Disclaimer: "Doctor Who" is the BBC's property. I'm just borrowing, honest.
Author's Note: This takes place immediately after "Tooth and Claw."
Special thanks to Sonic Jules for support, encouragement, beta services, and the title!
They were still laughing over thoughts of the royal family and their penchant for lupine activities as the Doctor dematerialised the TARDIS, leaving the Scottish plain vast and barren once again.
As the last giggles left her, Rose sank down on the seat next to the console. The waning, temporary euphoria gave way to images of the ghastly, terrifying creature. She had been sincerely frightened by it, yet somehow she'd felt an odd fascination, too. She was glad that the being had been released from its corporeal prison; she's almost been able to experience its joy during those final moments. But then her thoughts turned to Sir Robert. She tried not to remember all the blood…
"Rose? You all right?" The Doctor was standing over her, a worried look on his face.
"Hmm?" She pulled herself back to the present. "'M fine."
"You sure? You look a little pale."
She shook her head. "Jus' tryin' to get the picture of Sir Robert outta my head."
He nodded sympathetically. "I understand."
He smiled down at her and rested a hand against her cheek. She reached up to cover his hand with hers. It was amazing how strong his touch made her feel. He believed in her, trusted her…
And now he was bending down to peer at her side. She looked down to see what had captured his interest.
"Somethin' wrong?" she asked.
He pointed at her flank, near the bottom of her ribcage. "How'd you get that?"
Rose pulled aside the top of her coveralls to see a narrow tear in her shirt. A little dried blood darkened the fabric. She wondered that she hadn't noticed it before, but of course she'd been preoccupied with other things.
"I don't remember," she finally replied.
He looked up at her again, and when their eyes met neither needed to say the words they were thinking. Was it possible that the beast had caught her with a claw? Rose scrolled through her recent memories, replaying each encounter with the werewolf. In the hallway, she'd been awfully close to it, but she didn't think that it had touched her. Still, everything had happened so fast…
"Rose?" the Doctor asked again. He could see that she was trying to recall precisely what had occurred. "Any ideas?"
She shook her head. "I really don't remember. But I don't think it was… y'know."
"Of course not. There were glass and splinters flying all over the place. But why don't you let me have a look at it—get it sorted, just in case."
The smile he gave her was intended as a reassurance, but he thought that it might have been a bit closer to a grimace.
"Yeah, okay," she replied somewhat hesitantly.
He took her hand and pulled her up. She really was exhausted; her legs felt a little wobbly. But then she had been up all night in a very stressful situation, so she deserved to be tired; it was only natural, wasn't it?
The Doctor led Rose down the hallway to his small but well-equipped infirmary. He nodded to the examination couch and said, "Hop up there."
Rose complied, but she felt a bit uncomfortable. Her legs dangled from the couch, taking her back to her childhood and evoking rather unpleasant memories of injections and the vague fear that always accompanied anything medical.
The Doctor removed his glasses from his jacket and slipped them on. He touched her shirt, grasping the fabric lightly, then asked, "May I?"
"Yeah."
He lifted the shirt. The dried blood caused it to stick a bit around the wound, and she winced as he pulled it higher. He leaned in to view the little injury.
"Doesn't look too bad," he said. "It's just a scratch."
"A scratch?" Rose repeated, her voice rising in alarm.
He glanced up at her face. "Like I said before, probably from a glass or wood shard."
She nodded, trying to remain calm. He turned away for a minute, opened a couple of drawers and rummaged about. When he returned to her side, he held a gauze pad saturated in a mild antiseptic solution. He wiped the blood away from the wound carefully, gaze intent upon it as he worked.
"Can you tell what caused it now?" Rose asked after a few moments.
"Mmm, no," he replied in a rather vague tone.
"But you still think it was probably glass or wood, right?" She needed reassurance, needed to hear the words.
He straightened and glanced at her face before dropping the gauze into a small garbage bin. "It's hard to tell, really. Just looking at it, I can't say what caused it."
Rose exhaled slowly. "Is there any other way to find out?"
The Doctor nodded. "I could swab it and do a DNA analysis. If there's any organic material in it other than your own, it'll show up, and I can identify it easily."
"Then that's what you should do."
"Yes?" He squeezed her hand briefly. "All right."
He turned back to the counter and reached into a drawer then a cabinet. Rose couldn't quite see what he was taking out. When he turned around, he said with almost forced pleasantness, "Why don't you lie back."
She complied without question, but when she glanced down at his hands she saw that he held a small scalpel. Her eyes widened.
"What's that for?" she asked.
He stepped back to the couch and rested a hand on her shoulder. "The wound's closed, so I need to reopen it to obtain a sample of anything remaining."
That made sense, of course. "Oh, okay."
The Doctor's hand remained on her shoulder. "Thing is, Rose, I can't give you a topical anaesthetic because it could taint the sample—"
"So it's gonna hurt?" That didn't seem to require an answer, but she added, "How much?"
He smiled rather sadly. "Not much. Did I ever mention that I'm a very good Doctor?"
"All the time, but I never thought you meant this kind of doctor."
"Hmm."
Rose's eyes wandered to the ceiling. "Let's get this over with."
He gave her shoulder a soft rub. "Yes."
She kept her gaze on the ceiling as he lifted her shirt a little more. He had also wheeled over a small metal trolley, and she could see in her peripheral vision that there were a few items set out on a tray, but Rose decided it was best not to look. She trusted the Doctor; she would let him do whatever was necessary.
She felt his fingers press gently on the skin just above and beneath the small injury, then there was a light pressure and a cool sensation all along the length of the wound. It didn't really hurt so much as feel a bit strange… She ventured a glance down and saw blood. Her stomach seemed to roll, images of Sir Robert's mutilated body still fresh in her mind.
She wanted to look away, but somehow she couldn't. The Doctor was intent on his task and didn't look up at her. He reached for a swab on the tray then ran it over the incision. This action brought a definite twinge to the wound. Rose tried not to flinch, but her hand clenched at her side.
After depositing the swab in a small glass tube, he cleaned the wound again with the antiseptic, which fortunately did not sting much, then applied a thin line of something resembling Super Glue. He covered the area with a gauze pad, which he carefully taped in place.
"All done," he informed her, and Rose couldn't help but think that the comment was very typical of a doctor. She decided that she would slug him if he said anything along the lines of "now that wasn't so bad, was it?"
He was smiling down at her, sliding his hand beneath her shoulder to help her to sit. "I can give you something for the pain now if you need it."
"'S okay. It's not that bad."
"You sure?"
She nodded. "How long will the analysis take?"
"A couple of hours," he said. "I need to get a blood sample, too, to separate out the DNA."
Rose supposed that she could endure that; it couldn't be any worse than obtaining the swab from the wound. She held out her arm expectantly.
The Doctor reached back to the countertop as he took her hand. He turned it over then pressed a little instrument about the size of an i-Pod over her wrist. She didn't feel anything but the slight coolness of the metal.
"Okay," he said after a couple of seconds, "that's done."
"That's it?" she asked. "That's how you get a blood sample?"
He appeared a bit perplexed. "Of course. Oh, you thought I was going to use a needle?" He shook his head. "That's so twenty-first century!"
Rose pulled down her shirt. "So is there anything else you need from me?"
He had already moved to a small bank of instruments on another counter. "No." He gave her a quick glance. "Why don't you get some rest? It was a long night."
Rose slid down from the couch. "Yeah, s'pose it was after all."