AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Okay, so I looked through my old A/Ns and it seems that I forgot to let you guys know that I'll be focusing on mental health. Either I forgot, or I decided after my last chapter… which is entirely possible. I do have a pretty shitty memory.

So in this chapter, we'll address Rose's specific mental health issues that are obvious as of now. I'm not certain if more will pop up later, it's just sort of how her recovery goes and all of that.

We also see the Doctor's pain in this one, which has been sorely lacking thus far, and I apologize for that! I keep getting distracted (my worst issue when writing!) and forgetting.

Hopefully we can take a break from the drama after this chapter and the next - they were supposed to be one chapter at first, but they became too much for one, so I split them in two - and go back to episodes. I definitely wanna get through Long Game and Father's Day rather quickly, as they've changed a bit.

Something you might like to know about me is that I write chapters and post them as soon as I can, or after my beta gives it the go ahead… unless I'm feeling both confident and impatient. So I'm writing as quick as I can and giving you what I have, when I have it.

Oh! Something important to know is that the timeline of Torchwood has been changed a bit. I believe it started in 2007, and that's when Suzie died and Gwen joined them, but in this, things with Suzie and the glove happened sooner for the purposes of the story. Also, Gwen will not be joining Torchwood, because the situation in which she ran into them will never have happened. Future Rose visits often enough to help when they need a hand - which I might very well make into a side fic when I get to it - so Gwen is unnecessary.

Anyway, enough of my rambling.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: nightmares, aggressive reactions to nightmares/PTSD, abuse, talk of murder, talk of suicidal ideology, brief mention of cuts, generally not valuing one's life to a suicidal state.

I don't know if I need to warn about the mental health issues mentioned, but I'll give you a head's up real quick, just in case. I'd always rather be too cautious than someone get hurt by my fic.

Mentions: depression, anxiety, panic disorder, ptsd, chronic derealization.

Okay! That's about it. Enjoy! And as always, let me know if I've missed any trigger warnings and I'll add them right away.

Visitors From The Dead

Rose woke to a scream in her head, and she knew it wasn't her own.

She hopped out of bed and pulled a robe on over her pyjamas and ran to the Doctor's room, which had conveniently been placed across from hers. She pulled open the door quietly and shut it behind her after moving into the room. A quick glance around showed the Doctor in bed, fidgeting in his sleep.

She could still hear the screaming in her head, and it was like echos of something that she should know. Would've known. Whispers of the dead from someone else's memory, from the Doctor's memory.

She moved over to him and placed a hand on his arm, saying his name at the same time.

Things happened quickly, too quickly for her to easily process in her tired state.

The Doctor woke suddenly and grabbed her arm, gripping it painfully and shoved her back. He moved faster than she thought anyone that had just been asleep had any right to, but she didn't have much time to consider it as he shoved her to the floor and placed his arm on her throat, pinning her arms down with his body at the same time.

She wasn't sure what was happening, but she knew what to do.

She didn't fight, and didn't move. She just laid there, the only movement a slight wince and the only sound a quiet whimper of pain. The Doctor stared at her for a long time, too long, and she felt confusion and… anger?

Slowly, he removed his arm from her throat and she gasped slightly and took a shaky breath in. The respiratory bypass was helpful, but even so, she had to breathe eventually and she'd been nearing that point.

There was a tense silence for a long moment before she spoke, looking directly at him, his eyes, because she got the distinct feeling of shame and maybe that same anger as before, which she still didn't understand. "Are you okay?"

The Doctor blinked at her.

"Am I okay?" He scoffed, and she could tell he was only angrier, and maybe more bitter now than before. "Rose, I could've killed you."

"You didn't," she shrugged. "I'd have come back anyway."

"But I could've," he insisted. "If you'd- if you had moved, or fought, or struggled, I might've."

Rose laughed softly. "I know when I can fight and when I can't. Even if I'd thought it was a good idea - which I didn't - I know you're much stronger than me. And you stopped, in the end."

He stared at her like she was crazy, and she shifted under his gaze. He might've removed his arm but he was still pinning her to the floor, and it was starting to hurt. She wasn't surprised he couldn't feel it. She knew the feeling of uncomfortable adrenalin that came after a horrible nightmare, and she knew it could last a while. "Doctor…"

"How can you not care?" he asked her, his voice hard. "I've killed people, Rose, don't you understand that?"

"Of course I do, but-,"

"I was a soldier, I fought in a war. I killed too many people, too many realities and too many worlds. I commited genocide ten times over by fighting in that war, and I could've killed you!"

"Doctor-," Rose winced as he accidentally pushed on her arm with emphasis, and she felt something pop in an unnatural way, fresh pain blooming through her. She was pretty certain he'd broken it, even on accident, but she pushed on, focusing on the very important moment they were having.

"And you don't care!" he snarled at her, his eyes wild with memories of war and atrocities that haunted him.

"Do you want me to be afraid of you, Doctor?" Rose's voice was soft, and she refused to yell like he was, and it was much too controlled and calm in the Doctor's opinion.

"You should be!"

"Do you want me to be?" Rose asked again. "Because I've spent a lot of time being afraid. Too many years. But I said it to the Dalek, Doctor. I wasn't afraid of it because it hadn't given me reason to be."

"But I have-,"

"No you haven't," she shook her head firmly, twisting slightly under the pressure of his body but keeping her arm as still as possible. Her chest hurt from the weight, but she ignored it. "It's all about intent. Did you intend to hurt me? Did you, knowing I was there, mean to try and hurt me?"

"No, but-,"

"No, Doctor, it's my turn. Because you see yourself as a monster, I get that. But that is not how I see you, and I never will. Not until you intend to hurt me on purpose. Because you want to cause me harm." She took a deep, shaky breath and gave him as much of a smile as she could. "I see that darkness in you, Doctor, and it doesn't scare me."

The Doctor stared at her, and she knew he could feel the honesty and sincerity in her words and she knew he was so confused by it. He shifted slightly, having forgotten their position, and she gasped, pain shooting up her arm as another audible pop sounded, the Doctor hearing it this time.

The Doctor's eyes widened as he quickly rolled off of her and turned on the light right away to look at her arm. "Rose…" it didn't look like anything was wrong with it, but he touched it and she winced, pulling it back to her body.

"It's not that bad," she shrugged before he could say anything.

"I hurt you."

"I've been hurt worse before," she shook her head, brushing off his comment. His eyes widened and she realized her mistake. She sighed a little. "I'm serious. And I'm not upset."

"Maybe you should be."

"Why?"

The Doctor looked at her like she was crazy. "I don't understand how you can be so… careless, Rose. You almost died. Doesn't that matter to you?"

She thought about how she was always so close to death, not just from the danger of running with the Doctor, but because of the way her life went before the Doctor. A familiar feeling that she could never quite put into words crept up on her and she stomped down on it before the Doctor could catch a hint of it.

"No."

At that, the Doctor went silent, and she could feel the gears turning in his mind. She felt the need to change the subject, quickly before he kept asking questions - the same sort of uncomfortable urgency she'd felt when he'd been digging into her past.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked quietly.

"To- what?" the Doctor frowned at her. "Talk about what?"

"The nightmare," she answered, like it was obvious, though his mind was somewhere else entirely now. "The war."

He stared for a long moment at her. His immediate instinct was to say no, to change the subject and never talk about it again, the way any traumatized mind would, but a part of him, some traitorous part, thought that it would be… nice to get some of it, any of it off his chest.

So he stood up and reached for her hand - noting the fact that she ignored it and stood carefully without using her injured left arm - and they moved to a couch that hadn't been in the room when he'd gone to sleep. He made a mental note to fix her arm later. She was rather good at holding it close and not moving it, but he had a feeling it was broken, a thought he didn't want to dwell on. In the end, the TARDIS put bandaged and a sling on the table in front of the couch, and he wrapped up her arm silently before settling into the couch.

When they were sitting comfortably, he looked directly at her, making nearly uncomfortable eye contact. If she wanted to let him talk, he was going to watch her, and pay attention to her. He needed to watch the moment he became disgusted by him.

So he began.

OoOoOoOoOoOo

In the end, he'd told her bits and pieces, jumping around where he could because it had been a really very long war that lasted longer than he could even remember. He'd started probably near the middle because he couldn't really remember the beginning as well, mostly because he didn't need to. It was nowhere near as bad at the beginning. It had only gotten worse when they'd brought Rassilon back, and he tore apart the War Councils and put himself solely in charge of everything, along with a few of his twisted followers.

He'd watched Rose the entire time as he told her about launching a world of fourteen billion into the Void to kill one enemy - an admittedly rather dangerous one, but that didn't excuse the number.

And the most frustrating thing, was that she hadn't been horrified or afraid or disgusted. No, rather, she'd cried. And he felt her grief for those lost people as clearly as he felt his own.

He told her about anything he could think of and will himself to say aloud that he thought would horrify her, or make her want to leave. Not because he wanted her to, but because he knew that she would, once she knew everything.

But in the end, she just cried, and held his hand, and she hadn't said she was sorry because there's no being sorry for something like that. She'd simply hurt with him and grieved with him as he let some of it out, confessing his sins to the small, fantastic woman at his side who, he was starting to realize, really and truly wasn't afraid of him.

It wasn't much, but that night, his hearts healed just a tiny bit, as they had been since he met her.

OoOoOoOoOoOo

It was nearly three quiet days later when the Doctor found himself sitting alone in the library, Rose having gone to try and unearth one of the swimming pools. He'd wished her luck, but privately thought it a lost cause.

Just as it had for the past three days, his mind fell on his late night encounter with Rose. Something about the way she'd acted had unnerved him, something during the conversation about death.

"You almost died, doesn't that matter to you?"

"No."

He'd repeated those words in his head over and over, and it only made him more nervous. She had sounded like she meant it, she genuinely didn't care if she died, and it scared him. He hadn't had a talk with Rose about not wasting her regenerations, or risking her own health under the mind that she could just regenerate, but he had a strong suspicion that wasn't her problem.

And when he'd begun to bring it up with her, she'd gotten deeply uncomfortable and made an excuse to leave the room.

The Doctor had plenty of thoughts on the matter but none of them made him feel any better.

He was completely aware that her mental health wasn't great. She didn't talk about it, but he could sometimes feel her just getting anxious and, every once in awhile, having a panic attack. And when he really paid attention, he could feel this… emotional hole in her. Sometimes she'd have absolutely no energy, and she hadn't slept for more than a total of five hours since she'd changed, which wouldn't be bad if it hadn't been nearly a month. So, the Doctor had realized that Rose was depressed.

He also wondered on this lingering feeling he'd noticed from her constantly. It was odd, and sort of hard to describe, but often caused a significant amount of anxiety. The best way he could describe it was like she felt like the world wasn't real. It only took him a little research to get a name for it.

Chronic derealization.

He wasn't particularly surprised she had it, after his research. From what he could tell, it came after significant stress or trauma in your life and sort of changed your brain so that nothing felt real, almost like a way to protect itself. He knew it often also made people, friends or family or significant others seem fake and dream like as well, and figured she probably had that as well. He knew that this feeling of everything being fake caused extreme anxiety in her, and he didn't blame her. He wasn't sure how well he'd handle constantly wondering what was actually real, either.

And that wasn't even getting into the countless symptoms of PTSD that she had, though that certainly didn't surprise him.

And all of that was just what he could easily notice.

He'd never had a companion with mental health issues like this before, but he also knew she was more than a companion, and it shouldn't be ignored. He knew how serious it could be and he knew he wasn't perfect in that arena, either. He certainly had his fair share of PTSD, among other issues.

He was jolted out of his worrying thoughts by the sound of Rose walking into the library. He looked up to find her in a bikini with a cover up on, and figured she'd found the pool. Her hair was wet and hanging carelessly around her face.

"Where was it?" he asked, genuinely curious and a tad bitter. He hadn't been able to find it in decades.

"It was just a few halls down from the wardrobe," Rose said, shrugging. The Doctor narrowed his eyes.

"The TARDIS-,"

"I figured she did," Rose nodded. "What're you in here brooding about?"

"I am not brooding," he denied, offended. Rose just rolled her eyes and sat next to him, pulling her loose cover up tighter around her. "I'm just… thinking."

"Care to share with the class?"

"Rose," he started slowly. "You do know that you shouldn't… waste regenerations, right?"

She frowned at him, suddenly very lost. "What do you mean?"

"I mean… you shouldn't take unnecessary risks. It may seem like you've got plenty of life to spare, but it runs out quick and then that's the end."

"Yeah, I know."

"Are you sure?" he asked, frowning at her.

"Yeah, it's not like I want to regenerate. It's just nice knowing it's there, if I ever get into serious trouble."

The Doctor was quiet. He'd figured that wasn't her problem, but he didn't have a clue how to address the only other conclusion he'd come to.

His only idea was to be blunt.

"Do you want to die?"

Rose froze, and the Doctor wasn't even sure she was breathing. "What?"

He could feel that echo of a very trapped feeling from Rose and as much as he wished it weren't true, he felt like he'd figured it out.

He didn't answer her, and just waited instead. He could feel her getting increasingly more uncomfortable and panicked by the question before an anxious defeat settled in between the other feelings.

"Not really," she refused to make eye contact and he realized she was ashamed. She spoke quickly, like she just wanted it over with. "I just… I don't know. It's not like I'd ever go out of my way to be in dangerous situations, or get hurt, or anything. And it isn't like I'd…" she paused as he thought back to the time she had tried exactly what she was saying she wouldn't. "Not anymore. It's just sometimes, I think about it, and it doesn't sound so bad. It's just... thinking," she assured him, and it definitely didn't make him feel better.

"Rose-,"

"I'm fine," she insisted, much too quickly, her panicked tone betraying her.

"You're not. You have at least five disorders or other mental health issues alone, and that's not including this… suicidal ideology."

She winced at the term, but he didn't care. She had to admit to herself what it was.

"Have you ever gotten help, or been diagnosed?"

She shrugged lightly and he took that as a firm no. He wasn't particularly surprised - she had said she wasn't able to see a therapist after Jimmy.

"I spent some time studying psychology," he told her. "I was trapped on earth and had nothing else to do. Didn't read the stuff from that time though, cause it was rubbish. I did happen to have plenty of books in here," he waved around them. "I found it fascinating. Spent a long time after that, just studying the mind."

"Okay," she said slowly, looking at him cautiously.

"I could help you," he offered, and he saw the immediate denial forming, so he spoke again. "Like you're helping me."

That stopped her completely, and he could tell she was considering it.

"Rose, you've got a general anxiety disorder, panic disorder, chronic depersonalization, major depressive disorder, PTSD," the Doctor paused as he saw the defensive look on her face completely drop, leaving her just looking tired. "There might be more. But you'll never get better if you never try."

"That's just… so much."

"Which is why you need to work on it," he told her.

She just sighed softly, and he gave her a small smile.

"You will get better."

He knew she didn't believe him, but he was determined to help her. She would get better.

OoOoOoOoOoOo

Rose requested a stop home to see her mother, and the Doctor agreed. He knew they'd need to explain everything to Jackie eventually, and Rose had explained that she didn't want to do it in the middle of an emergency, which he knew was a fair concern.

Rose popped into the room, and he glanced at her new outfit. She'd taken to dressing generally however she wanted. Some days she wore loose, flowing dresses and some days, like that day, she wore tight, ripped jeans with a dark top that said "On Wednesdays, We Smash The Patriarchy," the words surrounded by a blue and pink floral pattern, and her leather jacket, combat boots finishing off the look. She generally looked rather intimidating, and he figured it was fair considering who they were going to visit.

The Doctor explained everything he was doing once more, trying to go about the long process of teaching her how to fly the TARDIS. He could always just give her the memories, and he was still considering it, but there was a learning curve and he wanted to help her.

After an exceedingly smooth landing, and minimal grumbling from the Doctor, the pair made their way out of the TARDIS.

OoOoOoOoOoOo

"What do you mean, you're not human anymore?" Jackie screamed, her eyes wide. Rose winced at the volume and sighed, readying herself for a long conversation.

"I mean, I'm like the Doctor now," she said, already tired. She wasn't entirely sure how she was supposed to explain all of it, considering so much of it had to do with things that, for Jackie, never happened or hadn't happened yet. She thought back to what the Doctor had told her about what he would modify his memory to.

The Doctor thought that the TARDIS had taken a special interest in her and, one day when Jimmy had gone too far and actually killed her, saved her by bringing her into her heart. She wasn't entirely sure what else he thought on the matter, so she needed to be very careful.

"What exactly is he, anyway?"

"A Time Lord," the Doctor answered. He'd tried to get out of helping her answer questions, but she'd pointed out that she didn't know as much as him, regardless of how much reading she'd done on their species, and he'd conceded.

"Yeah, thanks," Jackie scoffed. "Useless, he is."

"Stop it, mum," Rose sighed. "It's like human, but… more."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It just means biologically," she said quickly, calming the anger that had risen quickly to the surface. "We have two hearts, and special lungs, and our minds are different."

"How did this happen?" Jackie looked between the pair, noting how much more comfortable they were around each other compared to the last visit. "What did he do to you?"

"Nothing!" Rose threw her head back. "It… it wasn't his fault. I was in danger, and his machine, the TARDIS, she saved me, but it changed me. It made me like him."

"Is that why your eyes are like that?"

Rose nodded, grateful for the easy out. Jackie had gotten pretty upset when Rose wouldn't explain it the last time they'd been there, and she was glad for the woman's forgetful mind - forgetting that she'd said she'd only recently changed.

She shared a look with the Doctor. They'd agreed to give as little information as possible, and certainly avoid telling the woman about the long life span Rose had ahead of her.

"I'm not a different person, mum," she soothed, and she knew that was exactly what Jackie had been afraid of. "I'm still me, still your daughter. I'm just… a little more, now."

The conversation continued with little drama after that, and Rose wondered at how well it had gone.

So, of course, someone appeared in the living room, wrapping an arm around her before immediately somehow popping them out of the small flat, leaving her mother annoyed and worried, and the Doctor simply terrified.

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Rose fell out of her kidnapper's arms as the trip ended, and she doubled over, the familiar feeling of time travel without a capsule not the only thing that was making her feel sick.

She looked up and locked eyes with her best friend.

Jack didn't smile, or reach for her to hug her - not that she wanted one, after the stunt he'd just pulled - but rather looked extremely nervous and… apologetic. "Rosie, I am so sorry."

"Yeah, I'm not sure how we're supposed to explain this to anyone," she muttered, righting herself. She frowned as she found it was painful to some unknown part of her to look directly at Jack and settled for the wall behind him.

They were in Torchwood again, and this time in his office. "No, Rose," the man sighed, rubbing his face. "I came to get you as soon as I realized you were on earth."

"Why?"

"Because you're not safe," he answered, tense. She frowned up at him and waited for him to reply, which only took a moment. He looked completely ashamed, and she felt her gut twist, anxiety overcoming her.

"Jack, what happened?"

"It's Jimmy," he said quietly. "He escaped."

Rose felt her stomach flip at the words, and panic filled her. "What?"

"We had this girl working with us, Suzie," he began, throwing himself into the explanation. "And we had this… glove. It brought people back to life, but just for a few seconds. She was the only one that could make it work." Jack paused, and Rose set herself into a chair to listen, suddenly very dizzy from her shallow breathing. "We had an emergency, a group of about five Weevils murdering people in the city, so we had to leave almost right after you left. Suzie stayed behind. She said she wasn't feeling well." Rose could tell how frustrated her friend was and she tried to console him, but the words wouldn't leave her mouth, so she just listened.

"Turns out, she'd been killing people to get control of the glove," Jack sighed. "She went down to kill Jimmy, and opened the cell and he overpowered her. He escaped. We found her with a knife and the glove, locked in the cell. It wasn't too hard to put together, but we couldn't find Jimmy. Anywhere."

"He knows how to hide," was all Rose said, keeping her eyes down not only because it still hurt to look at him, but also because she knew how bad he felt and couldn't handle making it worse by him seeing how scared she was.

"I'm so sorry, Rosie-,"

"It's okay, Jack," she shook her head, pulling herself out of the seat. "I'm always gonna be afraid of him, even if he's dead."

"Rose-,"

"I'm not upset with you," she promised, forcing herself to make eye contact. Somehow that was even more painful and uncomfortable. "Really, Jack, it's fine. I appreciate the warning."

"We'll keep looking for him," her friend promised, and she could tell he was more comforting himself than her.

"Don't bother," she shrugged. "You won't find him."

"Rosie-,"

"You should probably take me home, or near home. The Doctor is probably out to kill you by now."

Jack nodded, resigned, but gently grabbed her face, and she looked at him again as he spoke. "I promise, Rosie. I won't give up. You're the last family I've got. I won't let him hurt you again."

She gave him a weak smile and kissed his cheek lightly. "I love you, Jack. Now please, take me home."

And so, her best friend did as she said, leaving her a five minute walk from her mum's flat, but staying close enough to see her the entire time.

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When Rose walked back in the flat, the Doctor only felt a little better, having been assured of her physical safety.

He'd made an excuse to Jackie, explaining that his TARDIS had malfunctioned or something of the sort - he honestly hadn't really cared what he said and only wanted her to shut up.

But now that she was back, he could see how drained she was. It was like someone had taken anything positive out of her and replaced it with… fear, and dread.

He'd sent Jackie off to run an errand. What it was, he wasn't sure, but it left him alone when the blonde girl walked back in.

He jumped to his feet and ran to the door, wrapping her in his arms. She accepted the hug quickly, holding him nearly as tight as he held her.

They stood like that for a couple long minutes before she pulled back and moved into the living room to sit on the couch. He followed her and sat to her left, waiting for the explanation.

"That was my friend," she began. "From the day of the Slitheen."

The day she was attacked.

"He didn't know how else to get my attention safely," she told him, and he remembered her comment about how he couldn't meet her friend yet.

"What was so important that he had to kidnap you?" the Doctor asked, his tone sharper than he meant it to be.

"One of his employees," she began, her voice already shaking. "They were… moving Jimmy, and he got out."

The Doctor felt a strange rage fill him, as well as a distinct nausea that he associated with fear, with complete terror.

"Did they find him?" he asked, his voice very carefully calm. She didn't answer, and he knew that meant no, they did not. The Doctor spent a moment, trying to control his rampant emotions before he spoke again. "We need to leave."

"Doctor, he would never come here," she paused, and he knew what she was thinking. Again.

"You know that for a fact?"

Rose's shrug was not enough to convince the Doctor.

"Come on," he said, his voice dark and demanding. "We're leaving."

"Doctor, what about my mum?" Rose asked, shaking her head.

"Your mum's feelings aren't as important as your safety, Rose," the Doctor snapped. "I know you don't care about staying safe, but I do."

Rose felt her breath leave her at his words. He seemed to understand what he'd said at the same time and tried to backtrack, but she'd already stood.

"Rose-,"

"No, you're right," she said, anger fueling this new energy. "I obviously don't care about my life. As a matter of fact, I might as well leave myself here so Jimmy can just finish it, eh?"

"Rose-," the Doctor tried, wincing at her words. But he knew she was right to be angry. He had no right to use her mental health in an argument like that, especially when it actually didn't have anything to do with the situation.

"Let's go back to the TARDIS," she muttered, not looking at him as she opened the door and stormed out, leaving him running after her and closing the door as an afterthought.

OoOoOoOoOoOo

Rose knew the Doctor felt bad, and she thought he might even have understood what he'd done, but she couldn't help but be angry. Not only had he yelled at her after she'd received some of the worst news of her life, but he'd also thrown her mental health - something she'd never talked about before, except for with him - in her face, insinuating that she wanted to stay and let Jimmy murder her.

She stormed into the TARDIS with tears in her eyes and didn't watch to see if the Doctor was following her. It wasn't until she got to the swimming pool filled library - something she'd asked the TARDIS for - that she slowed down, eventually sitting on a chair by a table and a couch - a sure sign she was upset with him, because she always sat on a couch, curled into his side.

The Doctor walked slowly in behind her and finally placed himself on the arm of the couch, effectively sitting as close to her as he could. He didn't say anything, and she appreciated it. She needed a moment to collect her thoughts.

"I'm scared of him, Doctor."

She could tell her words hit his hearts as he winced and nodded, but she wasn't done. "I'm scared of being near him. I can remember his face, his breath on my skin, and I can clearly hear the sound of his voice in my mind. I can still feel how it felt when he would try and kill me, the pressure of his hands on my throat, how hot they are when they squeeze." She knew she was getting through to the Doctor by the look on his face and part of her felt bad - no one should have to hear that stuff - but the rest knew he needed to understand her fear. "It's like he's always there. I close my eyes, Doctor, and I just… I see him, hovering over me in a bed with another needle, and I don't know what he'll do. I can hear him, and see his eyes. He's still there, and he'll never leave me."

She took in a shaky breath, blinking away the flashback that was coming into focus, like putting on a pair of horror filled glasses. "I am more afraid of him than anything in this world, or the next. I am more afraid of him touching me again than anything else you could put me through. I'm not afraid of you because I don't need to be, but also because I've already met the most terrifying man in the universe, and it isn't you. So no, I don't want to let him get to me. Because it would never be as simple as just killing me. He'd never just kill me, there's always more. He's a monster, Doctor. I don't think he could even be human and if he is, then I'm glad I'm not."

The Doctor was silent for a long moment as he took in her words, feeling the pain and terror and the flashback edging at the corner of her mind, begging to tear her down farther.

"I didn't mean-,"

"I know," she nodded. "But it was said, and I need you to really understand." She paused, making eye contact with him. "All the times I've wanted to die, every time I thought about it, it was always to escape him. It always will be, because he'll always be there haunting me."

The Doctor's hearts broke for the girl in front of him. She was so… strong.

"No, I'm not," she laughed, and he hated the sound. "I gave up, and a lot. Anyone that's strong would've kept going."

The Doctor's eyes widened as he realized she was serious. "No, Rose, you've got it wrong. No one in your position could've kept going. He beat you down and degraded you and literally drugged you. He did despicable and unspeakable things to you for over three years. Anyone would give in. But you're strong because you kept going every day. And now you've got this new, long life and instead of dread, you're excited to live it. You're strong Rose."

She didn't answer him, and he could only hope that she kept his words in mind. He knew it should've been obvious that she thought poorly of herself, but it hadn't occurred to him because he thought she was so wonderful.

"Oh, Rose," he whispered, reaching to hold her face, having moved closer during his small speech. "You're absolutely amazing."

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