Dear God I woke up about thirty minutes ago and my inbox had 20+ emails from fanfiction. I popped over to the Traffic stats out of curiosity and, I gotta ask... which one of you is from Hungary? O.o

Okay, onto the official bits. Title comes from a quote in Fires of Pompeii. The High Priestess says "This one is different. He carries starlight in his wake." Quotes will be taken from all throughout seasons 1-3 so anything you recognize from the show probably is. I don't own Doctor Who or the TARDIS. Trust me. If I owned the TARDIS, I would not be here.

The cover was made by by best friend Kazz and chapters picked over for errors by roommate in between sleeping, class, tumblr and general Glee obsessing. (I love you both :D)

It hadn't occurred to Rose until they were at the desk that the only way to access a hospital thoroughly enough without disguising themselves as doctors was to be patients, or a patient and the patient's husband, because the Doctor couldn't pose as a patient as long as he had two beating hearts. Humanity was a bit wary of aliens at the moment, and anything with two hearts was definitely not of this world, and so far everything from out there had been hostile.

Nope. It was better that Rose be the one in the hospital pyjamas and the Doctor be the concerned husband at her bedside, away from any machines and tools that would give him away. So here she was, filling out registration forms. She came to one of the basic questions…and froze. Her age. It wanted to know her age. Her name was easy. Her birthdate was easy. But her current age was a different matter entirely. Because, in all honestly, Rose Tyler wasn't sure how old she was anymore. Twenty-one, maybe?

It was hard to keep track of time in the TARDIS. After all this time, it didn't seem so important. Not like in the beginning. She'd thought to keep track of the days going by with a calendar, but she had no idea where to start counting from. The day after she'd run into the TARDIS without looking back was a good day to start, but exactly how long ago was that?

She'd tried asking the Doctor but after learning the reason for her curiosity, he'd stared at her in disbelief. "All of time and space…and you want a calendar?"

"Yes, yes, I do!" she'd exclaimed and had managed to get the number of days from him with little more fuss after that, though he tried several times to point out the flaws in her plan.

The second challenge was marking the passage of days. The TARDIS had been helpful then, a clock materializing on Rose's bedside before she had the chance to ask the Doctor.

Oh, it had worked out in the beginning. She was meticulous in her task, always marking a day off every time she went to sleep, which was pretty regular, except when things happened and they were forced to stay on some planet for whatever reason. She'd always asked the Doctor to convert local time for her and he did so, albeit with some annoyance at first, and Rose managed to keep track of the days.

Then they arrived back on the TARDIS after a particularly exhausting few days on a planet where Rose had accidentally insulted a child of a very proud noble family and what followed included exploding fruit, a prison cell, escaping, and a mob of the angry humanoid ferret-like creatures that were indigenous to the planet. Needless to say, Rose had been tired and she'd collapsed into bed without marking off her calendar. It wasn't until a few days later that she realized what she'd done, or rather, hadn't done, and immediately went in search of her Time Lord.

This happened several times over the period of two months and finally one day when Rose asked, he'd sighed with great annoyance, and given her a withering look. It wasn't that it was difficult to calculate things for her, it was child's play, but he really didn't see the point of bothering with something as trivial as a calendar to keep track of time's passing and asked Rose why she thought she needed a calendar. She came up with several reasons that he'd shot down as reasons why she wanted one, not why she needed one. She'd scowled at him, a real Tyler look, one that he didn't fancy being on the receiving end of since he knew a slap was likely to follow, so he gave her real answers.

To keep track of holidays. Why? He could just land them there whenever he wanted.

To keep track of the months. Again, why? A month was a measure of time that was completely meaningless almost everywhere in the Universe.

To know when it's my mum's birthday. Time. Machine.

So I can know when I turn twenty. He didn't have a suitable answer for that one. Landing the TARDIS on her birth date wouldn't work–she wouldn't have aged a year. It would just be another day. He'd stared at her for a long minute, debating. It had to be important to her or else she wouldn't have mentioned it and he felt compelled to help her. Already he'd found himself going to ridiculous lengths to keep her happy, his past selves scoffed at this strange desire to please his companion.

Finally, he'd asked the date and promised to let her know when enough relative time had passed. And he had, not long before the Gamestation. While she was asleep, Jack had snuck off and got a cake and some chips, and the Doctor had obliged her request to take her home. They couldn't land on the date of her actual twentieth birthday, as Rose was technically still missing as of then, but Jackie was more than pleased to know he'd bothered keeping track for her.

She was pretty sure a year had passed since then. It certainly felt like a year. But the Doctor hadn't said anything. Maybe he'd forgotten? Or maybe he just didn't want to mention it because it would upset her that she couldn't go home this time. Jackie Tyler was gone, living in a parallel universe with Mickey, and that universe's version of Pete Tyler.

Rose managed to swallow past the sudden lump in her throat and gave her head a small shake, taking a deep breath and letting it out quickly. She'd have to ask him. She could put twenty-one down and be done with it, but she honestly wanted to know.

"Doctor, how old am I?"

The Doctor turned, frowning at her. "What?"

"How old am I? Remember, you promised me you'd let me know when a year had passed."

"I did, didn't I?" he murmured to himself. He leaned back, staring into space for a moment, then sighed. "You're twenty-one," he said at last. "Your birthday was a few weeks ago. Not long after…after Donna."

Not long after saying goodbye to her mum, then. Her 'birthday' must have occurred sometime during the grief that followed. No wonder he hadn't mentioned it.

"Oh," she said.

"I'm sorry I didn't say anything."

"It's fine," she said briskly, scrawling 21 into the blank.

Only then did the Doctor realize why she'd asked, and he'd chuckled. "Look at the date today, Rose." He gestured to the little flip calendar on the reception desk. She stared for a moment blankly, then realized what he was getting at, gritted her teeth and changed the 21 to 22.

Time travel was complicated business.

After returning the clipboard to the receptionist for her since Rose was supposed to be feeling ill, the Doctor returned to the waiting area and went over the list of things she was supposed to be feeling that made her want to check into the hospital. They'd come late in the day, making her problem seem severe enough to keep her overnight, but not enough that she'd need to be closely monitored, giving the Doctor a chance to do some snooping. The nature of her problem had regulated them to a public ward, and that meant no privacy except for the curtain and no telly for entertainment as they waited for night to fall.

A nurse came by to bring Rose a light meal and addressed the Time Lord who was watching his companion with amusement as she regarded the meager food she'd presented with. "Are you planning on staying the night, Mr. Tyler?"

"Just John, please, and yes," he said, smiling at the man.

"Well, we have a lounge and a canteen downstairs if you need food. I can bring you a blanket if you'd like."

"I'll be fine," the Doctor assured him. "Thank you."

The nurse smiled and left them be.

"Cranberry juice," Rose growled in disgust, holding up the plastic container. "Who even likes this?"

"I might. I haven't had a chance to try any in this body." The Doctor looked at the plastic container curiously and held out his hand. "Give it here."

She handed it to him and he tore open the seal, lifting the cup to his mouth. She waited, watching his face as his nose wrinkled ever so slightly. He swallowed, flicking his tongue a few times, and smacking his lips. He looked down at the container and shrugged. "Eh, I've had worse. Better than pears, at least. I don't think that's…ah there, you see?" he turned it and she squinted to read the tiny print. "Made from concentrate. Figures. After we're done here, I'm going to take you to a place with proper fruit juice, nothing processed."

"Where's that, then?" she asked.

He grinned. "Earth, of course, a thousand or so years into the past. We'll find a nice pub, or something."

"With your driving, we'll probably end up in the crusades."

"Oi! My driving is not that bad!"

"Twelve months," she reminded him lightly. "1979…1879."

He gave her a look. "Eat your food, Rose," he said before finishing off the cranberry juice.

Rose was tempted to ignore him and the unappealing meal she'd been presented with, but her stomach decided to remind her then that she hadn't had anything to eat today except chips. The Doctor heard and gestured to the tray firmly. Sighing, Rose picked up the spoon from her tray and ate the only appetizing thing on there: applesauce. Around midnight, after the overhead lights had been dimmed for sleeping, her hunger roared back in full force and she glowered at the Doctor who had taken to examining the various tools and bits on the wall behind her to occupy himself. It took a minute or so, but he finally noticed her glare.

"What?"

"You had to say I had stomach pains, didn't you?" she hissed.

"What?" he asked, bemused.

"They think I got something wrong in my stomach. The only thing I've had to eat today is those chips and the applesauce, Doctor."

"Well, you've still got more food here on the…" he trailed off when her glare intensified. "Sorry? Um…" He dug around his jacket pockets. "Let me see if I've got anything…ah, no…nope…paperclips, you don't like paperclips, do you? Didn't think so. Jelly babies? No, you probably wouldn't want those–they've been in here a while. You might actually have stomach problems, then." He moved on to the pockets of the blue suit he'd discovered in the wardrobe the other day and had taken a liking to. "Oh, here, I've got a banana," he offered, producing the piece of fruit.

It didn't look too brown or bruised so Rose accepted it gratefully.

"I'll sneak you something better from the canteen tomorrow when it opens," he promised, standing up. "But for now, you should try to get some sleep. I'm going to go take a look around. Try and figure out why someone's got coils around this hospital."

"What do they do?" Rose asked. "Those plasma coils, I mean."

"Oh, a number of things, really. There's probably something going on in here and now'd be the best time to check it out. Will you be alright?"

Rose swallowed, then smiled, trying to appear normal. "Yeah. Yeah, I'll be fine. Go on. Sooner we figure this out, sooner we can go."

The Doctor gave her a long look before leaning down to kiss her forehead. "I'll be back soon."

As soon as he left, pulling the curtains closed behind him, Rose sagged and tilted her head back to stare at the dark ceiling. She knew he probably hadn't been fooled. No, she was not all right, not even close. She hadn't been able to sleep without him near since Canary Wharf. Before then she'd preferred having him near when she slept, but she didn't panic if she woke up in the middle of the night after a nightmare and he wasn't around.

The old nightmares of her mum being turned into one of the Cybermen had returned after the incident, taking turns with the rest of her nightmares about that day. The pull of the Void becoming too much and sucking her in, or the Doctor being sucked in, because the Doctor's lever had malfunctioned and he'd had to let go of his clamp to set it right. If he hadn't been as strong as he was, she would've lost him to the Void, and she would have been alone and earthbound.

One night, she'd seen Pete (who had returned to their universe for a second, just to make sure Rose was alright and then had left as quickly as he'd arrived) get sucked into the Void before he could teleport away. Sometimes the nightmares mixed. The most common was the Cyber version of her mother appearing, unaffected by the Void, and shoving both her and the Doctor into the Void, or just one of them.

After the first time she woke up without him, screaming so loud he'd heard her on the other side of the TARDIS and found her curled up in the space between her bed and the wall, he took to spending all night with her. Sometimes he'd sit off to the side and tinker with something, sometimes he'd sit silent vigil over her all night, and sometimes they'd both fall asleep in each other's arms.

She'd pretend if any nurses came by to check on her, but she was absolutely certain she wouldn't be getting any sleep until the Doctor was back in the chair next to her. And he probably knew it, too. He'd be worried, distracted, and unable to focus completely on his search. He'd cut it short. He'd be back a lot sooner than he should. She hated being a burden, though he'd deny she was.

Rose closed her eyes and sighed. In the back of her mind, the place where the TARDIS always was, she felt a pulse of comfort. Ever since the Gamestation, even though she couldn't really remember doing things as the Bad Wolf, she had been closer to the TARDIS. Always feeling her, always sensing. The only time she'd lost that connection was on Krop Tor. The Doctor had told her what happened after she looked into the TARDIS, though she got the feeling he'd omitted some parts. He said he'd pulled it all out of her, but she now knew, even if he didn't, that whatever he'd done hadn't worked, not entirely.

In the Torchwood lab, when the Doctor had activated those Huon particles, Donna's entire body had glowed. Rose had heard singing. It was a familiar song, like something she'd dreamed once but had never quite forgotten. It made her feel safe and powerful. It had made her want to curl up on the ground and just listen. It made her want to throw her head back and howl to the universe.

All eyes had been on Donna, then, no one had noticed Rose, until the Empress had both girls fastened up with Lance and activated the particles, trying to draw them out. But they hadn't wanted to leave Rose, and her entire body had rebelled. Donna had noticed, then, when Rose had screamed. Rose's eyes had apparently glowed vibrant gold while the singing echoed soundly in her head and she'd lost consciousness. Apparently her screams and the sight of her unconscious had been enough to rob the Doctor of any mercy he may have been feeling. When she'd woken up later on the TARDIS, Donna had questioned her softly while the Doctor piloted them, and Rose hadn't been able to explain it, not in a way Donna would understand, only asking she didn't tell the Doctor.

Rose opened her eyes again. She'd have to tell him sooner or later. She'd chosen later, if only to avoid putting more stress on him. Deadly, he'd said. They would've killed Donna, they'd forced him to regenerate, but they still existed within Rose.

"Look, inside your eyes, you've seen it too. The wolf, there is something of the wolf about you."

The Bad Wolf created herself, a unity between the ancient ship and the young human, both of whom loved the Doctor, to save his life. Was it so hard to believe that neither of them had truly wanted to sever that connection? That it remained: a small link, unnoticeable unless someone played around with Huon particles? It sure explained what the wolf had said, why the words Bad Wolf kept popping up even now (she'd seen them earlier on a flyer on a bulletin board in the lobby), and why Rose could always sense their ship.

Deadly. But they weren't killing her, were they? The Doctor would have noticed by now. They were still there, though. That had to mean something. And now that she knew, now that she was back on her feet, the longer she waited to tell him meant the angrier he'd be.

She'd tell him, she decided, when they'd sorted the hospital out and they were safely in the Time Vortex.

As she'd predicted, the clock registered that not even an hour passed before the curtains rustled and instead of a nurse, she saw the lanky form of her Doctor step through. She opened her eyes immediately and stared at him as he crossed to sit in the chair beside her bed again.

"You're not asleep." He didn't sound surprised.

"Doctor," she whispered, "you can't tell me you searched the entire hospital yet."

"Didn't need to," he said.

"What did you find?"

"Nothing," he said. "I scanned a few places, poked my nose in a few others. There isn't any odd or alien technology–nothing that Earth shouldn't already have, anyway."

"Earth has alien technology? Like what?"

"Oh…microwave ovens," he said matter-of-factly.

Rose blinked, nonplussed. "Seriously?" He nodded. "Microwave ovens were made by aliens?"

"Of course!" the Doctor said. "Using electromagnetic waves to rapidly heat food. Do you really think some stupid ape could come up with something as clever as that?"

"So the bloke who invented it…"

"Yep, alien," he said and then abruptly his demeanor changed. "Or he worked for Torchwood."

And with that, the humor was sucked from the atmosphere. Rose looked away, staring intently at the solid blue curtains surrounding the bed, and the Doctor cleared his throat. "So, ah, whatever the reason for those plasma coils, it isn't an object. Which means it's probably a person."

Silence met his words as they both contemplated what that meant. Rose looked down at her hands. "Doctor. There's hundreds of people here."

"I know."

"Patients and staff."

"I know."

"So…we're just gonna wait until something happens?"

"I'll try to get a look at patient and staff records tomorrow," he said. "Find out if anyone's been admitted recently with unusual symptoms, or any new employees. Might look for zippers on foreheads. …Though from the looks of those coils, I'd say we don't have long."

"Until what?"

"Until something happens, because you can't have that many coils built up without repercussions…unless, of course, someone is causing them to build up on purpose, which also means they should be along soon."

"Fantastic," she grumbled, then yawned loudly. "Ah, sorry."

The Doctor gazed at her, his features soft, and lifted his hand to stroke her hair. "We'll worry about it tomorrow. You sleep now, Rose. I'm not going anywhere."

She smiled at him, shifting around in the bed until she was comfortable, then slipping her hand into his hand while the other continued to brush a gentle, soothing rhythm across her head. He leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to her temple, and after a moment began humming to her softly. The TARDIS pitched in, sending a gentle, comforting hum into the back of Rose's mind. Rose fell asleep to the voice of the man she loved in her ears and the voice of the ship she loved in her head.

So please, review! Tell people! If you do I'll give you a whole bag of cookies! Well...half a bag. Well...one cookie. Okay, I don't have any cookies. But if I did, I would give them. ...You know what? Now I want a cookie. Of the chocolate chip variety. WENDY! COME! WE ARE GOING TO GET COOKIES!