A/N Rose has a brief chat with the King, and the Doctor finally shows a sign of responsiveness as their tumultuous day comes to a close.
Chapter 4
Standing inside the open doorway, Rose realized after a few seconds that she was just staring and had yet to address King Zerin as he stood on the other side of the door. "Um...Your Majesty," she finally greeted, her words spoken hastily in an attempt to make up for the unintentional pause.
His studious gaze relaxed fractionally as he smiled. "May I come in?"
"Oh, of course! Sorry. Um...please, come in." She cleared her throat and stepped aside as he moved into the room.
"Are you comfortable here?" he asked, glancing about.
Rose closed the door and walked towards him. "Yes, thank you. I really can't thank you enough for giving us help and taking us in like this."
He looked over at the Doctor on the bed, who was still unresponsive. Zerin nodded in his direction. "And how is he now?"
Rose put on a brave face, despite the fact that every time someone asked how the Doctor was doing everything inside her was screaming that he wasn't even close to being alright. Not like this. "His burns have gotten a little better already, and I'm sure his eyes will in time, too. He just needs a little more time to recover."
King Zerin turned and faced her. "Is he your husband?" he asked directly, waiting intently for her reply.
Rose was a little caught off guard by the question. It wasn't the first time someone had made the assumption about the two of them at least being a couple, but it was the gravity with which the question was spoken that took her a little aback. "Um, no. No, he's not...my husband."
His expression shifted. Rose tried to read just what exactly was behind the look – she had become somewhat experienced by now in reading looks that masked unspoken emotions in her time with the Doctor – but she couldn't quite put her finger on this one. Then again, that was often the case with the Doctor, too, Rose thought wryly.
"I see," he replied, his tone measured; but he pressed further rather than letting it drop. "Your lover, then?"
Rose flushed slightly at the candid assumption and shook her head. "We're not...like that. Just friends. Best friends. We travel together...everywhere. All sorts of places."
Maybe she should think such personal questions were out of line, but he was the King, after all, and the one providing them with needed shelter and care. So the least Rose figured she could do was answer his questions about who she and the Doctor were, even if his questions did seem a little forward. Maybe that was just the manner of this culture.
He tilted his head and studied her curiously. "You are indeed a mystery. A traveler from another world, falling to this realm like a blazing star."
"You make a crash-landing sound a lot more glamorous than it is," Rose said with a short, humorless laugh. "So...do you get many travelers from other worlds, then?"
"Very few. And the last account of such a visit was before my time. But never has there been a woman as yourself arriving in a time such as this." There was a sudden intensity to his words, and Rose wondered just what he meant by that. He then startled her slightly by reaching out and taking her hand. He held her palm in his and traced his fingers across the top of her hand as he studied it. "You do not look Jezrian, yet you do not bear the mark of the Krendorian," he murmured, before gently releasing her hand and lifting his eyes back to hers. "What is your name?"
She cleared her throat. "Rose. Rose Tyler."
His expression was wistful. "Like the rare blooms found only on the highest mountains of Sheelon."
Rose supposed the TARDIS translation circuits got it close enough. It seemed to be a flower, at least. "Well, I don't know about rare, but...I s'pose my mum and dad liked the name well enough, anyway."
"I would like to know much more about you, Rose Tyler. There is much for both of us to learn." He turned and gazed out through the window up at the twin crescent moons rising, the black sky now dotted with dazzling pinpricks of light as the stars shone brightly. From the moment these two travelers had arrived in this world, Zerin's mind had been filled with questioning. Questions about his destiny he did not yet have answers for. Questions for this woman his heart was not yet ready to ask.
He closed his eyes and spoke quietly. "Not at this hour, though. There will be time for us to learn more later on." He turned back to Rose. "Right now you need rest, and you and your friend must both recover from your ordeal. You will both remain here as my guests, and the services of the castle are yours."
"Thank you again," Rose said, trying to adequately express her gratitude. "For everything. You've done so much already."
He smiled briefly. "As I said earlier, perhaps it is possible that our paths were meant to cross."
Rose wrinkled her forehead deeply and shook her head, perplexed. "I–"
He lifted his hand to quiet her question. "All in time. For now, just know that whatever you may need is yours."
With a short nod, he then turned from her and left the chamber.
Rose turned back and looked over at the Doctor. She walked over to the bed and perched beside him on the edge. "Well, it seems we made quite an entrance, you an' me."
Zerin seemed a little bit mysterious to her, like maybe he was holding back from saying something more. But she also got the impression that the people around here were a little taken by her and the Doctor's arrival. These people were no doubt highly intrigued by them, if nothing else, she reasoned.
Rose would undoubtedly be giving the King's words a little deeper thought if her mind wasn't already singly focused on her concern for the Doctor. It really didn't matter to her if these people saw them as fascinating. She was just glad the two of them had been given a place to stay and the Doctor had received help. Rose just wished there was something more that she could do to help him. She hated this feeling of helplessness as he continued to remain unresponsive.
Rose reached forward and gingerly brushed some of the fringe off his forehead. Seeing the Doctor like this was just...wrong. It may have only been a few hours, but Rose desperately missed his energy and enthusiasm and the sound of his voice.
"I'm right here," she whispered to him, wondering if he even knew. "I'm right here with you. Just please come back to me." Rose's mind flashed back to an image of the Doctor lying unconscious in bed as she'd slipped the sonic screwdriver into his hand and whispered 'help me.' And he had. But right now he was the one who needed help, and if all she could do was stay by his side then she would at least give him this if she could do nothing else.
There was no response and no change as her whispered words were met with silence. Rose sighed deeply and looked over towards the windows, then noticed the tray of food that had been brought in earlier by Nahlia. Rose had momentarily forgotten it. Her awareness of hunger had left her as she'd focused again on the Doctor, but seeing the food reminded Rose that she was still rather hungry, and she couldn't take care of the Doctor if she didn't take care of herself.
Rose stood and walked over to where it sat, picked up the tray and brought it back over to the bed. She sat back down beside the Doctor, placing the tray in front of her on the bed. There was some broiled fish, sliced fruit, a round loaf of fresh bread, and a pitcher of what looked to be water but had a slightly fruity aroma. Rose ate a little of the food, then lifted the silver pitcher and poured some of the drink into the matching silver goblet. She took another whiff, then a tentative sip. It was slightly sweet, but very refreshing.
She sat the tray aside after finishing what she wanted of the food, but kept the drink. Rose looked down at the Doctor. His lips, though healing from the burns, were dry, and she imagined his throat must be parched. Rose wanted to relieve any of his discomfort that she possibly could. She dipped her finger into the goblet and brought it to his mouth, then gently spread the soothing liquid over his parched lips.
It was then the Doctor finally stirred slightly, attempting to move his mouth. Rose's heart soared. Encouraged, Rose dipped her finger in the goblet again and repeated the motion. This time the tip of his tongue slipped past his lips, instinctively seeking the cool liquid. She wet all of her fingers and brought them to his tongue.
"Here," she half-whispered, her voice quivering with joy that he was finally showing a sign of responsiveness. "This is what you need. Something to drink, yeah?" His tongue met her fingers again, and he swallowed down the drops of liquid. "That's it," she encouraged.
The Doctor slowly opened and closed his mouth several times, a raspy sound forming in his throat. "Shhh, it's alright," she soothed.
He turned his head slightly in her direction. "R-Rose?"
Just hearing him speak again, even raspy and strained as his voice was, filled Rose with relief. "S'okay. We're okay, both of us. Don't try to talk just yet." Rose took the pitcher and poured more into the goblet. "Do you feel like you can drink a little something? Just nod if you do."
The Doctor slowly nodded his head.
Rose placed her hand behind his head and carefully helped him lift up. "Here," she encouraged, bringing the cup to his lips.
The Doctor took a sip, then another. He eased his head back down. The Doctor lifted his hand, and she thought his first instinct would be to feel for the bandage covering his eyes, but he didn't. Instead he pressed his palm to his temple in a sign of pain. "The...the TAR–"
"Shhh," Rose quieted him. He didn't need to remember the condition of the TARDIS just yet; though she suspected by his reaction upon waking that he knew the exact condition of the ship because he could feel it. "It'll be alright," she tried her best to reassure him. "You just need to rest right now, okay?"
The Doctor didn't try to reply as he let his hand fall back to his side. He was still barely coherent, his injured body having all but shut down in order to heal, and the bit of consciousness he had now regained was consumed by one thing. The TARDIS' pain was clawing at his own mind and drowning out everything else around him. Once his mind was a little more focused he could tone-down the link, but right now it was overwhelming him and pulling him back under.
Rose stroked his hair soothingly. She was torn between wanting to jump and shout for joy that he'd finally regained consciousness while at the same time feeling the drag of sheer exhaustion pulling at her limbs. He still needed more rest, and for now, Rose just wanted to curl up beside the Doctor and imagine that everything would all be okay in the morning. Better, at least.
Rose began to move off the bed to turn out the lights, but the Doctor surprised her by suddenly reaching back out for her. "It's okay. 'M not going anywhere," she assured him as she took his seeking hand in hers. "I'm just gonna turn down the lamps and we'll both get some rest. Okay?"
The Doctor let his hand slip from hers. He wasn't able to focus on much at the moment, but he held to the thin thread of awareness that Rose was still here. She was safe and had survived the crash. That, at least, allowed him to give up the fight against his body's insistence for the restorative sleep that was reclaiming him.
Rose stood and walked over to one of the torches on the wall, not sure how to snuff out the light. She reached her hand towards the glowing sphere, and as it passed over, the light dimmed. She swept her hand over it experimentally again and this time it completely faded. Having figured out this much at least, she proceeded to the other lamps, running her hand over them and extinguishing their glow. She then walked back over to the bed.
Rose paused. Under different circumstances this had the potential to be an awkward situation for them. Any other times throughout their travels when they had been faced with single sleeping arrangements, the Doctor usually gave Rose the bed, stating his superior biology and less need for sleep. There was no denying his own need for sleep now, though; and Rose was frankly too exhausted to care about stretching the lines of those invisible boundaries between them – unspoken boundaries that already frustrated her at the best of times as it was. And from his gesture a minute ago, it seemed the Doctor was in no way against the idea of her staying close beside him right now, either.
His breathing had evened out again, and from what she could see of his face he at least appeared relaxed. He had succumbed to sleep again. Rose unzipped and removed her jacket, dropping it without care onto the floor. She pulled her arms out of her T-shirt long enough to remove her bra, then slipped the shirt back on, now comfortable enough for sleeping. She then shimmied out of her jeans.
She was too exhausted, dirty, and sore to bother putting on one of the elegant, floor-length nightgowns brought in for her among the other clothing. Down to simply her T-shirt and knickers, Rose pulled back the covers on the bed and eased herself in beside the Doctor, wincing as the bruises she'd sustained in the crash made their presence known.
Turning her head towards him, she could just make out the gentle rising and falling of his chest in the dim, moonlit-glow of the room. Turning fully on her side to face him, Rose reached for his right hand that rested on his abdomen atop the covers. She laced her fingers through his and felt his limp digits instinctively curl around hers.
Rose closed her eyes and tried to escape the events of the day, hoping the Doctor had managed to do the same. But the raw memories refused to grant them reprieve as images of smoke and fire consumed both their dreams.