A/N: I started this in math class back in...oh, November, I think. I found the torn out pages in my purse the other day and decided to finish. What do you think?
Disclaimer: Not mine. If it were, you'd know. Trust me.
Traveling in the TARDIS, it was very easy to get hurt, given the amount of danger, and very hard to remain so, given the Doctor's equipment in the med bay. Conversely, it was very hard to get sick, given the boosts to the immune system the TARDIS put in the food, and very easy to remain so, given the viciousness of the illnesses that managed to get past the ship.
The first time Rose Tyler got sick while traveling, it was just a really bad hangover, and barely worth mentioning. The second time, though, it was big, and not only because they were away from the TARDIS at the time.
The Flaranian flu virus wasn't that deadly to the residents of Flarane, or to the Doctor. To humans, however, it was very dangerous.
The crown prince of this particular Flaranian city neglected to tell that Doctor, as was his duty, that the flu was going around the palace. It was in its last legs, and so the prince figured that it didn't really matter. Unfortunately, to Rose, it did matter.
Finding her flushed and dizzy on a bench two days into their visit, the Doctor was alarmed by how hot her skin was against his. He immediately took her to her room and summoned one of the maids. "Miss Tyler is sick," he told the woman. "I don't want anyone coming in here unless absolutely necessary."
"Has she contracted the flu virus, sir?" the maid asked.
"Flu?" the Doctor demanded.
"Yes, sir. It's been going around the palace. Didn't the prince tell you?"
"No, he didn't," the Doctor growled.
The maid seemed not to notice the danger she was putting her prince in. "Well, the flu has never been very bad. It's very easy to overcome."
"Not for Rose," the Doctor said. "Don't let anyone, and I mean anyone, in here until I get back."
The run to the TARDIS didn't take as long as he had expected, and probably because he did just that: run. He came back with sufficient supplies to help Rose, as he wouldn't be able to move her until she was better, and opened the door to see the prince sitting beside Rose's bed, holding her hand.
"What the hell are you doing?" he demanded.
The prince looked up. "I was worried about her," he said.
"This is your fault," the Doctor growled. "If you had told me, she never would have gotten sick."
"How was I supposed to know?"
"You weren't, but it's your duty to tell visitors of any illness in the palace!" the Doctor roared.
The boy flinched. He was still grasping Rose's hand, and the sight of it made the Doctor even madder. That wasn't the prince's hand to hold; it was the Doctor's.
"I can send in a doctor," the boy offered weakly.
"Thanks, but no," the Doctor said coldly. "I take care of her."
The prince dropped Rose's hand and, with the air of a defeated man, left the room. The Doctor took up the boy's chair and Rose's hand. Her eyes opened. "Is he gone?" she whispered. The Doctor nodded. Rose sighed with relief. "I thought he was never going to leave."
"You should have told me you weren't feeling well," the Doctor said.
"I was fine until a couple minutes before you found me," Rose assured him. "I suddenly felt dizzy and when I sat down, I couldn't get back up."
"I'm sorry," the Doctor whispered. "So sorry." His free hand reached out and stroked her cheek.
As he made to pull back, she caught his hand and held it there. "You're cool," she sighed.
The Doctor swallowed hard. "I've got to get some medicine into you," he said. He stood up and went over to the supplies he had brought back.
He came back with a small glass full of a bright blue liquid. Sitting on the bed, he lifted Rose up and supported her into a sitting position.
"What's it taste like?" she asked, her voice quiet and a little hoarse.
"Standard nasty-medicine taste," the Doctor replied cheerfully.
"Of course," Rose muttered. "You wouldn't even think to make it taste good."
"Medicine doesn't work well if it tastes good," he assured her. He held the glass to her lips and tipped as she drank all of it.
"Mmm," she said when she was finished. "What was that? Banana?"
He nodded. "And a bit of strawberry."
She smiled softly, then closed her eyes and leaned her head against his much cooler cheek. "So hot," she murmured.
The Doctor couldn't help agreeing with her silently. His pink and yellow girl was definitely hot, but she went beyond that, as well. Her face flushed from the heat of her fever, her lovely brown eyes hidden by creamy lids and long brown lashes, she was beautiful as she leaned against him. His arm was still wrapped around her waist from holding her up, and he squeezed her gently.
"You should rest," he said softly. "You'll heal faster if you sleep more." Besides, she looked tired.
"M'kay," she replied sleepily, then yawned. The Doctor laid her down gently, and then tucked her back under the covers. He got up to put the glass back with the rest of the supplies he'd brought, but Rose's hand caught his. "Don't leave me," she murmured. "I don't want that prince to come back."
The Doctor's hearts clenched at the faith she had in his presence to keep her from what she did not want. "I'll be right here, Rose," he promised. "I'm just putting the glass away."
Her hand dropped from his, and he placed the glass down with the other things. When he turned back, her eyes were on him, watching him, making sure he'd come back.
He sat back down on the chair next to Rose's bed. His beautiful Earth girl took his hand and held it as she slipped into sleep.
It took three days for Rose's fever to break. Three days in which she slept a lot. Three days in which it was hard to hold a rational conversation with her. Three days in which the Doctor left her side as little as possible. Three days in which, by her request, he spent every night lying beside her in her bed. Three days in which the prince continually tried to reenter the room. Three days in which Rose did not want anyone but the Doctor near her. Three days in which the Doctor catered to her every wish. Three days in which the Doctor spent every second fighting the urge to kiss his girl.
When her fever finally did break, Rose demanded a shower immediately. Reassured that she was returning to her old self, and no longer slightly delirious, the Doctor conceded.
Unfortunately, though her fever was gone, Rose found that she was still very dizzy. She swayed and sat down hard on the bed, muttering a few curse words.
"Still dizzy?" the Doctor asked.
Rose nodded. "Yeah. And it sucks, because I know I smell."
"I could help you," the Doctor offered, then blushed as he realized how that could be taken. "I mean, to the bathroom, and then you could take a bath. Or something."
Rose, who was also slightly pink, replied, "Thank you. That'd be helpful."
He placed his arm around her waist and lifted her carefully. "Come on," he murmured, and led her to the bathroom. He sat her down on the toilet, smiled hesitantly, and left.
When she'd finished her shower, Rose realized two things; that she had no clothes to change into, and that she had no way of getting out of the bathroom by herself. She sighed heavily, then, wrapping herself tightly in a towel, called out, "Doctor!"
"What is it, Rose?" his voice called back immediately. Had he been waiting outside the door for her?
"I forgot to bring clothes in here," she said, feeling herself turn pink. "Can you get me some?"
"Yeah, hold on." She heard him moving away from the door, opening the dresser in her room, and coming back. "Can you get to the door, or do I need to come in and give it to you?"
"I-I don't think I can make it," she replied, sure she was bright red by now.
The door opened, and the Doctor poked his head in. The tips of his ears were pink, but he wore a very business-like expression on his face. He placed the clothes on the counter next to her, then asked, "Do you need any help?"
"I'll need help getting out of here, but I don't think I need help dressing. I got undressed well enough."
The Doctor nodded. "Okay." He walked to the door, then turned back to her. "I'm so glad you're better."
She smiled. "Me, too."
When she called him back into the room, he returned immediately and scooped her up, one arm behind her neck, the other beneath her knees.
"I can walk!" she protested. "Let me down!"
"You actually can't walk," the Doctor informed her, "at least, not without needing support. It'll be much faster this way." He got to the bed. "Here, I'll put you down now." He slid her gently down to the floor, then wrapped her in a tight hug. "I was so worried," he murmured. "I thought that..." He trailed off, unable to voice his thought, and buried his face in her neck.
"Hey," she said soothingly. "It's all right. I'm fine. You can't get rid of me."
He seemed to ignore her. "I almost lost you," he whispered. "And I never..." Without finishing, he pressed his lips to hers.
The kiss was gentle but insistent, and he held her tightly to her. If she had wanted to pull away, which she didn't, she knew it would have been easy, but she stayed in his arms, letting him kiss her like she had dreamed for months now. And reality was so much better than dreams.
Much as she was loathe to, Rose had to break away to breathe. Panting slightly, she laid her head on the Doctor's chest, her arms wrapped around him. "What was that?" she asked.
The Doctor squeezed her gently. "That was me losing the battle with my good intentions," he told her.
She grinned. "Good," she replied, and squeezed him back. "You know what I wanna do?" she asked a minute later.
"What?"
"I want to go back to the TARDIS and leave this place behind before that prince gets any ideas now that I'm better."
The Doctor grinned. "I think I can get you what you want." He swept her up into his arms again, and she squeaked in surprise. Before she could protest, though, he reminded her, "Still dizzy, remember? You can't walk!"
Rose's giggles sounded through the palace as they dashed through the halls and out into the courtyard. Their echoes were drown out only by the whirring engines of the time ship as they left without a second thought.