Chapter Text
One thing about the Doctor is that he always kept to his word; so when he told Rose that he would figure out what was going on with her, he followed through. Rose wasn’t exactly in the mood for a traditional Christmas after saying goodbye to her mother, so almost immediately after Donna left, the Doctor got to work. He sent them into the Vortex and practically dragged her down to the medbay.
“Are you actually qualified to do any of this?” Rose asked, laying down on an “examination” table.
The Doctor smirked. “Well, they don’t call me the Doctor for nothing.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Pretty sure you started that.”
He looked up from one of the screens and met her eyes. “Well, okay. Then what about the stethoscope, huh? You think I just carry that around for pure enjoyment?”
She nodded slowly, as if talking to a child. “Um, yes. Isn’t that the stethoscope my mom took from our neighbor when you regenerated, anyway?”
He tilted his head in thought for a moment before lifting his shoulders in a shrug. He turned back to the screens, leaving Rose alone with her thoughts. He pulled out his glasses from his jacket pocket, put them on and leaned forward to better read the results. She glanced at the monitor, and understood none of it. The Doctor said that the screens were displaying English, but everything looked like gibberish to her.
His brows knit together, and his back straightened. After what felt like an eternity, he spoke. “But… but that…”
“Doctor?” Her heart clenched in her chest, as she sat up. “What’s wrong?”
He inhaled deeply before responding. “You’re alright, you’re fine. You’re a specimen of perfect health; strong heart, strong lungs, good brain function, everything’s normal. It’s just…”
“Just?”
He took off his specs and made eye contact with her. “Your cells are dying off at a significantly slower rate, especially for a human. It’s almost… almost like they’re not dying at all. Like they’re… regenerating.”
“Regenerating?!”
“Not how my cells regenerate, you won’t turn into someone else. Your cells are rewriting themselves, instead of dying off to create more. Your aging has been slowed down exponentially, to the point where you aren’t really aging at all. But aside from that, nothing else has been altered.”
“What does that mean, then? I’ll die at ninety-something looking sixty.”
He winced visibly. “Based on what I’ve seen, you’ll die at maybe 120, looking about 40, 45 at max.”
“That’s it? So I’m not going to explode or burn up suddenly?”
He shook his head. “As long as we don’t encounter any more homemade Huon particles.” He rubbed a hand down his face.
Rose leapt down and laced her hands behind his neck, causing him to lean down a tad. “I’ve got longer with you now. You won’t watch me fade away.”
The Doctor brushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “No, but that means I’ll forget. I won’t see it coming.”
She nodded to herself, before standing up on her toes and pressing a sweet kiss to his lips. He froze for a split second before returning the favor. He wrapped his arms around her waist, nearly lifting her off the ground. They pulled apart after a moment, tilting their foreheads together and sharing grins.
“Anything else I should know about?”
He smiled slightly and pecked her quickly on the tip of her nose. “You’ll likely heal quicker than before. Like with your ribs after Canary Wharf.”
Rose hummed in understanding. Her ribs had been cracked, nearly broken, and as soon as they got back to the TARDIS, they were almost healed.
“And…” the Doctor began before promptly trailing off.
“And?” Rose repeated.
“With the changes to your cells, and your body as a whole, you’ve stopped ovulation completely, meaning…”
“That I’m infertile.”
“Yes.” His voice had gotten significantly softer as the conversation went on.
Rose lost herself in her thoughts. She never really considered what a future with her as a mother would look like. It was only really a consideration when she was young, before she understood the cruelty of the world. And there was no way the idea of children had crossed her mind while traveling with the Doctor. She could live with that.
“Okay.”
The Doctor’s eyebrows launched up to his hairline. “Okay?”
She nodded, satisfied with her decision. “All I care about is traveling with you. And that means I won’t have my period anymore either, right?”
He snorted loudly. “Yes, I suppose so.”
She grinned. “I think that’s the best thing I’ve ever heard.”