The Doctor's mind went into an odd, semi-conscious dream-state as the healing coma took over and his body desperately tried to repair itself from the massive amount of damage that the time vortex had caused. His mind spent the idle hours (as it so often did) worrying over Rose.
Was she experiencing any negative lingering effects from the vortex energy? Were her memories returning to her at all? How long would she be willing to wait for him to wake up?
Luckily (or, perhaps, unfortunately, depending on how one looked at it), the Doctor didn't have time to ponder about how she was feeling about the whole thing. Rose was at his side constantly, running the back of her hand over his forehead and tentatively running her fingers through his sweat-drenched hair. Every touch of her skin against his was like a sweet melody in his mind, and he reached out helplessly, begging for her to open her mind to him so that he could somehow reassure her.
She was a complete nervous wreck beneath the facade of calm efficiency that she put on for her mother and Mickey. She was filled with frustration and doubt and the Doctor felt like a prisoner in his own useless skin because it was all his fault and there was absolutely nothing that he could do about it. And through it all was a hopeless, desperate longing for a man with blue eyes and a leather jacket that she missed so terribly that it made his hearts ache.
Doctor, where are you? We need you, she begged, her thoughts brushing against his mind as she took his pulse for the fourth time that hour. I need you ...
He didn't have to wonder much more about her memory, then, because Rose was suddenly projecting the sensation of their kiss back on the Game Station and it was obvious to anyone with even the slightest hint of telepathic ability that she remembered the scene just as vividly as he did.
What the Doctor did wonder about, though, was the sudden strength and power of her projection. Was she doing it on purpose, or had it been on accident? She had let things slip from her mind to his in the past without realizing it before, but none of it had been like this. In fact, it wasn't even so much projection as it was connection, and the Doctor was suddenly reminded of that brief, shining moment of Satellite Five when he had felt her in his head as clearly as though she had been communicating telepathically all her life. Did she even realize what she was doing? And - perhaps the most important question - how was she doing it?
But all of those warm, confusing, delightful, dangerous thoughts were suddenly overshadowed by the impending threat of death, because of course he couldn't just give Rose Tyler a happy, normal Christmas.
"Doctor, wake up!" she demanded, her panic instantly breaking through the haze of the healing coma that shrouded his mind.
He felt the familiar weight of the sonic in his hand as noise and chaos broke out around them, but it was Rose's breath on his skin and her desperate plea in his ear that finally awoke him.
"Help me," she said simply.
And, because it was Rose Tyler and the Doctor could never deny her anything even if he tried, he obeyed.
If he had still been in his old body, the Doctor might have wrapped Rose up in a comforting hug - or, at the very least, taken her hand in his as they moved out of her mum's flat to get a better look at the lurking Santa-bots below. But as it was, he simply tucked his hands into his borrowed dressing gown and focused instead on the threat that loomed before them.
The second time he went unconscious under the power of the healing coma, things became even more heightened than they had been before. His mind was disorientated and reaching out blindly for some sort of connection or reassurance. And Rose was there, as she always was, pouring her own uncontrollable desperation into him whenever her fingers slid over his bare skin.
Wait for me, he begged her silently, unsure if her answering call to him was a response of sorts, or if she were simply blindly reaching back out of her own need to be reassured. Don't leave, Rose, please don't leave me ...
"He's gone," she sobbed, her voice so bereft that it made the Doctor want to scream. Never before had he so wished that he could reverse a regeneration and return to the man that he had been before. But for Rose, he would do anything - and if there were any way in this universe that he could give her that familiar reassurance, he would have done it long ago.
"The Doctor's gone," she continued, her voice tight with tears. "He left me, Mum, he left me ..."
No, Rose, never, I'd never ...
But he knew that he already had. He'd abandoned her here alone to deal with the threat of an alien incursion without any tools or backup or information of any sort. If only she could hear him as he desperately tried to reach into her mind and make contact. He could feel her mental signature there, just out of his reach. If he could just get her to listen ...
The Doctor never stopped trying to reach out and breach that final distance to Rose's mind. Even when his consciousness finally began to solidify and right itself within his head, he never once stopped trying to call out to her.
Rose, Rose, I'm here ...
There was one quick moment where he felt something in her mind slide into place and there was the briefest of connections between them as she turned towards his mental presence.
Doctor ...? she thought in disbelief.
Then the TARDIS doors flew open and he finally had the chance to get a good look at his gorgeous, clever girl again.
"Did you miss me?" he asked cheekily.
Rose's answering smile was like a balm to the Doctor's weary soul and he felt a shock of relief roll through him as he quickly thanked the universe for whatever it was that he had done to deserve her in his life.
There was no more doubt or lingering questions after he soundly and deftly defeated the Sycorax, but there was still a notable distance that remained between him and Rose. His hands were kept constantly busy or tucked away securely in his dressing gown pockets, and if Rose wished for it to be any different, she kept her thoughts to herself as they put a stop to the invasion and sent the hostile aliens packing.
The Doctor spent the rest of the night doing everything within his power to give Rose that normal, human Christmas that he felt she so greatly deserved, and he didn't even care how domestic it may have looked. He might have been able to happily live out the rest of his days in that dingy old flat if it meant that he got to do it with her.
But the Doctor couldn't shake the strange, prickling feeling on the back of his neck as they all ran outside to watch the snow (ash, he corrected them grimly) fall. He could sense something pulling insistently at his time senses like an itch in a place that he couldn't scratch. He had the uncomfortable feeling that he and Rose were quickly approaching a crossroads in their time streams, and one wrong decision could take Rose away from him - possibly forever.
"And what about you? What are you going to do next?" Rose asked him, fidgeting uncomfortably and refusing to meet his eye.
"Well ... back to the TARDIS, same old life," he replied slowly.
"On you own ...?" she asked awkwardly.
"Why, don't you want to come?"
"Well ... yeah ..."
"Do you, though?"
The Doctor didn't know why he was questioning her when he already had her confirmation in hand, but he needed to be certain - needed to know for sure that she still wanted to be with him as desperately as he wanted to be with her.
"Yeah!" Rose replied quickly, no longer hesitating as she looked eagerly up at him.
"Well ... I just thought ... 'cause I changed ..." he muttered haltingly.
"Yeah," she cut him off, "I though 'cause you changed ... you might not want me anymore ..."
Not want Rose Tyler? The very idea was ridiculous to him. How could she even think such a thing? Had her faith in him really been so badly shaken that she had forgotten all of the promises that they had made to one another?
The Doctor's fingers itched to reach for her, to fill her mind with all of his (many, many) wants and desires, but even in this moment he managed to restrain himself. This new body was all about words, but in that moment, the Doctor found himself struggling to find the right ones to say. He knew already that there were really only five that he absolutely, desperately needed to tell her - five words that would change their lives forever.
But this wasn't the time for those words. Not yet, anyway. So instead, the Doctor gave Rose one last offer of safe and familiar as he extended his hand towards her - hoping beyond hope that she would understand that it wasn't just his hand that he was offering her, but his own two hearts served up on a silver platter, just for her.
"That hand of yours still gives me the creeps," she admitted with a teasing smile.
The Doctor only grinned and wiggled his fingers at her - his need to touch her skin a physical, burning pain within him. When she finally relented, he immediately felt the same way that he had back on the Sycorax ship - like something between them was firmly and solidly locking into place. It still wasn't a full mental connection - not yet - but it was like an echo of one, and it made his hearts skip a beat as they smiled at each other and he felt her thoughts tentatively turning towards his.
"So, where're we going to go first?" she asked quietly.
Anywhere, he replied silently. And he knew that she probably wouldn't be able to hear him, but he thought that maybe she just might be able to catch the impression of his thoughts anyway. Anywhere, Rose Tyler, as long as it's with you.