Author's Note: Thanks to all who have read and reviewed! Here is the epilogue to tie up a few loose ends.

Epilogue

The moment she woke, memories flooded her. Rose lifted a shaking hand to examine the smooth, soft skin. There was no coarse hair, and her nails remained short. For just a moment she wondered if she'd had a particularly nasty dream.

"Morning, Rose!" The Doctor's voice floated warmly across the room.

She saw that he stood in the doorway holding a tray in his hands. He was smiling, but his hair was ruffled and his shirt rumpled, and all in all he looked as though he'd had a hell of a night.

Still, his smile was infectious, and she met it with a grin of her own. He deposited the tray on the night table then sat in the chair beside the bed.

"So, how're you feeling?" he asked. His smile faded just a bit as his eyes searched her face.

"Better," she answered honestly. She pushed herself up, rather disappointed at the degree of effort this simple action seemed to require.

He nodded. "Your strength'll return soon. Some food'll help."

She glanced at the tray, and Rose saw a mug of hot cocoa and two slices of toast with strawberry jam.

"Smells good," she said.

"Ah, return of the appetite! That's always a good sign. Well, I say always. I mean usually, because sometimes it's a sign of something nasty like a parasite or one of those poisons that drain the energy from your cells—"

She must have frowned, because he abruptly changed his tack.

"So, a nice cup of cocoa and a few bites of toast, and you'll be right as rain in no time." He handed her the mug, pausing to be certain that she could manage without assistance.

Rose took a sip of the rich chocolate. "Mmm," she murmured. "'S good. D'you make it?"

"Secret's in the chocolate. I use Yru-Yruaba whenever I can—best stuff in the universe. Valrhona'll do in a pinch, though, but you have to add a wisp of orange peel to get the same taste."

His rambling did not distract her; she knew that he was watching her with a solicitous eye. She drank about half of the mug's contents then set it back on the night table. "So it's over then?" she asked.

He leaned forward and took her hand. "Yes, Rose, it's over and done with."

She nodded. "Thanks."

His brow furrowed. "I don't deserve it."

"What d'you mean?" she asked, sincerely confused. He'd stayed with her, taken care of her, seen her through the chills and fever and pain, and cured her.

"I shouldn't have left, not even for a moment," he replied quietly. His hand raked through his hair. "That made it all so much worse for you."

"What're you talkin' about?"

"In the infirmary," he said, voice rising slightly. "You woke up alone, and I wasn't there. You felt strange, probably as though your skin was tingling, and of course you'd think there was something wrong, and it was a logical step for you to think that you were going to change…" He closed his eyes for a moment and shook his head. "All my fault, putting you through all that. I'm sorry."

"Hey, did you just call me logical?" she quipped.

That earned a tiny smile from him. "Suppose I did."

"Hmm." She slipped her hand back into his. "So why was I feelin' like that? Did the vaccine cause that weird prickling?"

"No, not directly. Your heart was beating a bit erratically—a fairly common effect of dehydration, which was caused by the high fever. But I didn't want it to continue, so I took you to the infirmary to give you a few minutes with a machine that basically recalibrates the electrical fields in your body. It did its job on your heart, which is just fine now, by the way, but it caused that sensation in your skin."

"But I thought everything was changin'," she began. "I could've sworn I was growin' claws an' hair, but I s'pose that was just my imagination."

"Fueled by the fever." He rested his palm against her cheek. "Temperature's perfectly normal now. I like that in a girl."

She smiled.

"Really Rose," he said, momentarily somber again, "I'm the one who should say thank you."

"You? What for?"

"For your concern about me. That's why you ran off and hid, isn't it?" He didn't wait for a response. "And I know you must've felt terrible at the time—you were still feverish and weak, yet you managed to tramp all over the TARDIS and hide away just so you wouldn't hurt me."

She leaned in to rest her forehead against his. "You'd do the same for me."

His hands moved up to wrap around her shoulders. "Yes." He embraced her fully then, and she snuggled against him.

After perhaps thirty seconds the Doctor pulled back and reached for the plate of toast. "Better try this before it's stone cold."

Rose nibbled at a corner, then took a larger bite when she realized that the toast was still pleasantly warm and crispy. As she ate, he gathered up a few items that he'd left in the room. She saw him tuck the thermometer and stethoscope into his pocket.

"Back to normal now," he proclaimed, sweeping a hand across the room. "Well, really it's not, because normally your clothes would be all over the place, but I tidied up a bit while I was in here—"

She arched an eyebrow at him then chuckled. "I'm just glad that I'm still me."

"Me too," he said warmly. "And the really good news is that you're now officially immune to lycanthropy. So even if you do get bitten or scratched, you won't have to worry a bit."

"S'pose that's good. But let's still try to avoid werewolves in the future, yeah?"

"Yeah." He was in the doorway now. "If you feel up to it, why don't you have a shower and get dressed. I have some soup waiting in the kitchen."

"You're a right Jamie Oliver today, aren't you?" She grinned at him.

"Who's that then?" he asked, for once lacking a bit of knowledge.

"'S not important," she replied, climbing out of bed.

"Right." He watched her for a few moments, probably assessing whether she was steady on her feet. Satisfied, he left the room.

Rose walked to the bathroom and turned on the shower. A glance in the mirror showed that she was a mess. She ran her hand through her hair; it was thickly matted.

As steam filled the small room, she removed her clothes and stepped into the wonderfully hot stream. She closed her eyes as water washed over her. She squeezed a generous amount of green apple scented shampoo onto her palm and began working it through her hair. As the lather formed and fragrance tickled her nose, Rose sighed in contentment.

In the tiled room, the sigh echoed, a low and gentle growl of satisfaction.