She was awoken by the recognisable smell of bananas and waffles wafting through her cracked door. Rolling onto her stomach and snuggling further down into her pink duvet, she inhaled deeply and stretched, furrowing her brow and trying to push away the urge to curl back into the warmth of her bed and succumb to sleep. The smell of cooking caught her attention again, and she sat up, confused but smiling as a warm feeling swept throughout her. She blinked away her sleepiness, and pushed her tangled blond hair out of her face, gathering herself for another moment before abandoning the warmth of her bed. Dressed in the plaid top and blue pyjama trousers she had worn to sleep, she slid on her well worn but comfortable pink slippers and headed out in search of the kitchen.

The corridors were long and short and left and right: rarely in the same place as before, and always leading somewhere different. However, this proved to be no trouble for the young woman, even as she padded about half asleep. Things like this were the norm, and she'd been living here for quite a while now: all she really had to do was think of where she wanted to go, and the TARDIS would arrange itself to lead her there. Half asleep or not, she found the kitchen within a short, minute long trek, the smell of waffles strengthening and making her stomach growl. She hadn't realised she was this hungry—the last time she ate was at a luncheon at the Conference Ball of the Leggiero, where she had somehow afterwards managed to get herself abducted and rescued four times within twenty minutes before making a final escape hand in hand with-

'Rose!'

She smiled as she rounded the corner into the kitchen, amused at the sight of a wiry man in pinstripes dashing around, batter smeared on his face and a pink apron tied at his back. She held back the urge to laugh as the man pushed a set of glasses further up on his nose, and leaving a rather large blob of a thick but runny brown mixture in its wake. He smiled dumbly, either not noticing or not caring.

'Doctor... what's this, then? Since when d'you cook?' She asked, eyeing him warily and stepping further into the room to lean against the disastrously dirty counter that the Time Lord stood behind.

His eyebrows shot up and disappeared above his hairline, feigning indignance as he whirled around and busied himself with something out of Rose's view. 'Oi! Be fair, Rose. Been around for a while, I have. I think I know how to cook. Well...' he turned back around slowly, hesitantly presenting to her a plate of pathetically flattened waffles, 'maybe not very well, but...' He grimaced at Rose and sniffed at one before taking a bite. The waffle broke off with effort, and crunched miserably in his mouth. His face scrunched and his eyes bulged, and he spit the food back out onto the plate. 'Lets um... let's not eat these...' he mumbled as he slid the plate into the rubbish bin underneath the counter, running a batter-smeared hand through his unruly hair.

Rose broke into a fit of giggles, covering her face with her hands, and the Doctor's horrified expression softened. He smiled at her, tongue between his teeth. 'Those were waffles, then? Are you sure you know what you're doing?' She asked him, smiling wryly and her arms folded.

The Doctor scoffed and shrugged, 'oh sure, of course! I mean...' he sniffed. 'Just added a bit too much sodium bicarbonate is all,'

'You what?'

'I...' he frowned, 'I added too much baking powder...' He rubbed his hands on the front of his apron, a serious expression set on his face. As soon as it had appeared though, he brightened back up with ten times the enthusiasm as before, bouncing back to the bowl of leftover batter. 'Still, though! I can fix it! I just need to add more of everything else! Then viola! Tasty waffles!'

Rose shook her head, laughing, 'how much baking powder did you put in?'

'Oh, about one-fourth cup,' he waved his hand casually.

'What? Doctor! Did you even follow the directions? I don't know if these are some kind of special alien waffles or somefin', but on my planet we only use about three teaspoons.'

'Oi! Time Lords don't need recipes, Rose Tyler!'

She leaned towards the Doctor, aghast, ' yeah, but how many bloody waffles are we gonna end up with?'

The Doctor grinned madly and winked, causing her to smile equally as wide. 'Oh, lots of waffles, Tyler. Lots and lots of waffles.' His gaze flashed to a stack of bananas on the counter and back to Rose, but not so quick that she didn't notice.

'Want to make that lots and lots of banana waffles?' she asked, crooking an eyebrow and watching as the Doctor's eyes widened with excitement.

'Oh yes, let's,' he walked around the counter and grabbed her by both arms, gently but eagerly pulling her back towards where he was working before, not breaking eye contact. 'Now Rose, I know I said I don't need a recipe—which is true, by the way. Time Lord, me. I don't need a recipe book, I've got about a couple hundred or so recipe books from Earth alone memorised anyway, word for word and...' he shook his head, realising he was rambling. ' Anyway. No recipe. But I could certainly use an extra set of hands,' he all but begged her.

Rose giggled, ' 'course I'll help! As if you had to even ask,' she rolled her eyes.

' Okay then, miss Tyler,' he spun her around by her shoulders and nudged her towards the TARDIS' refrigerator. 'We're going to need a lot of eggs.'

'How many?' she asked over her shoulder, opening the fridge. The shelves were lined with odd alien foods amongst an absurd number of jars of marmalade, and... a pair of shoes? 'Doctor what are...' she held the shoes out to him, perplexed.

'Oh. Put those back...' he said, seriously, danger in his voice.

Rose blinked, startled, and placed the old looking Oxfords where she had gotten them. She turned to face the Doctor, wringing her hands anxiously. 'Good?'

The Doctor's expression softened, and he smiled, 'Yes, brilliant. Just don't want those shoes to start walking around yeah? We need lots of eggs, I don't know. Try... ten?

'Ten?' she squeaked, surprised. ' Wait, wait, hold on. What about these shoes? They sentient of somefin?' she glanced at them, alarmed.

'Welllll... something like that. I wouldn't say sentient exactly... but they do walk and kick about, if that's what you're asking. But they can't be in temperatures lower than 3o Celsius, the inner mechanics of them sort of... melt.'

'They... melt...'

'Yup! Interesting, innit? Clever little buggers. Well.. I say clever. Anyway. They survive extreme hot temperatures by reversing their melting points. In the heat they thrive, in the cold they melt. Very complicated biology behind it but...' he lost himself in thought for a bit, before picking up again, '...anyway. That's why they're in the fridge. Any warmer and their inner workings would solidify and we'd be in trouble. For shoes with nobody inside them, they sure can kick hard,' he unconsciously rubbed his backside, frowning.

Rose absorbed this new information, fascinated and slightly weirded out. 'Okay... that's... definitely different...' she eyed the shoes, wary. 'Did... did you say ten eggs?'

'Yes sir, that I did!' the Doctor replied cheerily, retrieving other ingredients.

Rose grabbed the carton of eggs and returned to the counter, eyeing the piles of things the Doctor had gathered that would need to be added to the mixture. 'Doctor, I fink we might need a bigger bowl... this is hardly going to fit.'

'Have a bit of faith, Rose! Time Lord, again, need I remind you? Bowl's bigger on the inside!' He beamed, carrying over a bag of flour.

'No way. I'm not fallin' for that one,'

'What do you mean? It's true!'

'Doctor, no, it's not. You can't tell me that this bowl,' she gestured to the already overflowing dish, 'is bigger on the inside. It's barely holding what it's got in it now!'

The Doctor frowned and ripped a hole in the top of the unopened bag of flour. 'Don't believe me then? Watch this.' He playfully bumped Rose out of the way with his shoulder, and raised the bag over the bowl, making sure Rose was watching. He grinned at her mischievously, waiting for her reaction. When her eyes widened in realisation and horror, he flipped the bag upside down before she could say anything against it, and flour poured instantly into the bowl, around it, on the floor, and in massive clouds of powdered dust. It took a moment for the airborne flour to settle back down, and once it had done so, the Doctor studied Rose's expression. She was staring at him in horror, absolutely covered in white powder. It had gathered in her hair and in patches on her face, and her clothes would definitely need cleaning. He smiled nervously, waiting for her response; waiting for her to either laugh or deliver one of her famous Tyler-smacks she'd inherited from her mother.

In just a moments time of heavy silence, both she and the Doctor coated in flour and staring at each other expectantly, her mouth cracked into a crooked smile. The Doctor followed suit, and they were soon shaking with laughter, hanging onto each other and the counter to stay standing upright. They caught their breath, still holding each other for support, smiling stupidly and watching the other's face as they calmed back down. Ripples of giggles passed between them like aftershocks, and they pulled away from each other.

The Doctor cleared his throat, still with a crooked smile, and shook his head like a wet dog, powder flying off and drifting to his shoulders and the floor.

Rose watched him, incredulous. 'You're mad. And absolutely covered in flour.' She ran her fingers through his hair, shaking some more of the powder out, and he leaned into her touch, giggling. 'What are you doing? 'M trying to get this stuff out, you're not helping any,' she complained, smiling in amusement.

'Sorry! This scalp is sensitive... you're going to make me fall asleep...' He hummed in appreciation and leaned forwards, eyes drooping and smiling contentedly.

'Oh! I thought you didn't sleep?' She removed her hands from his hair and he sagged a bit, frowning before standing back up, pouting.

''Course I sleep! Just not often. And look at you, you're just as covered in the stuff!' He ran his eyes up and down her figure, noting how the powder contrasted with the pink tinge of her cheeks. 'I don't know about you but I'm not so much in the mood for waffles any more... fancy a banana though?' He plucked two bananas off the cluttered tabletop, one for both of them, and waggled his eyebrows.

Rose smiled, nodding, 'sure. First we should clean up this mess, though...'

The Doctor groaned. 'Aagh. I wish I'd have thought of that,' his eyes ghosted over the mess before them. He frowned, and bore his eyes into Rose's, playing at ignorance. 'Hm. Mess? What mess? I think you need your eyes checked, Rose Tyler. I see no mess here. Nothing we'd have to clean, you know.'

Rose laughed, humoured, 'Doctor, pretending it isn't there won't get rid of it. It's still got to be...' she stopped, brows furrowing. She looked around momentarily, confused.

'What is it?' the Doctor asked her, 'you've just realised that there is in fact no mess to clean, yeah? It was all in your silly human head. Maybe our visit to Leggiero yesterday was a bit much—you should still be resting up,' He joked, waggling his eyebrows. When she held out a hand for him to be quiet and didn't reciprocate in his banter, he frowned. Curious, he followed her line of eyesight and listened closely, trying to pick up on whatever she was. 'What is it, Rose?'

A moment more of silence, and Rose shook her head, unsure. 'I dunno... I just... got this strange feelin', like...' she drifted off mid sentence again, focusing on the silence that had fallen around them, 'No... it was nuffin. I just... I think I'm hungry,' she laughed, grabbing for one of the bananas that the Doctor held loosely in his grasp.

The Doctor studied her expression warily as she dug at the stem of her banana, but soon the moment was forgotten. 'Rose, Rose wait, wait stop. You're doing it wrong!'

She shot him a disbelieving glance. 'What do you mean? I've opened bananas this way my entire life. Me and every one else on Earth.'

'Yeah, and you've all been doing it wrong. Honestly, you lot think you're so clever, when you can't even open a banana proper. Look,' he held his banana out to her, and showed her how to open it, squeezing the bottom end until it split, and peeling it apart.

Rose watched, amazed. 'You mean... oh my god. I didn't... that's... where did...' She floundered, confused.

'You know, if people thought less of themselves as completely superior, then maybe they'd learn a thing or two. Monkeys, Rose. Monkeys know how to open bananas properly. They've always done it this way.' He rocked back and forth on his feet, chuckling to himself in amusement, and watched as Rose followed his lead, opening her banana the 'proper' way.

She laughed, completely thrilled, and took a bite. 'You know, next time I go home to see mum, I'm definitely going to have to show her how to...' the lights suddenly flickered and died, causing her sentence to die with them. She and the Doctor both stood in complete darkness, silence enveloping them. Reassuring herself that he was still there, she groped around in the darkness and grabbed onto his sleeve, and he returned the gesture by gently grasping her wrist. 'What's happened, then?' she asked, concern in her voice.

'I don't know...' he said warily, she could feel his hold on her wrist tighten slightly, and he held his breath. 'The emergency lights should have kicked on by now...' he said to himself, not moving.

Rose could hear the soft thud of a banana as he set it on where the table ought to be, and she followed suit. In an instant, a dim glow lit the kitchen that seemed to radiate from the floor itself, underneath the grating.

'Ah, there we go. Good ol' emergency lighting, eh?' He smiled, and began walking slowly in the still dim lighting, guiding Rose behind him. He readjusted so their fingers were intertwined, and led her towards the corridor.

'What do you think happened?' Rose asked, curious, trying to hide the twinge of fear in her voice.

'I really can't say. I'll have to get to the console room first before...' he stopped suddenly, his dimly lit figure almost ominous in the poor lighting.

'Doct-'

'Shhhhh...,' he placed a finger to his lips, and crept slowly forwards.

The small twinge of fear in Rose's gut had now evolved into barely stifled alarm, her heart beating rapidly. What was going on? Why would the Doctor need her to be quiet, and why were the lights off? Something was seriously not right.

As if in answer to her questions, the room rocked violently to the side, the floor shaking, causing both Rose and the Doctor to lose their footing. They clung tightly to each other's hands, but the room began swirling violently—the floor was where the wall should be, then around again, and the awkward movement was tossing both of them around like rags in a washing machine.

Before Rose could realise it, the floor was no longer underneath her. She was falling up, but not really. The room had flipped entirely, and now she was plummeting to the ceiling. The room flipped around again, and she hit hard against the wall instead, cracking her head against it quite painfully. Going fuzzy for a moment, she could feel her hand go cold in absence of the Doctors, and she heard shouting but couldn't quite tell where from. It sounded like it was in her head and all round her, and her head hurt and she was confused and all of a sudden very tired and...

The Doctor winced when he heard Rose's head hit the wall. This should not be happening, whatever was going on. He watched as she almost instantly went unconscious, and tried talking to her to get her to wake up. When she didn't respond he let go of her hand and held her close to his chest, trying to protect her from the thrashing of the ship. He yelled desperately for the TARDIS to stop, pleading to get himself and Rose out of the danger that he didn't yet understand. He clung to Rose tightly, a hand on the back of her head, as they were thrown about. All the ingredients from the waffles they had failed to make flew around angrily, eggs pelting; bowls and plates smashing.

Though it was dark and disorienting, the Doctor could tell when the ship had stopped shaking—leaving him lying on his back on the ceiling. He waited, anxiously; with his superior time-sense he counted the seconds... one... two... three... His stomach flipped as the room once again righted itself, and he began falling the thirty feet to the floor. Again, he counted the seconds, waiting for the impact, and flipped mid-air so that he wouldn't crush Rose when they landed. He held onto her tightly, and waited for the sickening thud of Time Lord hitting metal grating.