It took twelve minutes of walking in a sharp clip to get to where Rose was.
The Doctor's hearts, which were previously bullied into quietness while he was sussing out the culprits of the coup, finally broke out of the cage of forced calmness upon seeing Rose.
She was half-sitting, half-lying on the cold, draughty floor, abandoned much like a puppet with its strings cut carelessly.
Mercifully, miraculously, the Doctor's highly-sensitive ears heard the subdued whooshing of the air travelling in and out of her lungs, and his 'super vision' (Rose had coined the term) registered the sluggish throbbing in her carotid artery.
Swallowing his rage and focussing on his injured companion entirely, the Doctor dropped on his knees in front Rose.
The previously suppressed rage, however, raised its head again upon seeing that Rose's hands were tied behind her back crudely with no regard to blood circulation.
The blindfold was still tied around her eyes, too, rendering her blind to who her attackers were.
Bloody bastards.
Preying on who was dearest to him, taking her away, hurting her.
"Oh, Rose," the Doctor mumbled brokenly. "You didn't go down without a fight, did you, you stubborn girl?" He walked his fingers along her neck and spine gently, with carefully-applied pressure, checking for any damage. When he found none, he let his shoulders fall down in a visible sign of relief. He then leaned Rose into his arms, hugging her to his chest loosely while trying to untie the ropes around her wrists, arranging them in her lap after freeing them. He massaged them while talking to her soothingly, coaxing her out from her unconscious state.
"Let me just check your head there, Rose, lower your head on my shoulder like that, that's a girl," the Doctor asked his companion who was still quite out of it. He carded his fingers through her hair, trying not to pull too hard at the hairstyle. He hissed in empathy when he felt a nasty bump and a few lazily bleeding scratches where the pins dug into her scalp when her head collided with the wall.
"Congratulations on earning herself an impressive goose egg, Rose," he jested good-naturedly, trying to create a lighter atmosphere to ward off the panic. He took off the blindfold slowly, revealing Rose's pale cheeks that were usually filled with pink blush of excitement.
Much to his astonishment, he had only now noticed that Rose wore not a drop of make-up on her usually thoroughly-painted face.
While Rose was still rather lovely without the usual amounts of cosmetics, her face seemed stunningly bare and vulnerable to the Doctor that moment. He felt like he was intruding on her, seeing her without make-up so close. She certainly wouldn't want that, no matter how many times he'd assure her that she looked good without it.
Rassilon forbid he'd ever use the 'beautiful' word. Oh no. That would be telling. The Doctor had enough trouble as it was to keep his infatuation with Rose hidden, and it was a miracle, or Rose's fragile self-esteem more likely, that she hadn't noticed.
Now, however, staring at the sooty black eyelashes throwing light shades on Rose's smooth but oh so pale cheeks, the Doctor wondered if he'd be able to hide his love for his precious companion any longer.
He traced the contours of her cheeks delicately, calling to her quietly. He needed her to wake up and soon, he wanted to check her up despite his sonic screwdriver's readings.
Apologising softly to Rose, the Doctor placed his fingertips on her temples and sent an awakening jolt to her mind.
Rose came to with a surprised 'oh' . She gasped loudly, still dazed and confused from the head injury and from being startled awake. The Doctor cradled her face in his palms, speaking slowly, reassuring her.
"It's me, Rose," he told her, "you hit your head something fierce on that wall, you did."
Rose continued taking loud, uneven breaths but seemed to realise that it was him holding her close even if she couldn't quite focus her eyes on his face.
"That's right, Rose, it's me. Don't you worry a moment," he allowed himself a display of unreserved affection by stroking her hair while hugging her. They sat like that for several more minutes while Rose was gathering her bearings. Then he pulled Rose away some distance and fixed his stare on her face.
"On a scale from 1 to 10, how's the pain?"
Rose brought her left hand to the bridge of her nose, frowning with an adorable pout. The Doctor chased the amorous thoughts out angrily. This was hardly the time for making his crush known. Still, he couldn't conceal a smile and an affectionate squeeze of her upper arms.
"Rose? You having trouble understanding? Can you speak?" he felt worry growing inside of him. What if the screwdriver was malfunctioning? What if Rose had something more serious than a moderate concussion?
"Eleven," Rose replied sluggishly.
He hugged her close to his chest once more, relieved at hearing her speak.
"The Tardis has exactly what you need for the pain," he promised her. "And she has your favourite tea in store for you, she does."
He made to rise, pulling Rose up with him by her waist carefully. She resisted his attempts.
"What…what happened?" she asked, perplexed.
"You don't remember?" the Doctor replied, not surprised. Short-term memory loss was nothing unusual for moderate concussions.
Rose shook her head and tilted it when her eyes fell on the glass shards and wires on the floor.
"No…," she whispered faintly.
The Doctor gave her a smile and was delighted to see Rose's lips mirror the gesture.
"It's no surprise. You've had quite a night, and the blow to the head doesn't help either," this time, he was able to help Rose stand. Keeping her close to him securely, he dropped a whisper-like kiss to her brow.
"You still saved the day, though. Haven't I told you how brilliant humans are? And you, Rose Tyler, are simply fantastic!" he declared, grinning widely.
Rose couldn't resist a warm, pleasant feeling of things falling into place despite not being able to remember what happened that night.
In the end, it took them twenty minutes to get back to the Tardis. It would have been less but Rose was stubborn initially, declaring that she could walk under her own steam.
The debilitating dizziness and the nausea that followed the incessant headache afterwards, however, convinced her to agree to the Doctor's carrying her.
Rose wished she could enjoy the experience of being held in the Doctor's arms properly, savouring every moment of it, each and every gentle squeeze of her arm and the careful touch under her knees along with each of the Doctor's heartsbeat and steady breaths.
She would be forever impressed by his seemingly never-ending alien stamina.
She'd try her best not to show it. His head was big enough as it was.
Suddenly, Rose chuckled as she imagined the Doctor's head grow bigger in size like a balloon.
The Doctor smirked and shook his head at his companion's antics. Rassilon knew what was going on in her head at that moment.
"Care to share with the class?" he asked as he turned into yet another corridor.
Rose hid her face in his jacket and mumbled:
"Can't."
"That a secret, then?" the Doctor asked, feigning sadness. "I'm injured, Rose Tyler. I thought I was your best friend!"
"You are!" she protested tiredly.
The Doctor replied with a huff and shifted her closer as he fastened his steps.
Rose didn't see a warm, slightly sad smile on his face.
They spent about three hours in the med bay with the Doctor fussing over her relentlessly. Rose would've rolled her eyes a dozen times at the Doctor's overly exaggerated worry if rolling her eyes didn't hurt so much.
Only maybe the Doctor's worry is not that exaggerated. She still felt like seven kinds of hell even by the end of a long treatment session in an MRI-like machine and after a decent dose of painkillers.
And she still couldn't remember anything after waltzing with the Doctor. Rose felt somewhat calmed and comforted by the Doctor's assurances about her part in preventing the cusp of the plot. When she scrunched her face, trying to recollect the scattered details of the night, it resulted in a new wave of a headache and cold sweat breaking on her back.
The Doctor was squatting in front of her immediately with his hands around her face, hushing her and telling her to stop thinking about it.
"Please, Rose," he murmured, the usual gruffness of his accent sweetened by overwhelming emotions he was trying to suppress. "Don't think about it now, it'll come naturally sooner or later, you just need some time to heal."
Her heart clenched painfully in her chest. To see the Doctor so vulnerable, so open in his worried state somehow managed to surrender her heart to his to a deeper degree.
"Okay," she whispered and stretched her arms out to him for a hug.
The Doctor accepted it readily, clinging to her midriff desperately with his head close to her stomach.
Rose hummed and passed a soothing hand over his close shorn hair.
It seemed like she wasn't the only person shaken by the events of the night.
The week that followed next was a testament of Rose's sanity.
The Doctor didn't allow her to sleep the first night.
It was annoying at best and torturous at worst.
She really wanted to sleep. Scratch that. She needed the sleep to stay sane and finally process the events of the past few days.
At least that's what the Doctor kept telling her usually after adventures when he was pushing her towards the 'leisure' wings of the Tardis, insisting on her having a snack and a good night's sleep. When Rose protested, he'd lecture her on how necessary it was for the humans to sleep in order to compartmentalise the hours spent awake. He'd groan and lament at her strange unwinding techniques that didn't include putting her feet up with a film, a beauty procedure or just plain old crashing from adrenaline rush washing out of her blood.
Now, however, the Doctor kept bothering her. He didn't leave her side once since she awoke in the med bay, and it's been hours.
He didn't even allow her to go to her bedroom, for heaven's sake!
Obviously, it was a standard instruction to follow with a person who'd had a concussion: not to let them sleep for the first night.
Rose could live with that, honestly.
What she couldn't deal with was the Doctor's incessant hovering.
She'd've never thought that the gruff, no-nonsense, 'everything's cool' Doctor would be the clocking hen type.
It was endearing for an hour or maybe two.
He implored her to have some food and cooked it while she changed the beautiful gown to baggy trousers and an overly large t-shirt. Surprisingly, Rose didn't feel hungry but the Doctor insisted on her eating some soup and crackers along with painkillers.
"You know, I might just get into trouble more often if you keep spoiling me like that," Rose said conversationally in-between spoonfuls.
The Doctor fixed her with a withering look.
Rose actually shrunk in onto herself, swallowing nervously.
"'Kay…maybe not," she mumbled into her bowl as the Doctor continued to steep the tea for them both.
The Doctor left her with the tea after finishing his own in record time (not before refilling her cup first) and found her in the library near the ornate fireplace.
She'd never admit how tired and dizzy she felt after such a short walking distance. Rose whispered a heartfelt 'thank you' to the Tardis and picked one of her favourite magazines up.
He snatched the magazine she was reading at that moment, ignoring her protesting cries.
"You shouldn't do anything that'd strain your vision and that rattled brain of yours," he declared, striding to the sofa and plopping on it tiredly, flicking the magazine to the side without much care.
"Oi! I was reading that! You told me no sleep and no watching telly for the next couple of days," Rose ranted, "what the hell am I supposed to do meanwhile? Sit primly and stare at one point on the wall?" she exclaimed, irritated.
Oh, she was working herself into a right snit, but he was just so…insufferable!
"Have I already told you that you act a lot like a toddler?" the Doctor quipped lazily as he took a hefty, beautifully-bound book and placed it on his lap, opening it.
Rose gaped.
"Oi! You don't get to act all high and mighty when you sleep, like, once in three months or something," Rose parried, standing up from the rug shakily, stumbling a little, trying to catch her balance.
Damn.
"Rose?"
Immediately, he was by her side. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and lead her to the sofa, sitting her and putting the sonic out. Rose batted at it half-heartedly.
"I'm alright, I promise. Just stood up too fast is all. You told me that could happen, didn't you?" Rose asked as she clasped one of the Doctor's hands in hers.
His eyes, so impossibly kind and warm for such an icy-cold shade of blue, peered back into her own searchingly, scanning her for sincerity.
Rose pursed her lips in an awkward smile and squeezed his palm. "Honestly, Doctor. I'm perfectly fine apart from being sleepy and bored, and it's not a good combination," Rose joked with a 'you see?' nod.
The Doctor's shoulders slumped. He sighed, giving up, then snatched the glossy magazine from where he threw it on the sofa minutes before. He grimaced at the cover as if seeing it was painful to him and then proceeded to flick through the pages until he stopped at the 'latest trends' section.
Rose had to suppress both her shock and the giggles that bubbled in her chest at seeing the Doctor doing something as domestic as reading a shallow fashion magazine.
Oh, she would enjoy every moment of it.
She jolted awake with a painful cry.
"What the hell are you doing?" Rose screeched when she realised that the Doctor pinched her. He actually pinched her arm!
"Sorry," the Doctor apologised, and she could see the sincerity in his posture. "You wouldn't wake up. You actually fell asleep on me, and while I was reading your chosen content no less!" he accused, his index finger pointed at her in the air.
Rose puffed her cheeks, then exhaled tiredly. She closed her eyes and passed her hands over her face.
"Ugh, I'm sorry. I just really, really want to sleep, Doctor. And then there's you being all…gruff and violent!" she huffed before pushing him in retaliation.
The Doctor didn't budge.
A bout of silence settled over them. Then Rose looked at the Doctor from the corner of her eye, and she immediately regretted her outburst.
He reminded her of a dog who was about to be kicked for showing affection to a passerby.
His eyes were painted with worry and barely-hidden fear.
It was a close call today. Not the first one for them both and certainly not their last. Still a close call, though.
Rose still didn't know the full extent of her injuries but her gut feeling was telling her that maybe it was rather serious.
Or maybe, Rose pondered, the Doctor was worried about something else.
Her face softened at seeing the Doctor's tense posture.
She shifted closer to him until they were sitting side by side with their hips touching and took his hand in hers.
"What is it, Doctor? Have I got something besides the concussion?" Rose asked. "I don't feel bad, just tired and dizzy a bit when walking…is there something else?"
Now, she felt anxiety swelling in her own soul and body, making her palms sweaty again.
The Doctor squeezed her hand with a quiet shushing sound.
"No, Rose," he soothed as he pulled her closer, throwing one arm over her shoulder. She nestled into his side, grateful for the comfort, awaiting with held breath what the Doctor would say next.
"You're fine. You'll be good as new in a week, I promise," he chuckled as Rose groaned miserably, imagining a Tardis-bound week ahead of her with the hovering Doctor near.
The Tardis chimed around them, laughing.
In a span of one moment, the Doctor's tone changed to serious.
"I'm sorry I didn't keep you safe, Rose. I'm sorry I let you go when I promised I wouldn't leave your side," he said. She opened her mouth to tell him to stop being silly, but he squeezed her hand, willing her to let him continue. "I should have noticed the people acting strange," he shook his head self-deprecatingly. "If the blindfolded balls were a usual thing, why were they all so confused by the partner switch? They just wanted to get us separated."
"But Doctor!" Rose cried, "I should have noticed that things were fishy the moment there was no secret-device-searching equipment. It was too easy, I walked straight into a trap!"
He protested, but this time it was Rose who shushed him.
"I should have realised it was a trap but I didn't, too uncollected because of everything around me," she told him, her voice small. "I'm sorry I ruined everything by getting kidnapped like some fairy tale princess."
"Rose!" she looked up, startled by the Doctor's astonished reply. "But you destroyed the remote control that would have been used on the rest of the palace's rooms, you did!" he explained vehemently, still clutching her hands in his. "That's why they got so angry and hurt you, the people who took you away."
He raised his hand up to her face and touched her cheek with his knuckles, carefully, gently, as if afraid of wounding her any further.
"Rose, you were fantastic. You managed to nip the coup in its bud with your eyes closed and your hands tied. Trimeni and the rest of the people are alive thanks to you."
The baby-blue of his eyes peered into hers with such adoration, such sincerity and openness…
What was there for Rose to do but lean to the Doctor's face and kiss him?
The kiss was a brief, butterfly-like affair that ended way too fast for Rose's liking. She pulled back reluctantly, biting her lower lip and looking at the Doctor's face from under her lashes, gauging his reaction.
He didn't reject her kiss, true, but he didn't give into it fully either.
Powder-pink-like colour flooded his cheeks. His eyes looked huge, comically so, and he was blinking rapidly, lips slightly apart in surprise.
The Doctor, Rose realised with delight, was pleasantly shocked and not at all insulted or disgusted by her reaction.
Emboldened by his non-verbal reply, Rose raised her face to look at the Doctor.
She tried her best to express how much she loved him, wanted him, respected and valued him, desired him, with her eyes. She channelled all of the pent-up adoration, attraction and wonder to show in her eyes, screaming at him mentally to please see how sincere she was, to please not reject her if he felt the same but was held back by some ancient rules, to please kiss her back if he wanted to…even if she was a mere human, a working class girl with no education and no special skills, even if she had nothing to offer to him but herself and her life.
Rose was startled by the Doctor's loud inhale that echoed in the bookshelves of the library. His eyes became wider, if it was even possible, and all of a sudden Rose was caught in the whirlwind of emotions that mirrored the Doctor's thoughts.
She was mesmerised. She was frozen like a bunny that was being stared at by a predator; she was pinned to a piece of foam like a butterfly, her wings caught under the scrupulous gaze of a scientist with a looking glass; like a huge star that paused its collapse for a long second before transforming into a black hole.
And just when Rose felt like she was about to explode and turn into stardust, she felt the Doctor's lips on hers.
She sighed blissfully, saved from demise by her true love's kiss.
The week passed on smoother after the kiss. They hadn't talked about what it meant for them both but they also didn't stop each other from stealing swift, sweet kisses here and there and savouring longer, slower ones while cuddling.
Rose had to stop herself from squealing and jumping in delight. The Doctor and her, kissing and cuddling, and it wasn't a dream, he wanted that, too!
The cuddling tended to happen more frequently in the library.
And sometimes in the Doctor's bedroom.
Oh yes.
No, not like that.
The Doctor continued to hover even after the sonic and the MRI-like machine in the med bay confirmed that it was safe for Rose to go to sleep.
His hovering, along with his piercing, worried staring, threw Rose over the edge on the fourth day of being Tardis-bound.
Oh, the Tardis. Rose could kiss the console a hundred times in thanks for the Tardis's wonderful, thoughtful care about her comfort.
There was a shower bench installed in Rose's bathroom now. Rose was surprised to find it that night after a kiss but also quite grateful because she didn't trust her balance - and the overwhelming dizziness - not to fail her while standing for too long.
Also, it kept the Doctor from lurking in her room 'just in case' .
Rose didn't know if to be annoyed or touched by his worry for her.
At the end of the first night, they had a cup of herbal tea in the galley with a light snack to go with Rose's medicine.
After that, the Doctor took Rose's hand and led her deeper into the Tardis, stopping before a door she had never seen before.
The Doctor's bedroom.
She gawped (just a little) upon entering his private space. The room was decorated tastefully, if minimally, with the walls painted dark blue, the ceiling painted white, and there was an artificial window on the opposite wall of where the king-sized bed was.
Rose didn't recognise the alien landscape projected in the window.
There was also a door that led to the en-suite and a dark wood desk with an eclectic arrangement of items scattered all over it.
The most notable ones were the old-fashioned typing machine, a rainbow slinky that was, surprisingly, not tangled, a set of quills and ink bottles, and a see-through box filled with numerous cogwheels, gears, crews and neon-coloured wires.
Rose was standing, glued to the doorway, taking all of the details in, delighted that the Doctor trusted her enough to share his most private space but also worried about botching things up somehow. What if she said or did something out of place? What if she bothered him too much, and he'd think her clingy, especially after their kiss in the library? What if…
"Stop worrying. I can almost hear your anxiety. Just…," the Doctor waved his hand in an uncertain gesture before taking her hand, "just rest for now. Get some sleep, don't think about anything. I'll be here," he assured her. His thumb was caressing the back of her hand as he gave her a warm look before ushering her to the bed.
Rose honestly wanted to bully him into reading to her some more. She wanted to ask what he'd be doing while she was sleeping. She wanted another hug.
The moment her head touched the pillow, however, Rose fell herself fading fast. The scent that she associated with the Doctor permeated the air around her, and she sighed happily before falling asleep.
She didn't witness the tender smile the Doctor gave her before tucking the blanket around her.
The routine went on. They stayed aboard the Tardis for a whole week and a half with Rose only wanting to kill the Doctor and crawl up the walls with boredom half of the time.
The other half of that time she wanted to snog his chunky boots off him.
And it had to be said that a hefty amount of time in the first three days Rose spent sleeping in odd patterns.
The Doctor assured her that it was entirely normal.
Yet he still insisted on her sleeping in his bed.
The day after returning to the Tardis, Rose threatened to go back to her room or kick him if he didn't leave her alone while sleeping. She was out of the danger, he said so himself, and she needed some privacy for heaven's sake!
If Rose felt bad about banishing the Doctor from his own room, she didn't show it.
Swimming was forbidden for now as well as running or exercising in the Tardis's advanced gym. After the third day, the Doctor approved reading and TV watching in short amounts. Rose couldn't read or watch too much anyway, the occasional headaches still spoiled the fun for her.
They played board games and cooked together. Rose would eat a whole bag of raw potatoes before teasing the Doctor about the sheer domesticity of it. They explored the Tardis's many rooms that didn't seem to end much to her pleasure. There was a butterfly room, a mirror room, a room filled to the brim with works of art from artists all over the galaxy, and a garden where they had a small picnic of sandwiches and juice that tasted like mango and blueberries but was made from one fruit.
They played cards, too, and the Doctor tried his hand at the tricks again. Rose tried her best to not laugh at his failing attempts to flick the cards dramatically like a magician would.
She remembered his fiasco at her flat…oh, how long ago that was!
Rose couldn't hide her shock when the Doctor actually named the card she had in mind, though.
When they finally started playing, Rose won at cards, and she crowed about it for a good quarter of an hour, making the Doctor sulk. She took pity on him then and chased the pout from his lips with a passionate kiss.
They didn't care a thing about the stack of cards that fluttered down, scattering on the carpet and under the sofa.
Just as Rose thought that she would develop cabin fever, the Doctor announced at the routine morning check-up that it was safe for them to travel somewhere relaxing and quiet.
Rose huffed at the 'quiet' but chose to say nothing. She actually wanted to see if the Doctor would manage a non-dangerous trip.
So, finally, after what seemed like forever, her balance finally stopped being upset by sudden movements. The headaches only ever bothered her if she read too long, listened to music or watched TV for long periods of time. And now they could start travelling again, if only to some quiet, calm places.
The Doctor said it would pass soon, too.
"Dead brilliant, me. You'd've been recovering much longer back on Earth with that backwater state of 21st century human medicine."
Rose thumped him in the upper arm lightly. She knew he was winding her up for a smile while also fishing for a compliment.
"Yeah, yeah. You are so impressive. Now, what about those super painkillers you promised?" Rose grouched.
"You're only friends with me 'cause of the drugs," the Doctor lamented playfully but metered out two neon-yellow pills and dropped them onto her palm.
"Doesn't hurt too much, does it?" he asked. "It's normal for you to still get headaches, but if they're too strong…"
Rose interrupted.
"I promise they're more annoying than painful. It's just lots of pressure inside my brain and sort of…pulsing in my temples," she explained.
The Doctor pursed his lips, his face compassionate.
"They'll work in no time, Doctor's word," he squeezed her hand but then tugged her into a hug. Rose complied willingly.
They took their time, enjoying the reassuring, solid presence of each other, before Rose pushed away a bit and placed her hands on his cheeks. The Doctor took the hint and lowered his face to hers for a kiss.
Let it be said that the Doctor was one hell of a kisser.
The uneventful trips outside the Tardis continued with Rose recovering steadily.
They strolled around the futuristic Eco-parks and flower gardens with robotic bees. Rose took off her sandals and got her legs and the bottoms of her jeans wet, salty and slightly red from the colour of alien waters.
They said goodbye to a sixty-hour light day on the shore of a cherry-coloured sea, watching the sun go down in the waters with brilliant blue light.
The Doctor was holding her hand the entire time.
Honestly, Rose marvelled silently, he was such a fusser and such a softie at hearts. It was no wonder a person like him would be the one to save the Universe regularly, protecting it from being destroyed entirely by those inhabiting it.
Not that she'd ever say that out loud, however. Not the part about him being a softie. There was no need to ruin the careful understanding they built between them.
The Doctor kept her close with his arms wrapped around her, her back to his chest, ensconced in the lapels of his leather jacket to be protected from the evening chill that settled in the air.
They returned back to Trimeni's Palace per Rose's relentless requests.
The Doctor assured her numerous times that the Tardis's databases contained information about Trimeni taking her rightful place and ruling for many years per her subjects' choice, and that her half-brother and his accomplices were banished after the trial.
Still, Rose insisted on visiting Trimeni and the others. She wanted to see for herself that they were safe and content at their newly-established court.
The Doctor frowned and grumbled the entire bumpy ride there, mumbling about unnecessary, domestic trips (how in the world did he see a follow-up trip as a domestic one went beyond Rose's understanding).
And then they arrived ten years late.
Rose traced her teeth with her tongue in annoyance, shaking her head at the Doctor's tardiness.
He shrugged at her glare.
And they couldn't go back now because they became a part of the events the moment a young woman in the crowd pointed at them and screeched merrily:
"It's them! Oh, it is them! Everyone, look! The Doctor and his Beloved, Rose!"
The time travellers froze as the crowd at the Anniversary Parade started murmuring excitedly, then cheered for them as they were making their way back to the Tardis.
Neither the Doctor nor Rose were fans of being the centre of people's attention.
Both the Doctor and Rose pretended they weren't blushing hotly at being called lovers in public.
After finding their way through the throngs of people, they were relieved to see the Tardis standing, as solid as ever, where they had left her an hour ago. They turned around when a little girl who could be 8 or 9 in human years all but begged for them to wait. The girl had pink hair and pearlescent wings that were fluttering excitingly. She pushed a parcel wrapped in gold-coloured velvet into Rose's hands and smiled shyly.
Rose couldn't help but mirror the child's smile. Something about the girl was striking her as familiar.
The Doctor leaned over her shoulder to look at what was in the parcel. Rose opened it carefully, gasping when she saw the book and recognised the people on it.
"Mother sends her kindest regards. She says the people of the Continent will always remember the kindness the Doctor and Rose offered to the Presidentesse and her court."
Rose got the picture then.
The girl resembled Trimeni.
It was her daughter!
And Trimeni must've known they were there.
"Thank you," Rose started, unsure of the girl's name.
"Rose! Mother named me in your honour," the girl replied, her wings flickering merrily. "She says she hopes that I'll be as brave as you are and that I'll find myself a partner as loving as the Doctor is."
Rose stared at the girl, wide-eyed, the book and the gold velvet clutched to her chest.
The whole continent had thought the Doctor and Rose were lovers even before they became ones.
She felt her face flush pink with embarrassment. Surely, the Doctor would protest such…nonsense.
They were kissing, hugging and sometimes sleeping together, sure, and they might have been going on dates since their very first trip together, but they didn't discuss things explicitly. They just went with the flow, enjoying the new edge to their relationship, not putting any labels on it.
But now that someone has put the label on them? And in front of such a crowd no less? Surely the Doctor would disagree with Rose being called his… beloved in such a loud, public manner.
Rose looked at the Doctor, uncertain. He gave her a quick smile. She could see that his eyes were troubled.
As if he was awaiting rejection.
She smiled back reassuringly, trying to convey her true feelings about the matter.
Then, he placed a hand on her waist as he touched the book cover with the fingers of his other hand.
Rose had to give it to the book cover artist: both her and the Doctor's appearances were drawn uncannily like them up to the smallest details like the pockets of his leather jacket and the star-patterned bracelet on her wrist.
"'Course you will, Rose," the Doctor nodded to the girl with a smile. "You're brilliant, just like your mother! And just like my Rose is. There's bound to be someone to see and appreciate that."
The pink-haired girl preened under the praise, then she gave them a short, shallow curtsy and disappeared into the crowd.
Rose felt warmth bloom in her chest, painting the world around her brighter, making her feel high on happiness.
He called her 'his Rose.'
She thought she'd float away, so high she was on her happiness.
Sure, the Doctor and her didn't talk a lot about romance and other things.
But he didn't reject them being called a couple. He blushed and he worried but he didn't disagree with Rose being his beloved.
If anything, he confirmed that.
They stepped into the Tardis. The doors closed behind them gently on their own accord, cutting the buzzing of the crowd out.
Rose looked at the Doctor and giggled at seeing him grin.
There had been a romance book written about them.
They were okay. They were together. They were happy and in love.
Who needed heart-to-hearts and labels anyway?
The End.