Welcome, and welcome back, readers, to chapter two of this horribly-named fic. I don't particularly have anything much to say about this chapter... Except, I hope you enjoy it!

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters or Doctor Who. They are the property of the BBC. And I also don't own the song "A Total Eclipse of the Heart." That's Bonnie Tyler's.

Oh, also, forgot to apologize previously for any American-ized writing and phrases and the like. I'm trying to get rid of them, and if I catch them I change them, but alas I don't quite speak the British lingo. So, apologies for possibly butchering your language.

The voice, when it spoke again, was full of scorn and bitterness. You idiot. You just ruined the best thing that's ever happened to you.

The Doctor ignored it as he furiously thrust his sonic screwdriver into the depths of the TARDIS's machinery. He had once again retreated to his favorite sulking spot: underneath the TARDIS's grated floor and behind the panel covering most of the intricate wiring. He wasn't sure what, exactly, he was doing, but it was probably something that he would need to fix later, when he had calmed down a bit.

You know what she's doing right now, you miserable sod? The thick northern accent reverberated around the Doctor's mind, giving him a headache. She's in her room, listening to that stupid Bonnie Tyler song over and over again and crying her eyes out. Because of you.

"Yes, thank you very much," the Doctor answered through gritted teeth. "I think I've had about enough of you."

Oh, have you? Well, okay then, suppose I'll just scurry off, leave you to your tinkering, yeah?

"Sounds good to me."

Well, tough. Because I'm here until you stop being a git and tell her you love her.

"I can't."

You can.

"I can't."

The voice let out a frustrated groan. Yes, you can. There's nothing physically stopping you except your own stubbornness and thick ideas.

"God, would you just shut up?" He accented the last word by slamming his fist into the floor, a loud cracking sound accompanying the punch, as well as an angry hum from the TARDIS. The Doctor held open his fist to reveal that his sonic screwdriver had broken in two. He stared at it forlornly. "My sonic screwdriver," he said sadly. "I love my sonic screwdriver."

That's what you did to her heart, times about 5 billion.

And I need you now tonight.

And I need you more than ever.

And if you only hold me tight

We'll be holding on forever.

Rose lay face up on her bed, staring at the ceiling and singing at the top of her lungs, trying to drown out the sound of the Doctor's words echoing in her head. She had moved past crying now, into numbness. The walls of the TARDIS blasted out her guilty pleasure song so loudly that she could feel her bed vibrating beneath her.

And we'll only be making it right

'Cause we'll never be wrong.

Together we can take it to the end of the line.

Your love is like a shadow on me all of the time.

She couldn't believe that she had been so wrong about his feelings. She wouldn't. She knew he felt something for her, something much more than friendship. She had seen the way he looked at her, the love – and lust – in his eyes. She'd felt the fire between them, fire that left a burning trail when he stroked her cheek or ran his hand up her arm or traced circles with his fingers on her hand. She felt his hearts beating faster when they hugged, staying wrapped in each other's arms for just a little longer than necessary for "just friends." She felt the way he clung to her hand, as if it were the only thing keeping him alive, keeping him sane. She couldn't have read all those signals wrong, could she?

Sure, he was a bit of a flirt this time around. Well, maybe last time around, too. . . . But, more so in this regeneration. This wasn't flirting, though. This was something deeper. More connected. More intimate. More real.

No, she knew he loved her. But for some stupid reason he was pushing her away again, and she had no idea why. Honestly, sometimes she felt like she knew him better than he knew himself, and others times he was a complete stranger. Why did he keep doing this? What was so wrong about them being together?

I don't know what to do and I'm always in the dark.

We're living in a powder keg and giving off sparks.

I really need you tonight.

Forever's gonna start tonight.

Forever's gonna start tonight.

Rose groaned and flipped over onto her stomach, burying her face in her pillow. This song really said it all, didn't it? Everything about their complicated relationship, their unspoken feelings, their potential. The sparks between them that went off every time they touched. She couldn't be the only one to see what they could be, to feel those fireworks.

She just didn't understand what was so wrong about them being together when it had felt so right. Nothing had ever felt so right. Everyone always said that perfection is impossible to achieve, but Rose and the Doctor had proven them wrong last night. How could perfection be wrong?

Once upon a time I was falling in love,

But now I'm only falling apart

There's nothing I can do...

A total eclipse of the heart

She felt like she was in a dream. She had seen so much in such a short amount of time: alternate universes, the end of the world, the London Blitz, daleks, cybermen. A planet in orbit around a black whole. The devil. So many things that normal people couldn't ever even begin to imagine. She thought that nothing would surprise her anymore.

But last night had been beyond her wildest imaginings. She loved the Doctor, of course, entirely, with every molecule in her body. And she knew he felt the same way. She dreamed of being with him. But that was all her imaginings were: dreams. Fantasies. She had never even considered that they would ever actually move past friendship into . . . well, something else, whatever it was. What did you call a Time Lord and a human in a relationship? Was there some special name for it?

Was that what this was? Was there some traditional Time Lord ritual that was supposed to happen now? Was he waiting for her to do something? Was that how this went with Time Lords? Sleep together, and then the female . . . does something? Oh, for all Rose knew, she was now supposed to dance around the TARDIS console naked with a plethora of watches dangling around her neck, doing some Gallifreyan chant.

Although from what little the Doctor had told her about the Time Lords that seemed just a bit unlikely. . . .

Once upon a time there was light in my life,

But now there's only love in the dark

Nothing I can say...

A total eclipse of the heart

No, what seemed more likely was what Rose originally thought. The Doctor was trying to push her away, like he'd done when they first met, and again when he regenerated. Well, she wouldn't have it then, and she wouldn't have it now. If he wanted to push her away, he was going to have to push harder than those scrawny arms of his would ever be able to. Rose wasn't going anywhere.

In fact, she was going to make him realize what, exactly, he was missing out on.

The Doctor stood once again at the TARDIS's console, watching the mechanism as it remade his sonic screwdriver, almost hypnotized by the whirring, robotic movements. There was a welcome silence in his head ever since he had broken the screwdriver, but he was fairly certain that that wouldn't last long.

In truth, he knew that the voice – whether it was actually his previous regeneration come back to viciously berate him, or it was his subconscious using the voice to speak, he didn't know; most likely, both were true – was right, and he was being beyond horrible to Rose. And she didn't deserve that. But he couldn't help but feel that if they took that next step, and something went wrong, it would be even worse for her. And she certainly didn't deserve that.

In passing, the Doctor wondered if maybe it was time she went home. She deserved a bit of normalcy. A chance to live out the normal life he could never have. He'd already done the family thing, had had children, even a granddaughter.

God, he hadn't thought of Susan in so long. Or rather, he hadn't let himself think of her. She was gone now, along with the rest of his family. The rest of his species.

But Rose had her entire life ahead of her. She shouldn't waste it hung up on some lonely Time Lord. She should be out finding a job, a husband, a house. That was the real adventure, wasn't it? At one time, he had hated that life. He would have done – well he did do – anything to get away from it. Now he secretly longed for it, for something slightly resembling normal. But he could never have that. If he even stood still for too long he was bombarded with the memories of his family, his people. And the death of them all. No, his life now, with Rose, was as close as he would ever get. But she deserved better. She deserved normal.

But he couldn't just dump her back in London with her mum. He'd promised her forever, if she wanted it. He wouldn't – couldn't – back out of that, not if it was what she still wanted. He doubted he would even be able to just get rid of her anyway. He needed her so much. Much more than he ever let on.

And that right there was the dilemma. He wanted to be with her. He loved her more than anything. And she promised him forever. But forever for her was so much shorter than forever for him. Eventually she would be gone. If they took that next step, how much more would he come to need her? He couldn't imagine a time without her with the way things were now. And when she was gone, everything would be a thousand times harder. No, it was best to keep things how they were. It would save him – and her – so much heartache, in the end.

You just keep telling yourself that.

And the voice, unceremoniously, was back. He sighed dramatically. Wonderful. Ah, I was wondering when you would be joining me again.

Oh, you missed me. Sorry to keep you waiting.

The Doctor snorted. If by "missed" you mean dreaded completely, then you're right. I did.

Sarcasm. The voice seemed to laugh out the word. You aren't usually one for it, are you? That was more my thing. Wonder what it could be that's making you so defensive. . . .

"Oh, I dunno," the Doctor grumbled. "A voice attacking me in my head, maybe?"

And now you're talking to yourself. Is it possible that you've finally really and truly lost it?

He considered that for a moment. He'd been called crazy a few times before. Well, maybe a bit more than a few. But sometimes a person had to act crazy. Like, for example, when trying to distract whatever alien is threatening you. Sometimes crazy was the only way out of a bad situation.

Now, though, he was hearing voices, talking to himself, becoming unnecessarily violent towards inanimate objects. Was it possible that the very few remaining chickens had flown the coop, as it were?

"You could be right."

"Who're you talking to?"

The Doctor just about jumped out of his skin at Rose's voice behind him. He hadn't heard her come in. He hadn't even seen her, and he was facing the hallway that led into the depths of the TARDIS, the direction she would have come from.

"Rose!" he exclaimed, whirling around to face her. "Just . . . I was just talking to . . . the TARDIS. . . ." He trailed off as he took in her appearance.

There were no signs of crying or any hint of sadness at all, really. Rose's brown eyes were bright and full of her normal fire. Her cheeks were rosy and her mouth curved into a teasing smile. Her hair was different, somehow. She hadn't curled it so much as she had. . . . The Doctor couldn't think of the right word. Volumized it? Yes, that was it. Her hair was bigger, framing her face so that her eyes peered sultrily through rogue strands. Her eye make-up was more subtle, but she had added a rich red lip gloss to the ensemble.

And she was wearing a dress, one that hugged her form quite nicely. He could count the number of times he had seen her in a dress on one hand, and that included the one she'd worn when they'd met Charles Dickens. The Doctor stared at her curves bemusedly, his eyes working his way down her body. The hem cut off just above her knees, but clung tightly to her thighs, showing off the curve of her hips. He had never noticed just how long and slender her legs were. And the shoes! She was wearing heels, blue to match the shade of the dress, but they were massive! The Doctor couldn't fathom how she was standing in them, let alone how she had managed to sneak up so silently behind him.

"You look. . . ." Beautiful. Fantastic. Stunning. Mouth-watering. The Doctor's mouth was bursting with compliments, but just as he was about to blurt them all out, there was a sharp noise that sounded like the timer on a microwave going off. He turned to see that the TARDIS's console had ejected his sonic screwdriver, all fixed and nearly good as new. The Doctor took advantage of the situation, shrugging his shoulders and turning his full attention to the sonic screwdriver. " . . . Nice," he finished, dismissively.

Oh, very good, the voice drawled. Really. Fantastic save.

"Wow," she said, her voice gathering a bit of a teasing edge. "'Nice.'" She sidled up beside him and leaned her side against the console, her eyes peaking up at him through her eyelashes. "That's quite a compliment from you, isn't it? Especially when you call werewolves and clock robots beautiful. But me, I'm just 'nice,' yeah?"

He wanted so badly to turn to her and proclaim her undeniable, unsurpassable beauty, tell her that nothing would ever be so beautiful as she looked. But he couldn't. He had to stay strong, to not give in to those primal desires that were bubbling up in him. He chewed the inside of his cheek. For Rassilon's sake, he said to himself, you're a bloody Time Lord. You're better than those human urges! "Well, you know," he said, fighting the desire to look at her, "I see you every day. Do I see werewolves and clock robots every day?"

"Oh," she said, smiling. "So you've just become accustomed to my beauty, is that it?"

Well, there was no safe answer there. She'd trapped him, really and truly. So instead he said, "Besides, if there's one thing I love, it's practicality. Now that's truly beautiful." And here he did look at her, staring pointedly at those immense heels and the way the fabric of her blue dress clung to her. "How are you ever going to run in that?"

"And Madame de Pompadour's clothes were so practical. I'm sure that's why you were attracted to her."

"Oh, come on," he groaned. He really never would hear the end of Reinette, would he? "That was a completely different time period. She couldn't very well go running about in jeans, a t-shirt, and trainers, could she?"

She laughed. "S'pose not." She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, leaning closer into him. "But, Doctor, a real woman knows how to. . . ." She drifted off, pausing as she thought of the right word. The Doctor was captivated by her eyes, leaning closer until he could feel her breath tickling his face. "How to . . . maneuver in outfits like these." As she spoke, she slid her hand up his arm until it came to rest just below his shoulder. She squeezed his arm lightly, as her hand softly stroked it.

The Doctor's eyes flicked quickly down to her mouth, then back up to her hypnotizing gaze. Just do it! He couldn't tell if it was the voice shouting at him, or his own. Tell her how you feel! Kiss her! Something! He couldn't think straight anymore. Why was he so against this again? He leaned in slowly, his hand reaching up to tangle in her hair.

But suddenly she pulled away from him, pushed off from the console and made her way over to the only seat in the console room. The Doctor was left with his body bent at an uncomfortable angle, his hand frozen in midair inches from where her head had been only moments before.

"So," she said brightly as she perched herself on the chair. She crossed her legs and leaned back, perfectly relaxed and seemingly unfazed by what had just happened. Or not happened, rather. "Where to next?"