The Doctor is discussing the preference of cotton pyjamas over flannel, eventually explaining that anything would do, but ending up with two sets of each anyway. He simply rolls his eyes as the poor clerk adds the bedclothes to the now mountainous pile of clothing on the desk. Socks, pants, trousers, t shirts and no end of other 'essentials' have accumulated. Glancing at his watch he realises they have been nearly an hour and a half, he wants to go back to Rose, being apart from her feels so wrong at the moment. Having things bought for him feels wrong, not being the driver feels wrong. He could list a lot of things, but even listing things feel wrong. "Right, I think we're done, I'll just get them to bag it all up" Pete is in his element, he pays and helps the Doctor carry the ridiculous number of bags out to the waiting car. They drive back in relative silence, the Doctor only talking to thank Pete again and politely, but grudgingly, accept an offer of breakfast at the big house tomorrow morning. He thinks Pete gives him a meaningful look, but is too focused on getting back to Rose to acknowledge, or discuss it. At least there's some familiarity there, even if she doesn't smile the way she used to.

Bounding up to the house he lets himself in after a moment's hesitation, the sun is beginning to set in the sky. Its early autumn, but the sun is already setting at around 6pm. Dumping all his bags he scans the living room and kitchen before calling out "Rose?" no response, there is soft music playing, he recognises the flower duet and hums along with it as he smells lavender on the air. "Rose?" he calls again, this time outside the bathroom. When no response comes again he knocks and calls louder. Panic is welling in him, he feels like the lost child in the market place, suddenly and unwittingly alone.

She still hasn't responded when he knocks louder and with considerably more urgency, weighing the pros and cons of finding Rose naked and luxuriating in a bath he opens the door cautiously and peers in, at first he thinks that she must have gone to bed without emptying the tub, that would be just like her, but as he nears the bath he sees with horror that she is submerged, totally under the water. In the split second it takes for him to process this information he has vaulted the steps over the edge of the bath and is pulling her with a hand under either armpit out of the water. Having pulled her to sit upright he pushes her hair out of her face, only to find a very startled pair of eyes staring back at him. "Ah...not drowning then?" he feels himself blushing, he's still holding her under her arms frozen in place like a startled animal in the headlights.

Rose is too shocked to react. She has gone from a blissfully warm and quiet cocoon under the bubbles floating on the surface of her bath, to being face to face with an irate alien. He's making those strange awkward squawking noises he does when he's uncomfortable or embarrassed, a babbling explanation is tumbling between his noise making, as he removes his arms and steps dripping wet out of her bath. "Yes...well I have...I think...I should go...yes".

She watches him head for the door, his wet sneakers slapping the floor with a squelch. "Doctor..." her voice stills him, she sits so that she can wrap her arms around her knees, covering everything as best she can, "are you...ok?" she berates herself mentally for the question, he stops with his back to her "would you pass me that towel?" She says quickly, before he has to answer her loaded question.

Neither of them was ready for the answers that may come to light. He looks back at her then, his face awash with so many emotions it's like watching water flowing over reeds, he pulls a large towel from the foot of the small steps up to the baths edge and crouches down. Holding the towel open for her he turns his head and waits for her to rise and take it from him. She pulls the thick towel around herself like a shield. Securing it around her chest, she glanced up and was caught in eyes that boiled like the darkest storm clouds. Drawing suddenly thin air into her lungs, feeling the rush of adrenaline rush from her centre to her head at dizzying speeds she swayed under his gaze. He looked angry, violent. There was a tense look to his eyes that said more than his intense stare.

Without warning his gaze broke leaving her frozen until his mouth swept down onto hers. A hand cupping the base of her skull and an arm around her waist lifted her onto tip toe to meld her mouth with his. He was eating at her mouth, his lips and tongue devouring her. This should be her movie moment. The one where the music swells and the viewer feels joy and jealousy in equal parts pour into them. She clings to him, her arms around his neck, hanging on like she was caught in a hurricane force wind, as he ravaged her mouth.

Both pull away with a gasp, a deep inhalation against the others lips. He's looking down at her, the intensity is still there, heated by the electric atmosphere around them. She pushes her hands up in to his hair, bolder now than before, tangling her fingers into his unruly. He growls, actually growls, low and deep in his throat, it almost makes her giggle, but there's something a bit too animalistic about it. His mouth meets her neck, biting down without preamble. "God!" She can't hold in the half shout, it tears from her lips as he bites her fluttering pulse point before soothing it with his tongue. Clinging now to his shoulders she feels her knees weaken, half slumping against him as he bites along her collar bones, treading a fine line between foreplay and pain, Paying attention to every inch of her chest exposed by her now slipping towel.

He can barely breathe as his body hums with want. Like a starving man at a banquet he ate at her mouth, her neck her chest. He feels intoxicated by her heady taste and the soft scent of Rose. He's angry, so angry it burns inside him, the only thing he can do is push the anger somewhere safe, or safer, push it into desire and want. A very rational, very Time Lord half of his mind is demanding that he unhand her, wrap her in the towel he is working on loosening to access more skin, and send her to her room with an apology.

Another rather more primal part of him which he would love to blame the human element within him for, despite an inkling that this particular ferocity is reserved especially for this particularly beautiful ape, drives him. He feels her begin to sag against him, and briefly wonders whether she has fainted from the shock of being savaged by him, until he feels her push her body closer to his, and groan against his ministrations. It's all he needs in the way of encouragement, and he pulls away taking her hand and dragging her down the corridor, through the entrance hall to the huge settee in the living room. Pulling her to him he kisses her again, slowly and thoroughly. He forces himself to taking his time, to cool off enough to figure out exactly what made his Rose moan into his mouth, groan and push her body against his, when her knees finally began to sag again he let them. Allowing their collective weight to land on the settee. His Rose, definitely his, and no one else's. The thought hits him at an odd angle, shocks him that he could behave so possessively.

He felt her stiffen momentarily as she became aware that the motion had left her straddling his lap, the towel parted so that only her breasts were covered. He didn't give her chance to think, to pull away, he can't take rejection, not now. He notices with satisfaction that she can't hold the plea in as he bites down on the curve where shoulder becomes neck and she shudders against him. "Oh God, Doctor."

He chuckles darkly, raising his head to look at her, and found it was his gasp that echoed around the softly lit room, as she bucked her hips against him, grinding her heat against the throbbing bulge trapped between them. The feel of her grinding against his hard and aching cock sends his head back, and she begins to kiss his neck, tasting his skin all the way down to his collar bones, charting the course of the blood vessels under the skin. He pulls the edges of the towel apart revealing her body like some Grecian goddess, her damp blonde tendrils clinging to her shoulders as she drops her head forwards. He feels the nerves and shy embarrassment roll off her, and cups her buttocks, running his hands from those round soft cheeks up her back, to feel all of her curves. She leans backwards into his touch, rapture passing over her face like white fluffy clouds on a blustery day.

She realises that she is just along for the ride, with no control over his actions, when he dips his head to bite and suck at one tight nipple doing things with his tongue she has no idea it's possible to do, while his other hand teases her left breast. She arches into him again, moaning loudly. He growls against the mouth full of skin he has drawn beneath his teeth and the sound and vibration makes her squirm in his lap. He grips her hips a little harder and yanks her forcefully as close as she can be, releasing her nipple with a pop. Without warning, rose finds herself mid air, supported solely by the Doctors hands on her buttocks. Instinctively she wrapped her legs around his waist, pressing herself against him. He emits a strangled "Gah," as she bites on his earlobe and most of the coherent thought he had left escapes him, fluttering away like butterflies. His body is throbbing with the need to feel her skin against his, and he has to resist the urge to push her against the wall, dressed or not, and fuck the anger out. He can barely grasp structured thoughts through the fog of need. The throb is so intense that he fears his new solitary heart may just give up on him. "Bedroom" She nods towards the only door he hasn't thought of trying, amidst the rolling heat and lust. Once inside he pays little attention to the room, other than to spot the bed and lay a very flushed Rose upon it.

Shrugging off his jacket and treading his sopping pumps off by their heels he looks up to see her watching him avidly, her eyes darker than he has ever seen them. Her hands hesitate as they slip under the now open fabric of his shirt, making to slide around his waist. He took those faltering hands, placing them on his chest, encouraging her to explore, feel him. When she slid her hands around his waist and up his back, dragging her nails lightly over his skin he actually whimpered out loud, his mouth descending on hers once again.

. She was pressed against his body, she could feel him hard against her abdomen, the sensation thrilled and frightened her simultaneously. Stepping back enough for him to shrug wet fabric from his shoulders, then go to undo his trousers, Rose realised she must have been staring because he paused then, his hand on the fastening. The look in his eyes wasn't a question, she couldn't decipher it, it was almost a demand, a want too intense to translate. She could feel him like a source of heat, a pressure in the room. Bottling out of the moment, she glanced away only to have his hand cup the side of her face and his mouth descend on hers. He had to wriggle to step out of the wet fabric which clung to his legs. She realised he must not have been wearing underwear as she boldly ran her hands over his high firm buttocks, eliciting a gasp and shudder from him. Pressed suddenly against his body, she felt her earlier shyness rush back. She could feel him trapped between them, rock hard. Still locked in a searing kiss he moved them backwards towards the bed, before parting from her to crawl on. This move forced her to look at him, holding out his hand to help her up, kneeling like a lanky Adonis on her bed. But it wasn't him anymore. Not her Doctor, this wasn't what she had wanted, this angry passion. His words echoed back to her, and their selfishness hit her, she had made him better, she could do the same for his broken copy.

She felt the apprehension slip into her body language, the sight of him, naked and wanting, holding out a hand to her, demanding that she fix him. Her hesitation must have registered because his hand dropped, his eyes dropped, and her chest tightened.

She put her hand in his and crawled up to him, rising to mirror his kneeling position. She pushed his hair out of his face with the other hand, studying him for the first time. The fine lines around his eyes, the creases in his brow, the angle of his cheek bones. She took him in, not sure what she was looking for, before raising her lips to his again, softly, tasting him. She felt him shake, felt wetness hit her wrist where her hand cupped his face, and pulled away to see his dark eyes swimming, overflowing down his cheeks. He blinked, bowing slightly as though in pain, as though he was curling around his pain, and heavy tears fell down his cheeks. He reached out a hand to cup her face, wiping his thumb over her cheek, swiping away the tears she didn't realise she had been crying. He buried his face in her shoulder, and let one loud, jarring sob escape. They were both abandoned here, both had risked everything to help, both had been put away, archived permanently with good intention, but shelved none the less. They both had their scars, deep claws of hardened feelings on their souls, both were damaged.

Somehow through the tears, they ended up curled up, wrapped around each other, Sobbing for their own losses. The stayed that way until the tears were cried, until their heads throbbed with the expulsion of emotions and fluids. They lay naked, curled, defenceless against the world. He pulled her, tighter against him, so that her head lay on his chest. "I'm sorry" its mumbled into her hair distorted through snotty sinuses. She curls closer to him, flinging an arm out to draw the coverlet over them.

"It's ok"