Cradled in the Doctor's lap, Rose began to move her hand languidly over her belly. However, he took her wrist gently and lifted it to kiss her knuckles. The car had stopped; Angus was opening the backseat door.

The Doctor got out gingerly, holding Rose tightly as he walked as steadily and smoothly as possible up the little stone path to the front door. Angus hurried ahead to turn on lights. When they reached the bedroom, the Doctor nodded to his neighbor.

"Thank you," he said.

"You let us know if there's anything we can do, if you need Maggie's help," Atterbury replied somberly. "Anything at all…"

"Yeah." He set Rose upon the bed very gently. With one quick glance back, he added, "I'll come round to check on Mrs. Hudson as soon as I can."

Depositing the bag on the night table, Angus said, "Maggie'll take good care of her. Just focus on your wife right now."

He had every intention of doing precisely that. He didn't even hear his neighbor leave. His gaze was on Rose's face. Her eyelids fluttered as she struggled back to full consciousness. He caressed her cheek tenderly and offered a few encouraging words.

"Everything's fine now. We're home."

She sighed sleepily in response. She remained dazed.

He checked her blood pressure first, finding it the same as earlier in the evening. He spent a little time probing gently over her skull, confirming that, aside from the lump on her brow, there was no injury. He'd get her some ice for the swelling later.

But at the moment, her skin felt quite cool, and he realized that she was beginning to shiver. He needed to remove her wet clothes. He probably should have done that straightaway; he knew that he was trying to postpone the inevitable.

He began with her shoes and socks then moved on to her jeans and knickers. As he slipped the undergarment down her thighs, his hands and eyes searched Rose's pale skin for any signs of blood or amniotic fluid, but thankfully there was nothing but the dampness left by her time in the rain. A little glimmer of relief tried nudge the tightness from his chest, but his mind resisted.

He steadied his hands and peeled her jumper up, noting an angry red scrape over her abdomen. She made a squeak of pain as the garment passed over her left shoulder. He murmured vague words of apology.

As soon as he'd removed the jumper fully, he ran his fingers over her clavicle and scapula then carefully felt about the acromion, coracid process, and neck of the humerus. He could discern no fractures, but he'd take an x-ray later just to be sure. The muscles were definitely strained, as though she'd hit the shoulder quite hard.

He took a few more minutes to examine her limbs again, in case he'd missed anything in his hurried assessment earlier. She had several deep bruises forming on her left thigh and hip, more evidence that she'd either slammed into something or fallen on her left side.

"C…cold," she muttered.

He looked up from her hip. Rose's eyes were open now, her gaze somewhat clearer. Her hand moved automatically to rest over her belly.

He smiled at her as he reached for his flannel pyjama top. "This should help," he said, lifting her gently and helping her into the comfortably worn shirt.

Abruptly she looked down, and her hands clasped tightly over her stomach. "The baby," she said, her voice suddenly filled with panic. "Oh my God. I fell—I fell back, and I don't remember—"

Tears flooded her eyes.

"She's all right, Rose," he told her.

"She feels so still."

He placed his hands over hers, his fingers spreading so that he could touch to tight skin of her belly. "There're no indications of fetal distress. Her heart beat's normal, and there's no sign of abruption or rupture of the amniotic sac."

"Are you—" A sob escaped her. "Are you sure?"

He nodded and reached for the stethoscope. He placed it over her womb, moving it about until he found the strongest sound. Then he tucked the earpieces into her ears.

"Listen," he said softly.

She did as tears flowed down her cheeks. "Oh!"

"Yes. She's safe, Rose. You kept her safe."

She met his gaze. "I didn't mean… I would never put her in danger. But Mrs. Hudson… There was this terrible wind, an' the glass was shaking, an' then the window shattered, an'

I had to do something, had to get her out of the way."

"So you got her into the closet. That was good thinking, Rose."

She gave a single grunt of mirthless laughter. "Dragged, more like. Is she all right?"

"I think so. Maggie's looking after her."

It was a testament to Rose's concern for their child that she did not insist that he go and check on their elderly neighbor. Instead, she said, "We should go to the office so you can do a scan."

"We will, first thing tomorrow. Best thing for you now is to just rest. I'll keep a close eye on her."

He caressed her belly again, and now, with his thoughts settled, he was able to sense their child's budding consciousness. He felt it pulse against his own as a tiny whisper.

"Can you feel her?" Rose asked quietly.

He nodded. "Yes. She's fine."

Rose exhaled slowly and sank back against the pillows. He fastened the top two buttons on the shirt and pulled the blankets up over her hips.

"Be right back," he told her, hopping to his feet and hurrying to the bathroom.

He gathered a few first aid supplies then returned to sit at her side again. She watched with half-closed lids as he gently cleaned the scrape on her stomach. As soon as he'd finished, her hand returned to rest over their daughter.

He dabbed at the lump on her brow. There was a small gash, too, but it wasn't deep and had only bled a little.

"How much does it hurt?" he asked, brushing his fingertips over her eyebrow, careful to avoid touching the wound again.

"Got a bit of a headache," she confessed, "and my shoulder's pretty sore. But as long as she's okay," she paused as her fingers curled over her belly, "I can live with it."

"I know." He kissed her temple.

A low rumble of thunder drew their attention to the window. A soft patter of rain was all that remained of the departing tempest.

"Storm's passing," Rose said sleepily.

"Yes," he agreed, sliding his fingers through hers, "it is."

**

Rose slept heavily throughout the rest of the night and well into the morning. She vaguely recalled slipping into slumber as the Doctor's soft fingertips caressed her aching head. Shortly before dawn she stirred, only to be lulled back to sleep by the feel of her husband's hand resting softly over her belly.

When she finally woke fully, he was sitting beside her with closed eyes, his fingers spread over her bared abdomen. She watched his face; his expression, she knew, was the best indicator of their child's condition.

By the time he opened his eyes and smiled at her, she'd already experienced the warm suffusion of deep relief. He kissed her belly then moved up to brush his lips over hers.

She lay patiently while he checked her blood pressure and fussed a bit over the bump on her head. She obligingly ate the scrambled eggs and toast her brought her and obediently drank her hot cocoa and orange juice.

If his actions were solicitous as he helped her to the bathroom, she didn't mind. After she had dressed in sweats and a roomy jumper, he ushered her to the living room and settled her on the couch while he hurried to the Atterburys' house to check on Mrs. Hudson. Satisfied that the elderly woman was in good hands, he returned to his wife to help her to the car.

They spent the rest of the morning and a portion of the afternoon at the office. Both were quiet during the drive home.

"Bed rest for now," he'd told her.

She changed into pyjamas and crawled into bed without protest. She felt sore and tired. He tucked the blankets beneath her chin then stepped away.

"Doctor," she said softly, extending her hand to him.

He turned to slip his fingers through hers. His expression was tight, and she could see the pain in his eyes.

"It's going to be all right," she whispered.

He nodded then sank to his knees. She lowered his head to her chest, stroking his hair as she felt the heat of his tears against her skin.

**

To be concluded in the epilogue…