This is the first of hopefully ten chapters. I wrote this little thing in a couple of different sittings, and I think my strength definitely lies in character studies rather than dialogue so please review kindly and constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated! This one takes place at the very end of "The Girl in the Fireplace."

When the Doctor returned to the TARDIS, he had lost every last drop of that jubilant energy he had been bursting with only minutes before, and that worried Rose. He kept his feelings too quiet, too bottled up inside himself, and one day that might do him harm.

"Why her?" she asked softly. Her question had two meanings, of course; she wanted to know why the aliens had chosen to stalk Reinette in order to complete their ship, but secretly, deep down, she desperately wanted to know why the Doctor had been so rashly willing to sacrifice everything to save the young woman he'd just met. So willing, he'd almost left Rose behind forever. "Why did they think they could repair the ship with the head of Madame De Pompadour?"

"We'll probably never know," he said, a complete lack of emotion in his voice. "There's massive damage in the computer's memory index… probably got confused. The TARDIS can close down the time windows now the droids have gone, stop them causing any more trouble…"

He was acting, she could tell. He was trying and failing to go about his business as usual, but something inside was killing him.

"Are you alright?" she asked, her voice gentle. He looked up, his face blank for a moment as though he were surprised at the question.

"I'm always alright," he lied, and even as he tried to convince her with the false words, his face was taught with pain.

She watched him for another moment as he fiddled with the controls of the TARDIS, until Mickey took her hand and suggested she show him around the rest of the ship. Unwillingly, she tore her eyes away from her beloved Doctor and followed him.

Later that night, however, after Mickey had retreated into his room, Rose crept through the halls of the TARDIS to the kitchen, where she made a fresh pot of tea. She poured the hot liquid into two mugs: her favorite, a pretty pink and yellow patterned one, and the one she bought for the Doctor at a market on Astris Bizarus; it was crafted in a beautiful TARDIS blue with a single white rose painted delicately on the side. "It's a rose," she had explained with a grin when she's handed over her present to him, "like me!"

She found him in the control room, where he seemed to sit alone all too often, though he never seemed to mind being found or she was sure he could find a more obscure place to hide away. He looked up when she entered, a small smile playing on his lips at the sight of her bearing the two steaming mugs of tea.

"Your favorite, monsieur," she said with a smile, handing over the cup. He wrapped both hands around the mug and took a sip.

"Ah, good old fashioned British tea," he said, winking at her. She settled herself down on the hard metal floor, folding her legs so she was sitting criss-cross. After a moment, the Doctor moved from his chair to a spot on the floor as well.

"Is something bothering you, Rose?" he asked after a few silent moments as they sipped at their beverages. "I would have expected you to be asleep by now."

Rose ignored his question, choosing instead to search his eyes for the answers she needed. His body may be young and smooth, but his eyes alone revealed just how old and weary and lonely the Time Lord was. Finally, she asked, point-blank, "Did you love her?"

Her question seemed to take him by surprise. "Love who?" he asked cautiously.

"Reinette," Rose said.

He immediately averted his eyes from her face, but she waited patiently as he shifted uncomfortably, staring around the room as if searching for something, anything to distract him from the question. She didn't press him, but simply waited for his response.

"No," he said after several long moments, his voice so quiet she might have convinced herself she imagined it.

"Then why smash the time window? I know that you had no idea the fireplace still worked when you did it, so why risk everything just to take the slow path with her? You left me behind!" her voice cracked with her last sentence, and against her will, tears began to prick the backs of her eyes.

"I would have found a way back to you Rose, you know that!" he said sharply, but instead of feeling comforted, she felt quite the opposite. Her eyes narrowed.

"But what if you didn't? You left me alone!"

"You weren't alone!" the Doctor said, his voice rising now, "You had Mickey! I have no one, Rose! I'm alone!"

Rose's face grew hard with anger and hurt, and her next words came out in a low, deep hiss. "You've got me."

The Doctor's eyes were stormy, but with which emotions, Rose couldn't tell. When he set his jaw and didn't speak, she continued. "You keep saying you're so alone, but you're not. I might have Mickey if I want him, but Mickey doesn't really have me. I'm all yours, Doctor, now and forever." She squared her shoulders, mustering up as much authority as she could. "So, I'm done playin' games and I want you to tell me: why did you run?"

Why did you run?

Rose didn't even realize what a loaded question that was. Why did he run? Why does he keep running, still? Would he ever stop running?

He spent so much time thinking through her question in his head, he had no idea how much time had passed when he finally uttered an answer. "Because I was scared." His eyes were downcast, his fingers tracing the rim of his mug. The mug with the little white rose.

"Scared of what?" Rose's voice had softened considerably, and she reached out to pry his hand away from the cup so she could lace her fingers with his.

"I'm not supposed to…" he muttered, avoiding her gaze again. When she began to rub soothing circles into the back of his hand with her thumb, he shook his head and tried to stand up. "I'm not—"

"Stop running away from me!" Rose cried in frustration. She refused to let go of his hand and yanked him back to his position on the floor. "What are you scared of!?"

"I'm not supposed to love you!" he finally shouted.

She fell silent, shock written all over her face.

"I'm sorry, Rose, I'm so sorry—" He screwed up his face in remorse, fidgeting uncomfortably and still trying to release his hand from her vicelike grip.

"You don't have to apologize," she said quietly. "D—do you really love me?"

The Doctor's frame crumpled in defeat; he bowed his head and relented his struggle against her hold. His free hand flew up to his face, covering his eyes.

"I'm not supposed to, Rose," he explained, and suddenly his voice was thick with what she suspected were tears. "Because you're so young and beautiful and human and I'm just a stupid old, broken Time Lord. You could have stayed on Earth and lived a wonderful life with Mickey, but instead I snatched you up, stole you away for myself, and that wasn't right. But loving you—falling in love with you—that's a whole different level, another story that never should have happened."

"But Doctor, why is it so wrong for you to love me? Does this feel wrong to you?" Rose asked timidly, reaching up to cup his face with her hand. He looked up slowly, his eyes full of pain.

"It's going to hurt," he whispered, but Rose didn't care. She slowly moved closer, one hand still tangled with his, the other gently stroking his jaw.

"What is?" she asked, hardly paying attention as her eyes flicked down to his lips then back to his eyes.

"When you leave." His voice was throaty and barely above a whisper.

"I'm never going to leave you," she murmured, her lips hovering inches away from his until he gave in, let his eyes fall shut and closed the gap.