Part 02 - Chapter 11 - Hurts and Exposure
His room is dark and silent, no sound but for the quite hum of the TARDIS as she floats in the Vortex. He sits in his bed curled around himself, gently rocking. Not since he left Alistair's has he felt so gutted. He is exhausted yet all he sees when he closes his eyes are the dead and dying. The ghosts that have tormented him and at the same time have kept him company since the day his home planet died. True, there have been the occasional times in the weeks since Rose came that he has actually been able to sleep for more than short stretches but the events of the day are too fresh and raw. The dying Dalek restored by Rose's compassionate touch; the uncounted dead because of Van Statten's selfish greed and unwillingness to listen and as always the aching silence in his mind where once his people were.
He cringes at the thought of the excruciating pain of Van Statten's tests. Intense stabs of pain still spasm throughout his chest, shoulders and arms as he rocks, his body urging him to be still, to rest, yet his mind drives him; exacting the punishment, he feels he deserves. He welcomes the pain, as he knows he deserves every ounce of it for what he has done. Two rocks, two lances of pain for locking Rose in with Dalek, another for letting the Dalek out, another two for pointing a gun at Rose, another set for his selfishness, another and another for each way he feels he has failed 'til he can barely separate each surge of pain as he forces his body to move. Finally, he is halted in his self-flagellations as his chest spasms so tightly that he can barely breathe for a few moments.
He rolls from the bed, his body shaking, he can't stay here anymore; his mind is far too noisy in the quiet. He staggers to the bathroom, leaning for a moment in the doorway to catch his breath again. The man who greets him in the mirror is as pale in the face as a ghost, but it's his body that speaks even more loudly of his hurt. He is naked from the waist up, his chest and shoulders covered with webs of bruises. His wrists are surrounded by wide bands of purplish blue caused by the manacles that had secured him to machine after machine as Van Statten electronically worked at dissecting him; all that pain just searching for secrets from his physiology that could be profitable. For a long time he stands leaning, hands braced on the edge of the sink, gripping it far tighter than is needed to support his body upright. His eyes are locked on those of his reflection as if some how he might, if he looks hard enough, see what it is that Rose sees in him that makes him putting her life constantly in jeopardy worthwhile. He wants to believe there is something there that he cannot see, but can't fathom what it may be. He wants... needs to believe there is something, yet all he can see in those eyes is blackness far darker then the bruises that adorn his body.
He wants to be clean, and seeks out his shower hoping that somehow in this simple act he may wash away the taint on his soul. He wants to wash away the belief that somehow he might have something to give this young human besides an early grave, for hope, he decides is too heady a concept for one as sullied, as undeserving as he. He climbs in the shower and turns on the water as hot as he can, maybe he can burn out this foolish hope with boiling water. The TARDIS will not oblige and the water, while hot, is nowhere near scalding. For a long while, he stands with his forehead and hands bracing him up under the water that stream down his body. He then scrubs at his skin; heedless of the hurts his body is already sporting, until it is almost raw. So pointless, no matter what quantity of water, he knows he shall never be clean, so he just gets out, dries off and puts on his pajamas again.
Looking longingly at the bed, he shakes his head grabs his pajama top and goes for a cup of tea. As he moves down the hall he notes that Rose's room is now two doors down from his own and wonders what has prompted the TARDIS to move her room. He had made himself clear when Rose had first came on board that she was not to be close enough to be disturbed by his nightmares and yet again resents the TARDIS' newfound independence. Entering the kitchen, he stands in the doorway, pausing to think of all the companions with whom he has shared this four-person table. He can mentally enumerate the different ways they have all left him, they always leave him no matter what they say, too many times the choice is made for them by time or death. Morosely he moves to start the tea, going through the motions more for something to do then a burning desire for some of the hot beverage. Just as he decides, he is going to turn the pot off and leave he turns and spots a sleepy Rose Tyler standing in the doorway.
"Rose?" he said at her unexpected presence "What brings you here at this time of night?"
"Just thinking and decided I wanted some tea." She says, as she can't bring herself to tell him that it was hearing him moving about and the almost overwhelming grief she has been feeling from him that had awoken her. These past few weeks she has come to the conclusion that whatever allows her to tune into his and other peoples feelings when they are outside of the TARDIS doesn't usually seem to work while within it's walls. She has also come to suspect it is the TARDIS that is shielding her from picking up his feelings most of the time. Whether that is for his benefit or hers, she is not usually sure, thought tonight she is sure that she felt his emotions due to his great distress. It was also not lost on her that when she had exited her room the hallway contained another door she had never seen before which, she was positive, must lead to the Doctor's room.
Concerned at what she may be thinking he pauses, reluctant to ask, so instead states, "Just put the kettle on, it should be ready soon."
"Doctor, I was thinking, why did they do it?" she says as she sits at the table watching him rummage around the cabinets.
Confused at her question he momentarily looks over and asks, "Who do what?" then, unwilling to meet her gaze, he returns to looking in the cabinet for the double size cup he purchased for Rose when she had fallen in love with it while on a shopping trip. The rose bloom shape of the cup, she had said, fits in her hands perfectly and warms them up nicely.
"Why did the Daleks choose to live like that?"
"They didn't so much decide as they were bred like that, bred to fight in a war on a contaminated planet that had known only war for centuries. Daleks weren't the original inhabitants, only what was left of them after everyone else was dead."
The silence continues as she takes in that information and tries to figure out how to broach the topic of what happened at Van Statten's underground base. She had both seen and felt how much anguish he felt as he confronted the Dalek. Nevertheless, she couldn't let him kill it even though the Daleks were the cause of him losing his people. She had felt the Daleks emotions too, confusion and fear and yes, grief at the loss of its purpose in life. These were all things that she had not sensed in the beginning; at first, all she had felt was pain and anger. At the time she had thought the anger was at the man that had been torturing it, but she came to realize, as it was chasing them, that hate was the only real emotion it had previously. She understood that to the Doctor facing that Dalek was much like a holocaust victim being closed up with a Nazi, but she also knew how much he regretted seeing anyone die and how it tore him up when he mentioned someone who had died on account of something he did. She wouldn't let him carry yet one more death on his conscience.
He sat across from her and thought how young and beautiful she looked sitting there in her pink pajamas. How could he have ever thought it would be okay for her come with him? He knew better, knew that his life tended to get people killed. Yet, in spite of that, he dreaded the thought of being alone again; couldn't bear the thought of making her leave.
As the teapot announced its readiness, he got up and filled their cups. Bringing them over he put his down and handed Rose hers. As he turned to go get the cream she reached out for his wrist to restrain him, she jumped as he jerked back, her clasp causing him unexpected pain.
"Doctor, what's the matter?" she said, concern evident in her eyes.
"Nothing." he replied a little too quickly, making Rose immediately suspicious.
"What's wrong?" she said just as she noticed the edge of the spider web of bruises at the neckline of his pajamas; which immediately redirected her eyes to the hand he had snatched back so unexpectedly. Her eyes widened in surprise and alarm as she spotted the edge of the dark blackish purple bruise previously hidden by his cuff. "Doctor, you're hurt!" she said accusingly, daring him with her eyes to deny his injury. "Why didn't you say something?"
Backing up out of her reach he crossed his arms against his chest, as both a barrier and means of hiding his injured wrists, as he neatly folded them up under his upper arms, "It's nothing!" he repeated as he continued to back up.
Giving him no time for further denials, she launched herself at him, plucking at the front of his pajamas exposing more of the bruises on his chest. "Just like these are nothing I suppose?"
Grabbing at the neck of his pajamas to prevent her from seeing anything further, he exposes his other wrist to her scrutiny, realizing his mistake a moment too late and moving his hand behind his back.
"Med Bay, NOW, Doctor!" she says, curling her small hand in his shirtfront to both restrain and drag him towards the door. She was mad not just at him but herself. She knew he wasn’t good at seeing to his own injuries she had learned that after Big Ben where he had been peppered by flying glass. He had insisted on seeing to everyone else before taking care of himself in spite of the lingering mud that could have so easily started an infection, and his hand… true by the time they had got to a proper clean up it had made a fair amount of progress in it’s healing but she had been surprised he hadn’t at least taken some precautions to keep it clean.
"Rose," he begins, as he digs in his heals, temporarily stopping her forward momentum, "It's okay, you know I heal faster then you do, really it's fine," he tries to convince her. The idea of her seeing the full extent of the bruising, exposed to her physically, just as he was earlier exposed emotionally, scares him.
The glare he receives in return would have done Jackie Tyler proud and between that and her unrelenting grasp, he must capitulate or risk hurting her trying to escape. Resigning himself to the fact she would have his shirt off shortly, he tries to think of some reason for him not healing his injuries, even as he has done for other small wounds in the past.
In spite of everything that has happened, he doesn't know if he can yet explain to Rose why it hurts so much knowing how he has repeatedly failed those that depended on him. How is he to explain to his sweet innocent Rose? How can he explain what it means to know you're responsible for the death of every one of your species? When they had talked that second day they were together, he had been careful not to tell her whose fault it was they had died. He had just told her they were gone, destroyed in the war, he couldn't face telling her what he had done then and he knew with equal certainty that he would be unable to now. Even then, he had felt a connection with her and he was terrified to tell her his darkest secret. He knows it would destroy him if she turned her back in disgust and fear and walked away, or worse ran away from him. How far the mighty Time Lord race had fallen that he was its only representative and was cowering in fear of what a nineteen-year-old human would think of him; Rassilion would be spinning in his tomb… if he still had one.
It doesn't take them long to get to the med bay and he curses at the TARDIS for keeping it so close. 'So what do you want of me now TARDIS? Do you enjoy humiliating me?' he practically shouts his thoughts at her, yet again finding it easier to be angry then to deal with his other feelings.
'Theta, you need to heal those injuries and using them to torment yourself is not going to help anyone. It won't bring anyone back, and it won't change what has happened.'
His response to her words is a non-verbal sulk that clearly conveys he thinks that she is meddling where she shouldn't.
Rose, not party to the non-verbal conversation that was going on between the Doctor and the TARDIS, begins to feel the anger in the Doctor rising and wonders if she is pushing too hard by the dragging him by the shirt front. She stalls in her tracks as she catches the TARDIS' emotions and the sound of her background hum changes. Fortunately, for her the medical bay is close and the Doctor seems too preoccupied with his internal conversation to realize that she has come to a complete halt.
Rose consciously takes the next few steps that take them to one of the medical beds, stops again and makes eye contact with the Doctor. She can see the anger in his eyes but she knows she has to know how badly he is hurt. More then once she has seen him ignore his own injuries and is very concerned that he is so reluctant to take care of himself. Screwing up her courage in the face of his anger she says, "Doctor you're hurt, I want to help but I can't if you won't let me." Looking at him with pleading in her eyes she hopes he can see and not deny.
Looking into Rose's beautiful brown eyes so filled with compassion and concern he feels like a stupid ass for even going anywhere she might be, she didn’t have to see this, didn't need to know what Van Statten had done. It would have been far better for her not to know. Unfortunately, now because of his carelessness, she does know. After everything he has done to her today, he can't deny her but he doesn't know how to proceed and breaks away from her gaze.
Rose breaths a sigh of relief that he hasn't blown up at her for dragging him in here and when he can't hold her gaze and feels a wave of embarrassment from him, she steps forward and gently begins to undo the buttons on his top. Talking to him quietly and cautiously like one might a skittish wild animal. "Doctor, I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to see what I can do to help."
As she begins to undo the buttons, he doesn't fight her, though his hands unconsciously begin clenching in the sheets on the bed he is sitting on, his body a study of tensed muscles and restrained motion. He can't help but feel shame at his own stupidity, she has found out and he hasn't been able to protect her from the ugly knowledge that Van Statten had tortured him. As her nimble fingers undo the second button, he feels her stiffen as she sees more of the bruises covering his chest and shoulders, and her delicate touch to the center of his chest causes him to shiver slightly.
"Does it hurt much?" she asks quietly. When he doesn't answer, she doesn't push him to do so; as she can still acutely feel the shame and embarrassment that this situation is causing him. Deciding it will probably be best to get though this as quickly as possible, she rapidly unbuttons the rest of the shirt buttons and gently eases off his shirt conscious of how such extensive bruising could be painful with twisting, and trying not to cringe as she sees the full scope of the bruises.
He can't answer as she speaks to him, he doesn't dare. Her close proximity is doing things to him that keeps him frozen. Here she is all concerned about him being hurt and all he can think about is her soft hands and how gentle her fingers are as she takes his shirt off. He hates himself even more for these feelings. After everything he has done, how can he even think she would want someone as damaged as he, she can't know how the gentle brush of her fingers is setting his blood on fire. It is just wrong!
Frequently since his confession in Ten Downing Street, she has wondered what he would look like wearing less clothing. She has not though envisioned this kind of circumstances under which she would first get to see him without both jacket and jumper. Looking at the damage, she wants to cry. "What did he do?" She bemoans quietly.
Her words lead his own thoughts; he has nearly gotten her killed today again that is what he has done. This time it was by locking her in with a Dalek. Had she yelled at him for sealing the vault? Had she cried and bemoaned her fate? No, instead she had told him she didn't regret any of it; she tried to comfort him tell him it wasn't his fault. She hadn't blamed him, in fact she had begged him not to open the vault when the Dalek had demand he do so; even though to refuse it would mean her death. He didn't deserve her compassion; she would be dead if it hadn't been for a quirk of fate that had resulted in the Dalek's mutating. Again, he was the coward, she was willing to give her life to protect others and he had been only able to think of himself and of how he would feel if she died. The Dalek had seen right through him when it had asked 'What good are emotions if you won't save the woman you love?'
Quickly she turns to the drawer where the dermal regenerator he has just recently taught her how to use is stored in order to prevent him from seeing how close she is to crying. How can she have been so stupid to let Van Statten hustle her off with Adam? She had said herself when they saw all the alien artifacts that him being a living alien would make him exhibit A. Oh God! What if it was her comment that prompted them to hurt him? "Oh Doctor I am so sorry!" she blurts out at that thought.
Shaken out of his thoughts by her sudden exclamation the only thing he can think is, "What in the universe for? It wasn't your fault that we were there! It's I that should be apologizing to you!" He says almost sobbing. "I should never have taken you away from London, if I had left you there you would still be safe with your mum, not getting locked in with a Dalek, a mad man and an alien in an underground bunker on the other side of the planet."
The flare of anguish Rose feels from him astounds her. Without thinking, she puts down the regenerator and clasps her hands around his face, finger tips barely brushing his temples as she forces him to look her in the eyes. "Doctor I wouldn't want to be anywhere else! I don't regret one moment of the time we have had together and I never will!
Neither of them expects the force of the connection she unwittingly creates. The explosiveness of her passionate statement blasting into his mind even as moments earlier his anguish had pushed itself in to hers; the results leave them both shaken.
He just stares, stunned, at her even as she does at him; the feeling of shock at such an intimate mind to mind contact leaving them both unsure what to say next. Frozen, as they are, the connection remains intact as each slowly collects their wits.
Rose feels the shocked surprise from the Doctor and her eyes involuntarily glaze over and close as she feels his mind moving at a frenetic pace trying to figure out how she has made this connection; the scurrying touch of his thoughts causing her to shiver; and the sensation makes her tremble with pleasure. Never has she felt anything like this before.
He doesn't know what to do. His first impulse is to start to shove her out of his mind, but the wave of pleasure that immediately follows Rose's initial shock make him too close his eyes as her mental presence flows over his mind like a soothing balm, the sheer pleasure of touching another mind like this again is too much for him. He gasps and shakes violently, wrenching himself away from her touch. All he knows is he has to get away and he pushes away from her stumbling as he bolts for the door completely dazed. He can't contaminate her; or sully her with his darkness. There is no way she can know how to do that, yet some how she has breeched his defenses. His rapid staggering flight comes to an abrupt halt as he runs full tilt into the frame of the door, the force of his impact knocking him out cold.
Chapter 12 - What Happened?
Moving Forward Index 1
He cringes at the thought of the excruciating pain of Van Statten's tests. Intense stabs of pain still spasm throughout his chest, shoulders and arms as he rocks, his body urging him to be still, to rest, yet his mind drives him; exacting the punishment, he feels he deserves. He welcomes the pain, as he knows he deserves every ounce of it for what he has done. Two rocks, two lances of pain for locking Rose in with Dalek, another for letting the Dalek out, another two for pointing a gun at Rose, another set for his selfishness, another and another for each way he feels he has failed 'til he can barely separate each surge of pain as he forces his body to move. Finally, he is halted in his self-flagellations as his chest spasms so tightly that he can barely breathe for a few moments.
He rolls from the bed, his body shaking, he can't stay here anymore; his mind is far too noisy in the quiet. He staggers to the bathroom, leaning for a moment in the doorway to catch his breath again. The man who greets him in the mirror is as pale in the face as a ghost, but it's his body that speaks even more loudly of his hurt. He is naked from the waist up, his chest and shoulders covered with webs of bruises. His wrists are surrounded by wide bands of purplish blue caused by the manacles that had secured him to machine after machine as Van Statten electronically worked at dissecting him; all that pain just searching for secrets from his physiology that could be profitable. For a long time he stands leaning, hands braced on the edge of the sink, gripping it far tighter than is needed to support his body upright. His eyes are locked on those of his reflection as if some how he might, if he looks hard enough, see what it is that Rose sees in him that makes him putting her life constantly in jeopardy worthwhile. He wants to believe there is something there that he cannot see, but can't fathom what it may be. He wants... needs to believe there is something, yet all he can see in those eyes is blackness far darker then the bruises that adorn his body.
He wants to be clean, and seeks out his shower hoping that somehow in this simple act he may wash away the taint on his soul. He wants to wash away the belief that somehow he might have something to give this young human besides an early grave, for hope, he decides is too heady a concept for one as sullied, as undeserving as he. He climbs in the shower and turns on the water as hot as he can, maybe he can burn out this foolish hope with boiling water. The TARDIS will not oblige and the water, while hot, is nowhere near scalding. For a long while, he stands with his forehead and hands bracing him up under the water that stream down his body. He then scrubs at his skin; heedless of the hurts his body is already sporting, until it is almost raw. So pointless, no matter what quantity of water, he knows he shall never be clean, so he just gets out, dries off and puts on his pajamas again.
Looking longingly at the bed, he shakes his head grabs his pajama top and goes for a cup of tea. As he moves down the hall he notes that Rose's room is now two doors down from his own and wonders what has prompted the TARDIS to move her room. He had made himself clear when Rose had first came on board that she was not to be close enough to be disturbed by his nightmares and yet again resents the TARDIS' newfound independence. Entering the kitchen, he stands in the doorway, pausing to think of all the companions with whom he has shared this four-person table. He can mentally enumerate the different ways they have all left him, they always leave him no matter what they say, too many times the choice is made for them by time or death. Morosely he moves to start the tea, going through the motions more for something to do then a burning desire for some of the hot beverage. Just as he decides, he is going to turn the pot off and leave he turns and spots a sleepy Rose Tyler standing in the doorway.
"Rose?" he said at her unexpected presence "What brings you here at this time of night?"
"Just thinking and decided I wanted some tea." She says, as she can't bring herself to tell him that it was hearing him moving about and the almost overwhelming grief she has been feeling from him that had awoken her. These past few weeks she has come to the conclusion that whatever allows her to tune into his and other peoples feelings when they are outside of the TARDIS doesn't usually seem to work while within it's walls. She has also come to suspect it is the TARDIS that is shielding her from picking up his feelings most of the time. Whether that is for his benefit or hers, she is not usually sure, thought tonight she is sure that she felt his emotions due to his great distress. It was also not lost on her that when she had exited her room the hallway contained another door she had never seen before which, she was positive, must lead to the Doctor's room.
Concerned at what she may be thinking he pauses, reluctant to ask, so instead states, "Just put the kettle on, it should be ready soon."
"Doctor, I was thinking, why did they do it?" she says as she sits at the table watching him rummage around the cabinets.
Confused at her question he momentarily looks over and asks, "Who do what?" then, unwilling to meet her gaze, he returns to looking in the cabinet for the double size cup he purchased for Rose when she had fallen in love with it while on a shopping trip. The rose bloom shape of the cup, she had said, fits in her hands perfectly and warms them up nicely.
"Why did the Daleks choose to live like that?"
"They didn't so much decide as they were bred like that, bred to fight in a war on a contaminated planet that had known only war for centuries. Daleks weren't the original inhabitants, only what was left of them after everyone else was dead."
The silence continues as she takes in that information and tries to figure out how to broach the topic of what happened at Van Statten's underground base. She had both seen and felt how much anguish he felt as he confronted the Dalek. Nevertheless, she couldn't let him kill it even though the Daleks were the cause of him losing his people. She had felt the Daleks emotions too, confusion and fear and yes, grief at the loss of its purpose in life. These were all things that she had not sensed in the beginning; at first, all she had felt was pain and anger. At the time she had thought the anger was at the man that had been torturing it, but she came to realize, as it was chasing them, that hate was the only real emotion it had previously. She understood that to the Doctor facing that Dalek was much like a holocaust victim being closed up with a Nazi, but she also knew how much he regretted seeing anyone die and how it tore him up when he mentioned someone who had died on account of something he did. She wouldn't let him carry yet one more death on his conscience.
He sat across from her and thought how young and beautiful she looked sitting there in her pink pajamas. How could he have ever thought it would be okay for her come with him? He knew better, knew that his life tended to get people killed. Yet, in spite of that, he dreaded the thought of being alone again; couldn't bear the thought of making her leave.
As the teapot announced its readiness, he got up and filled their cups. Bringing them over he put his down and handed Rose hers. As he turned to go get the cream she reached out for his wrist to restrain him, she jumped as he jerked back, her clasp causing him unexpected pain.
"Doctor, what's the matter?" she said, concern evident in her eyes.
"Nothing." he replied a little too quickly, making Rose immediately suspicious.
"What's wrong?" she said just as she noticed the edge of the spider web of bruises at the neckline of his pajamas; which immediately redirected her eyes to the hand he had snatched back so unexpectedly. Her eyes widened in surprise and alarm as she spotted the edge of the dark blackish purple bruise previously hidden by his cuff. "Doctor, you're hurt!" she said accusingly, daring him with her eyes to deny his injury. "Why didn't you say something?"
Backing up out of her reach he crossed his arms against his chest, as both a barrier and means of hiding his injured wrists, as he neatly folded them up under his upper arms, "It's nothing!" he repeated as he continued to back up.
Giving him no time for further denials, she launched herself at him, plucking at the front of his pajamas exposing more of the bruises on his chest. "Just like these are nothing I suppose?"
Grabbing at the neck of his pajamas to prevent her from seeing anything further, he exposes his other wrist to her scrutiny, realizing his mistake a moment too late and moving his hand behind his back.
"Med Bay, NOW, Doctor!" she says, curling her small hand in his shirtfront to both restrain and drag him towards the door. She was mad not just at him but herself. She knew he wasn’t good at seeing to his own injuries she had learned that after Big Ben where he had been peppered by flying glass. He had insisted on seeing to everyone else before taking care of himself in spite of the lingering mud that could have so easily started an infection, and his hand… true by the time they had got to a proper clean up it had made a fair amount of progress in it’s healing but she had been surprised he hadn’t at least taken some precautions to keep it clean.
"Rose," he begins, as he digs in his heals, temporarily stopping her forward momentum, "It's okay, you know I heal faster then you do, really it's fine," he tries to convince her. The idea of her seeing the full extent of the bruising, exposed to her physically, just as he was earlier exposed emotionally, scares him.
The glare he receives in return would have done Jackie Tyler proud and between that and her unrelenting grasp, he must capitulate or risk hurting her trying to escape. Resigning himself to the fact she would have his shirt off shortly, he tries to think of some reason for him not healing his injuries, even as he has done for other small wounds in the past.
In spite of everything that has happened, he doesn't know if he can yet explain to Rose why it hurts so much knowing how he has repeatedly failed those that depended on him. How is he to explain to his sweet innocent Rose? How can he explain what it means to know you're responsible for the death of every one of your species? When they had talked that second day they were together, he had been careful not to tell her whose fault it was they had died. He had just told her they were gone, destroyed in the war, he couldn't face telling her what he had done then and he knew with equal certainty that he would be unable to now. Even then, he had felt a connection with her and he was terrified to tell her his darkest secret. He knows it would destroy him if she turned her back in disgust and fear and walked away, or worse ran away from him. How far the mighty Time Lord race had fallen that he was its only representative and was cowering in fear of what a nineteen-year-old human would think of him; Rassilion would be spinning in his tomb… if he still had one.
It doesn't take them long to get to the med bay and he curses at the TARDIS for keeping it so close. 'So what do you want of me now TARDIS? Do you enjoy humiliating me?' he practically shouts his thoughts at her, yet again finding it easier to be angry then to deal with his other feelings.
'Theta, you need to heal those injuries and using them to torment yourself is not going to help anyone. It won't bring anyone back, and it won't change what has happened.'
His response to her words is a non-verbal sulk that clearly conveys he thinks that she is meddling where she shouldn't.
Rose, not party to the non-verbal conversation that was going on between the Doctor and the TARDIS, begins to feel the anger in the Doctor rising and wonders if she is pushing too hard by the dragging him by the shirt front. She stalls in her tracks as she catches the TARDIS' emotions and the sound of her background hum changes. Fortunately, for her the medical bay is close and the Doctor seems too preoccupied with his internal conversation to realize that she has come to a complete halt.
Rose consciously takes the next few steps that take them to one of the medical beds, stops again and makes eye contact with the Doctor. She can see the anger in his eyes but she knows she has to know how badly he is hurt. More then once she has seen him ignore his own injuries and is very concerned that he is so reluctant to take care of himself. Screwing up her courage in the face of his anger she says, "Doctor you're hurt, I want to help but I can't if you won't let me." Looking at him with pleading in her eyes she hopes he can see and not deny.
Looking into Rose's beautiful brown eyes so filled with compassion and concern he feels like a stupid ass for even going anywhere she might be, she didn’t have to see this, didn't need to know what Van Statten had done. It would have been far better for her not to know. Unfortunately, now because of his carelessness, she does know. After everything he has done to her today, he can't deny her but he doesn't know how to proceed and breaks away from her gaze.
Rose breaths a sigh of relief that he hasn't blown up at her for dragging him in here and when he can't hold her gaze and feels a wave of embarrassment from him, she steps forward and gently begins to undo the buttons on his top. Talking to him quietly and cautiously like one might a skittish wild animal. "Doctor, I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to see what I can do to help."
As she begins to undo the buttons, he doesn't fight her, though his hands unconsciously begin clenching in the sheets on the bed he is sitting on, his body a study of tensed muscles and restrained motion. He can't help but feel shame at his own stupidity, she has found out and he hasn't been able to protect her from the ugly knowledge that Van Statten had tortured him. As her nimble fingers undo the second button, he feels her stiffen as she sees more of the bruises covering his chest and shoulders, and her delicate touch to the center of his chest causes him to shiver slightly.
"Does it hurt much?" she asks quietly. When he doesn't answer, she doesn't push him to do so; as she can still acutely feel the shame and embarrassment that this situation is causing him. Deciding it will probably be best to get though this as quickly as possible, she rapidly unbuttons the rest of the shirt buttons and gently eases off his shirt conscious of how such extensive bruising could be painful with twisting, and trying not to cringe as she sees the full scope of the bruises.
He can't answer as she speaks to him, he doesn't dare. Her close proximity is doing things to him that keeps him frozen. Here she is all concerned about him being hurt and all he can think about is her soft hands and how gentle her fingers are as she takes his shirt off. He hates himself even more for these feelings. After everything he has done, how can he even think she would want someone as damaged as he, she can't know how the gentle brush of her fingers is setting his blood on fire. It is just wrong!
Frequently since his confession in Ten Downing Street, she has wondered what he would look like wearing less clothing. She has not though envisioned this kind of circumstances under which she would first get to see him without both jacket and jumper. Looking at the damage, she wants to cry. "What did he do?" She bemoans quietly.
Her words lead his own thoughts; he has nearly gotten her killed today again that is what he has done. This time it was by locking her in with a Dalek. Had she yelled at him for sealing the vault? Had she cried and bemoaned her fate? No, instead she had told him she didn't regret any of it; she tried to comfort him tell him it wasn't his fault. She hadn't blamed him, in fact she had begged him not to open the vault when the Dalek had demand he do so; even though to refuse it would mean her death. He didn't deserve her compassion; she would be dead if it hadn't been for a quirk of fate that had resulted in the Dalek's mutating. Again, he was the coward, she was willing to give her life to protect others and he had been only able to think of himself and of how he would feel if she died. The Dalek had seen right through him when it had asked 'What good are emotions if you won't save the woman you love?'
Quickly she turns to the drawer where the dermal regenerator he has just recently taught her how to use is stored in order to prevent him from seeing how close she is to crying. How can she have been so stupid to let Van Statten hustle her off with Adam? She had said herself when they saw all the alien artifacts that him being a living alien would make him exhibit A. Oh God! What if it was her comment that prompted them to hurt him? "Oh Doctor I am so sorry!" she blurts out at that thought.
Shaken out of his thoughts by her sudden exclamation the only thing he can think is, "What in the universe for? It wasn't your fault that we were there! It's I that should be apologizing to you!" He says almost sobbing. "I should never have taken you away from London, if I had left you there you would still be safe with your mum, not getting locked in with a Dalek, a mad man and an alien in an underground bunker on the other side of the planet."
The flare of anguish Rose feels from him astounds her. Without thinking, she puts down the regenerator and clasps her hands around his face, finger tips barely brushing his temples as she forces him to look her in the eyes. "Doctor I wouldn't want to be anywhere else! I don't regret one moment of the time we have had together and I never will!
Neither of them expects the force of the connection she unwittingly creates. The explosiveness of her passionate statement blasting into his mind even as moments earlier his anguish had pushed itself in to hers; the results leave them both shaken.
He just stares, stunned, at her even as she does at him; the feeling of shock at such an intimate mind to mind contact leaving them both unsure what to say next. Frozen, as they are, the connection remains intact as each slowly collects their wits.
Rose feels the shocked surprise from the Doctor and her eyes involuntarily glaze over and close as she feels his mind moving at a frenetic pace trying to figure out how she has made this connection; the scurrying touch of his thoughts causing her to shiver; and the sensation makes her tremble with pleasure. Never has she felt anything like this before.
He doesn't know what to do. His first impulse is to start to shove her out of his mind, but the wave of pleasure that immediately follows Rose's initial shock make him too close his eyes as her mental presence flows over his mind like a soothing balm, the sheer pleasure of touching another mind like this again is too much for him. He gasps and shakes violently, wrenching himself away from her touch. All he knows is he has to get away and he pushes away from her stumbling as he bolts for the door completely dazed. He can't contaminate her; or sully her with his darkness. There is no way she can know how to do that, yet some how she has breeched his defenses. His rapid staggering flight comes to an abrupt halt as he runs full tilt into the frame of the door, the force of his impact knocking him out cold.
Chapter 12 - What Happened?
Moving Forward Index 1