CALL HIM JOHNNY

Chapter 3:Revels

Disclaimer: Erm I think Revels belong to Mars. Everything else belongs to RTD.

Author's Note: Ooh gosh; this is long! I do apologise, though and I hope it's worth it! It wouldn't condense into two parts, sadly. This is my return to Fanfic after my exams; I have a bit of a break before my next ones so I thought I'd update :) Let me know what you think. Thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed :)

" So, the Doctors think she collapsed?"

" Yeah. They're blaming her heavy workload, stress…grief, even a mild case of schizophrenia. Bloody idiots, the lot of them! The only Doctor I'd trust Rose's head with is a skinny bloke in a suit and trainers."

" You think she's telling the truth, then?"

" If Rose says she heard the Doctor, then I believe her. She's never been wrong before, Mickey."

" I know it's just…it's obvious that she still misses him. What if it's just…wishful thinking?"

" Oh, and wishful thinking would perforate both her eardrums, cause her to bring up blood and knock her unconscious, would it?"

" No. Sorry. It's just…I don't understand how the Doctor would be able to talk to her. I mean, yeah, telepathy seems most likely…but would it work across the Void? Our world's too far out of range even for Rose's Superphone…"

" He's not an ordinary man."

" Pete, Telepathy shouldn't work! The first thing you did when you took over Torchwood was making Telepathy and the use of Psychic energy illegal!

" Yeah, I'm aware of that, funnily enough."

" You're not going to arrest her, are you?"

" Course I'm not going to arrest her; she's my daughter!"

" What did he say to her?"

" I don't know. She can't remember."

" Then what was the point? What was the point in talking to her and nearly bloody killing her in the process, if she can't remember what he said? She'll just get her hopes built up all over again…"

" That's what I'm worried about."

" What was he thinking? Using Psychic energy or telepathy or…whatever on her; he should have known it would hurt her!"

" You seriously think that the Doctor's capable of intentionally hurting Rose?"

" Just look at what he's done to her! This morning she was kicking the arse off Torchwood Paris, now she's lying here half-dead!"

Rose lay awake listening to Pete and Mickey's quiet conversation with her eyes squeezed tightly shut. She felt stiff and disorientated, as if she'd been asleep for a long time. She was aware that she was lying flat on her back, tucked up in crisp, stiff sheets and that she'd never felt this comfortable in a long, long time. Though her head no longer hurt, she still felt extremely groggy; it seemed to take a long time for her brain to register what Mickey and Pete were saying. Her eyelids felt too heavy for her to open, her mouth felt like it had been stuffed with sawdust and her body ached as if she'd just recovered from a nasty bout of flu. Vaguely, she could recall short, disjointed snapshots from today; a stuffy meeting room; a redhead giving her an umbrella; a bunch of dead roses; hearing the Doctor; running in the rain…The last thing she could remember was sitting on the floor of a too-bright, clammy corridor with Pete on one side and Dr. Martha Jones on the other. How had she got here? Had she fainted?

Slowly, she opened her eyes and looked around. She was in a small hospital room with amber strip lights pressed into a bleak, white tiled ceiling. The walls were a creamy brown colour, like stale cappuccino; beside her bed were two uncomfortable-looking grey hard-back chairs, like the sort she'd used at school, and sitting in those chairs were a very worried, uncertain Pete and Mickey.

" Half dead or not, I bet I could still kick your arse, Mr. Mickey," muttered Rose with a watery smile; causing both Pete and Mickey to jump, as neither had noticed she was awake.

" Rose!" they said together, both sounding thoroughly relieved. Pete leant forwards and took her hand, squeezing it gently, whereas Mickey buried his face in his hands, weakly.

" How are you feeling?" asked Pete, his eyes raking over her face; the picture of parental concern.

" Better," said Rose, truthfully, " What happened?"

" You fainted, Rose, after talking to the Doctor. I found you lying in the corridor; you woke up briefly and spoke to me, then fainted again. C'mon Rose, there's a time and a place for sleeping on the job," he joked feebly.

Rose felt herself pale, looking into Pete's face, which was grey and fatigued. Years of stress and worry had turned him into an old man; her collapsing could not have helped. She felt immensely guilty for giving him something else to worry about, but she knew that he would be offended if she attempted to apologize. The one thing she wanted, needed to know was that the Doctor had been there; she hadn't made him up, and Pete would tell her honestly, even if it hurt her he would tell her the truth.

" I didn't imagine him?" she whispered.

Mickey looked unconvinced but Pete shook his head fervently.

" No, I'm sure you didn't. There's so much residual Psychic energy in the corridor…I sent out a Code Red to the staff and Adeola's heading a team that's investigating communication across parallel borders. Her brief's due any minute now."

Pete clasped his hands together and rested his chin on them, surveying Rose carefully, as if he were in two minds whether to tell her something or not. He looked at Mickey; not for encouragement, but perhaps to gauge his reaction. Mickey's mouth set in a hard line and he fumed at the wall, avoiding Rose's eyes.

" Rose, your brain scan shows telepathic strain," he said quietly, getting straight to the point. That was the thing with Pete; he didn't mince around with his words; didn't waste time building his part up; he was blunt and concise.

" Is that bad?" asked Rose, thickly, sounding as if she had a stuffy nose; already knowing the answer from Pete's clenched, shaking hands.

Pete grimaced. " It's not good, Rose. He could have killed you."

With difficulty, Rose managed to sit up in bed, her back and shoulders contracting painfully at the movement. Still, the cool, fierce expression on her face as she glared from Pete to Mickey was enough to make Pete recoil slightly.

Somebody, (a nurse probably) had scrubbed off her make-up and scraped her hair back into a loose knot. The result was that she looked a lot younger; much more fragile and vulnerable. Still, the look on her face was so much like Jackie's when she was in a bad temper; it was uncanny.

" He never would," she told him, such quiet fury layered into her words that the room seemed to fizzle with tension. " He couldn't. He told me that the connection was killing me and that I had to break it. I wouldn't," she finished softly, staring down at the milk spots on her nails. " So if I'm half-dead it's my own fault, not his coz I wouldn't listen to him."

Pete gaped at her; evidently disturbed at the toneless, almost careless way she'd told him that she'd nearly killed herself. And didn't seem to mind.

" Rose," he began, his voice shaking. " It's alright…" He was about as convincing as one of Harriet Jones' speeches on Education; full of empty reassurances. Clearly, he was more upset than he wanted to let on.

" No, it's not," she argued, fiddling with her sheets, folding the corners over and over, then smoothing them out again. " He told me I was dying and I didn't care. I think," here Rose's voice cracked and her hands stilled, " I think…I probably wanted to but I dunno…he saved me. He must've broken it."

Rose looked up at Pete wearily, a single tear rolling down her cheek. She was terrified. Literally terrified. Scared of what she was capable of feeling. It was true; if the connection hadn't broken she would have died and she wouldn't have minded…at the time. Now, the thought that she'd been so ready to just give it all up, to let go, to die; it chilled her to the very core. She never thought she'd be capable of actually wanting her life to end…

" I'm scared, Dad," she said in a small, timid voice, sounding so very frightened. Gingerly, she opened her arms, silently begging for him to hold her and hug her tightly. He obliged instantly. Without saying a word, his chair scraping noisily against the floor, he perched himself on the edge of her bed and let her wrap her arms around his neck, breathing in the familiar scent of her perfume that always made him feel warm and happy, that reminded him that he had a family; unconventional though they sometimes were.

" You don't have to be," he muttered into her hair. " I know it's not the same…I know I haven't got a blue box and a sonic…whatever but you've still got me."

" I know," said Rose, sniffing as she rubbed his back, " That's enough,"

She pulled away, wiping her eyes on the backs of her hands. " Love you," she told him, trying to keep her voice cheery.

" Good," smiled Pete, giving her a wink, " Love you too."

They looked up in alarm, as there was a loud rap at the door, breaking their moment. Dr. Martha Jones breezed in smartly, smiling when she saw that Rose was awake.

" Evening, Rose. How's your head?" she asked, placing a gentle hand that smelt of antibacterial hand wash on her forehead. " No temperature…still," she examined Rose's notes hanging above her bed with raised eyebrows, " We're going to keep you in overnight to keep an eye on you."

Rose gave a small sigh and shot Martha an impatient look. " I don't need," she began to grumble.

" Yes you do," chimed Pete, Mickey and Martha together.

The three of them exchanged awkward smiles as Rose sat there feeling very put out. She'd realised that she probably would have to stay overnight; as lovely as Martha seemed, there was something about her that told her she wasn't someone she wanted to argue with. The Doctor had been like that. Funny, charming, excitable and good-natured on a good day but when he was faced with something he didn't agree with…Rose shivered in spite of her blankets. She wouldn't want to argue with him either; when he was angry he'd get this dangerous glint in his eye and fury would course through him, he'd radiate rage, showing for the world to see just why he was called the Oncoming Storm. He was frightening; he even managed to scare her…Still there was no need to treat her like an invalid.

" Right," Martha looked from Pete to Rose, her shoulders stiffening. She looked distinctly uncomfortable about something. " Dr. Oshodi is outside; she wants to speak to Miss Tyler. Would you like me to bring her in?"

At Pete's nod, Martha bit her lip and crossed to the door, opening it to reveal a pretty, black woman with dark eyes and a thick, blunt fringe, dressed in a cream trouser suit; Adeola Oshodi. A woman Rose knew by sight more than anything else; Adeola was Head of Scientific Research, whereas Rose worked on the front line, so to speak and Torchwood's departments tended to keep themselves to themselves. They sometimes crossed paths in the Torchwood canteen, in the Deli queue but the most they had ever said to each other was 'Hello' and ' No really, you go before me.' Rose knew that Adeola was generally acknowledged as one of the most influential officers Torchwood had ever employed, that she expected an extremely high standard from her staff and that she was brilliantly clever but…she wasn't sure if she was comfortable with talking to her about the Doctor; not when she barely even spoke about the Doctor to her mum. Her life with and her feelings for the Doctor was something she liked to keep private. When she'd first started working for Torchwood, all those months ago, all anyone knew was that she was Pete's daughter and had been traveling the world for the past couple of years with a few mates. It wasn't a huge lie…it was definitely easier than telling the truth because; A) who in their right mind would believe her? B) Most of the Torchwood workers had joined after Pete had taken over and so didn't really know about the Doctor, and even those left over from the old regime thought he was Enemy Number One. Accidentally on purpose, Rose had removed all major files concerning the Doctor from Torchwood's database. Now though, it looked as if she'd finally have to tell the truth about the Doctor. If Adeola was as brilliant as everyone said she was maybe…just maybe she might be able to help get in touch with him again.

" Dr. Jones," said Adeola politely, as she entered the room, giving her a smile that didn't quite reach the dark pools of her eyes.

" Dr. Oshodi," nodded Martha, just as coolly as Adeola pulled up a chair on the other side of Rose's bed, facing Pete and Mickey, placing her bag on the floor and pulling out a thick red file, covered in post-it note's with many coloured index cards poking out of the edges.

" You've got ten minutes," Martha told her shortly. " Torchwood or not, she needs to rest."

" Thank you, Doctor," said Adeola rather pointedly. She and Martha looked at each other; each one seemed to be biting their tongue. Rose noticed that both of them were nervously intertwining their fingers together. Actually, now she was looking at them both together…the similarities between them were striking. They had the same eyes, the same chin, though Adeola's forehead was slightly higher than Martha's; they could have been sisters. With one last unreadable glance at Adeola and a reassuring smile at Rose, Martha left the room, reaching for her pager.

There was a small silence, as Adeola looked down at her file and Rose exchanged a confused glance with Pete and Mickey. Pete looked just as perturbed as she did, whereas Mickey was unashamedly staring at the door Martha had just walked out of.

Adeola cleared her throat nervously.

" I'm Dr. Adeola Oshodi," she said, giving Rose a genuine smile and offering her a slightly clammy hand.

" Rose Tyler."

" You've dropped the 'Dame' then?" Adeola replied dryly.

Rose's smile faltered. How did Adeola know that she'd been made a Dame? She hadn't really told anyone…had she?

Noticing that Rose's face had fallen, Adeola hurried on.

" The Doctor's were just saying you were extremely confused and disorientated when you came round," she said quickly, giving her a reassuring smile. " I believe a Dr. Harper suggested that you should be sedated," she said wryly, looking apologetic as Pete made a noise like an angry cat and Rose blinked and pulled on her ear uncomfortably. " But you're in good hands with Dr. Jones," she said firmly, " She's an excellent Doctor."

Rose blushed, as Adeola caught her raising her eyebrows at Pete, surprised that Adeola had spoken so highly of Martha, when the bad feeling between them had been unmistakable.

" Dr. Jones is my cousin," said Adeola, pursing her lips. " Though we don't see eye to eye on a lot of things." She brushed her fringe out of her eyes before continuing, "Torchwood being one of them."

" Why?" blurted Mickey, without thinking. Rose shot him a dirty look and Pete kicked his chair, though Adeola didn't seem to bat an eyelid.

" Shortly after the disaster with the Cybermen last year Torchwood pressed charges against her boyfriend at my orders, for selling salvaged cyber-converters. Ended up killing two children," she explained, darkly, shaking her head at the thought; her eyes sad.

" Ohh yeah, that Jimmy Stones guy?" asked Pete casually, screwing up his face as he struggled to remember.

" GOOD!" shrieked Rose, looking seriously shaken at the same time as Mickey shouted, " WHAT?"

Pete and Adeola looked taken aback at Rose and Mickey's shared expressions of fury.

" Tell me he's in prison?" demanded Mickey, leaping to his feet, glaring down at Adeola.

" Ye-yes," she said, looking dumbfounded, " What has that go to do with…"

" Ex-boyfriend," explained Rose, who had gone very pale, but had stretched a placatory hand out to Mickey to get him to sit back down and giving Pete an 'I'll-tell-you-later' look.

" Poor you. Anyway…she still hasn't forgiven me," said Adeola matter-of-factly, raising her eyes to the ceiling. If she felt at all uneasy about telling her family affairs to a room full of strangers she didn't show it. Rose however, felt distinctly uncomfortable; as if she were hearing things that she wasn't supposed to. She went back to fidgeting with her sheet, finding the feel of the soft cotton running through her fingers oddly soothing.

" So," said Adeola, finally, opening the file with a winning smile, " I've been studying your brain activity, Rose."

"And?" asked Rose sharply. She wasn't sure she liked the look of Adeola's smile; it seemed too wide, showed too much gleaming white teeth, reminding her of the Barbie dolls she used to love so much when she was younger.

Adeola raised her eyebrows at Rose's guarded expression.

"Well, it seems that you are quite extraordinary. I've never seen anything like it," admitted Adeola, unfolding an A3 sheet of paper covered in graphs and charts. " Your brain activity is off the scale…no human should be capable of retaining so much psychic energy." She shook her head, looking at Rose half fearfully, half admiringly.

"You trying to say she's not human?" said Pete dangerously, his eyes narrowed.

"No! That's not what I'm saying at all," Adeola assured him quickly. "But Rose, your white blood cells are unbelievable…I ran the test six times to make sure there were no anomalies…" she trailed off, looking at Rose apprehensively. Her clear-cut voice, with just a hint of a Cockney twang suddenly seemed very loud in the silent room.

Rose stared at her, lips parted, not able to take her eyes off her. If anyone could work out her past…what she'd done what she'd seen; it was this woman. Being found out was one of her worst fears. Not because she felt guilty or because she had something to hide, of course not. But ever since the Battle of Canary Wharf she'd built up a new identity; no one knew what she'd been like before, it had been so easy to push her past behind a smokescreen and pretend that she was the person she wanted to be rather than the person she actually was. Then again, she didn't know what she wanted anymore; she didn't know where she wanted to take her career, whether she wanted to live on her own, whether she wanted brown bread or white…all she wanted was the Doctor. Just him. But it was unlikely that she was ever to get him back. Not unless Adeola could help her, and in order to help, Adeola would have to know the full story. Rose wasn't sure she wanted this woman to know about her. It would mean surrendering every heartbroken secret and wishful fantasy over to her and that made Rose feel terribly vulnerable.

"Look," said Adeola quietly, brushing Rose's hand with hers. "I don't need to know your life story, alright? Just clarify one thing. I promise I'll believe anything you tell me if you say it's true-goodness knows, Rose, I've seen enough out of the ordinary things in this job to know that I can't afford to be cynical. Just tell me," she urged her, almost pleadingly. " Your white blood cells show that you've traveled through the Vortex…that you've traveled through time and space…"

Rose looked up at Adeola's earnest face, her dark eyes shining with anticipation, were watching her as if she expected her to spring from her bed, flag down a silver spaceship and whiz off around the universe, and then at Pete and Mickey, who both looked astounded, gaping at Adeola like a pair of fish.

"What do you want me to say?" asked Rose carefully, conscious of keeping her face blank.

"Have you?" asked Adeola simply.

Rose swallowed. For once, she couldn't think of a single thing to say to defend herself. What would be the point in lying?

"Yes, I have," replied Rose, stoutly, curious to see what Adeola's reaction would be.

Adeola stared at her for a few seconds, but to her credit, seemed to recover from the initial shock far quicker than anyone ever had previously. It was as if Rose had simply told her that she'd been on a bus.

"With a man called the Doctor?" said Adeola with a slight smirk, a look of self-satisfaction crossing her features.

"What?" asked Rose sharply, a shock of panic coursing through her, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end, a feeling of rotten nausea gnawing in the pit of her stomach. How? How did she…?

"Oh, there's no need to look so surprised Rose," she said, a little patronizingly. "You're brilliant, there's no doubt about that but you're not exactly an ICT genius, are you? The files you wiped on the Doctor weren't very hard to retrieve. You were pictured with him the night of the fall of the Cybus Regime."

Adeola gazed round at Rose, Pete and Mickey like a malevolent journalist having made a particularly exclusive scoop.

"But it didn't say anything about you traveling through time and space," she continued, shaking her head in a bemused manner.

Rose opened her mouth furiously, ready to snipe back with several Doctor-like retorts, dripping in his witty rudeness but Pete got there first.

"Dr. Oshodi, I called you in to find out how a suspected telepathic connection came to be formed between Rose and an undisclosed source, and whether it would be possible to re-create it; not dig up her past as if she were some scandal-ridden politician. If I'd wanted that I'd have called the mindless bimbos who push pens round for The Sun," Pete chastised her, as a strict Headmaster would tell off an under-achieving pupil. "Can I ask that you please just do your job?"

"Yes sir," said Adeola, going slightly pink. " My apologies," she said quietly, to Rose, and having the good grace to look ashamed of herself. " Forgive me, but your travels through the Vortex could be relevant; they could at least contribute to the reasons why you were able to form some sort of connection with this…Doctor man."

Rose frowned, desperately trying to follow what Adeola was saying. So…her ability to travel through time was what had made it possible to talk to the Doctor? Surely that couldn't be right? It had to be infinitely more complicated than that or else the Doctor wouldn't have said it was impossible; it wouldn't have taken nine months for them to contact each other…surely?

"You're saying that it's because I've traveled in time that the Doctor could speak to me?" Rose asked, disbelievingly.

Adeola shook her head, patiently. "No; your time travels wouldn't have much effect across the Void, but they do make a connection more…more likely."

" I don't understand," said Rose, dolefully, looking at Pete and Mickey, who seemed just as nonplussed.

Adeola sighed softly, and shifted her chair forwards so that her knees were almost touching the side of Rose's bed. "Look," she began, with the air of someone struggling to explain something very complicated in the simplest terms possible. "If a group of men were to be dumped in a foreign place and told to find their way back home without a map, they'd struggle wouldn't they?"

"Yes," agreed Rose, readily, determined to follow her.

" But I don't know…say one of the men had already been there before; just once, he'd have more of a chance than the others, would he not? Yes, he'd still find it really difficult but he'd have more of an advantage, yeah?"

"Yeah," said Rose, rubbing a hand over her face, a dull ache beginning to form yet again behind her temples, such was the intensity of her concentration. "So, my traveling with him only makes the connection more likely? It doesn't explain it?"

"That's exactly it!" confirmed Adeola passionately, another wide smile lighting up her face, her eyes crinkling. "Your time travels have increased your telepathic potential, certainly. That doesn't surprise me; you have more psychic ability than me, or anybody else I've ever seen, and I've been trained," she said dryly. "But regardless of your abilities, telepathy still shouldn't work. Just two months after he took control of Torchwood, your dad launched a satellite to block the transmission of Psychic energy," here Adeola nodded respectfully at Pete, who acknowledged her nod with a slight lift of his eyebrows and a small smile at Rose. "What's more, it definitely shouldn't work across the Void," finished Adeola with conviction, slapping her file against her knee to emphasize her frustration.

"Hang on a sec," said Rose suspiciously, her ears pricking up. "How do you know it was across the Void? I didn't tell you about the Void."

Adeola raised her eyebrows at her quizzically. " Rose, my dissertation was on the Void; I know more about the Void than anyone else on this planet…"

"Oh, well done, you," muttered Rose under her breath, trying not to roll her eyes at her blatant lack of modesty.

"And I recognised Void interference from the samples of Psychic energy taken from the corridor; you can tell when something's been through the Void, you know? It always bears slight…"

"Void, stuff, yeah I know," Rose interrupted, quickly.

"That's not exactly the technical term for it but…"

"Yeah well, it's technical enough for me," Rose answered, sounding irritable, but the ghost of a smile still pulled at the corners of her mouth as she remembered the Doctor's words from that dreadful, dreadful day as he explained about the Void and cracked jokes about her mum. "First time she's looked normal in her life!" Ooh and his glasses; his ridiculous 3-D glasses. She pursed her lips against the grin that threatened to break out as she got a mental picture of the Doctor striding around like he owned the place in the most ludicrous pair of glasses she'd ever seen, beaming away like…a geeky Father Christmas. Yeah; she'd used that analogy before but still…it was an apt one.

"Still though, Rose," Adeola continued carefully, " I don't think the connection happened because of one factor or another; I think it happened for a number of reasons." She pressed on, her eyes seeming to shoot sparks as she gazed at Rose. " Yes, telepathy and Psychic energy play minor parts, of course they do, but I'd say that the main explanation for the connection would be your relationship with this Doctor."

There was a very tense silence at Adeola's last sentence. Rose was consciously aware of the rising and falling of her chest as she breathed. She could sense that Pete and Mickey had suddenly gone very still, aching to hear Rose's answer in spite of themselves. Rose had never really spoken about her relationship with the Doctor to anyone other then her mum and even then she'd stayed deliberately vague and sketchy. They could guess of course, but to hear it from Rose herself rather than dubious speculation…

"Is that relevant?" said Rose flatly.

Adeola looked surprised at Rose's sudden self-consciousness and hostility. "Studies have shown that through life we form bonds with the people around us and that the deepest, closest bonds tend to be between lovers of family members. For example, two sisters would tend to have a deeper bond than two people living on the same street."

"Big surprise," muttered Mickey, under his breath.

Adeola ignored him. "The bonds of telepathy share much the same basis; there'd be a greater telepathic connection between say…sexual partners than work colleagues. So, what was the relationship between you and your mysterious Doctor? Dependence? Friendship? Love? Sexual?"

Rose gave a sharp intake of breath, feeling her cheeks reddening, extremely wary of the fact that her dad and ex-boyfriend were sitting right next to her. Did this clever but infuriating woman really think she was comfortable talking about such things with a complete stranger as well as in front of her dad?

Pete cleared his throat awkwardly, and got to his feet, smoothing his trousers down. "I err, I could really do with a cup of tea if you don't mind? I'm dog-tired. Mickey, you want to come and ransack the tea machine?"

Mickey stared up at Pete, gormlessly. "Eh? Nah mate I'm alright."

However, Pete's not-so-subtle kick soon changed his mind.

" OW! Err yeah, I think I'll join you, yeah."

Looking mortified, the two men legged it out of the room like two embarrassed pre-pubescent boys desperate to leave a Biology lesson after a talk on Reproduction.

"What's it got to do with you?" asked Rose furiously, surprised to find herself actually angry that this woman was being so nosy.

" Because, Rose I'm trying to help you!" insisted Adeola, exasperatedly. "But if you insist upon acting like a teenager than I might as well close this case!" She let out a long, shaky breath, apparently aware that she'd sounded slightly harsh. "Look, I'm sorry, truly I am; I know this must be difficult for you but you must understand that if the Doctor's involved then it concerns the entire Torchwood institute, not just you."

"He hated Torchwood," said Rose, mutinously.

"Yet you still work for us!" shot back Adeola, brashly. "Torchwood's not as corrupt as it used to be, and you know it!"

"I know," murmured Rose softly, "Though sometimes I do…wonder whether he'd be happy about me doing this…whether he'd approve," she said, looking wistful, though it was obvious that she was talking to herself rather than to Adeola. Would the Doctor approve, she wondered. Would he be ok with her storming into hidden headquarters arresting every alien in sight? Obviously, the aliens she pursued were all threatening and dangerous but still…the Doctor too was an alien. As dangerous and as powerful a man as she'd ever met. Yet, she was still doing what he'd shown her; fighting for the sake of the innocent, fighting to save the universe. Perhaps he wouldn't mind too much…

"Did you love him, Rose?" asked Adeola, with a tone of heavy finality, a flicker of pity and hope present in her eyes.

Rose bristled at the nerve of her; at her sheer directness and upfront manner, yet she couldn't help but feel a touch of admiration for her at the same time. She'd never met anyone as abrupt and no-nonsense in her entire life. It was easy to see how she'd grown so successful. She still wasn't sure whether she liked or loathed her, but decided at the very least that she trusted her. Adeola Oshodi could read someone through a brick wall.

"Yes," said Rose clearly, facing her with a blazing look, with such fire and pride and love in her eyes that Adeola found herself unable to look away from her melting, intense gaze.

"Right," said Adeola, sounding pleased and triumphant. "Well, Torchwood's gossips would have a field day if they found out but…with such a strong telepathic connection I hardly expected anything else."

"The strength of a telepathic connection depends on the strength of your feelings?" asked Rose, overlooking the slight about gossip, too focused on her thoughts. At last things were beginning to make sense.

"Yes, it does," confirmed Adeola approvingly. She took a deep breath but then seemed to change her mind and began to trace the tangle of squiggles of Rose's brain readings with her finger, not wanting to look at Rose directly.

"I don't need scans and readings and degrees to realise that you've lost him," she said, so quietly and meekly that she was almost inaudible. Rose noticed that her sweaty hands had left damp fingerprints on the shiny surface of her file and chose to focus on the glistening patched rather than look at anything else.

"He's not dead," Rose told her defiantly, surprised that her voice sounded so measured and even, when all she wanted to do was burst into tears of frustration at the fact that people seemed intent upon treating her as if she were fragile and unstable. She hated anyone feeling sorry for her; Adeola was as bad as the redheaded woman from before. She didn't need pity. Why couldn't anyone understand that? She had the strangest feeling that the Doctor would have, though, which was just ironic really…

"No," Adeola corrected herself sheepishly. "But your feelings for him, your sadness over losing him…they all explain the readings of your brain activity," she said excitedly, jabbing a finger at the many, complicated-looking graphs.

"How?" asked Rose, confused.

"Here," said Adeola, turning the graph around and holding it up so that Rose could see better. "For the last nine months you've been subconsciously giving out weak telepathic signals to just one source."

"The Doctor," guessed Rose, listening intently.

"Probably," said Adeola, looking sympathetic. "But seeing as you've been doing it subconsciously you haven't realised you've been doing it. You could have been…I don't know, making a cup of tea or running for the bus and you've still been giving out these faint telepathic blips."

"All the time?" asked Rose, frowning down at the readings.

"Constantly," said Adeola, pointing at a thick orange unbroken line on the graph. "Your Doctor will have been receiving them in his subconscious, but obviously because they're subconscious it won't have been immediately apparent what they were. He'd probably have thought that they were his subconscious thoughts."

Rose's mind was buzzing; she was trying so very hard to grasp this, but it was like wading through treacle, like a thick fog had seeped into her mind, clouding her thoughts. The answer was there she could feel it; she just couldn't get to it.

She squinted at the readings as if they were a particularly difficult jigsaw puzzle.

"So, say he was running and he heard my voice at the back of his mind, he'd think it was the voice of his subconscious but it was actually me giving out telepathic signals without realising?"

"Yes!" crowed Adeola, clapping excitedly. "That's it! Blimey, you've caught on quick!"

Rose grimaced. She hadn't, actually. She was just thinking about how she'd heard the Doctor's voice in Mother Care and then again in the street. She'd thought it was just her own mind and imagination filling in the gaps of what the Doctor would have said, purely because she missed him, but if what Adeola was saying was correct, then it was actually the Doctor's subconscious talking to her via weak telepathic signals.

"You're saying our subconscious' have been talking to each other? We just haven't been consciously aware of it?" asked Rose, slowly beginning to comprehend.

"Yes. But today it was different wasn't it, Rose? Were you thinking about him more than usual?"

Rose buried her face in her hands. Today had been different. She'd been upset…so upset because she'd realised, right there in the corridor that she had to move on and leave him behind. Then an image of him smiling away to himself sadly in the TARDIS had just popped into her mind, as clear as day…then she'd spoken to him.

"Yeah, I was," said Rose stiffly, closing her eyes, trying to recall the picture of her wonderful, wonderful Doctor standing there looking so tired and weary in a strange suit. He'd looked so…incomplete. Seeing him like that, it had been heartbreaking.

"That explains it, then" replied Adeola, nodding slowly, as if she were doing a complicated maths equation in her head. "This is purely guesswork, Rose. We can never know for sure, but my guesses have never been wrong yet…I think that the connection between you became conscious, became so strong that you both were aware of it because you were both thinking about the other at the same time…"

"He was thinking about me?" mused Rose sadly, thinking about his desperate, sad smile, about the hurt she'd registered in his once sparkling eyes.

"He must have been," said Adeola quietly, and Rose was taken aback to see that her eyes looked very full and shiny, as if she too was fighting back tears. "Your shared Psychic energy was enough to make the connection solid; you manipulated it so that you could talk to each other…"

"No, I didn't do anything," protested Rose, shakily, "It was all him; I just heard his voice, I…"

"Here," said Adeola, pressing a clean, folded tissue into her hand. "It's alright to cry, Rose."

Rose snorted, blowing her nose and wiping away the few tears that she couldn't remember shedding. "I think I've cried too much today," she said pathetically. "Wait, just…let me see if I get this," she mumbled, scrunching the tissue up into a ball. "You're saying that we were both thinking of each other at the same time, which made the connection between our subconscious' stronger so that he was able to fiddle with it and use it to talk to me properly?"

"Well, 'fiddle' doesn't quite…"

"Oh you know what I mean!" stressed Rose impatiently, throwing her hands up in the air, ignoring the loud knock at the door and staring beseechingly at Adeola.

" I'm always thinking about him," she assured her, forgetting to be embarrassed that she was conversing about her emotions so freely. "How come the connection wasn't made conscious before now? How come it hurt so much?"

"Oh Rose, of course it would hurt if it's working across the Void!" Adeola explained, almost pityingly. "It would have hurt him just as much as it's hurt you but don't you see? That's what makes you so extraordinary…you ignored the pain and carried on! It probably wasn't made conscious before now because, oh I don't know…maybe you've never missed each other or thought about each other so strongly?"

She had a point there, Rose thought. Up until today, she'd never missed the Doctor quite so much since the day she lost him. Oh, so long ago, now. Was that what had made it possible to talk to him? Surely that meant though, that the Doctor must have been missing her just as much as she was missing him? She didn't know how to feel about that, if she was being honest with herself. She didn't want the Doctor to be upset and lonely…she didn't want him to miss her, not really. It wouldn't feel…quite right. She'd feel like she had some sort of power over him, some sort of hold and she didn't want that…she just wanted him to be happy. Wasn't that enough?

There was a loud bang as, whoever had been knocking at the door had evidently grown tired of waiting and had decided to try to, (rather unceremoniously) break the door down.

"Sorry! Sorry!" called Mickey as he elbowed his way into the room carrying four steaming-hot stereo foam cups of tea a large, family-size packet of sweets clenched between his teeth. "Got my hands full, sorry," he apologised.

"Here," he said, thrusting a cup at Adeola. "Milk, two sugars. And for youuuu," he started brightly, dropping the packet of Revels onto Rose's lap but then stopping as he saw her tear-streaked face. "Err, well I brought these for you but I can err wait outside if you're…" he trailed off, awkwardly.

"No, no s'alright Mickey, just sit down…seriously," Rose reassured him, sniffing, doing her best to give him a smile. She watched as Mickey placed the three cups of coffee on Rose's bedside table and then settled himself back down in his seat, self-consciously.

"Adeola," began Rose tentatively, trying to keep her composure. "You know I'm not an expert on Psychic energy or Telepathy or brain strain or…whatever. I just want the Doctor back," she admitted simply, feeling awful as, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Mickey deflate slightly. "I don't care how much it hurts…I just want to be able to talk to him…please? Can you help me forge another connection? Is it possible?"

Adeola raised her eyebrows at the trembling, yet determined woman in front of her and for once, didn't know how to answer her. Not really.

"No," she told Rose, with a small smile. "I can't do anything…that's up to you."

"But if the connection's broken…" said Rose, sounding at a complete loss.

"Who said anything about it being broken?" said Adeola, quite indignantly. "You can't break telepathic connections; that's absurd!"

Rose gaped at her. "The Doctor told me I had to break it 'cause it was killing me."

"It didn't do you much good," Mickey noted, reaching over to help himself to Rose's sweets, rustling quite unnecessarily as he struggled to open the packet.

"Yes, cheers, Mickey," answered Rose, flapping her hand at him. "The Doctor told me I had to break it," she accused Adeola.

Adeola stiffened, sitting up straighter in her plastic chair and rearranging her file, neatly. "Well then your Doctor was wrong," she said snootily. "By all accounts he's a brilliant man but believe me…it's impossible to break a telepathic connection. Yes, you can turn it off, certainly but you can never break it."

Rose stared at her, feeling strangely light-headed. She was aware of Mickey's unsure hand on her shoulder. A warm, contented feeling, like drinking hot chocolate at the end of a long, cold day began to grow in her stomach. Did that mean…?

"So, I could still talk to the Doctor if the connection was made again?" she whispered, trying to keep the incredulity from her voice, not daring to get her hopes built up.

"Of course you could!" insisted Adeola, as if Rose had just asked her if she could do something as simple as use the telephone. "I mean, like today, you'd never be able to predict when you'd be able to speak to him…pre-empt when the connection would be strong enough but no, I'd say you'd still be able to communicate with him; the normal rules don't seem to apply to you," added Adeola, sounding amused.

"When will I…"

"Look," said Adeola, realising that Rose was struggling to form full sentences. She reached over and took the bag of Revels out of Mickey's unwilling hands and tipped a large handful out onto the bedclothes. "Which one do you want?" asked Adeola flippantly, gesturing at the small, chocolate-covered balls.

"What the…" started Mickey, sounding fearful for Adeola's sanity.

"Bear with me," she said, flashing him a cat-like grin. She turned back to Rose. "Which one's your favourite?" she asked, patiently.

Rose stared at her. What on earth was she doing? How did this help in any way at all?

"Err, coffee," she said, sounding wary.

"Choose a coffee one, then," Adeola ordered, smiling at her indulgently.

Rose gazed down at the bits of chocolate, the hospital lights reflecting off their shiny, dark surfaces. It was hard to work out which one was orange, which was coffee, which was toffee and which was raisin. Only the flat, disc shaped chocolates were recognisable.

Rose shot a confused glance in Adeola's direction before picking up a piece of chocolate and taking a tiny nibble from the edge.

"Eurgh," she moaned, making a face as she registered that she'd chosen an orange-flavoured Revel rather than a coffee one.

" I take it that wasn't a coffee one, then?" asked Adeola, trying to be funny.

"No," confirmed Rose, watching Adeola select a Revel, carefully and pop it in her mouth. "But what's your point?"

"My point," deliberated Adeola, sucking on her chocolate, "is that it's hard to tell which one's which. You don't know which one you're going to get, you don't know when you're going to get a coffee," she stated rather cryptically. "It's the same with your Doctor. You don't know when the connection will next be formed; you don't know when he'll talk to you next, when the time will be right again. You've just got to wait and see."

Mickey gazed at Adeola, slightly open-mouthed, wondering if she was really all there. Rose however, looked thoughtful; impressed with her clever analogy.

"I'll think about that," she promised her.

"Please do," answered Adeola, pointedly, rising to her feet and picking up her bag, struggling to balance her thick file and her untouched cup of coffee.

"Thank you for the tea," she nodded at Mickey, who smiled uncertainly back at her.

She looked down at Rose and held out her hand.

"It was a pleasure to finally meet you, Rose," she said, with a slight smile. "I'll look forward to working with you in the future."

Rose shook her hand, feeling oddly formal. "You too," she replied, placidly, "Thank you for all your help."

"No worries," said Adeola, dropping her hand and making her way to the door, her heels click clacking as she walked. She opened the door, letting in the noise of the hustle and bustle of the hospital corridor before turning back to Rose.

"I hope you get a coffee soon…good luck with your Doctor."

Rose and Mickey waited until her quick; footsteps had faded away before turning to each other and exchanging identical unsure smiles.

Rose gave a nervous laugh as Mickey whistled lowly.

" Dunno if I liked her, to be quite honest," admitted Mickey truthfully, looking uncomfortable.

"Hmm," Rose made a non-committal noise at the back of her throat and reached for her tea from her bedside table. She prised off the plastic lid, allowing the hot steam to condense on her face and blew on the surface before taking a careful sip.

She and Mickey fell into a companionable silence as she mulled over what Adeola had said, the hot tea soothing her jugged nerves.

"Where's my dad?" asked Rose after a while, suddenly noticing his absence.

"Gone to see your mum," said Mickey, helping himself to another chocolate.

"How is she?" asked Rose in alarm, realising that she still hadn't seen her or the new baby and feeling slightly guilty.

"Fine," Mickey assured her. " She's a bit tired but she seems ok; she's asking for her make-up because she reckons she looks a right state and err she says you're an unfit daughter for not going in to see her," he said with a laugh. "Pete hasn't told her you collapsed…thinks it's best not to worry her."

"Good," remarked Rose, sounding extremely relieved. She couldn't imagine what her mum would do if she knew she'd collapsed and was laid up in a hospital bed…regardless of having had a Caesarian she would probably have stumbled out of bed and rushed to her bedside, fussing over her like a mother hen and looking for someone to blame or tell off. Or even slap. Rose felt her breath catch in her throat as she realised that the last person her mum had slapped had probably been the Doctor. What was it that he'd said the first time she had slapped him? " 900 years of space and time travel and I've never been slapped by someone's mother!" For some reason, a childish part of her secretly hoped that her mum would never slap anyone else…just so that the last person to earn one of her infamous slaps could still be the Doctor. It was like some twisted badge of honour; her slaps should come with a free T-shirt bearing the slogan, "I survived the wrath of Jackie Tyler." The Doctor would no doubt have found it amusing. Then again, he found a lot of things amusing, and often the pair of them had been the only two lunatics laughing at some weak comment or other, whilst everyone else remained straight faced and serious…she laughed on her own, now.

Absent-mindedly she picked at the small pile of chocolates that Adeola had tipped onto the bed and tried a few.

"What?" asked Mickey, sounding slightly unnerved as Rose broke out into a huge grin to rival that of a Cheshire cat. "What?" he repeated, staring at her as she broke into a fit of weak giggles.

She smiled at him, her brown eyes dancing in merriment. " I got a coffee."

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