The bouquet she had discovered was never brought into question; instead, that morning when she saw him, she sent a warm smile at him. He returned it with another smile.

Sometimes late at night she thought about the conversation they had that day. Her heart wrenched in her chest as she remembered the way she felt. It was terrible, thinking about being replaced by somebody she loved. It was worse when that person left you again for a second time. She felt like he didn't care, that the possibility of romance between the two was all a silly fantasy concocted in her head. It hurt. It always hurt and it never would stop hurting.

But now, after that time where the sun was setting and she was alone with him, she had something to hold on to. He was a copy, and although at first it had bothered and tortured her, she had realized that the things the copy felt were the things the real Doctor felt. And if the copy carried such an intimate disposition for her, she could stop hurting.

If only it were that easy, though.

When such thoughts persisted to keep her up at night, she would slip out of bed and down the quiet, dark hallway. Often she would find a room with a light on, and inside that room he resided, hair perfectly messy as he worked things with his hands, surveying things through the frames he wore. Some nights she wouldn't tell him she was there and just silently gaze upon him. Other nights, she would, and he would smile widely with his arms out, welcoming her to him. From there, she would observe him wordlessly, fascinated by the things he performed. It was hours before she went back to bed; if she was with him still in very early morning, they would start a conversation, her babbling on about something half-asleep and him grinning lovingly as he listened to her rambles.

Tonight she went to sleep without a problem. She had drifted off quickly without a thought in her mind or a worry tugging at her. Right before she had gone to her room she said goodnight to the Doctor, who was reading another magazine in the living room. From over the rim of the glasses he looked at her, giving her a small nod with a tiny grin on his face and a soft goodnight. The word stayed in her head until she laid down on her mattress.

Normally, she didn't dream. Her mind was always blank, even after large events that struck her deep down. Tonight, however, was different. After she had fallen asleep, fuzzy blobs of random hues appeared, slowly fading into a more focused picture. In front of her was the Doctor, in his blue suit looking statured. His face is solemn, forehead creased and hair waving back in the wind that surrounded him. He didn't say anything for a long time, lips pursed and looking away at something she couldn't see. It seemed like hours before he suddenly jerked his head in her direction, eyes stony as he parted his lips and said plainly, "Goodbye, Rose."

He turned again, walking away from her into a bright light. It surrounding his body, making him look like a god of some sort, being taken away to the place where the divine settled, perhaps among the stars where he belonged. In her ears, she heard a voice scream for him to come back, but he had vanished into the light, not one trace of him left. She felt as if she were going blind while searching for any sign that he was still there, even if it was just a piece of something that had belonged to him, or even something that reminded her of their time spent together. Suddenly she was on her knees, gripping at whatever ground laid beneath her, sobs wracking her body. One word escaped her lips, calling out to the man who had just disappeared.

He wasn't a man, though, he was an alien. A man would have stayed with her, had a little heart. An alien would be foreign to all human feelings. An alien would disregard everything and leave her behind.

He doesn't love you.

She awoke with a start, heart racing. Her breathing was loud and jagged, filling the silence of her room. Her mind was blank other than the image of the Doctor walking away from her, not looking back despite her screams of protest. Slowly, her eyes adjusted to the darkness of her room, shapes becoming more prominent than just shadows on top of one another.

Her eyes drifted to the alarm clock beside her bed. The red light hurt her eyes to look at. It was almost two in the morning. She repositioned herself on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, trying to drift back to sleep. It felt like she had been awake for hours as she observed every little detail of the ceiling, an occasional though passing through her head before disappearing again. Her heart had returned to normal speed, its beating faint in her ears.

After some time, she rolled over again, checking the clock. Only twenty minutes had passed. She sighed, bringing her hands to her face as her dream suddenly came back to her. Her heart became pained every time he heard her name escape her lips, weighted and heavy as he disappeared over and over again, without end, without any hope that maybe this time she could grab him.

Outside her door she heard the quiet shuffling of feet, the floor creaking slightly as well. She sat up, looking in the direction of her partly open door, trying to place herself in a spot where she could stare out. When the door proved to me an obstruction to her view no matter what way she sat, she got out of bed and went to her doorway, placing one hand against the edge. The hallway was devoid of light. She went out into it, turning around the corner and heading down it. As she went on, a sliver of life was found; she followed it to a door that was barely cracked open. She approached it, reaching out her hand to grab the doorknob when it was opened suddenly. Jumping back, she saw the Doctor, glasses on and hair sticking out all over. As he saw her, he jumped himself, blinking at her.

"What are you doing awake?" he asked.

"I was going to ask the same about you," she whispered.

He grabbed her wrist, pulling her into the room, shutting the door behind him. In front of her lay a variety of tools and metal pieces. It looked like he had been working on whatever he was doing for some time now. "What exactly are you doing?" she asked

"I'll tell you that," he said, moving a few pieces before turning back to her, "when you tell me what you're doing awake." He crossed his arms and gave a cheeky grin.

"I had a nightmare," she murmured.

"A nightmare?" He approached her.

"Yeah, but it was stupid," she said, looking down at her fingers. "Don't worry about it."

"If it was stupid, you wouldn't mind telling me what happened then?" He raised an eyebrow.

She looked up at him, shaking her head. "You- you just disappeared," she said, trying to keep an indifferent expression.

"I disappeared?"

"Yeah," she continued. "You said, 'Goodbye, Rose,' and walked away from me and... disappeared." Her lower lip quivered, tears pooling in her eyes.

His stare was full of concern. "Are you sure you're all right?"

She nodded, but a tear slipped from her eye.

"Rose," he said, eyes clouding with slight hurt.

"I'm fine," she went to say, but her voice cracked. She fell to tears, refusing to look at the Doctor. He suddenly wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly to him. "It was a dream, Rose. I would never, ever leave you." He rested his cheek on the top of her head. "I'm here for you. You're the only reason I'm here."

The words hit her, causing her heart to flutter. More tears came to her eyes, but this time at the thought the Doctor lived through every day because of her.

"Do you mean that?"

"Yes, I mean that!" He lifted his head, pushing her slightly away and lifting her chin up gently with his fingers. "Rose Tyler, the reason this form of myself is living, breathing, going on is because I have you. I didn't want to think of you going through heartache every day, because if it hurt you as much as it hurt me..." He hesitated, eyes getting red as she stared up with him with wide eyes, tears trickling down her cheeks for an entirely different reason than before. "Rose, I think of you every day, every hour, every minute. Even when I'm not with you, even when I was still on the TARDIS, it was and still is the thought of seeing you that motivates me to keep pushing forward." He stopped, clearing his throat. "I'm not what you would exactly call a romantic. But with you I... if you don't mind clichés, I feel like singing." He gave a laugh. "Do you want me to stop before I get too... mushy?" He wrinkled his nose at the word.

She laughed, tears running down her face. "I think we already reached that point."

"Oh." He gave an embarrassed lopsided smile.

"Don't worry," she said, wiping tears away although they kept coming. "I..." She hugged him, feeling his heart beating through the fabric of his shirt. "I don't know what to say," she murmured.

"It's okay," he said back softly. "Sometimes the best feelings can't be put into words."

She buried her head into his shoulder, tears dampening his shirt. "I love you," she whispered, eyes clenched shut.

He leaned his head over, resting it on top of hers. His hand stroked the back of hers as he murmured something back. She couldn't understand him, but the way he spoke it warmed her inside. For the first time in a long time, she felt secure. If she fell, she had a cushion beneath her, strong arms to hold on when she wanted to let go. He wasn't an apparition like the one on the beach so long ago. They were both new people, both with one heart and a brilliant, magnificent mind.

And he wanted to share it with her.

She didn't know how long they stood there; she soon found herself dozing in his arms. He gently shook her. "How about we get you to bed?" he said softly.

Rose opened her eyes slowly, staring at him sleepily. "Hmm?"

He gave a small smile, his eyes shining as he looked down affectionately on her. "Let's go put you to bed."

"You sound like my mum when I was little," she sighed.

With one arm around her, he took a step forward. Feeling his nudge, she followed him. They left the room and went down the hallway. He led her into her room, pulling back her covers as she laid down. Kneeling beside her bed, he rested his arms on her mattress, eyes filled to the brim with a certain joy that seemed indescribable.

"Why are you staring at me like that?" she asked him.

"I like being with you," he said.

"You don't look at people you like being with like that," she said.

"How am I look at you then?"

"Like..." She paused. "Like you're in love or something."

He grinned, leaning forward to kiss her forehead. "Goodnight."

"Wait."

He heard her voice as he stood and turned to leave. Looking back, he answered, "Yes?"

She was staring at him with wide eyes. "Will you stay here with me?"

"What?"

She tilted her head. "You like being with me, and I like being with you," she said. "In that case, will you please stay with me?"

"In your bed?"

"It's not as if we haven't done it before."

"Yes, but your mother wasn't across the hall either."

She grinned. "I'll deal with her."

The Doctor stared at her for a moment before returning the grin and climbing into bed with her. He set his glasses on the side table, turning back and wrapping his arm around her. He exhaled loudly, his fingers resting in her hair, playing with it gently. She nuzzled her head into his shoulder, drifting back to sleep in no time.

He stayed awake for longer, taking in as much of the moment as he could. Something stirred within him; something he hadn't felt in a long time. It worried him at first. He knew the feeling a bit too well, trying to hide it so when the person he connected the feeling to left him it wouldn't hurt as much. It was silly pretending he never felt it, and now, as she fell asleep in his arms, he knew he didn't have to put on a shield anymore. She was going to be with him for the rest of his life.

He fell asleep with a smile.

Jackie found them in the morning, opening the door to wake Rose up when she saw the Doctor's back. Their legs were intertwined, Rose's head resting near his chest. His hand still lay on her head, fingers wrapped around the strands of her hair.

Jackie stared at the two, observing the content look on both of their faces. She didn't jump to any conclusions, seeing as they both had clothes on still. But there was something about the look on her daughter's face that moved her: the look of absolute peace. She hadn't looked anything like that before, and now, in his arms, everything was different.

She closed the door again, leaving the two alone.

The Doctor awoke first, smiling softly as Rose's face came into his view. He ran a finger across her cheek. She didn't wake up for another few minutes, smiling as well when she saw him.

They didn't get out of bed until almost noon.

The bouquet arrived the next day. She found them on her dresser, eleven orange daisies with one red rose. As she admired them, she found a little note on the side. Holding it in the palm of her hand, she read it:

Quite right, too.