Title: Manipulation of the Mind
Author: Trustno1
Disclaimer: Doctor Who related things property of the Beeb. Story, other characters and the Voice property of my disturbed little mind :-p
AN: Thanks to everyone who still reads and reviews!
Chapter XXIV
The Doctor strode into the Med Room with a cup of tea and a tumbler of water. He had spent the last five hours pottering around the TARDIS waiting for the upgrade to finish loading and for Rose to wake up. The upgrade had been installed without hitch nearly four hours ago, and for once he couldn't distract himself with 'fixing' something for hours on end, so had come to the Med Room in the hopes that Rose was awake and he could finally talk to her.
At first glance he thought Rose was still asleep; she was sitting up against the headboard but her eyes were shut and her breathing was steady. As he neared, however, he saw she was awake, but just had her eyes closed, a resolute determination set on her face so that it looked as though she were giving a one-man pep talk. He cleared his throat when he was a couple of feet from the bed and she still hadn't acknowledged his presence. She jumped, and her eyes shot open. To begin with he was terrified that the antidote hadn't actually worked – her wide, shocked eyes had the initial appearance of those devoid of emotions, and though her cheeks weren't the candle wax color of previous hours, they didn't have their usual rosy hue. This frightened, emotionless look of Rose's seemed to last half a lifetime to the Doctor, yet it really lasted but a split second, and then was replaced with a happy smile and eyes that shone with joy, relief, thanks and something far more intense that had a mesmerising effect on the Doctor. Then he recovered, grinned back, and sat on the side of her bed, threading his fingers through hers.
"You look better," he said, and mentally kicked himself for coming up with something so lame.
"I'm gonna take your word for it; I haven't seen a mirror in a while," she said back, smiling, which then turned into a frown as her eyes met his. "Have you?"
"What are you talking about?" Rose nodded to the side of his face and the purple bruise that had formed without him even realising. She brought her free hand up to his cheekbone and ran soft, trembling fingers along the flesh.
"I did that didn't I? I can remember it, just. I was fighting you. You were trying to help me, and I kept hitting you over and over…" she broke off, her eyes filled with sorrow, though she couldn't tear them away from his. She started to drop her hand but the Doctor reached for it and held it against his cheek, feeling the steady human pulse beneath his cheek, needing to feel it.
"You were scared, you weren't yourself. I was afraid you'd hurt yourself you were thrashing about so much. I'd rather you punch and kick and hit me for as long as you need than see you hurt yourself," he replied sincerely, blue eyes gazing intensely into Rose's, who looked as though she were about to cry. "Besides," he continued, feeling he needed to lighten the mood a little, or she might not want to tell him what happened to her. "You punch like a girl, not at all like your mum." She gave a wry laugh and closed the gap between them, embracing him tightly. The Doctor returned the gesture willingly, wishing he never had to let go; he could hold her forever, protect her in his embrace from all the dangers of the Universe.
After a long while though, they did part. He knew she would never let him keep anything in the Universe from her if it meant a fascinating, awe-inspiring life in complete contrast to that which she had left behind to travel with the Doctor. All he could hope to do was protect her as best he could, and show Rose the absolute best time of her life.
The Doctor leant casually against the door frame to Rose's bedroom, watching her (through bruise-less eyes thanks to Rose's insistence to treat it) deciding which jacket went best with black jeans and boots, and a thin but fluffy sky-blue sweater. She finally decided on the black one, checking her reflection in the mirror one last time – "God I look like I haven't slept for a week" – before turning to the Doctor.
"I don't bite y'know. And I thought you loved barging in where you aren't asked," she said with a grin which he returned.
"Never get in the way of a woman choosing outfits. Or shopping. Or watching soppy movies. Or Ben And Jerry's. Or…"
"You finished? Coz I hear there's a sun about to be born, and the view's nothing short of fantastic," she said with a smile. The Doctor took her hand as they walked along the corridor, still not believing the transformation of Rose after just a few short hours. He had hardly been able to stop staring into her eyes; they were so full of different emotions it was like they were overflowing.
"Don't suppose there's a particular dress code or anything for watching the birth of a solar system?" she asked, and the Doctor was forced to stop remembering the look in Rose's eyes when she had realised he was there in the Med Room, and concentrate on the here and now.
"Nope. What you're wearing's fine." Rose gave a quiet, sarcastic snort.
"Yeah, the clothes are fine, it's me that looks bloody awful – I dread to think what I looked like before, if you say this is an improvement." The Doctor slowed then, drinking in every detail of the young woman in front of him. Her hair, freshly washed but not blown dry, hung in damp waves about her shoulders; she had applied generous quantities of concealer under her eyes to disguise the dark circles (which he had insisted were not as bad as she thought), yet still managed to maintain a perfectly natural looking skin tone that to the Doctor appeared more radiant than ever; and her eyes were bright and eager and determined and a hundred other emotions that for a time he had been afraid he wasn't ever going to see again.
"You look beautiful," he said, echoing a statement that he had used previously, when she had arrived in the console room in a gorgeous Victorian dress; a compliment that had slipped out before he realised, causing him to make a hasty excuse. There was no excuse this time.
Rose had turned to him when he slowed, watching him with puzzled eyes, and now opened her mouth with a retort on the tip of her tongue, the same one he had used an age ago. But the sincerity in his voice and more importantly, in his eyes, closed her mouth immediately. She knew better than to argue or tease him now.
"Thank you," she said instead, matching his gaze before he moved forward, tugging her along with him.
End Chapter XIV