He shifted his position on her legs so he could tie them down next, but his vision in his left eye was slightly blurred – she'd gotten one last, surprisingly hard punch in before he finished – which was hindering him somewhat.

Eventually the Doctor managed to restrain her, and he sat back on the bed, pain evident in his eyes. He lovingly smoothed her hair around her flushed face and took one of her hands as he adjusted the restraints so they wouldn't rub at her wrists. Rose's eyes were closed, so he couldn't give her a reassuring look as he usually did, and this upset him more that he would have liked. Instead, he contented himself with giving her small, hot hand a comforting squeeze, then leant close to her ear, lips brushing slightly on her cheek. His voice cracked with emotion as he whispered to her:

"I'm so sorry, Rose. I'm gonna get you better; don't worry. You're gonna be just fine, Rose, just fine." Even as he said it, he hoped and prayed it was true.

End Chapter XI