A/N:No…still own nothing! Oh well. Awww isn't Grace nice agreeing to help the Doctor but just because she's agreed doesn't mean that she'll be successful. Will Rose pull through? Will she be able to remain with the Doctor? Will the Doctor fail her?

The Doctor glanced at his watch and something he could only refer to as 'stupid o'clock' blinked back at him. He was glad Grace had been able to get them a private room, enabling both himself and Jackie to remain at Rose's side throughout the night. Jackie lay in the makeshift sleeping cot provided by the hospital while the Doctor made do with the hard leather chair, his head resting on the bed beside Rose's elbow. He sat up and stretched out knowing his Time Lord physiology wouldn't let him get back to sleep. He glanced down at the woman sleeping beside him, the monitors beeping around her intermittently, letting him know she was ok. She looked so fragile, pale and thin despite only a few days of worry. He couldn't resist pushing back a lock of hair from her forehead, gently letting the blonde silk run through his fingers.

He couldn't believe how much had changed. He thought back to the confident, strong young woman he had taken to his bed only a few days before. The woman who had set his world on fire with her talented lips and skilled hands. He couldn't believe the goddess he'd watched as she'd moved beneath him was now laying broken and fragile in a hospital bed. He cursed his very existence, how everything he ever loved seemed to be snatched from him before he could ever fully enjoy it. He had resisted his feelings for Rose for so long but now all he wanted was to spend every waking moment by her side, as her lover, her confidante, her husband.

The Doctor shook his head at his final thought but couldn't shake the blissful image that fell before him and he allowed his mind to wander along its chosen path. Rose in a bridal gown, Rose wearing his ring, Rose standing beside two beautiful children with scruffy hair and big brown eyes… Rose slowly aging while he stayed the same…Rose unable to go on any adventures…Rose bed ridden and old, surrounded by the great grandchildren who became more human with each generation as their Time Lord blood thinned…Rose dying in his arms…standing by Rose's grave side in a dim lit cemetery. The inscription swam in the Doctor's mind. Rose Marion Tyler 1987- 2006.

The Doctor paled and ran a hand over his eyes, refusing to notice the image, Rose had to be old when she died, not…

The gentle murmurs from the bed beside him pulled him from his painful musings and he leaned over her sleeping form, committing every line, shadow and freckle on her face to his memory. Her voice in the hospital's silence startled him.

"Why don't you go and tinker with the TARDIS rather than staring at me?"

"You're much prettier," said the Doctor, relief flooding him for no reason as two sleepy eyes opened to hold his.

"I'll tell her," said Rose, "What are you doing awake at this hour? Getting itchy feet already?"

"I couldn't sleep," said the Doctor as Rose patted the bed beside her and shifted over so the he could climb on. He settled beside her and wrapped her in his arms, pressing a kiss to her temple, "Go back to sleep Rose, I'll be here when you wake up."

"I know," murmured Rose, sleep already beginning to claim here, "but will I wake up?"

The Doctor was about to respond when he heard her breathing fall into the deep sighs of sleep and chose not to wake her again, only uttering a silent prayer that she did wake the next morning.

XXXX

Grace buzzed around the theatre's ready room, her assistants helping her into her scrubs and gloves. The Doctor already stood to one side, ready in what would have been a comical look for him if it wasn't for the gravity of the situation. He stood in similar scrubs to those Grace wore but with his sonic screwdriver in his hand. Grace had convinced her team that the Doctor was a famous cardiac surgeon from England who wanted to try out a new electronic device during the operation. She had thought the use of the sonic screwdriver in theatre as crude at first but the Doctor had assured her of its accuracy and promised to only use it if there was a desperate need. Of course Rose had not been informed of its potential use, the Doctor knew the idea would have been met by a tirade of four letter expletives followed by a good hard slap if it was even mentioned.

"You ready Doctor?" said Grace as her surgical mask was pulled over her face.

"No but I don't exactly have time to back out now," he said his own voice muffled by the cloth covering it, "We'd best get in there."

Rose lay on the operating table, already unconscious and hooked up to the necessary machines. The Doctor felt a pang of jealousy as he noted the number of male surgical nurses in the room and Rose's open gown. Hardly the dignity she usually bore so effortlessly.

"She looks so young," he said softly but Grace heard.

"Doctor if you can't handle this…"

"No, no I'll be fine, just…odd you know. That's my Rose on there."

"I know," said Grace moving to the table and switching into her most professional mode, "Ok, scapel, probe and let's skip straight to track fifteen."

The music filtered through the room, La Boheme if the Doctor wasn't mistaken.

"Still a Puccini fan then?" he said as Grace began by making a small incision in Rose's side, "Just don't get lost."

Although he couldn't see her mouth the Doctor knew that Grace was smiling, "I didn't have much of a choice last time, you weren't exactly an easy patient Doctor."

"But so worth it," said the Doctor, turning to the heart monitor as Grace pushed the probe into the incision she had made, "Err…Doctor Holloway? What on earth is that?"

A/N: Ooooh cliffy. Sorry, had to. I have an evil streak.