He wasn't even sure she knew she was doing it.
On reflection, he was pretty certain she didn't.
He watched her unobvserved, riveted, as she bustled around the greenhouse.
She'd taken quite a liking to the place, and he had to admit, she'd made improvements.
A number of the wild, scraggly plants were beginning to flower under her gentle hand. He found it endearing somehow that she talked to the plants as if they were pets.
Was willing to bet she'd be surprised to know how many of them were actually capable of listening to her, and obviously were.
That song.
The haunting wordless melody that she'd been alternately humming and whistling relentlessly for days. He'd mentioned to her once, about the TARDIS getting inside her head. Hadn't expected it to be putting her inside of his.
He was certain she could not have heard it from him.
Could not have heard it at all.
Everyone who'd ever known the Gallifreyan Ballad for the Fallen had ceased to exist. The song itself had been wiped from existence.
Yet somehow, impossibly, in Rose, it echoed on.
The harder he tried to avoid it, the more plainly it presented itself.
This girl, though hardly more than a child by her own people's standards, was affecting him to a degree he hadn't imagined possible. It thrilled and terrified him at the same time.
He watched, fascinated as she brushed the dirt from her hands and stood up, oblivious to his presence. Still humming, she brushed the hair from her face, and reached for a spade, preparing to repot something or other.
He smiled wryly to himself, and swallowed hard to get his hearts to release their grip on his throat.
Then turned away.
Humming.
