Disclaimer: If I'd been born half a century earlier, I would have owned the Doctor.

A/N: This is for nine, for whom I have great respect and appreciation, and who will always be my Doctor.

It was quiet…a strange enough occurrence when you were with the Doctor. Something had woken her, perhaps a breeze or an unfamiliar sound. She lay there for a moment…still comfortable with the dregs of sleep…still exhausted from the long day...a typical day for her and the Doctor…resulting in quite a few scrapes and bruises for both.

She sighed and turned over, basking in the sheer luxury of relaxing. The thin pallet rustled beneath her, and the soft blanket that covered her was light enough that she could still feel the warm breezes that wafted through the otherwise still air.

Rose opened her eyes and was greeted by a world of branches and leaves that glowed with the soft blue light of the planet's moon. You couldn't see the stars on this planet…their moon was made of an element that blocked out their light. But the silver-blue orb was always full…and their nights were beautiful.

Rose viewed the very odd surroundings, that had become strangely docile and comforting in the pale light, like a nighlight lighting a room. They were lying in one of the open treehouses that were preferred by the natives…so ingrown and ancient that the plank floors had grown smooth with use, and the supports seemed part of the trees themselves.

You grew more appreciative of small and fleeting things when you traveled with the Doctor, Rose noted. You noticed beauty where you'd never seen it before and looked harder at details because you never knew if you would have a chance to see them again. Just that day the Doctor had pulled off yet another close escape, saving her life in the bargain.

Still drowsy, Rose rolled back over and came face to face with an arm wrapped in cool, dark leather. She smiled and propped herself up on her elbows her face in her hands, the blanket falling back from her t-shirt clad shoulders. The Doctor was asleep…another strange occurrence with him. He had stretched out on the wood floor beside her pallet, wrapped in his battered leather jacket, hiding the blood-stained, tattered jumper beneath. He held the sonic screwdriver tightly in his left hand, the much-used instrument buzzing faintly and giving off a sharp blue glow. His face was turned to the left, facing her.

His features were strangely soft and muted in the light…and his expression was restful. He looked very tired…and Rose could see many lines of worry and stress in his face that were smoothed out only in sleep. He didn't look old though…rather, ageless…the old, young Doctor…the 900 yr. old timelord who looked to be less than 40. It was a different look from his usual maniacal grin, ecstatic blue eyes, and rather large nose and ears.

Rose reached out and eased the screwdriver from his hand, shutting it off and laying it beside his head. She lay there for a moment or two, gently touching the ugly bruise that darkened his left eye, and running her hand over his shot-cropped hair; this was definitely not a side of the Timelord she often got to see.

His brows were knitted slightly…as though there were an eternal concern or turmoil that he could not release even in sleep. Sighing again, Rose laid her head on the cool, leather-clad chest, feeling it rise with slow, even breaths, hearing the odd, but reassuring double-beat of his hearts. She felt him stir beneath her slightly, murmuring something in his gruff northern voice. He turned his head away and she felt the weight of his left hand on her shoulder.

She smiled and closed her eyes, letting the darkness take her again. She felt nothing now, not any of the fears or worries or excitement that tailed her throughout their adventures. She was just peaceful…and safe…she would always be safe with her Doctor.