That night was the first night with the coral back in the Doctor's possession. So much had happened that day that its events seemed enough to fill several days. Rose had experienced this trick of the mind before, especially since meeting, and reuniting with, the Doctor. As she lay wrapped around the Doctor, her head resting on his shoulder, she realised that it had only been that morning that she had discovered the coral in Donna's bag. Donna was probably on the night train to Paris right now, thankfully complete with the Doctor's forgiveness.

Rose lay listening to the Doctor's steady heartbeat and the rhythm of his breathing and watched her fingers as they played involuntarily with the hairs on his chest. They had made love when they returned from their leisurely dinner and he had dozed off shortly after. She smiled as she thought of the things they had done to each other; she had missed being with him, had forgotten how wonderful it could be. How amazing it was to feel him writhe and moan, digging his fingers into her flesh and crying her name as he came. It filled her with so much love and joy and mischief she thought she might burst. It was the next best thing to coming herself.

"I still can't believe I nearly lost you." His words came as he traced lazy patterns on her skin with his fingers, and she was more surprised at the non-sequitur than at its cutting sharply into the chirping that seemed to come from the garden painted on the walls. She wanted to reply that she couldn't either, but this was about her now. Instead of replying, she merely snuggled closer to him, humming to herself. He pressed his lips to her forehead.

"You would have never known," she said eventually, finishing the sentence in the privacy of her mind: if I had been killed that day. The thought was too disconcerting even now. And it was debatable, of course, if things would have developed the way they had had she died. With a shiver she remembered her first job after the incident, which had been to ensure that Donna met the Doctor.

"I'd really like to hear about it, Rose," he said, playing with some strands of her hair. She lay there for a minute or so, quite still, concentrating on the rhythm of the rise and fall of his chest. Everything that day had happened so quickly, had passed by in such a blur that, like today, it was hard to believe that it had all happened in one day. Time and again she had tried to sort through her memories, to make sense of them, but she had always failed. All that remained were snippets, and often she was not even quite sure if they genuine memories or if she had conjured them to fill in the blanks.

"It was because of an alien device," she began tentatively, and she felt the Doctor's grip tigthen around her as an encouragement for her to go on. "We had been given it for safekeeping by a stranded alien. We knew it was some sort of medical device, and when Tom analysed it – Tom Milligan, he's head of Torchwood Medical – he found out that it could be used to fight viral diseases. Very powerful, and highly classified."

"What kind of alien was that?"

"The Frix'oq."

"Never heard of them."

"Unique, it turned out, just like the two of us. Lots of folk seem to end up here," Rose offered. "Just like driftwood – Torchwood should be called Driftwood, really. But then again, that's what we're for, taking in the stranded. Even in Pete's World. Only the Rift opens in London rather than in Cardiff."

"Rose," the Doctor interrupted. "You're babbling."

Rose laughed and kissed whatever bit of his skin she could reach. "Learned that from the best." She paused.

"Still the device was stolen," the Doctor concluded.

"By one of our own. There are black sheep everywhere," Rose said wistfully, almost ashamed. "Torchwood here is nothing like Yvonne Hartmann's Torchwood. Pete and Mickey made sure about that." When he merely hummed in reply Rose knew that this was not quite what he wanted to hear, and Ben's betrayal cut deeply through her with new force.

Again, only the sound of the chirping of the crickets filled the room. Rose studied the patterns the slatted moonlight painted on the frescos.

Again, his soft voice woke her from her reverie. "If you don't want to tell me, that's okay."

"It's not like that, Doctor," Rose said. "I just don't remember. It happened so fast I didn't even feel pain until I woke up in hospital." She deliberately omitted that fact that she'd had to have surgery. "The guy who wanted to buy the device off Ben – he's the one who stole the device – suddenly wasn't alone any longer when things became difficult for him. He and his cronies also had some knives, and before I knew it... well, the world went black around me. We've been required to carry weapons ever since." Rose closed her eyes as she enjoyed his fingers playing in her hair. It was such a soothing gesture, as though he wanted to make up for not being able to be with her when she had needed him most. But then again, she had not been there for him either, because she had for once listened to him and given up her search for him.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there for you," she said, a wave of shame washing over her. She still did not know why she had given up her search for him, even when he had asked her to.

"Don't," he whispered, but didn't offer any further explanation. Rose didn't press him. There would be a time and place for him to explain why he had run away. His grip loosened, and Rose felt him relax even more as he slowly drifted into sleep. She smiled, kissed his chest and whispered, "Good night, my love."

-:-

Rose was perfectly content to just sit in the shade of the cloisters, reading her book and watching people mill about in the garden. The Doctor was sitting on the balustrade that separated the lawn from the flagstones, sketch pad on his knees. Occasionally, a tourist would sneak a peek at what he was drawing, which would make him and he would frown as their shadow fell across the whiteness of the paper. He would, however, indulge children, she had noticed, explaining and showing things to them. He will be great with Tony, she thought as she watched him lift a boy to sit beside him on the warm stone of the balustrade.

She shook her head. This man was and yet wasn't the Doctor. As he sat there working he radiated a calm that she had only rarely glimpsed, even when he had sat studying a book in the TARDIS library. Or the night before last, when he had picked up her book, content like she was just to get lost in someone else's adventures. Had his accident brought about this change, or was it the fact the he was now a human? Should she be glad for this?

His outstretched hand swam into focus, and he was waggling his fingers. Rose looked up and slipped her fingers into his. "Let's go for a walk," he said, sketch pad tucked under his arm.

She let him lead the way, glad she had put on her flat sandals because the flagstones could be quite tricky to negotiate. The streets were so narrow here that cars were not allowed and even the sun had difficulty reaching the ground; which made the midday heat that more bearable. Still, Rose felt drowsy. It had been a long night, for all the right reasons she thought, smiling.

"Rose?"

She snapped out of her reverie. They were standing in the central square which was dominated by the narrow clock tower of the town hall and crowded with natives and tourists alike who were browsing the stalls of the week-long market that took place as the town celebrated its patron saint. Flags had been raised and part of the square had been covered with sand and wood shavings for the horse race that was to take place at the end of the week. Rose had been imagining that night, the streets lit by thousands of torches, under which people celebrated in traditional clothes. She had seen photos in a guide book she had browsed when she and Donna were in town.

"Yeah, sorry," she smiled, giving his hand a squeeze. "I got a bit carried away. Must be quite a party on Saturday."

He grinned his brightest, most mischievous grin, so full of promise and of himself. "Can I show you something?"

Rose nodded warily, but let him guide her to one of the stone benches at the back of the loggia that reminded her of the one in Florence, although it wasn't quite so grand and filled with potted plants rather than statues.

"It's something I found out about yesterday," he said, tucking one leg underneath him so he could face her. He gestured for her to do the same. "Don't expect too much, it's still very weak, and it might not work for you at all, but, Rose," he stopped abruptly, gesturing helplessly, beaming with hope and happiness and excitement. She recognised the child in his eyes, and her heart went out to him. "This is so brilliant! The things we could do! Just imagine!"

"What things?" she asked, laughing. "What are you on about?"

"Time travel!"

Rose blinked.

"Time travel," she repeated, looking up at him from beneath her lashes, sceptical.

"Do you trust me, Rose?"

"You know I do."

She watched him dig in his pocket for the coral, and as he held it out for her, she reached for it to take it, but his fingers closed around hers and the coral.

"Close your eyes."

Her eyelids fluttered shut, not very difficult considering how tired she was. She shuddered as she felt his free hand cup the side of her face. He still had his telepathic abilities, and he was going to use them on her.

"Doctor... "

"I want to show you what it was like, life in the 14th century," he whispered, almost too softly to be audible in the constant drone of voices from the market. "Is that all right?"

Rose swallowed. "I guess so."

"You and me... travelling again." She could hear the laughter in his voice and couldn't help smiling.

"Yeah."

"Touch my face," he said, and she raised her free hand to cup his cheek, imitating his touch on her face, fingertips resting on his temple. "Don't be afraid. You can shut a door on me whenever I come too close to something you don't want me to see. You just have to imagine it."

Rose nodded.

And then he was inside her head, his presence light and as soothing as he could to minimize her distress, still she gasped for breath and she both heard and felt him shush her gently. She remembered the doors, and swiftly closed some of them, apologising as if wanting to hide a messy room from a sudden visitor. He smiled reassuringly, letting her know it was okay.

"Are you okay?" he whispered.

"I guess so," she said. "Aren't you closing any of those doors?" She was tempted to crane her neck.

"You are brilliant, Rose Tyler," he chuckled. "Ready?"

He then did something that released the coral's warmth, and she could feel it creep up her arm and spread throughout her whole body, but most of it rose to her head. It was a bit like getting drunk quickly, and the world around her – the Doctor's mind – went fuzzy and she felt strangely afloat, her body as well as her mind, before she was able to catch of glimpse of the Doctor's mind.

"Not quite yet, Rose," he whispered. "It's too soon for that."

"'s okay," she murmured, very drowsy, and very drunk. She felt very much like she was in a dream, free to wander about, leaving her body in the bed to rest while her busy mind tried to grasp what was going on.

"Go on, don't be scared," the Doctor encouraged her, and as she opened her eyes, he held out his hand for her to go for a walk with him. Reluctant to leave the safety of the loggia, she took it and stood, and she dared to look beyond him and the small space that was theirs she could see the market was still busy.

But the people. They were not wearing period costumes and making do with their hairstyle. This was the real thing, real people in their real clothes. This was the 14th century. Gone were road signs and street lamps and trailers, the potted plants that had shielded them in the shade of the loggia. Changed were the buildings around them, some of them were gone, replaced by others, all new and still in good repair. But oh the noise of the people and the animals; the air was filled with shouting and crying and braying and clanging and cackling. And the smell! Fruit and cooking smells were mixed with the sharp tang of tanned leather and unwashed bodies and waste both human and animal.

Rose recoiled and let go of the Doctor's hand.

She could feel his arms come around her as she slidoff the stone bench. But he caught her and wrapped his arms protectively around her, holding her close to him. She was sucking in the air greedily, as though she'd been under water too long, and it was only when she realised the sweetness of the air, its cleanness, the scent of the Doctor and his soap, that she allowed herself to calm down.

"I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry," the Doctor said over and over again, rocking her gently, pressing a kiss on her temple.