She had the dreams all the time now, the horrifying, gut wrenching, heart breaking dreams that continued to haunt her long after she had woken.

Dreams of him, of him falling, reaching for her, his blood spilling on the ground, the echo of his voice ringing in her ears as he called out to her. But she was always too far away, just a second too late. And in the dreams all she could do was hold him, to brush his hair back from his face and place gentle kisses to wherever she could reach whilst slowly, inevitably, he faded from her.

She couldn't ever remember being so scared in her dreams, not even when she was young and childish nightmares caused her to seek out comfort in her mother's bed. Because this could be something real, and very nearly was.

And she would awaken from such dreams, tears of heartache drying on her cheeks. Looking at the clock she would realise that she had slept barely a few hours and it would be a figurative age until Mickey would give her a lift to the hospital where she would spend the entire day at his bedside.

He would usually be asleep. Something that worried the nurses but held a slight comfort for Rose. He slept all the time, barely waking in the time she spent with him. It was odd to see him sleep so much, having spent so much time with him and coming to the conclusion that it must be part of his genetics that meant he didn't require as much rest as humans.

But this sleep was healthy. The staff at the hospital where perplexed, his ability to heal so quickly left them looking for answers, a curiosity that worried Rose and feared that maybe they would ask to look at him closely when he was better. But it was only a slight worry. Gone were the days of carting people off to study for scientific purposes, with not a thought for the test subject. But she could only hold off their questions for so long.

She had already planned with him to take him back to the TARDIS when he was able. They would tell the hospital that he was being transferred to a private clinic. At least back in his ship he would be whole again much sooner. And that's all that she wanted, her beautiful Doctor, alive and well and so full of life.

She went to see him, taking a couple of newspapers and a book so she could read to him, although she would often find that after a few minutes the small four bed ward had usually quieted and the other occupants of the room listened to her as well. It made her a little happier, giving these people something too, people, she noticed, that hadn't received visitors for many days.

Mickey came into the hospital with her this time, not having to work today, and saw she was seated comfortably before going off to the machine to buy them some coffee. And when he returned they talked a little for a while, their voices hushed in the sterile air, the curtain drawn slightly as though it would block out any of their conversation. He sat with her while she read to him, and when the nurses and doctors stood by his bed and took readings and monitored them on their charts. At midday he left the hospital to buy them lunch and they both sat in the cafeteria savouring the summer sun that filtered through the windows.

He was too good to her, she decided, especially after what he had done to her. Left him without so much as a backward glance and walked into a life where anything could have happened. No goodbye.

And yet he still sat with her, always there with a comforting hand or a well chosen word. He was no longer the jealous ex, all hard lines and vicious glares. He was the best friend now, her constant in a terrifying world, someone she could count on to be there when she came home.

And he was there when they went back to him, and smiled knowingly at her when she sat on his bedside, fingers toying aimlessly with his hair as she spoke softly to him, small things, inconsequential things and small pleas to wake up, for her.

And he was there when dark eyes fluttered open and slightly stronger voice declared "Tomorrow." Before sinking back into oblivion. He was there, and he helped her plan.

No, she really didn't deserve him.

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"are you sure he's alright to leave though?" her mum asked, settling a fresh mug of tea down at Mickey's elbow as he stared entranced at the computer screen.

Rose rubbed a hand across her tired face and accepted her mug when it was passed to her. Her mum sat down next to her, folding her feet up on the couch. "He wouldn't have said if he wasn't ready." She said quietly, her own concerns hidden.

Mickey sat at the computer, finalising some details on a plan she though quite possibly illegal. He had managed to procure (though god knows how) an unmarked ambulance, the type often used by private hospitals, and was now going over the finer details of the transfer papers, having spent the last few hours manically researching so that they would look authentic. It only had to fool them at the hospital, once they were away they would be hard pressed to find them if they ever needed to.

They had even managed to get Howard in on the act, her mums 'friend' only too happy to help them out by playing the part of a paramedic.

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The next morning Rose caught the bus to the hospital with her mum whilst Mickey and Howard stayed back, setting things up and waiting for their call. Rose handed the papers over to one of the nurses who raised her eyebrow slightly and told them she would be back soon after getting them authorized and signed for them.

When they reached the ward they were surprised to find the Doctor awake, a slightly malevolent look in his eye and he stared at the machines he was still connected to, absently rubbing the crook of his elbow where a narrow plastic tube had pierced his skin.

He greeted them warmly, even working up the effort to return her mums enthusiastic hug. He held her to him and she smiled at the way he pressed his face to the side of her neck, breathing her in as though to make sure she was definitely real and not some figment of a fevered dream. Apparently happy he let her go, and smiled at the nurse who came back with a copy of the papers, printed and signed, releasing him from their care. He had given her his heartfelt thanks for all they had done for him, and Rose could see, to her amusement, the thinly veiled look of itching curiosity of the nurse's face, knowing that she was burning to ask questions but that it was out of her hands now. And with an air of frustration she set about unleashing him from the machines.

Rose followed the nurse out to give her own thanks, leaving him to change into more suitable attire whilst her mum went down to the reception to make the phone call and wait for the boys.

When she returned she found him half standing, leaning heavily against the bed as he pulled his arm through a sleeve. She smiled at him, a calm, mothering smile as he struggled to do up the buttons. Barely concealing a laugh she went to him, pushing his hands away so he could lean further against the bed whilst she took up the task herself, trying hard to ignore the slowly decreasing expanse of skin, warm beneath her fingers. She looked up at him with a smile she hoped covered her odd sense of nervousness only to be met with a hot stare, his eyes dark and unveiled.

She felt herself pale under his gaze, heart thudding in her chest, blood sluggish in her veins. She forced herself to breath but could not look away, from him, from the undisguised maelstrom capturing her in his eyes. Her hands stopped, two buttons shy from the top and her fingers stilled, pressed lightly to exposed skin, the odd staccato beat of his hearts thrumming from his body into hers. She didn't know how she was not burning, his gaze enough to set anybody aflame and it had certainly stirred something within her, fanning the flames of something indescribable that curled hot and heavy in her belly, something which twitched and flared as she watched his gaze flicker down, settling on her lips for the briefest of seconds before returning once more to her eyes.

For an indescribable moment they stood like that, suspended in time, hung in each others dreams, and at the moment he considered, had leaned just a fraction of an inch, Rose's mobile had burst painfully into light, vibrating and ringing shrilly in her jacket pocket.

She jumped, pulling her hands away to scrabble at her coat and pull out the offending item, her gaze now fixed irritably on the bright screen. She listened for a few moments and said a few terse words before hanging up. She stood for a while, her thumb still on the 'end' button and gazing unseeing at the screen before she looked up, a resigned and almost apologetic look on her face. But he just smiled softly at her and allowed her to finish doing up he buttons, feeling slightly chagrined when she ordered him back into bed and wait until the orderlies came for him. It wouldn't do for him to be seen walking around when barely two weeks ago he'd been of life support. He just grinned at her.

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Getting him home was easy, the hard part was getting him out of the bloody ambulance and into the TARDIS. It was a strange sort of irony, that his ship could fit a thousand rooms in it, but the door couldn't open fully to allow a thin gurney through. He hadn't minded though, just took the opportunity to 'stretch his legs' a bit whilst leaning heavily on Howard and Mickey as Rose led them through the darkening tunnels to the 'sick bay' as she had dubbed it, much to the Doctors distress.

They helped him onto the bed and set to flipping switches and setting dials as the Doctor ordered, still plainly weak but with a more content look on his face, a small smile playing on the edge of his lips to be back with his ship.

"Rose." He called gently, beckoning her over from where she was showing Mickey how to check the levels on a small screen. She patted him reassuringly on the shoulder and left him with a perplexed look on his face as he tried to figure out what he was doing and whether his actions could potentially kill the Doctor.

Rose approached the bed and lifted one leg up to perch on the edge, hands pulling the soft blanket further up his chest.

"Rose." He said again, voice soft as he caught her hand with his, her skin so warm against him. His eyes flickered down to watch the way her fingers laced with his, tightening ever so slightly, a reassurance for her, that he was still here, still real. He held her grip firmly and looked up at her, at her tense face, eyes betraying her concern for him. "Rose,…i…" he faltered as he tried to find a way to explain to her. He frowned gently, looking back down at their touch combined. "Rose, whatever happens to me now…I don't want you to worry." He said quietly, aware of the others in the room, of Jackie slapping Howard's hand away from potentially life threatening piece of equipment. He could feel her tense, couls see out the corner of his eye the way her body set.

"Doctor?" her voice wavered.

"I'm just going to go to sleep Rose." He explained, daring to look at her. She shouldn't have to worry about him, shouldn't have had to live the last two weeks in fear of his life slipping from her. "I don't know how long for." He said, hoping that the small smile he had mustered up for her was calming the doubts he could see so plainly in her eyes. "But I need to….there's still so much damage."

"You hurt?" She breathed.

He opened his mouth to placate her, to tell her he was fine. But he'd lied to her enough. "Yes." He said softly, the admission seeming to bring the aches of his body to the forefront of his mind. He closed his eyes briefly, letting the sensation wash over him to be replaced by a gentler touch, of fingertips barely touching, tracing the curve of his cheek. Unreservedly he turned into it, breath caught in his throat at the heat of her skin, spreading it's warmth and soothing the ache in his mind. He allowed her to touch him, to feel the way she felt about him poured into such a simple gesture.

"What can I do." She whispered, her voice closer, breath ghosting over his face as he let his head fall back against the pillow allowing them to lock gazes unguardedly.

His Rose. The Gods must have been looking out for him the day he ran into her.

"Stay with me."

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"here you are." Jackie said, handing a bright pink mug to rose, "Though it'd probably be cold now, took me forever to find my way back." She said, taking a sip from her own drink.

Rose took her mug ans set it down carefully on the side of the bed, hlding it firmly between her hands so that she could soak up it's warmth

"Where's Mickey and Howard?" she asked.

Jackie shrugged and leaned against the foot of the bed. "Dunno, said they were going to the shops about an hour ago, havn't seen them since, though that's not surprising, not in this place." She flicked her gaze to the ceiling to render her point.

Rose smirked into her mug as she drank from it. "Seems to be taking it well." She said quietly, looking up at her mum's slightly puzzled face. "Howard."

"Oh, well, yeah I suppose, as much as anyone else could."

"You should have seen Mickey when this all started." Rose quipped, "Like a frightened puppy, he was actually clinging to me." She shook her head and smiled at the memory.