He'd expected her to join him at some point, but the hours dragged by, and the Doctor sat alone in the Console Room. He missed Rose's company. He liked having someone to talk to, someone to listen to his thoughts and laugh at his jokes. So when he headed back to Rose's room, it was only to seek her company, not to see how she was doing, because surely she was fine.

He knocked on the door lightly on the very off chance that she was still sleeping…

"Yeah, come in," she said. He thought her voice sounded a bit husky.

She was curled on her side, the duvet half tangled in her legs. Her flushed skin was finely layered with perspiration.

"Rose? You all right?" He couldn't help asking; she looked anything but fine.

"I—" She paused, her eyes moving to his face. She swallowed. "'M not feelin' very good," she said finally, and it sounded like a confession.

He was at her side immediately. "Why didn't you call me?"

"Didn't wanna bother you. Know how you hate that sort of thing."

He placed his hand against her forehead. Her fever was up about half a degree, probably just enough to leave her identifiably uncomfortable. It was certainly sufficient to tell him that this was more than fatigue.

"What's the matter?" he asked, his concern quite sincere.

She met his gaze, and he could see her hesitation.

"It's all right, Rose," he said, stroking her cheek softly.

"You—" She swallowed again, and he thought that her throat must feel dry or possibly sore. "This isn't what you do. Don't wanna make you… fuss."

"You're not."

"Maybe you should take me home." She looked away.

"Is that what you want?"

"I—" She seemed at a loss for words.

"Because if it is, I'll do it, but first let's figure out what's wrong. Chances are I can sort it in no time."

"Don't wanna trouble you," she said, expressing the sentiment again.

"I don't mind." And he didn't. He simply wanted to see her well again, and whatever steps that required, he was happy to comply.

"Rather be here," she said, her voice only a whisper.

He nodded. "I'd rather you were here, too."

She looked up at him again. "'M sorry."

"No need to be." With a soft brush of his hand over her hair, he asked, "Does anything hurt?"

"Got a headache," she replied.

He waited, but she seemed reticent to add more. "What else, Rose?"

"Neck sort of aches, too, an' my back."

He slid his hands beneath her head to run his fingers over the base of her skull then slowly down her neck. Her muscles felt a bit tight, but there was no rigidity. The retroauricular, retropharyngeal, and submandibular lymph nodes were not enlarged, either. But as his hand passed near the internal jugular vein, Rose winced.

"Is this sore?" he asked, touching the area with his fingertips.

"Little, yeah."

He didn't feel anything abnormal. Still, he brushed aside her hair so that he could see her skin. "What's this?" he inquired, his eyes finding a small, red mark.

He put on his glasses and peered at the area. It looked like an injection site.

Rose lifted her hand to touch the mark. "They knocked me out," she replied.

"You mean back at the base?"

She nodded. "Think it was Danny, or maybe Zack."

She grimaced at the memory of Toby, knowing that she'd caused his death. Her hand shook a little, and she lowered it to rub idly at her back.

"You know you did the right thing," the Doctor told her.

Her voice was small as she replied. "Yeah."

He noticed that her hand was still moving over her back. She'd said it was sore. He nudged her hip gently, saying, "Let me have a look."

She rolled half-way over without complaint. He wondered if she was a little lethargic from the fever. He slid up her shirt.

"Oh!" he exclaimed with some surprise. He ran his fingers around the rash covering her lower back, bending down to examine the irritation more closely. Tiny blisters peppered her skin; he thought they looked painful.

"What is it?" she asked, her attention caught by his exclamation.

"You've come out in a rash," he said.

"Itches," she informed him.

"Yep, seems like it would. Does it hurt?"

She nodded. "A little."

"Well, I'm sure I can find something for it." He straightened, eyes moving back to the mark on her neck. Suddenly he shook his head, one hand moving up to scrunch at his hair. "I've been an idiot!"

She looked at him. "What?"

"Me. Idiot. Thick, idiotic idiot."

Her brow furrowed in confusion. Then she appeared to grasp his train of thought. "'M sorry. Told you you didn't need to fuss over me. I'll be all right—"

"No, Rose, that's not what I'm taking about. I should've figured this out the minute I realized you had a fever and weren't feeling well."

"Just a little tired's all," she said.

"Nope, you aren't. Well, you feel tired because of the fever, but that's due to the reaction."

"Reaction?" she repeated.

He rested his fingers above the mark on her neck. "To the sedative they gave you. You're obviously sensitive to it."

"Mum came out in hives once when she tried some new cold medication. Is it sort of like that?"

"Yes, I think so. Human biochemistry remains basically the same over the millennia, but very subtle evolutionary modifications can mean just enough difference that a particular substance won't metabolize properly, not the way it was intended when it was developed. The body tries to fight against it, just as if it were a disease pathogen. Whatever they gave you was developed for humans in their time, not for those in the twenty-first century." He examined the rash again. "Reminds me a bit of the reaction some patients used to get to penicillin, though this isn't as severe."

"Think it'll get worse?" she asked, just a hint of worry in her voice.

"No, Rose. I won't let it." He stood. "I'm going to get some lotion for the rash, and I'll see if I can find something to counteract the effects of the drug, too. Be right back."

Rose remained on her side. Rolling over felt like too much of an effort, and she thought that the rash was less itchy in this position. She sighed, annoyed with her body's reaction to the drug. She'd never had anything like that happen to her before, and now it had to go and occur when she was with the Doctor. She knew how much he hated playing nursemaid… She resolved to put on a brave front, to shoo him away as soon as he returned and let him tinker in peace. Then he wouldn't have to fuss over her, and that was good for both of them.

He was gone longer than she'd anticipated. When he finally returned, his expression was rather sober.

"Found some cream," he informed her, brandishing a small tube. He sat down beside her and pushed her shirt up further to expose her entire back.

"You can jus' leave it. I'll take care of it."

"What? Nonsense, Rose." He flipped up the cap and squeezed a line of the opalescent gel onto his fingertips.

"You don't need t' do that—" she began to protest.

"Of course I do." He paused for a second to look at her face, misreading her expression. "It shouldn't hurt, Rose. This has a topical anesthetic in it, too."

"'M not worried about that."

He began smoothing the gel over her back. Immediately the itch and sting receded.

"You shouldn't be worrying about anything," he said.

"Jus' don't wanna put you to any trouble."

His fingers moved gently over her skin in small circles. "It's no trouble, Rose."

Truth be told, the motion of his hand felt quite wonderful. Nearly all of the discomfort was gone, and now he was rubbing a bit more thoroughly at the deeper soreness in her muscles. Her mum had never managed anything that felt this nice.

After a few minutes, his hand stilled. "Better?" he asked softly.

She realized she'd closed her eyes and was almost dozing. "Mmn. Yeah. Thanks."

Cool air brushed over her legs. Rose looked down to see that the Doctor had pulled away the blankets and was studying her thighs and calves.

"What're you doin'?" she asked with some surprise.

"Checking to see if the rash has spread anywhere else. Legs look fine." Before she could fully process what he was doing, he'd slipped his hand up under her shirt to skate it lightly over her belly. "Nothing here."

"Oi! Watch where you're goin'!" she cried as his hand moved up a bit. She pushed it back down and tugged her tee shirt firmly over her stomach.

"Could've spread to your chest," he said matter-of-factly. "Skin there's similar in sensitivity to that on your back, and it often reacts the same."

She turned away from him and peeked down the neck of her shirt. "'S fine," she reported.

"You sure?"

"Yes."

"Well, that's good. Looks like the reaction's not too serious then."

"Uh uh. Jus' get me an aspirin an' I'll be fine."

"An aspirin?" he repeated, pronouncing the word as though it were among the vilest of invectives.

"Yeah, for the fever."

He frowned, his countenance showing disappointment. "About that…" he hedged.

"About what?"

"The fever. The aspirin." He lifted his hands in a gesture of apology.

"Yeah?" she queried, confused by his response to her simple request.

"Well, thing is…" He scratched at the back of his neck. "I did a bit of thinking while I was in the med bay. Checked a couple of databases, did a few quick statistical analyses, ran a dozen or so biomolecular models. That sort of thing." His hand moved to his neck again.

"And?"

"I think it'd be best to let this work its way out of your system on its own. I'm afraid that anything I might give you to counteract it could have even worse side effects, because if you're sensitive to somnylethylhexide-3, which I'm pretty certain is what they gave you, then of course you're going to be sensitive to the entire lethyhlhexide and paracortimelexidine spectrum, too."

Rose rubbed at her temple; her headache was growing worse by the second. "English, Doctor," she urged.

"What? Oh, right. Sorry. Basically the drug and those that would counteract its effects all share a similar molecule, and I think that's what caused your reaction. So it'd be best if we just wait it out. The rash shouldn't bother you any more, and I don't think your fever is going to increase."

Her head really was beginning to throb. "Can't I have an aspirin, though?"

"I'm afraid not. It could exacerbate the reaction. Really, it's best to just wait it out. I don't think it'll take more than twelve hours, sixteen at the outset—eighteen maximum."

She rolled her eyes. "Do I hear twenty-four?"

He appeared slightly aggrieved. "No, Rose, it won't be that long. Really."

"All right." She rolled onto her back and tugged the covers up. She'd felt hot before, but now she was becoming chilled.

"Feel like sleeping? Because really, that'd be the best thing for you."

"Yeah." She closed her eyes, but the pounding in her head didn't diminish with the small action.

"Can I get you anything—aside from aspirin, I mean?"

She realized that the Doctor was hovering at the bedside.

"No, I'll be fine. 'M just gonna try to get some sleep."

"Maybe you should have some water or juice first—"

She opened her eyes. "Fussin'," she remonstrated mildly.

"But Rose, you need—"

"What, Mum?"

His eyes widened for an instant. "Right. Then I'll just leave you to it."

She nodded. "Thanks."

She shut her eyes again and finally exhaled a relieved sigh when she heard the Time Lord leaving her room.

To be continued…