It was quiet on the TARDIS. Almost too quiet. And it frightened Rose.
She was used to the ship making noise as it lurched about through time and space. She was always listening for the Doctor's shoes slapping on the grating as he moved around the console flipping switches or stroking bits of the coral. She was quite vigilant of the Doctor's voice as it floated through the hallways as he nattered on about bananas, where Confucius actually got his sayings or how he was solely responsible for making sure NASA made it to the moon because otherwise those bloody scientists would still be sucking their thumbs at the daunting task.
The silence was really just unbearable and she was going to put a stop to it. That, however, involved finding the Doctor. And it wasn't as if he left a trail of banana peels for her to follow.
Then an idea struck Rose and she dashed out of the kitchen. The young woman made a few turns, almost wandered into a room that smelled like apple pie before finding what she'd been looking for.
"Doctor."
His head popped up from behind a barrier of books with a surprised expression. Even his hair seemed to follow suit.
"Rose? Something wrong?"
"It was quiet," Rose replied as she walked into the library. "I was hoping you'd make a bit of noise."
"Ah, well, I got distracted," he admitted with a shrug then gestured around him. "I have the biggest library in the universe. I've read everything here at least a dozen times, but I still get myself lost in the classics. Well, some of them are the classics you'd be familiar with. They're constantly reprinted through the rest of time, but new authors come along who are just as brilliant with equally brilliant characters. It's not as if people ever stopped writing. They just read it all differently. In a few years from your time they'll be reading Dickens off their phone. And in about a hundred years you'll be able to directly download it to your mind. Not as enjoyable, but that's just human innovation. Always moving forward."
He smiled at her and she stared at him for a moment. She wasn't sure if she was supposed to reply to any of it or just take it all in stride like everything else she had with this new Doctor. Like finding out he needed to talk during everything. And that meant everything. She vaguely wondered how many other ways he could tell her about what he loved about her breasts.
"Are you sure you weren't just trying to find more books about werewolves?" Rose teased, picking up leather bound copy of Jane Austen's 'Emma' from a stack of books next to the couch she had curled up on a few times. "Or if my Mad Hatter comment from the other day actually had any merit?"
He frowned at her for a moment before escaping his fort of literature and moving towards her.
"If you really must know, Rose Tyler, I was looking for my copy of 'Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy'," the Doctor stated. His lips quirked. "That Douglas Adams was truly something. Quite stoned out of his mind when he stumbled aboard the TARDIS so I was quite surprised to find that he had written about his experience."
"What?"
"Which part are you questioning?" The Doctor inquired. "The stoned bit? Or that what he wrote is mostly true? And when I say mostly true, I mean that just a bit of is actual factual. Well, not actually factual. Just really, really close to what did occur during the time he spent with me. Except for the part about the Vogons." He made a disgusted face. "They really do have such awful poetry. Nearly regenerated there on the spot just in hopes they'd let me go."
"And when was this?" Rose asked.
"During my seventh regeneration," the Doctor answered. "Ace was off and he wandered into my TARDIS. Of course, she's the basis for The Heart of Gold in the book. I suspect a bit of my explanation about her did stick in his head. Even if he mangled it up."
"I suppose he based one of his characters off you as well," Rose said.
The Doctor sniffed and adjusted his tie.
"Of course."
"Arthur Dent?"
"Really, Rose Tyler," the Doctor admonished. She smiled and her tongue poked out a bit. He felt himself return the smile. "I've only ever saved the world in jim-jams once. And it wasn't around him."
"Then who?"
"Ford Prefect."
"Is he the bloke that writes the guide?"
"A simplification of his character, but yes," the Doctor replied. "I've been the basis of many famous pop culture icons. A bit of a hazard traveling around meeting idols and such. Though I really should start charging Spielberg. And quite possibly George Lucas."
"What for? Is Star Wars based off you?"
The Doctor only looked at her over the top of his glasses and she groaned.
"Doctor, I'll believe you when you say that you helped Winston Churchill during the war, that you know who actually killed Kennedy and that you were the one who actually named the platypus, but I find it a bit hard to believe you inspired Star Wars."
"You wound me, Rose Tyler," the Doctor told her with a bit of a pout forming. "Just for that I'm not going to tell you why I was looking for the book."
"I'm quite sure you will," Rose responded.
"I'm not."
"Tell me."
"No."
"For someone who likes to remind me they're much, much older than me, you're really acting like a five year old."
"It's called being stubborn," the Doctor informed her.
"Like a mule," she murmured.
"What?"
"Nothing," she sweetly returned. "I think perhaps I'll do a bit of reading." Rose waved the Jane Austen book she held in her hand then fell back on to the couch and gently opened the cover. "I do hope you won't interrupt."
She watched him walk a few steps away from her then turn and move towards the couch. He then came to a sudden halt and walked away again. Except he made it only a few inches further before turning back around and making the short trek back the couch.
"It was supposed to be romantic," he stated.
Rose lowered her book.
"What was?"
"I was going to ask you what the answer to life, the universe, and everything was. Then you'd answer 42 and I'd tell you that you were wrong. And you'd say you weren't. I'd insist you were and show you the book."
"And why would you show me the book?" Rose inquired.
He turned the pages towards her and she let out a giggle before looking up at the Doctor.
"Really?"
"Of course. I wouldn't lie about that. Rose Tyler is the answer to many questions whether they be trivially mundane or exponentially important."
"It's still romantic," Rose informed him. "In fact, it may be romantic enough for me to stop reading and show you just how much it meant to me."
The Doctor's face lit up as he grinned.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," Rose answered, setting down the book and rising to her feet. She pulled the book out of his hands then pulled him down into a kiss. She released him then fiddled with the edge of his tie. "So, Doctor, the library or Rose Tyler?"
"Definitely Rose Tyler," he told her. "Always Rose Tyler."