Several updates in one day, whoo hoo! (Don't come to expect that from me... haha) Well, this next chapter is in response to a prompt from the lovely Lizzy Lovegood, taking place the evening after "The Idiot's Lantern." Again, if there's a particular scene you think there should be an alternative spin on it from any Ten/Rose episodes, let me know and I'll see if I can work it in! Thanks again for the support, everyone!

"Found another one, sir." Footsteps.

The Detective's voice. "Here you are, Doctor, take a good look. See what you can deduce." The form of a woman, her upper half hidden by a black sheet, the hem of her pastel pink poodle skirt just visible beneath her coverings. The acceleration of his heartbeats. The sweat on his palms.

The swish of fabric as the woman is unveiled.

Horror. Fear. Heartbreak.

"Rose."

The murmur of voices behind him, unknowing, hardly caring.

"I found her in the street… abandoned."

"That's unusual…"

His own voice, rough and gravelly with disgust and fury, speaking to the men at his back but keeping his eyes glued to her completely blank face. "They did what?"

"Sorry?"

"They left her where?" If he were a snake, he would be spitting venom.

"Just… in the street." They are unaffected by this fact. How dare they not care? Do they not understand the severity of the situation?

Anger. Pure, undiluted anger, filling him to the brim until he's nearly overflowing.

"In the street? They left her in the street? They took her face and then just chucked her out and left her in the street? And as a result that makes things…simple. Very, very simple. Do you know why?"

"No…"

"Because now, Detective Inspector Bishop, there is no power on this Earth that can stop me!"

The Doctor woke suddenly in a cold sweat, his hearts beating abnormally fast and limbs tangled up in the sheets. His breathing came out quick and shallow, and it took him several moments to realize where he was and who else was safe and sound in the room down the hall. As both his breathing and heart rate returned to normal, the Doctor disentangled himself from the bed fittings and stumbled around the room to find his dressing gown. He knew that Rose was safe, that she had both her face and her mind back, but he still wanted to make sure, extra sure, and put his own mind at ease.

The TARDIS hummed softly as he crept down the hall to Rose's room. To his surprise, when he reached it, the door was slightly ajar and there was a soft glow of light from inside. He rapped his knuckles softly on the polished wood before peering in.

Rose was awake despite the lateness of the hour (well, actually there wasn't a defined "time" where they were; they were currently floating idly through deep space, but she had been awake for over eighteen hours by now and it was definitely time for sleep), propped up in bed with a journal on her lap. She looked up to meet his gaze as he poked his head around the door. A soft smile lit up her face.

"Come in," she said, jerking her head as an invitation, and her request was followed. The bedsprings creaked a little as he climbed in beside her, leaning back against the headboard and sticking his legs out straight in front of him.

"Is this Howard's old thing?" Rose asked lightly, tugging at the sleeve of the dark blue dressing gown the Doctor wore. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"Hey, I have fond memories wearing these jim jams!" he said warmly. "Won a sword fight with the Sycorax leader in these, I did."

"Oh, I remember," Rose said, nudging his shoulder with hers. "But is something bothering you, Doctor? You don't normally come in here in the middle of the night."

"Technically it's not night at all, we're in space with no orbit or sun or even a concept of time of day, the TARDIS is completely idle—" the Doctor explained automatically, avoiding Rose's question. She let him ramble on about the inner workings of time and space for a minute and eventually his voice trailed away.

"Doesn't matter," she said finally. "Something must be wrong, though, you look all pale and worried…" She reached up to slowly stroke his clammy cheek with the back of her hand. His eyes slid closed at her touch and it was a while before he spoke.

"Nothing of importance, just some unpleasant dreams," he murmured, keeping his eyes shut.

"Does that happen often? Nightmares?" she asked, the tone of her voice sounding somewhere between childlike and motherly, if that was possible.

"Well, not really," he said, shrugging a little, "because I don't sleep much. Sometimes, I suppose."

"What do you dream of? Gallifrey?"

Something about the sound of his home planet's name rolling off Rose's tongue made the insides of his chest flutter a little, and he turned his head to look at her. The yellow glow of the lamp illuminated half her face and its twinkling reflection danced in her chocolate brown eyes.

"Sometimes I dream of Gallifrey, and sometimes that's good and sometimes that's bad. Not tonight, though."

"What was the nightmare about tonight, then?"

The Doctor hesitated; goodness knows he was never one to talk about his feelings, despite how soft and emotional he secretly was. He suddenly became aware of the fact that Rose had taken a hold of his hand, and was now lightly tracing patterns into his palm. Without realizing it, he began to speak.

"I was having terrible dreams about what happened today. I was just re-living it, really. The moment when the detectives brought you in with a sheet over your head, and told us they'd found you abandoned in the street, and your face was gone… I had no idea if the process was reversible and I was so angry that someone would do that to you… Rose, I can't begin to explain to you how upset I was."

Rose smiled sadly. "It's not the first time we've found ourselves in a sticky spot, Doctor, and we always manage to find a way out in the end."

"I know, but they chucked you out in the street, Rose! It's hard for me to bear to think that there are some creatures in this Universe that would treat you like that."

Rose squeezed his hand gently. "I'm alright, really, I am," she said. She shifted so that she was lying on her side, propping herself up on her elbow still holding his hand, and the two fell silent for a while. Rose's eyes never left the Doctor's face, and she watched as he began to blink slower and slower.

"I don't think you sleep enough, Doctor," she said quietly, brushing his hair back from his forehead ever-so-lightly.

"I'm fine," he said, but his words came out slurred.

"Come on, you're practically asleep already," she said, amusement coloring her tone. "You can just stay here."

His eyes snapped open, though only for a brief second. "Are you sure?"

Rose laughed, "'Course I am!"

"But the sheets are pink…" the Doctor whined, though he helped Rose pull the blankets back and squirmed in under them just the same.

"Quiet, you," Rose joked, and plopped her journal on the floor before shutting off the light and sliding under the covers as well. She rolled over in the dark, and as her eyes started to adjust, she just able to make out the planes of his peaceful face. She had just let her own eyes close when he murmured, so quietly she thought she had imagined it, "I love you, Rose."

Her heart skipped a beat and her whole body suddenly felt very warm and fuzzy in the best way possible. He sighed in his sleep; she didn't think he was even aware of what he had just said.

Rose had never felt so safe and happy as she did now, snuggled in bed, all warm and safe and comfortable, in the TARDIS with the ridiculous man she had no way of knowing would infiltrate her life the way he had.

"I love you too, Doctor," she whispered into the night.