Her voice permeated his thoughts like sunlight breaking through the clouds. He had been enjoying himself tonight, but not without his share of dark thoughts, most of them to do with Rose.

To say he was conflicted tonight was putting it very mildly. When he'd first saw her standing with the other victims of the Wire, he'd been unable to disguise his happiness and relief. They'd embraced, hugging one another tightly as always, but the hug, which had started out innocent enough, had become something else entirely by the time they broke apart.

He'd just been so glad she was okay that he hadn't been able to let her go, even after the hug had ceased to be a simple show of affection and had become something bordering on a desperate need to keep her close, keep her near him. Finally he'd pulled away, unable to meet her gaze, lest he do something crazy like kiss her, or tell her he loved her.

He did love her, that was never in question, but he'd always kept that declaration a secret. It was a lot easier to pretend that they were just really good friends than it was to deal with all the pain and heartache that would inevitably accompany a closer connection.

People left. It was a sad truth he had learned all too well over the centuries. Sometimes it was because it was simply time. Sometimes they died. And sometimes, well sometimes the changes in himself were too much for them to handle. Regeneration was a difficult thing for anyone but other Time Lords to comprehend. After nine hundred years, he had learned that lesson pretty irrevocably. And normally his control was impeccable. It had to be.

Tonight, was different. It was one of the reasons he'd spent most of the night mingling with the locals, dancing with the children, laughing with the parents, discussing menial human things. His past self would have hated that, but he had quite enjoyed it and it had kept his mind off of Rose, and off of what had nearly happened to her.

He'd nearly lost her. It was a thought that kept circling his mind, refusing to let go, refusing to leave him.

He'd come close to losing her before. But not in this body…not as close as it had been this time. And it terrified him. He thought that because he'd healed somewhat since he first met her, that he could handle it if it came to that. He'd be upset…he'd be devastated, but he'd go on. He'd survive.

But now he wasn't sure. The anger he'd felt when he saw her face, stripped blank, her body abandoned, had consumed him. He'd been ready to tear the world apart in order to get her back.

And now that he had her near him, he didn't want to let her go. It was why he'd kept his distance during the party. He was afraid that if he got too close to her, he'd take things further with her than he should. And now, it looked as if he was doing just that.

He'd been the one to offer his hand, to ask her to dance, to pull her close. He couldn't have stopped himself if he had wanted to. And even more frightening, he hadn't wanted to.

He wanted to make sure she was still there, still tangible. He'd needed to touch her, to reaffirm to himself that he had been able to save her. He had been able to get her back.

When she'd smiled at him, agreed to dance with him, he'd been utterly lost. And here he was, holding her close, gazing at her face – a face he'd nearly lost forever and wanting nothing more than to touch it, to caress her cheeks, her eyes, her lips and know that she was his and no one else's.

It was stupid. It was idiotic. It would only get him hurt.

But it was necessary.

"Doctor?" she repeated, sounding slightly breathless. "What are you…?"

"Rose," her name left his lips almost as a sigh before he bent to kiss her, gently at first, then more deeply, more demanding.

He shouldn't be doing this. There were a million and one reasons why he shouldn't, but at this point he couldn't think of a single one of them. All he could think about was the way she felt in his arms, the way she moaned into his kiss, the way she ran her hands through his hair, the way she pulled him closer, demanding more.