And The Doctor wakes, gasping for breath.
There was no way in hell that he was going to get any more sleep that night. Every time he closed his eyes to try, the image of a cybernised Rose kept on popping back up; it seemed to be burnt into the back of his eyelids. He tried one last time to sleep, failed, and finally conceded defeat. He knew it was fruitless; even if he was tired (after all, even Time Lords needed to sleep, even if not so much as humans), he could do without having to go through that particular dream of Rose again, thankyouverymuch.
They were still in London, had been for the last few days since he'd brought Rose back to her mother after the nightmare that had been the parallel universe. He shuddered, involuntarily, at the reminder. Rose had taken Mickey's departure harder than he had thought she would; he wondered, off-and-on, whether her "father"'s rejection of her minutes before that had had anything to do with it. He suspected it was a factor, but how large was anybody's guess – and he wasn't about to cause Rose any more hurt by asking her and bringing the subject up again. She would tell him in her own time if there was anything she wanted him to know, he was certain of it.
Rassilon, he needed to see her; needed to prove to himself (again) that she was all right, that she had not been cybernised, that he had not lost her.
He knew he was behaving completely irrationally but at the moment he couldn't care less. She was the most important thing at the moment and he couldn't rest until he'd satisfied himself that she was all right. With that thought uppermost in his mind, he got up off his bed and changed out of his nightclothes back into the familiar brown pinstripes. Feeling slightly more confident already (it's amazing what clothes can do for you, isn't it? he thought), he proceeded to pretty much bounce his way towards the Control Room and the TARDIS doors. (Bouncing? Rose didn't call him Tigger-like for nothing, after all.)
He was out of the TARDIS and into Jackie's front room faster than – well, faster than most things. He would probably have to move the TARDIS if they were going to stay for much longer; Jackie was many things, but patient about large police telephone boxes in her front room she was not. Putting the TARDIS to the back of his mind for the present, he tried to remember which of the rooms in the flat belonged to Rose; for the first time he found himself cursing the fact that he came back so rarely.
The first door he opened led him into the bathroom. Useful to know, he thought, but not what I'm after just at the minute. He closed the door as quietly as he could, and then moved on to the next one. Opening it just as quietly as he had closed the previous one, he slipped inside and used the light from the estate outside (plus his sonic screwdriver) to ascertain that this must be Jackie's room. The picture on the night stand of Jackie and Pete on their wedding day was enough to convince him and he left the room and closed the door, trying to make as little noise as possible – which for him wasn't easy. The next door, opposite Jackie's, turned out to be the kitchen. The Doctor looked longingly at the jar of marmalade on the kitchen table for a moment or two before turning away and going towards the only door he hadn't opened, which had to be Rose's room, if only by a process of elimination.
The door to Rose's room was, surprisingly, not quite closed. He pushed it open far enough to let himself in before closing it silently behind him and using his sonic screwdriver to lock the door. He wasn't planning any "funny business", but that didn't mean he wanted Jackie interrupting him.