He was nothing like Rose's mother. He was certain of it. He wasn't fussing or hovering; he was simply attempting to treat Rose's symptoms and alleviate her discomfort. And he most certainly was not playing nursemaid.
The Doctor returned to the Console Room to sit idly in the jump seat. His fingers drummed against his knees then against the tatty leather. He leaned back, sliding his hands behind his head, but he found it difficult to relax.
What if Rose needed something? She'd said she had a headache. While he couldn't offer her any analgesics, he might be able to do something else to assuage her pain. The fever, too, would undoubtedly leave her alternating between too hot and too cold, worsening the aches, making her uncomfortable.
She would require fluids, as well. He hadn't been joking when he'd told her to drink water to avoid dehydration. While the risk of serious issues was minimal, even mild dehydration would worsen her symptoms.
He would not be fussing if he took her some juice and made sure that she drank it. Such an action would be for her benefit. If she didn't know what was good for her, well then, he'd just have to take matters into his own hands.
He was the Doctor, after all. He made things better. Rose's case was no exception.
He stood and strode purposely into the corridor.
She'd been a bloody fool to send him away.
Rose lay miserably beneath the covers, hot and cold by turns, and it was simply impossible to get comfortable. Oh, she realized that there was nothing the Doctor could offer her in the way of medication, but she thought that his presence would be soothing. At the very least, his wittering would provide a welcome distraction to her singular focus on her body's many ways of making her suffer.
She pushed back the duvet as she grew warm again. Her arms ached with the effort, and the throbbing in her head worsened. The lights seemed terribly bright, too. Maybe they were aggravating her headache. She should turn them down…
Rose sat up slowly, groaning in frustration at the dull pain this action brought to her limbs. She set her feet upon the floor then pushed herself up. The room seemed to sway a bit, and she had to grasp the footboard and then the dresser to get herself to the wall where the light switch was mounted.
She pressed a shaking hand over it, moving it to lower the intensity of the brightness. The room was shrouded in dimness now, and she was relieved to find an incremental improvement in her headache.
She stood leaning against the wall for several minutes. The coolness of the structure felt nice against her hot skin. She slid down to sit with her back to the wall and her legs curled beneath her. Her little journey had exhausted her, and her eyelids felt very heavy.
Rose turned her cheek to the wall and closed her eyes.
The Doctor held a large bottle of water in one hand and an empty glass in the other. He'd decided that juice was less hydrating than a potassium-rich solution he could add to the water. He'd infused the liquid with some citrus flavoring, too, so that it would be more palatable to Rose.
He paused outside her door for just a moment. If she offered any resistance, any comments about resemblances to her mum, he'd tell her that she needed medical attention, plain and simple. And he, the Doctor, was the ideal person to provide it. There'd be no fussing, no pampering, of course—just his firm insistence on treating her to prevent complications.
He nodded in satisfaction then nudged at the partially open door with his elbow.
"Rose? It's me. I've brought you something to drink, because you need fluids." There. He'd said it matter-of-factly, professionally; she wouldn't argue with that.
He waited a few seconds and realized that she wasn't even acknowledging him. Surely she wasn't perturbed that he'd returned to provide her with necessary and well-warranted attention.
"Rose," he said again, beginning to grow miffed at her silent treatment.
She was behaving childishly. Well, two could play at that game. He'd treat her like a child, too. He'd tucked an aural thermometer into his pocket, but for just a moment he considered returning to the med bay and searching through his drawers until he found a thermometer appropriate for a small child. That would show her…
But then he noticed that her room was quite dim. He was certain he'd left the lights on.
Without further hesitation, he pushed open the door and blinked in the low light.
Rose's bed was empty, and the bathroom was dark. His eyes moved quickly through the dimness until he saw her slumped against the wall, only a few feet from where he stood.
"Rose!" he said with some alarm, hastily setting the bottle and glass on the dresser before falling to his knees beside her.
"Mmn," she responded. "Doctor."
He pressed his hand over her forehead, afraid that her fever had spiked unexpectedly. However, it seemed no higher than it had earlier. She opened her eyes slowly to lift them lethargically to his face.
"What are you doing down here?" he asked.
"Lights were too bright," she explained hoarsely, "an' the wall felt so nice an' cool. 'S sort of cold now, though." She frowned, and a small shiver ran through her.
"Come on," he said, taking her arms and lifting her gingerly. "Back to bed, Rose."
He helped her across the room and eased her down onto the mattress. Immediately she sank down onto her side, reaching for the duvet. He pulled it up over her shoulders.
"Cold," she murmured. She was shivering in earnest now despite the warmth of the quilt. Her hand reached out shakily for another blanket.
"Here," he said gently, spreading a second blanket over her.
"Thanks." Still, chills continued to wrack her.
The Doctor reached for her hand, enfolding it between his palms as he instructed his body temperature to rise.
After a minute or so, Rose said, "Feels good." However, her shivering had not ceased.
He toed off his shoes then released her hand so that he could pull off his jacket. Quickly he lifted the duvet and slipped into bed beside her, snuggling against her back.
"Doctor?" she questioned, clearly surprised by his actions.
"Sshh. Just relax, Rose." He wrapped his arms around her and hugged her body close to his.
He could feel the unnatural heat of her skin as her back pressed against his chest and stomach. He rubbed his hand along her arm, and she cuddled into him even closer.
"Better?" he asked.
"Yeah."
He continued to caress her arm as his other hand rested over her stomach. She really was warm; he'd need to check her temperature soon. He estimated it to be about 38.4, but it would be wise to confirm this.
However, for the moment his presence seemed to quell her chills. He felt her body relaxing as the light shaking slowed then stopped. Gradually her respiration rate decreased, too, and he thought she was falling asleep.
He'd permit her to rest for a short while, but he did need to see that she had some fluids. It would be best to rouse her before she slipped into deep slumber. He'd give her a few minutes, though; she deserved that.
As he lay beside her, his arms encircling her and his hands moving in gentle motions over her hot skin, the Doctor realized that he felt content. Oh, he was a bit worried about her, of course, but her presence, her body beside his, was comforting. For so long, he'd felt utterly isolated, so bereft and unwilling to consider any sort of emotional attachment. However, now affection surged through him, and he understood that he was no longer alone.
His hand moved up to stroke Rose's cheek and temple. She'd complained of a headache; he was certain it had not gone away. He traced gentle circles with his fingertips, exerting the lightest pressure, just enough to trigger the desired effects.
"Mmm." She stirred a little. "Nice."
"I'm glad," he said softly.
He continued his ministrations for several minutes then, rather reluctantly, eased himself away from Rose and out of the cocoon of blankets.
"Where're you goin'?" she asked sleepily.
"Not far."
She opened her eyes. "Doctor?"
"Yes, Rose?"
"Can you…" She seemed hesitant to complete the questions.
"Can I what?" he prodded mildly.
"Can you… I mean, if you don't mind too much, would you stay? You don't need t'do anything; I don't need anything." Her voice was apologetic. "Jus' thought, maybe you could sit an' read or somethin'."
He smiled down at her. "Of course, Rose. I'd be glad to."
She returned the smile.
"So," he said, "since I'm here, I'm going to check your temperature." He dug the thermometer out of his jacket and held it to her ear. She didn't complain. He studied the read-out briefly; he'd been quite close in his estimate.
"'S it okay?" she asked, watching his expression.
"Fine. Not too high, but enough to make you a bit uncomfortable." He poured some water from the bottle and brought the glass to her. "This'll help."
She sat up, aided by his hand at her back, and drank without questioning him. He nodded approvingly as she finished the contents. Before she lay down again, he lifted her shirt to check the rash upon her back. The gel had worked well; most of the blisters had receded, leaving just a light, dry irritation and mild redness.
"How's it feel?" he asked, his fingers skirting the area.
"Just itches a little."
He applied more gel with solicitous strokes. When she sighed contentedly, he smiled, pleased that he was able to make her feel better.
He helped her settle back against her pillow and tucked the covers around her.
"Now," he said, "you should try to sleep."
"Yeah. Think I can now."
Her eyelids were already lowering. He thought slumber had claimed her quickly, but her hand slid from beneath the blankets, fingers questing for his. He took her hand, and within a few seconds she fell asleep.
To be concluded…