The dinner had been lovely, cold meats and cheese with fresh bread, washed down with the local beer. The night was clear and dark, the only light for their picnic coming from strategically placed torches lining the edges of the huge blanket. The telescope was a short walk away, but they still had some time yet to go before the planets the Doctor wanted to show her rotated into view. Rose snuggled against the Doctor, wriggling her body against his as she found a comfortable position. Her head now resting in the hollow of his left shoulder, she began to feel completely relaxed. She could easily fall asleep this way.

The Doctor brought his left arm around Rose, enjoying the feel of her warm body along his. Her cloak had pooled under her, leaving only her blouse between his left hand and her naked torso; even less than that where the white cotton had come untucked and ridden up her back. He idly stroked his thumb along her bare skin, thinking what it would be like to make love to her here, with only the stars and trees as witnesses. Deciding he'd like to find out, he reached his right arm across his body, using his left arm to prop himself up partially. His right hand gently ran across her cheek before cupping her jaw. Looking down, he felt his breath catch as she looked up at him, eyes dark and flickering in the torchlight. She was lovely, and he felt his hearts constrict as he realized he...

The thought froze, half-formed. Something had skittered across the edge of his vision. Something that didn't belong here. It was the vernal equinox of the Dgegf Froghs; there should be no danger.

Rose felt his mood shift. "Everything allright, Doctor?"

"I think so." He removed his arm from under Rose's back and sat up fully, all senses on alert trying to identify the location of the possible threat. His ran his eyes around the perimeter of the torch lit area, his keen eyesight seeking out what he thought he had seen. Nothing moved.

He was just about to relax when he saw it. Jumping up, he let out a yelp that startled Rose. She looked at the Doctor, his face pale and eyes showing terror. Oh heavens; if the Doctor was terrified, they were in trouble. Deep trouble. She stood quickly and instinctively sought protection behind him, leaning up on her tiptoes to ask, "What is it? I thought we were safe tonight!"

The Doctor appeared not to have heard her, focusing all of his attention on the menace lurking in the dark. Rose felt her stomach lurch with fear, her heartbeat galloping along at an increasing pace as the tension grew. The Doctor slowly slid a hand inside his blue woollen jacket, reflexively searching for his sonic screwdriver. Realising he'd left it back in the castle, he let out a soft "Bollocks!" before taking a deep breath. Rose watched him square his shoulders, seeming to steel himself for whatever fanged, bloodthirsty horror lurked in the darkness. "Ok, Rose? Stay calm, I can handle this. And whatever happens, don't move and don't panic." Rose wanted to argue with his instructions, but the Doctor was already moving stealthily towards the edge of the blanket. Slowly…..slowly……he crept towards the menace lurking out of sight. The silence was thick with tension until, suddenly, the Doctor yelped again and jumped, clearly startled.

"Where'd it go? Where'd it go?!" his voice, agitated, rose in pitch with each word, ending in a register similar to Jackie in full battle mode.

Rose looked around, growing confused. "Where'd what go?" The Doctor continued to look around, his gaze growing panicked, eyes wide, before he found whatever it was that had scared him so. His eyes locked on the threat, his body becoming still and rigid. Rose followed his laserlike gaze, seeing nothing at all before a small movement in the grass caught her eye. The Doctor had seen it move, too, and flinched in response. She blinked, making sure that he was reacting to what she had seen. A quick glance at the grass, then back to the Doctor, practically white-eyed with fear, confirmed it. She started to laugh, causing the Doctor to grow even more agitated. "Rose! Shh! Don't startle it or it'll charge!"

Rose laughed uncontrollably, sides aching. The fanged, bloodthirsty monster was nothing more than a mouse.

"What are you doing?" hissed the Doctor. "Shhh!"

"Doctor, it's a mouse," Rose pointed out, gesturing at it. She stepped out from behind his protection to see the little creature better. It was crouching in the grass, looking at them, trembling.

"Yes! Exactly! A mouse! Bloody vernal equinox of the Dgegf Froghs. It lulled me into…being lulled."

"It's probably more scared of us than you are of it," she pointed out, reasonably.

"Would you come back over here?" the Doctor asked, with stiff politeness. "And stand behind me?"

"What?" She looked at him in open amusement. "To get away from the mouse? What's the mouse going to do to us, Doctor?"

"It might eat our food. And it might scurry around and…touch us."

"Touch us?"

The Doctor shivered with exquisite horror at the thought.

"Look at you! You're never scared of anything! Last of the Time Lords! And you're scared of an ickle mouse. You should be ashamed of yourself."

Rose's eyes were twinkling with laughter, catching and reflecting moonlight and starlight. The Doctor had thought her beautiful not ten minutes before. He was now thinking nothing of the sort. He frowned. "If that mouse touches you, Rose Tyler, then I don't."

"Oh, no?"

"No. Not until you wash the…mouse grossness off you."

"Mouse grossness? 'S that a technical term?" Rose looked across at him. He was watching the mouse tensely, as if the little thing were a most serious enemy that he must face down, must try to outmanoeuvre. Rose leaped suddenly, jumping toward him across the blanket, shouting "Boo!" as she did so. The Doctor, already tense and on edge, jumped a mile as he turned to her, reaching for a sonic screwdriver that wasn't there.

"Rose!" he exclaimed, in exasperation, as she dissolved into laughter on the blanket. "That wasn't funny!"

"That was hilarious," Rose countered, gasping for breath.

"Look at you! My assistant!"

"I'm not your assistant," she protested.

"No, you're definitely not assisting me. You're my…laugher-at me. My mocker. My—The time!" He looked up at the sky suddenly, then back at Rose. "Think you can pull yourself together?" he asked, sternly. "The stars are aligned."

Rose wiped at the tears in her eyes as she stood up, picking up her cloak and wrapping it around her. "Can we leave the blanket? With the mouse right here?" she asked, then collapsed weakly against his chest, her face in his shoulder, as she laughed merrily.

He shook his head in disapproval at her inability to grasp the gravity of the mouse situation, even as he lifted his arms up to catch her and hold her against him. "Do you know what I was thinking, right before the mouse showed up and then you started being mean to me?"

"What were you thinking?" she asked, looking up at him now, eyes still gleaming with laughter.

"It was a very nice thought. Maybe, if you're very nice to me, I'll share it with you someday. Come on." He stepped away from her, took her hand to lead her away.

"Doctor—" she protested.

"Shh." He kept one eye warily on his nemesis the mouse, as they skirted at least a few metres away from it on their way to the telescope.

Shaking her head at his overreaction, she fell into step next to him, hand curled comfortably into his. "So why do you hate mice so much?"

"Ever wonder why the plural of 'mouse' is 'mice?' The plural of 'house' isn't 'hice.'"

"But the plural of 'louse' is 'lice,'" she pointed out.

"True," he mused. "Fascinating thing, this language of yours."

"Oh, yes. So why do you hate mice so much?"

"The better question is why don't you hate mice so much? They're dirty, filthy little scavengers, they're just impossible to catch, they eat through everything, and let me tell you something, Rose, in all of space and time, no one has ever succeeded in making a better mouse trap."

Rose glanced over at him, grinning. "You had one on the TARDIS, didn't you?"

"Couldn't get rid of the bloody thing," he grumbled. "I swear the TARDIS liked it. It managed to get into my orange marmalade. I don't know how it managed to do that."

"You never, ever put the lid back on properly," Rose pointed out.

He ignored her. "It was an extraordinarily intelligent mouse. It was strategising against me. It ate through one of my scarves. Why would a mouse want to eat a scarf? That isn't food. Stupid creature."

"You just said it was extraordinarily intelligent."

"It was smart for a mouse. It was nothing next to me," he boasted.

She smiled and stepped closer to him, pressed against his side as they walked. "How'd you get rid of it?"

"It ran out of the TARDIS one day. I don't even remember what planet we were on, except I know it wasn't Earth. As soon as it ran out, I closed the door and the TARDIS and I left."

"Aw. I feel kind of bad for the poor little mouse, stranded on some strange planet."

He looked at her in horror. "Rose. I think it used to watch me while I slept."

She grinned. "Maybe it fancied you."

"You're not being serious," he complained.

"Tell you what." She kissed his cheek. "I'll watch you sleep, make sure no evil mouse ever drops by."

"If you're watching me sleep," he pointed out, reasonably, "that means you're not sleeping, and I wouldn't like that. I like sleeping with you. Here we are."

They had arrived at the telescope, but she had to wonder at his ability to say heart-meltingly sweet things at just the opportune moment for her to be unable to appropriately react to them. He dropped her hand and went fiddling about the telescope, humming to himself.

"There…there…there…Ha!" he pronounced, enthusiastically, then reached out his hand for hers. "Come look."

He pulled her over. She pressed her eye into the lens. He looked up at the sky, with his superior vision, and narrated for her, keeping his arms around her waist, his chin resting on her shoulder as he spoke, an endless listing of their adventures together. "And that's the one where we…" "And then that was the time we…" "You remember that one, you loved the food…" She smiled as she listened to him. They were spectacular stories, lovely stories, and, in a different mood, she would have been dissolved into laughter over them. But she was listening to him now, and his voice was casting a spell. She felt almost as if she were dreaming, everything seemed so relaxed and comfortable and perfect. She closed her eyes, drifting, dozing even.

"Talk to me in Scottish," she murmured, sleepily.

"In Scottish?" he repeated, bemused.

"Y'know. With your Scottish accent thing that you do. The 'och aye' business."

"Oh, don't try that, Rose. Haven't I told you already?" He kissed the base of her neck, lapsed into the Scottish burr. "Are ye even looking at the stars anymore?"

"Mmm," she admitted. "No."

He dropped the Scottish. "Alright. Time for bed."

She opened her eyes immediately. "Bed? What? But I don't want to go to bed."

"You're falling asleep on your feet. And I'm not carrying you back to the castle."

"But it's nice here," she complained, even as she let him lead her away from the telescope. "And you're not speaking Scottish to me."

"Och, aye," he mocked, grinning over his shoulder at her.

"Can't we just sleep here? Under the stars?"

"With the mouse? Anyhow, I promised I'd show you the bathtub. It's as big as a swimming pool, you know."

"Then that would make it a swimming pool and not a bathtub," she yawned.

The Doctor stopped walking, studied her. "I think I need to wake you up," he decided. He bent his head close to hers, held her eyes with his own, long enough, steadily enough, for Rose's breath to catch and for her to realize she wasn't tired at all but drumming with energy. "Run," he whispered at her.

And they did.

It was quiet. Quiet the way it was only quiet on the vernal equinox of Dgegf Froghs. He could hear nothing. Well, there was time clicking steadily on, in the distance of his mind, but he never heard that. It was like hearing the sound of your own heartbeat, your own breath. It only happened when something was wrong.

And nothing was wrong.

The Doctor sighed and relaxed into it, the evenness of the vernal equinox of Dgegf Froghs. Rose was tucked against him, curled into him, which was how she tended to sleep. He kept still, so as not to disturb her, and watched the constellations outside the window, listened to Rose's breaths, to her heartbeat, to the blood throbbing comfortingly at her pulse points. Rose always slept, he thought, as if--if she just held onto him tightly enough--she could keep him here forever. It occurred to him for the first time that he held her hand the same way. Rose Tyler, he thought. You've turned holding hands into an act of desperation on my part.

His hand stroked over her tumbled hair, down her back. She made a sound, a low, long purr of contentment that made him smile. "Are you awake?" he whispered.

She stretched against him and rubbed her head against his chest. "Yes. Sorry for dozing off. I meant to keep watch for any Mice of Doom that might venture our way."

"Don't worry. I've got the sonic screwdriver under the pillow."

There was a moment of silence before she sat up to see him. "You're not joking, are you?"

"Rose." He sighed in exasperation. "You cannot underestimate mice. I made that mistake once before. I will never do it again."

She shook her head at him, smiling fondly, then kissed the tip of his nose. "You're very silly, and very cute."

"Am I?"

"Yes."

"I don't know if I'd say I'm silly—"

"You're dead silly. But don't worry. I love it about you." The words slipped out before she even thought about them. She didn't think about them.

Until he said, "Do you, though?"

She looked down at him, leaned down, rubbed her nose against his and kissed him, slowly and gently, before sliding back down next to him, head settled on his shoulder.

He twirled a strand of her hair around his finger. "You said before that I'm not scared of anything."

"You're not."

"You're wrong."

"I am. You're scared of mice."

"I'm not scared of mice. I have proper respect for mice. You, on the other hand, terrify me."

Rose did not say anything for a moment. She could see the stars outside the window from her position against him. She looked at them. "I terrify you?"

"Your mother's right."

He sounded so serious. She had to lighten the mood. "There's something I never thought I'd hear you say."

"I can't keep you safe. I try, but I—"

"Nobody's safe, Doctor," she interrupted, firmly.

"You should go home," he said.

She waited a beat. "Do you want me to go home?"

"Don't you want that life? That white-picket-fence life?"

"What do you mean?" she asked, hotly. "Married? A housewife? Barefoot and pregnant? Kids and a dog?"

"You're so young. You'll want it someday." His hand slid to rest over her abdomen. "You'll want to be swollen with child, a baby that moves inside of you, that looks to you for everything. You'll want the children, a little golden-headed boy and a little golden-headed girl, and they'll sit and play on your lawn. And you'll buy them red bicycles for Christmas and hide Easter eggs for them to find in the grass. Don't you want that life, Rose?"

She sniffled suddenly. She didn't. Not really. Not exactly the way he was describing it. But, if he was going to talk about children…Well, that really wasn't fair. How could any woman handle it when the man she loved started talking about children? Yes, she wanted to be swollen with child, but she wanted it to be his child. She wanted him to read complicated Gallifreyan texts out loud to her stomach. She wanted to fight with him over what to name it. And he was the one who bought red bicycles for Christmas.

She shifted, turning and sitting up to look down at him. "You didn't answer my question. Do you want me to go home?"

He looked up at her solemnly. "No. But, oh, Rose, I want you to be happy. Safe. You're the one who's never scared of anything. I've seen the things you do. I've seen the things you do for me. If anything were ever to happen to you—"

She laid her finger on her lips. "I'm fine. It's the vernal equinox of the whatever."

"But it isn't always," he pointed out, grimly.

"I don't want that life. The white-picket-fence life. And if I wake up one morning and want it, I'll tell you. And until then, you'll keep me safe and I'll keep you safe. Can't travel through space without a hand to hold, right? So we'd best watch out for each other, yeah?"

He said nothing.

She ruffled his hair to try to get a response. "Agreed?"

He sighed.

She walked her fingers down his chest, down his abdomen…

"Alright, agreed," he said.

She chuckled. "We should get a cat. For the mice."

"I don't like cats," he reminded her.

"But you must like kittens. Everyone likes kittens."

"Kittens are fine but they grow up to be cats."

"I'm going to go buy the TARDIS a kitten," she decided.

"Do you know what I think you're going to do?"

"What?"

He flipped suddenly, trapping her under him, and lapsed into his brogue. "Shall I tell you in Scottish?"

She giggled in delight. "Please do."

Leaning his head down to whisper something wicked in an exaggerated accent into her ear, he paused, catching sight of the imperceptible lightening of the sky. Dawn, he realized. His sense of time nagged at him. The end of the vernal equinox of Dgegf Froghs.

"Doctor?" said Rose, questioningly.

He tore his eyes away from the dawn, smiled down at her. "Sorry. Where was I? Was I here? I think I was about to say this." He ducked his head and murmured into her ear. Rose shrieked with laughter, her hands possessively in his hair, and he smiled. The Doctor rolled with Rose and turned his back on time.