This one is based "Sleep Alone" by Heart off the Passionworks album, in case you're wondering. Takes place at the end and immediately after "Doomsday." The actual song is more upbeat; I just went with a sort of angsty approach with the narrative.
In my opinion, this is not one of my best works, but I'll let you guys be the judge of that.
"Sleep Alone"
"Rose Tyler—"
Before the Doctor could finish his sentence, the hologram of him cut out and faded away. Rose, tears streaking down her cheeks, buried her face in her hands. Sobs racked her body. She was dimly aware of Jackie and Mickey coming up behind her to offer reassurance and lead her back to he car, but she didn't care. That was the last time she was ever going to see the Doctor. If he'd only had ten more seconds . . .
Rose couldn't help playing back the scene in her head.
"I love you," she'd said, voice breaking as she tried not to cry.
He'd smiled sadly. "Quite right, too. And I suppose this is my last chance to say it. Rose Tyler—"
God, what was she going to do without him? Suddenly, despite the fact her family was right there with her, Rose felt so lonely and empty.
At least now she knew what the Doctor had probably felt like after the Time War.
"Come on, luv," Jackie said softly, resting a hand on her daughter's shoulder. "Let's get you home."
But it isn't home, Rose wanted to shout. Not to me. To her, home was with the Doctor and his TARDIS. She didn't say anything, though, and let her mother lead her back to where the parallel Pete Tyler was waiting by the car.
The whole drive back from Bad Wolf Bay to the parallel Powell Estate, Rose was lost in memories of the Doctor.
She'd first met him back in the shop where she'd worked in downtown London. Rose had been cornered by living plastic mannequins that were trying to kill her when a hand had grabbed hers. Brilliant blue eyes bored into her own brown ones and a rough voice had said, "Run." OF course, he'd ended up blowing up the store—which was perfectly fine with Rose, since she'd hated working there anyway.
After she'd helped him defeat the Nestene Consciousness, she had decided to accompany him in the TARDIS. Since then she'd seen the end of the world, fought Gelth in Victorian Cardiff with Charles Dickens, stopped World War Three against the Slitheen with Harriet Jones (Prime Minister), faced gas mask zombies from the Blitz, seen more Daleks than she wanted to, destroyed the Dalek Emperor, and seen the Doctor regenerate. After that she'd seen Sycorax, a werewolf, met Sarah Jane Smith, been to the Olympics, battled Cybermen, and more. So much more—and along the way she'd fallen in love with him in both his forms. It had been a better life with the Doctor—she'd explained as much to her mum.
Who was going to hold his hand now? He was all alone, and she was stuck here with no way back. The gap between the universes had closed completely.
Before Rose knew it, they were pulling into the driveway of the Powell Estate. The drive had taken hours; but to her, lost in memories, it seemed to be no time at all.
Then again, time was just a big ball of wibbley-wobbley timey-whimey stuff. She'd learned that quickly after travelling with the Doctor.
Somehow, she made it to her room and crashed on the bed. Right now all she wanted to do was sleep, but she couldn't stop the tide of memories from coming in.
On their runs toward danger or back to the TARDIS, the Doctor would take her hand in his. Since his regeneration, there had definitely been more flirting than usual, and Rose had actually found herself enjoying it. For example, on Christmas, when he'd faced the Sycorax leader and gone into that speech about who he was, he'd asked "Am I sexy?" and winked at Rose. Then there was the time they'd attempted to land in 1950s America to see Elvis and he'd ridden out of the TARDIS on a motorped. "Ya going my way, doll?" It was so easy to fall for him again, and when he kicked on the charm and heated looks . . . it was nearly impossible for her to resist.
After their trip to Krop Tor, she'd had nightmares for days. Rose closed her eyes and let one particular memory drift to the surface.
"Rose!" There is a pounding on her bedroom door. "Rose, let me in!" The voice is frantic, scared, and even in the throes of her nightmare she knows it belongs to the Doctor.
She doesn't move. She can't.
Seconds later she hears the buzz of the sonic screwdriver and the door bursts open. She opens her eyes to see a disheveled and very concerned Doctor standing in the doorway, who is instantly crossing the room to her bed.
"Rose, what is it?" he asks. "What's wrong?"
She shrinks back, avoiding his intense gaze. "Nightmare," she whispers. "The Beast . . . and you were . . ." Her voice trails off, and she swallows hard past the lump of fear in her throat.
A reassuring smile plays at his mouth. "I'm here now, Rose," the Doctor says, right hand reaching out for hers. Instead of grabbing it, she wraps her arms around him and buries her face in the cool skin of his neck.
"Hold me, Doctor, please."
She tightens her hold on him as his hands come around her to press against her back. Rose feels the cool gently pressure through the flimsy material of her tank top, and she wants them even closer than that.
"Take me, Doctor," her voice begs before she realizes she's spoken. "Take me away, just for a little while." Her hands slide from his neck to his shirt front, already undoing the buttons there.
His body tenses, and she sees the inner battle raging in his eyes. Then his hands are tugging her top over her head and her eager, willing body is beneath his as his weight presses her to the bed.
Already she is so hot even though there's one tiny spot inside her that's freezing cold. Wanting to fill that hole, and chase away the demons for a while, Rose gives him everything.
Rose dragged herself out of the memory, eyes snapping open. How could she have forgotten about that night? Even though it was only for comfort, or so she'd told herself, he'd done everything right, coaxing secrets out of her body so many times, easily.
When morning had come, he was already gone.
Even as her body remembered his kisses, his touches, Rose's mind shrank back from the memories. Yes, she'd slept in her own room on the TARDIS and the Doctor spent the night either in the library or tinkering with his timeship, but it wasn't the same as the situation she was now in. On the TARDIS, she knew the Doctor was nearby. Now, with the rift between the universes sealed off . . .
Rose had a feeling she would have a hard time falling asleep tonight. A line from a song by Heart played in her head, summing up exactly how she felt: One more night she's on her own. Nobody meant to sleep alone. . . .
-oOo-
The next few days, in an effort to distract herself, Rose throw herself into her work at the parallel Torchwood. Part of the reason for that was Jackie: Her mother had insisted that keeping busy would have her mind occupied and help her cope with the loss.
Nights were a different story. At night, when she couldn't sleep, she tossed and turned in bed, trapped in memories and dreams of the Doctor. Other times she would wander the halls of the parallel Pete Tyler's mansion. Even after weeks and months of living here she was still discovering new passageways. Her favorite one led to the huge library with a fireplace. No wonder it was her favorite: It reminded her of the Doctor's library in the TARDIS.
None of it helped. Deep in her subconscious, Rose knew she wouldn't be satisfied until she found a way back to the Doctor.
Currently, Rose was browsing the library's shelves while everyone else in the manor was asleep. Her trailing index finger rested on a book entitled A Journal of Impossible Things. Intrigued, she pulled it out.
The glossy brown cover showed a silver watch—maybe a fob watch—inscribed with circular script she recognized instantly—Gallifreyan. Without bothering to read the blurb on the inside jacket flap, Rose turned to the first page and began to read, settling herself in a posh leather armchair by the fire.
To her surprise, there were drawings: pictures of the TARDIS, a Dalek, Slitheen, a page with ten different faces—those must have been the Doctor's previous incarnations; she instantly recognized his former and current faces—and . . .one of her. According to the book, when the Doctor had been human, he'd dreamed about her.
Well. Okay, then.
But then again, she was doing the same about him, every single night.
No matter how hard she tried, Rose couldn't forget about the Doctor. And she was addicted to the memories of him; the thought of finding him again was all that was keeping her going.
Setting the book aside, she gazed into the fire, recalling another night in a very similar library.
Days after the incident in her room, after yet another adrenaline-filled rush back to the TARDIS, they had decided to curl up with a couple good books in the library. With her body hopped up on adrenaline and pheromones, everything the Doctor did was distracting her from her book.
Then she'd decided to take matters into her own hands, and well, the Doctor certainly hadn't protested. Quite the opposite, in fact. He'd ruined her for any other men, she was sure. The rush, the way her body responded to him, was intoxicating, addicting.
Rose groaned quietly. Now she was never going to sleep.
This was going to be a very long night.
Lonely woman gets so cold
With no loverboy to hold.
One more night she's on her own.
Nobody meant to sleep alone.