When the dark turns to night
And all the dreams sing their song
In the daylight forever
To you I belong
~To You I Belong, B*Witched
Lying in bed, Rose stares at the ceiling of her bedroom and the patterned circles the TARDIS weaves through it.
The Doctor determined she needed to sleep and sent her to bed when they were back in the time ship. She supposes he is right; she's tired.
But she hoped they could stay up and talk, or have tea, or something... Not just go to sleep, like there isn't anything unresolved between them, like everything is as usual. They've really had no time alone at all after the – after the regeneration. Aside from those horrible, awful few minutes before crash landing, when her world had crash landed on top of her.
Just how different is he?
He sounds different – not just in his accent, but in the things he says, in the way he babbles, in the way he words certain things. She noticed that rather quickly. But he also used the word 'fantastic' a few times, and still grins at her with that expression that is fast becoming familiar again, and still takes her hand as if walking side by side with her without holding hands is unnatural.
It is.
Every time she recognises something in him from before today, her body frees itself from toxins, releases tension. Every familiar action, gesture, word, leaves her heart leaping and a little piece of it regenerates, just like him.
She should really try to sleep, she thinks as she closes her eyes. Who knows what tomorrow can bring.
Then again, in the TARDIS, tomorrow is a relative term. If he wants, the Doctor can make a night last 24 hours, a week, a minute, a year. And she really can't sleep right now. Her eyes just open again, the utter darkness scaring her a notch.
The room suddenly feels small, and her breath catches. It's closing in on her, slowly in the dark. She's never felt this way before in this room, this room that now feels as much personally hers as her room back home, in London. Suddenly it feels alien, as if it's a prison. She can't stay in it tonight, not alone.
She sits up resolutely and gets off the bed, throwing off the cover. Cool air hits her without the protection of the warm blanket, and she feels bereft and cold, pausing for a few seconds to wrap her hands around her and get used to the feeling. She'll be fine. Not turning on the light, she examines some clothes strewn over and around a blue chair. She's wearing nothing but a T-shirt. Of course, it's big enough to reach her knees, but in sleep, these annoying T-shirts tend to ride up...
She leaves the room, in the end, not having put anything else on. In the hallway of the time ship, she's colder than she thought she'd be, and she tries not to shiver. Could've at least put on some socks, she thinks, but no matter now.
She goes out into the console room, but it's dark and silent.. He's not always doing his jiggery-pokery when he's out there at night, though. Sometimes - she knows, because she's caught him at it - he sits there in the dark and thinks... brooding, reminiscing, torturing himself, simply not sleeping. "Doctor?" she asks quietly, tentatively.
She doesn't think this new Doctor is the brooding type, but perhaps it's too soon to tell. They still have the same past. Planet dying – her heart aches for him when she remembers. Wants to make it better. Many times she'd come so close to offering him a comforting hug, wanted to tell him it's not his fault, that it wasn't really a choice at all, that she's there for him and he should let her comfort him... something had always stopped her, told her that he wouldn't welcome it. He liked to keep his emotions in check.
He's not in the room, though.
Would he be asleep? She knows he must sleep sometimes, but more sporadically than she. After his... regeneration... she should really get more used to the idea of it... she thought he wouldn't need to sleep so soon.
But she goes to his bedroom.
She stands outside for a minute, hesitating, trying to gather her courage to come in while part of her brain is counting the reasons for her to just leave. The door isn't shut – it's open just a crack, but she can't see anything for the darkness inside, much as her eyes are used to the black of this hour.
Will he be upset if she intrudes his room? She's come into his room a few times before, but never like this. Never when he was sleeping. Never with what she had in mind. And she doesn't know how he feels about his privacy now, anyway....
Will he send her back to her room? Or maybe he's asleep. Will he be upset if she wakes him up?
She pushes the door further, her heart in her mouth, beating a million times per second. She wills it to hush up, as if she doesn't want it to give her away. She expects the door to creak, but the TARDIS is being nice and staying quiet for her.
He's asleep, she thinks, but can't be sure. He's in bed, anyway, on his back, and not showing signs of being awake... It's a big bed, and he's only taking up one side, so she climbs onto it and lies down beside him, careful not to touch. Facing him, she watches him sleep for a few long moments.
And then he hands her one side of the blanket, without turning. "Here. You're cold."
She's startled, and for a second she freezes, hoping, pleading with the TARDIS to, to teleport her to some other room or back to 2005 or 2006 or wherever she should go.
Then she relaxes. It's only the Doctor, after all. Still her Doctor. She thinks.
He's just trying to take care of her, and that thought makes her heart swell.
"Thanks," she says quietly, taking the edge of the cover with almost trembling hands and hugs it to her chest after draping it over herself. Still leaves about a foot between them. "Jus' can't sleep."
"Me either, honestly, not that I need it anyway. Didn't want to stay up on my own."
She doesn't say anything. Tries to decide to behave with him as if he hasn't changed, but can't quite. Can't bring herself to touch him, to make a joke... doesn't want to make any mistakes.
"What's bothering you?"
"Nothing," she says, too quickly.
"Rose," he says.
She likes the way he says it, even with that tone of voice. Loves how it sounds on his lips, how it twists in his mouth with his new accent.
She doesn't say anything again, doesn't know what to say. Why did she come here, if not to talk? She was just hoping she wouldn't have to be completely honest with him. Ironic and self contradicting – and just a tad hypocritical – of you, Rose Tyler, she scolds herself.
"It's still bothering you, isn't it," he says, more than asks.
She knows what he's talking about without needing clarification. She wants to say no... she wants to say she's fine with him, that his change doesn't bother her anymore. She wants it so desperately to be true. But a bigger part of her knows he can still see right through her lies, and she doesn't want to lie. "A little."
He doesn't answer. She must have hurt him, and for a moment she hates herself. He can't help having changed, and he's tried so hard to help her get used to it. He took her with him even after the way she treated him.
"Fat lot of good you were, you gave up on me!"
She closes her eyes, ashamed of herself. She did.
"The proper Doctor wouldn't do this..."
Even aliens, even Time Lords with time ships and nine hundred years of experience and big heads who think they know everything, have the right to get sick sometimes. And she treated him like he should have just timed it better, like he was a burden in a way, even if she did refuse to leave him alone.
"Not so much that you changed your face, I mean…" she adds quickly. And that much is true. "Jus'… want to know how different you are." She pauses. "On the inside." She almost whispers the last bit, confidence faltering.
"Oh," he replies, and there's a few seconds' silence again. "I thought you had fun at Christmas. Thought you wanted to stay."
"I do want to stay!" she protests. "But that was with mum, and Mickey, and Harriet, and it's not the same..." She swallows. "I want to know how you're different... how we're different... together."
"We're together now, like always."
"Then why is it so different?" She waits for his answer with baited breath.
"Are you uncomfortable with me?" he asks, moments later, and his tone almost breaks her heart.
"Jus' dunno how to behave with you."
"Like you always do," he pleads.
"But you're not the same."
"Feels the same."
"Does it?"
"Uh-huh." He rolls over to face her on the wide pillow and suddenly that foot of space between them doesn't seem like enough. "Still feels like always. Still want you around to get in trouble together." He smiles and pauses. "I know you miss the way I was... but if you give me a chance, Rose, you'll see it's still just me."
Her hand falls from her grip on the cover and grazes his chin with her knuckles. He clutches her hand in his and pulls it to his chest. It feels so familiar. "I've held your hand before, so many times. So many times that we ran together, walked together, even the very first time."
"Yeah," she manages to say, and it comes out all shaky, but not a whisper.
"Come here," he pleads and pulls her hand.
She slides under the cover and finds him, and he wraps his arms around her, and it's so good to lie together like that.
It feels so peaceful, like it could last forever, lying together in the dark and silence. Though, suddenly she's aware that his chest is bare and that all that's keeping her breasts from his skin is sheer fabric, and she doesn't know if she wishes she were wearing more or less.
She feels his lips brush her hair and closes her eyes. She knows he's still her Doctor, and she wishes she could be his Rose, she thinks as she begins to fall away into sleep, lulled by his heartbeats under her ear.
***
She's so young, vibrant, full of optimism and love of life. And he brings disaster. He's thought of this before many, many a time, and his conscience still torments him. What is he doing with her like this?
He's promised himself he'd keep his distance from her, and he knows that's the best choice for both of them. They don't have forever, they only have now, and he doesn't want to ruin her future, whatever it may bring. She's young still, but youth is so evanescent.
He knows, with a certainty that almost kills him sometimes, that of all his companions come and gone, Rose is special. He's too selfish to ever let her go willingly. Sooner or later she'll leave on her own... they always do. Sooner or later she'll return to her mum.
...to Mickey...
And part of him hopes it'll happen soon so she's safe and he can stop feeling guilty. The other part of him, that selfish part blessed with no conscience, tells him to shut up and savour the moment and that he won't let her go even if she asks, it'll be too hard.
Though he knows he won't do that.
He hopes she knows he's her Doctor still. Oh, he's been hers always. But he doesn't dare to call her his Rose. Loves her too much to claim her as his own.
There, he's said it. He loves her. Loves her so much, and yet he shouldn't, because what can he offer her even if she does return his feelings? He's too alien and too old and has seen too much. Mickey, or a vast number of other human blokes, could give her more than he can.
The same goes the other way around, hints the TARDIS, or maybe he imagines her whisper because he needs someone to validate his selfish need for Rose. He wants her to himself.
She's so sweet asleep, looks so innocent, and yet he has to convince himself that she's only still a teenager. She's smart and brave beyond her years, and right now, feels so much like a woman against him in that T-shirt.
Hard to tell himself that he has no claim to her when they're together like that, and when she's the one who climbed into his bed.
Oh, bollocks, and who is he kidding anyway? He can't convince himself of that when they're in different rooms, on different planets, in different years. He's tried.
He's glad, even if a little sorry, that Rose didn't make a move at anything more tonight. He doesn't think he could have denied her. He's tried repeating the multiplication table to himself whenever she stood too close, and it never worked. Gallifreyan and human and Raxicoricofallipatorian maths, complicated maths from other galaxies on the edge of the universe, can't keep his mind off her when she's close.
He presses a light kiss tenderly to her hair, just because he can't resist. With her sound asleep, he can do that.
He was surprised when she came to him, and even more surprised when she wordlessly climbed into his bed earlier, but it's also a relief that she trusts him again, that she feels close enough again. And he is so glad they'd both opened up, even if she'll probably need a few days to get used to his new appearance.
The tear is somewhat mended, and they don't have to pretend it's not there anymore. He knows she tried to.
She mumbles something in her sleep and stirs a little, but stays asleep, and he smiles because she's so adorable.
And so not his.
***
In the morning she wakes up and the room is lit. She soaks in sleepy dreams for a few moments more, postponing getting up. She's dreaming of golden lights - Daleks? - and a kiss that's quickly fading. And a familiar voice in her ears, gently getting closer. "I think you need a Doctor."
He's with her, the Doctor, he didn't change and he's still with her – didn't leave her –
His voice is not the same one she heard, dreaming, when he senses she's awake and greets her. "Morning," he says, stroking her hair. "Sleep well?"
Disappointment stabs for just a moment, but then she remembers something else – remembers last night, how he held her, pleaded with her, reassured her, kissed her hair and rocked her to sleep. She turns her head to look at him, and sees him grinning broadly down at her, his new brown eyes lovely and warm and welcoming her home.
"Yeah," she replies, smiling, and it suddenly feels like an awkward morning-after. It occurs to her that to kiss him now would not feel unnatural or unexpected. But she doesn't, because she's not sure how he'll react.
And she hopes he doesn't know that she's just kissed him over and over in dreams – and that this dream was so much more real in comparison to any she's had before, similar in content, that she's dying to reach for him now.
She doesn't want him to know, and doesn't reach for him. Mostly, because she didn't ask last night the question she wanted an answer to most of all.
"What're we doing today?" she asks, sliding back down to lie against him again, her cheeks a little flushed.
"What do you want to do?" He drapes his arms around her again.
She smiles. "Dunno. Have breakfast."
"Oh, breakfast, good idea. I'll make pancakes."
She bursts into laughter. "You? I thought you didn't do domestic. I thought you didn't cook!"
He feigns offence. "I can cook!"
"Do we even have ingredients? Flour? And don't tell me you have a hundred-year-old bag somewhere."
He thinks. "Not a hundred... forty, maybe." She swats him. "Okay, okay, I'll make scrambled eggs and toast, can I make that and not get teased for it?"
"You can make whatever you want, Mr. Domestic," she says, grinning.
He rolls his eyes. "Oi. I have one dinner with your family and I'm Mr. Domestic now. Up, up, into the kitchen." He pushes her gently off him and sits up. "Go get dressed and I'll see you in a few."
Regretfully leaving his bed, she trudges back to her own room. She can get used to him, definitely, she thinks...
When she emerges in the kitchen a few minutes later in a pair of jeans and pink top, ready for the day, he's fussing around the counter, but tea is ready on the table.
She picks up a mug and sits down, waiting. He doesn't say anything.
A few long seconds of silence pass, she wonders what he's thinking. She has to break the silence or she'll lose her mind. Say something, she beckons herself. Something simple and easy.
Something like good morning, although you've already said that and it's stupid to say that twice, isn't it? Even if it did turn into a sort of joke between you and Jack. Jack, wherever he is. She sighs.
Go on, say something. Ask him your question, if you don't have any other way to break this deadly quiet.
She lifts her hand in a gesture to get his attention, though his back is to her, but then hesitates and puts it back in her lap. She grimaces at herself. Just do it.
"Doctor," she says, without confidence.
"Yes?" he asks, turning around.
Doctor what? Doctor, do you love me? Doctor, will you kiss me senseless? Doctor, will you take me to a psychiatric ward back home because I'm going insane?
"I was jus' wonderin'…" Wondering if you're in love with me... "Last night, you said everything was still the same."
"Yeah. I meant it."
"I know. Jus'... I mean, well, does that mean..." She stops to clear her throat. "Does that mean you're going to keep getting us into trouble?"
Stupid. Why'd you have to go and ask that instead? You're a bloody coward, Rose Tyler.
"I do not get us in trouble all the time!"
She grins half heartedly, raising her eyebrow in a challenge, and his expression changes from indignant to amused as well. "Okay, maybe, sometimes. It's in the job description, after all, Rose Tyler, and we're working towards a promotion."
"A promotion?" she laughs.
"Well, you know, for you. I've already climbed as high as I need to be. But you... let's see. Rose Tyler, Super-Companion. No, wait, better – Rose Tyler, Super Time Traveler."
"Oh, I think I like the sound of that." She laughs again. "Like the first one better, though."
"Really?"
"Yeah, means you're not allowed to send me away home, ever. 'Cause I'm your companion. It's in the job description, see?"
She sees his expression sober, and realises that she knows what has always been unspoken between them. He can't promise her never to do it, and even now that he has done it once, he can't, and won't, promise he won't do it again.
But suddenly the pang of hurt she felt that day, so recently and yet so long ago, comes back.
"Rose..."
She stops smiling, too. "I haven't forgiven you for that yet, you know."
****