It took Rose Tyler a very long time to wake up.

Not that waking up was usually a quick thing for her. She wasn't a morning person by nature and loved an extended doze as the soft hum of the TARDIS sang to her of home and safety. Some days she'd lounge so long that the Doctor had to resort to measures such as stealing her blankets, pumping punk rock music into her room, or one time "accidentally" hitting a bit of vortex turbulence that threw her out of bed. Those days, the only thing that kept him safe and in one piece in the face of her sleepy wrath was the steaming cup of tea he always had waiting for her. The git.

But this didn't have any of the lazy comfort she usually felt in that place between awake and sleep. This felt more like a trap or being tied down or submerged just below the surface of dark, cold water. Like that time when she was eight and got caught up in the breaking waves while on a beach holiday with Mum and Gran. The light and safety and air had all been so close. All she'd had to do was break through the water. But the waves had spun her until she didn't know which way was up, and her brain had been full of panic and an encroaching dark haze. An older girl had snatched her out of the water and it all had been fine after a few minutes of tears and a cuddle from her mum. But she'd always remember that panicked, helpless feeling of being caught under churning water.

Wherever she was now, it felt like that. She sensed the things she wanted were close. She could feel that comfort and safety and familiarity existed just beyond the dark vail, but she couldn't connect. Her brain was fuzzy, and when she tried to push through the haze, she was wracked with pain so intense that it sent her back under, back toward the deep inky darkness.

It was the glimpses of the world beyond that gave her hope she'd find her way through. She's hear a voice that made her chest feel tight with love and want, or a scent that reminded her of her childhood, or the texture of cool sheets against her feverish skin that reminded her that she had skin, had a body to get back to. She had a life to get back to. And sometimes, she could almost see the shape of that life and the things that made it so brilliant.

So when the pain spasmed through her and it would be so much easier to retreat back to the depths of that darkness forever, she always chose to fight instead. First she fought just to stay, to not be whisked further away into the dark pit she knew she'd never come back from. But then, in the good moments, she tried to fight her way back home. She fought and strained and tried…

Until one day, finally, she broke through.

Rose blinked her eyes open only to shut them again as the light made the throbbing pain in her head nearly send her back under. God, she felt awful! Beyond awful, really. Had she ever in her life felt such bone tired weariness? She didn't think so. And just about every part of her hurt. She'd said so during many a hangover, but maybe this time she really had gotten run over by a lorry.

Still, she knew she had to suck it up and open her eyes to take stock of her situation. Since traveling with the Doctor, she'd woken up in all manner of strange places and states. And in some cases, she'd had to jump right into running for her life. Rose really hoped that wasn't the case now. She didn't want to be doing any kind of running for a very long time. As more of the grogginess lifted, Rose was relieved to hear the TARDIS singing softly to her. She was home, then. At least she was safe, for the moment anyway. Maybe she could convince the Doctor to spend a few days in the Vortex while she recovered from…whatever this was. There had to be some alien soap drama they could laugh and throw popcorn at. But first, she had to open her eyes and work on getting her bearings. After a few hesitant blinks, she managed to keep her eyes open despite the ache in her head.

Oh. She was in the infirmary. Well that would explain why she felt so poorly. Not that she could remember why she was here. When she tried to think back to find the last thing she could remember, her brain skidded and skipped around until a wave of dizziness overcame her. Ok, so maybe she didn't need to remember just yet. Not until she got something for the dizziness. And maybe the pain too. That was just as distracting. She was sure the Doctor would have something stashed in here that would help.

The clinking of silverware on a plate drew her attention to a lanky figure messing around with something on the counter.

The Doctor. She smiled and for a moment she was filled with warmth that made the pain and vertigo seem more bearable.

He had his back to her, so naturally she reverted to her usual habit when faced with this view…checking out his bum. She grinned and noted with curiosity that he was wearing blue pinstripes today. She wondered if whatever put her in the infirmary had damaged his usual outfit. She'd hardly ever seen him in anything other than his usual brown, but she liked this new blue suit. It was, well, tighter for one thing. She held back a giggle, not wanting to alert him to her ogling. She really was enjoying the view.

As she watched, the Doctor stopped whatever he was fiddling with, the lines of his body stiffening. Slowly, he turned toward her and she could have laughed at the sight he made. Gobsmacked couldn't even begin to cover the expression on his face and he was standing there frozen with a spoon full of green goop in his right hand.

"Rose?" he asked, and she didn't miss the way his voice hesitated over the single syllable. It made worry bubble up in her already unsettled stomach. She pushed it aside and decided the Doctor was just being daft for some reason. Asking her name - who else would be on board the TARDIS with him? Well she could play along, she supposed…

"Doctor," she responded with a grin and raised eyebrow. Her voice came out curiously raspy, but obviously the Doctor heard it because his eyes went even wider. The utensil fell from his hand and he looked like he was on the verge of collapsing.

"You ok?" she asked. Well, slurred was more accurate. But she figured he'd get the general idea of her inquiry.

The Doctor made a noise that sounded half way between a cough and a laugh.

"Oh yes," he said, grin spreading over his face as he covered the ground between them so quickly her eyes couldn't track the movement.

The Doctor stopped at the side of her bed, hesitated a moment and then sat down in a chair next to her. As if she were made of the most delicate glass, he took her hand and brought it to his lips before lacing their fingers together.

"I…are you…Rose, I…" the Doctor sputtered. At this close proximity, she saw that it wasn't just his voice that was shaking. His whole body quivered save for where he'd anchored his hand to hers. And he didn't look so good. She took in details like the wrinkles in his suit and the circles under his eyes with worry.

She didn't like the picture that was forming in the handful of moments she'd been awake. She couldn't remember anything that would explain the state she was in and the Doctor looked like he'd been to hell and back since she'd last seen him.

"Hey," she said, "'S ok." She smiled up at him. Whatever it was, they would figure it out. They always did. Her grin widened at the warmth of that sleepy thought.

But when she tried to squeeze his hand, she found the simple action alarmingly difficult. She tried again, struggled, and the warmth she felt slipped away with her smile. She stared down at their entwined hands, noting the odd way her wrist bent in towards her forearm. She tried to lift her other hand to put on top of his, but instead of the smooth motion she expected, her arm jerked violently, shuttered a bit and then remained stuck in a sort of chicken winged position.

"Uh…what the…?" she said, eyes snapping back to the Doctor's, "Doctor, wha….what is….I can't…what!?" Her brain was skipping around again and she found it hard to get the words out. Giving up on speech for now, she instead looked at the Doctor with desperate questioning eyes. Her face prickled with a flush of panic and something behind her started beeping.

"Rose," the Doctor said shifting to sit on the bed facing her. He cradled her head in his hands, "Stay with me, Rose. It's ok. You're going to be ok."

Her eyes latched onto his as he urged her to take deeper breaths. He ran his thumbs soothingly over her temples and she let her eyes flutter closed at the comfort the contact offered.

"That's it, just breathe," the Doctor encouraged, "Just breathe."

Slowly, Rose fought back control from the panic. She opened her eyes and focused on the Doctor's steady gaze.

"Hello," he whispered once their breathing synced.

"ello," she managed to grin back at him. Then she felt her face crumple as she burst into tears.

"Oh Rose," the Doctor's voice shook as he spoke, "It's ok. It'll be ok. I've got you. I've got you."

And he did have her. He climbed up on to the bed and drew her to his chest, wrapping his arms around her. She cried like she hadn't since she was a small child - tears of bewilderment and nameless fears and the memory of absolute loneliness. She had this ache in her chest as if she hadn't seen the Doctor in a very, very long time.

She wanted to ask him what had happened. She wanted just to talk to him about any silly thing, to stay here with him in his arms. But she was exhausted and as hard as she tried, she couldn't prevent her eyes from first drooping, then closing.

Distantly she heard the Doctor murmuring to her, "It's ok Rose. Get some rest. I'll be here when you wake up. You've done brilliantly. Absolutely brilliantly. It'll be ok. I've got you."

Helplessly, she slept.