Chapter 6

The sunshine didn't go with what she saw before her. It was strong and gold as evening approached and streamed in through the window, hot and bright.

It didn't manage to fall on John's face, pale as the death that awaited him except for the black circles under his eyes. Rose had moved the curtains so they blocked the sun away from him because none of the nurses were apparently considerate enough to do so themselves. Even though they knew he had a dangerously high fever that hadn't gone down in weeks. And wasn't going to.

They were sending in a new nurse to help them today, mainly because Rose was upset and snippety with all of them and had frightened most of them away by now. She tried not to be, but it seemed like it couldn't be helped. There was no outlet that came with the frustration of total helplessness as you watched your husband die.

John was almost as restless in comatose as he had been when he was conscious. He wasn't even really John any more. He was the Doctor. Every bit the same, except that his body was half human and couldn't handle the… everything… that was the Doctor.

Rose had cried every tear she had inside of her, enough to last for years to come. And she'd pounded the fluff out of so many pillows there was no more energy for looking after the kids. And she'd slept so much she couldn't sleep any more.

All that was left to do was wait.

Rose hated waiting as much as she knew he did. Especially now that he was basically the Doctor.

A warning knock on the door was followed by the entrance of a fairly young man, probably in his early thirties, in blue scrubs whose expression was neither piteous nor uncaring. Just—helpful, perhaps. Rose sighed as she leaned her head back against the chair she'd been sitting in for—she didn't even know how long, probably hours. At last they had someone who wasn't insanely annoying. Or at least she hoped he wasn't.

She wasn't in the mood to be nice, however. "Get in here; it's been way too long since we had assistance," she barked in a semi-hoarse voice, not moving her head and allowing herself the luxury of closing her eyes for a brief second. Wasn't like she had anything else to do.

"Yes, 'm," was the humble response, and the male nurse set about checking all the monitors and IV bags, making as little noise as possible without losing efficiency. "Is there…anything I can help you or your husband with, other than the basics?"

Rose sighed a very, very long sigh. "Yehhh…" she droned, stretching a little in her chair. "Cuppa tea would be the universe…" she narrowed her eyes at the nurse. "But you're not a waiter now, are you?"

He wasn't fazed for a second. "I'll be right back," he assured her, stepping out. Within five minutes he was back with a steaming cup. Rose's eyes widened in spite of herself as she inhaled the scent and took her first sip as he handed it to her, not caring as much as she thought she would that it tasted as bad as any of the hospital stuff.

"Tea!" she smiled wryly, saying it a lot louder than she'd meant to. "Superheated infusion of free radicals and tannin. Just the thing for healin' the synapses. Eh?!"

The nurse looked at her weird at the outburst, but she reached over, and with a very fake cheerfulness, patted John's arm as he tossed in his sleep. "Think tea'd be just the thing now, babe? Nope, sorry, cause this time we need a bit more than that!" She pulled away and sat back in her chair, laughing hysterically; angrily.

The nurse continued to watch with a bewildered expression on his already blank-looking face. "—Ma'am, perhaps you should—maybe—lie down."

She stopped for the briefest moment, surveying him with great interest for the first time. "Really? Am I going mad? I must be going mad!" she burst into hysterics a second time, nearly laughing herself right out of her chair. The nurse took a step toward her and she held up her hands, still laughing. "I'm fine!"

Quickly enough that she had no time to react, he was standing beside her, with an experienced arm around her shoulders, helping her stand and ushering her out of the room. She kept protesting, but in between fits of laughter, she didn't fight his movements. "No, really; Sir, I'm fine—I'm just—fine—I really am; I know—"

"Ma'am, you've got to come with me. You've got to rest—you've got children who need you well!"

It was the longest string of words that'd come out of the nurse's mouth so far.

Rose threw her head back and laughed again. "I'm not worried 'bout my children," she chuckled, shaking her head at him. "They're with their grandparents. They've got lots of money, their grandparents. Lots an' lots of it—they're the Vitex owners, you know. Pete and Jackie Tyler? They've got lots of money…"

The nurse looked bewildered for a moment, but still held her tightly by his side to keep her from running off. "Kids don't—live off of money, Mrs. Smith."

"Mine do!" Rose exclaimed happily.

He gave her a look of major concern as he gently but firmly pushed her out the door of her husband's room and down the hall. "Alright, Ma'am, we need to lay you down for a bit," he said in an authoritative tone, pulling her beside him despite her continued protests.

With his free hand, he pushed open the door to the room she'd been allowed to stay in for several nights. Gleefully, Rose, pushed back against his average build and tried to leave, but he escorted her in and had her shoes off, sitting her down on the bed before she could blink again. "Now, go to sleep for a bit, Mrs. Smith. I'll wake you up if there's any change in your husband."

Rose gave him a mindless smile. "Promise?" she asked in a cheerful tone, pulling the blankets over her head.

"Um, yeah; promise," was the reassuring reply.