She was getting worse. Fighting with the nurses, refusing to eat, not wanting to see anyone, crying often, and started hurting herself. In their recent sessions, Rose would hardly talk to John. And if she even did she'd start yelling at him with angry tears in her eyes. He hated when she yelled at him, because all he could hear was the pain in her voice. It made his heart twist. He wanted her to be happy… but she never was.

John took a deep breath and knocked softly on her door. There was no answer. Well, she never answered his calls anyways.

Hesitantly, he opened the door and stepped into the room as he hid the bag he was carrying behind his back. He took a quick look around and spotted Rose sitting on one of the chairs with her arms wrapped around her. She looked up at him briefly as he walked over, before looking down at the floor again.

"Hey," John said softly and went to stand before her. "How are you feeling today, Rose?"

She shrugged and said nothing.

"Well, I've brought you something to try and cheer you up," John smiled and showed the large plastic bag he had brought with him. Rose furrowed her brow as she looked at the contents of his present.

"Paints?" she said and glanced up to him.

"Yup!" he smiled. "I thought it would help you describe your world better. I've got lots of colors and brushes in here, and you can use the wall by to door to decorate—I've asked the staff here and they say that's fine as long as you have a tarp below to keep the floor clean."

"I don't like painting," Rose said dryly.

"Oh come now," the Doctor tutted. "You say you don't like talking either."

"I don't."

"Well, it's either talking or painting, Miss Tyler," John sniffed and offered her the paint supplies once more. Rose looked down at the bag for a few moments before slowly taking it from him. John smiled broadly.

"Don't expect very much," Rose muttered.

"I'm not expecting anything," he said. "I just am trying to find something new that might cheer you up, and maybe help you better."

"I don't want any help," Rose snapped at him, anger covering her features. "I just want to go home!"

John took a step back at her outburst.

"I'll," he started and cleared his throat. "You'll go home one day, Rose. Maybe soon. Okay? I promise."

"Your promises don't mean anything to me, Doctor," Rose said quietly, dropping the paints to the floor as she hugged herself tighter. "You never mean them."

John felt his heart twist, but didn't reply.

—

John looked at the mural before him with his mouth gaping. Brilliant pictures and colors covered the wall with intricate detail and an array of hues. In the center was an open 1963 police box, with streams of golden light surrounding and emanating from it. Behind it was the universe with hundreds of stars in the dark sky. It was absolutely stunning.

But that was just the center piece. Around her TARDIS were various paintings of different worlds and creatures. There was this one piece with flying cars and green grass where two people sat on a coat looking across the water to a futuristic city. There was also a crystal waterfall near that and then a deep black pit with a falling man. Metal men and monsters that looked like some sort of saltshaker lined the edges of the wall. Along with them were terrifying creatures, aliens of some sort. The painting seemed to take a darker turn in the corners, but the main collage was unlike anything John had seen before. It all looked so real.

"Rose…" John said in awe as he took in the wall before him. "This is beautiful!"

He glanced beside him where Rose was standing and she smiled faintly, her cheeks glowing.

"Is that a smile?" he said to her with a wild grin on his face.

"No," Rose shook her head and brought a hand up to cover her mouth.

"I think I was," John smirked.

"No, it wasn't," Rose denied, but her lips betrayed her as the edges curled up.

"Ha! You liar," he laughed and then extended his arms widely. "Now come here!"

Rose let out a surprised squeak as he scooped her up into a large hug, squeezing her tightly against him with a giggle.

"W-what's this for?" Rose said with smile.

"I made you smile!" he laughed into her hair.

"And that's a reason for a hug?"

"Anything's a reason for a hug, Miss Tyler," John said as he reluctantly pulled away. "But especially making you smile."

He lightly tapped her nose with his finger and was rewarded with a small giggle and another smile from his favorite patient.

—

He hadn't seen her in four days. For four days he'd been stuck at his flat with a horrid virus, and she'd been stuck with a substitute psychiatrist. For four days he missed and worried constantly about her.

John couldn't wait to see her again. He practically ran down the hall to her room with a giddy smile on his face. Giving a short knock to her door, he composed himself for a few beats before going in.

"Rose, I'm terribly sorry I've been away, I've just…" John trailed off as his heart stopped. Rose sat in the far corner of the room, hugging her knees gently as soft tears ran down her face. She was looking across the room to the wall where her mural had been. John turned his head to follow her gaze.

The beautiful paintings were gone. Replacing them was cover of black paint that stretched across the whole wall, all except for the corners. Only the monsters remained, but even they were flecked with black smears. In the center of the darkness, where the glowing TARDIS had been, were the words "NOT REAL" written in large bleeding red letters.

John stared at the wall for a few moments, remembering what had been. Then he turned and went over to Rose, slowly kneeling beside her.

"Rose?" he said softly. Her gaze dropped to the floor, a few more tears running down her cheeks.

She was silent for a few seconds before whispering, "Go away."

"Tell me what happened?" John asked, hesitantly reaching his hand out to brush away her tears. She flinched away from him.

"I said go away," she said louder now. "I don't want to see you anymore."

John withdrew his hand and stepped away from her. He wanted desperately to say something so she would stop crying, or hug or… kiss away her tears. He didn't want her to be sad anymore. He looked down at her; a broken Rose wilted and dying away… and not letting him help her.

Slowly, John walked away and went to face the wall. The paints and brushes were still lying next to it on the ground—welcoming him. He reached down and grabbed a thick brush, dipping it into gold and beginning to paint over the words. Stroke after stroke, changing brushes every now and again, he added color to the blank canvas once more. He lost track of time and just focused on his project until he felt it finished. He stepped back to look over his work, a small smile on his lips. A perfect Rose, with the stars in her eyes and the universe in her hands… his Rose.

"…Is that me?" a soft voice, barely above a whisper said from behind him. He turned to see Rose standing near him. Her eyes are red and the tear stains still on her cheeks as she stared at his work.

"It's how I see you," John murmured. "You're beautiful, Rose Tyler."

She forced her gaze away from his portrait and looked to him. Nervousness bit at John as he waited for her to say something, anything to indicate what she was feeling. Anger? Sadness? Happiness? … Love? He wanted to tell her how much he cares about her, how much he worried for her. How much he wanted her to remember them before all this happened.

He was just about to turn away when Rose wrapped her arms around his chest tightly. He inhaled sharply in surprise before recovering quickly and returning her embrace. Rose nuzzled her head into his chest, saying quiet words he can't understand.

"I'm here, Rose," John said into her hair, risking to give her a quick kiss to the top of her head. "I'm right here. I'm not gonna leave."

"Doctor," she whispered. "My Doctor."

"That's right. Forever yours."