Stargazing and Meditations
There are some nights that she cannot sleep because it's too quiet. She is terrified that if she closes her eyes she will wake up, alone in Torchwood, surrounded by formulas and theories and books about maths and physics and alien tech and time travel and dimension jumping.
She gets out of bed and pads quietly out to the kitchen to put the kettle on. Rose stares, distractedly, out the window until she hears the click that lets her know it is time to make her tea. She doesn't need to look at the clock to know it is ridiculously late and she should try and get some rest but instead she takes her tea and curls up on the little window nook they made when they first moved in to their new house.
There are no lights on but she knows her way around well enough that it doesn't matter and she'd rather not disturb this peace that she's managed to find. There is a bit of light shining from the garage where both she and the Doctor are still working on helping their baby TARDIS to grow. Part of Rose feels as though she should go out and help him now, and usually she would, but she is suddenly quite cozy and is no longer feeling nearly as restless as she had been.
Somehow just the reassurance of knowing that the Doctor is only a few feet away is enough to quell her anxieties. When they first got back to Pete's World they were terrified of losing sight of each other and whilst they still refuse to be parted for more than a few hours, they have calmed, somewhat anyway. For example, they no longer have a desperate, fearful need to constantly hold hands, terrified that if they let go for even a single moment one of them will disappear forever. Now, they just do so because they are the Doctor and Rose Tyler and it's what they do, it is how they communicate.
She looks up at the night sky and it suddenly occurs to her that she no longer thinks of the Doctor in the other universe all that much anymore. She wonders if she should feel guilty about that before shrugging off the thought. It doesn't really matter, after all, aside from her mum, it's not as though she gave much thought for anyone she left behind on earth when she first ran off with him.
No, Rose Tyler is not one to allow for ghosts to take away from her present. Well, not counting those lonely years after Canary Wharf but that was hardly the same thing. She wasn't dwelling on her past then, she was merely trying to carve out the future she wanted, the future both she and the Doctor had earned, and she succeeded.
She shifts and looks back to the garage, realizing that the light is gone. The Doctor must have finished for the night then. A few minutes later she hears the kitchen door open and the rustle of fabric that says he is taking off his coat and the thunk of his shoes as he kicks them off.
Rose misses living on the TARDIS but she won't deny that she has come to love the quiet, domestic, intimacy their little house provides them. She will miss it she thinks, when their TARDIS is finally grown but then she will have the universe to look forward to. Perhaps she should follow her own philosophy and just enjoy right now for what it is and when it is time to go, they'll run.
The Doctor finally strolls into their small main room that functions as a living room/office/library, with his own cuppa, and stops when he sees her.
"I didn't know you were up."
Rose shrugs, "Couldn't sleep. Decided to have some tea and got lost in thought."
He walks over to her, gestures so that she shifts a bit, as he easily slides in behind her. She sighs and rests her head on his chest as she resumes looking out the window.
"Are you all right, love?"
Rose smiles, "Doctor, right now I am absolutely perfect."
He places his cup on a nearby shelf and wraps his arms around her, "What woke you? You were fast asleep when I went out to check on the TARDIS."
"I don't think I can sleep without you next to me anymore," it's the kind of confession that leaves one vulnerable but Rose is beyond worrying about something so silly with this man, not after everything they have been through.
She felt his breath hitch, "What is it?"
"Nothing, really," he said. "Just nice to know I'm not alone in feeling like that. What I mean is, I can't sleep without you either."
She turned, just enough so that she could see his face, "You're never alone in anything. Not anymore. Not with me."
"No," he agreed. "Since meeting you, the only time I was alone was when you were gone."
Rose couldn't stop the shiver that went through her at the reminder of their universal separation, "At least that's one thing we'll never have to worry about again," she paused for a moment, "Is that what you were working on? Adding the dimension cannon to the TARDIS?"
"I had a dream about white walls and couldn't get back to sleep, didn't want to disturb you being restless, so I thought, 'Maybe I should go recheck those calculations and the dimensional stabilizers.'"
"You wouldn't have bothered me but I do understand."
They were quiet for a time, content to stargaze and hold each other.
Quietly, the Doctor asked, "Should we go back to bed?"
Rose shook her head, "Not just yet. I'd like to look at the stars for a little longer. You don't mind, do you?"
"I don't mind at all," he placed a kiss on top of her head and leaned back against the bookcase supporting them.
Resting back against his chest and allowing his heartbeat to lull her into complete relaxation, she looked back up at the night sky and thought of all the wondrous places they would soon get to discover together.