DISCLAIMER: I do not own Doctor Who. Not one little bit. Neither do I own Marcus Foster's amazing song "I Was Broken", which is the inspiration for this story. I do heartily recommend giving it a listen before you read. It'll help set the tone, if you're into that.

In my time I've melted into many forms
From the day that I was born,
I know that there's no place to hide
Stuck between the burning shade and the fading light,
I was broken, For a long time, but It's over now.

To say he'd been hard on her might've been an understatement. His TARDIS had been lost. He had almost been lost. Earth had almost been lost, and for what? Nothing, really.

No, he stopped himself. That wasn't true. It was her father, a father she'd never really known in her lifetime. A void like that, no matter how small it may seem to him, was probably irresistible to fill. Surely he could understand that now. If the Doctor had been given a similar chance, with his people...

That hadn't stopped him from completely blowing up at her the minute they returned to the TARDIS. Rose learned quickly why they had called him the Oncoming Storm. Voice booming, hands flailing in the air in frustration, a look of chilling rage buried just behind his crystal blue eyes. He threatened, raved, and shouted til he felt sure Rose would turn and run, or worse, demand to go home. Still, he couldn't bring himself to stop.

Unsurprisingly, Rose gave as good as she got. Sometimes he forgot how strong she could be. How stubborn. How set her ideals were to her, even if they differed from his. She raged right back, shout for shout. If the Doctor had stood and watched her for even a moment, he'd of seen how devastated she was about what had happened. How she'd almost lost the most important thing in her world. But he was blind in his anger.

Refusing to break in front of him, she chose her last words to him carefully and coldly.

"Just another stupid ape, me. What the hell do I know? S'not like you've never been faced with a hard decision about something you love, have you, Doctor?"

They stared each other down for another heartbeat, then she turned and stalked down the corridor to her room.

He sighed, and rubbed his head in his hands. As much as he'd hated to admit it, he'd made a right arse of himself today.

What was wrong with him? It was like his gob always got the best of him in this body. He found himself wondering, longing for the silver tongue of some of his other incarnations, or at least some of the gentleness. He'd never gotten so muddled up and explosive with companions before, had he? Well, maybe. But it never felt like this, like his hearts might finally give out if she were to decide this was their last adventure. Like not having her here with him was something beyond wrong.

He wasn't sure how long he'd stood in the console room, drowning in his aggravating thoughts, but he knew this would get him no where. The Doctor took a few steps toward the corridor Rose had disappeared down. He knew her room was there, not much farther. A few more steps, and he stopped.

He could hear her from several doors down. Deep, heavy sobs. A shuddering, ragged breath. Mournful, and so alone. Quickly, he turned back.

Always the coward, me.

He knew he needed to make this right. To make some sort of amends, at least. But how?

Wandering back to the console room, he felt the TARDIS pushing him towards the display gently, as though she wasn't sure how he'd react to her suggestion. He drew a finger softly over the coordinates, turning them over in his mind. Perfect. So bloody perfect. Why hadn't he thought of this himself?

A strange sort of lightness swept over the Doctor as he dashed and darted about the console, maneuvering dials and levers until the rotor began its familiar wheezing groan. Yes, this was perfect. Perfect, unlike him. But that didn't matter. Maybe at least this would help to patch things up. Maybe just a little.

A lurch, and a final groan and the TARDIS stilled. They were here. He flew to the door, and hesitated.

Please, please let this be the right place. Let me have landed her where I needed, for once. Let her see something beautiful, let it show her...

As he began to open the door, he heard her soft footfalls behind him. The Doctor spun on the spot, and their eyes instantly locked from across the room. He felt his chest constrict at the expression on her face. Fear. Sadness. Desperate hope.

"We've..." She trailed off, scared to finish the sentence. "We've, uh, landed...? I heard the engines from my room..." Rose shuffled nervously, tugging on the hem of her hoodie. She swallowed hard, and hoped she'd cleaned her face enough so that it wasn't quite so obvious she'd been crying moments earlier. She hoped fervently she wouldn't burst into tears again in front of him now.

"Rose Tyler," he said, breathlessly. "I'm..." He faltered. When he raged, he couldn't keep the words from running out, and now? Now that he needed a softer tone, his words failed. Instead, he stretched out his hand to her, beckoning her closer, begging for forgiveness with his eyes. "Come see."

He opened the doors slowly, hoping he'd ended up where he'd intended to be, and heard Rose's sharp intake of air at the sight before them. Filling their field of vision ahead of them was a vibrant nebula in all shades of red, from the richest burgundy to the palest magenta. The stars themselves glittered like someone had thrown a fistful of diamonds into the vastness. They shimmered a cool, hard blue, contrasting with the diffused warmth of the cloudy nebula.

Long moments passed in silence as they stood together in the doorway. Rose stared at the remarkable sight before them, and the Doctor couldn't keep his eyes off of her. The TARDIS's shields kept them safe and warm, he had no worry of that, but it was her reaction he sought. Humans felt everything so deeply, and he found himself craving to see this as she did, to hear her exclaim or stutter or even give him that look. That look could make him feel as though everything was new again, wondrous and full of miracles.

Tentatively, he felt her fingertips seeking out his. The gentle touch tickled the back of his hand until her small fingers found their place, winding between his tightly. The Doctor could feel the tension in them both easing away.

"S'beautiful," Rose whispered finally.

"Caldwell 49," The Doctor replied. Or, the Rose Nebula. He didn't feel brave enough to tell her that part. Would probably laugh at him, call him sentimental, question his sanity. Or get ideas he wasn't sure he was ready for her to have, even if his head swam with them regularly, filling him to the point of bursting.

Rose snorted a small laugh. "Awful name for something like this. Figured it'd have some lovely alien name."

The Doctor chuckled quietly, squeezing Rose's hand a little tighter. "Time Lords had another name for it," he said, his desire to share his vast knowledge of the universe giving him an out. He closed his eyes, letting the chiming sounds of his native language echo out into the darkness of space. His voice took an edge of longing, almost reverence as the untranslated syllables died away.

When he opened his eyes, he was met with Rose's, brimming with tears. She was so still, and so close. He could hear her heart speeding up in the silence. The Doctor watched her eyes drop to his lips, her tongue darting out to moisten her own, before her gaze flickered back up.

He leaned down, ever so slightly, drawn in by the warmth of her breath. What had happened? Not even an hour ago they had been screaming at each other with such venom he thought they'd reached the end of their travels together, and now? Now he was breathless and wondering with increasing fervour how her lips would taste? How did they get here? How had he come even close to deserving this?

Sensing his hesitation, Rose withdrew a little. "That was," her gaze dropped and just as quickly pulled up again. "That was beautiful, too." She pulled back a little farther, the spell broken, flashing that beautiful grin at him. For all that, Rose still seemed shy. "Thank you," she said, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze.

"Rose Tyler, I'm s..." He faltered in his apologetic words once more, anxious to figure out what had just transpired, or had failed to as the case may be.

She smiled again at him, then a strange expression crossed her face briefly. Emboldened by what, she wasn't sure, but she reached up and pulled his face closer to hers. The Doctor's respiratory bypass kicked in as he felt her breath, hot against his cheek, followed quickly and intently by the pressure of her soft lips. It only lasted a moment, this kiss, but it felt infinite to the Doctor.

Rose tipped her face down, away from the Doctor's. Her wild blonde tresses tickled his chin, and he breathed slowly, trying to memorize every sensation, every scent. Sweet, like her shampoo, and something else. Risking another deep breath, he could taste the dizzying swell of hormones flooding her system, temporarily drowning the Doctor's senses. Was she...?

"I know," she whispered, snapping his focus back to the present. She sighed and pulled back again, straightening herself, as though trying to shake herself into focus as well. "Let's just... be better, all right?" Rose squeezed his hand again, lifting her eyes to meet his firmly, "Maybe you can try not losing your temper so dramatically, and I can try not to ruin the fabric of space and time, yeah?" She grinned, the tip of her tongue peeking out flirtatiously between her teeth.

He chuckled, and ducked his head, breaking their gaze. "Suppose you're on to something, there." He squeezed her hand in response, and could feel the remaining tension ease from the air between them.

"Maybe, yeah."