As mentioned in the summary, this fic was written as I was listening to the song Safe and Sound by Taylor Swift (if you want a treat, go to youtube and look up Safe and Sound Fienne - it's incredible). There is no real romance, but it can be assumed if you squint.

This story is 3 chapters long and the other two are already written. The second should be posted on Monday.

Please, please, PLEASE leave a review - good or bad - to let me know what you thought of this story. Reviews are a massive motivator for me and I love to hear what people think of what I write, whether it's criticism or compliments or prompts.

When Rose woke, the lights in the TARDIS were still dim, indicating they were still in the ship's designated sleep cycle. She tossed and turned for a few moments, not quite ready to leave the comfort of the soft bed that had been provided for her by the TARDIS. When she realized that for whatever reason, she wasn't going to be able to fall back asleep, she shoved the blankets aside and sat up, stretching beside she slipped her feet into her plush slippers and standing fully.

She quietly made her way out of her bedroom, surprised to see the lights of the rest of the ship were dim as well. She realized the Doctor must be sleeping; the ship would have turned on the lights completely if that wasn't the case.

She made her way to the galley, only half paying attention to where she was going as she let the TARDIS prod her in the right direction.

An unintelligible shout made her stop short, her eyes widening as she looked around. There were two people on the TARDIS, and she was one of them.

The Doctor was shouting.

With a renewed sense of urgency, Rose let the ship guide her to the heavy wooden door that led to the Doctor's bedroom. She placed her hand on the handle and hesitated. The Doctor had never let her into his bedroom before, and she didn't want to intrude.

Another shout strengthened her resolve and she twisted the handle, stepping into the dark room. Her eyes adjusted and she could make out the shape of the Doctor, his comforter thrown to the side and his sheets twisted around his frame. He was shouting and she could just barely make out some of the words – Don't! No! No more! NO MORE! – and she advanced carefully, moving so she was kneeling next to his bed and could see his face. His eyes were squeezed tightly shut and his forehead was creased into a deep frown. He thrashed violently against the sheets that had wrapped around him, constraining his movements.

He stopped for a moment, and the next word that came from his lips was no more than a whimper.

"Rose."

Rose bit her lip and reached out to gingerly touch his hand. "Doctor," she whispered, taking hold of his hand. He thrashed again, crying out, and she spoke with more force this time, "Doctor, wake up. Doctor."

His eyes flew open and she could see the panic and fire in his crystal blue gaze, even in the dark room. She quietly said his name again in what she hoped was a soothing tone and his gaze snapped to her. Gently, she reached forward and stroked the side of his face. "It's alright," she whispered, "you're alright."

"Rose," he breathed, frowning confusedly at her. "What are you doing here?" She could still see the stress from his nightmare written across his face and in his guarded blue eyes, and her heart broke a little.

"You were shouting in your sleep," she told him quietly, continuing to gently stroke his cheek and squeezing his hand comfortingly.

His grip on her hand tightened suddenly, almost painfully, but she said nothing, letting him take whatever comfort he needed from her. He tugged hesitantly on her hand, and she took the cue. Moving slowly in case he changed his mind, she rose from her kneeling position and slipped under the blanket, keeping a grip on his hand. She settled on her side, her head on the same pillow as his, and met his gaze squarely.

After several moments of him simply soaking in her presence, letting the steady beat of her single heart and warm gaze calm his racing pulse and breath, he spoke quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

"It was the war," he told her, hating how the pain was evident in his tone and missing the armor of his leather jacket, as though the material could shield his mind from lingering hurt. The darkness of the war threatened to overpower the tentative grip he had on his sanity, a shadow creeping along the edge of his thoughts, fighting to stay in all his thoughts. "It's always the war." He repeated bitterly.

She said nothing for a few minutes, simply gazing at him with whiskey eyes that were as intoxicating as the drink that shared their colour. Then she sighed deeply. "I've got you now," She promised him quietly.

Though the words were spoken softly, the strength of the promise lifted a weight off his chest and he let out a deep huff at her words, feeling tears build in his eyes. He hated himself for the display of vulnerability and blinked them away, refusing to let a single one fall.

"Close your eyes," she whispered, leaning forward and pressing a lingering kiss to his forehead. "We're safe. I'll be right here when you wake up."

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