They're on their way to try what the Doctor swears is the best tea in the entire universe when the Tardis gives a sudden lurch. Rose, halfway down the stairs to the console room, glances outside.

What.

Tentacles, like those of a giant octopus, wrap around the Tardis, pulling it in towards- well, she can't quite see what they're moving towards, but she suspects she's not going to like it.

"No no no no no-" The Doctor dashes around, mashing buttons, tugging at levers. "-come on, we can't have that-"

"Doctor? What's going on?"

He looks up, but suddenly frowns as if to say 'I can't believe you did that,' a hand going to the side of his head. "It knows you're here. Not good. In fact, very bad."

Rose felt beside herself with frustration. "What's not good?"

A sudden hissing sound filled the room. The Doctor pointed to the white cloud of gas seeping in from under the Tardis's door. "That."

Before Rose could move, he grabbed her by the shoulders, his expression intent. "Rose, listen to me. Whatever happens, whatever they tell you, you've got to remember. Give yourself clues, anything- just, none of it is real."

"None of what?" The gas smelled like lavender, like her quilt at home. She felt like she could fall asleep and never wake up, and focusing on the Doctor's face took considerable effort.

"This," the Doctor choked, and then everything went white-

"Rose, sweetie, are you all right?" Her mum, leaning over her, concerned. "I nearly had a heart attack! You should sue for damages- I bet you're entitled to a million at least, we could do with a bit of spare cash, pay for your medical treatment and all…"

Rose looked at the cast enclosing her right arm. Get well soon, Rose, somebody had scrawled on it in neon permanent marker. "What?"

"The shop, it exploded, you could've died," Shareen babbled, giving Rose a hug. "Don't you remember anything?"

Rose leaned back against the pillows, feeling strangely disappointed. "No," she said. "I don't."

There aren't many jobs that Rose can do with a broken arm- or that many jobs that'll hire her without one, either. So she spends a lot of time at home, watching the telly. For some reason, despite her usual optimistic attitude, she feels sad and empty all the time, as if she'd forgotten something extremely important. Life's just so… dull. What do other people know, that they can be happy and content when she hasn't figured out how?

The strangest things make her cry. Travel shows, especially ones on the capital of Spain. Documentaries on the solar system. The movie E.T. Her phone has numbers she doesn't recognize in the address book, and

Mickey kisses her and she doesn't feel anything. When he slides a hand under her top, she pulls away.

"Listen, Mickey- I dunno, it just doesn't feel right- I'm sorry, I really am."

One day, the telly brings her a show about space travel. The broadcasters show a picture of the Earth from space, a tiny globe surrounded by stars. So vulnerable and isolated, and yet so colorful and alive, the endless pinpoints of light spiraling out towards eternity-

Rose buries her head in her hands and flat-out bawls.

"Rose, we've called nine-one-one." Shareen and Mum stand over her. When did they get here?

She looks up, rubbing away tears. "Why?"

"It's not normal to be crying all the time like this. You should, I don't know, go on antidepressants, start therapy."

The funny thing is, Rose thinks, she doesn't feel like she's the abnormal one. It's more like everyone else. Their concern, the unspoken statement that she can't keep it together, can't take care of herself, kind of gets on her nerves. "What, you think I'm sick in the head? Think I need to see a doctor or something like-"

Oh.

Oh.

Laughing, she springs to her feet. She feels fizzy and tingly and altogether alive, even though the walls seem so unreal as to wobble under her gaze. She's not sure if she can make it to the front door, but she could sprint through a mountain if necessary. Mum and Shareen's heads elongate, making them look like hammerhead sharks. Their eyes turn red, but Rose, this Rose, is used to running away from things. Furniture crashes behind her. She sprints to the front door, yanks it open-

And the world goes white.

"Oi, Rose! Can you hear me?"

Tardis med-bay… thingy. Four legs- table, that's it, table! Under her head. Smooth, cold, and definitely not a pillow. Her mouth feels like a stray cat went to the loo in it, her limbs feel like overcooked pasta, and the less said about her headache, the better.

"I'm sleeping on a table," she manages. Prying an eyelid open, she squints into the light. Ouch.

The Doctor exhales, half-audible tension draining from his limbs. "Rose," he says, admonishment and worship simultaneously.

"Why'm I… why'm I sleeping on a table? There was, you know, a fog, a very foggy fog-" and she can't help it, she starts laughing. A strange, half-lucid euphoria has entered her, as if making up for the bleakness of the- days? Months?- before.

Leather shifts as he nods. "Space scavengers. It's this gas they use, traps anyone who inhales it in their dullest memories- death by ennui, so to speak. People kill themselves in their dreams, or-" He squeezes her hand, and his thumb moves in circles over her palm. "I forgot it wouldn't be outlawed for another twenty years," he says, his voice serious and low. "Right, then-"

Somehow, he manages to pull a quilt over her without letting go of her hand. "Better?"

"Yeah," Rose murmurs, pulling the warm fabric tighter around her with her free arm. Hurrah for not shivering anymore- at least she's just a bit shaky, which still feels unnerving, but at least slightly less unpleasant. "How long was I out for?"

"Around two days. I managed to get an IV in you, but it's more of a neurotoxin- messes up your body's response to just about everything."

"No wonder I thought Mum's lasagna was trying to poison me," she mutters, receiving an almost-chuckle in return. "Can I have… " The rest of the sentence practically jumps into her mouth without conscious thought. "…two pints of ice cream and about a kilo of chocolate sauce?"

"As you wish." He unlaces their fingers and heads for the door-

"No, wait." Rose pushes herself up onto an elbow, ignoring her pounding head, because everything in her refuses to let him out of her sight. "I forgot about you. I was back at home, didn't have a job, aliens didn't exist, and it was pointless and- and awful. And I missed you. So don't go anywhere, all right?"

"That was your hallucination? I wasn't in it?"

She shook her head."Why, did you think I'd get bored of you?"

His expression says more than words would.

"I wouldn't," she says, answering her own rhetorical question, grinning at him.

"Good," he says, grinning back. "'Cause I don't think I'd ever get bored of you, either."

"Ice cream," Rose demands, not even trying to conceal a laugh.

He scoops her up in his arms, and they head for the door.