Mickey led Rose from the control room. He knew better than to actually think she was going to be up to giving him a tour of the place at the moment, but he also knew that the Doctor had looked like he needed some space at the moment.

Fancy that: needing space when you're floating out in the middle of it in a teeny little blue police box. He shook his head and slipped his arm around Rose's waist. Funny how he'd adjusted so quickly to the fact that he wasn't Rose's boyfriend anymore. Nothing had really been made official: it was more of a feeling. He was no longer the main male in Rose's heart, not that he really ever thought he'd been in the first place. It was just that he'd seen how Rose looked at the Doctor, even when he made her cry. He'd seen how she changed once she'd met the Doctor, and would be hard-pressed to say that it was a bad change. It just reinforced his belief that they'd never really been meant to be. It was hard to explain, and he was hardly a man to sit around and think about how he was feeling.

How Rose was feeling though, he didn't need to think about. He already knew. Maybe it was the TARDIS translating from body language to…Mickeyspeak, but he could sense the feelings coming off of Rose as they walked. Still, of course, he had no idea what to do about them. Should he speak right now, or say nothing and let her be? He wished the TARDIS could just tell him what to do. But then, that might be putting too much faith in the vessel of that man in there. He really had no idea how Rose felt about him, when it was so blatantly, painfully obvious to absolutely everyone who'd ever seen them. He shook his head as they reached what he assumed to be Rose's room. It looked a little like Rose's bedroom back at home, so he figured the coincidence was just too great. She went inside, sitting on her bed with a whispery sigh, and he leaned in the doorway, looking at her.

He still wasn't sure what should be said at a point like this. Should he be talking about how fortunate it was that the Doctor had found a way back to them? Should he be talking about what as arse he was? Should he even know that? He took a step towards Rose, then a step back towards the doorway. Did she want him in here? He groaned inwardly and went to sit next to Rose, slipping his arm around her back. He could sit here in silence, he decided: just let her direct whatever conversation they might have. That was obviously the better idea.

So for a long time (not that he really knew how long it was) they sat there in silence, until Rose finally turned to him, as though in some sort of daze. He looked at her expectantly, still going with the thought that it was best to let her start talking.

"He left, Mickey," she said, and her voice sounded strangely flat. It wasn't hollow, really…just…flat. Lacking of emotion. Was this what shock sounded like? He narrowed his eyes at her.

"Who? The Doctor? No he didn't. Remember, Rose? He's in there at the console, flying this thing through space and time. You were just talking to him. Don't you feel well?" He reached up to feel her forehead—maybe she was running a fever or something like that. She knocked his hand away with an indignant huff.

"Mickey, that's not what I meant," she spat out. At least she didn't sound so void of emotion anymore. "Mickey, he did leave us. Alright, sure, he managed to find a way back, but that was just dumb luck, wasn't it?" She shook her head. "Nevermind, just forget it. I'm being stupid about this whole thing. I'm alright now, really." She gave him a smile, and he studied her silently. She didn't honestly expect him to believe that, did she? From the looks of things, she did. Alright, fine. He stood up.

"Okay, then," he said. "I'm gonna go to my room now, alright? If you need anything, then just come find me."

Rose gave him that Look, and he shrugged, holding his hands out in front of him. "Hey, I was just saying." He didn't leave, though, stopping in her doorway. "Look, Rose…" He trailed off, trying to think of something reassuring and comforting to say, but she cut him off before he could get it out.

"Mickey, please…" She said softly. Her tone surprised him. "I'll be alright, I just need…some time, is all. Thanks." She looked up at him, eyes somewhat watery but overall still very…Rose. He nodded, glad to see she was a little better, and went to press a kiss to her forehead before heading to his room, as he'd said he would.

Finally alone, Rose lay back on her bed, picking at the fuzz on her shirt. This was ridiculous. Why should it matter to her, exactly why the Doctor came back to her? Wasn't it enough that he came back, period? She meant enough to him—even if it was only duty-wise or something—that he gave up this woman that he loved for her. She turned over onto her side. What was she expecting? Did she want this man to fall madly in love with her or something? Did she even think she was in love with him? He had needed to save Reinette, Madame Pompadour. He could hardly be expected to have gone into soliloquies about how much he loved her and how much he'd miss her and…no. She sighed and closed her eyes. She'd just sleep, that was all. Sleep was good—healing, restful sleep would probably be a great idea.

Or, you know, any other kind of sleep would do too, really…