Epilogue

Rose insisted that she felt strong enough to walk back to the TARDIS. She said she'd been cooped up far too long and wanted to breathe in the fresh, open air and see the sky above her. So the Doctor indulged her, strolling at an easy pace and keeping his arm loosely about her waist to provide just a hint of support.

They chatted casually as they walked, but her voice grew softer and her words fewer as they neared the ship. He knew she was tiring quickly, and his arm tightened around her. She leaned against him gratefully, rewarded by his encouraging smile.

"Just up here," he said cheerfully as the ship came into view.

Within a few minutes they were standing beside the blue police box as he slid his key into the lock. He pushed open the door and ushered Rose inside. She followed him up the ramp; he thought that being back in the TARDIS had buoyed her energy.

"So, we'll just make a quick trip to France and find Madame Luranne," he told her,"then we can go wherever you like."

"You're still hoping she'll make some of that duck a l'orange, aren't you?" Rose teased.

He grinned at the console, his fingers flying over the controls. "Well, I wouldn't say no if she asked. That would be rude!"

He heard her soft chuckle, then he keyed in the appropriate sequence, and the familiar groan of time and space rent asunder filled his ears. As the ship shuddered to a stop, he turned back to Rose, the grin still upon his face. It faded immediately when he saw her slumped over the railing, barely keeping herself on her feet.

He took two large steps to reach her side, quickly easing her upward so that he could see her face. She was pallid and clammy.

"Whew," she exhaled. "Think I might need a quick kip. Can you get my duck to go?"

"I'll do better than that, Rose." He shifted to support her then led her down the corridor.

He probably should have taken her to the infirmary first thing. The trip to France could wait until she was well. For that matter, it could wait a thousand years; he could arrive whenever he chose. His immediate priority should have been Rose…

"Hey," she was saying, watching his brows draw together, "what's the matter?"

He looked down at her. Despite her obvious weakness and discomfort, she was concerned about him. "Nothing, Rose. Everything's going to be fine."

But she was not convinced. She persisted, "Does your head hurt? Must feel sorta like a burn, yeah?" They'd reached the infirmary, and her gaze took in their surroundings. "I'm sure you've got something in here that'll take care of it."

"I'm all right," he replied, settling her upon the examination couch in the center of the room. "And you will be too. Just give me a couple of minutes."

He gathered the supplies he needed then returned to her. She was sitting up, her arms wrapped around her knees. He had the distinct feeling that she was consciously refusing to give in to the fatigue and dizziness. He noticed that she kept her wrists well away from her legs, avoiding painful contact with the injuries.

He raised the upper half of the couch so that she could lean back but still remain partially upright. She straightened her legs and sank back, finally giving in to the wishes of her weakened body.

"This'll replace the blood you lost and replenish your energy," he told her as he hung a bag from a hook that had descended from the ceiling. The bag was half full; the solution he'd prepared was sufficiently rich to require only a small amount. He reached over to the counter for an IV port.

"More needles?" she asked with just a hint of wariness.

"Sorry, yes."

Quickly and efficiently, he inserted the port then attached the line. She was a model patient, really, and didn't even flinch. She even offered him a small, appreciative smile once the solution began flowing.

"Now let me sort this," he said, brushing his fingers over the bandage on her left wrist.

He unwrapped the gauze and studied the wound for a moment. He'd done a good job with the sutures, but the dermal regenerator would heal the wound thoroughly and quickly. Carefully he removed the stitches. Rose winced twice as the heavy thread moved through her tender, raw skin.

"It'll be over in a jiffy," he reassured her, glancing up at her ashen face. He could give her something for the pain, but in the time that took he could repair the damage completely. He opted for the latter course.

He switched on the dermal regenerator and adjusted the beam to penetrate the dermis and repair the damage to the artery. The cauterization had been a quick and dirty fix; this would repair all the damaged cells completely. Rose flinched again. He knew she felt some uncomfortable tingling.

"Almost there," he said encouragingly. He changed the setting again and closed the gash on her wrist. "There we are. How's that feel?"

"Better." She lifted her wrist to study the smooth skin for a few seconds then added, "Fine."

He nodded then repeated the process on her right wrist. She found the procedure less uncomfortable, since, unlike that on the other wrist, this injury hadn't been exacerbated.

Still, he could see that she was glad when he switched off the regenerator with a satisfied nod.

"Good as new," he said.

"Thanks."

He checked the IV bag and line then rested his fingers against her wrist. Her pulse was steady, the strength approaching normalcy. She was warmer, too. Satisfied that Rose was nearly recovered, he pulled up a chair and sat down at her side. She'd watched his actions quietly through half-closed eyes, and he'd thought she might fall asleep. However, her gaze sharpened as he ran a hand through his hair.

"Why don't you let me use the dermal regenerator on that?" she asked, gesturing toward his scalp.

"It's not bothering me," he replied.

"You sure?"

"Yes."

"Well, somethin' is." Now she was staring at him pointedly.

"No, I'm all right."

She didn't believe that for one second. "Is it the Saentera? You know you didn't have a choice—"

"I know," he replied quickly.

"You saved a lot of people," she reminded him. She reached for his hand.

Her touch was warm and alive, so different from the cold, waxen flesh he'd felt only hours ago. "But I nearly lost you," he uttered.

She blinked at him. "No you didn't. I'm gonna be fine."

"But if I hadn't found you when I did—after she attacked you—if I'd waited even ten minutes more—"

"But you didn't," she interjected. "You got me in time."

He was shaking his head. "I shouldn't have let you stay there, should never have permitted it, even for an hour, especially after I saw you'd been drugged."

She frowned. "Doctor, that wasn't up to you; it was up to me. You don't get to decide what I do and don't do."

"But I need to keep you safe—"

She shook her head now, too. "And if you had, if you'd locked me away in here, do you honestly think you would've figured out what was goin' on and would've been able to help those patients?"

He hesitated for just an instant. "Yes. Eventually."

"Maybe. But they would've suffered more, and so would that Saentera." She eyed him critically before she spoke again, her tone gentler. "After all this time, don't you get it? We're in this together, the good and the bad."

There were hundreds of things he might have said to her: words of protestation, denial, warning, supplication… But the look in her eyes silenced every one of them. Her resolution, sincerity, and strength were astonishing and irrevocable.

He wrapped his fingers more securely around her hand and simply said, "Yes, Rose, we are."

Fin