"Doctor, I haven't a clue what you mean by that. What can you mean, I'm part Tardis?" The fear within me is manifesting as anger, unjustified anger towards him and I wish I could stop it but it's flowing out, not asking for my permission. He doesn't seem offended, or even surprised for that matter.
"No, perhaps my words were a bit confusing. See, when you looked into the Tardis, you allowed her inside, you channeled her power through yourself, and you were able to do incredible things. Rosie, you ended the time war, once and for all," his fingers gently lift my chin as I meet his eyes, "something that I haven't properly thanked you for yet." Heat rises to my face softly. He drops his hand, but my gaze remains. "And Rose, when you brought life back into Jack, I know you weren't meaning to, but it happened. And a darn good thing, too, humankind is going to need him there. We'll see him soon, though. Oh yes, where was I? Ah, of course. Rose, I don't think Jack's life was the only one that you changed. I think that at the time you had so many emotions coursing through you that the energy of the Tardis fed into anything it or you had a distinct connection with, one whose life wasn't guaranteed to go on." He seems uncertain in his wording, hesitant to go on as he analyses my face.
"Please, whatever you're trying to say just tell me, I can handle it."
"Rose, I think you might have taken away your ability to die." Definitely wasn't expecting that. I forget to breathe for a moment as my eyes are lost in his face, my thoughts. I open my mouth but close it and lick my lips. I feel myself dizzying, swaying a bit back and forth. He brings his hand behind me to steady me. I take a deep breath.
"Okay, yes I wasn't expecting something like that. But... you mentioned testing? You can see if this is for real or not?"
"Yes, I want to analyse the proteins in your blood and see if their molecular structure has changed and your DNA re-hardwired for self-healing and regeneration. It shouldn't take too long, and only a vial, two to be safe. I'd also like to conduct a brief physical. No one's ever done something like this before, Rose, and I would be lying if I said I wasn't worried about you." Still feeling a bit off I nod.
"Let's get on with it then and get some solid answers before my brain explodes from speculation, shall we?" Agreeing, he stands, again busying himself with equipment.
He listens to my heart and my lungs and checks my eyes. Feels my head and my ribs, ensuring all of the systems are in proper working order. When it comes time for the blood drawing I lay back on the bed. The cool alcohol wipe passes over my skin and I try not to think about what comes next.
"Doctor?" He doesn't look up as he answers.
"Yes, Rose?" My heartrate picks up as I see him setting the needle. I close my eyes and lay my head back.
"Did you actually go to medical school? Are you a qualified doctor?" I hear a lighthearted chuckle.
"As a matter of fact, I am, and I did. I attended Harvard not long after it opened when I was stuck there for a spill. Nice campus, not a bad time." All the while I can hear him tinkering, and finally he grasps my arm skillfully. The tourniquet already in place, I can hardly feel the needle slip in, just a pinch. It's over and done with as quickly as can be, but I still feel very dizzy. He takes it out and slips a band aid over it. I think I might be sick. There's no bin in here that I can see, but the toilet is just outside the med bay. I jump off the bed and make it to the door before my vision blackens. I haven't passed out; I just can't see. I stood up too fast, and even worse, my stomach is still catching up.
"ROSE!" He's startled, but with me and doesn't let me fall as my knees give way. My hand is pressed tight over my mouth, but he gets the message. Using his sonic screwdriver, he opens a cabinet not far pulling a bin to us, holding it under me as I basically pant, not getting sick but just waiting for my insides to stop lurching. I lean on him and his cool hands feel nice against my forehead, my neck. He strokes my hair softly as it finally ends, and he pushes away the bin. Cuddling me close warm lips press to my forehead, the tired smile springing to my face unavoidable.
"Thank you," I manage to squeak out the soft words, barely keeping my eyes open. Despite having woken up less than an hour ago, I feel as though I need a nap.
"Maybe you should have a lie-in, Rose, I don't know if I've ever seen you this far out of it. I have to take care of these tests anyways and I can come see you when I've finished, how's that?"
Nodding, he helps me to stand and we plod down the corridor. We stop at his room to gather my duvet, but I sit on the king-sized mattress before he can pick it up, laying back and pulling it closely around me. A gleam of mischief finds a home in my eyes as I peek out at him from behind the thick blanket.
He can't deny me his warm grin, "Alright then, take my bed why don't you," he pulls the sheets and his duvet back, giving me a space to get further into the bed. "Why this is a first for me," he muses.
"What's that, doctor? Have you never tucked anyone in to sleep?" I've earned a chuckle.
"I've never had anyone else sleep in this bed." This is quite surprising. Nine hundred years of time and space and he's never shagged anyone in here?
"Well, happy to be your first then," the mischief never leaves. With a final longing glance, he vacates the room, back towards the med bay I'm sure. I gaze around the room, wondering to myself how long it's looked like it does now. How often do you redecorate if you never have to die? It's not long before a dream-ridden sleep finds me, though the dreams don't make a lick of sense to me. They're patchy but familiar, my mum and Micky and the Doctor all making regular appearances. It's a nice reminisce, I do rather miss them.
Slowly and kindly I'm beckoned out of dreamland by my doctor. I awaken to his hand brushing up and down my arm, I smile as my eyes gently blink to open and I grasp his hand, working to memorize the creases of his palms, the curl of his cuticles. All the little perfections that come together to build my time lord.
"Well good morning to you, sleepyhead," his voice is soft and for this I silently thank him, my head hasn't quite felt the same since.
"How long was I out for then?"
"Oh, a couple hours, not too long. Well-deserved I'd say," looking up at his face I see his features are held by hesitancy, an emotion that does not suit him well. I remember the lab work he's likely just finished up with.
"Doctor? What did you see in the lab work?" The concern lacing my voice is evident. His eyebrows raise and the hesitancy is whisked away by a mask, as if he'd forgotten; as if he was ever capable of forgetting anything, no matter how minute the detail.
"Oh yes, that lab work. Ah, perhaps we should chat over a nice cup of tea, that is the best way to start a morning, you know," he stands up, still pajama-clad, "Shall I fix us one? I don't mind at all, I'm not sure that I can make it as well as you, but I can give it a go." He's back stepping into the closet now. "I'll just be a moment!" Lips pressed together in a tight line, I admit I am curious. Even in the face of almost certain doom I've never seen him act so… odd? Not a minute later he's back, fully dressed in his signature suit down to the tie and adorably disheveled hair. By now I've stood, waiting for his return. It's been a long-running tradition that I make the tea in the mornings, one I don't want to lose.
"Ah doctor, I think you've forgotten; we had a deal remember? You save the day and I make the tea." We start the short walk to the kitchen.
"Hm, I suppose that is true, but might I remind you that yesterday it was you who saved the day, so I think it's only fair that I make the tea," Not able to argue with neither that sound logic nor my resilient doctor, a huff of a sigh escapes me, transforming into a quick bout of a chuckle on its way out and I sit at the small table, subdued. He refills and pops the kettle on, readying two cups with tea bags and takes milk out of the refrigerator. He faces the kettle as it boils. Not able to read his face, I look around the kitchen for the umpteenth time, remembering the first time I walked in here, all through the Tardis, a much more naïve Rose Tyler. The kitchen is on the smaller side, with everything you'd expect. The walls could use a fresh coat of paint, but I love the butchers block benches and the Tardis-crafted window whose location changes each morning. Today it looks like a dewy Parisian morning. An oven/stove combo, fridge, and just one cabinet for food. We've never run out of storage space, though, everything is bigger on the inside. You simply concentrate on what you want to take out of the cabinet before you open it and it's waiting for you there. Great for transport, not so much if you forget about something, say an extra bag of potatoes, for a year.
Lost in thought, I don't realize the tea is finished until he sets mine down (milk, no sugar) and sits across from me. He takes a long sip, and I can never understand how he enjoys it so dreadfully hot. I stir mine while I wait for it to cool. I look up to his face where he sits silently, and he's taken a keen interest to the swirl patterns in his cup.
"Doctor," I try to gently pull him back to reality, back to me, "Doctor, it sounds like we need to talk about what you found."
His gaze lifts incredibly slowly, and I'm reminded of a young child who doesn't want to participate in the family photo, wearing an itchy Christmas sweater. He looks like someone who would love to anywhere except on the spot right now.
But he's not a child, he's a strong sophisticated doctor who is able to respond tactfully.
"Rose, I'm really not quite sure how to say this. And I'm not even sure what you want, or how you feel about this, but I just want to say that I truly am sorry, Rose, I didn't mean for this to happen to you." His words are quick and quiet, the serious tone setting me on edge, but I take a deep breath, forcing my emotions into a small little box in my brain. He's not his normal self, and I can't be falling off the edge of hysteria today. I have to be strong for him.
"I'm sure that whatever it is, it's not this bad, Doctor. Please just tell me, we're going to work through this. No matter what it is, this is not your fault," I look more pointedly into his eyes, "okay? Not your fault." I am grateful I was able to say that with much more confidence than I feel.
He takes a deep breath. If only I could feel his hearts right now, soothe them, for I know that they're racing. His hands fiddle with his teacup. "You see, I did the blood sample analysis and it seems that I may have been right."
"Well of course, you're always right Doctor," I can't get my lips to pull up into a smile at the weak joke, "but what exactly does all of this mean?" I'm struggling to keep my voice even; his lips curl around as they try to function to create words.
"I believe that, when you brought life back while you commanded the Tardis energies, well I believe that you might have rendered yourself immortal."