Summary: After causing Rose to suffer a near fatal incident from too much stimulation, it's a long road back to wanting the Time Lord's touch again, when memory gets in the way.

Pleasure in Reverse:

Recovery

He wasn't going to take her home, not with her mind like it was now. He wasn't going to give her back to Jackie damaged like this. He needed to fix what he'd broken, needed to repair the trust he'd shattered on the floor of the console room two weeks prior. The Doctor had no idea how he was going to do it, yet, not with Rose's instinctive flinching whenever he got too close to her or she saw him reach for her. But he had to, the guilt was killing him.

The first clue that something had been badly damaged between them was three days later. The next time he'd landed the TARDIS somewhere he thought she'd enjoy herself, he had held out his hand for her's and she'd refused. First hesitating and then shaking her head, she'd given him a wide berth and scooted out the TARDIS doors. The fear in her eyes haunted him, forcing him to recall the way he'd played her body like a fiddle and taunted her with it...before walking away and leaving her to...that. Shame filled the ancient Time Lord as he followed her outside, determined to at least shadow her and kept himself to a guard's distance instead of the ususal shoulder to shoulder closeness he'd previously enjoyed.

They hadn't talked about it and he dreaded the conversation he knew they had to have. He also knew that if Rose were going to bring it up, she would've by now. So, she was avoiding it as well...because of the close physical contact he insisted on when they discussed sensitive things like this. He tucked her in against himself on the couch in the library or cuddled her on his lap when he knew a conversation was going to leave her in tears. And he knew this would, but he also knew that leaving hit much longer would do her no good at all.

And it had to be done.

"Rose." He said softly, hating the way she curled in on herself. "We need to talk and putting it off isn't going to help." This time he didn't let his hand fall away, instead he held it out as long as it took until she finally gave in and gingerly took his fingers. "I'll fix it. We need to talk, but I also need to fix this." He told her, tugging her shivering form into the circle of his arms and holding her there. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, love."

She shivered, and then the tears began to come. He eased onto the couch, his girl in his lap and bowed his dark head into her hair, his own tears dampening the bleached blonde hair at her nape. "So sorry. Never wanted to hurt you."

He knew she forgave him when she finally turned her body fully against his chest, curled up there and just bawled. Echoes of the pain she'd experienced were in her cries but more and worse, was the disappointment when what she'd expected had gone so horribly wrong. He felt even worse when he heard her whisper that she still loved him, that she was just scared and she'd work harder at getting over that. Like it was her fault.

He cradled and rocked her gently in his arms, unable to bear the thought that his precious girl was blaming herself.

He had to fix this. He had to.