He was gone.

Rose sat up with a start once her drowsy mind registered the lack of his presence. His side of the bed was untouched, and as she craned her neck she could not see him sit outside either. Her heart was in her mouth, and memories of finding his bed in her flat empty flooded through her. She found it difficult to breathe, unable to move for fear of finding nothing, or, worse, a note. Telling her that he could not rest, stay in one place. With her.

Not now that he had got his coral back, that Donna had gone. His anger had been bubbling close to the surface, well-guarded save the dimple in his cheek. True, Donna should have returned the coral much earlier, but how was she to know how important it was to him, what it was in the first place? He had never once mentioned it, not even to her, for whatever reason. To protect her, probably. To make her stay by his side.

And now he was gone. Again.

Her mobile phone chirped with the tone she had assigned to Jackie's number. Trust her for her impeccable timing. Rose let it chirp a second time, a third, before she picked the device up and flicked it open.

"Hi." She had to try to sound normal.

"Hi!" She exhaled in relief. The voice was Tony's.

"Hello, little man. How are you?" Why was it always so much easier to cheer up for him than for her mum?

"I miss you," Tony pouted.

"I miss you, too."

"When are you coming home?"

"Not just yet, Tony. I'm on holiday."

"Oh! Is it nice?"

"Very. It's very hot where I am. I have to take a nap in the afternoon because of it. Have you had your nap?"

"Yes, of course!"

"Silly question," Rose smiled. "Can I talk to Mum?"

"Okay." She could hear him hand the phone back to Jackie.

"Hello, sweetheart," Jackie said, at the same time shooing Tony out of immediate earshot, telling him to go play with his lego bricks. "How are you?"

"Fine, I'm fine," Rose said, when all she wanted to do was cry that he was gone again. "The Doctor was released from rehab unit today."

"Is he alright?"

"Yep," she said. It was not exactly a lie. She did not know. "Listen, we're going to stay here for a couple of days longer. Is that okay?"

"As long as you're back for the garden party."

Oh dear. She had completely forgotten about the annual Tyler Garden Party, the most important of their charity events. It was also one of the few society events she really liked, and she was loath to miss it. Last year she had gone despite her injuries.

"You haven't told him," Jackie said.

"No."

"You have to tell him, sweetheart."

"It's not a good time, Mum," Rose said, settling for part of the truth. "There have been so many other things to care of."

Jackie didn't reply immediately. "I see." She seemed to remember Bad Wolf Bay. "Listen, sweetheart, we would love you to be back for it, but if things between you and the Doctor still need sorting out – take as much time as you need, right? Sweetheart?"

"Thanks, Mum."

"Are you sure you're alright, though?"

"Yes."

"I don't believe you. Call me when you need me, okay?"

Rose smiled. Trust her mother to notice even over the phone. "I will, thanks, Mum." Then she rang off, but remained sitting on the bed, unmoving for a while, until she could no longer avoid getting up to use en-suite bathroom.

When she padded back into the main room, she noticed the Doctor's carryall. It was open, and both his sketchpads were missing; they were the last things he packed on top of everything else to be able to retrieve it quickly and to make sure they weren't damaged. Despite herself, she turned around, following an instinct, and went to the old table by the painted shrubbery. One of his sketchpads was lying there, open to a drawing she hadn't yet seen.

It was a rough pencil sketch of her, lying stretched out on her side on the bed in her knickers and camisole, one hand dangling over the edge of the bed, the other curled beneath her chin. Sleeping. Then she found the note she had so dreaded finding. Sweet dreams, my love. I'll be back soon, I just can't rest. The Doctor x.

Rose sat on one of the two deliberately mismatched chairs. Then she read the note again, scribbled beneath the edge of the bed in the drawing. Had he addressed the girl in the picture, or was this note actually for her? She wasn't so sure of it any more.

She stood to put her dress back on and twist her hair into some sort of knot to get some cool air into the nape of her neck. But that was all she could bring herself to do. The drive to do something, anything deserted her just like that. She just stood in the middle of the room, unsure of where to go, what to do. It seemed so hard to make a decision, even a simple one if she should go and sit outside, or have a drink of water, or read a book, or lie down and sleep this all away to see upon waking if this hadn't just been a dream.

Rose had no idea how long she had been standing like this, unable to move, unwilling to move, unknowing how much energy was still left in her to be strong for a man who was neither here nor there. She turned her head as she heard the soft click as the key card was pulled through the slot and the door opened. Heard him enter the room, putting down a paper bag and his sketchpad on the table, moving to stand behind her.

Finally he cupped her bare shoulders with his hands and bent his head to drop a kiss onto her shoulder, her spine, the other shoulder.

"I don't know if I can do this," she eventually said, head still turned to one side. He drifted his fingers down the long line of her neck. "You, wandering off just like this. Waking to notes. Waiting for you." She stepped away from him, turning around to face him. She felt a sudden need to look him in the eye, to face his answer.

"I'm sorry."

She inhaled deeply. "Don't, Doctor. I want you to tell me what's the matter. 'Cos if you don't, I might walk away, just like Donna. She had no idea. Nor did I. How could we possibly have known? Eh?" Rose took a step backwards. She did not recognise this calm rage of hers.

The Doctor squared his jaw and raised his chin a little. But the dimple would not appear, she could see that even in the dim half-light of the room. "You're right. Yes."

"Well?"

"I should have told you earlier," he said.

Rose felt something in her soften. She had not expected him to admit to this so readily. "Why didn't you?"

"I was afraid. Terrified, really," he began, "not admitting the coral was gone was such a beautiful lie. Humans do that, don't they, give up hope last? Even if it's against hope. I felt trapped, what those dreams did to me... you have no idea. To be reduced to this whimpering thing in the darkest corner of the room. Knowing that this body needs sleep, and dreams… And I am afraid of losing you. I've already managed to scare away Donna." He smiled mirthlessly, his eyes wide and full of apologies, full of the words that he really meant.

"She felt really bad about it, you know."

"What those dreams did to me… for a moment I felt at her mercy, and she dropped the coral so casually, in that thing, as if it were just something. Meaningless."

"You can't blame her."

"I know!" he cried, frustrated. "I know." He gestured for the sketchpad he had taken with him. Rose went to the table, opened it, and found a crumpled letter under the cover flap. She didn't recognise the handwriting. "It's from Donna. She sent it to me a couple of weeks ago. I couldn't understand it then. Go ahead. Read it."

Dear John,

I feel a bit ridiculous for writing to you even when I have no idea if you can understand my words at all, but it seems fitting, since all our conversations have been like this. Yet it fills me with an odd feeling of comfort to keep in touch with you. Sending this to you over thousands of miles does not make you any more distant from me than talking to you in hospital – you've always been miles away there, too, after all. I do not know why that is so, but I dearly hope it's not because of what I've done to you. For which I still feel horrible. My carelessness has shaken me to the core, and there's nothing I wish for more than being able to turn back time and brake in time for you to cross the street unharmed. So I guess what this letter is about is one last time for me to ask your forgiveness, hoping that there'll be a way for it to reach you. I hope that one day you will be able to do this for me, so I can forgive myself.

I am back home now, with my husband and son, but in a way I am still with you. And they know that. They send their love along with their best wishes to this stranger that has so affected me. They do know you just as well as I do by now, and none of us can imagine someone being so alone. I have looked into your eyes, the saddest, oldest and kindest eyes I've ever seen, and I've wondered who you are. Who's hiding in there.

In a fortnight's time I will be able to get another couple of days off so I can come and see you. Hopefully to meet your loved ones, and to address you by your real name. Or if not to find out about them. It's the least I can do.

Love,

Donna

Rose went to her bedside table to pick up her mobile. "You have to tell her, even if it's over the phone," she said, holding the device out for him. He accepted it, and Rose left the room to sit in the loggia, with her back to him. Part of her was still mystified by and afraid of his sudden anger, and she hoped that this was because he was still adjusting to life with the coral back. Never before had she seen his temper fly so high, at least not undeservedly. He had seemed heartbroken enough when he had realised what his wandering off had done to her, so she decided to drop the topic. Maybe she had overreacted a little, too.

It took him a while to join her outside, and when he came he brought her a peach, its skin smooth from the cold water he had run over it to get rid of the dust. It was like a peace-offering, and Rose accepted it in surprise. She bit into it, the flavour of the yellow flesh exploding on her tongue. It was so juicy, it dribbled all over her chin. She sat up, laughing.

"This is delicious," she giggled, chewing. "Where did you get them?"

"There's a market in town," the Doctor offered between two bites of his own peach. "They were just packing up. I was lucky to get the last. Really, those Italian markets are wonderful! You can get everything there, fruit, vegetables, chickens, those ugly monkfish – but they're delicious, really, and they have just one bone, too, clothes, books – all kinds of books, new and old, I… "

"Did they give them to you just like that?"

The Doctor frowned, then realised, scoffed: "Nah, I paid for them. Made a bit of money, drawing the castle, views of town, the landscape, that sort of thing, you know."

Rose nodded, eating her peach thoughtfully. "That's how you got by when you were travelling." It wasn't a question.

"Donna sends her love," he said after a while. He finished his peach and put the stone on the coffee table between them. He rested his elbows on his knees and looked intently at Rose. She bent forward, brushing some juice off his chin with her thumb.

"Thanks." Rose stood and moved to sit on the settee next to him. He turned towards her, reaching around her back with his arm. "Can you just hold me, please?" The Doctor leaned back into the cushions, and Rose lay down to snuggle up to him, her head resting on his chest where she could listen to his steady heartbeat. He began to play with her fingers as she was tracing invisible and very intricate patterns on his chest.

They were content just to sit like this, listening to the crickets and swallows in the quiet heat of the afternoon. No sound of the town managed to get as far as their loggia outside the city walls. Rose could feel her mixed emotions untangle and change into something more peaceful. A moment of calm such as this wanted to be made the most of, as it was so rare in a life with the Doctor. At one point, he had stopped playing with her fingers, just held them, but when they slipped out of his limp fingers and his cheek rested on the top of her head, Rose smiled. He had fallen asleep after all.

"I love you, Doctor."

For some reason telling him that as he was dozing felt right, maybe because she was still not sure he felt entirely comfortable in that role, loving her as an equal, as a human. The shock about the TARDIS coral and its recovery was still so raw and new she did not want to make him feel cornered, forced into a life with her. Because life with her was not like his old life, made up of travelling time and space and running for their lives, never staying in one place long enough to form attachments of any sort. Life with her meant doing the domestic thing, even when they could spend some of their time travelling. Contact with alien worlds would be strictly limited to whatever appeared on the Torchwood sensors.

And there was the business of her being the Vitex heiress, of course. There had been no chance to tell him about that yet, and what life in public meant. Her family tried to limit it to an absolute minimum, keeping her brother out of it completely, but there were some occasions at which they had to be present and represent. They would present their public characters, roles, they took on and played. Rose was not sure how he would take to that role of hers, charming, all smiles, perfect at small talk, knowing exactly how to deal with people so she would be exactly who they wanted to see. But then again, she was a different woman when she worked for Torchwood, too, tough, ready to make decisions, unpopular ones when necessary, brave, reckless sometimes. But also taking her time to step back so she did not miss the bigger picture. A Rose he knew.

The Doctor sighed in his light slumber, and took a deep breath. Rose smiled. She worked open the buttons on his shirt, from the topmost he had cared to button up, to the very bottom one. He had not tucked the tails of his shirt into his trousers because of the heat, and because he did not look as awfully skinny this way. Rose slid her free hand underneath the fabric, running her hand up his side, to draw it across his chest and back down again over his stomach. This she repeated a couple of times, until the smattering of hair across his chest caught her attention. She had just meant to touch his skin, to be even closer to him, so when she accidentally brushed his nipple, she was startled as the touch elicited a soft sigh from him. He raised his head, and when she looked at him, he looked rested, and calm. He was smiling.

"Hi," she said.

"I like that," he replied, his voice a little gravelly from sleep.

Rose smiled, tip of the tongue between her teeth. "Do you, now?"

"I could get used to falling asleep like this," he murmured.

"I just woke you."

"You're a wicked woman," he said, kissing her gently. "But wonderful, too."

Rose grinned and moved to trail sweet little kisses over his chest, brushing back the fabric of his shirt.

"Rose?"

Rose hummed to let him know he had her not quite undivided attention. When he didn't go on, she stopped her caresses and rose to straddle him. Her eyes, when she looked at them, were wide and dark and liquid with desire.

"Doctor?"

"I love you, too."

His arms came around her as she closed the distance between them to kiss him.