Rose watched the Doctor as he worked at the console, the green light playing over his chiseled face. He had been sobbing not long ago, and his blue eyes were still red rimmed. The look in his eyes had been beyond anguish. She didn't have a word for that kind of emotion. She had thought for a moment that his emotions would tear him apart.

That man had called him General back in the cell, and said a few things about the War among his threats. The War that the Doctor never talked about. All Rose knew was that it had wiped out his people, and the Daleks too. The bastard had asked a load of questions about it, yelled at the Doctor too. Well, the man was dealt with and good riddance to him. But the Doctor was too calm. Nobody should sob like that and then be quiet as you please, going about his work twenty minutes later.

"Doctor?"

The Doctor looked up. "Yep?"

"You okay?"

He looked back at the console. "Course. Always okay, me."

"Yeah, but you…just seemed like you were having a rough time of it back there."

The Doctor was a dark silhouette against the console lights.

"Do you wan' to talk about it?"
"Not really, no."

The ship beat beneath them, filling the awkward silence.

"Right." Rose said softly, "'S just…well, when I've had a bad time I always go to talk to me mum or a mate. So, I know you don't want to, but if you ever do….well, y'know. Might make y' feel better, anyhow."

The Doctor's lips quirked in a mirthless smile. He turned to pull another lever.

"Rose, you ever take any classes in psychology?"

Rose snorted.

"Sorry. Bit beyond me, headshrinking."

"Oh, I dunno. Interesting stuff, some of it. Fascinating, the way you humans react to experience. 'Specially to trauma." He pulled another lever, then checked the designs on the monitor, talking as he worked. "See, a human's got only so many tracks of thought that can run at one time, only so much room in that kind of brain. So when something happens, you lot have to face it an' integrate it into your experiences. Oh, you delay it, cushion it a bit with shock an' coping mechanisms an' just pretending it didn't happen for a while, but you find a way to sort it out in your own head sooner or later. Lots of unpleasant things can happen along the way trying to sort it, but that's human psychology." He typed a few moments, then moved to the other side of the console. "It's not a common method of dealing, that. Takes up a lot of time. F'r comparison, Time Lord brain goes about it a little different. See, I can run about twice as many mental processes as you, run a number of simultaneous lines of thought while only focusing on one of 'em. More synapses, more neural folds, bigger faster brain, built to process and store a load of information. An' if a line of processing isn't useful, or if it's possibly dangerous to the psyche and normal mental state, then it gets put right at the bottom of the mental heap. Gets stalled. Sort of mental cold storage, out of sight, out of mind. Makes it easier to survive, see? Don't have to deal with it for years if you don't have the time." He turned away from her. "Only thing is, if present experiences bring the stalled thoughts to the surface, they're as fresh as the day you saw them. Never get dealt with and integrated." Then he turned to her, and shrugged. "But mostly the trauma just sits about in the brain's basement. Convenient copin' mechanism, really. Keeps you goin' happy as you please." He gave her one of his quick, bright smiles.

"Now, 'nuff comparative psychoanalysis for one day. You hungry?"

Rose nodded, smiling wanly. "Yeah. Starved."

And the Doctor bounded off. Cheerful as always. At least as far as you could see.