Disclaimer: I own nothing.

The Doctor has been a perfect gentleman. But now it's time for him and Rose to start their adventure again!

Who's ready to see it go down?

Sit back and enjoy!

Love always,

Avoline

Rose rubbed the sleep from her eyes as she entered the console room. She had noticed the slight shifting of the TARDIS, and was going to give the Doctor a piece of her mind for interrupting her sleep. She had barely slept in months, and now that she was finally sleeping good, she intended on getting as much sleep as possible.

"What the bloody hell," she muttered, stepping closer to him. He glanced over his shoulder at her, a sheepish grin on his face.

"Sorry, love," he apologized. "I was trying to get us floating in space so that no one would wonder why there was a random blue box." She couldn't stop the sympathetic smile on her face.

"Hard to drive all by yourself," she stated as she stood next to him. He nodded.

"You're still not eating," he pointed out. She sighed. "You need to eat. It's not good for you to go this long without something."

"I know," she countered, "but I can't. It's not something I can just get over." He shook his head, and before she could blink, he had her trapped between him and the console.

"There's more to it, isn't there," he inquired. She visibly shrank back from him. "Rose, don't keep secrets from me."

Secrets keep us safe. Secrets keep us alive.

"Rose," he repeated, his voice soft and pleading. "What happened?" She sank to the floor, and he knelt before her.

"Secrets keep us safe," she whispered.

"No, they don't," he argued. "Secrets hurt us. Secrets have the power to kill us." She started shaking, and his gentle hands gripped her shoulders. "Rose, tell me." She buried her face in her hands.

Why did he have to push it? Why couldn't he just let certain things stay buried? She didn't want to talk about everything that happened. She didn't want to reveal her darkest secret. Her own parents, Mickey, even John didn't know when they died. They didn't need to. Secrets kept everything the way it was suppose to be.

Suddenly, she felt his fingers on her temples.

"Don't," she forced out.

"You won't tell me," he countered, "which means that you don't want to remember. And you don't have to. Just close your eyes, love, and clear your mind." She did as he said. She trusted him, but she couldn't make herself tell him. She would simply have to let him pick her brain and find what she knew he would.

She could feel his energy as it worked its way through her mind. She kept her mind clear, hoping to make it easier for him.

"Oh, Rose," he murmured, letting her know that he had found his answer. "No wonder you didn't want to talk about it." A strangled sob passed her lips, and she couldn't help but think about the situation she was in.

She had always wanted to be a mother. Seeing little children had always strengthened that desire, and she knew, when she found herself madly in love with the Doctor, that she wanted children with him.

But that was yanked away from her at a Cyberman plant in Moscow.

His arms encircled her, and she leaned against him. She new then that she would never get the chance to be a mother. She would never experience holding a newborn in her arms. She would never watch as a child grew before her eyes into a young adult. All her dreams had been shattered, and the only thing she had left to live for was the Doctor.

"It's okay, Rose," he soothed, his fingers combing her hair. "It's okay. It doesn't make you any less of a person. You're still absolutely wonderful to me." She screamed into his jacket.

It wasn't fair. It just wasn't fair. She wanted children; was wonderful with children. Why was she denied that one wish?

"It's not fair," she protested. "It's not bloody fair!"

"I know, love, I know," he repeated, holding her even tighter. "It doesn't change how I feel about you. Don't think that it will ever change how I feel about you." She screamed once again.

It wasn't fair. At all.