1.3 The Unquiet Dead

Rose lay, once again, flopped on top of the bed (her bed? She supposed it was, now) in a dim room, staring at the ceiling, but blessedly in actual pajamas this time around. She'd found the soft flannel bottoms and cotton vest top when she'd gone to return the frankly spectacular red and black gown she'd borrowed for their first adventure into Earth's past. When she'd seen them, she'd decided that the Doctor's earlier invitation to use the wardrobe room was open ended—she wasn't entirely sure he'd meant it that way, but there were an awful lot of clothes in there, so she doubted he'd notice one missing pair of jimjams. And anyway, given that all he'd changed to venture out into 1860 (or 1869, as it turned out) was his jumper, it seemed unlikely that he made extensive use of the room, himself.

For now, therefore, Rose was giving herself carte blanche to borrow whatever she needed. She wondered idly what she would have done if they hadn't visited an era where the Doctor thought to tell her to change her clothes. He hadn't seemed to notice that she was wearing the same hoodie and jeans this morning (morning being a relative term, of course) as she had done yesterday, so for all she knew, he would have let her continue on wearing the same manky outfit indefinitely. She was relatively sure he wouldn't have noticed.

Although, she pondered, smiling slightly, he had certainly noticed the red and black dress. He hadn't seemed particularly aware of her casual flirting at the console when they'd landed (better with two indeed) but oh, the dress had gotten his attention. Not that she was sure she wanted his attention, necessarily, at least not like that. Maybe. Did she? It felt so natural to hold his hand, to lean against him as they walked. He was so excitable, so delighted to show her the universe. He made her feel… something. Special, maybe? She wasn't quite sure. She just felt a bit warmer when she was with him, and when he smiled at her. Possibly she was developing a bit of a crush. It was only natural, given the circumstances.

Mind, she had once again ended up disturbingly close to death. Twice. She didn't much fancy the idea of being taken out by gaseous ghost-zombie-aliens some hundred-odd years before she was born. And frankly, although the first instance wasn't really his fault (she'd volunteered to chase after Sneed and Gwyneth), the second could have been entirely avoided if he'd listened to her about letting the Gelth inhabit the dead in the first place. But no, he'd had to yell at her about "new moralities" and threaten to send her home, and then Gwyneth and Sneed were both dead and they'd almost been murdered and turned into zombies in a basement morgue. The mention of the Time War had turned his expression dark, and he'd been downright condescending for awhile there.

Still, he'd apologized, and they'd gotten out. And she'd gotten to meet Charles Dickens, which wasn't half bad. Also, near-death experiences seemed to turn the Doctor a bit romantic. The way he'd looked at her as he said "I'm so glad I met you," there'd definitely been something in those striking blue eyes of his, and the smile he'd given her had been soft, not fierce. Interesting, that. She'd have to make a mental note. Deadly danger = affectionate Doctor.

As if on cue, a soft knock sounded on her door, much as it had the night before.

"Come in!" Rose called. The door opened a crack and the Doctor stuck his head in.

"Ah good, you're still awake!" he greeted her with a grin.

"Yeah," Rose responded, hauling herself up to sit cross-legged on the bed, facing the door. "Not really tired. Not entirely sure how long I've even been awake, to be honest. Just had to get out of that corset!" She grinned, tongue between her teeth, and her eyes sparkled as the Doctor's gaze lingered briefly at that tiny bit of tongue before sweeping down over her pajama-clad figure and back up to her face. He didn't say anything for a moment, and Rose pushed her hair behind her ear, starting to feel self-conscious. "Did you want something?"

"Right! Yes!" The Doctor's grin returned to full force as his eyes met hers. "I was going to pop by the library to find my copy of Dickens' complete works, and I realized I haven't given you much of a TARDIS tour. Do you fancy a bit of a look around? I can point out a few of the rooms you might find interesting, and then maybe we can have a cuppa and you could join me in the library to read for a bit. If you like."

"Sounds lovely," Rose agreed readily, unfolding herself and swinging her legs to the floor. "Only let me grab my hoodie; I don't have a dressing gown or anything and might be a bit cold out there in just this." She gestured vaguely at her torso and watched the Doctor's eyes follow her hand down towards her chest before they snapped back to her face and… was he blushing? Ooh, that was as interesting development. Not just the dress that he noticed, then.

"Oh, ah, go ahead and peek in the wardrobe in the corner, the TARDIS is pretty good at making sure whatever you need is nearby," the Doctor told her.

"Okaaaay…" Rose answered, walking over to the tall mirrored armoire situated next to the door to her room's en suite. Sure enough, a fluffy bathrobe hung on a hanger, next to a selection of tops, jumpers, and pairs of jeans that looked to be about her size. Below the hanging rack were several pairs of boots and trainers, as well as a pair of fuzzy pink slippers. Shaking her head dazedly, Rose grabbed the slippers and robe and put them on. "Alright then! Where to?"

The Doctor held out his hand for Rose, and she slid hers into it, following him into the hall. They meandered down the corridors, hand in hand, and the Doctor pointed out doors along the way, explaining what was behind them. Some of the rooms she would have expected, if she'd given it much thought (galley, workshop), some seemed luxurious but not necessarily unfathomable (media room, observatory), and some she didn't quite believe could possibly be what he said until he opened the doors for her to peek in.

"You're kidding me!" she exclaimed, her voice echoing off the ceilings of the cavernous room holding the Olympic sized swimming pool. The bowling alley had her jaw dropping and her eyes blown wide. The vast conservatory full of unfamiliar flora, however, was what finally pushed her over the edge. "Just how big is it in here?!" she exclaimed in chagrin, staring up at the Doctor. He grinned cheekily down at her.

"As big as she wants to be! The TARDIS is transdimensional. She can go on forever, if she likes, making up rooms as she goes."

"She?"

"Of course! The TARDIS is sentient, didn't I say?"

Rose shook her head, looking dumbstruck. "So when you said that she makes sure what you have is close at hand…"

"She figures out what you need and tries to provide it, yeah."

"Huh."

"You alright?" The Doctor looked a little nervous.

"Yeah, 'course. It's just… wow. She's amazing, isn't she?"

The Doctor's smile was incandescent. "She's fantastic." Rose returned his smile and squeezed his hand. "So, library?" he suggested, breaking eye contact.

"Absolutely," Rose answered.

The library felt straight out of Hogwarts to Rose. Tall, dark wooden shelves were filled with books with colorful spines, with spiral stairs leading up to a sort of mezzanine to access the volumes that were higher up. A plush, worn sofa and two cozy looking leather armchairs formed a semicircle in front of a large fireplace containing a crackling fire. A low table sat in front of the sofa, with two cups and a steaming pot of tea already sitting out. Speaking of Hogwarts…

"Hang on, this ship travels in time," Rose stated, realization dawning on her face. The Doctor looked nonplussed.

"Thought that was a bit obvious, between the end of the earth and Charles Dickens," he responded with a raised eyebrow.

"Does that mean you've got books from the future?"

"Of course! What, did you think my collection would end in the early 21st century?"

"No, it's just… have you got the final Harry Potter?" Rose asked hopefully.

The Doctor chuckled, catching on, and pointed. "Third shelf that way, second level. 21st century Earth fantasy. Can't miss it."

Rose grinned and darted off to grab the volume. With a small smile, the Doctor found his Dickens and meandered over to the sofa, plunking himself down in one corner. Rose returned shortly and curled herself up in the other corner, eagerly opening her prize. The two sat in companionable silence, sipping their tea and perusing their respective books in the cozy glow of the fire.

Once Rose finished her tea, she deposited her empty cup back on the low table. After hesitating a moment, she turned herself around on the sofa and leaned against the Doctor's side, reopening her book. She sat slightly stiffly at first, waiting to see what the Doctor's reaction would be, but he simply moved his book over so that he could prop it open with one hand, and stretched his other arm out along the back of the sofa, giving Rose more room. With a contented sigh, she settled herself into his side and returned to her story. It was several hours before she sleepily closed her book and excused herself for bed.