By her watch, it was 1:21am when Rose crept into the Doctor's room. He was still sleeping. Rose stood at the foot of his bed and folded her arms as she watched this new face who said he was "still the Doctor" sleep soundly, completely unaware of his surroundings. What was the matter with him? Was he gonna die? Rose didn't know.
A lump rose in her throat as she stared, and tears welled, unbidden, in her eyes. She missed him. The first Doctor, her real Doctor. Cropped hair, mono-coloured jumper for every occasion, all leather and ears and Northern accent. He wouldn't sleep through all this madness. He'd find a way to be up and at 'em, saving the world as per usual. As she'd gotten used to him doing. Was he dead? Her first Doctor? He obviously wasn't the same as this new skinny twig of a Time Lord, so did that mean he died? Essentially, in Rose's mind, that meant he did.
Rose swallowed as tears silently overflowed down her cheeks at the thought. She turned to go, rubbing tears away with her pyjama sleeve, when just before she got out the Christmas tree shaped doorway, something caught her eye. On a chair, folded neatly by Jackie Tyler, were the clothes she had changed the Doctor out of when they'd first brought him into the flat. Now he was wearing Harold's striped pyjamas, and the clothes on the chair…
Rose reached for them and almost sobbed aloud at the feeling of worn leather and soft wool under her fingers. Without a thought, she grabbed the jumper and jacket, hugging them close to her chest and scurrying back to her room, quickly shutting the door behind her.
Once in the solitary confinement of her bedroom, Rose pressed her face deeply into the fabrics and breathed in. They still smelled like him. Sitting on her bed, hunched over, face still embedded in the jacket and jumper, Rose let down her guard and started to cry for her lost Doctor, whom she was sure was truly dead since this new one certainly was nothing like him. She cried for not understanding what was happening to him when he regenerated, and she cried for not being able to say a proper goodbye. She cried for having to say goodbye at all, for she was fairly sure (though she didn't really remember) that she'd had a significant part in causing his regeneration.
"Doctor," Rose wept, laying down and curling up around the last reminders of her Doctor. "Doctor, I miss you…" While a small voice in the back of her mind reminded arise that the skinny unconscious bloke in the next room was really the Doctor (he had proved it, after all) Rose was incapable of thinking of him as the Doctor just yet. She didn't think she could ever think of him as the Doctor. He would always be the Northern leather-clad muscular Time Lord in her mind, not this cheeky-grinning tall guy that was all spiked-up brown hair and apparently had a mole between his shoulder blades.
Amidst her sobs, Rose, with trembling hands and hitching breaths, pulled the leather jacket around herself, slipping her arms into the too-long sleeves and hugging the jumper close. While her tearful cries softened to sniffles, they never really stopped. And so came the first night Rose Tyler was without her Doctor, and she cried herself to sleep, trying to pretend that the leather sleeves were his arms around her, and the soft woollen jumper beneath her cheek was really his broad double-beating chest. She drifted into uneasy unconsciousness, wishing wistfully with all her heart-broken heart that her attempt at feeling close to him was truth, and she was really tucked up close to him, sleeping safely in her Doctor's arms.