The Doctor pushed a lever up, then back down; adjusted this knob, twisted that handle and pushed a few buttons that he didn't particularly pay attention to. More often than not, being psychically linked to his beautiful time ship was a blessing; she could sense his state of mind, what he was thinking and feeling, and always knew the perfect medium between what he wanted and what he needed.

Like, for instance, how he needed to simply exist in this moment, to not think or control or focus; simply do. She gave him the freedom for this, temporarily cutting off control and keeping herself steady inside of the vortex, drifting at a leisurely pace. It wouldn't have been the first time. In fact the TARDIS had auto piloted several times after the war; times when the Doctor had been too unstable mentally or emotionally to make the best decisions with all of time and space at his fingertips and the guilt of a double genocide weighing on his shoulders as the lone survivor.

Except he hadn't been, as he had learned today, not really.

A Dalek, of all the things to find there, on that tiny rock of dirt and life known as Earth . A Dalek had survived. A fact that was currently trying to tear apart any semblance of balance he had managed to cling to in the company of everyone who had managed to survive it.

Circumstances aside, it was as if he had been throttled back in time. Because for the second time in his life, it was a Dalek that stood between him and the thing that mattered to him the most. For the second time in his very long life, the Doctor had had to make the choice to sacrifice his world in order to put an end to the terror and horror that only a Dalek could bring about.

Suddenly all of that blood was fresh on his hands. Again.

And Rose's would have been a bone deep stain among the rest.

Only this time, he had been miraculously, incredibly, blessedly granted a reprieve. This time, whatever deity it was that he didn't believe in, had been smiling down on him.

Rose had some how managed to survive.

No, she had come back from the dead; had come back to him from the grave he had been so quick to bury her in, within that bunker and within himself. In the most hidden parts of himself that he refused to face, the parts that held the countless faces of every Gallifreyan who went up in flames the day he had slaughtered them.

She would have become one of them.

And that knowledge was currently eating him alive.

His hands had begun to shake at some point during his torrent of thoughts and he gripped the sides of the console, bracing himself and allowing his head to hang for a moment, taking a few deep breaths to try and calm the unsteady pattern his hearts had started to thrum out.

Rose. So young and so full of life. Eyes so vibrant and a smile that radiated warmth when she was genuinely happy. He hadn't realized how he had come to rely on that tongue-touched grin, not until the moments in which he was sure he'd never again see it.

He needed to see it again. Now.

He would just check on her, he told himself as he pushed away from the console and turned to make his way down the hallway than led to her room, just check to make sure she was alright after the day's events. He had been so wrapped up in his own thoughts when she and Adam had retreated to find the ships newest, (and most assuredly temporary) occupant a room to stay in that he hadn't really paid either of them any attention.

And now, in the solitude and gentle hum of the TARDIS, he realized that having her out of his sight just then was not an option. He needed to see her, to see her face light up, to hear her breathe, just to prove to himself that she was still here, still with him. That he hadn't had some sort of a breakdown and hallucinated her coming on broad.

The door to her room was as ordinary as the rest of the bedroom doors, blank, the surface of the wood unmarred and flawless and he paused as he reached it, studying it for a moment before withdrawing the sonic from the inner pocket of his leather jacket, adjusted a setting and he began to inscribe in Gallifreyan on its surface. The wood smoked slightly, but the word cooled quickly enough and he ran his finger over it upon its completion, feeling a small, yet steady bit of comfort at seeing it there.

After a mental inquiry to the TARDIS, in which she informed him that Rose was currently in the en suite, the Doctor let himself into her bedroom. He took a moment to glance around, having only been in here once before to drop off her bag after leaving London the last time they had visited.

The TARDIS had initially decorated the room for Rose, as it had for his previous companions. Being not only sentient, but psychic as well, she tended to decorate according to a mixture of the occupants taste and the TARDIS' personal preference for the person. The walls in here were cream in color, with constellations mapped out in silver that danced around the room in a lazy waltz and, in the low light, glowed faintly. There was a dresser made of solid dark wood as well as a vanity of the same fashion, its top covered with tubes and bottles and makeup brushes.

The duvet was a pale pink and he felt himself gravitate towards it, sitting down heavily on the edge of the bed with his back to the bathroom door so that when she emerged, she would have time to cover herself if need be. He leaned forward and cradled his head in his hands, using his knees to prop his elbows up and listened to the ever present calming lull of the time machine around him.

He didn't have to wait long, fortunately enough, as moments later the door opened. He heard her soft intake of breath, the sudden increase in her heart beat, but decided against moving just yet, leaving the first move up to her.

The rustle of fabric signified her dressing after a few moments of silence and he felt the bed dip beside him, felt her leg brush against his as she settled against him.

"I think you missed a turn in the hallway Doctor. This is my room." He could hear the teasing tone with which she spoke, trying to ease into an explanation as to why he was there.

"I'm kind of nervous about what I'd find in yours though since you're still in here. Think there might have been a few things you neglected to tell me. Love to see what shade of lipstick you prefer... I have a lovely Rose Amour that would really bring out the color of your eyes."

"You could have died today."

"But I didn't."

He sat up and looked at her; her face was scrubbed clean of makeup, her hair wrapped in a towel and she had on nothing but her dressing gown, tied snugly around her middle. When their eyes met, her own widened and he could guess that his expression wasn't of the most composed nature.

"That Dalek could have, would have, killed you."

"But it didn't. "

He felt his expression harden. "Don't you get it? You would have been dead Rose. No more Rose Tyler, no more adventures, no more future. And what about Jackie, hmm? Your mother would have had to bury her only child."

She sat back as if he had physically struck her, her brow furrowing but didn't respond.

"I promised her I'd bring you back, safe, and it's obvious that I can't keep that promise."

"What are you saying, Doctor?"

He didn't respond, instead letting his eyes slide away from her.

"You can't take me back. I won't go." She pushed away from him and stood, turning to stand in front of him with her arms crossed. He looked up at her; her face set, anger radiating from her body, shoulders tense. He could hear her heart suddenly pick up rhythm, pounding against her rib cage and he revelled in the sound, in the proof that she was alive.

"You're her only kid, Rose. How could I have faced her if I only had your corpse to bring back to her?"

"But that's not even an issue, because I'm fine. I surviv-"

"This time. You survived this time. But that makes it what, four times you've almost haven't since you've been with me now? Five since we've met? Five times you could have been killed and Jackie would be completely alone. Is that what you want Rose, for your mum to have to bury you?"

"That's not fair. "

"Why not? Because it's true?" His voice hardened and he swallowed. He couldn't possibly fathom leaving her behind now, she had become an integral part of the TARDIS and the idea was about as ludicrous as having all of the oxygen filtered out, so he wasn't entirely sure why he suddenly sounded as if he were trying to convince her of it. " This life, it's not safe Rose. Being with me, traveling, it's dangerous. You've got your whole life ahead of you, an entire future. Don't need to go cuttin' it short for no reason."

"Why are you acting like being on Earth would somehow guarantee my safety? I almost died the night we met. In fact, if you hadn't been there, I would have died. And forget about the aliens for a mo, I could die any day, any place or time. Car accident, sickness, I could choke to death or... or be murdered or somethin'."

He flinched at the idea of someone, another human being at that, ending this precious girl before him and instantly rejected the notion before looking up at her, into eyes that had sparked to life with anger and stubborn indignation. His hearts thrummed out another unsteady beat before constricting as his imagination whispered to him of that being stomped out.

"Rose..." His voice cracked, his tone heavy with something he didn't bother trying to hide. Not this night, not right now. The entire ordeal with the Dalek had cracked him open wide, stirred him up and broken open the carefully constructed box he had taken to stuffing his feelings into, especially the ones for this tiny little human who was so much more, so much-bigger, on the inside.

Or perhaps he hadn't done such a great job of hiding them after all. A Dalek, a creature created with nothing but the capacity to hate had so quickly called him out on it, its words ringing in his ears, over and over again.

The woman you love,

"But then I don't have to know about it." He whispered raggedly, suddenly unable to muster the will to contain it any longer and her eyes widened, slowly unfolding her arms and allowing them to hang limply at her sides. He didn't let himself think as he reached out for her and rested a hand on her hip, drawing her body so close that she was standing between his knees and from his seated position on the bed, had the perfect angle to bury his face in the soft cotton that covered her abdomen. "I wont ever have to lose you in that way, and Rose... I can't ever lose you like that."

His arms snaked up around her waist and he clung to her. "I can't ever be the one who gets you killed. I almost lost you today, Rose. I locked you away with that Dalek and left you to die. I would have been just as responsible for your death as it was."

Her body had tensed up with his action, but melted against him soon enough and her hands came up to rest against the back of his head and neck as he spoke. She was quiet for a while, beginning to gently stroke the close crop of his hair and he committed the sensation of her fingers to memory. He could feel the steady beat of her heart against his forehead, its rhythm steadily picking up pace the longer he stayed there and he heard her swallow. Her fingers trailed from the back of his head to his neck, following the line of his jaw until they rested just under his chin; she tilted his face up towards her.

Brown met blue as they stared at each other, into each other.

Time slowed around them as neither of them dared to blink.

There was something in her eyes that he couldn't possibly fathom.

They flickered gold.

His hearts reacted.

He stopped breathing.

Time stilled outside of her.

And then her lips met his.