AN: Doctor Who and all recognizable characters are the sole property of BBC. I have simply taken them out to play with them. No copyright infringement intended.

Finding His Reason

by WhisperingWolf

Chapter 2

The Unquiet Dead

They had saved people. She had gotten to meet Charles Dickens, and step into the late nineteenth century. She had met a servant girl who had saved the world from a species of alien that had appeared to everyone as ghosts. She had been with The Doctor, he had kept her safe. She was safe, she reminded herself. She was on board the TARDIS; she was back to a place that she had come to think of as home. She was safe, she told herself again as she tried to fight away the delayed panic that seemed intent on rising now that everything was over and done.

Reaching up for the strips of soft cloth that tied the shawl around her shoulders she was reminded of when and why she had lost it, and she closed her eyes as she tried to push back the memory of being drugged and kidnapped. She had become skilled at pushing dark memories away, but this one was too fresh and she couldn't make it silent. Chloroform. She had known the scent of it and the after effect that was felt once she woke. Jimmy had used chloroform.

"Stop it," she whispered to herself, fisting her trembling hands in front of her, and took in a series of deep breaths as she focused on the memory of Gwyneth. "You're fine," she whispered, never noticing the man behind her.

He stood behind her with a discerning frown as he stared at her back. His eyes narrowed as he crossed his arms over his chest. That was twice now that he had called her name, and she hadn't heard him either time. She had been happy and fine once they had come back to the TARDIS, she hadn't let on once that any of it had bothered her, but he knew that he would be a fool to think it hadn't. She was human, she was young, and this wasn't the first time that she had nearly died, but it had been the closest she had come to it.

He called to her again as he uncrossed his arms and stepped up behind her, but still she didn't respond. Lifting his hand, he touched her shoulder and took a step back when she spun around with wide eyes. She was going to try and hide the fear in her gaze, he could see that clearly, but she had every right to be afraid. He didn't say anything as he reached out and pulled her into his arms. Words had no place here, and if his nine hundred years had taught him anything, it was to know when silence was best. She stiffened in his arms even as he felt her hands fist in his jumper, and then she relaxed against him.

Breathing in deeply, The Doctor wrapped his arms tighter around Rose, holding her closer as he felt her fists tighten in his clothing. Her body was relaxed, but her hands weren't, and he had a nagging suspicion that she was trying not to show how truly frightened she had been. She was brave, his Rose. She had told off that old man for drugging and kidnapping her, something he had found endlessly amusing to witness and then she had stood up to him in defense of Gwyneth. She had argued with him, fought with him, and as annoyed as it had made him, he had loved it as well. Rose balanced him, reminded him not to forget himself. She reminded him of why he fought, and what it was that he was fighting for.

"Why don't you get changed while I make us a nice cup of tea," he told her as he rubbed her back between her shoulders, her skin warm and velvety soft beneath his fingers. "Meet me in the library once you're done."

"There's a library?" Rose asked when he pulled back from their embrace, missing his arms around her immediately.

"Yeah." He nodded and gave her a smile. "TARDIS will show ya the way. Just listen for her proddin' you about. May only feel like a nudge, or such to you."

"Can she talk?" Rose asked, and watched as he nodded with a grin.

"Well, to me she can. Don't know that anyone else has ever been able to hear her," The Doctor told her with a sideways tilt of his head, a kind of shrug that she had grown used to.

She nodded quietly and turned around. He watched her for a moment, her silence worrying him, but understood that she may simply need time to adjust to all that had happened. Turning his head to look back at the door behind him, he moved to walk away when her voice stopped him. Looking back and meeting her gaze as she looked at him over her shoulder, he watched her blush as she asked him to help her with the uppermost hooks on the back of her dress. His lips parted as though he meant to say something, but he remained quiet as he looked at her, and nodded once before stepping up behind her.

Rose turned her head back around to face in front of her when she felt his strong cool fingers dip into the back of her dress, her tongue peeking out to wet her suddenly dry lips as she stood quietly. She didn't dare look at him lest he see the truth in her eyes, and bit her lip as the first hook came free. The Doctor closed his eyes tightly as he released the first hook, stilling before he began to undo the second. He was a master of meditation, able to control his body's impulses, or focus his mind on a particular task until there was nothing else. It had been centuries since he had last allowed himself to even feel aroused. He had never once had a problem controlling that particular matter of his biology before, but now he did.

They both gasped as he undid the third hook, the indrawn breaths silent and neither aware of the other's growing tension. He came to the fourth when she stopped him, her voice breathless, and in some manner choked as she told him that she could handle it from there. He nodded without speaking as he turned and left the room, leaving her alone to change. It didn't take him long to find the kitchen and when he did, he found that the TARDIS already had a pot of water heating on the stove. Bracing his hands on the counter's edge, he closed his eyes and focused on his respiratory and central nervous systems.

It didn't take him more than a moment to force the arousal down, to steady his hormones and become calm once more. Time Lords must not succumb to the carnal urges of the lesser species, he recited the tenants of his people in his mind. Cultural teachings aside, he was a fool if he thought she would be interested in him in such a manner. What with his daft old face and big ears. Taking the tin from the back of the counter, he added the dried leaves to the porcelain tea pot and poured the boiling water over it before putting on the lid. He waited as the tea steeped, gathering mugs from the cupboard and adding the cream and sugar as they each preferred. Pouring the tea into the mugs, he carried them with him into the library and waited for Rose to appear as he sat on the couch.

He looked up when she walked in, her clothes once more her own, and called her name when she failed to notice him. He gave a quiet chuckle when she commented on the size of the ship and nodded with a wide grin. The TARDIS was quite huge and there were many places she had yet to discover. He met her smile with one of his own, and offered her the seat next to him as she stepped further into the room. He handed her the mug of tea he'd prepared for her when she sat down, and watched as she wrapped her hands tightly around the mug.

"Cold?" he asked as he watched her cradle the mug.

"A bit," Rose nodded, and took in a deep breath.

"Come here," he said, and lifted his arm, a crooked smile tipping his lips when she tucked herself against his side without question. "I know I may not feel warm to you, but . . . "

"No," she denied his worries, and closed her eyes as she breathed in his scent. "You feel plenty warm." Or at least I feel much warmer when you hold me, she thought as she turned and leaned against his chest. "What've you got there?" she asked, nodding toward the large book by his tea.

"Charles Dickens!" The Doctor cheered as he lifted the book and set it on his knee. "You didn't know who he was, did you?" he asked her half-teasing and half-curious.

"I wasn't really thinking about him at the time," Rose said defensively, and heard him chuckle. "Everyone knows of Marley's ghost, don't they?"

"Course they do," he agreed easily. "You were fantastic. Never even occurred to you to try and run away to save your own life, did it?"

"Why would I?" she asked him with a half smile of confusion. "It wasn't just me in there, besides that I wasn't gonna leave you to fight them on your own."

"Rose Tyler," he spoke her name, and grinned. "Fancy a story?" he asked her, and lifted the book from his knee.

"I've seen you read," she told him with a laugh. "You flip through the book and then you're all done before I'd have time to read one sentence!"

"Thought I might read to you," he told her with a teasing smile.

"Yeah?" she asked with wonder, and smiled as she snuggled against his side. "Alright then, get to it."

He chuckled as he opened the book and she laughed when he turned to his favorite short story. Rolling her eyes as she teased him for reading her a scary story before bed, she felt a surge of warmth infuse her being when he tightened his arm around her and promised to protect her. Did he know the effect that had on her, she wondered. The way he held her, and swore to keep her safe from her dreams, it set off sparks of heat between her heart and other realms she dare not think about. Mickey had been the only one she'd ever slept with aside from . . . she turned her head down, her cheek still resting against The Doctor's chest, and pushed thoughts of Jimmy aside as much as she could. If The Doctor ever knew the truth, if anyone ever knew the truth about Jimmy . . .

"Rose?"

She turned her head up at the sound of his voice, her lips parting as though she meant to speak when he slid his hand against her face, and cupped her cheek in his palm. She met his blue eyes, the concern in them silencing her, and for the first time in years felt absolutely safe as though nothing could ever harm her so long as she was with him. Kissing her brow as he chaffed the pad of his thumb slowly over the curve of her cheek, he looked upon her with worry. She had gotten lost on him again, something in her own thoughts was troubling her, and he didn't know if it had to do with the events of the night or not. Was she thinking about Gwyneth, or something else?

"Just tired," Rose said softly, and though he knew that she was in some manner lying, he let it pass without question.

"Well, here," he said as kept his arm around her, and shifted their positions. "Let's try this then," he told her, and laid back on the couch, her head pillowed on his chest. "You can just fall asleep if you like. Don't need to worry about a thing. I'll just keep reading."

"Yeah?" she asked him, and gave him a curious pout when he covered her with a blanket. "That wasn't there a minute ago."

"Gift of the TARDIS," he told her as he tucked the cloth around her. "She can sense when you need something, and will sometimes make those things appear for you."

"Like the mugs in the kitchen?" she asked, and watched him nod.

"Just like," he told her, and opened the book once more. "Close your eyes, Rose Tyler," he told her softly before beginning to read aloud once more.

She pressed closer to him, resting her arm across his stomach as he began to read aloud and sighed softly with content. The blanket kept her warm as did The Doctor, though the two things couldn't be compared. He warmed her from the inside out, making her feel safe, making her feel special while the blanket simply held in her own natural body heat. She had nearly died with him that night, but she knew beyond the shadow of any doubt that she wouldn't have traded tonight for the world. She loved being with him, no matter the danger, no matter the distance from home. Being with him was worth all of it and so much more.

He turned the page of the book as he read to her, feeling the steady thrum of her heartbeat against his side and turned his head to look at her face. Her eyes were closed, the hint of a smile on her face making her look peaceful. Closing the book as he set it aside on the table, he wrapped both of his arms around her and held her close. He had always hated stillness, never wanting to remain in one place for too long, but for some reason he didn't seem to mind it as much in that moment. He didn't need to sleep, there were still at least three days before his body would require him to do so, but still he found himself closing his eyes.

He never transitioned from being awake to sleeping. He simply remained lying next to her, his arms around her, as he held her with his eyes closed. He knew that he needed to meditate. His control had slipped twice tonight alone, and he couldn't let it happen again. She was like fire, his Rose, beautiful and dangerous all at once. He had turned away after first seeing her in the dress, having felt his mouth water when he had stared at her. The skin of his palms had felt electrified with the desire to touch her, to see if her skin was as soft as it looked. He had nearly lost his control for a second time when she had asked for his help undoing the hooks on the dress, and the feel of her skin beneath his hands had sent a cascade of hormones through his veins. He'd never found it so hard to control his own impulses before, but around Rose it felt that almost every moment was a fight to restrain himself in the face of his desires. Who was she to have such power over him?

Her scent and heat surrounded him, his body responding to it as though it were a siren's call, and he bit the inside of his cheek to steady himself. He held her as he began to recite the tenants of his people, the Gallifreyan words falling from his lips in a steady repetition. She pressed closer to him each time he repeated the third meditation – "Love and passion are emotions which must never be entertained by a Time Lord. These are the follies of the lesser species". He knew that she was asleep, knew that Gallifreyan wouldn't be translated for her by the TARDIS, but swore that she somehow understood. It was as though she were denying him, telling him that it was wrong, that he should allow his heart to be open.

He fell silent when the sound of her heartbeat called his attention. The rhythm was increasing at an unsteady rate. At first, it was only a few beats more per minute, making him believe that she was slowly waking, but then the tempo increased tenfold. His eyes snapped open as he turned his full attention on her, and looked down into her sleeping face, finding her brows pulled together in a deep frown. He called to her when she whimpered, caught her hand when she beat her fist against his chest, and promised her that she was safe. He could feel her trembling, the scent of her blood changing as adrenaline flooded her veins.

Some part of Rose knew that she was dreaming, that she was safe in The Doctor's arms. But there was a greater part of her that couldn't tell the difference between the shifting images of her dream that felt real, and what actually was real. The scent of chloroform invaded her senses, chasing away her last rational thought, and she fought against the person holding her from behind as she tried not to succumb to the drug. The more she struggled against the person holding her, the tighter she felt herself being restrained until she was mad with the fear. She was ready to scream, to bite, or claw, or whatever else was needed when it came to her like a whisper, and she stilled as she reached for the sound.

"Rose," The Doctor spoke her name as he held her still, doing what he could to keep her from hurting herself or him. "Rose, I'm right here with you. We're on board the TARDIS. You're safe, Rose. I promise you, you're safe."

"Doctor?" she whimpered as she called out to him, her eyes closed as she lay in his arms still trapped between the waking world, and her nightmare.

"I'm right here, Rose," he told her as he looked down into her sleeping face, her fear and desperation gripping his twin hearts in an icy hold. "Just open your eyes. That's all you have to do. Just open your eyes, Rose."

"I can't find you," she whimpered, tears of desperation and fear slipping from the corners of her tightly closed eyes.

"Oh, Rose," he mourned her name as he dropped his head, and closed his eyes. "I'm so sorry, Rose. I never meant for you to be in that kind of danger." He lifted his head and looked down at her, his blue eyes full of doubt and blame as he cursed himself for being the cause of her nightmares. "Please wake up for me, Rose," he pleaded with her, and pressed his lips to her forehead.

She could feel water on her face, water surrounding her as one nightmarish memory blended into another, and she wished for nothing more than to escape. The zombies were gone, the nineteenth century dress was gone, and in its place she was left in a dingy hotel room where she was being pressed down beneath the surface of cool bathwater. Her lungs were burning, her sight growing dim and she renewed her struggles, her desperation fueling her attempts to break free. Each time that she felt certain she would die; she would feel a gentle pressure against her mouth before air was forced into her lungs. She knew she would die, there was no way out. It was happening again, and just the same as so many years ago, she knew she that there was no way to escape.

"I'm so sorry," The Doctor apologized as he looked down on Rose, her lips parted. "Forgive me, Rose," he whispered seconds before his hand connected with her cheek.

Her reaction was immediate, her eyes snapping open as she choked and gasped for air. The Doctor caught her easily when she tried to bolt from the couch, holding her to his chest as he sat them both upright, and spoke to her softly. Her eyes flooded with tears, her hand going to her throat as the air around her became impossible to breathe. She knew she was having a panic attack, knew the familiar feel of it and cursed herself for being so weak in front of The Doctor. He moved her back, his hands cupping her face as he tipped her head up, and looked into her wide frightened eyes.

His voice was steady and calm as he spoke to her, telling her to look at him, to focus on him. Tears slipped down her cheeks as she tried desperately to calm herself. She had never wanted him to see her like this, never wanted anyone to see her like this. It felt as though it took forever before she was able to breathe normally again, her panic finally leaving her until she was nothing more than an exhausted bundle of overwrought nerves. Part of her expected The Doctor to take her home, believing that he would tell her wasn't strong enough to travel with him anymore, but instead of saying anything at all, he wrapped her in his arms, and held her tightly.

"I'm here, Rose. I've got you," he promised her fervently as he stroked her hair. "I'm sorry, Rose. We made it out, but . . . "

"Not your fault," she interrupted him, her voice weak. "St-stupid dream," she said as she felt her exhaustion growing.

"You've gone and exhausted yourself," he told her, and heard her soft breathless chuckle. "Go to sleep now, Rose. I've got you."

She whimpered softly as she turned her face into the curve of his throat, closing her eyes as she breathed in deeply of his scent. He rubbed her back as he felt the soft brush of her lashes against his skin, and seconds later, he heard a soft sigh escape her as she returned to sleep. He had been around long enough to know that her reactions weren't normal, and whatever had changed her nightmare in the end wasn't what had happened last night. The sounds she had made, the way she had stopped breathing, and he had been left with no choice but to breathe for her. Whatever that was, it was deeper and older than the events with the Gelf.

He stood from the couch with her cradled in his arms and carried her out of the library. An hour ago, he had been considering leaving her to sleep in the library while he returned to the console room. But after her nightmare, and everything that followed, there was no way he would leave her alone. His lips tipped up in a fleeting sad smile when he found his bedroom to be the next room down the hall, and knew that the TARDIS had moved it for him. Nodding once as he thanked his ship telepathically, he walked in through the open door, hearing the soft click as the TARDIS closed the door behind him.

There was no thought, no hesitation, or second guessing himself as he carried Rose to his bed, and pulled the thick blankets back before he laid her down in it. Leaning her up as he lowered the zipper and removed her jumper, he tucked her beneath the blankets. Her blonde hair spilled over his pillow, and he watched as she rolled onto her side, whimpering softly in her sleep as she reached out her arm across the bed. He touched her cheek to calm her, tucked her hair behind her ear, and smiled softly as he watched her grasp one of his pillows to hug it to her chest. He would take her back to the library in a few hours, once she'd had enough time to sleep peacefully, and recover from her nightmare and the resulting panic attack, but for now he wanted her to sleep comfortably.

It didn't escape his notice that she was the first person he had ever allowed into his bedroom, his inner sanctum inside the TARDIS. Nor, did he fail to take notice that he had brought her inside and laid her in his bed without Rose ever having asked to see something so personal to him. There had been other companions before her. There had been times when those he had traveled with before her had become frightened, or had their sleep disturbed, but she was the first one he had held, the first one he had ever allowed to sleep in his arms, or his bed. His brow furrowed as he watched her sleep, and wondered once more what it was that made Rose Tyler so different from anyone else. What made him feel the need to have her with him?

She sighed in her sleep, whimpering his name as she rolled onto her back, and he gave a soft amused breath as he watched her sleep. Who was this girl that fought so fearlessly by his side? How had she gotten so deep under his skin when none of his other companions had? Standing from the bed, he moved to his closet and withdrew a set of jimjams deciding that if he was going to watch over her while she slept in his bed, then the least he could do was be comfortable while he kept his vigil. It didn't take him long to change, and he slipped under the blankets carefully so as not to disturb her, only to roll his eyes when she tucked herself immediately against his side without waking.

"Rose Tyler." He spoke her name as he wrapped his arm around her and held her close to his side, his hand resting on her waist.

"Doctor," she mumbled, sighing in her sleep.

"I'll keep you safe, Rose," he promised her softly, feeling more open with her while she slept, knowing that she'd have no memory of it.

She woke slowly, her throat feeling somehow dry, and her head aching. She could remember falling asleep in The Doctor's arms, his deep voice lulling her to sleep with words written by Charles Dickens, but there wasn't much else after that. She was still in his arms now she found, his hand stroking down over her hair when she groaned. He didn't say anything, didn't act as though he had anywhere to be, or try to move her just so that he was no longer being used as her pillow. Instead, he simply lay half underneath her on the couch in the library with a book in his hand that he was quietly reading, content to hold her for as long as she would let him.

Tipping her head up as she left her cheek pillowed on his chest, she turned her eyes to his face, and watched him as he read. He didn't seem to mind her observation of him, didn't take his eyes off the book for more than a half glance with a smile of greeting, and she wondered what had his attention so focused. Turning her eyes onto the book, she frowned as she looked at the symbols that seemed to be written in circles with different geometric shapes inside of them. The TARDIS translated alien languages for her all the time. She'd been able to read the strange writing on the observation deck when they'd watched the Earth burn and die as the sun expanded, but she couldn't read the symbols on his book.

"It's Gallifreyan," he told her when he caught her studying the book. "It's the one language the TARDIS won't translate."

"Gallifreyan?" Rose repeated the word as she tried to determine why it sounded familiar to her.

"My people, my language," he told her as they sat up together, and smiled at her efforts to casually check for wet spots on his leather coat. "You didn't drool on me if that's what you're looking for."

Rose blushed and bit her bottom lip as she laughed silently. "Think you're so smart, don't you?" she teased him with a wide smile.

"I know I am," he told her with a nod, and delighted in her laugh. "I'll make us some tea if you want to change. You can have a shower, too if you like," he offered, and saw the confusion on her face.

"Where exactly would I do that? I didn't see a shower, or anything of the like in the wardrobe room," she said, and watched as he smiled at her.

She wondered if he had any idea the kind of effect he had on her. It wasn't simply his smiles, the way he looked, or the sound of his voice. It was so much more than that. He called the human race a bunch of stupid apes, but treated her as though she was the most important thing in the universe to him. She fumbled and fought with him, at times hating herself for how daft she must sound to him, but he never once made her feel dumb for it. He asked her to run away with him, to go with him, and showed her the universe in a way that only he could. He made her feel alive and excited in a way that she never thought she ever would again. How many times had she told herself to be content with Mickey? That asking for anything else than 'comfortable' was asking for too much?

There it was, The Doctor thought as he led Rose through the long hallway. She had slipped away from him in her mind, and a touch of sadness colored her face in shadows of memory. He doubted she had even taken notice that they'd left the library much less been walking for the past few minutes. She didn't seem to remember her nightmare from last night at all, or if she did, she was unwilling to be the one to bring it up in conversation. He called to her as he came to a stop in the hall, and looked at the door in front of them.

"Not yet," he told her when she reached out for the door, and gave her a smile when she turned her head to look up at him. "It's just an empty room right now with nothing in it."

"Ok," she said curiously, and waited for him to explain.

"She'll make it for you," he told her, and nodded up in reference to the TARDIS. "Just think of a bedroom, the kind of bedroom you'd want and she'll make it."

"You're kidding yeah?" Rose asked him, and saw his lips pull up in that teasing arrogant smile that she was beginning to love.

"Nope," he teased, "just close your eyes and imagine your bedroom."

She imagined it would be easy enough for him to duplicate her bedroom back home at the Powell Estate, but couldn't remember if he'd seen it, or not. She didn't think that he had, but her bedroom back home wasn't what she wanted here. If this was to be her room then that meant that she would be traveling with him for more than just a few trips, and she wanted something more. She wanted something that reminded her of where she was, and of why this meant so very much to her. Closing her eyes as she thought of him, and thought of who she was when she was with him, she opened her eyes and reached for the door.

The TARDIS hummed softly as she felt Rose's mind reach out, and looked into the girl her Time Lord had brought on board as his new companion. She had welcomed the girl in from the first moment, able to feel something different, something special about this pink and yellow human called Rose. This human girl could have created the most spectacular room in her mind. She could easily have imagined splendor and gold, but instead she turned inward, the TARDIS noted. She didn't think about the furniture, or the colors, she didn't think about decorations, or window treatments. Instead, this human focused her mind on how she felt, on her emotions and the TARDIS fairly sang with pleasure when she heard the soft request spoken from Rose's heart.

His brows furrowed as he looked up at the TARDIS, able to feel the ship's excitement, and The Doctor was surprised once more when Rose opened the door. The walls were painted in myriad of color, deep blues and purples that reminded him of outer space. On the wall to the left, as he walked into the room, was the TARDIS painted against the back drop of the night sky, the Earth sitting below it at an angle. There were two more doors on the left wall, one he knew to be the en suite bathroom, and the other to be a private closet for Rose's day to day clothes. There was a bookshelf on the far wall, a thickly stuffed wingback chair sitting beside it and to the right of the room was the bed.

The bed was massive; Rose thought with a smile as she stepped toward it and ran her hand over the smooth duvet. The blanket was thick with stuffing and softer than anything she'd felt before. The colors weren't overly feminine nor were they masculine, but instead they seemed to be perfectly suited to the decoration of the room. She looked down at the decorative design she could almost make out on the bedspread, the blues outlining the patterns only a small fraction of a difference from the rest of the cloth. It was hard for her to distinguish, but not so for The Doctor. He could see the color difference easily, the Gallifreyan words standing out to him, and he read the ancient poem that was written across the blanket.

"To sleep among the stars, to wake in a time once gone, or a world too lost for words," he read the blanket to her, "This is the gift of a Time Lord."

Rose didn't say anything as she looked back at him, wondering what had turned him into a poet, but didn't ask either. She could barely see the outlines on the blanket, certainly not well enough to tell that they were more than doodles and had no idea that he was reading to her. He hadn't told her where he had come up with the words, or that her blanket had Gallifreyan writing on it. She listened to him laugh as she sat on the bed and fell back to lie on it, her eyes closing as a satisfied smile painted her lips. Perhaps a bit larger than a king-sized bed, she had no way of knowing that it was almost an exact duplicate of his.

"I like her," the TARDIS whispered inside The Doctor's mind.

Me too, he responded telepathically as he moved closer to Rose, and touched the blanket. He had thought it was Gallifreyan velvet and he was right. This was unlike anything she would have felt before, and he knew that she wouldn't be able to guess what the cloth was. To humans, he guessed that it would feel something like suede in texture, but closer to silk. He heard the soft happy sigh that escaped Rose, and chuckled when he found her eyes to be closed.

"You asleep again?" he asked, and heard her breathy chuckle.

"I could so easily," Rose replied as she opened her eyes, and looked at him. "It's like sleeping on a cloud."

"Remind me to take you to Kelortraxia Prime," he told her as she sat up, and he offered her his hand as she stood from the bed. "You really can sleep on the clouds there."

"Where are we off to now then?" Rose asked as she moved to the door across the room. "Blimey," she whispered in awe as she walked into the bath. "Oh, I may never leave this room," she said as she looked around.

The bath was half-sunk into the floor, the design one she didn't recognize, though it seemed to be the perfect marriage of a claw foot tub and a sunken Roman bath. It was large enough that she could stretch out completely and still be submerged in the water with no worry of spilling the bath out over the sides. In fact, she thought as she studied it, she quite certain that two people could fit inside it with no problem at all. The sink stood along the opposite wall, the design classic and simple with a mirror sitting behind it. There was enough counter space for all her cosmetics and even more, and Rose shook her head as she smiled.

"It's perfect," she said as she looked in the mirror, and found The Doctor to be standing in the open doorway. "What?" she asked when she found him to be staring.

He didn't say anything, only grinned in that teasing way of his before turning away and walking through her bedroom. He called out to her, telling her to find him in the console room once she was done. Part of him wondered if the design had been in her mind, or something the TARDIS had chosen instead, but he refused to ask. Asking Rose would only result in her curiosity, and he certainly had no intention of telling her how similar her room was to his. Other companions that he had traveled with in the past had their own rooms, but the designs that had resulted were almost Spartan in their lack of splendor. Had Rose asked for more, or had the TARDIS given her more?

The simplest of his questions only brought more questions to mind. The first of which had been nagging at him since his ship had spoken to him. Not once had the TARDIS ever commented on his other companions, but she had done so for Rose. She had told him point blank that she liked Rose, but it had been in that gentle fleeting whisper that made him almost forget what she had said nearly as soon as she had spoken. Did that mean that the TARDIS hadn't liked any of his other companions, or did it simply mean that there was something special about Rose? He frowned as he twisted the knobs and turned the dials on the controls. Asking the TARDIS for an answer to his questions had proven fruitless more than once, and he knew that she wouldn't give him an answer to such a question unless she wanted to.

"Do you enjoy being so stubborn and contrary, or is it just habit?" he asked aloud, and Rose froze behind him as she stepped out of the hall.

"Sorry?" she asked, and watched as he spun around, his blue eyes wide.

"Not you," he told her, and sighed as he gave a quick glance up. "That was quick," he said, and Rose laughed.

"Aren't you supposed to be a Time Lord?" she asked with a wide smile, as she watched him move about the console. "It's been more than an hour," she told him when he arched a brow at her.

"It's been . . . " He stopped to take notice of his mental clock and rolled his eyes. "One hour and forty minutes," he said to himself, and watched Rose grin. "Got distracted."

"Well don't blame her," Rose said as she moved up to the jump seat, and sat down as he fiddled with the controls. "I didn't have anything packed," she told him with a wide smile. "No other clothes or products, but the TARDIS had everything I would need. She's amazing, your ship."

Rose felt the soft hum at the back of her mind and watched as The Doctor stilled and looked at her. He met her gaze curiously and asked her if she had requested the items of the TARDIS. Meeting him with a mix of confusion and humor, he could tell that she thought him daft for asking, and told him that the items had simply been there waiting for her. She had stepped out of the bathroom to close the door of her bedroom and when she had returned she had found a thick towel waiting for her on a small shelf next to the tub. There had been scented soaps, shampoo and conditioner waiting for her as well.

"When I was done with my bath I found these," she nodded down to the clothes she was wearing, "sitting in a neatly folded pile on the bed. Didn't have to ask, or anything. It was just there."

"Oi, that's . . . " He stopped himself from speaking, his lips pressed tightly together as he refused to finish what he had almost said.

"That's what?" Rose asked, and looked down at the dark jumper she was wearing. "What?" she asked again.

"Nothing," he said as he turned back to the controls. That was my jumper, Old Girl, he directed his thoughts to the TARDIS and felt only her humor in response. "Thought you might want to do a bit of shopping before I take you home," he told her, his back turned to her as he moved the controls. "Need to pick up a few parts for the TARDIS anyway, and there's this nice little bartering planet."

"Home?" Rose asked, and watched him turn his head to look at her.

"Thought we'd stop off for a visit. You could grab whatever you need," he told her, and watched as her expression changed to one of relief and then delight.

"A visit would be nice," she said, and watched him smile again.

He knew from the expression on her face that she had believed he meant to take her home and leave her there. A part of him had thought about taking her home last night when she had argued with him about the Gelf, but in seconds the same thought had been dismissed without question. She had only been with him a short time, not even a full week yet, but already he found himself irrevocably attached to her. To be without her, the thought of not having her by his side, was somehow terrifying and he found that he couldn't look at her, lest she see the truth of it in his eyes. He used the sarcasm to cover his emotion, and turned around to warn her not to get lost in the crowd of the marketplace when he found her already lost in her own thoughts.

It was there again, he thought, the sadness that seemed to haunt her, and he didn't understand it. What wasn't he seeing? With all of his knowledge, and all of his power as a Time Lord, and he couldn't seem to see what was bringing her such melancholy. She looked up to find him staring, and offered him a brilliant smile, her excitement showing and he shook his head as he smiled in response. It must be his imagination, he thought. He had seen so much darkness that now he was casting that upon her, he told himself, and held out his hand before stepping with her toward the door. She was simply distracted by her own thoughts, not some dark and horrible past.

He held her hand as they stepped outside the TARDIS, watching the expression on her face as she looked around at the marketplace, before turning her eyes up to the sky. He waited for her to get her fill, her eyes wide as she took everything in. The aliens of this planet looked close to humans, the exception being their hair and eyes. She'd never seen anyone with red eyes before, but the color of it wasn't frightening at all, simply different. She tried to hide her smile at their hair, the color of blue reminding her of sapphires. Blue hair and red eyes, she thought, it was as odd as it was fascinating.

"As if you're normal to us," a woman said as she passed them by, and Rose turned her eyes to The Doctor.

"Telepathic species," he said as he met her gaze. "They're not terribly strong with those outside of their own species. If you think of a wall surrounding your mind it should be enough to block them." She nodded only once, her grip on his hand tightening, and he rubbed his thumb over her knuckles. "Scared?" he teased her, and watched as she shook her head. "Don't wander too far. Stay close to the TARDIS," he told her as he released her hand, and watched her eyes widen in response.

"Where are you off to then?" she asked him, her tone a bit sharper than she had intended.

"Nothin' to worry about," he told her with a smile. "The place I'm going for the parts isn't too friendly to humans is all. This is a bartering society, like I told you. You won't need money if you want to purchase something, but they may ask for something of yours in exchange, or for you to do something."

"Doctor," she looked at him, before looking around at the market and nodding to herself. "I'll be fine."

"'Course you will," he told her with a smile. "I won't be long."

Rose laughed and shook her head as she watched him walk away. He was a Time Lord who had no concept of time, or so she told herself. She turned toward one of the stalls, not seeing The Doctor look back at her, his blue eyes full of emotions that could never be spoken. How many of his companions had he kissed before, he thought as he watched Rose converse with one of the aliens. How many had he kissed right after meeting them without a thought, or care in the world? He couldn't kiss her though; he couldn't even come close to it. Not with her, not with Rose. He knew without a single doubt, that if he were ever to kiss Rose Tyler, he'd never be able to walk away from her. A single kiss would be his undoing.