Recovery

10/Rose

Hurt/Comfort

Summary: When Rose falls ill on an alien planet it's up to the Doctor to help her recover.

Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who or its characters. Last night I watched David Tennant in Recovery (if you haven't seen it, I highly recommend it. It's on youtube. It's a great story, and DT does a fantastic job. All of them do.) So this story shares its name with that, because I'm lousy with titles, and the idea behind it follows along those lines as well, though of course with a DW twist.

Previously:

Touching his fingers to her temples the Doctor attempted the first psychic contact of the day. Her mind was still in chaos, but there was a small pathway through it now. It wasn't easy, but he was able to push further into her mind than he had been before. He could touch some memories, but more importantly he was able to feel her emotions.

And what he felt was encouraging. Rose was confused and scared. He didn't wish her to feel like that, but it represented the knowledge that things weren't right. If she was so brain damaged that she couldn't figure out that there was a problem her recovery would have been shorter but much less successful. Right now, though, Rose's brain knew that something wasn't right. It didn't know what to do about it, but it at least knew there was a problem.

Pushing a little of his own optimism and calmness into her mind, he retreated from Rose's brain. Her eyes had closed again, and he simply rubbed his hands alongside her head. Since he was standing he got started on her physical therapy for the morning. He turned her head both directions, manipulated her arms and legs, and then rolled her onto her belly. He rubbed her back and brushed her hair. When that was done he checked her IV and catheter again, then settled back down with his book. He began to read again.

Chapter 7

Three days later Rose had opened her eyes twice more, but she had still failed to react to him. Her brain stayed in the same state. Confused and scared and chaotic, but each time he felt that the pathway through to her was easier to travel and went deeper.

Two weeks after falling into the coma Rose started to come out of it. It was a slow process, but she would wake for a few minutes at a time. She was honestly awake. She would follow his fingers and she could answer simple questions. She fought him when it was time to change her IV and catheter, and she let it known that she enjoyed him brushing her hair. All of these were good signs, the Doctor thought. They were all things Rose would do. She had never said that she liked having her hair brushed, but the Doctor had watched her brushing her hair a few times and had noted the peaceful look she got on her face as the bristles passed through her blond strands.

However, on the fifteenth day Rose showed how dangerous and unknown this sort of recovery could be. Rather than just pushing at the Doctor as he moved her catheter and bag she kicked at him, knocking him down. She pulled out her catheter, then gasped with pain as she realized what she had done. Not letting that stop her, though, she pulled out her IV, then pulled down the bags from the stand, spraying her nutritional supplement all over herself and the infirmary. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and jumped up.

However, even though the Doctor had started physical therapy with her right away she still hadn't stood or walked in over two weeks. After going just one step Rose pitched forward into the table. She landed against it with a crack, then sprawled out on the floor crying.

All of this had happened so quickly even the Doctor hadn't had time to react. He untangled himself from underneath the tubes and bags that had been thrown toward him and made his way to Rose's side. He enveloped her in his arms and sat her up, just holding her and rocking her as she cried.

"Shhh, it's ok Rose. It's ok. I know you're scared and confused. Everything will be all right. I promise you. I promised you that a long time ago. I promised your mother. If you're broken, Rose Tyler, I can fix you."

Rose sobbed into his shirt. And for the first time since her incident on Ledonia, she spoke.

"My arm. My arm hurts."

The Doctor was shocked into immobility and silence. If Rose had been herself she would have stared with a gaping mouth at him. This didn't happen often. A tear escaped the Doctor's eye. Rose had spoken to him. He didn't know if he would ever hear her voice again, but there it was.

And there it was. It finally registered to him what she was saying.

"Oh, Rose! I'm so sorry!" He quickly stood, cradling her small body in his arms easily. He carried her over to another clean couch and set her on it. Without removing a hand from her upper arm, just in case she tried to jump up again, he reached across to his sonic screwdriver. He scanned it over her arm, frowned, then scanned her entire body.

"Rose, you broke your ulna when you hit the table. I'm so sorry, I should have caught you! I can fix it, though, as promised. Give me just a few minutes and I'll get my skeletor regenerator up and running and you'll never know anything had happened. Can you lay back on the couch for me, though, please?"

To his immense surprise and pleasure Rose obeyed his simple request, and he quickly grabbed the appropriate tool. He placed it over the break, and applying gentle traction let it do its job. Within five minutes the bone was as good as new. He removed the regenerator and placed it back on the table.

"Rose, all better now. Can you look at me, please?"

Again he thrilled when she turned to face him. Small steps, he told himself.

"Rose, do you know who I am?"

Rose shook her head slightly, then closed her eyes. As she dropped back into slumber the Doctor placed his hands aside her head. The chaos was lessening, he was certain of it. He watched, fascinated, as images danced in front of him. Rose was remembering, though it wasn't making its way to her conscious mind at all. He saw his face several times, as well as the face of someone in a 20th century medical outfit. He saw her mum's face flash by. She was thinking of the times she'd been hurt and sick, and who she went to for help. Her mom, her family doctor, and now of course, him. Her brain was putting memories together in groups. A fantastic sign, even if it wasn't something her conscious mind could pick up on yet.

With Rose asleep once more the Doctor went to his cabinet and got out new IV and catheter supplies. He didn't dare wonder how many more days he would have to use them. Such thinking was not at all productive. Rose was how she was now. She was better than yesterday. He just kept having to remind himself of that. Even if she never got back to perfect she was better than she was yesterday.

At that thought, though, his hearts clenched. What if she never did get back? Before he could stop himself he imagined Rose permanently disabled. Bringing her back to Jackie, explaining what had happened. It was all so stupid, really. She'd had an allergic reaction, that was all. But because of where they were the treatment had caused much more damage than the allergy ever would have. Because of him. If she'd been on Earth she would have had a painful afternoon and that would have been it. But now she had been in a coma for over two weeks, she'd just broken her arm, and she had brain damage to an unknown degree.

No! He wouldn't think like this. He promised her, he promised her mother. If he couldn't fix her he would find someone somewhere and somewhen who could. He had despised everything that the Sisters of Plentitude had done in the year 5,000,000,023, but he could see now why people would so eagerly turn to them. If they could cure anything, what hope they must have brought!

Course, that was for disease. Rose was cured of disease. The only battle she was fighting now was one within her own mind. And the Doctor was more than qualified to help her. He just had to wait for her to be ready to accept his help.

Until then he would continue as he was doing. Taking care of her body and helping her mind in whatever ways he could.

Rose slept for the rest of the day after her excitement of the morning. Late that night, though, just as the Doctor was thinking about another sleep cycle, her eyes opened.

"Rose?"

"Hmmm?"

"Rose, are you awake?"

"Guess so. I need to pee."

"Go ahead, Rose, you have a catheter in."

"No, I need to get up, go to the bathroom." With that statement she started to push herself up off the couch. Fearing a repeat of that morning's performance the Doctor quickly was at Rose's side, helping her up.

"Rose, you have a catheter in. If you would like to use the bathroom you need to let me take it out slowly so you don't hurt yourself. Do you remember taking out the catheter this morning? It hurt when you did."

Rose shook her head. She looked around, as if for the first time.

"Where am I?"

"You're in the infirmary, on the TARDIS."

"Is that in London, then?"

"No, Rose. Not in London. We're ... a bit out of town right now."

Rose seemed to accept that, then she swung her legs over the bed, obviously about to stand up. Luckily for the Doctor her leg tangled in the catheter.

"What's this?"

"That's the catheter, Rose. Let me take it out and I'll help you to the bathroom."

"I don't need your help! I've been going to the bathroom since I was two, thankyouverymuch! I can do it myself!!"

The Doctor was taken back by her sudden angry outburst, but he wasn't very surprised. Often with brain damage people reverted to a more childlike state. They would get angry quickly and over minor things, stumble over tasks a teenager would find commonplace, but they would also love and trust like a child.

Without a word the Doctor leaned in to remove the catheter from Rose. He heard her suck in her breath as he got close, but she did not push him away or make another sound. Somewhere in there, he mused, she knew to trust him.

When that was done he held out his hand and let Rose take it herself. She eased off of the couch, and the Doctor took her other hand to help her stabilize on her feet. When she had done that she started walking, slowly, toward the door out of the infirmary. The Doctor simply held her hand, just in case she needed his help. He led her out of the door and down the hallway to the bathroom. As he opened the door and she walked in she did not let go of his hand. As she was readying to sit down he extracted his appendage, then turned and walked back to the door.

"I'll be just outside if you need me."

Rose simply nodded at him, and without waiting for him to leave started pulling up her gown. The Doctor quickly turned and walked out of the door, leaving it open. It was nothing he hadn't seen before, but he knew that Rose was a very private person, and whatever dignity he could give her he would.

When he heard her standing up he re-entered. He smiled at her, looking at her upright and standing on her own. He reached out and flushed the toilet, then took her hand.

"Are you hungry, Rose?"

She nodded, and so he led her toward the kitchen.

"This is a funny place you've got here, Mister."

"Doctor, Rose. I'm called the Doctor."

"That's a funny name. 'The Doctor'." Is that what your mum called you?"

"It's the name I chose for myself. I think it suits me. You think it suits me too, most of the time."

"Do I? Do I know you?"

"Very well. Possibly better than anyone else. I think you know that, Rose. Because deep down, you trust me. You may not remember my name, but you trust me. Just think about what you've done in the past few minutes."

He looked at Rose. She seemed to be thinking about what he had said.

"I do. I trust you, Doctor. I always have."

With that statement they entered the kitchen.

to be continued...