Rose had always loved the wardrobe room. It was cold and messy and huge, but blessedly quiet and deeply personal. Rose went there to think, between adventures and late at night when the nightmares kept her from sleep. She had discovered it soon after she had boarded his ship, when she had been particularly upset about beautiful for a human and the TARDIS had led her here. Sometimes, when she was in a better mood, she liked to dress herself up. It was a confidence booster she desperately needed, sometimes. Tonight, however, she had come looking in particular for an article of clothing she knew only too well.

The tears didn't come until she reached the Nine-era wardrobe, jumpers and jeans, and she remembered the first Doctor, her Doctor, the one this new Doctor assured her was still there but she wasn't so sure because he was callous now, callous in a way her Doctor, with his Northern accent and brash speech and goofy ears, never could be. Not towards her. He was a completely new man, and Rose wasn't sure she could cope.

And there, at the end of the section, hung neatly on the last hook, it was. Her Doctor's defining characteristic, her last reminder of who he had been, his leather jacket. Gingerly she took it off the hanger, breathing in his scent and feeling a fresh wave of tears wash over her. She slipped it over her shoulders and sank to the floor, sobbing like he wasn't just hallways away.

Elsewhere on the ship, the doctor paced. The TARDIS chided him in a series of mechanical clicks and whirrs.

She needs you. Go to her. seemed to be the gist of it.

He argued aloud, partially with his oldest friend and partially with himself "She doesn't need me, she needs him, and he's not here and I'm not good enough! That's why she's sobbing on the floor, surrounded by his clothes, because she doesn't think I care about her the way he did, and that's why I can't go to her!"

She will understand. Give her time, but do not let her push herself away.

The doctor had no arguments left. He plodded down the hall, trying to think of something he could say to make this better, anything he could possibly say that would keep her from leaving him. He was still coming up blank when he came to the doors of the wardrobe room and, with a heavy sigh, pulled them open.

The Doctor had always hated the wardrobe room. It was always his first visit after regenerations and it had always brought back painful, unwanted memories. He heard Rose sobbing in the distance, and he hurried off past One, Two, Three... all the way to Nine, and there she was, bundled up in his ratty old leather jacket and frantically wiping tears off her face. He supposed she heard him coming.

"'M sorry. Didn't think you'd hear me." Rose whispered, and he thought his hearts might shatter. She thought she had to apologize for this? He crouched next to her solemnly.

"I'm still him, you know. Just smacked around a little, a little rearranged. I'm still him. He's still in here." the Doctor said, gesturing to his head.

"I know." she mumbled. "'S jus' hard, sometimes. You're just so... different, now. Feels like everything we had just... shattered, when you saved me, and now I don't even know if you like me anymore, much less care about me how he did." She took a deep, shaky breath. "I know you're him. Jus' doesn't feel like it sometimes."

The Doctor froze. She doesn't think he likes her? She thinks he doesn't care about her?

Oh, god. She was going to leave him. A million thoughts shot through his head, among them she's all I have and doesn't she know I need her and where did this come from and Rassilon, Rose, you can be bloody thick sometimes and I love her, I love her, I love her. He can't lose her, not now, not because of this.

"Is this about Reinette?" he blurted out, squashing the urge to hold her tight and never, ever let her go, not for Ricky or her mum or anyone. She laughed sarcastically.

"Yes, doctor, it's about Reinette. And it's about all the other girls you've left me for day in and day out, and I wouldn't mind except I could have died and you didn't care!" She sighed bitterly. "You never would've left like that before. That's the difference."

A spark of anger surged through him. "So I'm not allowed to fancy someone, but you get to go gallivanting around with all your pretty boys like Mickey and Adam and Jack? How is that fair?"

"You are a pretty boy now! And you're just as bad as them, Doctor. You don't care about anything but more, newer, better, and I cannot give you that because that's the one thing I can never be no matter how hard I try!"

"Rose-"

"Maybe I should just go home." she whispered, tears filling her eyes again. The doctor's face contorted into one of panic - he could not lose her.

"Rose, please..."

"Be better there, anyway. Not a burden anymore." she said, barely audible, and he swore in that moment both his hearts stopped. His breath caught in his throat. Gently, he raised a hand to brush her hair back behind her ear, to thumb away the tears threatening to slip down her cheeks.

"Come here." he said, and that was all it took for her to sob again and crash into him. Her leather-clad arms closed around his waist and she buried her face in his shirt. His arms came to rest around her shoulders, and he rested his chin on her hair.

"I do care about you, you know." he said softly. She sniffed.

"I know."