A/N: Hey guys! Sorry about the slight delay on this chapter! It's a little longer than usual though so hopefully that makes up for it a little bit? :P On another note, I'm approaching one thousand followers on Tumblr (which is still like impossible for me to even imagine). So I put a poll up on my blog for what I should do to celebrate, so maybe go vote on it? ;)

Also, a quick disclaimer. I'm not a doctor, nor am I a nurse. Basically, if I screwed up in the accuracy of the hospital setting, please don't come after me. However, if it's a really dumb and obvious mistake tell me and I'll fix it. Thank you!

Rose felt as though she had been waiting for hours.

The dingy white room that she had been sitting in was silent apart from the sound of Wilfred's snoring and Donna's steady breaths. Rose had considered countless times waking one of them up just to have some company.

There was a sort of anxiety bubbling inside of her, ready to burst at any given moment. Whenever she thought about John, about what had happened, it jumped up in her chest and she found herself choking on thin air, as if reality was giving her a firm slap in the face.

She should have told that nurse that she didn't want to be alone.

All she wanted was to see him, whether it was through glass or a glimpse through a doorway – just anything that she could hold onto. He could be dead right now and she wouldn't know. She'd already paced the room at least ten times already debating whether or not she should just find a way to sneak into the emergency room.

Rose wondered what John would do. She tried to see him in her situation. Knowing him, he'd probably pace, maybe mutter to himself and rake a hand through his hair. But would he listen to the nurses and the doctors or would he burst in there to see her?

He'd burst in there, part of her thought insistently. He wouldn't care about whatever the doctors said.

She knew, no matter what he would have done, that he would drown himself in guilt. She'd seen him do that plenty of times with other things. Rose straightened her posture slightly and tried to wash away her own guilt, but it was easier thought than done. After all, this was her fault in many ways, and she couldn't pretend that it wasn't.

Nurse Marie, as if she was answering Rose's prayers, appeared in the doorway and popped Rose's imaginary thought bubble.

"You can see him now, according to the doctor," Marie said, smiling at Rose.

Rose hardly registered her own shoes slapping across the ground as she ran out of the door and to the room that she'd seen him taken into. She tugged on the handle of the door but it wouldn't open and she let out a string of curses. Marie did it for her and Rose burst into the room, freezing at what she saw.

He was pale and tiny and fragile and everything that John wasn't. His hair, which normally stuck up like an eccentric scientist, drooped over his forehead. There was an IV hooked up to his arm and she swallowed hard at the sight.

Her eyes floated down to his abdomen and she saw bandages – lots and lots of them and some that wrapped around his entire torso as well. A thin white blanket was pulled up to his hips and his chest was bare apart from the bandages that covered about two thirds of it. His head had lolled to the side slightly so that it was facing the right side of the room.

"It looks worse than it is," Marie assured her quietly, sensing Rose's panic.

Ignoring her, she moved towards the nurse, whose nametag read Grace, by John's bedside. The nurse moved from her position and offered Rose the wet washcloth she'd been using on John's forehead. Rose took it and collapsed in the chair, still letting what she was seeing sink in.

She wasn't sure what she had expected. Not this. Nothing but this.

She couldn't explain it. It was the little things that were different – the fact that the pinkish blush in his cheeks was gone and that his hair was more clumped together than it typically was. His freckles seemed darker compared to his pale, ghostly skin and the giant hospital bed made him seem small – so, so small.

Rose hadn't expected him to look so dead.

Nurse Grace exited the room, the door shutting softly behind her.

There was the beeping of a heart monitor and the quiet, forced sound of John's breathing in front of her. Rose meticulously placed the washcloth on his forehead, afraid that he would melt under her touch. She brushed his hair out of his forehead and moved her chair closer to him. "John?" she asked quietly, unsure of what she hoped would happen.

He didn't move at all.

The doctor, who had been looking at a monitor, stood on the opposite side of the bed. "We've done everything that we can," he said to her. "There's a good chance that he'll make it through this, but it's more or less up to him in the end."

Rose nodded, her eyes still trained on John. "Thank you." She couldn't think about him not making it through this.

"This is for his pain," the doctor said, handing her a tiny white device attached to a pole with a bag on it. Another wire attached it to a needle in his forearm. "The plus sign ups the painkillers - "

"And the minus sign lowers it," Rose finished. "Got it,"

The doctor left the room, and Rose was left with just John and Marie.

Marie glanced at her unsurely. "Would you like me to stay with you, or would you like to be alone with him?"

Rose looked at her, and Marie knew the answer without her having to say a word.

"Okay, I'll be right outside. When the others wake up, I'll send them in. If you need anything, anything at all, just call me, all right?" Marie offered. "Oh, and try not to excite him too much when he wakes up."

Rose sniffed and nodded.

She heard the sound of Marie leaving the room and rested her head on John's shoulder, one hand in his hair. "I missed you," she muttered, her voice muffled by his shoulder. "Oh my god, I missed you. I'm so glad that you're okay. You're going to be okay."

He still didn't move, and she knew that if he were here he'd tease her for having such a one-sided conversation. "I wish you were here," she mumbled. "Well, I know you're here, but I wish you were here here. You know?" Rose sniffed again and let out a short laugh. "Blimey, I'm starting to sound like you, aren't I?"

She wondered how he'd reply to that.

Rose heard a quiet noise and was snapped out of her thoughts. She saw his lips moving slowly and took in a sharp breath, cupping his cheek with one hand and moving her thumb along the curve of his jaw. "John?"

He said something again and she leaned in closer, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear.

He said it again and she still couldn't understand the words. His eyebrows drew together and his head tilted away from her as his eyes scrunched up tight. His body shifted in the bed.

She considered calling the nurses, but Rose figured it was just a nightmare. The heart rate monitor had increased slightly but he didn't seem to be in any physical pain. Just to be on the safe side, she upped his painkillers slightly.

Rose pursed her lips to stop herself from crying again – after all, she'd done more than enough of that already - and she brought him closer to her, holding his hand firmly in her own. "John, you're okay. You're okay, everything is all right."

He repeated it again but his body relaxed slightly under her touch.

Rose shook her head. "Sleep, okay? Go to sleep - you need it."

He stopped muttering and his head tilted towards her as his features went slack. Rose gave him a soft smile as she stroked his hair. "Better," she said, pressing a lingering kiss to his forehead. "There, that's better."

Four Months Ago

Rose's eyeliner was uneven and her mascara was clumpy, but Jimmy didn't question it. The moment she left the bathroom he was standing there, looking down at his phone. "Now remember, at Yankovich's party it's less about having fun and more about getting a record deal for me."

She frowned. "A record deal? Are you playing tonight?"

He laughed. "No, but there are important people coming. And there's going to be a lot of booze, so if I can get them drunk enough I can get them to agree to anything I want."

"You're going to force them into a record deal?" Rose asked, raising an eyebrow.

Jimmy rolled his eyes. "No, we are. And it's not forcing, Rose – it'll be willing, trust me. You'll bat your pretty eyelashes; maybe raise your dress a little. I'll do the talking; they'll do the signing. Sound simple enough?"

She wanted to protest, but she just stared at him.

Rose wasn't used to being objectified like this. Whenever men whistled at her on the street or made stupid remarks, she wasn't the kind of girl to keep walking or blush and duck her head. She stood up for herself.

But around Jimmy, all of that seemed to fly out of the window. Being with him was like an out of body experience in a way – she didn't feel at all like herself, and she typically found herself going along with whatever it was he wanted.

Sometimes it was hard not to hate herself for it.

"Rose, this is important," he said, more gently this time. "I really need this deal. You know that, right?"

"Right," Rose acquiesced.

He took a long look at her. "You're nervous," he stated, even though that wasn't true in the slightest. Jimmy pulled her into her arms and she wrapped her arms around his back, holding her breath. "You look sexy," he promised her. "Don't know if I'll be able to keep my hands off of you all night," he mused, moving his hands from his back down to her arse.

Rose laughed and tried to squirm away, but he held her there firmly. He leaned in close and she could feel his breath against the shell of her ear.

He squeezed her and she pressed her lips against his. Jimmy's tongue delved into her mouth almost immediately and she matched him in earnest, getting up on her tippy toes to reach him. "Shouldn't we leave now?" she asked when they broke away.

He gave her a Cheshire grin. "You're no fun, Rosie. But you're also right. Let's get going." Jimmy glanced down at her feet. "Oh, and maybe go with heels instead of flats. Heels will get me any deal I want."

Current Time

The first thing John was aware of were his eyes.

They were open. Or weren't they? Everything was still black, but he was fairly sure they were open. That couldn't be... Wait, there was a light. Peeking out from under... A hand? A hand on his face? So his eyes were open.

He shifted groggily. A bed. Definitely lying in a bed. Unless it was a funeral casket and, oh god, what if they'd buried him alive? Wait, there wouldn't be a light if he was underground, surely. And hopefully there wouldn't be a hand on his face. Nor would there be a blanket. Okay, for sure not buried alive, then.

He tried to move his right arm but there was something attached to it. After a moment he deduced from the feeling that it had to be an IV. His left arm, though, was free, and he managed to move it enough to touch the hand on his face.

The moment he moved his arm, he felt the burning in his abdomen. John winced but completed the action anyways, brushing the hand off of his face. He tried to speak but his mouth felt about as dry as a desert and his jaw was aching. He pressed a finger against it experimentally and felt a bruise. Brilliant.

John turned his head, unable to hold back a groan at the energy and pain that each movement caused him, and saw a mop of blonde hair. He touched her hand again blearily and pushed his head back into the pillow.

She was alive. She was okay. More than okay, she looked to be in tip-top shape. Maybe there was a god after all.

"Rose?" he mumbled, trying to wake her up. "Rose?"

She stirred but didn't actually wake up. He let out a shaky laugh before shaking her hand with as much strength as she could muster. "Rose, wake up."

Her free hand moved to brush her hair back from her face. She blinked blearily at him before the realization set in. Her face lit up and she lurched forward to hug him. "John," she mumbled, face buried in his white shirt. A white shirt that he didn't own. Who had changed him into this? God, was he wearing trousers?

After wiggling his legs he determined he was wearing pants but not trousers.

"Hey," he grunted, trying to look at her but having a hard time keeping his eyes open. He was exhausted. Beyond exhausted, really – he felt like all the energy had been sucked from his body. He focused his mind on how he had gotten here. "I got shot."

Rose laughed and sniffled, nodding. "I noticed."

"But you're alright?" he asked quietly, trying to reach up a hand to touch her face.

Rose kissed his knuckles and shook her head. "Don't ask me if I'm okay. I'm not the one in that bed."

"This is an emergency room," he realized, glancing around. "Oh my god, I got shot."

She laughed and moved her chair closer to the bed. "Stay calm, yeah? The nurse mentioned to not excite you."

"I'm sorry," he blurted. "I... We were... Jimmy fired a gun!"

"Yes," she confirmed. "But he's going to go to jail, and you're going to be fine. So don't worry, okay?"

"Don't worry?" he scoffed, glancing around the room. "I can't believe this. I've never been shot before. I have been in an emergency before, mind you. Turns out you can't fly when you jump off a rooftop. But this is all starting to come back. You were there, and I was there, and Jimmy was there. And... Rose! You hit him on the head!"

She laughed again. Hearing him ramble again made her feel giddy and she couldn't stop smiling if she tried. "Yeah, I did."

"That... You..." He whistled. "I shouldn't have woken you up. You probably need sleep."

Rose shook her head. "No, I'm glad you woke me up." She leaned over and kissed his cheek. "Very, very glad, you hear?"

He beamed at her, his previous exhaustion quickly fading. "Well, where's the doctor? What, did you pull the bullet out of me, too?"

"You really shouldn't be making jokes," Rose warned in a teasing tone. "You just got shot."

"I'm not making jokes," he said, attention turning to the IV in his arm. "I'm just surprised, is all."

"There's a nurse outside. Her name's Marie – she's nice. The doctor told me that they did everything they could and left me with this thing."

He stared at the device in her hand and scrunched up his nose. "Intravenous therapy? You've got to be kidding me."

Rose nodded quietly. "It's to help with your - "

John took the remote out of her hand and weakly pushed the minus button several times until the tiny number on it was at zero. "Much better."

She shook her head and snatched it out of his hand, putting it back at three. "You need it, or I bet that wound will hurt like hell."

He shrugged, a manic smile on his face. "Let it! I can handle pain. You underestimate me, Rose Tyler." He looked at her and waggled his eyebrows. "I took a bullet for you. How does that one song go? The American one? Bruno, uh… Oh, it's a planet! Saturn? Mars! That's it, Bruno Mars!"

There was a funny tingling feeling all over his body, now. When he moved his torso it still ached tremendously in pain, but if he stayed still it wasn't so bad. Rose was looking impossibly gorgeous, even with her messy hair and smudged makeup.

"What?" Rose said, blinking at him.

"I'd catch a grenade for you. That song. What's the next line? Uh, I'd put my hand on a train for you? No, that's not it. I never understand what singers are saying, you know. And sometimes they just don't make any sense. What's that one song that I always complain about, the one about Hayley's Comet or something? That one makes no sense."

Rose pushed up the painkiller button twice, but he didn't seem to care. "Do you know what I think?"

He blinked at her. "What?"

"I think you're high off of the medicine," she laughed as he kept trying to hum the tune of the song and failing miserably.

"Me? High? Preposterous. I love that word. Do you know where it originated from?"

Rose sighed and pulled the sheet up so that it covered his chest. "You're a mess."

"Latin!" he laughed happily, ignoring her. "It originated from Latin! The one language I'm bad at led to some of my favorite words. Most of them, actually. Isn't that ironic?"

She smiled sweetly at him. "So ironic. Do you want to see Donna and Wilf?"

He stared at her, confused. "They're here?"

"Of course they are," she replied.

John put his head back down on the pillow and stared up at the ceiling. "Do you want to know a secret?"

Rose put her hand on his arm and raised an eyebrow. "What secret?"

"Well," he began, reaching up a hand, she assumed, to rub the back of his neck. He didn't lift his head so the hand awkwardly landed back down at his side. "It's not really a secret, but I haven't told it to you before. Actually, I haven't told it to anyone. Does that make it a secret?"

She laughed again. "Yeah, that makes it a secret. I think that's the definition of secret, actually."

"My nose itches," he complained after a moment, scrunching up his face. He rubbed his nose with his free hand and then stared at her again, blinking.

"Um, John?" she asked.

"Hmm?"

"You were going to tell me a secret?" She pursed her lips to stop herself from laughing so much.

"Right!" he said, delighted. "Well, I just wanted to say that it's nice."

"What's nice?" Rose questioned gently, smoothing down his hair that, as usual, did not want to stay put.

His voice lowered to a shy whisper so quiet she could just barely make it out. "To have a family again."

Rose didn't know what to say to that.

John looked confused. "Why do you look sad? It's a good thing. You and Wilfred and Donna - you're my family, and it's nice. I'm not lonely anymore, you know. With them, before, they were great, but you completed it, Rose. Now it's a real family. One that, you know, would spend Christmas together or watch telly or have a pancake eating contest."

"A pancake-eating contest?" Rose asked, raising an eyebrow.

He sighed dreamily. "Banana pancakes."

"Are you hungry?"

John hesitated for a moment before nodding as much as he could in the awkward position.

Roes squeezed his arm. "Of course you are. I'll get you some food and water. I don't think they have banana pancakes here, but maybe they'll just have plain bananas?"

Rose stood up to leave but heard him call after her quietly. "Rose? Could you stay?" She stopped where she was and glanced at him – he was all pleading eyes and messy hair and she knew she couldn't deny him anything he wanted.

"'Course I won't. Hang on." She swung open the door and Marie looked up from where she was sitting with paperwork in her lap. "John is awake," she said to the nurse with a soft smile. "Do you think you could get him some food and drink, please?"

Marie stood up immediately. "Of course."

"Thank you," Rose said, turning around before quickly swirling back on her heels. "Oh, and he likes bananas. Nothing with pears in it, though."

Marie nodded and set off towards the cafeteria.

John scrunched up his nose. "Hospital food. Can't imagine that's fun."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm hardly concerned about the quality of food they give you here, as long as you're healthy. How does your chest feel?"

He gave her a mischievous smile. "Don't know. You could test it out. Or just test out my whole body, while you're at it, really. That's the only surefire way to make sure that I'm healthy." John wagged his eyebrows at her.

Rose rolled her eyes. "Now is hardly the time. Not that I don't want to, mind you."

"Well," he said in a teasing voice. "I thought something was going to happen last night. Just didn't expect what did happen. We're going to have to make up for lost time eventually thanks to Jimmy Stone."

Rose moved her hand from his forearm to his bicep and smiled. "The moment you're out of here, I'm planning on making up for lost time." She placed a kiss to his hand. "Again." Then his arm. "And again." Then his neck. "And again."

He hummed happily. "Somehow I think that would be far better medicine than whatever they could give me here."

Rose began kissing her way up his neck, one hand on his shoulder and the other on the side of the bed. She smiled against his skin. "Remember how I told you that they said not to excite you?"

Sometimes he wondered if she was trying to kill him. Maybe she was like a spy and he was the mission and she'd figured out that the most effective way to take him out would be to drive him to the edge of sanity. It wasn't a bad plan, really. His mind was still tingling pleasantly from the painkillers but Rose seemed to be waking up every nerve ending in his body with her touch.

John arched his neck back to give her better access. "You're not doing the best job at that."

"I'm not, am I?" Rose replied, placing another kiss on his pulse point before pulling away. He pouted at her and she just giggled, leaning her head on his shoulder.

"In fact," he said, moving his hand to rest on her shoulder. He lowered it slowly, brushing his thumb along the top of her breasts. "You're probably doing the opposite."

A voice spoke from the doorway. "Um, I brought food?"

Rose spun around to face Marie and John's hand fell back to his side. Rose was sure she was blushing violently, but she nodded anyways and accepted the tray of food. "Thanks."

"A banana!" John said happily as Rose rested the plastic white tray on his lap. "Nurse, uh..."

"Marie," the nurse provided.

"Nurse Marie, thank you." He grinned at her before grasping the banana in his left hand. "I don't er, think I can peel this. That pesky needle in my arm makes it a little difficult."

Rose took it out of his hands. "I've got it."

"Do you two need any help?" Marie asked politely.

"No, thank you," John said. "I do have a question, though. How long until I'm out of here?"

Rose rolled her eyes and shot Marie an apologetic look. "Ignore him. He's just restless."

"Oi!" John protested.

Marie laughed. "I'm not sure. It's more of the doctor's job to tell you."

"Can I take this IV out?" he asked, glaring at the needle as if it had offended him.

Marie shook her head. "No, I don't think so."

He sighed. "I've decided that I hate the emergency room."

"We'll move you to a somewhat more permanent room in a few hours, probably," Marie promised, trying to appease him.

John made a face. "A more permanent room? So I'm going to be here a while?"

"A few days, if I had to guess. It was a severe wound, Mr. Smith."

He groaned and turned his head to bury it in the pillow. "A few days? That's it, I'm not going to make it."

Rose rubbed his arm. "Overdramatic, as usual."

"I just got shot!" he argued. "I'm allowed to be overdramatic."

Rose turned to Marie. "Sorry about him. We can take it from here, thank you."

Marie nodded and left, the blue tail of her coat swishing behind her. Rose turned to John and sighed. "Be nicer to the nurses."

"I was nice to her!" he argued.

"You can be a bit rude," she said gently, massaging his shoulder.

He huffed. "Rude and not ginger."

Rose frowned. "Where did that come from?"

"I think," he said slowly. "You were right about the medicine getting to my head. Are my painkillers still on?"

Rose nodded. "I set it at two. I'm not lowering it back down to zero - that'd hurt you too much."

He sighed, but didn't argue. "I don't like my mind being..." John made a hand gesture as he searched for a word.

"Fuzzy?" she suggested.

He licked his lips and nodded. "Not the word I was looking for, but it works. I don't like my frankly brilliant mind being fuzzy."

"Bet you could still do my homework while you're lying here and not get a single one wrong," she teased.

He hummed. "Probably. Oh, wait, what time is it?"

"Four in the morning," she said after glancing at the clock on the wall.

"It's a school day!" he exclaimed, wide-eyed. "You should get home. I'll be fine, Rose. I've got Marie, I've got this banana - uh, could you peel that, by the way - and look! There's even a television! You know, I think there's supposed to be a MasterChef marathon today. Or is that tomorrow? What day is it?"

"I'm not going to school," Rose said, pressing a finger to his lips.

He wanted to argue but the door flew open and Donna was standing there, gaping at them. "John?"

"Donna," he replied happily, turning his head to look at her.

Donna half-walked half-ran up to the bed and abruptly pulled him into her arms, squeezing him tight.

"Can't breathe," John complained quietly.

She released him and shut her eyes. "I let you out of my sight for less than a day, John. Less than a day. And you got yourself shot."

He smiled sheepishly. "Well, you know," John shrugged, "that happens."

"That doesn't just happen," Donna argued. She hugged him again. "Never do that again. All right?"

"No promises," he said cheekily.

She just rolled her eyes and examined his arm. "An IV? And, god, look at yourself. You're a right mess."

"Is Wilf here, too?" John asked, looking towards the doorway hopefully.

"Still sleeping," Donna explained regretfully. "I figured I'd let him."

John nodded.

"Do you want your banana now?" Rose asked.

He grinned at her and she handed him the peeled banana. He took a bite and hummed. "See, even a hospital can't mess up a simple banana. They are nature's miracles."

Donna looked at Rose. "Is the medicine getting to his head a little bit?"

Rose nodded. "It was worse a bit ago."

"I asked her to turn my painkillers off," John pointed out through his mouthful of banana. "She said no."

Donna grabbed Rose's hand from across the bed. "He's lucky to have you." John didn't say anything, so Donna whacked him playfully on the arm. "Aren't you, Spaceman?"

John looked at Donna, then at Rose, swallowing. "Yeah, I am. Thank you."

"When are you getting out of here?" Donna asked.

"Not soon enough," he grumbled, angrily taking another bite of the banana.

Rose ran her hand up and down his arm. "The nurse guessed a few days, but we haven't talked to the doctor yet. However long they say, though, you're going to stay. No arguments."

He pouted at her and she leaned over to kiss him chastely on the lips.

"He can stay at our flat after he gets out of the hospital," Donna offered.

"I don't mind keeping him at my flat," Rose replied, looking at him. Her mother probably wouldn't be thrilled with that, but after all, Jackie had wanted to meet him. Perhaps these wouldn't be the best circumstances for them to meet under, but as selfish as it was, she didn't want to let him out of her sight.

John shrugged. "I'd like to stay in London."

Donna nodded. "Alright, you can stay with Rose, then. I know she'll take good care of you. She can handle your stubbornness, too, which is good."

"Oi!"

"If he tries to run a marathon, just hold him back," Donna told Rose.

"I'm right here, you know," John complained.

Rose smiled down at him. "We both know."

"And I resent that statement," he pouted.

He leaned up to grab the cup of water on the tray but grunted at the effort and lowered himself back onto the pillow immediately, eyes shut tightly in pain. "Are you alright?" Donna asked, picking up the cup and bringing it to his lips.

"I can up his painkillers," Rose offered.

John shook his head. "Nope. I'm fine. Molto bene. Tip-top. Ooo, tip-top. I should say that more often, don't you think?"

"It's good alliteration," Rose said, smiling.

He grinned. "That it is. You know what else is fun to say? Your name. Rose Tyler. Roseee Tyler. Tyler. Tyler is a weird word when you say it a bunch of times in a row, isn't it? Tyler Tyler Tyler Tyler. See? Sounds weird on the tongue."

"This is going to be a long couple of days," Donna said under her breath.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed this chapter! :D As usual be sure to leave me a review and tell me what you thought!