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It's been three months since he arrived in Pete's World and the Doctor finds himself slowly adjusting to life. He loves his home with Rose, his life, their intimacy. He loves going to work with her, even if he doesn't always enjoy working for Torchwood.
He lives the feeling of her hand in his, running together. For the most part, things are as they should be.
There's only one thing that really, really bothers him.
The Doctor needs to sleep now, wasting at least six to seven hours dreaming in his bed. The brainy specs he used to wear for show are now necessary, particularly if he wants to see what he is reading. There's little aches and pains and toaster burns that don't heal immediately and the bizarre feeling of one heart beating in a chest used to two.
It seems as though Rose is attuned to every wince or groan he makes and she's always there with an anxious "You okay?"
He always answers with, "M' fine! Don't worry about me!" He worries as well. He worries that despite it all, she doesn't think he's the same, that he's weaker now that he's only part Time Lord. Her concern just proves how utterly rubbish this body can be. He tries not to worry her. He's always all right. Even when he's not.
Seventy-two hours after returning from a field operation in conjunction with the Cardiff team, the Doctor develops a scratchy throat that he tries to ignore.
Seventy seven hours later he's developed a cough that's settling in his chest. The fever hits about two hours after that, and he can't hide his illness from Rose any longer. Rose orders him to bed, and he's miserable with chills and a pounding headache.
Eighty-three hours later Rose is calling Torchwood because whatever is afflicting the Doctor has accelerated and he is unconscious. It reminds her of the regeneration coma and she is terrified. In the middle of the night he's transported to Torchwood's infirmary under the watchful care of their newest physician, Dr. Martha Jones.
Martha diagnoses him with a rare alien virus he picked up during the mission. His full Time Lord body likely had immunity to it. This half-human one doesn't. He's new to this universe where nearly everybody in it has already been immunized for the virus. Rose hadn't thought about the possibility of him ever coming in contact with the virus.
Rose is losing her composure as Martha gives her the news. The Doctor is in a medically induced coma, as the Time Lord part of his physiology fights the virus along with a powerful antiviral developed by Torchwood. Jackie hugs her tightly and rocks her as she cries.
Fortunately Martha Jones is every bit as compassionate and brilliant as the one in her original universe and she calms Rose down. "It looks bad, and it'll be frightening to see him like this. But he is already getting better, Rose. The meds are already working. He's tough. Just get through these next few hours." Rose nods, still crying, and Martha hugs her.
Jackie and Rose enter the Doctor's hospital room hand in hand like little lost children in a dark forest. Jackie squeezes Rose's hand tightly as they take in the sight of the Doctor, unconscious in a dimly lit hospital room. The machine breathing for him wheezes while monitor lights blink and beep. The steady sound of the heart monitor serves to calm her a bit.
"He's better off than when he just had the pair of us that first Christmas. At least he's got a proper doctor," Jackie whispers.
"I wish this could be solved with your tea," Rose sighs.
"Oh, love," Jackie murmurs.
They sit with the Doctor and wait, because that's all there is to do. This time, instead of whispering "help me" she whispers "I love you" in his ear, but he doesn't wake up yet. After a while Rose strokes his hair and tells her mother stories of their travels in the TARDIS just so he can hear her voice.
After eight hours Martha decides to dial back the medication keeping him unconscious. A while after that, he is taken off the ventilator. Rose can kiss him again and she does. Jackie heads home to take care of Tony.
Rose is exhausted so she rests her head on the bed and it doesn't take long for her to doze off in the uncomfortable chair. Her sleep is fitful and her dreams are unpleasant. She doesn't even realize she's whimpering and crying in her sleep until she feels a hand caressing her hair and a hoarse voice murmuring "Rose, love."
Rose sits up immediately and is greeted by the concerned eyes and sleepy smile of the Doctor. "Oh...." is all she can say before she bursts into relieved tears. She sits on the edge of the bed and they embrace awkwardly around the tubes and wires. She holds him until he becomes too exhausted to sit up. When he lays back she leans over and rests her head on his chest, ever mindful of the wires. The Doctor puts his hand on her back, holding her to him. "Oh, I was so worried," she sighs.
Out of habit he rasps, "Don't worry about me." Rose sits up and glares at him.
"And why, precisely, would I not worry about you?" Rose snaps. "Maybe if you'd been a little more forthcoming, and told me how you were feeling a little sooner...maybe we wouldn't be in this mess. Maybe you wouldn't have spent eight hours with a tube down your throat, with a machine breathing for you?" She's properly furious with him. "Why Doctor? It drives me spare when you say 'don't worry' or 'I'm alright,' when I know you're not! It's not like I haven't always worried about you. I've worried about you since...Cardiff, you know. The first time. If you for one minute don't think you're worth my worry, then you're daft. I can't think of a time I wouldn't want to know what's going on with you, Doctor. I love you!" She's pacing around his room now.
Maybe it's due to illness and exhaustion, but for once the Doctor's impressive gob fails him. He follows her back and forth trajectory around the room with tired eyes. He finally mumbles something about weakness, rubbish human bodies and not being enough. Not being Time Lord enough.
Rose looks at him incredulously. "Well, that's just about as daft as the other thing. You are enough. You've always been enough, fully Time Lord or half human. I didn't fall in love with your fancy time ship or your Time....Lordiness. I fell in love with the man you are, and have always been, since you wore leather. So I'm always going to worry. If something's wrong, tell me. I'm not going to think any less of you." She sat down on his bed again and took his hand. "I love you."
"I love you, Rose Tyler," he responds. He tugs her hand and pulls her closer so he can kiss her hand. Then he smirks. "Time Lordiness?"
"Oh, shut up. I haven't had proper sleep in a whole day. It's a wonder I can string coherent words together to make a sentence." They chuckle.
The Doctor squeezes Rose's hand. "You were having a nightmare. Are you okay?"
"Oh, don't worry about me." His left eyebrow arches and she claps a hand over her mouth. "I actually can't believe I just said that," she gasps. The Doctor only has energy for a smirk. His eyes are already half closed with exhaustion. After a long pause Rose murmurs, "Yeah, I suppose I was. It's been a rough several hours. I was frightened."
"I'm so sorry, love." The Doctor pulls her back down to his chest. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you from the beginning."
Rose's hand rests over his heart. She can feel its beat and it comforts her. "I'm sorry I lost my temper just now. You're sick, you don't need me lecturing you. And you had no way of knowing the virus would escalate that quickly.
Just know you never have to hide anything from me."
"I suppose the plan is to worry and nag each other going forward?"
Rose nods. "That's the plan. Always."
"Agreed," he says on a sleepy sigh. Despite the uncomfortable position she feels slumber tugging at her as well. Her eyes become heavy and close.
"I'm glad you're better, my Doctor," Rose murmurs. "'S always better with you." He kisses her hair so gently it's barely felt.
"I love you, Rose Tyler," the Doctor whispers as Rose finally lets herself relax in his arms. He dozes as well.
That is how Jackie finds them when she returns with a large thermos of tea for Rose. She places a kiss on Rose's cheek, then the Doctor's forehead, and leaves the room as silently as she entered. The pair of them can share that tea, she decides.
They both wake a bit later to find the thermos and once he's checked thoroughly by Martha and she's confident that he's on the upswing, Rose splits the tea between the two of them and and they enjoy it, relieved that he's improving. When he gets to go home twenty- four hours later the Doctor credits Martha's expertise, Jackie's tea, and Rose's love for his recovery.