Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who.

I may change the rating – genre/type as the story progresses. The current rating and genre reflects what I've written so far, but assuming I continue the way I've got it mapped, I'm going to have to change it.

Once again, I'd really love some reviews – you'd absolutely make my month

Chapter 4

"Rule number one…" he said, guiding her back to the bed, "You must not go to work within hours… literally just a few hours… of being shot in the chest…" okay so he was making it sound worse than it was but seriously, what was she thinking?

"Rule number two," he continued, "you do not, I repeat NOT, leave this house unless you are with me or Jack… preferably both of us." He added. He caught her chin between his thumb and finger and carefully turned her face towards him.

"Got that?" he demanded, then checked himself. He was so on edge just now, he didn't mean to keep snapping at her, he really didn't. "Promise me, Rose." He lowered his voice to a more gentle tone, catching her eyes with his, trying to show her his concern.

She nodded, the movement slightly hampered by his hand on her chin. "I promise." She whispered.

"Good." He took a deep breath, his face set, trying to suppress the images of her bleeding, the gut wrenching fear he'd felt when he'd seen the wound in her chest. It could have been so much worse but it was bad enough. He could still hear her screams as he injected the local anaesthetic and it filled him with irreversible guilt. This should never have happened. If he hadn't gone to Cardiff to refuel, if he had just done as he'd asked and stayed with her rather than running off – the Master would still be trapped at the end of the universe, not even knowing who he was and Rose would be safe. Well as safe as she could be in the circumstances…

dwdwdwdwdwdwdw

Rose had called her boss saying that she wouldn't be in work again, she'd phoned in sick the previous evening when the Doctor and Jack had turned up but had promised she'd be back in tonight. She played the sick card again, but she knew her boss wasn't buying it and had to endure an earful before she got off the phone. She really hoped she hadn't lost her job, with the situation with the Doctor as it was and with the TARDIS not letting her in, assuming he even got it back, she needed a regular source of income.

She joined them in the living room, a little shaken after her call. The doctor was tinkering with something on the coffee table, the sight reminding her of happier times, struck a bitter-sweet chord within her. Jack had her laptop open on his knees and was engrossed in whatever it was he was reading but he looked up as she came in.

"You okay? You don't look so good?"

She nodded. "Just got a right bollocking for not going into work!" She complained, wincing slightly as the Doctor frowned at her choice of language. "Sorry." She apologised quickly. "Is there anything I can do to help?" she hovered in the doorway, feeling a little bit out of place, even though this had been her home since she was born.

The Doctor and Jack both shook their heads. The Doctor looked up briefly. "You should get something to eat; you've not had anything since this morning."

Neither have you! She wanted to retort, but she held her tongue. At least he seemed to be speaking to her now; sort of… even so, the atmosphere between them was still thick and uncomfortable. She sighed.

"Right." She said, "Right, well I'll just…" she shrugged uncertainly and went into the kitchen, thinking she'd make herself a cup of tea, she wasn't particularly hungry.

The sight of Jack's whisky bottle made her pause for thought though…. Miles better than tea right? And Jack wouldn't mind. The Doctor probably would, probably react as if she'd destroyed the whole space-time continuum or something… again. She snorted to herself. But really, where was the harm? It wasn't like she was going to be driving or anything. And it wasn't like she had to tell him about it.

She glanced behind her guiltily, although she was three years over the legal drinking age, suddenly she felt like a teenager sneaking her parents booze while they were out, she stifled a giggle at how ridiculous that was. This was her bloody flat now her mum was gone, she could do whatever she wanted!

She was just gulping down the third, generous, neat tumbler-full, still wincing and gasping a little from the fiery burn in her throat, when the Doctor came into the kitchen.