I'll duck under the covers and hide from the wrath of the readers who've been waiting waaay toooo long for this update. And a thanks to my beta ten_dr_rose as always!

Oh my, the reviews from chapter 20 were absolutely brilliant! I wasn't expecting so many and they made my day(s) over and over. THANK YOU and I hope I was able to respond to them all. If I missed you, by all means poke me. I think I got them all...

And my reason for such a delay? Kittens. I'm fostering a litter of kittens from a shelter and I've been rearing them from about 3 weeks of age. Turns out we're keeping all three of them. Their names are Tyme, Vortex, and The Master. Thought you'd all appreciate the names ;)

Chapter 21

They landed in a heap on a mattress, full of giggles and beaming smiles until their lungs demanded oxygen. When Rose was able to breathe again, she rolled off the dark duvet and hunted for the light switch by the large metal door to add more brightness to the otherwise plain, dim room. She'd taken them to her bedroom within Torchwood Seven, the most private of places for her over the last fifty years. Not even Harkness had had the privilege of setting foot in there.

Flipping the switch, Rose leaned against the steel door and observed the Doctor as he gracefully squirmed to the foot of her bed and glanced around the room. She had nothing fancy here other than a few oddball alien trinkets scattered along her lone wooden dresser that sat against the opposite wall to the bed. A tiny white fridge sat beside it on the left with a stack of old papers piled up on top. Her wardrobe was tucked away in the right corner, the stained mahogany wood matching her 5-drawer dresser along with the frame of her floor-length mirror beside her en suite door. There were no posters or pictures on the white washed walls.

Rose tensed when the Doctor's gaze settled on the last piece of furniture in the room. The desk. It was a rickety old thing that'd seen better days, the wood chipped and faded to a pale brown. It sat between the headboard of her bed and corner wall with a fragile looking chair tucked underneath. Its burden, however, was of the greatest value and she sucked in a breath as the Time Lord froze at the sight of it.

"Where did you..." came the unfinished question, hardly a whisper from the Doctor's lips as he leapt to his feet to examine her treasure.

He stopped mere inches away from the sunlamp, his eyes wide as he stared upon the silver-leafed sapling nestled on the table. For several minutes, all he could do was stand there, ogling the tree. He reached out to touch a single leaf, his hand opening and closing several times before he thought better of it and withdrew. Finally, his face turned to her, mixed emotions swimming in his soulful eyes. He couldn't speak.

Rose glued her eyes to the plant and shoved off from the door, making her way around the bed to stand beside him. She ran a finger up the smooth bark of the tree, sighing in silent memory of when she'd started this tiny sapling.

"Before the war," she began quietly as she withdrew her hand but not her eyes. "I found a seed pod from one of the trees one evening on my way back to the TARDIS. It was during your eighth regeneration. Susan identified it as a Silver Pod and helped me seal the seeds away for safe keeping. Something to take with me when...when the time came for me to leave."

Rose sank to the side of her bed and glanced up at the Doctor. He was watching her as she spoke, his expression unreadable so she continued. "One of the seeds, though, resisted and it sprouted a week later. Susan planted it and taught me how to care for the seedling. That was the last day I saw her before...well...you know..." she finished lamely.

The Doctor sank down on the bed beside her and stared back at the tree in silence. Rose felt uncomfortable, waiting for him to say something, anything. She'd always worried that maybe her care over the rare sapling wasn't adequate. Was it healthy? Had she done something wrong with it?

"Did I do something wrong?" she finally asked, echoing her thoughts of concern.

The Doctor blinked as if coming back from another world and looked at her in confusion "What? Did what wrong?" Then his mind sped back to reality and he shook his head, jumping to his feet to touch the delicate tree. "Oh. This? No! No, no, of course not! This..." he outlined the whole plant with both hands on either side of it to emphasise his meaning, "well, she's absolutely beautiful! I mean, look at her. She's got to be, what, fifty years old now? And look at how big she is! With artificial lighting and a foreign atmosphere and substitute nutrition...this should be impossible.

"Rose," his shimmering eyes locked on hers. "You're brilliant." His voice dropped in awe on his last sentence."Absolutely brilliant."

The tension Rose felt moments ago faded at his praise and she couldn't help but rise up to brush her lips on his cheek. It left the Doctor flustered for a second until he remembered he didn't have to hold back anymore. He moved to chase after her mouth but Rose ducked his assault, twisting away from him until she was in front of her dresser. If she gave into temptations now, they'd never get out of Torchwood and there was still the matter of retrieving the TARDIS from the ruined warehouse - not that they could dig her out of the rubble right then. The place was crawling with people after the building's collapse and would likely stay that way until the following night.

So, in reality, they did have time for a quiet night in. They could spend that time learning about each other, relearning bodies and discovering the unexplored terrain of a blossoming relationship. But...Rose had other intentions. There were things that needed to be said. Answers needed to be given. And their bond, it was still so new and untested, a strange sensation that left Rose with her defensive barriers up as she struggled to adjust to strength of it. She could feel the ever comforting presence of the Doctor's mind within her own and while it soothed that burning ache within her heart, it was unsettling. Her telepathy control was rusty, disused, and vastly uneducated. She was never born Gallifreyan and a large part of her was very much human.

Rose ignored the Doctor's unhappy huff and knelt down at the bottom drawer of her dresser, pulling it open by the worn brass handle. It was full of unused sheets and pillow cases and she shuffled them around until a thin book surfaced from the sea of colourful fabric.

The Doctor sidled up from behind and leaned over her hunched frame as she gingerly caressed the beaten volume. He bent backwards when she scooped it up with both hands and pushed back to her feet, kicking the drawer shut. Turning to the bed, Rose stepped around him and set it on the duvet.

"You wanted to know about Gallifrey and how I got there, yeah?" She tipped her head toward the book and the Doctor realized that it wasn't really a book at all, but a small journal. "S'all in here," she tapped on the thin, bound leather case, "Starts from the second week after I arrived there."

Rose sighed and hugged herself, thinking back to when she'd been given the bigger-on-the-inside notebook. It'd been a gift from Susan, something to help her keep track of the days gone by in her spare time. Her first diary had been lost centuries ago not long after her husband's death. She vaguely recalled clutching the old blue book before the accident. After that, nothing.

Cool arms slid around from behind her in a comforting embrace. They stood together like that for countless minutes, eyes closed with his chin resting on her shoulder. Neither was willing to break the tranquillity between them with words and they let the silence engulf them.

Finally, Rose gently broke from the Doctor's hold and walked to the large wardrobe to assess her packing needs. It was her way of giving the Time Lord time to adjust to what she'd just given him. Her personal history, private feelings, and emotional struggles were now laying mere inches from his fingertips. What he did with that level of intimate trust was entirely in his hands.

Despite Rose's earlier resolve, a good portion of the next several hours had nothing to do with talking or reading or even packing. She'd been overwhelmed with the Doctor's mental caress, latching onto it like a starved child when he'd turned to her in growing distress at what she'd given him. On the outside he'd seemed cool and collected but just a brush of his mind to hers revealed just how much her gift affected him.

It'd led to hushed whispers and soft touches, reassuring strokes and delicious sighs until clothing was shed in a haphazard line to the bed. Where they'd been rough and desperate before, it was so much more precious and meaningful in the hours that followed. Their bond blazed brightly between them, Rose nervous but willing to come to terms with the blinding sensation. The Doctor was a patient teacher, weaving his crimson web around her like a shielding cocoon as she fumbled with the strands of her own shimmering design.

Now Rose lay curled in her bed, buried deep under the duvet and drifting between consciousness and sleep. She was aware that the Doctor wasn't asleep and most likely wouldn't be for at least a few more days. He stayed with her though, sitting up beside her with his back resting against the headboard as he absentmindedly ran a hand through her hair. Even with her eyes closed, Rose knew that his thick, black-framed specs would be perched precariously on the tip of his nose as he considered her journal held in his free hand. Her last thought before sleep dragged her under was how dead sexy the Time Lord looked wearing glasses and how he ought to keep them on more often.

The Doctor peered sideways at the sleeping bundle at his side, a smirk tugging the corner of his mouth. He'd caught that mental remark of hers and filed the information away for safe keeping. Not that he really needed glasses to read. It was just...habit? No, not really was more like...a suit of armour; another external layer to hide behind like the rest of his clothing whenever he felt nervous or unsure of himself or the situation he was faced with.

It was a ridiculous act, of course. Childish, even. Logic laughed at his feeble attempts of external barriers but it was a coping mechanism so deeply ingrained within him that he feared it to be a life-long quirk. Rose didn't seem to mind, thankfully, and she was one of the few who could break through those carefully erected walls.

Pulling away from such distracting thoughts, the Doctor eyed the notebook held in his hand. He hesitated to open it, afraid of what he'd uncover in something so personal. In a way, he felt as if he were invading Rose's privacy, even though he'd been given full permission. He also feared the thought of picking at old wounds. Reading about Gallifrey from the eyes of another would surely dig up the memories better left buried.

As if sensing his discomfort, Rose sighed in her sleep and shifted closer to him, her arm slithering across his lap. It was all the encouragement he needed to finally relent and crack open the worn volume.

Being Time Lord, the Doctor could have read her entire journal in seconds simply by flipping through the pages like a picture-book. That idea didn't sit right with him, though. He wanted to take his time and process every letter. The writer deserved his respect and utmost attention, so it was only fitting that he read at a leisurely pace and absorb every detail.

First, he studied her penmanship from day to day, observing and pinpointing her mood at the time of writing depending on the set of her pen. He noted the tiniest ofchanges, like how heavy the ink was in that moment by how hard she pressed into the paper or how the curving of some letters changed based on her emotions. He caught glimpses of concern, excitement, and pain after scanning through a few pages.

Flipping back to the first page, the Doctor settled in to read the worn script. Time passed him by.

Year One, Week two.

I've stumbled into a fairytale of sorts. This world should be impossible...that's what he said, once...so long ago. Time-locked after the War...and yet, here I am. On Gallifrey.

This first entry is more of a recap of events over the last two weeks up until today. My injuries are completely healed now, so that's a plus. I'll also make note that I'm several thousand...million? (probably much more, even) years out of my own Timeline so the dates are lost to me here. So, I'm making a new calendar for myself until further notice.

I should probably start back from the beginning. The memory gets a little fuzzy but I recall, eh, crashing, into this world from what feels like another Universe. Cracked a few ribs, broke my right shoulder and arm and the right ankle as well. I was covered in bruises, scraped up pretty badly and I remember having the worst migraine I've ever experienced. Concussion really sucks.

That's the extent of my first two weeks on Gallifrey. Pain, hushed voices, and a lot of fitful sleeping. The first real memory I have after that nightmare is waking alone in a dark cavern-like room. Seemed as if someone had found me and stowed me away in a cave as they tended to my injuries. I waited for my rescuer to return but after several hours of silence, hunger finally drove me from the cot.

The term 'don't wander off' comes to mind now, thinking back to a few days ago. One of my bad habits that I've never learned from, eh Doctor? I wish you were here with me right now. I need a hand to hold...and your guidance because I feel so helplessly lost on this strange , distractions. Where was I? Ah, off.

Turns out I was hidden away in a dockyard. That cave turned out to be the basement of a station where TARDISes were either repaired or retired for decommissioning. The place was enormous and I'll admit to getting lost. Probably wandered for a few hours. Instinct told me to stay low and out of sight as I explored my new environment.

When I couldn't find my way back, I began to panic inside. I had no idea who'd helped me and the dockyard was a grave, creepy place to be in. It felt as if there where ghosts calling out to me, a whisper of a song dancing just beyond my reach. I couldn't hear them, per se, but the tune was sad, almost pleading. Hard to explain it, really. Best I can say is that I sensed their presence, whomever they were.

Then, I found her. The TARDIS, in all her glory, sitting proudly in a dusty corner of a dark corridor. She was alone, forgotten, even. I didn't recognize her at first, but something about that black pyramid stood out and I had to touch it, caress it like the forbidden jewel that it was. When I placed my hand on the smooth black surface, a narrow door appearedwith a keyhole that looked identical to the one I'd grown so accustomed to on the blue police box.

Lucky for me, I still had the TARDIS key on its chain around my neck. For whatever reason, my caretaker had stripped me of my clothing, dressed me in rich red robes, but left the key in its rightful place. And wouldn't you know? The key fit.

That was the end of the first entry written in Rose's Journal. The Doctor stared at the last sentence, wondering why it cut off so suddenly. Flipping to the next page, he scanned the paper for more detail but it was just a new entry that left no clues about her abrupt ending. Why stop there?

Sensing his confusion in the back of her mind, Rose stirred from her light sleep and cracked an eye open. It took her muddled brain a minute to catch up to the present, both eyes now open and glued to the journal held firmly in the Doctor's hand.

Stretching, Rose wriggled into a sitting position beside the love of her life, leaning sleepily against his arm as she glanced over the first page of her diary. She reached a hand out to brush the tips of her fingers down the penned letters, reflecting on the memories of centuries past.

"What's the matter?" Rose asked with a yawn as she looked up at the Doctor, meeting his soft gaze. It didn't go unnoticed how his warm eyes softened as she settled more comfortably into his side, her arms snaking around his bare waist in a loose hug.

When he hesitated to answer, Rose pulled back to study his face more clearly. "Well?"

"Um, it's..." the Doctor flailed, not really sure where to start. He still felt unbelievably uncomfortable with the idea of reading her diary. And, perhaps he was a bit distracted by the fact that she was naked. In him. Dear Lord. Distractions.

Rose gave him an impatient quirk of the brow and the Doctor coughed to clear his head with an aggrieved sigh. She had no idea what she was doing to his body right now, looking at him with her hair tangled from sex and her breasts bared to him so innocently.

"Y-you left it hanging in the first entry," he spluttered as she cleared her throat and he tapped the offending page to distract himself from other thoughts. "It jumps right from the TARDIS to, well..." he swallowed, flipping to the next page, "...Susan."

With gentle hands, Rose took her journal from the Time Lord and scanned over the entry before flipping to the second page. Her brow furrowed as she turned back to page one. "Hold on, that's not right..." she murmured in confusion.

Crawling off the bed, she set her journal down long enough to search for her tan dressing gown in the en suit. Covered from the bite of cool air and ravenous eyes, Rose flipped on the overhead light and resumed flicking through the pages, reading the dates written on the top right-hand corner of each one. "There's a page missing. A few of them, actually. How in the world..." Rose ran through the entire book several more times.

"Rose?"

At his questioning voice, Rose glanced up and snapped the volume shut with one hand, gripping it rather tightly. She was peeved that her diary had been tampered with. But how?And by whom?...and when?

"Pages are missing," she repeated, "including the second half of my first entry. Someone went to great lengths to cut the pages out perfectly. I didn't even notice the tears at first glance. Did you?"

The Doctor took the offered book and made a show of pushing his "sexy" spectacles up the bridge of his nose before doing his own inspection for torn pages. She was right. Unless you were actually looking for ripped paper, anyone would have skipped right by them. The seams were cut so close to the edge with such perfection. A cut made with intent.

"What else is missing, content wise?" The Doctor asked as he mentally noted the missing pages. Rose didn't write an entry for every day. Maybe weekly, sometimes bi-weekly or longer. But his Time Lord brain skimmed over every page, counting in that lightning-fast speed to piece the evidence together. In chronological order, pages 2, 23, 96, and 530 were gone, though they weren't numbered or marked otherwise.

Rose shook her head as she stared at the duvet in concentration. "Dunno, really. To be honest, I'd have to re-read a good bit of it myself to jog my memory. When you've lived as long as I have... well, you know. Things fade. They're never truly forgotten, just get a bit fuzzy. S' why I kept a journal. I've always done, travelling with you. Our separation was no different."

The Doctor gave a stiff nod as he set the book down and climbed from the bed. Rose busied herself as he dressed, keeping her eyes trained on the ground as the scattering of her clothes from earlier suddenly became an interest. It was always good to keep ones room clean, right? It was way more important than, say, a hair-tousled Time Lord parading around the small space in his pants.

When he made a show of wriggling into his trousers, Rose simply had to stop and stare at his bum a moment.

"See something you like?" The Doctor teased, pausing in the act of buttoning his trousers with a knowing smirk.

Rose rewarded him by sticking her tongue out at him childishly and giggling. "Shut up, you."

That remark ended in a squeal, all previous worries about missing pages lost as the Time Lord chased her around the room, catching her around the waist to toss her onto the bed. The ensuing tickle war that followed would never be forgotten.

"There's another way..." the Doctor hedged nervously, hours later. Again they were snuggled in bed, buried under the sheets with limbs tangled up and an obvious lack of clothing.

"Hmm?" Rose murmured against his chest, a finger caressing his bare chest as she tried to sort through his projected emotions. She was becoming so much more aware of him, sensing his feelings through their bond as if it were a natural, everyday occurrence. He did his best to conceal them, she knew, but even his strongest of barriers were weakening in her capable hands.

The Doctor had become quiet and brooding for a while now. Rose knew something was on his mind but she didn't push him to talk about it, instead opting to give him time to mull it over until he was ready to speak. As he struggled within himself, she realized that he was preparing to come clean about something. How else could she describe the wave of guilt flowing from him to settle in the pit of her stomach?

Still, she waited, patient and silent in his arms as he opened his mouth again. "Your journal," he breathed into her hair, "there's another way to dip into those memories."

Puzzled, Rose lifted herself from his chest and propped her head up on an elbow to face him. Her look asked him to continue so he took a deep breath and plunged ahead.

"I have this...machine. Back on the TARDIS. It's called a Dimensional Dream Converter for all intents and purposes. It...records...eh, stuff." His voice was small and an octave higher than normal. What was he not telling her that had him so edgy all of a sudden?

"Stuff...like what, dreams?" Rose tossed out, baiting him on as gently as possible.

"Sort of, , nightmares...memories."

Oh, yes. Right there. His eyes had shifted to the sheets on the word 'memories.' She now had a clue to work with. "When you say 'memories,'" she prodded, eyeing him suspiciously. Rose had no idea what he was guilty of, but her guard was well up and alert. Not that she had anything to hide from him anymore. But whatever he'd done, her instincts told her a major rule had been broken at some point, possibly even her trust.

The Doctor sucked in a long breath, letting it out slowly as his eyes trailed back to hers in silent apology. "Back when your mind was burning...when I had to get inside your head to save you, I...may have...recordedyourmemories."

The last three words came out so fast and low that Rose almost missed them. When it processed, though, she sat up stiffly, unconsciously drawing the sheets up to cover herself. She regarded him with a glare that he failed to see because he couldn't find the courage to look her in the eyes.

The minutes ticked by, Rose trying to form words to the strangled feelings that skittered through her mind. She wasn't surprised by his actions. On the contrary, it was very Doctor-ish for him to have acted on impulse without asking her opinion on the matter. However, she'd spent far too many years trusting him, and he'd trampled over it time and time again by making decisions for her. Satellite Five, the battle at Canary Wharf, Bad Wolf Bay after she'd fought so hard to find him again - the list could go on and on - they were all choices he'd made for her. And invading her private memories? Well, it was a necessary sacrifice she'd accepted to save herself all those weeks ago. But to record them without her permission, let alone her knowledge? He'd crossed the line.

"Doctor," she spoke at last, her voice level, yet sharp. Rose didn't continue until his eyes travelled back to hers and she pinned them there with a dangerous glare that assured his undivided attention.

"Let me be very, very clear with this: I'm perfectly capable of running my own life and making my own choices. My memories belong to me. You've no right and no business mucking about in it without my permission. I let you in because I had to, because I trusted you to treat my memories with respect and care. Yet you deliberately took it upon yourself to take without asking, without any consideration as to how I'd feel about it."

The Doctor fought the urge to break from her piercing stare, wanting to shrink into the mattress to hide himself from her quiet fury. He knew this day had been coming...but to finally bear witness to her wrath was...shameful. He felt shame and guilt for breaking her trust and a sickening thought crossed his mind; would she leave him?

"Rose..." He struggled to sit up and ran a nervous hand through his hair, the bedsheets pooling around his waist as his mind raced for words of sincere apology. He had a funny feeling that no amount of grovelling would be enough save him and he didn't even know where to start.

Suddenly, he remembered the elusive wolf hidden away in her subconscious mind and pounced on it in desperation.

"Rose, please listen, I can explain... No, wait, please just hear me out," he stalled her building protest with a hand on her shoulder and just like that, the words came to him like a gift. He adjusted himself so that he sat cross-legged facing her and after a tense moment of staring, Rose relaxed slightly under his touch.

"You're right. Yes, I'm stupid and inconsiderate and controlling. I'm the mastermind of manipulation and deception when I feel cornered or when I feel that someone I care about...someone I love," he practically choked on the word, "...is in danger. You're no exception and it's a habit I've never outgrown. I'm the last of my kind...and I've been alone for far too many years. Having a relationship with a companion like this...with an equal...it's not something I'm used to."

Rose searched his eyes as he spoke, her hands folded neatly in her lap as her fingers toyed with the duvet at her waist. She was vaguely aware that her bottom lip was caught between her teeth.

"I'm not going to lie and say this will be easy for me, Rose," the Doctor continued with shake of his head and his gaze moved to her mouth as she chewed on her lip. With a small frown, he reached out and cupped her cheek, running his thumb along the edge of her mouth until she surrendered his target for inspection. Satisfied that she hadn't done any serious damage, he met her wide, molten eyes again.

"I'm going to muck things up and do things before asking, or thinking, or both. What I did in the medical bay when you were helpless, it wasn't right and I take full responsibility for my actions. I've felt guilty for doing it and it's been hell trying to find a way to tell you because I knew you'd be upset. But you've a right to know and I'm sorry, so sorry for betraying your trust...again."

He paused, waiting for Rose to respond to his open confession. The words were true and from the heart, even if they'd literally come from out of nowhere. He wasn't finished, though. Far from it. There was still the matter of the wolf prowling around in her mind, something he desperately needed to show her.

Rose contemplated his apology, weighing the sincerity shining in his eyes until she had to break free and stare at the duvet. For a while, she didn't say anything at all. Then, randomly, she laughed. It threw him off, her small fit of giggles and then she turned to him, her arms locking around his neck to drag him to her lips. After a heated kiss, she let him go.

"We're gonna be all awkward and uncoordinated, yeah?" she sighed, a grin on her face.

Shaking the haze from his addled brain, the Doctor stared at her cautiously. Wasn't she still mad at him? Did he miss something? "Wha-? But I.. Weren't you just-?"

Rose cocked her head at him, observing his confusion with mild amusement. "'M not mad, Doctor. I was upset, yeah. I had to set a boundary and make sure you understood it as such. And you apologised. You're right, it's gonna take time and we're gonna make all kinds of crazy arse mistakes. 'S what couples do. We'll screw up, row a bit, learn from it, and move on. I'll still go on lovin' you just the same."

This time it was the Doctor who sought her lips and she let him snog her into mindless bliss. She only broke free when her lungs demanded oxygen. When they both managed to pace their breathing to something close to normal, Rose remembered their original conversation.

"So, about this Dream Converter thing..."

The Doctor's grin faltered and became serious at her reminder. "Ah, yes. Actually, there's something more important I need you to see regarding that." He closed his eyes and mentally sought the TARDIS, checking to see if she was ready for passengers. She was.

Opening his eyes, he glanced at Rose and tipped her head toward her dresser. "Get dressed, we're going back to the TARDIS."

End Author's Note: Hope you enjoyed and thanks for sticking with this. Love hearing from my readers and I'll be sure to respond to each one! Chapter 22 on the way.

*that niggling feeling in the back of your head that says you're forgetting to say something important*