Rose hadn't felt warmth for what felt like ages.

Her fingers and her toes went pale and bluish some time ago. The tip of her nose was numb and cold as an icicle, and she could swear that her eyes were covered in a thin film of ice, the one like on the windows when it was too cold. The Doctor would have probably called her silly for thinking this, but the Doctor didn't have to know all of the thoughts in her brain, did he?

Rose sniffed miserably. She would have given her new trainers and her alien perfume collection (even the scent that changed according to her mood!) just to hear him admonish her one more time.

It certainly would distract her from the alarming tingling sensation in her feet and her hands, and it would for sure stop the sad, dark pit of depression from forming in her soul.

Rose exhaled with a shudder that was half from cold and half from fear that had been progressively creeping into her mind. It's been what, an hour? An hour and a half? She wanted to check her wrist watch that she kept on wearing despite the Doctor's nagging about how pointless it was. Only she couldn't, not when the stupid aliens rendered her immobile by tying her hands to the ring in the wall.

So, Rose didn't know how long it had been since she was locked in the equivalent of a Cluxcconian freezer for trespassing the laws of modesty, but it felt like hours. Ridiculous. Barbaric. Middle ages-like. The Doctor didn't warn her about the rules of the location they'd landed in. Either he had no idea - not that he'd ever admit being wrong or not knowing something, or he decided that it wasn't important for Rose to be aware of.

Apparently, showing her shoulders off was peak impropriety. The people of Cluxcc all turned their eyes away upon seeing Rose 'undressed' at the National Fair Event, clicking their tongues at her appearance. Later on, she'd been trialled for public indecency and obscene behaviour at the local court. Well, it might have been a misjudgement on Rose's part to struggle, insult the peacekeepers and the judge who accused her of numerous mortal sins despite her being a tourist, of course, but still.

Not knowing the law didn't excuse her from being punished for breaking it, it seemed.

And so, Rose wasn't given a lawyer or a defender of any kind, and the sentence was to be effective immediately - hence the freezer and the death by cold.

As Rose said, barbaric.

It was no wonder that there were no tourists at the fair, just lots and lots of people wearing clothes of a certain shade although they weren't all covered by fabric. That was the reason why Rose didn't think much of her own appearance - and she certainly didn't think twice before wearing a cute blue tank top to the outing. The Doctor said that it was positively sweltering, after all.

She should have known.

Rose found the strength to execute a pathetic kick with her leg, quietly exclaiming:

"Fucking aliens from the fucking stone age. Cowards, the lot of you. I may well fucking die here, but the Doctor will rain his anger on you," she sniffed again, coughed and tried to curl into a smaller ball as much as she could. "None of the stone age law for you all, and I bet he will make the governor eat the fucking law book, too."

The Doctor would surely threaten to wash her tongue with a bar of soap if he heard that. Lord knows both the Doctor and the TARDIS didn't tolerate swearing of any kind.

Even if Rose knew that the Doctor might not get there in time, that there was, indeed, a possibility of her dying there in the stupid alien ice box, she tried to stay calm and clear minded.

Well, as much as possible.

Which wasn't all that possible. Not when she felt herself literally going blue from the freezing air, not when it's already been an hour something per her calculations, not when her arms were tied behind her back to the wall so that she couldn't even walk and get warmer.

Not when her phone was confiscated by the peacekeepers, too.

Rose moaned, thumped the back of her head on the wall and kicked her legs again. Gosh, her bum didn't even feel like it was hers because of the cold, and her mother's words chose this moment to haunt her.

"Don't sit on the stone, love! Or any cold surfaces. The consequences will drive you insane, they will. Lord knows I made this mistake once, never again!"

Yeah, well. It was not like Rose had any choice in sitting on the stone cold floor, was it?

She let out another shaky breath, puffing her lips. She could feel her growing number still, and on top of that she was starting to feel a bit sleepy. Rose knew it was a bad, bad sign. The last words were pronounced with the Doctor's voice in her mind, following his exaggerated intonation patterns, and it made Rose chuckle.

Oh, Doctor.

He would surely blame himself into a dark, dank hole when she died.

It was all quite depressing and unromantic, quite frankly. There were no visions of her life dancing in front of her eyes, no tears running down her cheeks (they were probably frozen inside her eyes by that moment), no nostalgic smile on her face due to sweet memories of her childhood and early teenagehood.

All Rose could think about was the Doctor and her mum. Oh, God, mum…she'd kill the Doctor for 'not keeping her safe' , no matter how stupid that sounded to Rose. She was quite capable of taking care of herself, and there was many a time it was Rose who helped the Doctor to weasel out of tight spots and not-so-fun shenanigans.

It was quite upsetting that this was going to be Rose's last adventure. And that it wasn't a pleasurable one; that she didn't get to go out with the proverbial 'bang', or that she didn't die by saving someone's life, for a good cause.

Oh, God, thought Rose. She was going to die, and she was going to die alone, and it would be a vain, stupid death, and she'd be all alone to boot.

And her mum and the Doctor would be devastated, and he'd spiral into depression and avoid company, and her mum would be all alone with no one to check on her when she needed that, and…

Rose dropped her head in defeat. Her chin grazed her chest, and she suddenly realised that her teeth were chattering quite violently. Now, Rose knew that that was a good sign, the teeth chattering and the shivering, so she rejoiced in that.

Well, it was a matter of rejoicing if the Doctor was aware where she was and what happened to her, and it was a depressing thought if she were to spend longer suffering from the cold if her body was still fighting.

Rose scrunched her eyes shut forcefully, attempting once again to wriggle out of the ropes that were wrapped around her wrists in tight loops. She yelped when the ropes scratched at her now-cold skin, it felt as though her skin became paper-thin, susceptible to the tiniest of painful touches. Nevertheless, Rose persisted. She gritted her teeth, which was a feat of its own with how much they were chattering.

It was all for nothing, though, she had to admit after several minutes of struggling. Panting, Rose leaned her head onto the wall behind her, and closed her eyes.

At least she had a bit of warmth running through her body now.

Her bum, though, felt mercilessly cold, and she mulled over the ideas of gynaecological problems lazily.

She'd have to be alive to deal with the consequences of this ice therapy. Right.

Rose chuckled again, then gasped as a particularly strong shiver ran down her spine. She wanted desperately to rub her palms to get some measure of comfort, but couldn't. She kicked her leg again, cursing the aliens and their unethical laws, then closed her eyes.

The harsh, buzzing lights of the freezer seemed too much all of a sudden, and it felt better to block them by closing her eyes.

After that, it didn't take long for her to not fall asleep but to drift into a half-asleep, half-awakened state. Rose was still annoyed by the lights' incessant noises, and the cold air kept on biting on her uncovered arms and shoulders, but the brightness of the freezer was dulled at least.

The next thing Rose knew was the Doctor's voice calling out to her urgently.

"Rose? Rose! Come on now, this is not the time and place for a nap," he joked, or tried to, Rose thought, because his voice sounded too strained for humour.

Rose opened her eyes, and while she wanted to start jumping with joy upon seeing the Doctor's dear, even if worried, face, and for being alive, everything suddenly felt like too much effort. Rose realised that she still was shivering, and quite violently, and that she absolutely couldn't feel anything but cold in her hands and legs.

The Doctor took her face in his hands, holding it in-between his palms, and he was stroking her cheeks carefully. His touch felt like fire, and Rose swore that he felt like a furnace, she could almost feel the warmth radiating from his body.

"Rose? Can you hear me? Do you know where you are?" the Doctor queried, sounding worried still.

"Can understand you," she replied, and although she felt clear in her head, her tongue refused to follow the order to form adequate words. "'M just too," she said, a shudder breaking her speech, "cold. Cold, Doctor."

Rose was only trying to explain that she was okay, and honestly very happy to see him, but it came out as a lament.

The Doctor smiled. It was a tight, tense smile, but Rose hummed, elated, and smiled in return.

Or tried to. Her lips weren't doing very well with the orders, either.

And then, the Doctor's eyes focused on something behind her back and swore. Rose didn't know the language, not at all, but for some reason it sounded like the Doctor was swearing.

It was a long sentence.

Suddenly, he was out of her line of vision, and Rose yelped when she felt something touch her bound hands.

"Sorry, sorry, it won't be long, I'll have you out in a jiffy," he soothed, and Rose exhaled harshly as he kept on working on freeing her hands. "Just a bit more, Rose, that's a good girl," he encouraged. One part of Rose rolled her eyes at his words, but the other, bigger part, preened, pleased at his kind praise.

Oh, this cold must have caused some brain damage if she was thinking this with the Doctor so close to her.

She bit her lower lip to prevent herself from letting out any more cries only to wince at how tender her lips felt. Oh, God, she hoped the Doctor would be quick at tearing the ropes.

A triumphant 'aha!' broke the frozen air around them, and the Doctor was manoeuvring her hands back into her lap.

"There we go," he drawled out, genuinely happy, and started examining her fingers one by one. Rose cocked her head to the side, fascinated at the sudden contrast between her and the Doctor's skin colour.

"I'm blue!" she cried, surprised.

The Doctor looked at her, smiled brilliantly and squeezed her fingers gently.

"It won't last," he reassured. "There's no damage, no frostbite yet, they let me in just in time," as he said that, his brow furrowed and his eyes darkened. Then, as quickly as the thunderous mood came over it, it was gone. "But you're good, always a fighter, Rose Tyler, and will be good if I have any say in this."

Rose just stared at him, wide-eyed and bewildered, confused by his ever-changing moods.

"Do you think you could stand up? The TARDIS awaits."

Rose nodded eagerly and attempted to stand up on her own only to teeter to the left and almost tumble down as if she was drunk.

"Oh," she let out, surprised. She didn't feel drunk, so why was her coordination wacky?

The Doctor was there to catch her. "Alright. Up you go, then. The Doctor Express. Only the best driving experience for the VIP clients, and you, Rose Tyler, are the lucky VIP passenger tonight."

Bless. Rose didn't know if to go 'awww' on him or to snog him senselessly for attempting to keep her spirits up while she's feeling so poorly. She went for a safe option.

"I want," she started, then stumbled over her words, "the seat by the window."

It worked.

The Doctor chortled, gave her the quickest hug possible, and then he was shedding his coat off him.

"Let's get you warmed up. Blue is not the look I like on my companions," he muttered as he wrapped the coat around her shoulders, placing one lapel across the other as he left none of her skin uncovered.

And oh. Oh, the jacket was mercifully warm. A blissful smile bloomed on her face. Rose felt drunk on happiness, some warmth and the Doctor's presence, and so she blamed her lowered inhibitions on what she did next.

She burrowed her nose into the coat's collar and took a non-subtle sniff.

It smelled heavenly.

Like the Doctor did.

"Love this smell," Rose murmured while the Doctor was busy picking her up and arranging her in his arms comfortably. "Smells so…you."

The Doctor let out a short, sudden exhale but marched out of the freezer cell steadily, and Rose felt as if she was flying, flowing. His gait was smooth, even, and it was clear that he was trying to jostle her as little as possible while he was walking.

Rose sighed, hummed, happy to be with the Doctor again, and alive no less, and closed her eyes, leaning her head onto the Doctor's collarbone.

Oh God, it felt as if she died and went to heaven. Here she was, cradled in the Doctor's arms securely, under his undiluted attention, wearing his coat, travelling towards the TARDIS where he would surely make her feel squeaky-new again, possibly treat her to some indulgence…what could be better…

"Now, Rose, don't go falling asleep on me," the Doctor mock-admonished her. "Come on, now, you were doing such a bang-up job of staying alive before I found you. Don't go slacking on me now."

Rose whined, offended.

"'M not sleeping! 'M thinking."

"And what is Rose Tyler thinking of?" the Doctor asked, his breath not even hitching between his steady walk, carrying her and talking.

"The TARDIS," Rose lied smoothly. She couldn't very well say that she was lusting after the Doctor's undivided affection, could she?

"Oh. I see. Sorry, then," the Doctor said, but he didn't sound sorry, he sounded a bit anxious. Rose lazily wondered why. "Still, don't you dare falling asleep, the TARDIS is waiting, and I promise that if you stay awake, I'll make you some top-quality tea and even throw in some blueberry muffins on top," he cajoled.

"Cheapskate," Rose teased. "I knew you were holding those muffins away from me, and you never, never make tea," she lamented as she slapped his chest slightly.

The Doctor laughed, and Rose felt some tension chip off his mood.

The walk to the TARDIS was quiet and uneventful from there on.

When the Doctor stepped through the TARDIS (the doors opened to him without the key, miraculously), it took no time for them to move from the console room to the med bay.

The Doctor deposited Rose onto the squishy cot of the med bay. He then rushed to the settings panel and made the TARDIS warm the air in the infirmary. Rose still felt chill resigning steadily in her body, and she clutched the coat's lapels tighter to her chest.

She never, ever wanted to part with the coat again.

It felt as though only a moment passed by before the Doctor appeared in Rose's line of vision.

For some reason unfathomable to Rose, the Doctor looked properly worried this time.

"Rose?"

She raised her eyes to meet his.

"Hm?"

"Are you feeling alright? You have been away with the fairies, it seems."

The Doctor smiled gently, sweetly, but Rose practically tasted the anxiety emanating from him.

She shook her head, and her hair, messed up because of her fighting with the aliens, got into her face. She blew at it, too tired to actually take her hands out of the sanctuary of the Doctor's coat and tuck it behind her ears.

Suddenly, the Doctor's fingers were brushing Rose's cheeks, and he tenderly swept the unruly hair away from her eyes.

The tips of his fingers lingered on her apple cheeks, and Rose couldn't override her body, her soul's desire to be comforted.

She leaned into the Doctor's palms, nuzzling like a cat. She felt slightly - or not slightly - drunk, and brave, and so she didn't think about the consequences of her actions at that time.

Consequences could all rot in hell for what Rose cared about, along with the nasty aliens who all but turned her into a frozen package of lasagna.

"Rose? Rose?" the Doctor called out to her again, sounding properly nervous then. "Come on," he urged, but Rose stayed passive, feeling pleasantly sleepy and mellow with her face cradled between the Doctor's hands.

Rose didn't see it, but the Doctor nodded to himself resolutely. He then proceeded to take off his coat off her, and Rose whined, insulted that he would ever be so cruel to her.

"C-cold," she moaned. The Doctor kept muttering something that sounded remotely like an apology, but all Rose cared about was the cold that was still biting at her skin.

"Rose," the Doctor said sternly. Her head snapped up, and she looked into his eyes, not understanding the reason for his unexplained displeasure. He lowered his face to her eye level. "We must get you out of these clothes and into some warm ones. Come on," he said as he unwrapped Rose's fingers around his coat's lapels. Rose sighed ruefully but dropped her head and allowed the Doctor to take the precious garment away.

She felt like crying.

Still, he persisted. In mere moments, he had her raise her hands up and took her top off. Not a single muscle moved on his face as he helped her into a cotton t-shirt and a fuzzy cardigan from her own wardrobe. Rose puzzled over about where the Doctor could possibly take her things from, but her thoughts stopped entirely when he crouched down in front of the cot and reached his hands to her jeans' buttons.

Rose gulped, unsure about the whole arrangement and its implications on their relationship, and then her eyes wandered to the left when she tried to remember what knickers she had on that morning.

Only to close her eyes and cringe when she remembered that she hadn't shaved her legs for five days.

Crikey. That's not how she wanted the Doctor to see her.

Did Time Lords care about the hairy legs of their partners?

Rose cared a lot.

She frowned when she realised that the Doctor was talking to her, and she spaced out, again.

"Rose? Come on, up you go, look, the TARDIS has prepared your favourite pyjama bottoms," he coaxed, helping her move her hips off the med bay bed.

Rose obliged. She was pouting mere moments later, offended at the Doctor's lack of interest in her knickers.

Turns out she had on a pretty, pink number on her that day, and he didn't even bat an eye at her underwear.

Rose sniffed, feeling not only cold but properly miserable then.

The Doctor wasn't interested in her that way, of course he wasn't .

Rose was ready to smack herself for fancying that the Doctor would react to her being half-naked. He wouldn't, she knew that for sure now. Just friends, that's who they were, and her cold-affected brain decided that they could be something more for some reason.

Rose slumped her shoulders as soon as the Doctor helped her out of her jeans and into her pyjama bottoms. His movements were clean, precise, medical even, and Rose pouted at her silly fantasies about the Doctor being attracted to her body.

Silly her.

"Rose? What's wrong, are you feeling worse? Does it hurt somewhere?" the Doctor queried, placing his hands onto her shoulders and squeezing them slightly.

Rose shook her head mulishly, deciding not to share her woes with him. Oh, she wanted to do so much. She wanted to shake him and demand to explain why he couldn't love her, why he couldn't reciprocate her feelings. Rose craved to know what it was about her that didn't appeal to him romantically, physically, what was the reason for his firm lines about what was allowed between them.

Only Rose knew that, and boy, didn't it make her feel like a right cow that she thought these thoughts about her sweet, kind, selfless, broken-hearted Doctor that moment.

She knew why he'd never be able to let go of his gone people's rules, and she understood, deep in her heart, that her human lifespan was a painful reason for their never-ending 'we are friend, not lovers' stage.

Rose sighed again, properly downtrodden now.

The Doctor fretted.

"Rose? Are you sure nothing hurts? No, no, this won't do, let me check you up," he nodded to himself resolutely, then he dashed to one of the med bay's cupboards and brought a thin penlight with him.

"I'm fine," Rose protested.

"Even so, let me check," the Doctor insisted and took her chin in his left arm, placing the penlight in front of her eyes. "Follow my finger, please."

Rose exhaled, annoyed, but did as she was bidden. Maybe if the Doctor is satisfied with the results, he will sooner leave her alone to lick her wounded feelings privately.

But then, she didn't want him to leave her alone. She still felt so cold, and shaken up by a close-call, and she certainly wouldn't mind being comforted by the Doctor's larger-than-life presence, by his incessant chatter, by him holding her hands…

"Good. You're doing very good, Rose," the Doctor praised her with a smile, pinching her cheek affectionately, and Rose couldn't help but lower her face and blush furiously at his words. Oh, he was going to be the death of her, wasn't he?

"Slightly disoriented, and the reflexes are slow, but that's to be expected," he muttered under his breath, but Rose could hear him anyway. "No wonder, really, after you'd been there for two hours," he added, looking at her intensely. Then, his demeanour changed suddenly, and he gave her a bright, cheerful smile. "Not to worry, Rose Tyler, I'll have you up and running, feeling as good as new, in two shakes!"

And then, out of the blue, he hugged her tightly, pressing her to his body, and kissed the top of her head while stroking her back with his hands.

Huh.

Rose's resolve to stay calm and slightly aloof melted away immediately. She leaned into the Doctor's warm hug, basking in the comfort that the Doctor's arms were giving her.

They spent the next moments in complete silence, just the sound of Rose's occasional harsh breath intakes breaking the atmosphere.

Then, the Doctor gently broke away their hug and instructed:

"Lie down a moment here, Rose. Lemme do a full body scan. If you manage to stay awake, I promise you the most luxurious breakfast in bed you've ever received."

Before Rose could protest that she didn't want to sleep, he had her lying on the cot on her back. She sighed, resigned to her fate, and allowed him to put several patches onto her pulse points and take a quick, painless blood test (she couldn't fathom why in the world he'd need it then). He also passed the dermal regenerator over both of her wrists, mending the damage from the rough ropes. Truth be told, and she'd eat a plate of burnt toasts before admitting this, Rose did feel sleepy all of a sudden. Her eyelids felt as if they were filled with lead, and her thoughts were somewhat slow and murky.

And so, to prove the Doctor wrong, Rose tried her best to stay conscious while he puttered around, running scans and tests. He reminded Rose of a ball of endless energy, and his moving made her feel dizzy.

She closed her eyes for a second.

"Rose? Rose, come on, you lazy girl, wake up. I'm almost done, promise, all you need to do is show me your fingers and toes," the Doctor wheedled, arranging Rose's slow, indeed lazy, body, in a sitting position. "Go on, sweetheart, move your fingers for me."

The term of endearment almost made Rose's heart burst from her chest. A massive wave of warmth attacked her chest, and all of her insides glowed bright yellow from being called that.

She felt heavenly.

And so, Rose obliged.

The smile that appeared on the Doctor's face could have melted the ice caps of the Arctic.

"Good job. You're doing great. Now, your toes."

Again, Rose wiggled the fingers on her feet, and the Doctor cupped her cheeks in his palms, squeezing them affectionately.

"Brilliant, Rose Tyler. Top-notch. Now, off to bed with you. Let's get you some socks, though," he offered and assisted her with putting her geese-patterned fuzzy socks on.

Rose was again surprised at how and when the socks appeared in the med bay. It must have been the TARDIS, though, she shrugged to herself mentally.

"Right then. Up, up, up!" The Doctor demanded suddenly.

Rose found herself being carried bridal-style once more, and while she was sure that she could walk under her own steam, she didn't protest.

If the Doctor was offering free rides and extra hugs, she wouldn't turn him down.

Her earlier determination to stay cool and a bit distant chipped away under the Doctor's tender, diligent care and his sweet words of endearment.

Several short moments later - the Tardis must've moved Rose's room closer to the infirmary - the Doctor deposited Rose onto her own bed.

She found great comfort in the colour and texture of her own bed, her own knitted, strawberry-patterned blanket, and sank into the bedsheets gratefully, pulling the blanket and the covers closer to herself.

The Doctor hovered near, tucking the blankets.

"Will you be alright for a few minutes? I'll be back in a jiffy, I'll just pop into the galley and make you something warming and nourishing. You need calories to warm up properly," he explained and tucked a stray strand of her hair behind her ear.

Rose smiled and nodded eagerly, truly craving something warm and possibly sweet then. The Doctor muttered, "Yeah?", leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to her forehead before shying away abruptly and disappearing through the door of her bedroom.

Rose must've dosed, lulled by the knowledge that she was finally warm and safe, and that the Doctor had called her a sweetheart before. She was startled out of her slumber by the Doctor's sudden appearance by her side.

"Here, Rose. Drink this. This is…erm," he trailed off, scratching the back of his head, uncertain, "this is a nourishing mix, chocolate flavoured, warm, full of calories, just what the doctor ordered."

Rose smiled at his joke and took a sip through the straw. The drink tasted strangely at best: it was sweet and salty at the same time, barely resembling chocolate. The texture was off, feeling too thick, too powdery, and Rose scrunched her nose, unhappy.

"I don't like it."

The Doctor jumped to the drink's defense.

"Come on, Rose. Think of the best breakfast in bed. And I'll throw in a shopping trip, too. Remember the Golden Plaza on Troom in 2078? We'll go there if you finish this and get better, I promise."

Rose gave him a sour look, narrowing her eyes. His eyes were big, pleading, and he still exuded too much anxiety for her liking. She had enough energy to roll her eyes, but she went on and tried to finish the strange-tasting drink anyway.

"I want you to blow them up, Doctor," Rose said, her voice raspy from too much cold. She felt extra angry about the stupid, cruel aliens who had put her into the freezer because her extremities started to warm up that moment, causing unpleasant tingles and needles to run down her body.

Rose cringed as she rode another wave of pins and needles, but kept on sipping strange concoction in her hands.

"Nah, you don't mean that. Not you. Not my Rose Tyler. Not a single cruel bone in her body, I swear. Let's see how you feel about that once you're warm and healthy, yeah?" the Doctor cajoled as he raised one corner of the blanket up and pressed a hot water bottle onto her lower belly and her thighs. "There you go," he drawled and tucked the blanket around her again. "I'm sure you'll be more merciful once you feel better."

Rose gave him a dirty look but said nothing.

"So, how did you find me? Did the TARDIS tell you that I was in danger?" she asked, genuinely curious.

The Doctor smiled again.

"No. I have a 'Rose is in danger alarm' , right here," he explained, tapping his temple. "I felt that something was wrong three minutes after we'd got separated, the rest of time was spent by me trying to persuade the Cluxcconians to pardon you," he said with an apologetic expression on his face. "Stubborn buggers, they are. Not surprisingly, though, they are sharp-set on precious stones. Thirty thumbnail-sized diamonds, and you were free and cleared of all the charges immediately."

Rose choked on her drink.

"Thirty huge diamonds? Doctor, that's incredibly expensive! How much that must've cost…Where the hell did you even find them?"

The Doctor placed a soothing hand on her back.

"Rose," he implored. "There's nothing more important and more precious to me than you," he confessed. "I'll always do anything to get you back, and I will pay any price to make sure that you're safe."

Rose gulped. Her throat suddenly felt dry, her tongue felt too big for her mouth, and she found herself unable to say anything.

The Doctor, however, moved on long before Rose could come up with a reply. He jumped up, fretting over the covers again, then snatched the cup from Rose's hands to check how much she'd already drunk.

"Five golden stars, Rose Tyler! Amazing, as always," he applauded, and Rose blushed again, feeling a bit silly. He congratulated her as if she'd gone and won a Nobel Prize when in fact the only thing she did was drink the warming liquid.

Rose shook her head. That was the Doctor for you. Strange, mad, sometimes wildly inconsistent, but so invitingly…Doctor.

She reached out one of her hands to him, wanting to stop his mad hovering, and he accepted her hand in his immediately, as if he was pulled to her by a magnet.

"Thank you, Doctor," Rose said, her voice wavering a little. "Just…thank you."

The Doctor's lips stretched in a slow, fond smile, and he squeezed her hand in reply.

They didn't need any more words.

They understood.

˗ˋˏ ˎˊ˗

That night, Rose slept soundly, soothed by the TARDIS's hum, comforted by the warmth of her bed and the non-cooling hot water bottle provided by the Doctor.

The next morning, true to his word, the Doctor brought a five-star breakfast to her room, complete with a small flower bouquet and a tiny basket of fresh blueberry muffins from their favourite pastry shop in 20th century France.

She didn't admit that she'd seen him fussing next to her through the night. Rose didn't miss the butterfly-like touches to her cheeks, to her forehead; she didn't miss the tell-tale holding of her wrist to count the number of her heart beats. He soothed the last of the chills that persisted in her body, stroking her back and murmuring something in that melodic language of his. Her slumber was deep, however, and she was pulled down by exhaustion to truly be awake and react to the Doctor's diligent care.

It didn't matter that she didn't appreciate it or that she'd call the Doctor out on his fretting.

She'd never.

˗ˋˏ ˎˊ˗

Two days later, after she was given a clear bill of health and after the chills and the slight weakness was finally gone, the Doctor took her to the Golden Plaza. She bought a pretty, heart-patterned cardigan per the Doctor's recommendation and wore it to the next trip to the 23rd century Alps mere weeks later.

She'd never forget how warm and comforting that cardigan felt on her skin, and how delicious the blueberry muffins from the luxury breakfast in bed tasted the morning after she was rescued by the Doctor.

The end.