"Well, what's all this, then? Has someone died?"

It was a familiar voice: too familiar. It was a dream, that was all. Rose sobbed a little harder, clutched Mickey's shirt while he rubbed her back. "Rose, look up, love," he says, nudging her gently. He can't be having the same dream, she told herself. It's just not fair.

Unless…maybe he's talking about one of those clockwork men again. At this point, she decided, it wouldn't be so bad to be locked into one of those metal beds while something sawed into her flesh or bone or whatever they'd wanted to take from her. She was numb enough now, that it wouldn't hurt. Maybe it'd even feel nice—physical pain to even out the pain on her insides. Mickey jarred her again, and she finally pulled away, ready now to face either her hallucination or her death.

But he stood there, hands in his pockets and one of those cocky grins on his face, and she jumped up, moving to stand in front of him. He accepted her disbelief: stood silently as she moved forward to tentatively press one finger to his jaw line, moving her touch along his face, to make sure he was real. Finally, she was convinced and moved even closer, to pull him to her in one of their fierce, joyous hugs. She breathed him in—he still smelled the same, if not somewhat sweaty (nerves'll do that to you) and with just a hint of some light, delicate, French perfume (so'll hugging French women).

"How long did you wait?" he asked, and he could hear the smile in his voice, along with some sort of…urgency.

"Five and a half hours," she told him, or thereabouts anyway. Too long, that's how long she'd waited. All of her life. But that wasn't what he was asking. He wanted to know exact time, which was both surprising and unsurprising, given who he was, what he was.

"Right," he said, holding her arms. "Always wait five and a half hours, then." Was that rule number three now? Or four—she didn't often keep track. But instead of leading them all onto the TARDIS, taking them all to some other time or planet or ship, even, he was running about this ship again, readying himself for…for what? Rose watched him for a second, as he returned to Reinette's room via the fireplace. So he was going back for her. Briefly Rose wondered whether there'd be room on the TARDIS for yet another companion, and then her sense of logic began tugging at her.

Of course there wasn't room for another companion, it told her—he'd found his new companion, and the first stop they'd take when he brought his beautiful French lady on board, would be back to London to drop off his old companion. That's all she was, after all. Just a companion, someone to hold his hand in the dark and cold of space. Maybe he was tired of her, or thought she was tired of him, and would now make her leave, return to her former life. Now that she'd seen how he lived, what life could really be, that 'old life' of hers was nothing at all. She dreaded going back home—or whatever the Doctor called her home. Stupid, idiot, thick-headed man that he was, he had yet to realize that he was her home, and that place on Earth was just where the rest of her family lived.

She sighed, and then followed Mickey onto the TARDIS. Or what if he was just going to lock them in here, send them back? There wasn't anything she could do about it then, if he wanted to stay here in France with his Reinette. She stood in the middle of the control room, hoping that, instead of the engines of the TARDIS, she'd hear the doors. Instead of a hologram of her Doctor, she'd see the real thing standing before her. Hoping, against hope, that he would choose her over the obvious better choice. It was all stupid, really, but…she still couldn't keep from hoping.

"What're you looking so scared for?"

Mickey's voice intruded upon her thoughts, restarted her heart. She looked over at him, somewhat sheepishly and yet somewhat annoyed at him for interrupting her. He rolled his eyes at her. "Rose, you can't possibly think that the Doctor would leave us here while he went off cavorting with that French woman." She arched her eyebrow at him. He already had, hadn't he? He'd made it quite clear earlier, where his heart was, when he went through that window knowing he'd never make his way back. That he'd returned really spoke more to his sense of duty to the two of them than any sort of love she hoped he might feel towards her. Before she could find a way to put any of this into English, the door opened and the Doctor returned.

Strange that she couldn't find it in herself to be happy he was back. Her heart rate hadn't sped up, and she felt no inclination to go running into his arms. Mostly it was because he looked so upset right now, so quietly heartbroken that she didn't want to interrupt him. Also, it was because now that she knew where his hearts lay, she doubted whether he'd accept a hug from her or anything like that. She bit her lip, studying him as he moved around the panel, mumbling about the rest of the time windows and confusion and what else. Everything felt so strange right now, now that she'd seen him as a man in love.

"Why her?" It was a stupid question. She knew 'why her,' but somehow, wanted to hear it from her Doctor's mouth. He looked at her strangely, and she realized that she'd asked him aloud. She hurried to amend her question, asking something useless about the ship and the head of Madame Pompadour. That wasn't what she'd meant at all, but knew the Doctor would never realize it. She felt Mickey's eyes on the back of her head, but ignored them, lowering her own eyes so she wouldn't have to look at the Doctor like this. He answered her question, moving to the control panel and talking about the time windows or some such rubbish. He didn't understand.

But he was alright, he said, holding her gaze and looking much more sure of himself than she felt right now. He was always alright.

He was also a liar. He was not alright. But somehow, even though she knew how upset he was at the moment, Rose couldn't stop thinking of herself. Would he say that after she'd gone? Would he tell his new companion that, sure, of course he was alright. She was just some Earth girl, nothing too important. He smiled, though it didn't reach his eyes, and certainly didn't do a damn thing to hide any of his sadness. She tilted her head, watching him, trying to decide whether he'd let her hug him not out of triumph or relief, but out of sympathy. She didn't want to see him this sad…

She couldn't move towards him, however—Mickey took hold of her hand, pulled lightly. She followed him silently out of the room, under the pretense of showing him round the rest of the TARDIS. They both knew she wouldn't be playing Trudy Tour Guide right now, but maybe Mickey realized something that she didn't, couldn't. In any case, it wouldn't do the Doctor any favors to stand there, staring at him. He was here again, which meant he had left Reinette in favor of Mickey and Rose. He'd given up love for duty. He needed time alone, to contemplate that, even more than she'd need time to resign herself to the fact that she was mere duty, as opposed to love.