No one, nothing, nothing, no one could make me feel the way I'm feeling

"You will find what you are looking for this week," the Doctor reads. "A difficult situation will be made easy. Avoid shellfish."
Rose smothers a laugh and sets down her spoon. "Avoid shellfish?"
"That's a very specific horoscope," he agrees, tossing the newspaper down and buttering some toast. "But very wise. There are all sorts of shellfish that can make you ill. The fifth moon of the planet Sec has shellfish that can kill a man after one swallow."
They're having breakfast together before work, a comforting ritual that Rose has never grown tired of. Both in their pajamas, watching the news or reading the paper or just talking. It's very cozy and very human, and she relishes every chance they have to be normal. They are normal and human, both of them, but their lives tend to be complicated. Rose is amused by herself at moments like this. She used to be the girl who wanted adventures. Now all she wants is to sit home with the man she loves and do what other normal couples do.
Rose watches him over the edge of her mug. His hair is standing up on end. He's wearing the shirt he slept in last night and there is a small cut by his eye, a souvenir of yesterday's hunt for an alien that was really a drug thief. "Sounds more like the writer is having a hard time making up predictions."
"It's an uncertain field sometimes," he admits, peering at the top of the page. "But I'm sure Janet Jupiter is up to the task."
Rose doesn't hide her laughter this time. "Janet Jupiter?"
"Oi, it's a fine name." But he grins at her, his dimple appearing as he shares the joke with her. "Could've been Polly Pluto."
"Or Sally Saturn," she agrees.
"I met a Sally Sparrow once," he says, remembering. "I doubt she was into horoscopes, though."
"Well, then, I like her already. Where'd you meet her?"
"1969."
"What were you doing in 1969? And when? And who with?"
"I was sent back by predators called the Weeping Angels. We were caught unawares, you might say."
"Who's we? You and Donna?" Rose is taking a slight risk by speaking the name, but enough time has passed that he's been able to accept Donna's probable fate. He won't speak about it, not yet, not even to her, but references like this are usually safe for her to bring up.
"No, Martha was with me."
Rose nods thoughtfully. She knows all about Martha Jones, and she doesn't feel jealous that Martha was able to travel with the Doctor while she was stuck here. Martha and Donna kept him sane while they were separated, and she doesn't take that sort of thing lightly. She knows only too well what could have been his fate. She's seen his possible fate so many times on so many different worlds. She will always be grateful to Martha Jones and Donna Noble.
"Where does Sally Sparrow come into this?"
"She gave me a package that I then arranged to get to her that she later gave to me to give to her so she could solve the problem."
Rose considers this seriously. "That almost makes sense."
He finishes explaining the Weeping Angels phenomenon as they shower and get dressed for work. As he works gel through his hair his hands get more animated, explaining the process that the creatures used to capture people and send them into the past.
"Benign in that aspect, but you have to start over."
Rose pauses in the act of choosing a pair of trousers to wear, tries to imagine having to start over in the past. "What did you do while you were in 1969?"
"Tried to get back, of course. Wasn't too difficult, once I met up with the right people."
She can imagine that, can picture him marshaling his forces and working out some improbable solution that would get him back home even without the TARDIS.
"What did Martha do? She couldn't go work in a hospital, could she?" Rose chooses black trousers and picks out a pair of boots to go with them.
"No, she didn't have the right credentials. She went to work in a shop."
Rose smiles. "Did she?" Not that she's ever felt intimidated by Martha Jones, the woman who walked the Earth for a whole year to save everyone from the Master. The woman with a medical degree. The woman who met Shakespeare.
All right, sometimes she does feel a bit intimidated. But the Doctor clearly wanted her most of all, and Martha was never more than a companion for him. Rose can feel sympathy for Martha for that, and she did indeed like the woman when they met.
"She wasn't all that great at it," he admits. "Hated waiting on people and being spoken down to. It was hard for her. I couldn't work, though. I had to do everything else." He puts on a dress shirt and slowly buttons the front. "I used to think that you'd be so much better in 1969," he says softly, forcing Rose to listen hard to make out his words. "You would have gone to work and not complained and done whatever we needed to get us home."
A heart can break more than once, Rose knows. She walks over to him and puts her arms around him.
"You found me now," she says into his chest.
He hugs her tightly. She smells like flowers and rain and sunshine. "I did," he says into her hair. "I did. That's the most brilliant thing I've ever done."
"No," she corrects him, raising her head to look him in the eye. "The most brilliant thing you've ever done is being human and staying with me."
"That wasn't hard to do," he disagrees. "It was the only thing I wanted."
"Me too." She hugs him back. "That's all I ever wanted, too."
oOoOo
"So all we know is that this is of alien origin," the Doctor says. "But I have no way of learning anything else right now. It's very frustrating."
Anna nods, sipping a mug of tea at her desk. "I didn't find anything new, either. Haven't you got some friends at a university round here we could send it to?"
"I do," he agrees. "But we try to keep the whole alien phenomenon on a low profile."
"Not that it's not a fine Torchwood policy," she counters, "but most of the world already knows about aliens, what with the Cybermen and all."
"I know, but Pete was pretty clear on that this morning." He's still a bit annoyed with Pete Tyler, actually. A call or two to his university contacts would have helped out his investigation. Pete had refused, not wanting outside involvement.
Anna walks over to the table where he's set down the piece of rock. She bends down to look at it up close and almost skewers his eye with a metal stick that's poking up from her hair.
"Hey! What is that?"
"What's what?" Anna glances around the room.
"That! In your hair."
"Oh, this?" Anna pulls the metal stick - two of them, actually - out of her bun and holds them up. He takes an uneasy step back.
"They're knitting needles," she tells him. "See?"
"You make sweaters and things with those, don't you? With yarn. Why are they in your hair?"
"I'm teaching a knitting class tonight," she tells him enthusiastically. "I didn't want to lose them - they're my favorite pair."
"Oh." Now that he's not in danger of losing an eye he can get back to work. "All right, then. So long as my eye's not in danger."
"I was going to ask Rose if she wants to come."
"To a knitting class?" He loves Rose dearly, of course, but she's not exactly the knitting type.
"Riley's coming. And some of the girls from upstairs."
"What, the office drones?" That's what the Torchwood field agents affectionately call anyone who's not a Torchwood field agent.
"Yeah. Let Rose know about it, okay? After work in the cafeteria. They're keeping it open late for me."
"Really? Knitting?" Rose considers this as she eats her mid-morning yogurt at her desk.
That she is considering it at all surprises him. "Do you want to learn to knit?"
"I don't know. Never had the chance before." She licks her spoon, causing him to momentarily lose track of the conversation. "Maybe I will."
"Will what?"
"Learn to knit."
He blinks, forcing his train of thought back to the conversational topic at hand. "Yes, knitting. Right."
The more Rose thinks about it, the more she warms to the idea. "I could make Tony a little sweater. Make you a scarf."
He smiles suddenly. "I had a nice scarf once," he tells her. "Nice and long. I miss it."
She tilts her head. "What about the one we bought when we went shopping? Right after we came back."
"That's a nice scarf," he says, "but one you make would be better."
She smiles at him.
oOoOo
They spend the afternoon with Jake. With no live action to track, they're going over case files and status reports, making sure paperwork is in order. Simon's team joins them in the conference room they've taken over for the day.
"Although why paperwork needs to be in order, I can't tell," Simon says, tossing the Doctor another file. "I don't think anyone reads them after we write them."
"They go somewhere," Jake disagrees.
"Yeah, they go somewhere. But where? Is there a library somewhere with big filing cabinets?"
"A database would be better," Rose says. "Easier to track."
"I've never heard of one," Riley says interestedly.
"Well, don't put it in the suggestion box," Simon warns, "or you'll end up heading it up."
"No, the drones will do that," Ian reminds him. "All those IT men with their pens in their pockets and glasses."
A slight silence follows this statement. The Doctor has just put his glasses on, and although there are no pens on his person there is the beginning of a sonic screwdriver sticking out of his pocket.
"I have no pens on my person," the Doctor says sternly. "And I am hardly a drone."
"More like an exotic pet," Riley agrees.
He squints at her. "What?"
"Moving on," Jake says hastily.
"What do you mean, 'an exotic pet'?"
"A llama," Riley says, deadpan.
"Or a giant lizard," Ian suggests from the doorway.
"A Komodo dragon?" Rose asks.
She's greeted by blank stares.
"What's a Komodo dragon?" Simon finally asks.
Rose and the Doctor exchange a glance.
"Oh, that's right," Riley says cheerfully. "Something else we haven't got on this world. Quite all right. Ian, did you bring snacks?"
"Doughnuts."
"Excellent."
They whip through all the reports and stack the folders neatly in a box to be taken upstairs. Ian volunteers for this task, and the others get ready to leave.
"I'm staying," Rose reminds the Doctor. "Gonna see what knitting's all about."
"Shall I wait for you?" he asks, but Riley gently shoves him out of the way.
"We don't need you," she tells him. "Go blow something up. Or go home and rewire the toaster. We'll see you later."
Rose glances over her shoulder. "Don't rewire the toaster," she says urgently.
"Have fun!" the Doctor says, making no promises regarding toasters.
An hour later Rose is sorely regretting her decision. Anna is making loops and strings with her needles and some yarn. All around her women from Torchwood are trying their hand at knitting with varying degrees of success. Even Riley has managed to knit a row that Anna approves of.
No matter how hard she tries, Rose's needles will not cooperate. When she sees Sheila from Human Resources triumphantly hold up a small section of knitted and purled yard, Rose has to resist the urge to throw her needles. Sheila is partially blind in one eye and has glasses as thick as Coke bottles. Or she would, if this world had bottles of Coca-Cola instead of funny plastic tubes.
Rose unravels the mess in her lap and determinedly starts again. Thankfully, her phone rings and she jumps up.
"I'll see you later," she tells Riley, and heads to the door before Anna can stop her.
The caller hung up without leaving a message. She doesn't recognize the number, and figures it doesn't matter. She goes home, sticking her needles and yarn into a potted plant in the reception area on the way out.
oOoOo
"How was the class?" the Doctor asks when she gets home. He's at the kitchen table, scrolling through something on his laptop.
"Good," she says brightly. "It was very good."
"What'd you learn?"
"Oh, how to knit. And purl. And stuff," she says vaguely. "Are you hungry?"
"Mmm hmm."
"Did you cook?"
"Uh uh."
"What are you doing?" she finally asks.
He turns the laptop so she can see the screen. "There were some odd readings over at the astronomy lab last year. Shooting stars that shouldn't have been shooting, things like that."
Rose peers at the screen but can't make much out of it. "Do we have that data over at Torchwood?"
"I don't think so. I haven't seen it before. Plus," and he points out the date on the header of the information, "this would have been around the time you were working with the Dimension Cannon."
"Yeah, we were a bit busy back then," she agrees.
She goes to the bedroom to change her clothes, and the Doctor sneaks a glance at her as she leaves. Was that a note of regret in her voice just then? Regret that the Dimension Cannon did work? Or regret that it didn't work the way she meant it to? Or was it simply a comment?
He stops that train of thought and rubs his eyes with his hands. Blimey, but this being jealous of yourself is hard to put up with.
"How's the TARDIS?" Rose asks when she's back in the kitchen. She's changed into sweats and a t-shirt and put her hair up in a ponytail. She looks almost as young as the day they met.
"Good," he says absently. "On schedule."
"I was thinking about the house," she says, sitting down across from him. "We ought to find an estate agent."
"Okay," he agrees.
She can't resist. "You'll have to get a mortgage," she teases.
The first time she said those words to him, on that impossible planet orbiting that impossible black hole, he'd felt panic. Right below the panic was a slow kind of temptation, a recognition that it was something that he wanted very much. He'd forced it aside that day, and had forced it aside many times before that and after. Here was his chance to make up for all of that.
"I'm ready," he assures her. "Ready and willing. Ready and able. Ready, set, go. Ready steady. Ready-"
"I'm ready, too," she says. "Let me call my mum."
"Your mum? What for?" he asks, slightly suspicious. They usually have Sunday dinner at Pete and Jackie's, and frequently stop by during the week to say hello and to see little Tony. Today is Thursday, and it's late enough that Tony will be in bed by now.
"About an estate agent. If she doesn't know one, Dad will."
"We could probably find our own."
"Yeah, but this way we'll get someone good."
He grins at her. "Rose Tyler, are you using the family name for your own personal gain?"
"Maybe," she says shiftily.
He shrugs. "Have at it."
Rose is on the phone with her mum for a rather long time, even for the two of them. The Doctor makes spaghetti, eats his portion, and is watching a movie by the time Rose comes out of the bedroom.
"Where'd you go?" he demands in annoyance. "Dinner's gone all cold."
"Sorry. Mum had a lot to fill me in on."
"Like what?"
"Oh, Tony and her friends and bridge club and what happened at some company dinner for Vitex last night." Rose fixes a plate for herself and goes back to sit next to him.
"Is that all?"
"And..."
"And what?" he demands. "I knew it. It's always something with your mother."
"No, love, calm down. It's just...Dad thinks that I should be involved at Vitex."
He stares at her. "Pete wants you to work at Vitex?"
"No, not like that. I'm staying put at Torchwood. I like aliens better than health drinks, you know."
"Glad to hear it."
"He wants me to sit on the board of directors."
"Oh, that's nice. You get to run the show."
"Help run the show. It's a lot of responsibility, though," Rose says, voicing the concern she didn't say to her mother. "I don't know anything about business. They'll just treat me like the little rich girl."
"They do that now," he feels obligated to remind her. "In a nice way, but that's how they see you. It's not a bad thing," he adds hastily.
Rose nods slowly. "I know. I want to help Pete. He's been so good to me. I feel like I owe him something."
"It'll be fun. You'll be fine."
"Thanks."
Rose east her dinner without really tasting any of it. She puts her plate in the kitchen sink and returns to find him watching the tv.
"I think we're in a routine," she says, settling next to him. He puts his arm around her and holds her close. "Is that bad?"
"Well, we run all day chasing aliens and alien tech. We need to relax at night. But maybe we could do something else sometimes." He thinks for a moment. "Do you want to go ice skating?
"You know what I mean."
"Are you bored with me?" he asks her.
"No! No, I'm not." She finds the courage to say what she's thinking. "Are you bored with me? I know my life isn't all danger and excitement, and there's my family now, and we can't go traveling anywhere for a while, and now I want to -"
"Rose," he interrupts. "Rose." He says her name so softly, so tenderly, that she wants to cry.
"Yes, Doctor?"
"I am the complete, total, absolute opposite of bored with you. I'm having so much fun, just getting to wake up beside you and go to sleep beside you and hear you tell me that you love me."
"Yeah?" she asks mistily.
"Yeah. And that was a hint, by the way."
"Oh, sorry. I love you."
"I love you, too. We've had far more of our share of danger and excitement. I reckon we ought to take our quiet moments where we can."
"Me too." She snuggles up against his side, taking his hand in hers. "What are we watching?"
"It's called Supernova. It's about a small town in Scotland - or maybe it's Ireland - that's on the verge of being obliterated by an imploding star."
"Oh," she says doubtfully. "It sounds exciting. You still on the science - fiction kick, then?"
"This one's not bad. Here, it's almost over." He turns the volume back up and they watch as the citizens of the Scottish - or Irish - town put together a device designed to wipe out the coming disaster while preserving the Earth. They emerge victorious, of course, and the closing credits begin over images of crazed townspeople dancing for joy against a burning sky. The credits end and fade to a black screen. Under a logo of a movie camera are the words "Sam Lively Productions".
"That was weird," Rose states. "Sorry."
He's still staring at the screen. "That device... the device they built...it was a Jaffi'ra device. It can absorb explosions without destroying its surroundings. Humans don't have the technology to ward off a supernova event yet, of course, but that was pretty accurate."
"Was it?" Rose isn't all that interested, but she's trying to be polite. Star Wars this movie was not.
"Almost...almost bizarrely accurate."
"Amazing," Rose agrees.
"Incredibly accurate."
Rose stands up. "I'm gonna take a shower." She leaves him staring at the tv screen with a fixed expression. Not for the first time, she wonders and worries about the long-term effects that might arise form a genetic meta-crisis.
On her way to the bathroom she stops to peek in on the baby TARDIS. It looks the same as before, to her untrained eye.
"Don't grow up too fast," she tells it.