Based on a prompt from Timepetalsprompts "What happens when Rose goes sleepwalking? They're not on the TARDIS." (I admit, they actually are on the TARDIS for some of this fic... but it still involves Rose sleepwalking.)
Post "The Christmas Invasion", Rose and the Doctor need to come to terms with the ramifications of his regeneration.
Writing this fic was another of those strange experiences for me, where the fic was written relatively quickly, in basically one go. (I did sleep a little bit in there, though.) And it is not my usual style of writing, but I kinda like the way it turned out. I hope you enjoy.
Night Terrors and Solitude
Rose was no stranger to night terrors. There were many nights when she awoke screaming, her mind filled with panic and monsters and no hand to hold.
But he had always heard her cries and held her close to his throbbing hearts until she had quieted. He would stay by her side, stroking her sweat-damp hair until she was able to sleep again. She would drift off with the comfort of his scent, leather and tea and time, filling the air around her.
He had always been able to see through the tough, estate-girl façade that she presented to the rest of the universe. He had understood all too well how she managed to hold her fears at bay while she was fighting by his side to make a difference… one person, one planet, one galaxy at a time. She suspected he had recognized that she couldn't supress her anxieties indefinitely, that they would explode out through her dreams when her guard was down.
And so he had always stayed nearby.
But now he was different: all pin-stripes and gorgeous hair and nervous energy.
She stayed in her mum's flat in those days after Christmas. There were several nights when she awoke with the screams caught in her throat, her mind filled with dread and Sycorax and no second chances.
But he had stayed in the TARDIS, making repairs to the time ship. And so he never heard her cries. She lay awake for hours in the darkness, finding no comfort in the stillness surrounding her, until she drifted off into restless slumber.
One morning she awoke strangely refreshed, with the comfort of his scent, leather and tea and time, filling the air around her. She found she was lying on her bed in the TARDIS, wearing his old leather jacket.
The Doctor was no stranger to being alone. Most nights since Christmas dinner he worked below the TARDIS console, repairing and hiding and longing for a hand to hold.
He wondered if she still wanted him to help her fall asleep after her nightmares seized her. He knew all too well the terror that dreams could bring and the comfort that her single throbbing heart could bestow on him. He could sleep when she was near with dreams of tongue-tipped smiles and cheeky remarks and "There's me."
She had always been able to see through the brash veneer he presented to the universe. She understood all too well the vulnerabilities he concealed while he was fighting by her side to make a difference… one person, one planet, one galaxy at a time. He suspected she knew that he struggled to protect her from himself, from the darkness in his soul that loomed just below the surface and haunted his dreams when his guard was down.
And so she always stayed nearby.
But now he was different: all renewed energy and pretty-boy and no second chances.
He remained in the TARDIS and tinkered and sometimes tried to sleep, to heal. But every time, he would awake screaming, his mind filled with the fall of Arcadia and exterminate and "I want you safe, my Doctor."
But she had chosen to stay in the flat with her mum. And so she never heard his cries. He sat in solitude for hours, longing for the comfort of her presence, until he found the energy to work below the console once more.
One night he lifted his head to see her walk through the TARDIS doors and his hearts trembled with relief that she was here. But she never looked his way. Glassy-eyed she glided past him, and he couldn't help but briefly fear that the Sycorax were controlling her. But, he reasoned with the rational parts of his mind, the parts that weren't consumed with the fear of losing her, that she was simply walking in her sleep.
He called out to her, and was saddened by her hollow gaze, incognizant of who he was. And so he followed her silent trek through the TARDIS corridors, curious and protective and every bit as vulnerable as she was.
In confusion, he watched her enter the wardrobe room and begin an endless quest through the racks of clothes. She paused to touch a ridiculously long scarf, to gently finger a green velvet frock coat, to smooth the wrinkles in a red-trimmed cricket jacket. The tears welled in his eyes when he realized what she was searching for, and he retrieved it for her from its place where he had secreted it, in the deepest, darkest parts of the room.
His tear-choked voice wavered as he offered her the battered leather jacket. "Is this what you're looking for?"
Her hands curled around the coat and she pulled it close to her, burying her nose in the leather and sighing. She closed her vacant eyes, and a smile of contentment blossomed over her lips.
He tugged the coat from her grip, despairing at her sudden panic over its loss, and placed it over her shoulders. Her arms disappeared inside the sleeves, and the coat hung loose around her body, dangling to just above her knees. She hugged the leather around her, armor to protect her from her dreams.
He picked her up, cradling her close to him, pressing kisses to her golden crown as he carried her to her TARDIS bedroom. She was properly asleep by the time he gently set her on the bed and pulled the covers up around her.
Rose turned over to find that she wasn't alone. He was sound asleep facing her, an arm stretched out across the sheets between them. For a moment her heart leaped to her throat, terrified that he might have relapsed into a regenerative coma. She brushed the fringe from his eyes with furtive fingertips, and sighed her relief when he responded to her touch with a soft smile.
She bent over him to place a chaste kiss to his forehead and she breathed him in. And to her surprise, he had a familiar, comforting scent: tea, and time, and something new and soothing that she had yet to name.
She sat up and tugged the collar of the jacket toward her nose and inhaled. She closed her eyes in pleasure at the memories that the scent evoked, then eased the jacket from her shoulders and with reverent care set it on the chair beside the bed. She touched her finger tips to her lips then transferred the farewell kiss to the worn leather with a tender touch.
Lying down next to him again, she studied the face in front of her before nestling her head against his shoulder. And as his arm wrapped around her, embracing her, she entwined his hand with hers. He was still him, her Doctor. And she knew she would always sleep well while he was near and that he would never need to feel alone while he had her hand to hold.