Rose didn't come in the next day.

James found himself wondering where she was. He hadn't had the chance to talk to her after having successfully dealt with Reinette, and he'd told Martha not to tell her that the situation had been handled. He wanted to be the one to talk to her, and he wanted to make sure she knew that he would be quite disheartened if their affiliation ended now.

She didn't come in the day after that either, and slowly the whole week passed by without her teasing presence. James staunchly refused to admit that he looked over to the door hopefully whenever it opened, because he was absolutely not smitten with the girl he barely knew, but it still stung that Rose had apparently dropped off the face off the earth.

If Martha noticed his bitterness at her absence, she said nothing. He wondered if she had warned Rose off like she had him, or if she'd warned Rose about his obvious attachment to her. Would that be enough to drive her off? Did she feel like he was pushing the charade too far?

Perhaps she'd simply tired of him altogether. The possibility was real but unpleasant.

Had he maybe insulted her in some way? She hadn't seemed angry at him when she'd left the last time, but he would be the first to admit he often missed social cues, something Martha loved to tease him about.

James was fairly convinced he'd never lived through a longer week in his life – even that one week in uni when he hadn't slept for four days straight because he'd been studying for his exams. This was worse.

It was the eighth day of his torture that she finally came back.

James's eyes went to the door as they usually did, and his face lit up when it was finally her coming in. His pleasure didn't last very long, because one look at Rose had him frowning.

She'd obviously lost some weight – far too much for only a few days – and he could see makeup she didn't usually wear around her eyes, presumably to help conceal the fatigue that was creasing the skin around her eyes. Her usually warm gaze was heavy and slightly dull, and he could see the exhaustion in her expression. Her usually immaculate hair was pulled into a messy ponytail; the kind he could see her doing after getting frustrated with hair falling in her eyes. She was still beautiful, of course, because she was Rose and James McCrimmon would always think Rose Tyler was beautiful, but her evidently rough week had left her haggard.

He came out from behind the coffee counter and went over to her, a frown still on his face. Her lips pulled into a tired smile when she saw him and she made her way over to where he was waiting. When she got closer, he extended his arms, offering her hug, and her answering smile was thankful as she stepped into the embrace, wrapping her arms around his waist as he wrapped his around her shoulders. She sunk gratefully into the hug, resting her head on on chest.

At that moment, Martha came out of the staff room, stopping when she saw the two, her eyes widening as she met James's confused expression. She raised an eyebrow in a silent question, and he shook his head slightly not to jostle the girl in his arms. Martha jerked her head in the direction of the staff room, and James nodded. To Rose, he said, "go into the staff room. I'll make you a coffee and I'll be right there, alright?"

She nodded but didn't move out of his grip, making him chuckle. The laugh seemed to help, because when she stepped away there was a slight smile on her lips. Carefully, James pressed a kiss to her forehead, his heart speeding up in his chest as he considered that this was the first time that he was kissing Rose only for her, not as display or an act. The thought made him slightly giddy, though he did his best to hide it from her.

Rose's gaze darted around the room, and finding a distinct lack of Reinette, she looked back at him with a smile, her cheeks flushing pink. Without saying anything more she headed into the staff room, and James went to make her a coffee. He went simple this time – a hazelnut latte that was fairly popular with his customers and that wouldn't take to long.

"What was that about?" Martha asked quietly from her position at the cash register.

"No idea," James said honestly as he expertly worked the espresso machine. He made the drink quickly, eager to get back to Rose. He waved quickly at Martha, who pressed her lips into a tight smile, and headed into the staff room, closing the door soundlessly behind him.

Rose was sitting at the table at the same place she'd sat over a week ago, but this time instead of smiling at him when she saw him come in she was facedown, her forehead resting on her forearms. She looked up when the door closed and smiled weakly. He handed her the coffee and pulled up a chair so that he was sitting next to her rather than across from her. He didn't say anything for several moments, letting her cup the warm ceramic with both hands, staring at it far too intently with tired eyes.

Finally, she looked up at him. "Thank you, James," she said quietly, no teasing lilt in her voice.

Lightly, he ran his hand over her hair, feeling tangles and knots under his fingers that he was certain the Rose Tyler from one week ago had not had. He wanted to ask what was wrong – to comfort her, to take her pain away, but when he found his voice, all that came out was, "are you alright?"

Rose squeezed her eyes shut and scratched her forehead with warm fingers. "Yes," she replied, somewhat on automatic. "No," she amended a few seconds later. Her hand returned to the mug and she let out a deep breath, shaking her head slightly. "I don't know." She said quietly.

"What happened?" He asked, knowing his concern was evident in his voice but not particularly caring.

She didn't reply for several minutes, her heavy gaze back on the coffee mug. Slowly, she lifted her head, her lips lightly pressed together, her gaze directly ahead. "A few weeks ago, I hired a new staff member. He was brilliant, really brilliant, and he knew it, but I figured the cockiness was alright because it was deserved – the man is brilliant with computers. A few of the board members argued. Where I found him…I don't…" she frowned to herself. "The process was…unusual. But I thought he was clever, and I thought that with the right training –" her voice broke, and when she finally looked up at him, there were tears beginning to form in her eyes. She looked away and hurriedly dried them with her fingers. "I guess it became a game to him. Instead of trying to learn to work with us, he hacked into the system using a chip he bought using the company name. Finance assumed he'd been given leave to do it because he had all the proper paperwork. It must have been one of the first things he managed to hack into.

"God knows where he found a storage key that would fit that much information, but he started small. One or two files here and there, seeing if he could slip past our defenses, get some of our less guarded files. It worked – we didn't know what was going on until a week ago – and he got bold. He'd take more files, more information, documents that very few people in the world have access to. He'd put them on a USB key and take them home, we think. We don't know for certain, because he hasn't plugged the dratted thing into any system we can monitor ourselves. Apparently he got what he wanted, or decided he'd proved himself – I don't know – but he didn't come to work last week. No notice, no call in, nothing.

"After a three days, I was notified. I put my reputation on the line for this stupid bloke, and he'd stopped showing up to work. Some of the tech experts took his computer – it's fairly suspicious when someone stops coming in, especially in our division – and worked their tech magic on it. I don't really understand it – I have very little to do with them, usually – but they told me what was going on. We don't even have a full inventory of what he stole yet." She laughed humourlessly. "And we have to hope he slips up and plugs the damn key into a computer we can track to retrieve the information."

James felt a click of understanding in his mind. "You don't know where he is," he realized, his horrified voice barely above a whisper. "He has all this information and you don't know where he is."

"It's my fault." Her words were whispered, but filled with terrible self-loathing and hopelessness. "I hired him. I vouched for him. And now –"

"No," James said emphatically, still lightly threading his fingers through her hair. His free hand went to her cheek, his thumb swiping across her cheekbone to catch a tear that had leaked through. "Rose, it's not your fault. You couldn't have known what he would do," he reassured her as best he could, knowing his words would not ease her sense of guilt.

"But it is," Rose said quickly, meeting his gaze. "James, my job…" she trailed off, her eyes going back to the coffee mug for several seconds before lifting to back to his face. "The technology we have available is incredible. Sometimes it feels like I'm showing the new recruits the universe. You should see the looks on their faces," she smiled wistfully, "and that's all I wanted to do. I wanted to show this clever bloke the universe, because who can really feel entirely self important when it comes to the universe?" She sighed deeply. "I let my emotions get in the way, and I've put my company in danger because of it."

"Rose," He gently cupped her face with both hands, leaning forward to press his forehead against hers. "I'm so sorry. But don't let the actions of one man convince you that being kind is a mistake."

"But it was my fault," she whispered again.

Realization hit James hard. "Rose," he said hesitantly, keeping her face in his hands but drawing his head away so that he could meet her gaze. "Have you been at your office for a week straight?"

One corner of her lips pulled into a weak smile. "Is it that obvious?"

And he understood. She hadn't let herself lose her strength for a full week. She'd literally lived in her office to try and make up for her mistake, giving her whole self to her job because she felt that it was her responsibility to fix the ills of the world. It was just so Rose that he couldn't believe he hadn't understood from the moment she'd walked into the shop. This was her allowing herself a moment of weakness in the relative privacy of the café's staff room.

In front of him.

He wasn't sure how to describe how he was feeling. He felt for her, naturally. She was obviously beyond exhausted from trying to fix her perceived wrongs, but he also felt a growing sense of intimacy. This strong girl was showing him her weak side – most people probably didn't even realize she had a weak side, and she had privileged him with the knowledge, seeking his comfort above everyone else's.

That solidified his decision.

"I only have to work for another half hour, then Donna's coming in," he told her quietly, running his thumb over her cheekbones. "Stay here, wait for me, and then I'll walk you home." She opened her mouth to protest, but he lightly pressed his index fingers to her lips. "No buts," he told her with a small smile. "You're not good to anyone if you work yourself to death, Rose. You need to take a break."

Her lips curled into a wry smile, and her eyes warmed considerably. "Doctor's orders, is it?" She asked him teasingly, sounding more like herself.

His answering smile was affectionate as he remembered their joke – the Doctor and Rose Tyler, saving the universe – and he chuckled. "Exactly. What good am I without my sidekick, anyway?"

"Oh, none at all," Rose teased again. "Thank you, James."

He leaned forward and pressed a light kiss to her forehead. "Any time, Rose."

He stood to leave, knowing he had to at least get some work done before he left for the day, and immediately she pulled her cellphone out of her pocket. He pointed his finger threateningly at the device. "No working," he said firmly.

She smiled at him and showed him the screen, where he saw a game of solitaire. "No working," she promised.

The following half hour, if possible, seemed to pass more slowly than all seven days without Rose combined, because now she was waiting for him in the staff room while he was stuck in the shop, serving drinks with a fake smile and growing impatience.

At 2PM on the dot, the end of his shift, he looked up hopefully at Martha, who was watching him with an amused expression on his face. She jerked her head towards the staff room door, a knowing smile on her lips.

He smiled gratefully at his boss and quickly slipped into the staff room. Rose looked up hopefully when she heard the door, and returned his wide grin with a small smile of her own. He practically floated over to the coatrack, where his preferred long brown trench coat awaited. He slipped it on and checked his pockets for his keys and wallet. Once he was satisfied that he had everything, he turned to Rose, who had already stood from her seat and pulled on her jacket. "Ready?" He asked cheerfully, offering his hand.

She hesitated for a moment before taking it, as though suddenly unsure, but wound their fingers together nonetheless, nodding her assent. He squeezed her hand gently and led her out of the staff room. She seemed mildly confused and looked up at him questioningly as they made their way through the shop to the door.

Both of them waved to Martha and Donna, who had just stepped in for her shift.

"I took your advice," he explained once they'd stepped outside. She inclined her head curiously. "About Reinette, I mean. I told her up front and clearly that I wasn't interested. I think it worked."

She smiled. "I'm glad."

"I wanted to tell you a week ago, but…" he trailed off, looking down at her hesitantly, and to his surprise he saw his own hesitation reflected in her expression. He squeezed her hand. "Rose, I don't…" He frowned wondering on earth he'd managed to have a week to figure out what to say but still come up blank. "I don't want to stop seeing you," he told her quickly. "I think…Rose, I like you a lot," he cursed his useless gob. He would talk for all of England, wasn't that what Jack had once told him? But his usual gob was failing him, and he looked helplessly down at her.

A small chuckle escaped her, and she leaned her head onto his bicep. "I don't want to stop seeing you either." She told him, a small smile on her lips.

"Right," he squeaked. "Good. Brilliant. Molto bene."

She stopped, stopped, looking confused.

"What?" He asked, worried.

"I left my car at my work," she said with a frown.

"Oh." He blinked in surprise. He hesitated before speaking again, "you could come to mine," he suggested, trying to sound nonchalant and knowing he was failing miserably. Her eyes widened in alarm, and he rushed to reassure her, "Not like that! I just meant…bollocks, I just meant you could use the company, and… and I like within walking distance of your work. I could walk you there, tomorrow. To your work, I mean. I could walk you to your work tomorrow."

"I –" She trailed off, biting her lip nervously. "I don't have an over night bag."

He snorted. "You've been living at your work for a week. Do you have a change of clothes there?"

She blushed. "Yes, but –"

"No buts," he told her again. Seeing her hesitant look, he sighed. "You deserve some rest, Rose. Come to mine. We can watch a movie and get some take away, and then go to sleep in completely different rooms." He realized how he might sound demanding, so he added, "you don't have to, obviously, but –"

"I get it," Rose laughed, finally moving her feet again. "Lead the way, James."

He grinned and squeezed her hand, leading her towards his flat.

She looked around when she stepped into the small flat, taking in the old couch that faced a television that looked like it had seen several upgrades (probably from James rather than a professional), his many gadgets lying around, and the kitchen that was littered in dirty dishes.

Looking around, James realized what a mess the place was. "Sorry," he said sheepishly. "I wasn't expecting company, and I'm not much of a cleaner…"

"It's fine, James," Rose told him with a smile, slipping out of her shoes and coat. He took the jacket and hung it next to his in the small closet. "It's big," she commented idly, though it was nothing compared to the size of her large flat. "Do you have a flatmate?"

"Yeah," James said as he led her into the living room. "Don't see much of him, actually. He spends a lot of time at work."

"What does he do?"

James frowned. "You know, I'm not a hundred percent sure." He said honestly, shrugging at her. She grinned, hugging herself as she looked around. "You want a cuppa?" James asked, because when in doubt, make tea.

"Sure, ta," Rose said gratefully, following him into the small kitchen.

He tried to take her in discretely. Her makeup was several days old, now that he was really looking, and her hair was still tangled. "You could take a shower, if you wanted," he offered as he filled the kettle with water, wincing when he realized what she might think he was implying.

But she looked grateful. "Yeah?" She asked. "I've been using the decontamination shower at work. Would kill for a real one."

"Of course." He started up the kettle and led her into his bedroom. She trailed a few steps behind as he dug through his drawers for some clothes she could wear afterwards. "I don't have anything that'll actually fit you," he told her apologetically, handing her a pair of his black fleece sweatpants and one of his old Star Trek t-shirts.

"That's alright," Rose said as she took the offered clothes and followed him into the bathroom. He reached into their linen closet, thankful that he'd done his laundry recently and had a clean towel to offer. He placed it on the sink, within reach of the shower, and then looked at her. She seemed somewhat uncomfortable, and, in an effort to help, he simply said, "alright, then," and stepped out of the bathroom and closed the door behind him, wincing at his own foolishness. He moved to the couch and sat heavily, listening to the kettle heat the water in the kitchen and the water that Rose had just turned on in the bathroom.

Rose was taking a shower in his flat.

Rose was naked in his bathroom, only a few feet away from him.

He was glad she couldn't see his whole face flush red. He used the fact that she was in the bathroom to his advantage, washing some of the dishes that cluttered the kitchen. He also changed the sheets on his bed, meaning to offer it to her and sleep on the couch himself. She needed it more than he did, he told himself, and she deserved a clean bed.

The kettle began to hiss loudly and he hurried to the kitchen to take it off the stove, wincing slightly when he burned the tip of his finger on the scalding metal. He decided to leave it for now, so that the water wouldn't get cold while Rose was in the shower, and went back to the couch, wondering what to do with himself while Rose showered.

He opted to turn on the telly, grinning when he saw that EastEnders was on. He wasn't a fan himself, but he recalled Rose telling him she sometimes watched it, and decided to leave it, settling comfortably to wait for her.

Progress for our favourite pair! Remember to read and review, let me know what you thought! I hope everyone had safe and happy holidays!