A/N: Just so you guys know, I have been hospitalized four times in the past year alone. I know the ins and outs of the mental health system. The majority of the time, people that shouldn't be are hospitalized and the people that really ought to be hospitalized aren't. It's a fucked-up system. I've met loads of people who were hospitalized for reasons very similar to the reasons Rose was hospitalized in this story. It shouldn't be plausible, the system shouldn't work this way, but it does. It's complete shit.

/end rant/

I actually only recently was released from the hospital. I started this fic while I was there. Fun fact: a few other girls that were stuck in there with me gave me a few great ideas for the plot, and a few other patients actually asked if they could be characters in the story! Names have been changed, of course, but they're in here. . .

I would like to say that I am completely open to criticism, I actually find it helpful. However, I would ask that you do not post hate. It's not helpful in the least. I won't continue this story if that's all I'm going to get (and I've put a shit ton of work in to this so that would kind of suck.)

Sorry it has taken me so long to get this chapter up. I'm in the throes of midterms so most of my time is spent studying.

Anyways, this chapter should clear up some questions that you might have, and you get to meet the other patients and experience the joys of group therapy. Whoo!

Day Two

Rose shivered and pulled the blanket tighter around herself. It was unlike the TARDIS to be so cold.

Wait,

Rose jerked up into a sitting position and looked wildly around. Her heart thudded in her chest as she tried to figure out where she was.

Ah, right. I'm in that bloody facility.

Rose groaned and lay back down, pulling the blanket over her head in an attempt to separate herself from the reality of her situation.

"You up?" Charlie asked.

"I wish I wasn't." Rose pulled the blanket back down and sat back up. Charlie was in the same position she had been in when Rose first saw her; hunched up against the wall with her knees up and her notebook resting on her thighs. "Writing another letter?"

"Ding ding ding! With that correct answer Rose wins the competition." She closed her notebook and looked over at Rose. "Let's go see if the phlebotomist is here, but I will warn you getting your blood drawn here isn't exactly a five-star experience."

"Fantastic," Rose grumbled.

They made their way out in to the dayroom and spotted a woman in a lab coat.

"Et, voila!" Charlie gestured grandly towards the woman.

A few minutes later, Rose sat on the couch, grumbling and pressing a piece of cotton to crook of her elbow. She could already see a bruise forming. This wasn't surprising given the amount of digging around in her arm that had been done.

"Hey, at least now you get to experience the joy of walking ten feet down the hallway and eating shitty hospital food in the cold cafeteria." Rose glared at her.

A few more patients trickled into the dayroom, and after a bit an attendant led them through the thick double doors and into the hallway. It was exactly what Charlie told her it would be. Ten feet through the hallway and they were in the cold cafeteria. There was one thing that Charlie had neglected to mention, though. As their group was walking into the cafeteria, an attendant led a group of small children in the opposite direction. Rose gaped. "Um, why are there kids in here?" she asked Charlie.

"They're batty, duh."

"But they're. . ." Rose struggled to find a word that would emphasize how peculiar this was, ". . . they're kids! What on earth are they doing here?" Charlie laughed.

"A lot of them struggle with anger and impulsiveness. Some of them are in here for abusing their parents and—"

"Hold on—abusing their parents?"

"Yeah, they are physically abusive towards their parents and the parents don't want to defend themselves for fear they might hurt their kids." She shrugged. Rose was having trouble with how normally Charlie was speaking about this. For all of the planets she'd been to, all of the monsters and different cultures she had been exposed to, Rose had never been witness to something like this, and definitely not here on Earth. "Come on," Charlie nodded towards the food counter, "it's time to find out what beauty they've cooked up for us on this fine morning."

The 'beauty' turned out to be scrambled eggs, (originating from a powder and colored an unusually bright yellow), and English muffins, (as edible as cardboard). Rose followed Charlie to one of the tables and they sat down in between the other patients.

"Everyone, this is Rose," Charlie pointed to Rose, "Rose, this is everyone," she gestured around the table. "More specifically, this is Neal," she pointed to a dark-skinned beanpole of a guy with a scruffy, pointed face, "Dave," a heavily-blemished teenager with brown hair sticking up in every direction, "Carina," a curvy Hispanic girl with a small mouth and large eyes, "Adam," a small and extremely thin guy with glasses, "Alexa," a heavy, filthy-looking girl with greasy, reddish hair and swollen, droopy eyes, "Gwen," a woman with long honey-blonde hair and a back brace, "Marina," a small, curly-haired and very busty young woman, "Evan," a man that was Disney-prince level of handsome, "and Mark," a thick but muscular guy with a mohawk. They each responded differently to the introduction. One corner of Neal's mouth twitched up in a smile and he waved shyly at her. Dave smiled so widely that Rose thought he was doing it more to expose every one of his bright white teeth rather than to welcome her. Carina gave a quiet smile, while Adam just continued to stare at his food and Alexa merely grunted. Gwen gave Rose a warm, motherly smile and Marina said, "Hello!" Evan waved and Mark gave Rose a lingering once-over, catching her eye and leering. Rose's stomach squirmed uncomfortably and she decided to avoid Mark as much as possible.

"So," Marina began, "which stage is she in?" Rose looked over questioningly at Charlie. Charlie grinned.

"She's got her bracelet and she's getting started on the blanket-wearing." Rose's brow wrinkled with confusion. Marina looked over to her and answered her un-asked question.

"There are certain . . . levels that everyone goes through. It's kind of like the stages of grief, but instead of passing through the different stages, the stages pile on top of each other. It starts with the info bracelet, and then you start wearing a blanket everywhere," she pointed to the blanket wrapped around her shoulders.

"Okay, what are the other stages?" if Rose could deal with blue aliens that spit in your face as a present, she could handle the peculiarities of a psych hospital.

"Hairy legs, no makeup, medication, you memorize the times for group, you pick up medical terms . . . those are the basics. But I have to ask, what are you in here for?"

"Well, I was told that someone called the police and reported me as a dangerous madwoman. I was picked up at the market and taken here."

"Let me guess, you aren't depressed, manic, borderline, schizophrenic, violent, or suicidal, right?"

"Nope."

"Awesome. Just another wasted bed. No offense, Rose, but I hope you get out soon. You don't belong here, and you're just taking the place of someone who really needs to be here."

"Don't worry; I'm with you on that. Does this happen a lot?"

"Sadly, yes. The police here are really stupid and they don't look into whether the reports they get are valid or not. Last week there was a guy here who's girlfriend had called the police and said he was psychotic just because he broke up with her. He was completely normal, just sick of how controlling she was, and he ended up in here. It's ridiculous. But the doctors here aren't stupid, and they usually get you out before 72 hours have passed if you don't belong."

"72 hours? What's that about?"

"If you are reported as being a danger to yourself or others, you're placed on 51-50. It's a three-day hold. They can keep you past that, but I don't think they will in your case," Geneva piped in.

Three days. Three bloody days.

"So the doctor," it felt wrong to use that title to describe anyone but him, "he's the one who decides how long I'm here and medication and stuff?" Geneva, Marina, and Charlie nodded. The others had gone back to their food and their own conversations by this point. "How soon will I get to see him, d'ya think?"

"Most likely in an hour or two. One of your patient rights is to see a psychologist within twenty-four hours of your admittance," Charlie said through a mouthful of eggs and ketchup. Rose let out a breath she didn't know she had been holding. She could convince the psychologist she doesn't belong in the facility and she would be released.

Rose, getting out of the facility won't bring the Doctor back, a nasty voice in her head said. He left you here because he doesn't want to deal with you anymore. You're just a pink-and-yellow ape to him. Remember meeting Sarah Jane? He ditched her, didn't he? What makes you think you're so special, so different?

She remembered his ninth regeneration; when he first took her hand and told her to "Run!" with that manic grin of his. And the next day when he told her who he was, he took her hand again. Later that same day they were running with terror and exhilaration in their veins, and they clasped hands. It was a sign—that third time—that their hands found each other even when it was most inconvenient. It's not wise to hold hands while running, it's almost a plea to the universe to cause one to trip, but they did it anyways. After Cassandra, that bitchy trampoline that called herself human, had stretched and splattered the room with her remnants, they watch the Earth's pieces float through space and his hand found hers. When they thought they were to going to be killed by the Gelth, the Doctor had told her, "I'm so glad I met you," and there came that unholy palmers' kiss again. This joining of hands became second nature to them. And then he went and called them both fantastic and changed to someone different. But he woke up from his post-regeneration sleep when she said, "Help me," into his ear. And when they stood in front of the TARDIS with the ash from the spaceship above floating down like snow, he gave her his still-new smile and their hands came together. He may have changed but they as a unit remained the same.

Have anything to say to that, hmm? The nasty voice was silent.

As promised, when they were sitting on the dayroom floor and playing cards, one of the three psychologists approached her. He was tall, with a beer belly, round glasses and a short, center-parted haircut from a much different era.

"Miss Tyler?" he looked at her, questioningly, "can I speak with you?" Rose excused herself and followed the psychologist to one of the private rooms.

"Hello," he said once they were settled in the tiny room, "I'm Dr. Ross. How are you doing?"

I'm stuck in the loony bin, the Doctor is gone, and I have no idea how I'm going to get out of here. I'm not okay. I'm really, really not okay.

"I'm okay."

"Alright, then, let's start with the basics. Do you worry continually almost every day about big and small problems, situations, events, and/or activities?"

"Nope."

"Do you have upsetting or distressing thoughts, impulses, or images that happen in your mind over and over again?"

"Nope."

"Has there ever been a period of time when you were not your usual self and you felt so good or so hyper that other people thought you were not your normal self or you were so hyper that you got into trouble? A period of time when you were so irritable that you shouted at people or started fights or arguments?"

"No and no."

"How is your mood?"

Decent and upbeat unless there's danger or the Doctor's missing.

"Pretty upbeat."

"Do you hear voices or see things that others don't?"

"Not that I know of."

"How is your sleep?"

"Fine when I get it. But often things get in the way and I don't get to sleep too much."

"What gets in the way?"

Being jailed, enslaved, running for my life, saving the world. The usual.

"Taking care of my friends."

"Do your friends often need your help? Are you the person that tends to take care of things for others?"

"Yeah, I suppose."

"You know, Rose," he set down his notepad and looked up at her, "sometimes you've got to let people deal with their own problems so that you can take care of yourself."

A) If I didn't step in people would die and B) someone has to help the Doctor carry the weight of the universe.

Maybe you're more of a hindrance than a help, idiot. Maybe that's why he's gone.

"Rose? Is something the matter?"

"Sorry, I-I was just thinking about a friend."

"Is he one of the friends that depend on you?"

"No. He's the one that helps me. Well, he used to—I" Rose stopped, feeling tears forming. She tried to blink them away, but they welled over and rolled down her cheeks. A strangled sound escaped her and she clamped her hand over her mouth, embarrassed that she was crying in front of a stranger and furious that the disappearance of the Doctor had shaken her so badly.

"It's okay, Rose. Really." He pushed a box of tissues across the table towards her and she took it gratefully. It took her a moment, but she calmed herself down and cleaned up her face.

"Sorry, it's just that my friend, John, he disappeared. I was at the market and this happened and I haven't been able to reach him—no one has—and that's so unlike him. He's always there."

"Well, I don't know about your friend, but I know you'll be okay. You seem remarkably stable, if a little shaken, and I know you shouldn't be here. I will try to get you out as soon as I can. But, Rose, take advantage of the situation. This place is here to help people and with all that you sacrifice of yourself to help others, I think it will be good for you to have the chance to get support from us." Rose nodded, not trusting her voice after crying.

"Okay, you should probably head on out. I don't want you to be late for group."

Dr. Ross led Rose to the group room. The other patients were already there, seated around the large white table. The only available seat was next to Gwen and Mark. Rose groaned inwardly. Gwen seemed lovely, but Mark not so much. She steeled herself, and sat down. She had bested many a monster and aliens bent on world (and sometimes universe) domination. She knew she could deal with a creep for a bit. Mark leaned his chair back onto its two back legs and smirked at her. She hoped he'd fall over.

"Hello! For those who don't know me, I'm Keira." She gave the room a small wave. Everything about her seemed so very young, from her pink-rimmed glasses to her mousy-brown ponytail to her bright pink sweater and ending with her pouty lip-glossed mouth and upturned nose.

I wear pink, but, man, that's excessive.

"This is supposed to be your social worker-led group, but Lupita is sick, so I'll be standing in. I'm a psychology intern here. Alright," she said, turning to the whiteboard behind her, "today we're going to be working on interpersonal relations. That means skills that will help you deal with those around you. The skill we're working on today is GIVE. That stands for be gentle, act interested, validate, and easy manner." Keira wrote this out on the board.

"This skill is most helpful during intense conversations. You need to be gentle with the other person because during challenging conversations people tend to jump and lash out at the smallest thing, whether intentional or unintentional. Now for act interested, it's 'act' because you don't actually have to be interested, but if you want someone to listen to you, you have to listen to them. Acting interested can help you focus on what the other person is saying rather than zoning out and risk missing something important. Validation may be the most important part of this. It doesn't have to be a lot, you just need to show that you care, without being overbearing. Say your friend is upset with you for lying to them. Recognize that whether it's true or not. Show that you see why they are upset. For example, you could say 'I see that you are upset because I lied to you.' If you didn't really lie to them, you still need to start with that, to show that you aren't just being defensive. Then you can say something like, 'I would like you to know that I did not lie to you.' It needs to be simple, and then you can explain from there. Then there's the 'easy manner' part. Often during conversations, the intensity builds and builds. To avoid the intensity escalating to the point where neither of you are able to manage a clear conversation, keep an easy manner. If the other person attempts to rile you up, keep calm and keep your statements simple. That's the only way you will be able to get your point across." Keira approached the table and set the pens down.

"We're going to do a roleplaying exercise," she said and Dave groaned. He wasn't the only one who wasn't too excited about this.

"Pair up with the person next to you," she continued, ignoring the obvious discontent in the room. Marina turned to Gwen and Gwen nodded to her, casting Rose a sympathetic look. It was Rose's turn to groan. Mark grinned.

"One of you is upset with the other because they lent the other person something and they haven't gotten it back. Go."

"I want my heart back, Rosie, baby. I didn't mean to lend it to you, you stole it when you first showed up in here," he said to her with puppy-dog eyes and a pout.

Keep your cool, "Rosie, baby" Don't let him get to you. You're better than he is.

"I see that you have misplaced your ability to flirt and now have to result to leers and pathetic come-ons. It appears that you are upset because you think that I have in some way 'stolen your heart,'" she 'validated gently.' "Believe me, you insignificant creep, I don't want anything to do with you. Your heart is not in my possession. It probably ran away from you to find someone who was actually capable of love and decency. Remember, 'Markie, baby,' hearts are like Thor's hammer; only those who deserve them can have them. Sucks for you." He looked like he had swallowed a lemon.

"Well done, Rose. That was perfectly executed if a little sharp. But in this case I think it was well-deserved and to the point," Keira said from behind Rose. "And you did a good job, too, Mark. You really pulled off the whole disgusting-and-desperate-loser act." Rose bit down on her lip to keep from laughing. Mark turned away in a huff, refusing to look at either of the women that had so thoroughly beaten him.

Now, this? This I can do. After Jimmy Stone, I can handle anyone. And damn, Keira isn't as naïve as I took her to be.

Rose turned back away from Mark to face the whiteboard where Keira was now standing. Gwen and Marina were staring at her questioningly. Rose mouthed, "Later," and turned to Keira as she started talking again.

"That's it for this group, guys, it's lunchtime."

They filed out of the room, but Rose made sure she was the last one in the room. "Thanks," she said to Keira.

"A dick is a dick. No matter what he has going on with him, it doesn't give him the excuse to be a creep. You handled him well, putting him in his place without getting nasty and taking it too far. I'm impressed."

"You know, I wouldn't have expected the people here to be so nice an' all. I thought it would be a bit more, you know, cold."

"And where would that get anyone? Well, honestly, you got lucky that you ended up here. This is the best facility in the region. Most of the other places are pretty much what you'd expect them to be. The system is really only focused on averting crises. So they lock people up for a few days and cross their fingers that they don't do anything once they're out. It's really terrible, but the people here try to make it different. It's not perfect, but it's what we can do."

The Doctor would try to hug everyone here, Rose thought as she joined the others in the hall.

Sitting with the other women in the dining room, Rose felt okay. It was weird, no doubt about it. The almost completely nonresponsive patients kind of freaked her out, and she was constantly wondering what the others were hospitalized for, but she was feeling more like herself. She hadn't changed history or anything, but she was glad she could still put someone in their place on her own. She had gotten so overtaken with anxiety she had forgotten she was perfectly able to take care of herself on her own. The psychic paper, the sonic screwdriver, the Doctor's oversized idiot-brain and the TARDIS were a Godsend in times of crisis, but she had done perfectly well before the Doctor came along. She could handle anything that regular old human life threw at her.

"What happened during group earlier?" asked Marina. Rose fondly recalled the event, happy to lure out a few laughs from those surrounding her.

Lunch passed peacefully, and it was quiet time when they returned to the unit. Rose decided to shower.

"I don't suppose we're allowed shaving razors, are we?" Charlie laughed and shook her head.

Rose went into the bathroom to undress. Running her hand over her leg, she yelled to Charlie, "I feel like a wooly mammoth! Is this facility some great ploy to turn us into animals for the slaughter?"

"If it is, they're succeeding in the transformation, but not fattening us up. We aren't going to be very tasty with what they feed us," Charlie yelled back.

Rose laughed and got in the shower. It was a frustrating experience; no matter how she turned the dial, she couldn't get it to be anything other than freezing cold or blistering hot and there was absolutely no water pressure. To avoid melting the skin off her bones, she settled for freezing cold. Surprisingly, it wasn't entirely unpleasant. The water trickled down her skin, soothing her as it startled her into alertness. She felt awake, as though she had been in a fog and it was finally lifting.

You're going to get out of this. Dr. Ross said he would get you out of here.

Smiling, she hopped out of the shower, dried herself off, and pulled her clothes back on. She went back into the room and plopped down on her bed. Charlie was in her usual position, scribbling in her notebook.

"Read one to me," she said, "I'll probably never see you again, so what's the harm?" Charlie's eyes widened and she gaped at Rose, her cheery, humorous façade completely absent.

"I—I never—gah," she stammered.

"Come on," Rose plied, "you can't keep everything in your life stuffed in that notebook. It's going to explode all over one day, or you over it. You might as well start by reading one to me." Charlie stared at her, expressionless. She stayed like that for so long that Rose began to wonder if she had gone catatonic. Then, Charlie gave a barely noticeable consenting twitch of her head. She curled up even tighter and began to read.

"Mona,

It has been over a year since we first met at Doughty's Books. For the first few months, nothing seemed particularly unusual. I would come to the bookstore every morning when it opened at nine. I didn't wonder why I was so drawn there; it seemed pretty obvious. With all the time I spent traveling around, there was no one constant around me. I hadn't had a dependable friend in years, so of course I loved being able to see the same person every day. I would sit in the chair in the corner and whenever you got the chance you would ditch the register and come over to sit with me. We would start the day by talking about Jeffrey Eugenides and Neil Gaiman and David Benioff, then, before lunch you would pick out a book at random and come over and bring it to me to read until your lunch break. Then we would go to the café next door and I would get the egg-salad sandwich and you would get the minestrone soup and I would tell you about the book. Then came the day when you handed me a book of erotica. You didn't even look at it before handing it to me, so I know you didn't know what it was. It was an amusing read. I'm not a virgin; I had many opportunities for experimentation while I was away from home. I had just never found it particularly wondrous or anything like that. Sure, it was enjoyable and it was a release but it never meant anything to me. So I read the book for a giggle, looking forward to seeing your face when I would describe the read for you over lunch. But one of the later stories caught me by surprise. It was about two friends—two women—who decided that they wanted to try having sex with one another. Remember how I slammed the book shut? It was so loud that you looked up from the register in surprise. I was blushing furiously and I practically ran out of the store. I spent the rest of the day working out, trying to sweat out my confusion. The next day, I pretended nothing had happened and when you asked about it I just said I hadn't felt well. You believed me, and we continued our routine. But ever since then, I've felt different. The damned book made me curious. I had never had sex with a girl, I hadn't even considered it. A week later I went out to a bar, met a nice woman, and we went to bed. It was enjoyable, like my other times, but it still felt empty. That's when I realized that I was wishing she was you; that I didn't just want sex, I wanted it to mean something and I wanted it to mean something with you. And ever since then, even though I've continued as I always have, I've been riddled with fear. My anxiety has shot through the roof. I know we have become close; our conversations have gone way past books and into our personal lives. I don't understand myself. I have never thought about women this way before. Never in my life has there been the slightest hint that I might desire that. So now I don't know what to do with myself and last week I just couldn't stop thinking and thinking and thinking and I found a bottle of aspirin and I downed it and whoop-de-doo I'm back in the hospital and you're probably wondering where I am or maybe you're not and that's what terrifies me, that's why I could never tell you any of this. I just don't know."

Charlie closed the notebook but didn't look up. Rose was in shock. She has considered all sorts of things that might be contained in that notebook, but definitely not that. She wasn't uncomfortable, she was glad to find. This was just new for her. She knew of people that were gay, but she didn't actually know anyone that was. This was new territory for her, but it was new territory for Charlie, too.

"It's okay, Charlie, completely okay. Just breathe and listen to me. You'll figure this out. I'll help you figure this out." Charlie let out a long breath and looked to Rose. Rose gave her a warm smile, but there was a tightness in her chest that she didn't like.

Hit a little close to home, didn't it? Ah, the nasty voice was back.

What, a book of erotica? I don't think so.

Nice try, but I'm a part of your head. I know how you feel about the Doctor.

Oh, fudge.

"Rose?"

"Ah, sorry, I just—I have this friend. Sorta like you, I guess," she admitted.

"The one you travel with?"

"Yeah, that's the one."

"Hey, it may be awkward, but you've got to count your blessings. At least he's a guy, so you get to avoid the whole sexuality-crisis thing." Rose laughed.

Well, mostly a guy. A guy with two hearts and a changing face.

Doesn't matter, he ditched ya.

Go away, asshole.

Hey, watch it, that's your head you're insulting.

"Yeah, well, I've got my own crisis. He's gone." Rose tried to smile, to make it a joke, but it was pathetic and she knew it.

"What do you mean, 'gone'?"

"Like, I end up in here and all of a sudden no one can reach him." Charlie sat and thought for a moment, her nose scrunched in contemplation.

"Well, that is a bit dodgy, but there's probably a reason behind it. Maybe a family crisis?" Rose snorted.

"'E doesn't have a family. They're all gone."

"Oh," Charlie's nose scrunched up again, "well, we can't mope around forever, can we?"

"Says the girl who has spent the past God knows how long moping!" Charlie laughed, her face bright and open. It was the first time Rose had seen her so, well, okay.

"Well, you've inspired me. We've both got a bit of a shit romantic life at the moment, but we can deal. I promise to try and accept what I'm feeling and be honest about it if you do the same. Maybe this'll end badly, but hey, it's worth a try." Rose shrugged, the Doctor was already gone, it couldn't get much worse.

"It's a deal." Charlie grinned.

"Your turn then," Charlie waggled her eyebrows.

"What?"

"Well, I spilled my little gay soul, so it's your turn to embarrass yourself."

"Alright then, his names the—John. John. So, as I said, we travel together. We run into trouble pretty much every day, and we take turns saving each other. For the first year it was fantastic, just fantastic. We got closer and closer and met wonderful people and crazy people. We saw fantastic and terrible things. We even danced. Then one day, we got ourselves in some deep shit. He tried to get me out of there, but I knew that without me he was going to die. So I came back as fast as I could and saved the day. Ever since then, things have been a little different. Not bad, just. . .different. We're closer than ever now but he's so hard to read that I can't tell if he wants more or not. I know I do, he's foxy and brilliant." They both laughed, but Charlie shook her head.

"I feel like such a little nerd compared to you. I spend my days in a bookstore while you travel about kicking ass and taking names. You're a superhero!" Rose giggled and there was a knock at the door. Dr. Ross stepped inside the room.

"Rose I have good news: you're free as a bird. Let's go clear some things up first, though." Rose was shocked, she knew she wasn't meant to stay, but she was almost getting used to the place.

Dr. Ross sat across Rose in one of the small rooms and handed her a form.

"Everyone has to fill out a safety plan before they go. Check off all of the skills that you've learned in group and write down the names of people you can call when you need help. Then write down the motivation you have for keeping yourself safe and out of the hospital. Sign there." Rose did as she was told.

"Okay, so tell me, how has it been for you here?"

"It was strange at first, but I got used to it and I've actually learned a lot here."

"Good!" Dr. Ross smiled. "What did you learn?" Rose listed off the skills she had learned during the group sessions.

"And talking to people here, I realized that I need to start being honest about how I'm feeling and what I'm thinking. I'll never accomplish anything if I don't stand up for myself."

"You, my dear, are going to be okay. I can't promise you a life of sunshine and frolicking through fields, but I know that you'll get through whatever comes your way."

"Thank you." Dr. Ross smiled again and ripped off the carbon copy of the safety form. Handing her the top sheet.

"Keep this close. I'll call your mother—Jackie?" Rose nodded. "I'll tell her you're free to go, and I'll give you some bags so you can go pack up."

Back in the room, Rose turned to Charlie.

"Thank you. You welcomed me here and made this whole situation a whole lot less scary than it could have been." Rose picked a pen up from the table between the beds. "Give me your hand." She scribbled her number on Charlie's palm. "Write that number in your notebook and don't lose it. You can call me whenever you want. Whether you need help or you just want to chat or you want to meet up, anything." Charlie nodded. A second later they were wrapped tight in a hug.

"Thank you," Charlie mumbled into her shoulder. "You're the first person who I've told about Mona, about all of that." She pulled back and looked at Rose. "You didn't freak out and you just said it would be okay and that was the first time in ages I felt like things would be alright. Now I know that if I'm honest I'll feel better. Not perfect, but better. Thank you for being so amazing."

"Well, I am a superhero after all."

"'Bye, Rose."

"'Bye, Charlie."

Rose met her mother by the nursing station and an attendant led them outside. The sky wasn't clear but Rose was so used to being inside that what little sun there was stung at her eyes. Jackie took her hand and they got in the car. They didn't talk on the way home.

It wasn't until they were sitting down to eat dinner that Rose said anything.

"I'm in love with the Doctor."

"The nine-hundred-year-old alien freak?"

"That's the one."

"I know. But still, that's one hell of an age gap."

They continued their dinner, Rose relishing the non-hospital food in front of her, and Jackie babbling on about Bev's recent boyfriend crisis and some scandal that was on the telly. After dinner, they sat down to watch TV, but Rose wasn't paying any attention.

"Hey, mum? I'm gonna go for a walk. I need to get outside and clear my head."

A/N: The traditional hospital schedule has been modified by yours truly to fit the story. I really didn't want to write up the massive amount of therapy that psych facility patients go through. It's seriously excessive. Another thing: the skills taught in the group sessions are real-life dialectical-behavior therapy skills that have been rammed in my head by multiple therapists and DBT specialists. Surprisingly, they do help. Feel free to try them out sometime. If you are wondering if or when the Doctor reappears, soon, darlings, soon . . .