YES. It is Rory. But don't let his presence give you any sense of security. I am quite an evil person and I already have horrible plans for these guys :) because it's Doctor Who and that is to be expected.

You all will hate me. Just thought you should know in advance. BUT that's not for a while yet so you can relax and enjoy this brief glimpse into the mystery surrounding Rose.

The following morning, Rose was sitting on the stage of the Globe just a few feet away from Martha and Shakespeare who were each telling jokes that the other didn't understand. Rose understood them both, a testament to her experiences time traveling. She looked down at her cast and the newest addition to the autographs. William Shakespeare, written in elegant script. She wished she could go home and show her mum to prove she'd met Shakespeare. Jackie hadn't believed her last time.

Shakespeare pulled Martha close for a kiss and Rose lifted her head. Savior of the world or not, he'd still be getting a slap if he tried to take advantage of Martha.

"I've only just met you," she protested.

"The Doctor will never kiss you; he's got his own lady there. Why not entertain a man who will?"

Martha smiled a bit. "I don't know how to tell you this, oh, great genius, but…your breath doesn't half stink."

Rose giggled quietly, unable to completely restrain herself. "Oh, go on, Martha. How many women can say they got a kiss from Shakespeare? …Actually, wait. Don't answer that."

Shakespeare started to protest, but the Doctor arrived then with something frilly around his neck, what looked like a huge inhuman skull in one hand, and a weird brown hat in the other. "Good prop store back there!" he crowed. "I'm not sure about this, though." He held up the skull. "Reminds me of a Sycorax."

"Lemme see that." Rose walked over to get a better look. "Oh, my God, it does."

"'Sycorax?'" Shakespeare repeated. "Nice word. I'll have that off you, as well."

"I should be on ten percent. How's your head?"

"Still aching."

"Here." He reached up to unfasten the thing around his neck. "I got you this." He put it around William's neck. "Neck brace. Wear that for a few days till it's better, although you might wanna keep it. It suits you."

"What about the play?" Martha asked.

"Gone. I looked all over—every single copy of Love's Labours Won went up in the sky. You missed it, Rose. It was quite a show."

"My lost masterpiece," Shakespeare said, resigned.

"You could rewrite it," Rose suggested.

"Yeaaah, better not, Will," the Doctor advised. "There's still power in those words. Maybe it should best stay forgotten."

"Oh, but I've got new ideas!" Shakespeare told him. "Perhaps it's time I wrote about fathers and sons, in memory of my boy, my precious Hamnet."

"Hamnet?" Martha frowned.

"That's him."

"Hamnet?"

"What's wrong with that?"

"Anyway!" the Doctor interjected, reaching behind them to pick up the crystal ball that held the trapped Carrionites, still screaming and clawing at the glass. "Time we were off. I've got a nice attic in the TARDIS where this lot can scream for all eternity… and we've got to continue on our way; perhaps a stop in Freedonia so Martha can pick up some of her things."

"You mean travel on through time and space?" Shakespeare asked.

The Doctor's eyes widened. "You what?"

"You're from another world like the Carrionites and Martha is from the future. It's not hard to work out. But you…" he looked at Rose. "I can't tell which you are."

"Future," Rose admitted.

"That may be, but there's something about you that is not from this world. Regardless, I have seen you before, and I remember where now. It was several years ago. Your hair was longer and you were with another man."

"Yeah, that was him," she jerked her head at the Doctor. "In his last body."

"A soul that can have multiple bodies? It takes an amazing woman to love a man such as that."

She smiled.

"That's incredible. You are incredible," the Doctor told him.

"We're alike in many ways, Doctor. I sense your loss, your grief, your madness. But we both go on living, go on talking, go on hoping. We must. What else are we fit for?" Shakespeare tilted his head to the side. "I do not claim to understand what you have lost, but I know that you are not alone. Not entirely."

Rose and the Doctor moved at the same time, reaching out, their fingers twining together. He looked down at her and they smiled at each other.

"Keep her close, Doctor. Absence from those we love is self from self—a deep banishment."

The Doctor's eyes tightened and he squeezed her hand. "I know...and I would not wish for any companion in the world but her. And, yes, you can use that one, too."

Rose was glad he looked at Shakespeare then. Her breath hitched. She felt her eyes begin to sting and tightened her grip on his hand for a moment, feeling him squeeze back. She couldn't stop the blush she felt rising to her cheeks, either. Knowing how the Doctor felt about her and hearing him acknowledge his feelings, even if he didn't say them outright, were two completely different things. Her heartbeat increased and she felt a happy pressure in her chest. She caught Martha's gaze and saw that the other woman was barely concealing a grin and Rose smiled shyly back at her.

Shakespeare smiled at them for a moment longer. He then turned to the woman besides him. "Martha," he began, "let me say goodbye to you in a new verse. A sonnet for my Dark Lady." He grasped her hand gently and Martha looked over his head at the Doctor who wagged his eyebrows once.

"Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?" he began. "Thou art more lovely and more—"

"Will! Will! She's here! She's turned up!"

It was just as well that he was interrupted by the arrival of two of his actors, because Rose probably would've burst out laughing long before the Bard could've finished. She knew that sonnet thanks to the Doctor's attempts at introducing her to Shakespearian literature. Martha herself looked like she was about to have a heart attack at the realization that a famous sonnet was about her.

"We're the talk of the town!" the younger actor exclaimed. "She heard about last night! She wants us to perform it again."

"Who?" Martha asked.

"Her majesty! She's here!"

A grin slowly stretched across the Doctor's face as a fanfare began outside. A richly dressed older woman with a grand crown perched on her hair entered the pit, holding her skirt up just enough that she could walk without tripping. The elegant collar she wore reminded Rose of a flytrap flower. The two actors moved aside for the queen, bowing to her and the two guards that followed her.

"Queen Elizabeth the I!" the Doctor exclaimed, a kid at Christmas once more.

"Doctor!" she rasped.

"What?" he asked quietly, his smile fading.

Shakespeare turned to look at him curiously while Martha, sensing their impending flight, rose to her feet.

"My sworn enemy," the Queen growled.

"What?" the Doctor repeated dumbly.

"And you, brazen hussy!"

Rose was taken aback. "Excuse me?"

"Off with their heads!"

"What?!" he protested.

"Never mind what!" Martha shouted. "Just run!"

The Doctor grabbed Rose's hand and ran through the door to backstage as the queen shouted, "Stop them!"

"See you, Will!" Martha waved. "And thanks!"

"Stop that pernicious pair!" the Queen ordered and Shakespeare laughed.

The guards chased them through the streets towards the TARDIS, shouting for them to stop. They weaved throughout the people, skirts hitched high so they wouldn't trip, and Rose wasn't sure whether or not to laugh or rage at being called a hussy. It seemed that there was no end to the list of British royalty that the Doctor had pissed off. She hoped that this queen didn't form some secret anti-Doctor group; they'd barely survived the last one!

"What have you done to upset her?" Martha asked as they neared the TARDIS.

"How should I know? We haven't even met her yet." The Doctor let go of Rose's hand to pull out his TARDIS key. He handed her the crystal ball as he unlocked the door. "That's time travel for you! Still, can't wait to find out!" He held it open and both girls rushed inside.

"That's something to look forward to," he murmured, grinning. The guards, only a few yards away now, stopped to aim their bows at him. "Ooh!" he quickly climbed inside the TARDIS, shutting the door just as an arrow whizzed through the air and stuck itself into the wood.

The TARDIS gave a mighty lurch as they entered the Vortex and they all fell to the floor. Rose stayed down though, shaking, and for a moment, Martha thought she was hurt or upset. Then she realized she was laughing!

It bubbled up from deep within her, filling the room with the fresh sound of giddiness. It had been so long since Rose had laughed so freely without the weight of circumstance pressing down. The TARDIS's rotor seemed to hum merrily along with her. It was infectious. The Doctor was grinning and Martha started laughing as well. There wasn't a singular reason for it, more of a combination of relief, victory, and the fact the Doctor had somehow (or, rather, would somehow) make himself another enemy in the long line of British royalty.

Thank God he was on good terms with Queen Elizabeth III.

"Okay," Rose said when they'd calmed considerably. "I get how you could make yourself an enemy of the crown—again—"

"Oi!"

"—But what the hell did I do to earn the title of a 'brazen hussy?'"

"What the hell will you do," he corrected.

"You know what I mean!"

"Well…there are a lot of things that could earn you that title in the 1500s. Ooh, this should be interesting. Do you want to go now or save it for later?"

"Later, please," Martha said. "I don't know about you two, but I haven't had a proper sleep since before I met you. I'd like to at least have a kip before we do anything else, if you don't mind."

"Sleep sounds good," Rose agreed.

"Ah, right, sorry about that," he apologized. "Can't have you keelin' over from exhaustion, now can we?" He was silent for a few moments, his hands flitting across buttons on the console. "Hmm, right then. Rose, you help her find a guest room, then meet me in the infirmary, please."

"Why?"

He looked up at her, all trace of amusement gone. "There're a couple scans I need to run. I'd like to know how much time we have. You know, so we can make sure we squeeze in a trip back to Queen Elizabeth and avoid a paradox."

"Doctor, I'm fine."

He shook his head. "Just get Martha settled and meet me there."

Rose's jaw tightened at his tone and she stared him down for a few moments. He glared right back. "Fine. Come on, Martha," she called stiffly. "Let's get you sorted." She stormed from the room without looking back and Martha wisely followed.

Rose walked through the halls without direction. The TARDIS would let her know when they found the room she'd been preparing for Martha. Martha followed her without question and a quick glance showed her meek expression. Rose felt bad. What would it have been like if she was in Martha's place, arriving on the TARDIS with a pair who had their own history, inside jokes and references, issues in the past that they were trying to resolve, and trying to make sense of it all and establish dynamics while adjusting to the whole time and space travel thing?

"Sorry," Rose apologized. "This is a lot, yeah?"

"Just a bit," Martha admitted.

"Would you like me to explain anything?"

"Please. I still haven't made up my mind properly, but—"

"But you'd like to know what you're signing up for," Rose finished with a smile. "I get it; I do. I really do need to get to the infirmary or he'll come hunting for me. But tomorrow, if you want."

"That'd be great."

Rose stopped in front of a blank door, and tilted her head to the side. Yes, this was it. "Here we are."

"What?"

"Your room."

Martha raised her eyebrows and looked the door up and down. "How can you tell?"

Rose smiled, tapping her finger to her temple. "Some doors are marked, some aren't. If you're lookin' for something that isn't marked she'll usually let you know."

"How? Does she talk?"

"No." Rose shook her head. "Just not in the way you're thinkin'. She doesn't work like that. She sends pictures…emotions…feelings. The Doctor always said I was more attuned to her than most so I don't know how well you'll be able to communicate with her, or if you even will be able to at all, so you might want to mark your door because rooms are almost never in the same place twice."

"You said that earlier." Martha was pleased she'd remembered. "So, can I just…go in?"

Rose nodded.

Martha reached for the knob, but then pulled her hand back slightly. "What's it gonna be like?"

"I have no idea."

Martha tilted her head curiously and turned the knob, slowly pushing the door open. The room was dark except for the light filtering in from the hallway, but it wasn't enough to make out much detail. Martha reached in to feel along the walls.

"Is there a light switch?" Martha asked. "Does the ship even have electricity?"

"In some places," Rose told her, nudging Martha into the room, "like the kitchen. Though, when it comes to the bedrooms… Unless you really want a lamp, the easiest way to get light is to do this."

She lifted her hand and snapped her fingers once, loud and purposefully.

The entire room was suddenly illuminated with light that came from nowhere and everywhere. Rose looked around the room with interest. The TARDIS had a knack for knowing exactly what would best suit the occupant of the room: from shape and size, wall colors and decorations, the furniture within and their styles, the prints of the linens, the size and feel of the bed, and even the scent of the room.

The walls of Martha's room were a light aqua blue that was oddly soothing. The floor seemed to be covered in a light brown carpet that felt soft beneath her feet and the ceiling was a deep indigo with tiny lights that were flickering gently, like a night sky. There was a window on the left side, hidden by light red curtains. When opened, it would show her anything from an alien landscape to a calm country to the view outside her window at home. She breathed in deep and she could smell pumpkin and spice and something else she couldn't place, but it reminded her of autumn. There was a closet with light brown doors, a wooden dresser, a single-person bed in the middle of the room (with an aqua and brown striped duvet on top), a few pictures, and a door that, presumably, would lead to her bathroom.

She looked at Martha and was unsurprised to see she had her hands over her mouth, eyes wide as she gazed around the room in awe. Rose grinned. "Well?"

"It's…oh, my God…it looks like home."

"Really?" Rose looked around with new interest. "Huh. Mine didn't so much. The Doctor says that the TARDIS knows what kind of room would make you most happy and she makes it that way to start. After this, if you decide one day you want bright pink neon walls, just think about it and before long, you'll open the door and hello pink!"

"This is absolutely amazing. You're absolutely amazing!" she said to the ceiling. "Oh, I'm talking to a ship."

"Happens to the best of us. My first trip I caught myself talkin' to a twig!"

She laughed. "I don't even want to know. But anyway, how do I turn the lights off? Like this?" She snapped her fingers but nothing happened. "Oi! How come it's not working?"

"Like I said, she's more used to me," Rose said. "I don't even really have to think about it anymore. Used to be I had to think 'on' an' mean it to get 'em on. He said it was 'cos she wasn't used to the way my mind worked. Try it a few times. Let her get used to your thoughts. Remember, she's telepathic. Think 'off' or 'lights off.'"

"Okay." Martha closed her eyes, screwing up her face, probably thinking with all her might, and snapped. And then again. Nothing happened.

"Relax," Rose encouraged. "A whisper can be more meaningful than a shout."

Martha nodded, her face relaxing. She was still for a moment—and then she snapped her fingers once more. The lights died save for the twinkling 'stars' on her ceiling. "I did it," she breathed.

"Woo." Rose smiled.

She snapped her fingers again and nothing happened, but the time after the next the lights came back on.

"You're getting it," she said, folding her arms and giving the room another look. "Well, I think that's all. Oh—your closet's there and the loo should be through that door." She pointed to the respective doors. "You should find the clothes you left in the wardrobe in your closet, maybe a few more things in your size from there, too. If you need anything, just leave the room and start walking. You'll find us within a few minutes. Though, mind you, if you're ever lookin' for something and you don't find it within about, eh, ten minutes, you might as well give up."

"Why's that?"

"You're not meant to find it, or someone's inside that doesn't want to be found."

"And how would the TARDIS know something like that?"

"I told you, she's telepathic. She exists differently than we do. He tried explainin' it once but all it did was give me a headache. With the Doctor, sometimes you just gotta go with things and nod whenever he stops for breath."

"Sounds like a normal bloke. Oh, before you go, how do I…mark my door?"

Rose shrugged. "Whatever you want. Put a sticky note, tie a shirt to the knob, scribble on the door with marker, or you could even try asking for a different color of door. Same way you get the lights off. …Sleep well, Martha."

"You too. And good luck with… Well…" She inclined her head the way they'd come from.

"Thanks," she mumbled. "Night." She turned and walked out of the room, heading in the opposite direction of the control room.

Martha sighed and looked around at her room again with a smile. Not unlike her home—but at the same time, completely different. The branches of coral along parts of the walls definitely weren't in her house. Their color matched the room's color scheme; however, pretty as they were, the stalks were definitely alien. Another difference was the fact that there wasn't any lamp or overhead lights (except for the stars), but the room was still illuminated. The TARDIS had done a good job of mimicking the place Martha felt happiest—she would give the ship that—and she could, at the very least, fall asleep here peaceably.

Like spending the night at a friend's, she decided.

She looked down at the red dress she wore and realized suddenly that she had no idea how to unlace a bodice by herself. She started for the door, intending to call Rose back and ask for help—but then she stopped, one hand on the door, and frowned. She was a time traveler now. Even if she didn't decide to stay with them for long, there could come a time in the very near future when she needed to know how to do something like this the way someone native to the time would. So she turned away from the door and walked over to the mirror on the wall to figure out how the hell to undo the damn thing herself.

Meanwhile, in another part of the ship, Rose had found her room not far from Martha's, across from the Doctor's like it usually was these days. One of the big things about the TARDIS was that she knew what they needed, even if it wasn't what they wanted. Martha must have needed familiarity, something normal she could retreat to amidst the insanity of life with the Doctor. After returning from packing up her mum's flat, she'd opened the door and found herself standing in an almost exact replica of the room she'd grown up in, right down to the color of the duvet on her bed.

Though it seemed that the TARDIS had finally decided Rose was allowed to have her preferred room back: the walls were lavender with soft pink bordering, matching the duvet and pillows, and the carpet was TARDIS blue (the Doctor's idea of a joke; Rose couldn't convince the ship to set it right). Still, it was nice to have the room back to the way she liked, carpet included, and not to be reminded of her home in the Powell Estate every five seconds.

"Thank you," she murmured, running her hand along the wall. The ship hummed in response.

Rose smiled sadly and patted the wall then went about changing into her pyjamas. The Doctor was probably pacing, waiting for her to turn up, but she didn't care. Five extra minutes while she got herself sorted wouldn't hurt anyone. She removed the dress and the little bit of makeup that had survived their excursion, brushed the tangles out of her hair, and changed into the threadbare sweats and t-shirt hanging on the edge of her bed. She stood in front of the mirror and stared at herself again. She was doing that a lot lately.

"You even look like him."

Short, blonde hair that used to be past her shoulders–cut to be more manageable and so it wouldn't get in her face as much while she ran.

"You've changed so much."

A narrow face that used to be rounded and innocent—her innocence was long since gone, ripped away by the cruelness of the universe.

"And you'll keep on changing."

A lean body that used to be soft from a life of chips and telly—hardened under the strife of being the companion to Time's Champion.

"She's not Rose Tyler. Not anymore. She's not even human…"

Green eyes that used to not reflect pain and death—her eyes had gazed into Time itself and drawn it in.

"Mum," Rose whispered, putting her hands over her face. She swallowed and tried very hard not to cry because the last thing the Doctor needed was to see evidence of tears. He'd blame himself even more than he probably already was.

Jackie Tyler would never understand the impact of her words on her daughter, especially now when Rose's humanity was being questioned. Because what human can survive with huon particles in them? What human can feel obsolete magic being performed and gaping holes in reality? What human could stare into the eyes of a Judoon without flinching or make it through a naming without even passing out?

She pulled the TARDIS key out from under her shirt and cradled it in her hands. It was warm, which to her represented the life within the ship itself.

She hadn't been lying to Shareen when she said that this unimpressive piece of metal was the most valuable thing she owned. It represented her freedom, her home, and the madman who'd stolen her heart. She loved him. She'd loved him before he'd given her this little key. She'd barely known him, she'd been more than a little afraid of him, and yet the thought of him leaving her behind had scared her more than the Gelth-zombies, than the rays of solar energy inches from her body, than the army of shop window dummies. He'd given her the key to prove he wouldn't just leave her and, really, he hadn't.

"What are you? What are you?"

"Let's find out, shall we?" she asked her reflection.

When Rose got to the infirmary the Doctor was waiting for her like she'd expected, fiddling with the control panel on a device on the counter. Rose stood in the doorway with her arms folded and cleared her throat softly to catch his attention. He looked up at her, swallowing once, and then glanced back at the panel to press another button before turning and sliding his hands into his jacket pockets. They looked at each other for a few silent moments.

"I'm sorry," he finally said.

"You say that a lot, Doctor."

"And I mean it…almost every time."

"Oh? And when haven't you meant it?"

He rubbed the back of his neck absently. "Well…um…the other day, for example. I walked in on you singing in the kitchen as you made the tea. You got mad. I said I was sorry." He paused and grinned. "I wasn't."

Rose rolled her eyes. "You're never been sorry when you catch me singing."

"Not once," he agreed. "You have a lovely singing voice. Better than me."

"I s'pose," she mumbled, looking away.

He swallowed and lowered his hands to his sides. "I am sorry for earlier. I didn't mean to be rude."

"Just sort of happens with you, right?"

"Right. I… Just…" he exhaled loudly and Rose looked up to see his shoulders hunched under some unseen weight. She didn't wait for him to finish, walking forward to hug him, slipping her arms firmly around his waist. He didn't even really think,—it was an automatic response, wrapping his arms around her and holding her close as he buried his face in her hair. They stood like that for several minutes, just listening to each other's breathing, taking comfort in the closeness and the soothing rhythm of his heartsbeat.

Rose couldn't help it. She yawned loudly and buried her face in his chest. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head before stepping back, breaking her grip, and patting the bed. "C'mon. Up you get."

"Can't it wait?" she complained. "It's been a long couple of days."

"No, it really can't."

"What are you even lookin' for?"

The Doctor stared at her desolately. "They could be killing you, Rose. One day you might find yourself burning from the inside out. I need to know how long we've—" he stopped abruptly and turned away. She didn't need to see his face to know what he meant.

Without further questioning, she sat down on the bed and let him do his work. He shined the sonic in her eyes several times, each time with a different setting. She held her breath as he ran a scanner over her that looked like it was made from repaired parts of a record player. He took a vial of blood and a lock of her hair. He listened to her heartbeat, her breathing, and her pulse. Almost as an afterthought, he gave her broken arm another boost with the sonic.

Rose sat with her legs dangling off the bed, swinging her feet as she watched him analyze the results. His face was smooth like it always was when he was trying not to show how he felt, but she recognized the tightness in his jaw, the way his eyes were slightly crinkled. He couldn't hide things from her the way he could in his last body. She'd been with this form since its creation—hell, she'd caused its creation—and she knew all the expressions and motions, all the subtle nuances and reactions. She probably knew him better than anyone alive.

"I don't understand," he finally murmured. "They're there. They're definitely in you. I can see them! They're registering and everything. And from the looks of things, they've been there a while. Since the Gamestation, I'd say. When you absorbed the Heart you absorbed everything; not just time, but also the huon within her. I know I took the entire Vortex out of you and, well, obviously most of the huon particles…but not all of them. You should be dead, Rose. Do you understand?"

She nodded, her eyes staring straight into the Doctor's with complete and utter trust. "But I'm not."

"I know." He paused, simply looking back into her eyes for a moment. "And I hate this, but there's another round of scans I need to do, but then we can call it a night."

"Well, go on, then. 'm knackered." To prove her point, her mouth stretched wide in a huge yawn. She covered her mouth with the back of her hand and blinked a few times. "Sorry."

The Doctor reached into his pocket and pulled out a container, holding it out for her to see. "I kept a vial of the particles from the Torchwood lab. I've been studying them off and on since we left Donna. I was going to add them to the TARDIS for safekeeping, but I haven't gotten around to it yet. …Do you mind?"

"What?"

"You said you first noticed something when we were down in the lab. When I activated these." He gave the vial a little shake. "So, I figure the same thing will happen again. Then I can compare the scans and—"

"Get on with it," Rose ordered, pulling her legs up onto the bed and crossing them. "I trust you." The Doctor swallowed and moved directly in front of her. Her eyes didn't leave his for a second as she smiled and nodded encouragingly even though she was afraid. Because that's what you just had to do sometimes when you lived the life they did, even if no one was buying it.

He twisted the knob at the top of the container and Rose saw the contents glow before tingles ran along her skin and she shuddered, closing her eyes reflexively. The singing was back, wordless and hauntingly beautiful. She smiled to herself. When her eyes opened and she looked at the Doctor again, he nearly dropped the vial.

It was like being thrown back a year to the Gamestation, watching through different eyes as Rose—his beautiful, fantastic, stubborn, loving Rose—sat before him, glowing, golden, beautiful. It was like feeling the fear of seeing her as the Bad Wolf, hearing what she'd done and knowing that she would burn soon…and that it would be his fault. It was like feeling the utter wrongness in time and space as she saved Jack from his extermination. It was like realizing what he had to do to save her, the woman he loved, who loved him in return, and calmly accepting it. That body had been born as he wanted to die and she'd made him want to live again. It only seemed right that that body died so she could live, and the next one was born with the desire to live, to protect and to love her so she never had to die for him.

And here she was again, sitting before him, glowing and golden and beautiful, always beautiful. It was a small consolation to see that her entire body wasn't shimmering like it had back then—just her eyes. The irises were completely golden, the pupils deep black like dark stars, glinting and shining. There was something else, too; something ancient. He leaned in closer and was immensely relieved when he didn't see Time looking back at him.

She wasn't the Bad Wolf.

His mind was racing, considering everything from science to logic to old philosophies to things in religions. Absolutely nothing was impossible as far as Rose Tyler was concerned. She'd proven that time and again.

He set the vial on the bed next to her, softly ordering her not to touch it, leaving to get his sonic. She sat patiently, head cocked to the side as if listening to something he could not hear—which, in all likelihood, was what she was doing. Whatever the case, she didn't seem to be in pain, and that was enough.

Rose let him run the scans, obeying silently, not touching the vial. The singing was soothing in her mind and she felt safe—but she still didn't want to touch them, just in case. While the Doctor tried to get his answers, Rose tried to get hers; the song was coming from somewhere. Songs didn't sing themselves. She listened harder, focusing in on the wordless melody.

"Are you okay?" the Doctor asked and her eyes flicked to him for a moment.

"I can hear the singing again. I…I hear it in my dreams sometimes."

"Singing?" he asked, relieved to hear her voice and not the layered one of the Bad Wolf.

"I…I remember…I heard it when I looked inside her…. Oh, it's her! The TARDIS. She sings, Doctor."

Oh. "I know," he said softly.

"And she loves you."

The Doctor smiled, lifting his eyes to the ceiling. "I know."

Then he cleared his throat and twisted the knob again. The huon particles within settled and their glow died. A moment passed and Rose remained the same, but before the Doctor could properly start to panic, the light in her died as well, the gold fading from her eyes. She blinked a few times, a slight frown on her face, and she swallowed.

"She loves you a lot," Rose murmured.

He smiled. "And I love her, too."

She closed her eyes, smiling. "She knows."

The Doctor walked with her back to her room, arm around her waist to support her. She'd been tired before she arrived in the infirmary and the brief stint with the active huon had drained her of most of her remaining energy. She was barely conscious when he gently ushered her into her room, noting the change in décor, and tucked her into bed. He sat on the edge of her mattress and gently stroked her hair in a soothing rhythm.

Sometimes—like right now, for instance—he couldn't believe what she'd done to him. Two years he'd known her. A measly two years out of more than nine hundred and never had he changed more drastically in such a short period of time, regenerations aside. Never had a single entity, let alone a young human, affected him in such a way. He felt like some of his past lives were scoffing at him except for his most recent. He was shaking his head, smiling in understanding; because, after all, he'd died for that woman. The rest of them, however…well, if they were all brought together again for some reason, they could argue about it then.

He shook his head and looked down at the young woman sleeping on the bed. She was completely out and probably wouldn't stir for a good ten hours or more considering how much sleep she'd gotten recently and the strain on her body and mind. Martha would probably be the same. Rose's temper he could handle, but he had no idea how Martha would react to being awoken before she liked. If he wanted to avoid regeneration, it would probably be best to just let them sleep undisturbed.

The infirmary was closer than it had been when they'd left, by about two corridors, which meant he was close enough to reach her quickly if she had a nightmare but far enough away he hopefully wouldn't wake her up. He pulled off his jacket and tie, tossing them onto the chair, and steeled himself for the long night ahead. He had two dozen results to study and countless theories to work through. He was going to figure out what the hell was going on inside Rose Tyler.

Did you know that gravity is only just a theory? It might not be true.

So I have my own theory about what keeps our feet on the ground. The reviews people leave on fics. Yep. That's it. So...you know...you should leave me some nice reviews because otherwise we're all going to float away and bump into things and eventually we'll all float up to the mesosphere where we will suffocate and freeze to death.

And that won't be very fun at all.