Nine and Rose. Again.


Interlude

Rose was wandering into the TARDIS' galley when she heard a muffled curse. At least, she thought it was one; she didn't understand the language, but the voice tone suggested that a scathing, peel-the-paint kind of word was intended.

She entered the main food preparation area. The Doctor was standing with his back to her, over a sink. He seemed to be scrubbing vigorously at something.

"Doctor?"

He turned suddenly, eyes wide. The shocked look on his face swiftly morphed into a wide, semi-toothy smile. "Rose! Up already?"

"No, just up for a midnight snack," she said. She stared at the sink. "Um, what were you preparing? I don't know what Time Lords normally eat, but..."

The Doctor rolled his eyes. "We don't eat very much," he said, "we- that is I - don't have to." The smile slipped away and his eyes assumed an introspective cast. "It's mainly for the experience of the thing," he finished quietly.

Rose nodded. "So!" she said. "What new 'experience' are we trying today?"

"Actually," he said, reaching down into the sink and lifting something out, "it's your dirty dishes. Honestly, Rose, what were you thinking leaving them in there? This is a working ship, not a luxury liner! Do you do this all the time at home?" He set the offending items down on the counter. "Or is it just that being away from your mum makes you think there are no rules at all?" He leaned back and folded his arms, looking stern.

"Aw, come on!" Rose said. "I always clean up after my meals. I was just knackered after that last bit of running and went to bed early!" She glared into the Doctor's eyes. Her gaze started to falter, then, and she began to shrink back...

The Doctor let out a chuckle, and shook his head. "Ah, Rose, Rose Tyler," he said, "don't worry about it. It's been an interesting day for the both of us, and I'll admit it's probably been quite intense for you. Go ahead and get your snack. I'll see you when you're up." He tousled her hair, straightened up, and started out of the galley.

Rose looked after him, torn between relief and rampant curiosity. What had he been so upset about? Should she...

Nah.

She turned and started looking through the refrigerator.

Out in the hallway, the Doctor was pacing along in a foul mood.

"She nearly caught you out that time, old man. Need to be more careful." He ducked into another room, shut the door, and pulled out his sonic screwdriver. He began scanning it over his left hand, checking carefully and switching settings from time to time. Finally, he nodded and shut it off.

"What a play. Why the hell did I choose that one?" He took another look at his hands. No gun oil, no metal shavings, no radiation or chemical residues of any kind remained. And yet, he felt the stain. The stain of destruction.

And the pain of the realization that the only thing that had stopped him from simply grabbing one of those weapons, pulling the trigger and ending it once and for all... had been the presence of the girl behind him.

"Steady," he said softly. "It's not like the fate of the Universe rests on her shoulders."

But yours might, said a whispery voice in his head. He looked up, startled. He left the room rather more quickly than he came in, and in a few moments was back in the control room, checking gauges, monitors, every sensor.

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing."

And he began to laugh.