A/N: This is something I just sort of there together all at once. It's an idea that's been itching at me since the finale of season 4 and I just needed to get it written. It's kind of sloppy because of that, so any and all criticism is welcome. Thanks. Enjoy!

Summary: While lying in bed, early one morning with Ten II, Rose's mind wanders back to the man she lost and the life she now has to lead even if it feel like she's playing a part. Even if she's just playing house.

This is the game called playing house

We're all screaming cause no one's getting out

This is the game called playing house

The soft light of the moon filtered on the breeze through the open window, tinting the room a strange, pale blue. Rose lay on her side, staring out at the stars. She liked waking up before the sun, savored the moments of silence when she was allowed to think without worrying he'd read her thoughts. He was always so good at that, reading her thoughts and emotions as though they were written across her face. But if thoughts were words, she was still learning his language. He was always surprising her. Just when she thought she had him pinned, he'd say something, do something, and she'd be lost again.

But that wasn't really his fault. Rose was fully aware that her inability to read him had nothing to do with him; he didn't hide anything from her. It had to do with the things she was looking for. When Rose studied his face, she wasn't searching for him, not really. She was searching for the man she used to know; a man who was now a whole universe, a whole reality away. Unreachable.

If she was being completely honest, he was the reason she loved being awake before the sun. When the room was still dark and the silence heavy, she could stare out the open window at the stars and pretend she could see him. Her doctor. She knew, from all her research in trying to get back to his dimension, that he could be out there right there, right where she was looking- in another reality. He could be standing next to her. He could be close enough to touch, and the thought made her feel even more alone. He could be so close, but he would never again be close enough.

Rose bit her lip, feeling the familiar guilt settle itself in her stomach. She shouldn't be thinking of things like this. Not with him lying beside her; not with his breath filling the silence of the room. This was her doctor now. She turned to face him, propping herself up to look at him. It was when he was sleeping that he looked the most like a stranger to her. It had taken a lot of work to get him to look this peaceful. Born from war, the doctor had said. Too destructive for his universe. It's not easy to get a man born from war to sleep peacefully. There were nightmares for the longest time. Terrible, screaming nightmares she'd have to tear him out of. He refused to tell her about most of them, even now. He claimed it was because he'd rather forget them, that he didn't want to bring it all up again. But she knew the real reason. He didn't want her to know the things that could wake a man with the mind of a Timelord from his sleep. He didn't want her to know the things he'd done. Not that he had actually done any of those things, but he remembered them nevertheless.

It had been awful seeing him like that, but now that it was over, Rose found herself missing the chaos. A screaming Doctor was more familiar to her than this man. Eyes closed, the lines in his forehead relaxed to nonexistence. She didn't know him when he was like this. It was harder to pretend, harder to forget that he wasn't her Doctor.

Most people couldn't see the change when he was awake. He looked like the Doctor, sounded like the Doctor, had similar fashion sense. But he was different. He moved differently, used phrases she wasn't familiar with. There was something new, something foreign in his smile. He'd explained it all to her once. That he carried some of that woman, Donna her name was, in him. That some of her personality, her life, had been transferred into him. Rose had told him it didn't matter. He didn't believe her, she knew, but it was nice to pretend. So they pretended. It was like a game of house when she was a kid. Now you play like you're the Doctor and I'll play like I love you.

She knew she wasn't being fair. But since when was anything in life ever fair? You play the hand your dealt and you hope it's enough. If it's not, you bluff. Pretend you've got everything you could possibly want and, if you can pretend long enough, eventually you'll start to believe it. She needed to start believing it. More than anything in the world she needed to start believing it because she hated this feeling. Hated looking down at him and not knowing him. Hated how she could smile, and kiss him, and laugh with him and feel nothing. She hated pretending. But it was a game. And games must be played.

The show must go on. May the best actor win. The prize? The ultimate role: yourself. If she could just play the part long enough, it would become her. Or she would become it. She had to.

The sun was starting to rise, changing the color of the room from blue to a gentle purple that was becoming more and more pink with every breath she took. Rose watched his face, this Doctor's face that was so familiar and yet so alien at the same time. It was strange that she would think of him like that now. Now that he was finally human; now that he was finally hers. She sighed, a sad longing taking the place of guilt in her chest. Slowly she lowered herself down as the sun rose. Laying her head on his chest, she closed her eyes and listened to the silence where a second heart used to beat.

This is the game that we've been told that we will play

And if we play it long enough

it will surely go away