Finding His Reason

Chapter 10 - Sunrise

He leaned up on his elbow, his temple resting against his loose fist as he looked down at the girl lying next to him in the bed. He watched her chest rise and fall as she breathed, and smiled when she turned toward him. The girl remained asleep as she shifted, her hand moving to lie over his right heart. He lifted his hand to her face, smoothed her hair back over her shoulder. He whispered to her when she released a breathy moan, and watched silently as her eyes fluttered open.

"Doctor?" Rose sighed his name as she blinked up at him, the remnants of sleep blurred her vision.

"You humans sleep your life away," he teased her softly and grinned at her sleepy smile.

"How long was I out?" she asked as she curled closer to him and closed her eyes.

"You're not actually going back to sleep again, are you?" he asked her as she snuggled closer against him.

"I'm comfortable," Rose argued, her tone teasing and relaxed. "You didn't answer my question," she reminded him and laughed softly at the whispered touches against her cheek. "Hello, Blue."

She had been asleep for two days, he told her. His words didn't appear to surprise her at all. She didn't react, but he soon learned why. Comfortable indeed, he thought as he looked down at Rose. She was asleep once more, her face tucked into his chest and her arm curled around his waist. Blue rested on the pillow above her head, the flower lying over her to brush her cheek with the thin gold ribbons from its center.

The Doctor wrapped his arm around her back, tucking Rose closer to him as he glanced up at Blue. He moved the flower from the pillow down to rest between them. No matter how small or tight the space was, Blue always sang more sweetly when he rested between their bodies. He didn't need to sleep, The Doctor thought, but he had grown fond of holding Rose while she slept. When had stillness become his friend? He had never been able to remain still for long before, but now, with Rose, there was no place he would rather be.

"I told you," Rose mumbled softly as she nuzzled her face against his chest, "I'm not sleeping. I'm just comfortable."

"Liar," he teased her. "I can hear the dream dust in your voice."

"Dream dust?" she asked as she turned her head up to look at him.

"Mendaline Four," he told her and lifted his eyebrows in a shrug. "There's this flower there that blooms only at midnight. The pollen comes out, this fine gold dust like Blue blows on us sometimes, it's a natural sedative and is said to induce the most pleasant dreams."

"Never any nightmares?" she asked curiously, and watched as he smiled softly.

"Never. The pollen is used for curing nightmares, actually," he told her and saw her eyes darken for only a moment before she blinked away the memories that haunted her. "I wish I could take you there," he told her, a sad smile pulling at the side of his mouth.

"Why can't you?" Rose asked as her eyes began to droop, and The Doctor knew then that she wasn't far from sleep.

"The planet burned a few centuries ago," he told her as he chaffed his thumb against her back and felt her shiver. "Cold?"

"Not so much," she told him with a dreamy sigh. "Can't we go back to before it burned?"

The Doctor shook his head as he laid his head down on his arm. He told her that they couldn't go back to that planet. He had been there only once, helped the people to solve a centuries old feud between the races of the planet. After though, once peace had been found, he discovered that the planet had found a new source for their anger - him. Time Lords were not welcomed on that planet. He laughed when she suggested that they go back to a time before he had first gone there, but he denied her. He kissed her temple as they settled into each other, his arms tightened around her back as he held her close.

"Robert Frost?" she requested as she drifted closer to sleep.

"You think I'm going to just give in and quote you poetry because you ask me to?" he teased her, and Rose gave a breathy laugh.

"You've never said no," she teased him back and listened to his heavy sigh.

"S'pose I haven't."

She smiled when he tucked her closer, and nuzzled her face against his chest when he began to speak. His voice was soft, his cadence steady as he lulled her into sleep. The warmth of her body against his, the feel of her single heart beating through her side soothed him into stillness. He found himself in a state that wasn't quite sleep, and wasn't conscious either, but a beautiful place in between that made him believe he could share her dreams. He closed his eyes as he buried his nose in her hair and allowed the peacefulness of the moment to surround him.

:::::

"TARDIS needs a part," The Doctor said without looking up from the console.

Rose shook her head as she grinned. He hadn't looked up, hadn't greeted her. He could easily have been talking to himself, but she knew that he had spoken to her. She greeted him as she stepped out of the hallway and moved up to stand at his side. The planet he needed to go to wasn't friendly to humans at all. She couldn't simply stay in the TARDIS, he told her as he met her gaze. Which meant that she would be able to spend a few days with her mother. She chuckled when he rolled his eyes as he turned away, the lopsided grin that bent his lips comforted her.

"She'll like that," Rose said, her smile falling a bit.

"You won't?" he asked at her frown.

"No, it's not that," Rose said and shook her head. "I'm just tired. Shouldn't be, I slept long enough."

"You're not getting sick, are you?" he asked her as he landed the TARDIS.

"Doubtful," Rose teased him. "Though, if Mum tries to make me her famous chicken soup, I might be," she said.

The Doctor chuckled as he rolled his eyes at her. He couldn't turn away from her, couldn't resist the joy her wide smile brought him, and watched as her tongue peeked out to curl up and touch her canine. He felt his lips turn up in a smile of his own, and wondered once more how it was that she could command his hearts so easily. She was human. She was fragile. Her life was fleeting at best, yet she made him feel more alive and invigorated than he ever had before. He turned away before she could see the truth in his eyes, the truth he tried so desperately to hide.

The TARDIS felt the mood shift, and smiled as she watched Blue respond to the joy and peace that filled the air. The stalk and leaves of the plant seemed to stretch and the color became a brighter emerald that almost seemed to glow. The bulb of the sentient flower opened wide, the petals vibrated as the two thin gold strings came out of the center to dance in front of it. Rose laughed as the strings tickled her chin, her hold on the flower tightened as she hugged Blue close to her chest.

"I wish I could take you with me, Blue," she spoke to the flower and rubbed her thumb over the place where the blub of the flower met the stalk. "Mum wouldn't know what to do, and I'm fairly certain Mickey would try to destroy you. They don't understand you like we do."

"Your flower will be fine," The Doctor told her, and stepped toward her. "You're not going to spend an hour saying goodbye to it, are you?"

"Him," Rose corrected, "and no. I'm just going to miss him, is all."

"He'll be fine, Rose," he promised her with a frown. "I'm coming back for you."

"I know," she told him as she set Blue down on the console and watched as the flower stretched toward her.

Do you, Rose? The Doctor wanted to ask the question aloud, but some part of him held back. She hadn't asked him for her tea, not since the incident with her father, and he feared that she was distancing herself from him. He had thought that letting her wake up on the planet had calmed her fears, but what if it hadn't? Did she still fear that he meant to leave her behind? He closed his eyes as his mind conjured up the image of him kissing her, and he forced the fantasy down until it was hidden within the forgotten recesses of his mind. There were so many similar images tucked away inside of his mind, and he knew that he was a fool if he thought he could keep them hidden forever.

Her scent had surrounded him when they had woken earlier that day. She had still be sleeping in his arms when it had taken control, and he didn't know he had to be able to lay beside her and not kiss her awake. He was playing with fire, and each moment he grew closer to being burned. He was touching the flames, and it was by the grace of luck that he had yet to see the mark of the fire on his palm. He smiled when she met his gaze, and led her out of the TARDIS. He stilled when he heard her groan of pleasure, and fisted his hand to control the feeling her moan caused within him. A moment later, he caught the scent of the chips and laughed when he realized that it was the food she had made the sound for.

"Fancy some chips, Rose Tyler?" he asked and felt his hearts warm under the power of her smile.

"Thought you'd never ask," she teased him, and held his hand as they walked through the street.

Neither one noticed the person that watched them from across the street. His eyes narrowed as he watched The Doctor and Rose disappear into the crowd of pedestrians. He dropped his gaze after a moment and shook his head. Some part of him had known, he told himself as he walked away. On some level, he had known that he had lost Rose the moment that they had fought against the plastic aliens. He had wanted to run, had wrapped his arms around Rose's legs to keep her safe, but her gaze had never left The Doctor. She had stepped away from him and swung around on a chain to save the life of another alien.

The first time she had left with the man, she had been gone for a year. This time, Mickey walked slowly up the flights of stairs that led to Jackie's flat. This time Rose had been gone for almost a month. Seconds, she had promised them, days maybe, but a month? She loved it, Mickey thought. He knew she loved it, because her eyes sparkled and her cheeks would flush. He had never seen her that elated, that alive. Not in the entire time that they had been together, and never once before she had met Jimmy. She loved The Doctor, truly and completely loved him, but he wondered if she knew that. Did she know how she looked when she talked about him? Did she know how her eyes sparkled and love would fill her hazel eyes when she looked at The Doctor?

"Rose is back," Mickey said in lieu of greeting when Jackie opened the door. "Doctor's with her."

Jackie stared at Mickey's back as he walked into the flat and sat down on the sofa. She shook her head as she turned away from the door, and let it close behind her with a dull, almost lazy thud. It wasn't the first time that he had come over to the flat unannounced, though it wasn't as though she did much. She called to Mickey as she entered the kitchen and offered to make him a cuppa, but rolled her eyes when he asked for a bit of something stronger instead.

"Mickey," she chided him as she set down a beer in front of him. "You need to let her go. I love you, we both do, but Rose..."

"Don't start, Jackie." He sighed heavily as he leaned back against the couch. "She's the one."

"No, she's not," Jackie interrupted him. "She's the one you've known the longest. She's the one girl who talked to you in school, and the first one to kiss you, but Mickey... You said it yourself, The Doctor invited her with him and she left you without a single thought. I'm not sayin' what she did was right, but she left you."

"So what, Jacks?" he asked, the words exploding from him with equal parts frustration and hopelessness.

"Mick - "

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the front door opening, and Rose calling out to her. She could hear the low voice of The Doctor behind her, Rose's laugh sounding a moment later. Jackie looked back at Mickey with a silent sigh before she stood from the couch and moved to greet her daughter. It had been too long since she was home, and for all her assurances that they were fine, she knew there had to be some kind of danger in their travels. She hugged Rose tightly before she moved to The Doctor and pulled him in for a quick hug before he could back away from her grasp. He shuddered once she released him and brushed his hands down over his leather coat as though he were smoothing out the wrinkles.

Rose glanced at him from the side and laughed quietly. She knew how he felt about Jackie's hugs. He was usually better about avoiding them, but she had been between him and the door. There was no place for him to move to, and it made her laugh even more when he gave her a side glance and a long suffering sigh. Rose frowned when they moved into the front room, her eyes focused on Mickey as he stood from the couch and moved toward her. The hug he gave her wasn't as friendly or loving as it usually was, but possessive instead. He squeezed her tighter for a moment before pulling back and kissing her.

She didn't understand his reactions, but her mother was already talking a mile a minute and didn't seem to be stopping anytime soon. Her attention was drawn away by The Doctor, his hand on her elbow as he leaned close to speak low in her ear. He promised to return to her soon, but he did have to leave to get the parts he needed for the TARDIS. She turned her head and nodded at him, her gaze meeting his for a moment. Jackie knew the very moment that she looked at her daughter and The Doctor, that they were both in deeper than they knew. She knew love when she saw it, but she wondered if either of them had admitted it to each other or even themselves. How many times had Rose insisted that they were just friends when they talked on the phone?

"So, he's just gone and left you again?" Mickey asked Rose, the words coming out harsher than he had intended.

"Are you having a bad day, Mickey, or did I do something special to wind you up?" Rose asked him, her brows drawn together in an expression of confusion.

"You could've called, you know," he shot back as he moved around her and headed for the door.

"I have called you!" Rose shouted at him, his foul mood making her defensive. "Mickey!" she called after him as he left the flat, the door closed behind him with a thud.

"Let him go, Rose," Jackie said as she handed her daughter a cup of tea.

"What's his problem?" Rose asked as she followed her mother into the front room and sat down on the couch. "I just got home."

"Rose." Jackie shook her head as she looked down at her tea and sighed. "We both know that home no longer means this flat to you. Maybe that's what's got Mickey so wound up."

"What?" she asked, and grimaced at the flavor of the tea.

It was too dark, too dry, and not at all what she wanted. The morning before she and the Doctor had gone back into her past was the last time she could remember having her chocolate tea. This tea her mother had made didn't taste right, or appeal to her in any manner. If she were to be honest, it tasted a bit like dishwater. She looked up at the sound of her mother's voice and set her tea down on the low table between them. She couldn't remember the last time she had any of her chocolates either, but guessed it was around the same time. How long ago had that been, she wondered.

"Go to bed, Rose," Jackie said for the second time and watched as her daughter frowned. "You're about to fall asleep where you are. What is that Doctor of yours not letting you sleep at all?"

"I'm fine, Mum," Rose said with a dismissive laugh. "I've been doing nothing but sleeping."

It was true, Rose thought. She had been asleep for almost fourteen hours in The Doctor's arms, or so he had told her. She shouldn't feel tired at all, but for some reason, the few sips of the tea she had consumed made her feel as though all her energy had been sapped away in an instant. Her head ached, and her nose felt congested. Even her chest was beginning to hurt, and before she could stop herself, she began to cough with the next breath she took. Jackie was at her side a moment later, her arms wrapped around her shoulders as she helped Rose up from the couch.

"All that travelin' has made you sick, Rose," her mother insisted as she helped her to her room.

"Ba-bathroom," Rose stuttered as her stomach rebelled.

She'd had her mother's tea plenty of times before, and not once had she had a reaction like this. It felt that everything she had ate was climbing up the back of her throat, and she began to cough as she broke free of her mother's hold and ran for the bathroom. She closed the door seconds before she got sick, her hair held back in one hand as her body trembled from the force of her illness. It felt like hours that she had been sick, but she was certain only minutes had passed, when her stomach finally settled. She was too exhausted to be sick any longer, and knew without doubt that there could be nothing left to bring up.

Rose panted as she closed the lid and reached up the flush the sick away, her body drained of energy. It was difficult to stand, and even harder to force herself to move to the sink and rinse her mouth. She felt exhausted, ready to fall down, and the pounding behind her eyes grew worse. She was grateful to her mother when Jackie wrapped her arms around her waist and helped her to her room. Her eyes closed when they stopped beside her bed, and she listened to the rustling of fabric as Jackie pulled back the covers for her to climb under.

"You've got the flu, no doubt," Jackie said as she took off Rose's shoes and tucked her daughter into the bed. "And don't try to tell me it was the tea, either. I drank some before I gave it to you, it was just how you've always liked it."

Rose was asleep before Jackie had finished speaking, sweat beaded upon her brow. Her daughter wasn't fevered, at least not that she could tell. Jackie frowned as she touched Rose's face again, using both hands to determine that instead of feeling fevered, Rose felt cold. Cold and clammy, but that was expected, she guessed. She had just been sick after all. Smoothing her daughter's hair back from her face, she watched her sleep for a moment longer before stepping out of the room and closing the door behind her. How could The Doctor not have know that Rose was this sick? He was a doctor, wasn't he? Surely, he should have seen some kind of sign.

:::::

"Rose."

The soft whisper above her called her attention, but the only sound she could respond with was a groan. Her body protested the movement when she felt herself being lifted from the bed. The loss of the blankets left her instantly cold, but no matter how hard she tried, she could never fully wake. Her eyes refused to open, a whimper drawn from her as a light was turned on near her. There were voices talking around her, but she couldn't make out their words clearly enough to understand what was being said.

She tried to protest when she felt someone removing her clothes, but her body refused to respond to her demands. She whimpered again as the pounding in her head increased, and felt somewhat thankful when her bra and panties were left in place. She was lifted once more into the strong arms that held her, the smell of the chest she was held against familiar and comforting. She tried to draw in a breath to speak, but was silenced by a wave of rattling coughs that shook her frame and seized her lungs.

"I am a doctor," he growled low, his blue eyes hard as ice as The Doctor stared down Jackie Tyler. "You're not nearly strong enough to carry her to the bath, let alone lower her into it and take her out of it again."

"She's my daughter," Jackie argued back.

"Doctor," Rose called out, her voice a strangled, aching whisper.

"I'm here, Rose," he shushed her gently. "I've got you." He looked back up at Jackie, his gaze daring her to argue with him, and watched as she gave in with a frustrated sigh. "Her fever has to be brought down, and this is the only way to do it safely," he told the woman again. "Go get the water bottles ready. She's going to need a warm bed after this bath."

The corners of his mouth were pinched in a frown, his dislike of Jackie grew with each moment. He had been gone for two days, believing it to be enough time for Rose to spend with her mother, but had not been prepared for what he had returned to. Rose was sick, barely breathing as she had laid sweating and unconscious in her bed. He had felt the heat of her fever before he had even reached out his hand to touch her, and had cursed the moment his palm came into contact with her face. It wasn't just a fever, as Jackie had insisted it was.

Rose's temperature, confirmed by the sonic screwdriver, was nowhere near normal, and bordering too close to dangerous for his liking. His instructions for Jackie to draw a cool bath had been met with one argument after another, but she had finally done as told once he'd reminded her that Rose's temperature was nearing forty degrees centigrade. She had left him a moment later, and her absence had allowed him the time he needed to listen to Rose's breathing. She was definitely fighting an infection, he had assessed, but it wasn't Earth-born. He had known in that moment, the same as he knew now, that he couldn't reveal that bit of information to Jackie.

He pursed his lips in displeasure and knew that Rose would not like this next part one bit. He stepped closer to the half-filled tub and knelt down slowly, lowering Rose into the cool water gently. She hissed and shivered in his arms, whimpered as she tried to fight. He shushed her as he tightened his arms around her, holding her head and shoulders above the water. Her eyes didn't open, and her motions were stilted and small as though she was having difficulty moving. He left her in the water for as long as he dared, his kiss to her brow the proof he needed that her fever had dropped by at least two degrees. There was always a chance it could rise again, he knew, but he hoped it wouldn't.

She trembled in his arms when he lifted her from the water, and waited as Jackie dried her with a towel. He refused to leave Rose, even for as long as it took Jackie to dress her daughter in sleep clothes. The bed had been stripped, as per his instructions to Jackie, and remade with new bedclothes. A de-humidifier sat in the corner, the electric motor making a soft whirring sound. Her lungs were damp, he could hear that from the rattling breaths she drew in and knew that any moisture in the air would only make it worse.

Rose groaned weakly in protest when The Doctor moved a pillow under her head. He lifted her up as he sat next to her on the bed, leaned her body against his as he moved the pillows so that she would be propped up at an angle. She whimpered when he lowered her back to the pillows, her breath coming in shallow pants as she fought just to open her eyes. She didn't know why she was so scared, but in the moment that he tried to stand from the bed, terror filled her heart and clouded her mind. She tried to grab for his hand, but hers wouldn't move and she felt the sting of tears fill her eyes.

"I'm not going anywhere, Rose," The Doctor told her as he touched her face and smoothed the damp hair from her brow. "I'll stay right here with you, if you want," he offered, and watched as she seemed to relax.

He moved to sit next to her on the bed once more, his back against the wooden headboard. She needed to sleep, but he could feel the stubborn energy as she fought to stay awake. He turned his gaze to her, watched as her eyes fluttered and her chest rose and fell quickly in shallow labored breaths. He knew then what she wanted, and wrapped his arm around her shoulders as he eased her gently to rest against his side. She was still tilted up at an angle, but not how she needed to be in order to sleep well. He sat them both upright and rearranged the pillows before lying back and moving Rose to lay on his chest. She sighed once as she grew more relaxed, and he felt it the very moment she drifted off to sleep.

"She wasn't sick at all before I left her here," The Doctor said as he looked up at Jackie, unwilling to tell her about the depression her daughter had fallen into. "What happened?"

"Well, I don't know!" Jackie whispered harshly. "One moment she was fine, the next she looked like death warmed over."

"Tell me exactly what happened from the time I left," he demanded of her as he stroked his hand down over Rose's hair, an action he had long ago learned helped the girl to sleep.

"She and Mickey had a spat, and then we had tea, and then - this!" she said with a helpless wave toward her daughter. "And don't try to tell me it was the tea," she told him, her brows pulled together in worry and anger. "I tasted it myself, and it was fine."

"Before, or after giving it to Rose?" he asked her.

"Before," Jackie said, her expression telling him how ridiculous she thought his question was. "It's not like it matters," she protested. "I've done that dozens of times before and it's never made her sick."

A part of his mind whispered to him that that was the exact reason Rose was as sick as she was. She hadn't taken her tea the way her mother made it in a long time. She wasn't even drinking straight black tea anymore, he reasoned. Her tea had been a mix of the alien tea and the black tea he had on board the TARDIS. He frowned as the thought occurred to him that he often did the same thing Jackie had, and would taste Rose's tea before he gave it to her. He knew that she liked a particular mix of the two teas with just a bit of cream, and if the mix was even slightly off, she wouldn't drink it.

But she hadn't had that tea for more than a week, eight days to be exact. He also knew that she wouldn't make the tea for herself anymore, always insisting that he made it better. It was ridiculous to think that such a small thing would cause such a catastrophic reaction, but there was nothing else to blame it on. He would have known if she was coming down with something, he told himself. Her scent would have changed, and it hadn't. Her scent, even now as she lay suffering her illness, was the same as it had always been. That was how he had known that it wasn't a human illness she had contracted.

Test the theory, his mind told him, and he asked Jackie for a small glass of water. He nudged Rose awake when Jackie handed him the glass, and took a small sip of the water before he brought the glass to Rose's lips. She drank in small sips, before sputtering as she coughed. He rubbed her back as he set the glass on the table next to him and held Rose tightly in his arms. She was asleep a moment later, and he chided himself for being a fool to have entertained the idea. It didn't make a difference if there was trace DNA in the drink, he told himself, and blamed it on wishful thinking when it sounded that her lungs were beginning to clear.

Jackie watched as The Doctor held Rose, caring for her daughter as though she were the most precious thing in the world to him. She was sick, Jackie thought. Disgustingly sick, Rose had said so often in the past. But he held her. He stayed next to her in the bed and let her curl against him, his chest acting as a pillow to her daughter's aching head. Throughout all their years growing up together, and even after they had dated, Mickey wouldn't go anywhere near Rose when she was sick, but The Doctor let her sleep in his arms.

She turned away from the room, and stepped down the hall. She didn't like where her train of thoughts was going. Who was better for her daughter, her mind demanded to know. The boy who barely seemed able to care for himself, or the man without a name who had shown Rose the stars? She shook her head as she moved into the kitchen and pulled out the cleaning supplies. She hated that she was thinking about that, hated that her heart was telling her one thing, while her head was telling her another. The Doctor cared for Rose, regardless of her condition, and without care for who was watching. He could give her everything. But Mickey, her mind insisted, Mickey could keep Rose home. If she chose him, she wouldn't leave to travel through time and space.

The Doctor looked up at the door when he realized that Jackie had finally left him alone with Rose. He had held back from his desire to yell at Jackie for leaving Rose alone while she was sick. Yes, the girl needed sleep, but she hadn't been sleeping or breathing with any amount of comfort. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out his sonic screwdriver, adjusting the settings before he activated the device. A few seconds later, he watched as the door to the bedroom closed and listened to the click as the latch locked into place.

He wanted to take her back to the TARDIS. His ship would help him care for Rose, keep the air clean and warm the bed when Rose was cold. She would be able to alert him when Rose needed food, or was going to become sick. How many other times had the TARDIS acted in a maternal manner toward Rose? How many times had his beautiful ship been cross with him when he and Rose had simply gotten into an argument? He could feel her nudging at his mind now as he laid with Rose in her bed. The TARDIS wanted them both back on board, and was not about to be ignored.

He flinched at the feel of the TARDIS prodding against his mind, and answered her silently. He couldn't bring Rose back, not yet. As much as he wanted to, and as much as he was certain Rose would prefer it, he knew that Jackie would throw a fit if he tried to take Rose from the flat. He wasn't about to let Jackie make Rose's condition worse, just because she couldn't wrap her daft human brain around the fact that the TARDIS would be better for her daughter. Human dwellings bred disease, most dwellings did. They weren't aired out enough, they certainly weren't cleaned enough. A good dusting aside, the walls and floors needed to be scrubbed down with antiseptic cleaners, not to mention the air vents. The TARDIS didn't need any of that. She kept herself clean.

Just wait, Old Girl, The Doctor spoke to the TARDIS telepathically. Let me get her well enough to stand and walk on her own first.

"Bring her home," the TARDIS demanded in return.

I will, he responded with a tired sigh, thankful that his ship had finally accepted his answer. I'll bring her back as soon as I can.

He looked down at Rose when she moved against him, and lifted his hand to her face. Her fever was beginning to break, he noted with relief. She was still warm, the touch of her skin telling him that she was at least thirty-seven - thirty-eight degrees. She moaned weakly as her hand fisted loosely against his jumper, and he reached for the glass that sat next to him on the table. He brought it to her lips only to frown when she turned away as though there was something wrong with the water. He lifted the glass to his mouth and sniffed at the water before taking a sip of it.

There was nothing wrong with the water, he thought, but perhaps the liquid was too cold for her. It didn't take him more than a few seconds to warm the water with the aid of his sonic, and he took another sip to test the temperature and taste before he brought back to the girl in his arms. Her eyes were still closed, but she accepted the water this time and allowed him to tip it up for her to drink. It had been almost eight hours since he had held her in the cool bath and he was pleased to find that she was getting better. She was finally breathing comfortably once more, and her lungs sounded clear.

"Doctor?" Rose mumbled as her eyes fluttered open slowly.

"I'm here," he told her softly as he held her.

"Tired," she said as her eyes closed once more, and he chuckled quietly.

"I know." He petted her hair as he rested his head back against the pillows stacked behind him.

"TARDIS?" she asked, and he found her one word mumbles amusing.

"No. Your mum's flat," he answered and heard her groan. "Believe me, I want to take you back to the TARDIS. Soon as she's out of the flat, I intend to do just that."

"My hero," she praised tiredly as she drifted closer to sleep once more.

"Always," he promised her, and heard her sigh softly as she returned to an exhausted slumber.

It hadn't been much, but the short conversation had been what he needed. Rose was coming back to him. He didn't know how much longer she would sleep, but he did know that once she woke she would be better. With all hope she would be better than she had been before. He smoothed her hair back from her face as he turned and curled his body around hers. He could never tell her how frightened he had been to find her as sick as she was, or how the thought of losing her scared him. He was barely able to admit it to himself. She was important to him.

Too important to him to risk losing no matter the circumstance. She was human, and humans needed to connect to others in more than just a friendly manner. Perhaps it was time that he stopped trying to protect her from becoming involved with someone else. He had known from the moment he first saw them together that Rose wasn't romantically interested in Mickey, but she had been comfortable. Would he be able to handle the thought or sight of her wrapped in someone else's arms? Would he be able to watch her fall in love with another man, when he wanted to be the one who kissed her instead?

He couldn't be with her, he told himself as he tightened his arms around Rose and felt her snuggle against him in response. She was human, and she would be gone from him before he could bare it. He would lose her to time, and no matter all of his boasting to the contrary, he couldn't make time bend to his will. He couldn't keep the passing years from having an impact on her, from aging her. But the question remained. Could he stand by and let her be with someone else?