mtemplar_fic: (Ten II/Rose b&w)
[personal profile] mtemplar_fic
Title: Contagion
Author: [livejournal.com profile] mtemplar
Rating: Adult
Characters: The Doctor (Duplicate Tenth), Rose Tyler, various Torchwood characters, OCs.
Disclaimer: I do not own 'Doctor Who' and am making no profit from this fanfiction.
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Graphic Sex, Graphic Violence, NON-CON element.
Spoilers: Journey's End, if you haven't seen it by now. :)
Author's Notes: This story follows the end of the 'Moments' series. It isn't necessary for you to have read that series of shorts to enjoy this tale, but if you're interested, here's a link to the timeline: http://mtemplar-fic.livejournal.com/99788.html
Betas: Many, many thanks to [livejournal.com profile] garpu for giving this the once-over!

Summary: A rash of disappearances in Pete's World leads Rose's Torchwood team to an encounter with dangerous alien foes... and they've set their sights on one half-Human Time Lord. This time, the Doctor may be in way over his head - will Rose be dragged down with him?

Previous Chapters: Prologue, One



Chapter Two

After a while, Ianto returned, shutting the door carefully behind him. He sat down opposite the Doctor with a weary sigh, handing him an illegible prescription.

"So... " the Doctor began, wondering what would be the best way to bring up the fact that there were kidnapping aliens that looked a bit on the insectoid side loose on the streets. "Did you happen to get a good look at them?"

Ianto rubbed the bridge of his nose tiredly. "Unfortunately, no. It was fairly dark and they were wearing cloaks. Why?"

"They were alien. Can't quite place the species, but they were most definitely alien. I know Torchwood likes to 'handle' these things, but I really think I should try to find them and talk to them. Especially if they're connected to the disappearances. Maybe we can get some of the missing back alive -"

"That's against all protocol, sir," Ianto interrupted, frowning. "I can't let you do that."

The Doctor snorted. "Not all aliens are hostile, and you have missing people. I have to try -"

A sudden loud knock on the door made them both jump. A second later, the door burst open, revealing one very angry-looking Rose Tyler. The Doctor paled.

"Doctor! Are you all right? What happened?" Rose demanded loudly as she hurried to the Doctor's side in obvious worry. Each clang from her heeled boots resounded in the Doctor's head like a gong, and he did his best not to cringe.

"Rose, I'm fine," he insisted. "It's just a little concussion."

"Just a concussion? Just a little concussion?" she chastised, her voice rising. "What the hell happened?"

"He did most likely save another young girl from being abducted, ma'am," Ianto helpfully interjected. Rose rounded on him, eyes blazing.

"He could have been taken as well! Or killed!"

"Rose, I'm all right," the Doctor said sheepishly. "I'm sorry."

She wheeled on him, jabbing a finger into his chest as he flinched backward. "You tell me everything that happened right now."

The Doctor settled himself in for another long interrogation, to be followed no doubt by an equally long lecture. Ianto shot him a sympathetic look before edging out the door.

As he recanted to Rose what had happened, he had a sinking feeling that there was no way Torchwood would be leaving this one alone. Resigning himself to the inevitable, he sighed heavily. He'd get to the bottom of this, even if he had to dodge Torchwood agents to do it.

***************

The Doctor woke blearily the next morning, and it took him a few moments to figure out where he was and why. He flailed a sleep-sluggish arm out to grab Rose's pillow, dragging it under his blankets and inhaling deeply. He understood that he'd needed to be roused every few hours last night because of the concussion, but now that he could hear Jackie Tyler's shrill voice in the kitchens below, he was starting to seriously question his decision to sleep in Rose's bed. He'd never slept in her bed before - in fact, the one and only time they'd slept together had been in his bed, and speaking of Rose, where was she?

The object of his thoughts suddenly appeared, barging into the room bearing a tray loaded with toast and tea. He groaned heavily, thinking the need to sleep had to be one of the worst inventions ever, and couldn't she have given him just five more minutes?

"Morning, sunshine!" Rose said, loudly enough to startle him out of his contemplation-induced stupor. Balancing the tray on her hip, she kicked the door shut behind her as the Doctor tried vainly to shove his head under a pillow. He made a charming picture, she thought, all rumpled and sleep-mussed, with his hair sticking up this way and that, completely domestic. Something she'd never seen with his counterpart. He wore his usual t-shirt and pajama bottoms, certainly guaranteeing her easy access. Were it not for his head injury the night before and the presence of her mother nearby, she would have given serious consideration to entertaining her contemplations during the night of jumping him right then and there. As if reading her thoughts, he groaned loudly into the pillow.

"C'mon, some hot tea will help you feel better," she cajoled. "Here, let me help you." She set down the tray on her nightstand, trying not to think about what might have happened to him last night had Ianto Jones not been following him.

The Doctor grumbled to himself before sitting up and stretching gingerly. "Y'know, you're far too cheerful for having been up all night," he growled.

Rose fluffed the pillows behind him and handed him his cup when he was settled. "Coffee works wonders," she said, grinning at the face he pulled. "Want some toast?"

"Sure," he said, taking a tentative sip of his tea. "Have any marmalade?"

Rose smiled. "Of course." She set a plate of generously buttered slices of toast in his lap, and carefully climbed onto the foot of the bed, marmalade in hand. As the Doctor ate, they speculated.

"So you're sure we're dealing with aliens and not some crazy serial killer? I mean, all the autopsies Owen's done on the bodies that've turned up have indicated the victims all died of blood loss - you don't think we're dealing with vampire aliens, do you?"

"Don't know just yet," the Doctor replied around a mouthful of toast. "And they're most likely not vampires. Just because someone's died from blood loss doesn't mean they were killed by a vampire."

"You didn't see the body I saw the other day," Rose mumbled.

"No, I didn't," the Doctor agreed. "Maybe that's where I should start. I need to know more about the victims and the situation first. Then I need all of the newspapers from the date people first started going missing, any cctv footage from around the general area -"

"Oh no you don't," Rose admonished, shaking a finger at him. "Owen told you to rest, and my mum is going to make sure that you do. Torchwood can handle this."

"Oh please," the Doctor snapped. "I can take care of myself. And Torchwood's had this case for how long without making any progress?"

"Don't be so stubborn," Rose said, setting aside the Doctor's now empty plate. She sighed, rolling her eyes as he jammed his fingers into the marmalade jar, withdrawing them to lick his sticky fingers clean. "Tell you what," she said after a moment's pause. "I'd be happy to bring you the autopsy reports and newspapers if you promise to stay put. Just for today?"

He paused mid-lick. "I'm starting to think you want to keep me here just to torment me."

Rose grinned. "I'd say you've got it the wrong way round, mate. You're no fun to deal with when you're sick or hurt - you just get cranky."

The Doctor grumbled and handed Rose the jar. "I do not get cranky. How about helping me make a list of what I need you to get for me?"

"Later. First things first - where'd you put your prescription Owen wrote you last night?"

"I don't need it. If I'm doped up on painkillers, I'll never get to the bottom of this," the Doctor said with a sigh. His head didn't hurt acutely anymore, rather it felt more like a constant, dull throbbing that made him feel tired and irritable, but it was bearable.

"Still, you should have it just in case."

The Doctor looked up into the worried gaze Rose fixed on him and sighed. "Fine - it's in my jacket pocket, you big bully."

"Somebody has to take care of you," Rose said, smiling gently as she retrieved his prescription. "Why don't you get some more sleep? I'll tell my mum to check on you in a few hours. I'll get some work done, and pick up your medicine for you. We'll work on your list this afternoon."

"Fine," the Doctor muttered, scowling as Rose planted a kiss on his forehead before turning to leave, shutting the door behind her with a soft click. He flopped back down in the bed for a while, but didn't feel particularly tired. Maybe a hot shower would help soothe his aching muscles....

***************

After giving long and detailed instructions to her mother about keeping an eye on the Doctor, Rose set the empty tray down on the kitchen counter for the staff to clear away, and glanced at her watch. The driver who would be taking her into the Torchwood offices would be arriving shortly. She threw her bag over her shoulder and actually made it to the side door before realizing she'd forgotten her mobile. She vaguely recalled setting it down on the counter in her bathroom, forgetting to charge it in the previous evening's excitement. She quickly ran back into the house and jogged up the stairs, her boots tapping smartly on the wooden treads as she ascended.

It was quiet in the hallway, and she began to tip-toe, assuming the Doctor had drifted off to sleep again. She reached the bathroom door adjacent to her bedroom, quietly pushed it open, and....

Was confronted by a startled pair of chocolate brown eyes, framed by damp, strangely flat hair staring back at her from the partially wiped mirror. She and a half-naked Doctor both froze in place, the Doctor still facing the sink with his hands poised over a small scrape on his cheek. The position afforded Rose a very good look at his bare back - an ugly purple-black bruise stretched across his shoulder blades, and Rose swallowed. Whatever had attacked the Doctor in that darkened alley the night before had certainly done a number on him.

"Um...." The Doctor shifted nervously, hands moving to the knot of the towel tucked around his waist. "Did you need something, Rose?"

Well, I'll be damned, Rose thought. He was blushing.

She coughed pointedly and tore her eyes away from the slight curve of his buttocks beneath white terry. "Sorry, didn't mean to intrude. I just need to grab my mobile."

Muttering something about how they should really stop meeting like this that Rose didn't quite catch, the Doctor shied away from her toward the large clawfoot tub to make room for her to pass. Rose quickly grabbed her phone from the counter.

"Try to get some rest while I'm gone," she said, more to fill the awkward silence than anything else.

"Understood," the Doctor replied, an odd inflection in his voice making Rose wonder if he really did need that prescription after all. He looked down at his bare toes before looking shyly back at her. "See you later?" he added, a hopeful tone in his voice.

"Yeah," she said, trying to place the emotion she saw in his expressive eyes. "See you later."

Fifteen minutes later, Rose was ensconced in the back seat of a chauffeured car with Pete Tyler, Head of the Torchwood Institute, and substitute father. Normally, she spent a few moments each morning during the commute reflecting on the surreal nature of her family situation, but not this morning. Rose was getting frustrated. Strike that - she was frustrated. It was one thing to stay awake all night to keep a protective eye on an injured half-Human Time Lord sleeping platonically in her bed with her, and it was quite another to be confronted with an alert, barely-clothed, dripping, altogether very appealing version. Despite his injuries, she'd been entranced by the expanse of bare skin she'd seen. And that surprised, over-the-shoulder glance with his wet, disheveled fringe hanging just so over his chocolate brown eyes....

Yeah. Speaking of frustration. Not to mention the fact that it was undeniably weird and uncomfortable to be thinking and fantasizing about these kinds of things while in a car with Pete headed into work.

As if he could read her mind, Pete suddenly looked up from his mobile and smiled uncertainly at her. "Jacks said you were up late last night. Penny for your thoughts?"

Rose groaned and slouched down in her seat in a vain attempt to avoid Pete's amused grin.

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