**I don't usually write these kinds of "fluff" one-shots, but based on this story's theme, I think you can probably guess what I was going through the day I published this. I decided to rate this T, not M, because there's nothing sexual about this Fanfic and I figured the female teens on this site would appreciate something like this. However, please tell me if my rating was misplaced in any way. Hope you enjoy!**
Rose Tyler was uncomfortable. No, not just uncomfortable. In pain. The kind of pain that made her toss and turn on her bed, writhing like someone possessed.
In the back of her mind, Rose knew that this pain was a long time in coming. Traveling on a time machine made keeping track of her biological calendar almost impossible. But even during those first few trips with the Doctor and his TARDIS, Rose had had the foresight to keep a physical calendar in her room. She'd count down the fateful four weeks, and when her date drew close she would ask the Doctor to let her stay with her mum for a while. One week, to be exact, the perfect amount of time for a certain Time Lord to leave and come back, suspecting nothing.
But in all the excitement and danger Rose had completely forgotten about the calendar, and now she lay in her bed with burning pain in her abdomen and the disgusting feeling of blood trailing down the inside of her legs. Her monthly bleeding had begun.
Just as another flash of pain hit the left side of her body, there came a loud knocking on her bedroom door. "Rose?" It was the Doctor. "Rose, are you alright?"
Damn it. She'd been holding on to the hope that maybe, just maybe, she could ride through her cramps before the Doctor could make an appearance, but now it was clear that that wasn't going to happen. Through gritted teeth, Rose shouted, "Fine, 'm fine. Just…sleeping."
"Rose, I can smell blood," the Doctor's voice replied, and she silently cursed his ultra-sensitive sense of smell. "I'm coming in."
"Doctor, 'm fine, I just—" But suddenly her body flashed her a warning that no, this position wasn't right, either, and she had to bite back her response as she turned over. Now that she was facing the door, she had a clear vantage point to see the Doctor barge into her pink bedroom.
His face was creased with worry, complete with wide and panicked eyes, but his breathing slowed and his expression turned to confusion when he saw that there was no murderous alien in their midst. "Rose…?"
"I told you, I'm fine. Just goin' through my, uh, monthly."
The Doctor narrowed his eyes in confusion. "Your what?"
Rose blew out a puff of air. "My…monthly bleeding."
He looked puzzled for a few more seconds, ignoring his companion's pointed looks, before comprehension dawned on his face. "Oh!" he shouted, looking like a little kid who had finally figured out the answer to a guessing game. "Your menstrual cycle!"
"Yep." Another flicker of pain, this time on her right side, and she flipped onto her back. Maybe if she kept her body completely straight and still…
She could sense that the Doctor was still standing in the middle of her bedroom, but Rose knew from a similar experience with Micky that blokes were useless when it came to these kinds of things. Even if that bloke happened to be a 900-year-old alien. "Doctor? Um, not meaning to be rude or anything, but could you leave? Please?" A shower was what she needed. A nice, hot shower.
"Right, yes, sorry. Call if you, uh, need anything!" He fumbled for the door handle behind him, but before leaving he happened to glance back at the bedroom as Rose made her way to the en suite. "Uh, Rose?" he said to her retreating back. "You…there's blood on the sheets. And, uh, your legs."
"Yes, I bloody well know that!" she shouted, and she promptly slammed the en suite door in his face.
After an hour of luxurious hot water cascading down her back, Rose wrapped a towel around herself and stepped back into her bedroom to find it empty. Coward. Once again the Doctor proved that all blokes were inherently the same. You could explain the biology of it again and again, and they would still question why a woman would continue to live and deal with blood coming out of her body every month.
What she needed wasn't a bloke, or even a doctor with a lowercase "d". Rose wanted to be cared for by another woman, someone who knew what she was going through and could help her through it. She was used to her menstrual cycles at this point, but her mum had always been available for counsel and comfort. How strange that Rose had grown to be dependent on her mum's abilities in this particular area. The Doctor would probably agree to drop her off at Jackie's flat, should she ask, but Rose bit her lip and decided then and there that she would work through these cramps on her own, like any other independent woman.
Just as she made the mental vow, another spasm of abdominal pain made her tense and squeeze her fists. Easier said than done, indeed.
Rose quickly changed into her most comfortable sweatpants and t-shirt (there was no way she was letting the Doctor take her on an adventure today), used the feminine products she'd brought on board since day one, and grabbed the remote that controlled the large, flat screen tele the Doctor had installed for her a few months previously. But when she reached her bed again, she halted in surprise. The bed looked to have been recently made up, and on its covers lay everything a girl could want or need while going through her monthly bleeding: a hot compress, chocolate bars, saltine crackers (she hadn't had those since she was a little kid), water, a small bottle of Advil (she was surprised such a thing was even on board, as the Doctor had warned her that he was allergic), and a stack of magazines, TV guides, and movies. Who had set this all up? The Doctor came to mind, but after seeing how he'd handled the smell of her blood she doubted he'd want to come near her for the next five to six days.
Then it hit her: the TARDIS! She'd completely forgotten that the sentient ship was, for all purposes, a female. Who needed biology? Women, human or alien or robot or ship or otherwise, stick together.
A quick look at the bedspread under the covers showed that that had been changed, too. "Thank you, TARDIS. Thank you, thank you, thank you," Rose said to the wall. She patted the pink wall in appreciation, and the ship emitted a contented hum. Enjoy, she seemed to say.
With a happy squeal Rose mentally beat down her rising cramps and set about plugging in the hot compress into a wall socket and selecting which flick she wanted to watch first. The TARDIS had moved the DVD player to the table next to her bed, so she wouldn't have to get out of her bed at all. She sent another "thank you" to the ship, popped in "The Decoy Bride", and snuggled into her bed. One hot compress and one Advil pill later Rose felt like the happiest cramp-ridden female in the universe.
Katie had just met James when she heard the Doctor knock again. "Hey, Rose?" His voice sounded a more polite than earlier, a fact Rose was extremely grateful for. "Could I come in?"
"Yeah, sure thing," she replied, pausing the movie and moving her half-eaten bag of saltine crackers to the side. Now that her cramps had calmed down to a manageable degree, her raging emotions followed suit, as did her guilt. Suffice to say that Rose was not proud with how she had treated the Doctor that morning, or as close to morning as one could get on a time ship.
Her door opened slowly, allowing an unusually reserved Doctor to enter her room. He looked around at the tele, the pink walls, and her wooden vanity with pictures taped to the edges before finally settling on her. "Just wanted to check in on you. See if you were okay."
Rose smiled. "Thanks. I'm alright." She nodded at the pile next to her on the bed. "I've already done so, but could you tell the TARDIS I said thank you? She might be a ship but she really knows how to make a girl feel better."
"Sounds like something she would do," he said, a grin creeping on his face, before it turned into a kind of grimace. "And, well, she made her point. To me, I mean."
She laughed, and it brightened her heart as much as it did the Doctor's. An hour ago she'd given up hope on ever laughing or smiling again. On an impulse, she said, "You wanna watch? Think you might like it."
The Doctor paused a beat, as if he was wondering whether or not he should be doing something else, but then a grin spread over his face. "I'd love to, actually!" Suddenly he was on the other side of her queen sized bed, pushing the rest of Rose's goodies aside to make space for him. "Which one's this one?" he asked as he removed his shoes and laid down on the bed next to her.
Rose grinned sheepishly, now almost embarrassed to be watching something so corny in front of the Doctor. But she quickly replied, "It's 'The Decoy Bride'," before hitting the play button on the remote and waiting for some comment about her "simple movies".
But the insult never came. "Is this the one with the author?" At a nod from Rose he settled back into the pillows more comfortably. "Ooh, I love this one! Have you seen it?"
"No, so no spoilers!"
"Wouldn't dream of it. Not for this movie." As the author character, James, came on screen, Rose caught the Doctor rubbing his chin. "Does that actor remind you of someone?"
The innocent comment made Rose giggle, because, yes, for whatever reason the actor who played James, David Tennant, looked almost identical to the Doctor. Soon this evolved into full-on laughter, and the Time Lord beside her had to shush her with a grin because neither of them could hear what was being said.
Sometime during the movie, the Doctor's arm had encircled Rose's shoulders, and her head had somehow ended up leaning against his chest. With a final kiss, the screen faded to black, the credits rolled…and the Doctor glanced down at his companion to find her in tears. "Rose?" he said quickly, sitting up. The earlier panic was back. "Rose, what is it? What's wrong?"
"N-nothin'." She sniffed and wiped her nose with a tissue that suddenly appeared next to her as if by magic. The TARDIS had saved her again. "It's just…these hormones. If this was what happens when I watch a comedy, I'm glad I didn't pick something with dying in it."
Now it was the Doctor's turn to laugh, and Rose whapped him on the arm playfully because it was so not funny, but she was in the middle of her own fit of giggles. Then he was tickling her, and Rose squealed and tried to retaliate. Eventually they both collapsed on opposite sides of the bed, cramps forgotten and chocolate wrappers strewn around them like confetti. "That was the best movie," Rose said, breathless.
"Oh, yes! Brilliant, even!" The Doctor sat back up and sifted through the DVDs. "What next?"
"Um, you pick!"
He grinned, but Rose didn't like that grin. That was the cunning smile that meant the Doctor had just found something she'll regret. "Alright, you asked for it." And he held up "The Lion King".
"Really, Doctor?" she said with a faux groan. She'd been sure that movie hadn't been in the stack when she'd looked through them earlier. "We've watched that a billion times."
He frowned. "Actually, we've seen it together a total of six times." Rose gave him a raised eyebrow, which he blatantly ignored as he put the disk into the player. "Besides, I know you like it!"
"I'll just cry when Mufasa dies!"
"Yes, yes you will," the Doctor said, turning to her with a gaze that was suddenly very vulnerable. "And guess who'll be here to dry your tears?"
In the end, Rose agreed to watch "The Lion King" for the seventh time. She laughed in all the right places, and when Scar pushed Mufasa off the cliff Rose did begin to sob uncontrollably, at which point the Doctor paused the movie immediately following Simba's exile to hold Rose in a tight hug. That scene always struck his emotional chords, too, but for a different reason. He could relate to the young, terrified Simba, having to watch his own country burn and feeling—no, knowing—that he'd made it happen, but still being the one left behind to pick up the pieces. But Rose was still crying, and the Doctor pushed his dark past aside for the moment so he could better rub circles into her back. About halfway through, he realized that his fingers were writing a certain three words on her back in circular Gallifreyen. He paused in surprise, but did not stop his ministrations.
When her hiccups and sharp inhales became less and less frequent, the Doctor pulled back and settled Rose back into her earlier position of leaning against his side.
"Better?" he asked her, and she nodded. In the end, he did dry his companion's tears, although it felt much more like Rose using the Doctor's pinstriped sleeve as a tissue. Not that he minded. Much.
And not long after a rowdy rendition of "Hakuna Matata", the Doctor looked over to find Rose fast asleep. He quietly adjusted the covers over her sleeping form, and watched "Can You Feel the Love Tonight" and Simba's triumph on his own. But even as the credits rolled with his favorite song playing in the background, the same song he'd memorized on the African drum, the Doctor leaned his head onto Rose's hair and smiled. If this was what a day with a period-stricken Rose was like, the Doctor was willing to intentionally keep Rose from her mum's house every four weeks. Scarlet bed sheets and all.
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