"Do you ever clean up in here?" Rose asked, hands on her hips.

The Doctor looked up guiltily. He was sitting at his desk, with bits of wire and metal scattered all over it, obviously deep in working on something. Still, that was no excuse for the total disaster that was his room.

"It looks as though a tornado has hit this place!" Rose said, disgusted. She picked up a shirt, gingerly. "This is gross, Doctor,"

"Rooooose!" he whined. "I'm busy!"

"I'm not coming in this room ever again, if you don't clean it up now," Rose said, setting her ultimatum before him. The Doctor looked torn.

"Maybe then you could leave me in peace," he groused, but he got up, and began to pick things up off the floor. He stacked several books onto a shelf, then sat down on the bed, as if that effort had tired him out.

"You're not done, Mister," Rose said firmly. "Honestly, what did you do when you travelled by yourself in the TARDIS?"

"She did the tidying up," he muttered.

He stooped down and picked up the blue suit jacket that he had come to this universe with. He turned it sideways to fold it, and several objects fell out of his pocket.

"Now this is interesting," he said, picking one up.

"What's all that?" Rose asked, coming to sit beside him. She was surprised to feel the Doctor slide just a little bit farther away from her, so that they weren't touching. He placed the pile of things in between them, almost like a buffer.

"I think all these things fell out of my pocket. Come to think of it, this is the jacket I grabbed from the TARDIS, after I grew out of the hand. I was naked then. Donna was quite horrified."

"She's a lucky girl," Rose murmured.

Something akin to a shudder ran through the Doctor. He cleared his throat rather loudly.

"I have a suspicion," he said, "that this suit, like the others I had on the TARDIS, has dimensionally transcendental pockets."

"Meaning?" Rose asked, raiding her eyebrow.

"Meaning, my dear Rose, that they are bigger on the inside."

"You've got TARDIS pockets?" Rose asked, giggling.

"Yuuuuup! Now, let's see what's in here," The Doctor reached his hand into the pockets and began to pull things up.

"Hmmm… marble. Couple of Roman coins. Rather wilted stick of celery…"

"What's that?" Rose asked, pointing to a crumpled paper bag. The Doctor peered inside dubiously. Then, his face brightened into a huge smile.

"Oh! Jelly babies! I used to love these! There's one left," he popped it into his mouth.

"Ewwww!" Rose scrunched up her face. "That is disgusting! Who knows how long it's been in there!"

The Doctor tossed the paper bag aside, and checked the other pocket.

"Bits of sprockets and wires – hmmm… better save that one – tiniest little blasting cap, care of my friend Ace. Didn't know I still had that."

Rose picked up several bits of paper. One had a very long formula crammed onto it in small spidery writing. The Doctor seized it, looking pleased.

"The Anhult formula! I've been thinking about this! I was working on it before Martha came on board."

He stashed that away on his desk under a growing number of papers, all with the same cramped, spidery writing all over them.

Rose moved onto the next paper. It was folded many times, and when she unfolded it the paper was deeply creased. She was surprised to see her own face, sketched roughly.

"What's this?" she asked, passing it to the Doctor. A particular look came over his face.

"I… drew this," he said, caressing the paper tenderly.

"Why?" Rose asked.

"When you were gone… I didn't have a picture of you. So I drew you. Every spare piece of paper I had, I sketched your face, so I would remember it."

Rose placed her hand over the Doctor's comfortingly.

"I'm here now," she said, smiling.

The Doctor pulled his hand away suddenly, leaving Rose feeling confused and a little hurt.

"What else have we got in here?" he asked, overly cheerfully.

"Lint. Lint. More paper. Pen. Tea bag. Shell. String. Pen knife." The Doctor listed all the things, handing them to Rose. He stopped suddenly, holding an object with both hands, wonderingly.

"What is it?" Rose asked, craning her neck to look at it.

The Doctor held it in both hands, reverently.

"Do you know what this is, Rose?" he breathed, holding it out for her to see.

"A piece of coral? Like what you get at the seaside, it looks like," she answered, unconcerned.

"This isn't just a piece of coral. It's TARDIS coral." The Doctor stared at it as if he was afraid it would vanish if he took his eyes from it.

"What's TARDIS coral?" Rose asked.

"You remember I told you once that TARDISes were grown, not made? This is what they are grown out of. The branch-things in the control room? TARDIS coral. It was always falling off when it got banged into, and I was always picking it up. I must have put this in my pocket, and forgotten to take it out. TARDIS coral! Just imagine, we could grow our own TARDIS!"

Rose frowned.

"How long does it take to grow a TARDIS?" she asked.

"About a hundred years, if it's in the right conditions, and carefully tended. Fully grown maybe twice or triple that, but you can use a young TARDIS for time travel, if not space."

"Doctor…" Rose said hesitantly. "We haven't got a hundred years. You've only got one life, and it's only going to be about eighty years long,"

"Oh. Right." The Doctor's face fell. Then, it brightened up. "But it can be a legacy. For our children. Their own TARDIS."

"What does it need to grow?" she asked, peering at the coral. It just looked brown and shriveled and full of holes to her.

"Right now? Water, and lots of it. In a few years it will need some biethotoline, a compound that is very rare on Earth, but I think I can get at work, if I'm careful. Then it needs to be planted in the ground, get regular watering, and it will grow." His eyes lit up and sparkled, as Rose hardly ever saw them do now.

She suddenly smiled.

"Let's go get it some water!" she said.

--

Rose was worried. Though the Doctor seemed to be enjoying work now, and was always in the company of Max Davenport, the weird genius kid, at home he seemed withdrawn and unusually quiet. Every time she was in the room, he found a reason to leave it. It was almost as if he was avoiding her.

She found him sitting sideways in a comfortable arm chair, his feet slung over one arm, a cushion at his back. His dark-rimmed glasses were shoved on his nose as he read.

"Into Dad's books already?" she teased, coming towards him.

"This one's quite good, actually," he said, looking up. " 'Margaret's Successor: the Life and Times of Harriet Jones'." His smile invited her to share in his amusement.

"Brave Harriet. She was marvelous in the end, wasn't she?"

A shadow passed over the Doctor's face.

"Yes, she was. She had three terms of office here. Did you know that?"

"Yeah. I was here for the last one," Rose answered. "She made a pretty good Prime Minister, actually. Bit heavy handed, but she was running a country left in tatters by the Cybermen." Rose perched on the edge of the Doctor's chair, and absently ran her fingers through his hair as she read over his shoulder.

The Doctor leaped up as if he had been burned by her.

"I think I might take a bit of a nap, actually. These eyes are getting tired from all the reading. Human weaknesses- still not getting used to them!" as he talked he edged out of the room. "A lot of great men took naps. Napoleon for instance, and Winston Churchill. Well, got to dash!" and he fled the room.

Rose sank back into his now-vacant chair and wanted to cry. He shrank from her touch and avoided her company. There was only one explanation: he was no longer in love with her. A dull ache formed in her chest and her heart constricted painfully. She hid her face in her hands, and blinked fiercely to stop tears from coming.

This is ridiculous! She decided after a long moment of self pity. I didn't search for two years for a way to get him back only to find him and have this happen. There was probably some stupid reason that he was doing this, she decided. Maybe he thought she deserved better or something equally as daft. Or maybe, a small voice whispered menacingly, he really didn't love her any more, and couldn't think how to tell her. He was, after all, a different man now.

With a sniff, Rose got up, and went in search of him. He couldn't avoid her forever, and not talking would be postponing the inevitable if he really didn't want her.

She knocked determinedly on his door.

"Doctor? I know you're in there. I'm coming in," she said, opening the door.

The Doctor was sitting dully on the edge of his bed, staring into space.

"Rose? What are you doing here?" he asked, his voice betraying his weariness.

Rose closed the door behind her. She knew that the best way to do things with the Doctor was the most straightforward way. Otherwise, he would talk circles around you and you would never get to the point. She pulled off her ring from her finger, and held it out.

"Do you want this back or not?" she asked.

The Doctor blinked.

"Want it back? Why would I want it back? It's yours,"

"Do you want to break off the engagement?" she persisted.

A look of horror crossed the Doctor's face.

"Break off the engagement? Of course not! Why… why would I want to do that?"

"Then why are you avoiding me?" Rose demanded. "Why do you shrink away every time I touch you? Am I really that repulsive to you?"

"Rose! No! How could you think that!" The Doctor asked, shocked. "You're the most beautiful woman in this or any universe. And trust me, I know."

"Then why don't you want me?" Rose asked in a small voice, sitting beside him on the edge of the bed.

The Doctor ran his hand through his hair, making it stick up even more on end.

"Want you? Rasillion, Rose. It's wanting you that's the problem."

"What?" she said, confused.

The Doctor got up, and began to pace

"Ever since I became human, I've had these… feelings. Every time you are near me, my head spins and my heart pounds. Every time you touch me, it's like I'm on fire. It's getting worse all the time, and I don't know what to do about it. I've never had to deal with this kind of thing before!"

"Aren't Time Lords attracted to people?" Rose asked.

"Of course we are. But it's different. It's not so physical, so raw and primal. It's more intellectual fascination. I… don't know what to do, so I thought if I stayed away from you, I could figure it out. But instead I just made a mess of things."

"You… you love me then?" Rose clarified.

"Of course I do! I don't think I could stop even if I wanted to!" the Doctor said. He turned to her. "What am I supposed to do?"

Rose nearly laughed, but stopped herself just in time. It would hurt his feelings.

"The trouble is all these human hormones. I'm not used to them. It's like they all invaded my body with a rush and suddenly, I can't even handle being near you without wanting to…" he ran a hand through his hair again.

"Doctor, the solution is so simple. You want me? Take me."

The Doctor's eyes grew wide.

"Oh no, I couldn't do that," he said.

"Why not?"

"Because…" he sputtered. "It's… it's different with Time Lords. It's not just physical bonding that takes place. It's mental and spiritual bonding as well. We would literally become one person. It's far more intense than human intimacy. And I don't want to force you into anything."

"You're not forcing me," Rose said firmly. "I'm ready."

"But by Time Lord standards, we would be… that is to say… we would be married," the Doctor said hesitantly.

Rose held up her hand, which once again had the Doctor's sparkling Moon Diamond on it.

"We're getting married by human standards as well. I fail to see your problem."

"Oh Rose," he gently caressed her cheek. "You are the most amazing woman in the universe. Has anyone ever told you that?"

"Once or twice," she said, smiling.

"Well you deserve to be told it every single day for the rest of your life," the Doctor replied. His lips hovered over hers. At the last moment, he pulled away.

"Are you sure?" he asked, worried.

Rose's response was to grab him by the collar and kiss him, to make sure he knew just how sure she was.

"Let's try out that solution," the Doctor said breathlessly.

Author's Note: I feel like I've dispatched two requests in one go. Someone asked for more references to old companions and Doctors, which I've tried to give in the pockets scene. And continuing with the theme of rampant human emotions that the Doctor doesn't understand.

If anyone is interested in the title of Harriet Jones's biography, the Margaret referenced is Margaret Thatcher, a famous British woman Prime Minister. I would imagine that the English Press were calling Harriet Margaret's Legacy when she was in office, for her stern leadership during the Cyberman crisis.

I really like the idea of dimensionally transcendental pockets. Come on, don't you think that every one of the Doctor's suits had lots of room for his various bits of stuff? He strikes me as a really absent minded sort of person that collects things without even thinking of it. And a piece of TARDIS coral… well why not? I read somewhere that the Time Lord Doctor was supposed to give the Human Doctor a piece of coral on the show, but they cut it out. So in this, he gets one anyways.