A/N: Oooh I'm all inspired today. Had some good ideas for another fan fic I might start after this one so my diary is now covered in scribbles to remind me of things to write. Think I only have a couple more chapters left on this one now so I'd better get on with it.

There was dancing. Him and Her, Yin and Yang, Sun and Moon, Faith and Hope. Dancing on a cloud of gold dust high above the world but it hurt, burned so terribly. Her eyes were alight with a flame he'd seen with old eyes, burning into his soul, begging for his aid. He gave it willingly, the strength of his many generations flowing through knotted fingers, joining them in a way they could never achieve in physical form. Then the pain really started. The crushing pressure of the Vortex as it flowed between them, the howl of the Bad Wolf in their ears and all they could do was cling to each other as the dance continued, a dance so forbidden that none had survived and yet they were not dying. The Earth held them fast to her, unwilling to let them fly into space and time as they so often did. She pulled them back, filled them with her electricity. The Earth and the Vortex, like so many gods of yore, in perfect harmony and desperate battle with every breath and now the Earth held on, the Bad Wolf pulled, the Vortex consumed and they were spinning, spinning so fast that soon the Sun and the Moon and the Heavens all blurred until all could be seen were their eyes, fixed, locked, loving eyes that swore never to let go whatever the pain. And then the Earth gave her final charge for she loved her child as she loved the wandering child of another world, her two lonely angels who would defend her always. Below in the world so distant from the battle the darkness reigned as every light, sound and element of warmth charged to the battle, saving their angels. And the music began to die, the dance began to end. They were falling, through the dimensions, through time and space and life and love, clinging to each other like waves cling to the shore, never able to let go. The silence returned and the angels lay sleeping. Never once letting go.

XXXX

The Doctor knew what the Wicked Witch of the East must have felt like because he could have sworn someone had dropped a house on him. His whole body ached and when he tried to move his muscles protested violently. He felt the soft brush of fingers in his hair and heard the sound of a gentle lullaby. His brow furrowed in confusion as to who would be singing to him as he slept. He tried to open an eye but sparks flew at him in protest so he kept them closed. Trying to concentrate on the singing to identify the voice. There was a definite South London twang.

"Rose?" he murmured, his mind swimming with both wonderful and dreadful thoughts at her name. Something had happened to her. He could remember the grief, the desperation, then nothing but gold, perfect, beautiful gold, "Rose?"

"She's sleeping," said the singer, still brushing his hair back from his eyes, "Stay still Doctor, you're alright. Rose is alright."

"Who is that?" said the Doctor, finding his voice hoarse and dry. He coughed and felt the pain rise in his chest. He struggled to pull his eyes open, squinting in the bright light. Jackie's face slowly swam into focus above him, fatigue and concern etched on her features.

"Its okay," she said softly, "Take your time." She helped him to sit up slightly higher on the pillows and held a cup of water to his lips. He drank gratefully, feeling the thump in his head subside slowly to a dull ache. He felt a sharp pain in the back of one hand as he moved and looked down to see the drip attached there. The other hand ached terribly and he looked down to see a splint bandaged to him. He gazed around the room, pristine and white but most of his sight was blocked by Jackie as she perched beside him on the bed.

"You're in San Francisco General," said Jackie, taking in his bemused expression, "You've been asleep for nearly four days. Doctor Holloway put the drip in you because she was worried about you weakening but you don't have to worry, nothing seems to have gone wrong and no one knows you're here except us."

"Why've I been sleeping? What happened to me?" said the Doctor searching his memory and drawing a blank, "I can't remember anything since…Rose!"

Jackie gripped his bandaged hand lightly, she had been right about him breaking it in the lift. She smiled softly, her bright face confusing the Doctor in his grief, "She's not dead," she said as she heard him sob, "Look."

She moved to one side to let the Doctor glance to the left of his bed to one that sat beside the window. Rose lay, still unconscious but breathing alone, her hair glowing in the morning sunlight. The Doctor thought she had never looked more like an angel. He shook his head as memories slowly started to resurface.

"Bad Wolf," he muttered, "Jackie? What happened?"

Jackie smiled at him and shrugged, "I'm hardly the best one to explain. Grace said something about the Bad Wolf needing to heal Rose before you came along then when you held Rose's hand in the mortuary their was this almighty flash of light that came around the pair of you. You were crying out but we couldn't get to you, we thought you were going to die but then as soon as it started the light went out again and both you and Rose were unconscious on the floor, you were still holding hands. As I said, I'm hardly the best to explain."

The Doctor shook his head, "Perhaps when my brain starts to co-operate with me a bit more I'll be able to figure it out…but Rose is alright isn't she?"

"Grace says that everything seems fine. It was touch and go for a while though whatever happened to you and Rose knocked out the power in most of San Francisco for two whole days but once she got the heart monitors working again everything has showed promise. Her heart is beating normally again and Grace assures me that your two are too."

The Doctor struggled to sit up further and pulled back the white sheets, blushing as he realised that he was only in a hospital gown, "Attractive," he muttered before sliding to his feet. He felt a weight around his shoulders and was grateful to see Jackie helping him into his own black dressing gown. He smiled at the thought of Jackie finding her way through the TARDIS to fetch him something so domestic.

"Thanks," he said softly as he took several tentative steps towards Rose's beside, grateful for the hand of support around his waist but pretending to ignore it while gripping onto the stand holding his drip for dear life. Never feeling more exhausted in his life he slumped down in the chair next to Rose and took her hand in his own, interlacing their fingers. He raised her pale hand to his lips and kissed the back of it before resting his cheek against the silky skin.

"I'll be outside if you need me," said Jackie, knowing that the Doctor wouldn't want her to see him in any weaker state than he already was. She was out the door before he could even answer. He felt the tears prick the back of his eyes, one breaking loose a coursing down his cheek. He reached up to brush it away, realising with dismay how desperately he needed to shave.

His bandaged hand reached for Rose's hair, running it carefully through his fingers as if rememorizing every strand. His hand continued its path, caressing her cheek before brushing her lips and then on to the smooth skin of her neck. His fingers paused, trembling as he saw the gauze lightly covering her chest. He bit his lip before gently pulling it back, not having to go far to reveal the angry red scar left where Grace had cracked her chest. For a second he felt a lump form in his throat at the scarring but his rational mind took over quickly, grateful for her life and reminding him that he had several gadgets in the TARDIS med bay that would make short work of healing such a wound.

"My bright angel," he murmured, letting his head fall onto the bed beside her, both hands now gripping hers, "I'll never let you go again."

Sleep when it came was peaceful and the Doctor's dreams for once failed to turn to nightmares.

XXXX

Several days passed in San Francisco General. Grace kept prying eyes away from her patients and the Doctors identity was not discovered. Another night in the hospital had seen the Doctor back to strength enough to get himself around but he barely left the room. His only excursion was back to the TARDIS to shave and change his clothes, opting for a pair of blue denim jeans and his previous incarnation's burgundy jumper rather than his traditional suit. The rest of his time was spent by Rose's bedside, reading to her or telling her tales of his adventures. With permission from Grace he had brought several pieces of equipment from the TARDIS' med bay to heal Rose's scar. His work was almost completed. The scar was still a thin pink line on her ivory chest but one more treatment would fade it completely.

The Doctor had tried to fathom the events that led them to their current states but he soon held his hands up in defeat, professing that in some cases, be they very few and far between, even he was at a loss to the answers for everything. Jackie in a way was relieved. Knowing her daughter was safe was all that mattered, any science or explanation would mar the miracle of her recovery.

Jackie maintained the vigil with the Doctor, laughing at his funny adventures, crying at his sad ones, all the time wondering over the love than shone in his eyes for her daughter. The Doctor who swore never to become domestic was doing it ten fold. The subtle lift in heart rhythm and breathing in Rose signalled to them that she was not far from waking and they waited with baited breath for her eyes to open and for her to tell them that all was well.

A/N: Ok, one maybe two chapters left of this I guess. Please keep reviewing as it really makes my day.

Nova x