Doctor Who: Cold

Chapter 2

Thanks goes to TuiYLa, without whom this chapter would probably never have been written.

Songs used are Def Leppard's "Desert Song", "Fractured Love", and "Armageddon It"; Pat Benatar's "Walking in the Underground"; and Billie Piper's "Day and Night". Like in the first chapter, the ending verses are from Def Leppard's "Blood Runs Cold." I'm also working on a third chapter for this, but that third chapter will be the last one.

He didn't care.

The Doctor found that he really didn't care that he might have hurt her as he sat outside Rose's room, back against the wall, and listened to her soft crying.

He'd only been enjoying what was his. She had, too—her body had, at least. He'd smelled her arousal, felt her heated flesh, relished the taste of her juices as he sucked them from his fingers.

Already he knew that having her once wouldn't be enough—it never could be enough. Just once and he was hooked on her: his obsession, his drug.

If the Time Lords could see him now . . . Well, there was a reason he'd been exiled, a reason his own people called him the Bringer of Darkness, the Oncoming Storm. (Technically, that was the Daleks, but the name still applied.)

Gradually, he became aware that the sounds of crying had been replaced with running water. He considered joining her, and a smirk played around his lips at the thought. Even now he was still half-hard, and his mental image of a glistening wet Rose wasn't helping matters.

As quickly as the thought entered his mind, he dismissed it. No, he would resort to his old pattern of letting her think everything back to normal—as normal as it ever was with them—before he claimed her again. He'd done it before he'd taken her, after all.

If he wanted, he could easily alter her memories so that she'd consented.

Or not. The Doctor wasn't human, and maybe it was time Rose was reminded of that.

A cold smile quirked on his lips. He rose to his feet, made his way to his bedroom.

He needed more clothes than the robe he was currently wearing if he was to convince Rose that this had just been a nightmare, after all.

-oOo-

Rose stepped under the shower spray, forced the muscles in her body to relax as the heat stung her skin. The water was so hot it felt like fire.

Purifying fire.

She needed to feel clean.

Rose scrubbed at her body until her skin felt raw, but even that wasn't enough. So she slid down the wall, pulled her knees up to her chest, and buried her face in the little ball she'd created, letting the hot water wash over her until she couldn't see through the surrounding steam.

That was okay. She didn't want to. If it fogged up enough, maybe he wouldn't find her.

Her eye stung, but they were so dry there were no more tears left to cry.

Surely she would wake up to find this had just been a dream.

The Doctor she'd known would never have . . .

Raped me, she silently finished.

That couldn't have been him. It just couldn't. Even in his old body he wouldn't have forced himself on her.

Wouldn't he? a little voice in her head piped up.

She closed her eyes, shook her head.

Rose may have been in there for minutes or an hour; eventually she shut off the water, roughly toweled herself off, and—not knowing what else to do—slipped into pajamas and curled up in bed. It took fifteen minutes for her to fall into a fitful sleep.