It was about a week since they'd left Jackie's. They were still floating in the vortex, soundlessly hurtling though space, but they'd yet to pick a new destination.

The Doctor knew that Rose needed time to process the event on Satellite Five just as much as he himself did. New teeth, new mannerisms, new hair (and quite brilliant hair if he did say so himself). It was a lot to get used to. He was still biting his tongue when he ate, and just yesterday he'd tripped over his new feet. The difference was that he'd had time and time again to get used to the process. On the other hand, the Doctor was frankly surprised that Rose was still on the ship at all (though he was anxiously starting to expect that was going to be short-lived).

When she'd taken his hand in the not-quite snow and snuggled up to his side, he had foolishly thought that they were okay. He'd foolishly held out a hope that things would go back to normal. When they went back in the TARDIS, though, Rose had immediately scurried away to her room.

He'd let her go. She obviously needed some time to process things, and he was probably the last person she wanted to see.

He didn't see her the next morning. He had prepared breakfast for two — a peace offering — but watched it go cold as he picked at his own. After finishing, he decided to go find her. He was almost to her room when she appeared, walking towards him. Her hair was unbrushed and she was still in her pyjamas as she shuffled towards the galley.

With a mumbled "good morning", she'd brushed past him without meeting his eyes. Now, Rose Tyler was notorious for being cranky before her morning tea, but her cold demeanour was doing nothing for his concern. He'd considered saying something, insisting she tell him what was wrong, but he was afraid to push her while she was clearly still uncomfortable with him.

This went on for days. He'd see her occasionally in the galley or the halls, and she'd once come to the console room briefly. He'd put on his best smile and tried to give her a simple "hello", but this new mouth seemed to have a mind of its own.

When she didn't reply to his greeting, he felt an uncontrollable urge to fill the silence.

He looked around frantically for something to talk about.

"You know, Rose, that's an interesting pattern on your shirt."

He waited for her to prompt him to explain. She didn't.

"Well, yes, um… You know, those swirls along the bottom look quite similar to Rapturian hieroglyphics. Interesting race, the Rapturians. Have three arms, and one of them is not where you'd expect…"

He could tell Rose was listening, she was looking at him intently, but still no comment. Part of him brain (probably some leftover bit of his last self, come to think of it) was screaming at him to shut up. Go back to working on the TARDIS. Something. Anything but keep rambling. Unfortunately, the Doctor was never one to listen to himself.

"You know, the Rapturians have a particular fascination with jam. They absorb liquid and nutrients through their skin, you see, and they like the feel of it in the hands. That's about the equivalent of one of your lot saying they like the buttery-ness of a good scone. Well, not exactly. But that's the idea. Not every species has the same layout of the senses. Even Time Lords have some differences there. Well, most of the differences are just in the number of them, really. Humans are a bit lacking in that regard. No, sorry, that was rude again, wasn't it? Was that rude, Rose?"

He'd trailed realised that Rose hadn't uttered a sound to interrupt him through the course of his spiel. On top of that, her eyes had wandered from his own to his flailing arms. He relaxed his outstretched limbs sheepishly.

"Sorry." he muttered.

Rose stood up. "I'm gonna go…" She trailed off, clearly looking for an excuse. Unsuccessful in coming up with one, she turned away and left the room.

He'd almost cried out for her to stay. Not to leave him alone and wonder just where the affection that he'd once seen in her eyes had gone.

But he hadn't.

And so now, he was left doing what he always did when he had too many thoughts in his head: Crawling under the grating, the Doctor set to repairing those circuits damaged from their last adventure.

Having the energy of the time vortex ripped out of her and then put back in was bound to do some damage to even the sturdiest time ship. Add on the fact that he'd regenerated inside the TARDIS and you're looking at more than a few blown fuses.

A few hours and many burnt fingertips later, both the Doctor and the TARDIS were getting a bit tired of the tinkering. He was definitely not at his most dexterous and she was getting a bit annoyed by the third time he fumbled the spanner. He tried to wipe some grease off his nose with limited success, mostly succeeding in spreading it around.

Maybe Rose has some of those makeup wipes with her. He thought. Worked wonders last time. He blushed, thinking of the incident.

Rose had visited him during his tinkering with a sandwich and tea. Always knew when he was in need of a break, she did. He'd crawled up from the sea of wires and happily stuffed one of the halves in his mouth.

Rose got a curious look in her eye and her nose had scrunched up like it did whenever she was trying to solve a problem. She left for a minute and then came back with her makeup kit, pulling out a fresh wipe. He'd been too startled to protest when she attacked his forehead with the moist cloth nearly dropped the sandwich.

She moved on to his cheek and her tongue poked out from between her teeth, her brow furrowed in concentration. He didn't dare move or disturb her, but sat there with a dumb look on his face with wide eyes and his mouth parted.

"There!" she said, pulling back and examining the dirtied wipe. "All clean."

She grinned at him, then looked down. "You gonna eat that?"

What? He looked down. Oh, the other half of the sandwich. He'd been too afraid that any attempt at a response would come out more like a squeak, so he'd simply shaken his head.

Her smile broadened. "Thanks."

The Doctor smiled sadly at the memory. Getting up, he walked in the direction of Rose's room.

He reached her door and contemplated his options. He'd visited her room plenty of times before, but that was before the regeneration. Before she began avoiding him.

Should he knock? What if she told him to go away? What if she let him in but asked him to take her home? What if she wouldn't even talk to him?

In the end, the Doctor decided to knock. He couldn't count the number of times Rose had yelled at him, asking if Time Lords had any concept of the act. Maybe it would warn her towards him.

He tapped softly on the door. "Rose?"

No response.

He tapped again, a little louder.

"Rose? Are you in there?"

He got no response, but heard a crash from inside. Concerned, he opened the door a sliver.

With the door open, the Doctor could hear the faint noises of the shower running in the ensuite. She'd probably dropped a bottle of something. But what if she'd fallen?

With growing anxiety, he stepped inside the room. Then he saw the bed.

Piled on the bed were some of his jumpers. There was a black one sticking out from underneath the covers, and his green one lay crumpled in a ball on a pillow, a depression beside it from where Rose's head had been resting. There was a wet spot on the pillow and the Doctor felt his throat constrict, thinking of the tears that must have caused the dampness.

He walked over to the bed and picked up the jumper, finding the same dampness on the sleeve.

Oh, Rose.

He wondered briefly where she'd found the jumpers. The TARDIS had cleared out his closet at his request after he'd found a suitable replacement outfit, but he'd assumed they were put back into the wardrobe room. Maybe they were, he mused. How was he to know that she didn't get them from there?

It was then that the he realised the shower had stopped running. How long had it been off?

As the thought crossed his mind, the Doctor watched in alarm as the ensuite door opened and Rose stepped out in nothing but a bathrobe. She was running a brush through her hair and started to walk towards him, but the moment she looked up she froze.

"Doctor? What are you…?" He eyes fell to the jumper in his hands, and then to the others on the bed. Her cheeks, rosy from the shower, went pale in an instant. "I can explain."

The Doctor dropped the jumper, waving his hands to try explain for himself. "Rose, I-"

"It's just…" she interrupted, her eyes filled with tears. She turned her head away shamefully. "I miss him. I miss him so much and it's… The jumpers, they…" She took a breath, trying to keep her emotions at bay. "They still smell like him, and I can pretend that he's still here."

She lost the battle with her tears, but still tried to swipe them away before they could run down her face.

The Doctor felt his own eyes burn, but managed to hold any tears back. "Rose, I'm…" he struggled for the words. "I'm still me. Him. Whatever you want to call it. Just because I changed faces doesn't mean anything else has changed."

Rose nodded half-heartedly, but he could tell she was still wasn't understanding. Whether or not she wanted to believe him was besides the point. To her, he didn't feel like the Doctor anymore, and he didn't know how to fix that.

Rose sniffed and wrapped her arms around herself. "Do you think…" She shook her head.

"What?" he prompted.

A deep breath. "Do you think I could have a hug?"

The Doctor laughed in relief, more air leaving his lungs than he'd realised he was holding in. "Oh, Rose. You can always have a hug."

He opened his arms wide and she hurried into them, throwing her arms around him and burying her face in his chest. There was an instant where she tried to hold herself together, but it didn't take more than a moment before she let her emotions out in a sob. His hearts broke for her as he heard the grief and pain that she'd been hiding for this long.

He held her all the tighter and shushed her soothingly, running a hand up and down her spine. He rocked back and forth on his heels and pressed a small kiss to the top of her head.

It took a few minutes for the tears to subside, but when they did, neither party loosened their grip. They stayed like that, basking in the comfort of each other's arms until the Doctor broke the silence.

"It's okay to miss him, Rose." She nodded slightly into his chest. "In fact, you know what?"

She tilted her head up to look him in the eye. "What?" she croaked.

"I miss him a little, too."

Rose let out a watery laugh.

"It's true!" The Doctor feigned an indignant tone. "I burned my fingers twelve times today. Twelve times. And you know what I missed most? Those old, callused fingers of mine. Pretty, they were not. But you could have pricked me with a needle and I would have barely felt a thing, I swear."

A grin lit up her face and his hearts soared.

"I like the hair, though." she said.

The Doctor ran a hand through his locks delightedly. "It is nice, isn't it? Don't know if I've ever had hair this nice. Well, my had a decent head of hair a couple regenerations ago, but the point still stands."

Rose giggled.

"What?" he asked.

"You are so vain, you know that?"

His jaw dropped in mock-affront. "Rose Tyler, you take that back!"

"Nope." Her grin widened and he couldn't help but smile back.

"The cheek!" he exclaimed. "So this is the respect I get on my own ship. What is this world coming to?"

Rose laughed again and hugged him tighter.

"Doctor?"

"Yes, Rose?"

"We're going to be okay, yeah?"

He gave her a squeeze and tucked her her beneath his chin, cocooning her. "Rose Tyler, we are going to be absolutely fantastic."