Author's Note: This is a quick update, I know - I've got three essays to write in the next month, so, basically, I've been getting this chapter out of my system so that I can get on with some work! I hope you all enjoy it - the characters hijacked the plot, it was never going to go this way! Please tell me if you think I should whip them next time they try it, or let them carry on...

--

Chapter Four: I wake in vain

It didn't surprise her when she woke alone the next morning, not even remotely, but she could not help the feeling of disappointment that made her sigh into his pillow. The bed was cold where he had lain, and Rose shivered as images of the previous night forced their way to her attention. Finding herself unable to stay, she moved noiselessly back into her room, showering and hoping that the hot water could at least wash some of the worry away.

He was secretive. He had always been secretive, save for the odd small lapse. Initially it had irritated her, but now it concerned her. Deeply. If he was having night terrors, the best way to expel them was to talk about what he feared. Easier said than done. If she approached him, even silently, he would know exactly what she was going to say, and would hide himself behind barricades of wit and jabber about different races he had met. There was also the I-can't-hear-you trick, an infuriating trait he had taken up quite recently. Was it a man-thing? Or was it a Doctor-thing? Mickey – love him - tried to be an enigma, seeing the dark-and-brooding type as being his masculine calling, but he failed miserably with every girlish yelp and each complaining whine. He was, inadvertently, the most open man Rose had ever encountered.

The Doctor, however, bottled everything up as though he felt the universe would shatter under the weight of his secrets. If Rose so much as mentioned anything concerning his past, his eyes would darken briefly, and he would look at her as though she had drawn a dagger on him, and then the walls would be thrown up, and that would be it.

But whatever played on his mind at the moment was giving him nightmares, and it was no longer a simple case of: "No, it doesn't matter", or: "I'm fine." She would not accept that as his answer and let him hide the reasons from her. It mattered more to Rose than finding out what the formless beast was that had slain the lioness and attacked them. It mattered more to her than seeing the universe, even. Something was hurting him. She could not bear to see him hurt…

Rose decided, as she clambered out of the shower, that making him talk was the best solution. Perhaps not forcefully – she regretted pushing him into going to bed the previous night, considering what had followed – but definitely with persistence, accompanied by a mug of tea, two heaped sugars, just as he liked it…

She decided on wearing blue, emerging into the kitchen some twenty minutes later in a blue shirt and jeans, her hair in a tight plait. "'Mornin'," she yawned artificially in an attempt to give off an air of drowsiness - if he was under the illusion she was still half asleep, then perhaps he would keep the guard down a bit longer.

"'Morning, Rose!" His voice was chipper, but he would not quite meet her eye as he leaned casually back into the work surface, munching a piece of toast without a plate. Evidently, Rose was not the only one trying to pass off illusions. She feigned not noticing, all part of the still being asleep ploy, and put the kettle on. "Cuppa?"

"Please."

She busied herself with the mugs. "We need more milk," she observed, swishing the low contents of the bottle for his attention so that he would have to look at her.

"Oh – I'll whack it on the list later."

Silence dominated between them, punctuated by the chinking of mugs and crunching of toast crust. Awkwardness crept between them, each having the same thing on their mind, and each having a completely different idea of how to address it – the Doctor's idea of how to address it, of course, was to not address it at all. He knew Rose wanted to 'have a word', and did not trust her apparent sleepiness one iota.

The tea made, Rose placed both mugs on the breakfast counter before relative stools. A direct invitation to sit, and one that he could not politely refuse. Damn. "Which one's me?"

"Green."

The Doctor parked himself unceremoniously into his seat, making sure to keep an air about him that suggested he was there for tea only and was soon to bolt off. He knew it would not work, but he had to have a go anyway. The tea scolded his tongue, but he continued to drink, inspecting the lowering level of liquid between sips.

"Doctor -"

"- Did I ever take you to Balsis Six? Brilliant little planet, Balsis Six, run completely by-"

"Don't. Please, just don't."

He shifted, raising his eyes to her for a long moment. Her eyes were soft, nowhere near the stern expression he wanted to see. It broke his resolve down a little.

"Last night -" the Doctor visibly flinched "- wasn't just a one-off, was it?"

He sagged down a little in his seat. The sleep he had managed to get the night before had hardly lifted the weariness from his face. He looked as though he felt ill, actually. A sigh escaped him before he even thought to hold it back, and when he eventually lifted his eyes to her, a shadow of last night passed over them, and a dull echo of a long felt misery sounded in his single "No."

She left him to continue. He shuffled, clearly wanting nothing more than to be freed of this torture so that he could escape to a tight hole under the consol and not come out again for the rest of the day. Or a week, a week sounds good.

"I just have – bad dreams, sometimes. That's it, really." He raked a hand through his hair, wishing he could look anywhere else than her expectant eyes.

"I think we both know they're a bit more than just 'bad dreams,'" Rose toned. "Surely if you talk about what's bothering you, it would help, right? Just tell me."

He stared at her incredulously. How could he just tell her? What made it so simple, in her view, that he could simply discuss everything with her, and it would all be fine and dandy? How could he tell her of the horrors that chased him through sleep and infiltrated his waking mind like some kind of all-consuming disease? How could he tell her that he dreamed of losing her every time he slept, that he had seen her horrific death every time he tried to snatch even a couple of minutes? How could he explain to her that she was his greatest fear? "I can't."

"Why?" The smallest edge of affront wormed its way into her voice. "Don't you trust me?"

That stung. The Doctor stiffened, anger raising its gnarled head at the accusation he heard in her tone. How could she say that to him after everything they went through on Krop Tor, after he entrusted the survival of the universe to her? "Of course I – Rose, how can you say that to me? How can you even think that?"

"Because you don't talk to me!" Her own voice raised, upset from the way he fenced her out and the events of the previous night combining and choosing to manifest itself in anger. "You're too bloody stubborn to let anyone in! All this time we've been together, and you've never let me in, not once! I can't understand why you can't just tell me what's the matter!"

"Because I can't!" He stood and began to pace in aggravation. The tiredness, the sharp thudding in his head, the cut of her words, all boiled over in his temper and erupted from him like a flash flood. "Why won't you listen to me when I tell you I can't do it? I'm not trying to keep you out, Rose, I'm trying to protect you! You're just like your wittering bloody mother! Stop nagging me, you stupid ape, and leave me alone!"

Silence.

He didn't mean it. His face smoothed as soon as he realised what he had said, his hearts skipping in his mouth.

The hurt in her eyes was only visible for a moment, because she took up their mugs and crossed quite sedately to the sink, tipping the now cold tea away.

"Rose…"

"It's fine." Her voice was clipped, barely controlled against the burning tears he saw briefly gathering in her eyes.

"No, Rose – oh, I'm sorry…"

"Just -" she kept her back to him as she pressed a hand over her mouth to still the sob. "Just leave it. That's what you want, anyway, so let's do that, shall we?"

Without another word, Rose left the room, leaving the Doctor alone, just as he said he wanted. The Doctor sank into one of the chairs and hid his face behind his hands. Nothing of what had been flung so callously from his mouth was either true or what he really thought. She helped him in ways that he could never describe. It was because of Rose that he was sat where he was now and not lying dead at the base of the console. Taking the past months out on her was neither fair nor justifiable. Shame prised its way in to nestle at the heart of the other emotions struggling to take hold. Needless to say, Shame won.

He sat back, staring unseeingly at the ceiling, thinking. "You've never let me in, not once!" Was he really that bad? He couldn't be that bad, surely. Rose is a human, he reasoned with himself, trying to rationalise his behaviour. A silly, emotional little human who thinks … who thinks … The Doctor sighed sadly. Rose is a wonderful, beautiful woman who thinks with her heart instead of her head, unlike you. All she wants is for you to be safe, and you've thrown it back in her face. He flinched at the thought, but allowed it all the same. It was, after all, true, and he had to acknowledge it. To treat the girl he felt so strongly for so bitterly was the ultimate cruelty.

Moments later, the Doctor stood before her door, the weight of his shame settling all the more when he heard her muffled crying. What have I done to her?

He knocked gently. "Rose? Can I come in?"

The crying stilled, but no acceptance came.

"Rose?"

There was still no response, but there wasn't exactly a spoken "no", so the Doctor edged the door open, just enough for him to round his head into her darkened room. He saw her move speedily across the bed, and realised far too late what was happening. The shoe hit him square in the face before he could fully withdraw into the safety of the corridor. He cried out in surprise, springing back from the door like an aggressive dog had just tried to savage him. From his new place sprawled against the wall of the corridor, the Doctor watched, stunned, as the door slammed him out.

"Okay," he said to himself when he had finally overcome the surprise and rubbed the bruise on his cheek, "I suppose I deserved that."

The Doctor approached the door again. "Rose, please, we need to talk."

Her silence was so complete it was as though there was no-one else in the TARDIS, never mind the room. The Doctor rubbed his forehead, scowling at the throbbing in his head as he slid his back down her door to sit with his legs crossed at its base. The cool wood soothed his head a little as he rested his temple against it. Something of the contact reminded him of the previous night … her cool hands calming him, pulling him out of the nightmare's hold with the gentlest touch … it had been the worst one yet. He was sure it would never leave his memory, in this body or his remaining three. He stayed there silently for several minutes, waiting for some kind of sign from beyond the door.

"It's funny," he told the door quietly. "I've got the whole of Time and Space at my fingertips. I can watch galaxies being born; I can see great stars die. I can go absolutely anywhere. Anywhere but home. This old TARDIS -" he ran a hand fondly down the wall "- used to be all I had … and then I met you in a basement. I was going to blow up the entire building with the Auton…" the Doctor leaned his head back against her door, a smile breaking at the memory. "But this silly little ape got in the way, and she's been getting in the way ever since…" He went quiet for a moment, listening. Still no sound from the other side of the door. Perhaps she was asleep, catching up on what he had deprived her of during the night. It was easier to talk to the door if he kept thinking she was asleep… "And I can't get enough of her." He pulled a hand through his hair, wondering vaguely that he still had so much, considering the habit, and wondering more prominently if he had the courage to confess everything to the door. "I can't imagine living without her." My hearts would break…

"And these dreams – these dreams, they're – well. I can't get away from them; I see them all the time, every day. I can't escape -" I can't escape the image of you dying. "- I look at you, and it – I …" The tightening in his throat made him look silently into the grilling, as if trying to find the answer to his torment. He tried to banish the thoughts from his mind, but they rained down on him unbidden, fogging him with the images of his nightmares. The Doctor ground angrily at his eyes with the heels of his hands, and before he could stop it, a sob rattled through his lips. He stilled, trying to compose himself.

"You chase my demons away, Rose," he eventually managed. "But I couldn't cope if they made me lose you."

The Doctor clambered to his feet, casting the door a last glance before heading for that hole he had been planning to hide under for so long.

Rose let her tears seep into the wood she leant against, wanting nothing more than to open the door and hold him. She knew now, and her heart ached for it.