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There were a great many things Rose Tyler expected to say to the Doctor when they were in bed together. Especially with him handcuffed to the headboard, arms stretched high above his head, body long and lean. She had fantasies about this.
Oh, did she have fantasies about this.
Many, many fantasies.
Delicious fantasies of kissing down his chest—beautiful chest that it was—and feeling those hands on her. Cool, large hands on her heated skin holding her to him as she explored more than the mole on his cheek but every single one of them. Every single muscle as she discovered what made him groan and what made him scream her name.
Not one of her fantasies involved a jail cell on a planet she couldn’t even name with her arm broken, two dozen or so scratches bleeding and aching on various parts of her body, and a feral Time Lord threatening to kill every last one of those responsible for her current position.
Honestly Rose wasn’t even certain what they’d done to deserve prison. Or the pain she currently endured. At least they had the decency to set her broken arm and give her a sling. Strangely accommodating weren’t they.
“Where’s Jack?” she asked as clearly as the pain allowed. That was not one of the things she wanted to say to the Doctor in bed, that was for darn sure. Didn’t even make the top fifty.
“Rose.”
She blinked up at the Doctor. “When did you move so close?”
“Rose,” he repeated and there was something funny about his voice. “Lie down, yeah? Just lay your head down, it’ll be all right.”
“Don’t have to tell me twice,” she thought—or said. Rose wasn’t sure which and did it matter?
“You matter, Rose,” she heard the Doctor say. It sounded funny with her ear pressed to his chest and his hearts pounding through her.
“Your hearts are beating,” she whispered, careful of her broken arm.
“Course they are,” the Doctor whispered. “You’re here.”
Rose swore she felt his lips brush the top of her head. Probably the pain amplifying her fantasies.
“Fantasies?” she thought she heard the Doctor ask.
“I’m in a lot of pain,” Rose mumbled. “You should probably ignore everything I say.” She frowned. “Or think.”
“I can’t read your mind, Rose.” And she definitely heard laughter in his voice.
Good. Better than I’m going to kill all of you for hurting Rose voice. Though she really did like the growly quality to that. Did all sorts of things to her insides. Lovely hot, wet, tingly things.
“Did I say that aloud?” The Doctor didn’t answer and Rose frowned harder but didn’t move. “Doctor?”
“Close your eyes, Rose,” he said. Rose swore his voice sounded strained. “Rest. I’ll get us out of here.”
“Without the sonic?” she asked but did as he bade. Even her eyelids hurt. “And without your shirt? Did I mention you have a very nice chest? I could lie on it all day.”
The Doctor made another growly, moan that went straight through her and Rose shivered. Then whimpered in pain.
“I’ll watch over you, Rose Tyler,” he whispered and once more she swore she felt his lips press to the top of her head. “Don’t worry.”
She smiled, or thought she did, tried to at least. But her arm ached and the scratches hurt, and she really was very tired. Rose closed her eyes and allowed herself to drift to sleep.
She jostled awake. “Ow,” she whimpered.
“If you die,” she heard Jack swear, “I’m going to kill you!”
“Jack?” she blinked and tried to sit up, but her body hurt more than she remembered it hurting before she fell asleep. Or passed out.
“Rose!” Jack moved too fast for her to see, but she definitely felt his lips on hers. “You’re awake!”
“What happened?” She looked around, but it was dark and the cart—cart?—they sat in didn’t have overhead lighting. No moon, little starlight, not much to go on.
“You mean other than you and the Doctor trying to start some sort of revolution on your own?” he snapped but didn’t look at her.
“We didn’t start anything, just shopping.” Rose squinted to see what happened, what he was doing, and—“Where’s the Doctor?”
“Damn fool thought he could break you out of the prison, handcuffed to the bed—nice by the way.” She heard the appreciative quality to his voice but his panic overrode it.
Or maybe it was her panic.
Rose didn’t know anything other than the Doctor was hurt. And even though her arm protested and her entire body screamed in pain, hell even her hair hurt, Rose scrambled over the cart, or whatever it was, to find the Doctor.
She tripped over something—his legs?—but reached Jack’s side where he pressed his hands to the Doctor’s right heart. Oh my God, he tried to restart it!
“And carry you, barefoot, clear across town,” Jack was saying.
“I don’t remember,” Rose whispered and brushed her fingers over the Doctor’s forehead. He felt too warm, not at all like his normal cool dryness. Fever, then. “I remember being in that cell, and the Doctor chained to the bed, but that’s all.”
“I’m trying to think of a witty comment that is also salacious and as charming as I usually am, but I’m at a loss.”
Rose almost laughed but the sound choked out, caught in her throat, raw and vicious. She bit her lip so she didn’t break down and gulped in the fresh air of the banana groves. “Did he have a heart—oh.”
No, he hadn’t a heart attack. She didn’t need light to feel the slick stickiness under her fingers. She swallowed, twice, and cleared her throat. Once Rose knew she wouldn’t cry or scream, she asked calmly, “How many times was he shot?”
“Three.” Jack’s words were clipped, not in anger, well not directed toward her. “Two are through and through, one doesn’t look like any sort of projectile. Then again, we are at the Villengard groves. Still, this doesn’t look sonic, either.”
“Stupid man,” Rose whispered and pressed her trembling lips to his cheek. “Don’t die on me because you wanted banana, yeah?” She straightened, clenching her teeth against the moan of pain the movement caused, and looked at Jack in the inky darkness. “Where’s the sonic blast?”
“Right hip, took a good chunk of his trousers away with it.”
Again no innuendo which scared Rose more than the Doctor lying deathly still. Well, almost scared her more. Right then she didn’t think being more scared was possible. Not with her heart thudding painfully in her chest and her lungs too constricted to do more than gasp shallow breaths.
“Did you find his jacket?” she demanded. “With the sonic?”
“Yeah. At his feet.” Jack didn’t move and the fact he couldn’t restart the Doctor’s right heart only added to the numbing terror Rose felt.
She scrambled across the wooden cart—which was odd, now that she thought about it, and who was driving the cart, anyway?—to the rear where the jacket and sonic lay. Her arm protested and the scratches tore open again. She felt the blood seep through her blouse but didn’t care.
Her Doctor was far more important.
“Why didn’t you try it first?” she demanded, gasping as she forced her body back to her original position bedside the Doctor.
“Little busy making sure neither of you died.”
“Yeah.” Rose winced and held the sonic up, on handed, in the minimal light. “Sorry. Remind me to thank you later.”
“Will I get a kiss?” Jack asked and his suggestive tone eased one of the iron bands around Rose’s chest.
“Two,” she promised. “One from each of us.”
Jack snorted and finally let out a yelp of victory. Rose didn’t ask, she didn’t need to—the Doctor’s right heart had restarted. She felt it as clearly as if her own heart restarted. Hmm, wistful thinking? Eh, she’d worry about her imagination, or wistful thinking, later.
“You said the shoulder wounds were through and through?” Her voice only shook a little. She aimed the sonic on his left shoulder to at least cauterize the wound. No time for much else.
“Here,” Jack said gently and wrapped his hand around hers. “I’ll do it, Rosie. You sit back and rest. I’ll look at your scratches in a minute, yeah?”
“Jack.” Her voice broke but Rose let Jack take the sonic and finish the one shoulder before moving to the next.
“What setting is it for burns?” he asked in that same even tone that did a little, at least, to stop her trembling hands.
Rose looked up. She’d moved closer to the Doctor, holding his hand in her injured one and stroking his face with her good hand. “What?” she asked. How long had she sat like this? Did it matter?
“Burns?” Jack repeated from somewhere around the Doctor’s hip. “Sonic setting for burns?”
“Oh. It’s more a diagnostic tool than medical,” she admitted and the words burnt her throat. “Try setting, um…32? No. I think it’s 321-D, that should stop the bleeding at least.”
Jack cursed again and flicked through the appropriate settings. “Remind me to yell at him later for his,” he said. “And--”
“Rose?”
“Doctor.” She didn’t know if she said the word or thought it or if he even heard it in the creaking cart and over the wind.
“Rose,” he repeated.
“I’m here,” she said and pressed her lips to his forehead. “I’m here, Doctor.”
He grunted and squeezed her hand. “Told you I’d get you out.”
She laughed, or maybe sobbed, and squeezed his hand tighter. “Thank you, Doctor.”
“Hey,” Jack said, sounding far more tired now than Rose remembered. Or maybe that was her brain, slowing down and sluggish. “What am I, then?”
Rose reached out for him and took his hand. “Thank you, Jack. We owe you.”
“You owe me a kiss,” he reminded her but there was no heat behind it. “Actually,” he said far more awake than he sounded a moment ago, “you do, too, Doctor.”
“Not until you buy me a drink,” the Doctor shot back. It sounded weak but at least they were all back on solid ground.
The cart rocked precariously—if not even ground.
“I can arrange that,” Jack said but she heard him scramble for the front of the carriage. She still had no idea who drove it. Or if it had a driver or ran on a computer. “After we get back to the TARDIS.”
“Yes, please,” Rose said and once more settled herself over the Doctor. She tried to be careful of his wounds and hers, but her entire body burned. Unfortunately it was with pain not with desire. Pity that.
Jack choked out a laugh. Damn.
“Did I say that aloud?”
“Go to sleep, Rose,” the Doctor said. Once more she thought he brushed his lips over the top of her head. “We’ll be off Hjem soon.”
“Hjem,” she repeated “That’s where we are.”
“Go to sleep, Rose,” the Doctor repeated. “I’ll be here when you wake.”
“I will be, too,” Jack called from the front of the cart, “if anyone cares.”