Rather die in your arms than die lonesome. Rather die hard than die hollow. The higher that I climb, the deeper I fall down. I'm running out of time, so let's dance while we're waiting. We will live longer than I will. We will be better than I was. We can cross rivers with our will. We can be better than I can. So dance while you can, dance cause you must. Love out of lust. Dance while you can. – Lykke Li, Love Out of Lust.

The bed was cold without him in it. Rose rolled over, her body instinctively searching for heat, her arm reaching out for him. When all her fingers discovered was cool mattress, cognition began to dawn on her sleepy brain, and she sat up, blinking bleary eyes.

"Doctor?" she whispered, scanning the dark room. There was silence and she ran a hand through her disheveled hair trying to think back. He had been in bed with her, of that she was certain. Danny had walked them to this room, ushering them inside and wiggling his eyebrows suggestively so that she rolled her eyes and shut the door in his smug face.

"Sharing tonight then?" She'd asked the Doctor brightly, feeling deeply relieved. She had been to so many new worlds with the Doctor, filled with creatures intimidating in sheer size as well as lack of conscience, but this trip, this impossible planet, nestled snugly against a black hole, it sparked panic within her, the wiry crackles of terror tingling from her lungs all the way into the tips of her fingers and toes. Ida had warned them that the simple sight of it could make a person go mad, and Rose had scoffed at the idea, but as she stood staring into the swirling depths, feeling the ghost of a tug at her body, the beckoning tentacles of nothingness reaching for her, she had felt the urge to scream or cry, scratch her eyes out to protect herself. It was fleeting, that feeling of uncontrolled hysteria, but she had torn her eyes away with a thundering heart. And when she looked over at the Doctor, mouth slightly agape and eyes focused, she had felt a twinge of fear for him. He was enthralled, hints of revulsion, horror, fascination and…was that lust? Flickering across his features. The crew didn't notice. They thought he was stoic and unaffected, but she knew him better than she knew herself sometimes, could read him, his thoughts and emotions, in a half-millimeter of movement, the flick of a wrist, and when he had looked at her, his pupils enlarged and black, she saw that churn of darkness within him that he fought so hard to keep at bay. She had taken a step forward and touched his cheek, unafraid of him but rather for him, and he had blinked and returned to her. She had known then, although she didn't understand the physics of things, the science behind why this was so impossible, she had felt that there was something seriously and dangerously wrong here.

"I'm the brains and you're the heart," he often told her. Jackie had sputtered in self-righteous fury hearing that the first time, believing him to be insulting her only child's intelligence. But Rose knew what he meant. Maybe she wouldn't have a couple of years ago, but now she was confident that she was clever, knew that the Doctor was proud of her sharp mind.

"It's alright, Mum," she'd soothed that day. Because what he meant was he was the one with the brain that never paused, never rested. He saw things that no one else did, could figure out the mystery in a situation by thinking it through in the span of time it took most people to recall their phone number. His mouth followed his brain's lead, constantly prattling off facts and logic at an inhumanly pace. And Rose would nod and smile at him, and she would feel what was going on. She could connect with others, no matter the species, and empathize with them, talk with them at their level in a way that the Doctor could not.

"Brains and heart," she whispered then, as they stood in that foreign console room, and he'd smiled and nuzzled against her palm, both of them ignoring the exchange of looks from the crew.

So, when Danny had given them a single room to share for the night, her relief was palpable.

"Only if you promise not to kick this time," he'd said, showing all his teeth in a grin, and she knew it was for her benefit, that he was trying to reassure her, that he could read her just as much as she him.

"Oi," she'd made a face at him. "Only reason that happened is because you stole all the blankets. Mind your manners this time."

Although they had separate rooms on the TARDIS, they shared rooms often when they stayed on planets. It was convenient, seeing as how there were often people trying to kill them or they were forced to make speedy getaways in the middle of the night. Also, people generally assumed they were together, and they didn't correct them. She had the first few times with this incarnation, sputtering and blushing and explaining that 'no, no but we're just friends,' while he watched her in bemusement. Then, it just became easier to say nothing, and anyway, she wasn't sure there was a label for what they were to each other.

"Small bed," she'd commented, collapsing on it with a sigh, "uncomfortable too." The mattress was hard and unyielding with scratchy sheets and two thin pillows. He'd been standing by the window, looking out and although it was out of her line of vision, she could picture what he was seeing, the overwhelming void, taunting and enticing.

"Doctor," she'd murmured, and when he didn't answer, didn't even acknowledge hearing her, her voice took on the slightest twinge of concern. "Doctor?"

He'd turned then and she'd smiled. "Come to bed."

He had come right away, obedient as a child, and stretched out beside her, hands behind his head, staring blankly at the ceiling. He hardly ever slept, but usually just lay still and thought while she rested, and so she'd felt contented. His body was cooler than hers but somehow always warmed her and God, she wasn't sure she could have withstood this night alone. She'd turned away from him onto her side, curling into herself, purposely looking away from the window, unnerved, even in her sleep, to face the black hole.

She must have fallen asleep rather quickly, near death experiences and feelings of entrapment tended to tucker her out, and now as she awoke in the middle of the night, the Doctor was nowhere to be found. She stretched and switched on the lamp and somehow the soft glow it cast, with its eerie illumination of half-objects and nourishment of shadows, scared her more than her blindness had. She shivered and rubbed her upper arms.

"Doctor," she whispered again and, 'shit,' her voice was trembling.

"I'm here, Rose." By the window, and no wonder she hadn't seen him before, he was fused so fully with the gloom that for a moment she had to squint to see if he was facing her or not. No, his back was to her, watching the blackness collapse in on itself.

She swung her legs out from under the covers and padded over to him in her bare feet. Without a word, she drew the curtains back, shielding them from the outdoor lights of the station, yet somehow brightening the room. He looked down at her, and once again she felt a pang at how hooded his eyes were. She took his hand, cool almost to the point of being icy, and he let her lead him back to the bed. She sat cross-legged in the middle and he settled up against the headboard, his face troubled.

"You can't do this to yourself," she said.

"It's impossible, us being here. What's holding us?" His hands lay one at each side and he was so calm and still she had the impulse to shake him, unearth his usual spirit. Instead, she nudged his leg playfully.

"Scared of not knowing everything?"

He blinked. "There's loads I don't know and I love that, it's why I keep traveling, what excites me. But, but…the rules of science breaking down, being untrue, that…yeah that does scare me."

"Why?"

There was a long pause and she wondered if she should ask the question again. His eyes were far away and unfocused.

"Because nothing makes sense in life does it? People are cruel and bad guys win and people that you love, they, they leave. They die. And it's not fair and there's no order to it." Rose rolled onto her stomach and rested her chin on his chest, her head rising and falling with his breaths, watching his face closely.

"It comforts me," he continued. "That science offers hard data and explanations and equations that always add up. If all that crumbles, then what will be left? What will I have?"

"Me," she said softly, and, without thought, she strained up to brush a faint kiss against his jaw. He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing beside her, and looked at her intensely, his expression unreadable. "You'll always have me."

"Promise?" She smiled at his childish question but he remained solemn, eyes never straying from hers.

"I promise," she whispered and lifted her hand to trace the crease between his brow, down to the side of his cheek.

"Are you scared?" he asked suddenly.

"Yes."

"I won't let anything happen to you."

"I know," she said and shifted, snuggling against his chest with an arm slung over him. "And right now, here with you, I feel safe." His arms came around her then, pulling her closer.

"With the rate that they're going, tomorrow they'll finish drilling."

"What does that mean?"

"We'll get some answers."

The rumble of his voice rippled across her skin and she breathed in his familiar scent, feeling comforted on this strange, strange planet. "Is that good?"

"It's always good to gain knowledge."

He sounded more like himself and she smiled against his suit jacket. The room was silent for a few minutes. "We'll be alright, yeah?" Her voice echoed in the hush. "We'll get through this?"

His right hand had been stroking her hair absently, and his fingers stilled for a brief moment before resuming their task. "Of course." And he sounded so confident and firm that the tension she hadn't realized her body had been holding drained.

"I'm not scared anymore," she murmured sleepily and let herself be lulled away by his breathing. He lay awake all night and held her.

"Oh God, oh God, oh God!" Danny's panicked blubbering spurred her on faster, her hands slapping on the cold steel and her knees, rubbed raw from the friction of crawling, beginning to leak droplets of scarlet. "Go Rose!" He wailed and she scrambled to the door, pounding on it frantically.

"Open the door!" She didn't want to look back, didn't want to see the Ood's faces, their red eyes and gleaming skulls, but the metal of the door shone their reflections into her face and she squeezed her eyes shut against their approaching forms. She could hear them now, their grunts and the clatter of their hands and knees against the floor.

Finally, the door swooped open and she shot through with Danny at her heels, his hands at her thighs and butt, pushing her forward. The vent was small and for a brief moment she had a flash of panic and claustrophobia, but she forced herself to keep crawling, blood pounding in her ears.

She and Danny rounded a corner, the metal groaning under their weight, and another door loomed in front of them, seeming an impossible distance away. Rose gritted her teeth and drove herself faster, keeping her eyes focused on her destination.

"Open the door," she panted when they arrived, but there was no movement of the hatch and no response. "Captain!" She shouted. "We're here open the door!" She slammed her fist against the impasse in frustration. "Captain?" She looked at Danny, his eyes wide and bloodshot with threatening tears. "He's not there. He can't hear us."

"No!" He shoved alongside her and beat at the door, smashing at it with his fists and shoulder, contorting himself to kick at it distraughtly. His efforts were fruitless and he collapsed, his energy spent, and began to sob.

Rose wanted to comfort him, wanted to tell him it was going to be okay. She racked her brain for an impulsive plan, anything, something to motivate him, to allow her to take charge and save the day like she had on the ship. But the tunnel was airtight, the titanium too strong, and she could hear the distinct sounds of the Ood as they advanced. She slumped with her back against the door and waited.

She thought of her mother, so far away in both space and time, and wondered what she was doing this very minute. Making a cup of tea, she imagined, with her friend from next door, laughing about the latest man she was seeing. Jackie would never know, Rose realized, would never find out what happened to her daughter, she'd just keep waiting and Rose would never return. She'd be all alone now, without her husband, her daughter, or even Mickey. Everyone left her. Rose swallowed thickly and sent Jackie a wave of love, hoping that although she was far away and although she hadn't shown it like she should, that her mother would feel her daughter's affection.

Danny had stopped crying, his head buried in his knees, and his silence was almost more than Rose could bear. The echo of the approaching Ood was thunderous. They would be on them in seconds. She was going to die here.

Rose thought then of the Doctor, wherever he was. She hoped that he would escape from the pit, knew in her heart that he would. She could accept her own death as long as he lived, it was so much more important that he survive. The world needed him; she needed him to keep going, to represent that hope and goodness that was fading in so many places. She wondered if he'd know what happened to her or if he'd look for her and have to speculate.

She rested the back of her head against the door, and whispered, "Please," aloud, although she wasn't exactly sure what she was asking for: for the Doctor to be saved, for her to be saved, to be back home in her mother's arms. The oncoming force was imminent. She closed her eyes and pictured the Doctor's face, wanting him to be the last image she would see.

"The valiant child," the voice was deep and cracked, possessed, and she recognized it in her gut. Her eyes flew open. It was the Devil.

Rose screamed. Real, true horror erupted from her and the door behind her, the portal on which she had place all her weight, opened and she tumbled backwards into space. Her scream continued as she realized her folly, saw that this door did not lead her to the next passage, to safety, instead it ushered in her demise, tossing her into open space.

"Rose!" Danny grabbed her ankle, held her back, but her upper body dangled in the darkness, her breath sucked away so she could no longer even have a voice. "I've got you!" He yelled, but Rose knew, knew that the Devil was right behind him, knew that both their time was limited.

Suddenly, a flash of orange, and she turned her head, almost weeping in relief. It was the Doctor. The Doctor. Still in his jumpsuit, navigating the open space, reaching for her. She couldn't see his face due to his helmet, but she smiled at him, understanding that he was here to save her.

He sailed up to her, close, so close her outstretched fingers could almost reach his. She bit her lip and strained closer, and her mouth dropped open in a silent howl as she got a look at him, saw that inside the suit he was no longer the Doctor at all, but a skeleton, his eyes, his beautiful, warm eyes, now bottomless sockets, just like the black hole, deadly, pulling her in. And then he grabbed her and pulled her into space, dragging them both, twisting and spinning, into the black hole. And Rose knew now that this is how she would die and she wished only for some air in her lungs so she could scream.

She woke up panting, tangled in sheets. It was dark all around her and she whipped her head from side to side, trying to gain her bearings. Lights clicked on around her and she blinked at the familiar surroundings: The TARDIS, in her room. She was safe.

"Thanks," she breathed aloud to the ship, knowing that the TARDIS had witnessed her fear and taken the initiative to light up the space. Rose dragged a hand through her hair, pulling the damp strands from her forehead and neck, shivering as the sweat cooled. She placed a hand over her racing heart, trying to calm it, memory informing her that she was no longer on that planet, that she and the Doctor were both safe and in bed, under his orders that they both needed rest after their ordeal. She was unsure how long she had been sleeping, but she knew without a doubt that her rest for the night was over.

If the Doctor noticed the dark circles under her eyes the next day he didn't comment, but he kept them floating aimlessly through the vortex and she was glad, her mind a tangled debris. Although there was no real linear time in the space they occupied, Rose knew when it was time for sleep, and after hours of pretending to read, she told the Doctor good night as cheerfully as she could muster. He watched her go but said nothing and she forced herself to climb under her blankets.

She sat up with the lights on, knees to her chest, arms encircling herself in a desperate hug, and witnessed every movement out of the corner of her eye. After each flutter, she told herself she was imagining it, her muscles building more and more tension until she was sure she would snap. Then, there, her closet door: was that more open now than it had been a second ago? An ache was building in her back and she felt her lungs closing, her pants of breath stuttering from her lips. Clenching her eyes shut, she counted to ten, telling herself that when she opened them the closet door would not have moved, everything would be the same and she would go to sleep. Ten. Something brushed her arm and she was up and out of her bed like a rocket, ripping the door open, and running to the console room, skidding and tripping in her socks.

The Doctor looked up from his book, peering at her over his thick rims.

"Are you alight?" He asked, his voice a mixture of incredulity and concern at her wild appearance.

She nodded. "No."

He walked her back to her room and she kept her eyes cast down in embarrassment. He was just going to tuck her in and leave her like she's a child, which, she reasoned, was fitting since she felt sullen like a child. He was very good at tucking in; fluffing her pillows and adjusting her blankets so that she felt cozy and warm but not trapped.

"Thanks," she muttered, although she really wanted to ask him to leave the lights on as he left. "Don't know what's wrong with me."

"Well," he said, and his voice was not unkind. "We did both just almost get killed by a mysterious creature resembling the Devil."

"Yeah," she attempted a smile, grateful that he was acknowledging the trauma they had withstood. "Thanks."

"You're welcome." He smiled cheerfully back and crawled to lie beside her. She blinked as he snuggled in, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and tucking her against his chest. And suddenly she was okay. And she slept.

The next night he was just as willing and gentle and she didn't feel so ridiculous for asking. By the third night he was expecting her and as she curled against him, his fingers splayed across her arm and his heartbeats comforting in her ear, she wondered if she would ever be able to sleep without him again.