Jackie listened in stunned silence as the Doctor explained why Mickey would never come home. Rose was still crying in her arms, and he was acutely aware that this was a level of domestics he would never have tolerated for anyone but her.

When he finished the story, Jackie frowned. "But why would he stay there, instead of coming home where everyone knows him?"

Rose looked up and wiped the tears from her eyes. "It was his gran, Mum. Remember his gran? She was still alive there, and I think… He always felt guilty for the way she died, tripping over that piece of carpet. This is his way of making up for that."

A strained note in the TARDIS' song pressed insistently on the Doctor's consciousness. He glanced over his shoulder at his ship, then back at Rose. They both needed him.

Rose smiled wanly. "It's okay, Doctor. Get her taken care of; the trip was hard on her, too."

The Doctor stood up and looked awkwardly at the Tyler women. He wanted to give Rose a hug, but making her stand up just to satisfy his own need to comfort her didn't seem right.

Sensing his uncertainty yet again, Rose held out a hand. He took it and squeezed gently, saying, "You know where to find me if you need me."

The lights in the console room were dim when he stepped inside. "All right, old girl," he murmured as he tossed his jacket over a strut and rolled his sleeves up. "Let's see how much damage that trip did to you."

Her answering hum sounded like a sigh of relief, and he understood why when he lowered himself beneath the grating and saw the mess of fried circuitry.

Ah, I'm sorry, dear, he told her as he went to work, first removing wires that were too damaged to be repaired.

It was tedious work that resulted in more than a few singed fingers, but after five hours, he'd finally cleared out the worst of the mess. He still needed to replace the pieces he'd removed, but when he hefted himself out from beneath the console, his shoulders protested the motion.

"Ouch," he muttered, rotating his shoulders and neck to release the tension caused by too many hours hunched over in a cramped space. "Maybe I'll finish this up tomorrow."

The TARDIS hummed in encouragement, and with her permission, he left the console room heading for his bedroom. He hadn't slept properly since… in too long, and he could feel exhaustion creeping up on him.

DWDWDWDW

Rose lay flat on her back in her childhood bedroom, staring up at the ceiling. She looked over at the clock and groaned. Two in the morning. She just… couldn't sleep. Not in this bed anyway, she thought and finally sat up and swung her legs out from under the covers.

Staying in the flat had been a concession to her mother's need to feel like Rose hadn't changed that much, but it clearly wasn't working. For almost two years, her sleep had been accompanied by the soft hum of the TARDIS, and she couldn't filter out the constant buzz of London's city noises anymore.

Rose didn't bother to pull a dressing gown on over her sleep shorts and vest top; she was only going from one bedroom to another. The ship hummed a greeting as she walked through the console room, and she ran her fingers along the wall of the corridor. You're my home now, she told the sentient time ship, enjoying the warm feeling that stole over her in response.

When Rose pushed open the door to her room, she took half a step back. This was not her room. She took in the clutter of furniture and TARDIS parts and the hologram of a starry sky above and thought she knew whose room it was.

What are you up to? she asked, but before the ship could give any sort of answer, a whimper broke the silence.

Her feet carried her to the bed before she fully registered what she was doing. The fake stars above provided just enough light for her to see the Doctor's face, and the tense lines on his forehead made her heart ache.

Ever since Rose had woken up in the Doctor's arms the morning after New Earth, she'd been looking for a way to help him the way he'd helped her. This was her chance, but what could one human girl do to calm a Time Lord's nightmares?

The Doctor twisted in his sleep and the hand on top of his duvet clenched into a fist. Rose wiped her damp palms on her shorts, then took his hand and slowly uncurled his fingers until they were relaxed again.

She kept her eyes on his face; she'd read enough books to know people could act unpredictably when in the grips of a nightmare, and she didn't fancy getting hit if he struck out.

But the tension around his eyes softened, and the muscles in his forearm relaxed. How…

Then she remembered what he'd told her. Touch telepaths. "Sometimes I can sort of… get an idea of what you're feeling."

An idea came to her. She knelt beside the bed and moved her hand to his cheek, pressing it there firmly while concentrating hard on the most soothing, comforting feeling she could.

The Doctor drew in a deep breath, and Rose smiled. "Guess that works then," she whispered.

She remained kneeling by his bed for ten minutes, tracing her fingers over the arch of his left eyebrow, cupping the strong line of his jaw in her hand, and stroking his forehead. When all the lines had disappeared, she stood up, wincing a bit at the ache in her knees.

He was whimpering again before she reached the door, and she realised the nightmare wasn't going to give up so easily. Yeah, well neither am I.

Rose returned to the bed and shoved all her insecurities into the back corner of her mind. Then she flipped the duvet up and climbed under it next to the Doctor. Her heart stopped for a moment when she realised he was only wearing a pair of thin pyjama bottoms. Better this way though, she told herself as she shifted his left arm up so she could get as close to him as possible. More skin to skin contact—that's the point, right?

The Doctor tensed when she laid down next to him, and Rose nearly gave up on her plan. She placed a tentative palm on his chest, and he flinched as if he'd been burned. Why isn't this working? she wondered, hearing his breath hitch in a shuddering sob.

A moment later, it clicked. It was working, sort of. Only she wasn't relaxed right now; laying down next to the Doctor had her wound as tight as a bow string.

Rose closed her eyes and pulled up the memories of the few times she'd fallen asleep next to the Doctor. She breathed in the familiar honey scent of his skin and finally relaxed. The hand on his chest drifted down to his waist, and her thumb stroked his side.

Sleep, she thought. I've got you. I love you. You're safe.

To her amazement, she felt the tension slowly ease out of his body. The arm she'd wrapped around her shoulders moved to hold her close, and he hummed softly.

Rose had planned to return to her own room as soon as he was sleeping comfortably, but after the adventure in the parallel universe, she needed comfort and rest too. Being curled up next to him felt so right; she was asleep before she realised it.

DWDWDWDW

The Doctor was aware of two things when he woke up. First, he felt more refreshed than he had since the morning after New Earth. Second, there was an unfamiliar weight resting on his chest. He opened his eyes and spotted a certain pink and yellow human fast asleep.

Well, that would explain both things.

He could tell from the elevated levels of epinephrine lingering in his system that he'd had a nightmare, and his Rose had apparently decided the best way to soothe him out of it was to cuddle up next to him in bed.

Rose sighed in her sleep and nuzzled into his chest, and a third fact pressed itself insistently against the Doctor's awareness. With this much skin to skin contact, he could sense every one of her emotions in vivid, living colour.

His eyes drifted shut and he placed a kiss on top of her head. He'd tried so hard to act like he didn't know how she felt, because he'd known that once he accepted it, all the reasons he gave himself for why they couldn't be together would crumble.

The Doctor smiled wryly; he'd been right about that. Holding Rose, feeling the depth and commitment of her feelings for him, he knew a single word from her would make him hers.

He ran a hand through her hair, loving the way the silky strands felt as they slipped through his fingers. In response, Rose stretched and yawned, and he felt her moving toward consciousness.

Rose sighed and opened her eyes reluctantly. In her dreams, she'd been snuggled up next to the Doctor, and…

And that is the Doctor's chest.

She registered his hand stroking her hair next and realised he was awake. He was awake, and she was pressed up next to his side, projecting all of her emotions onto him.

The Doctor's hand froze. "What's wrong, Rose?" he asked, and she hated the cautious note in his voice.

Part of her wanted to sit up so she could look at him, but the stronger instinct was to hide. She turned her face into his chest and muttered, "Nothing."

He sighed, and then she felt a hand under her chin, forcing her to look up at him. "No point in lying about how you're feeling when you're draped over me like this," he said gently.

Rose felt her face heat up. He'd made it clear back when they met Sarah Jane that even though he loved her, he wouldn't let himself be with her. She'd been determined after that not to make it difficult for him, but now here she was, sleeping beside him and telling him exactly how she felt.

He let go of her chin abruptly and a mask dropped over his face. "I thought you understood that when I woke up with you lying next to me. But maybe you didn't mean to be here when I woke up." He looked up at the ceiling, now showing a projection of a sunrise. "We can just forget this, if you want."

Rose frowned, trying to figure out what he was saying. Shouldn't she be the one offering to forget? Or apologising for making there be something that needed to be forgotten?

She raised herself up on one elbow, the other hand still resting on his chest. "I just… I don't want to make you uncomfortable. I know you can tell…" She swallowed and pushed back her embarrassment. "But you don't have to worry, I know you're not—that you don't want…"

The Doctor's gaze flew to Rose's face, and he took in her pink cheeks and the way she she refused to look at him. When she'd woken up and mortification had replaced the contentment she'd been projecting, he'd wondered if maybe she hadn't wanted him to know, for some reason.

Or maybe she didn't think I'd want to know, and she was afraid to make me uncomfortable.

It was his decision, then. If he asked Rose to pretend this hadn't happened, she would. She didn't know that he'd already flown the white flag. Despite his earlier thoughts, it was tempting to retreat to the friendship they already had.

Timelines crystallised, and he realised this was a fork in the road. If he chose to continue on the path they were already on, there would never be another moment like this one.

Rose rolled over and climbed out of bed, and the Doctor felt the moment, the timeline where he was with Rose, slipping away. His throat constricted, and she had her hand on the door before he could get words out.

"Rose, wait."

She looked back at him warily, and the Doctor cursed himself and his rules for making her feel like letting him know… like this would be an imposition. He tossed the covers back and jumped out of bed, crossing the distance to the door in three easy strides.

But standing next to Rose, he couldn't find the words to explain that he'd changed his mind, that she'd changed his mind. What little hope there was in her eyes flickered out, and in desperation, he lifted his hand and placed it near her temple. If he couldn't tell her out loud, he could show her.

"May I?" he asked, following the courtesy of telepathic contact.

She nodded, and his fingers touched her temple. Connecting with her was easier than he'd expected it would be with a human, and he put that thought aside to examine later. Right now, he focused on letting her know how he felt. You think I don't, but I do, he told her silently.

Rose gasped. Afraid he'd gone too far, the Doctor started to ease out of her mind. "Don't go," Rose begged, and he relaxed into the connection again.

But I thought you didn't want this. Humans wither and die, right?

The Doctor leaned forward and pressed his forehead against hers. Being in Rose's mind was like seeing the first light of dawn after an impossibly long night. Her strength and compassion would have been enough to amaze him, but he didn't think he'd ever get over the feeling of being surrounded by her love.

You do, he told her, answering her question. And it's going to hurt so much when I lose you. That's why I want to have as many happy memories to look back on as possible.

Rose pulled back and looked him in the eye. "Are you sure? Because if we do this, Doctor, I can't go back to how things are now."

The Doctor lifted his fingers from her temple and brushed a piece of hair back over her ear. "I'm sure," he promised. "And you, Rose? How long are you going to stay with me?"

Rose placed her palms on his chest over his hearts and slowly slid them up until her hands were wrapped loosely around his neck. The Doctor sucked in a breath at the heady combination of emotion and sensation that rushed through him at the contact. He instinctively placed his hands on her waist, pulling her closer.

"Forever," she said firmly.

The Doctor was vaguely aware of their timelines twining together with that word, but he couldn't look away from Rose long enough to examine them closely. He brought a hand up to cup her jaw, and they moved together to seal their promises with a kiss.