Rose sat on the lounge, a cup of tea in her hand and a thoughtful frown on her face. She stirred the tea, which had long gone cold, absentmindedly as she stared off into space. She didn't even glance up when the Doctor sat down beside her and studied her expression. "Looks like some hard thinking going on there," he probed lightly.
Her gaze flickered to him for a moment, then found her lap again. "Care to share?" he finished.
"I've just been thinking," she began, setting her cup on the end table to her left and turning to face him, "there's so much about you that I don't know; so much you haven't told me. It's like, you know everything about me, but you, you're still such a mystery to me," she admitted.
He took her hands his and held them tenderly as he looked into her eyes. "What do you want to know?" he asked, his voice only a whisper.
He looked at her then, and he knew that, if she were to ask, at that moment, he would tell her anything. Everything. She saw him-his fear, how vulnerable he was, how terrified he was of her questions. She squeezed his hands and pulled her hands away from his. "We don't have to talk about it," she volunteered.
He stared at her a moment, admiration shining on his face. How she could see right into the deepest corners of his mind astounded him. "What did I ever do to deserve her?" he thought.
He smiled softly, once again taking her hand, "No, it's alright. What's your question?"
She looked up at him again to determine she was making the right choice in asking. Then, treading carefully, she spoke, "Earlier, you said you're a dad."
She felt him stiffen beside her and his grip tighten on her hand. He looked at his feet and uttered one word, "Was."
His face, though he tried very hard to hide it, showed his grief and Rose could only wish for her words back. "I'm so sorry," she whispered, leaning her head against his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him.
He took in a deep breath and released it slowly. "It's all right," he said softly, "go on."
She looked at him questioningly before continuing. "Were you married?" she asked, though the question seemed to her almost as painful as the answer did to him.
"I was, for a time, yes." he took another deep breath, "It didn't last long."
Rose looked up at him again, silently asking her next question. He simply shook his head, a pained expression on his face. To Rose, it was answer enough. "And the child?" she asked, by now afraid of the answer.
To her surprise, the Doctor smiled, a faraway look on his face. "She grew up, got married, had a child of her own." the frown returned, "That was before the war. They're gone now."
Her fingers traced his as she looked up to meet his gaze. "You really loved them, didn't you." she mused.
"I loved all of them; every one. They're all gone," he whispered, his voice cracking on the last word.
Rose looked at him, seeing the tears in his eyes, wishing she could take it all away. "I'm here," she said, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and guiding his head to rest on her shoulder. "I'll never leave you."
The Doctor wrapped his arms around her waist and let out a deep breath.
Eventually, she fell asleep, and he covered them with a blanket he found on the back of the lounge. When he woke the next morning he was uncomfortably warm and had quite the ache in his neck, but he looked at the blonde hair splayed across his chest and the fingers entwined with his, and he smiled.