Hi guys! Here it is: my first multi-chaptered story that ... wait for it ... I've actually finished! That's right! It's done! And so is its sequel! Wow! I feel so accomplished!

But, to explain a bit before you start. This is a story that I wrote, based off of a one-shot I wrote called Blue Sheets. In fact, half of this chapter is almost exactly the same as that one-shot, so if you've read Blue Sheets, and you read this and feel like you've read parts of this before, it's because you have. But, by no means do you have to read Blue Sheets before you read this.

A little more information about the story. It's AU . . . sort of. . . . I will tell you this: the events of the second half of season two do eventually happen (and yes, that includes Doomsday, sad as it is), but with different circumstances, and Rose and the Doctor's relationship progresses differently. It begins right after The Satan Pit, with what I think could have easily happened after the Doctor and Rose were reunited. And yes, I know, horrible title. But it was the only one I could think of!

So, hopefully you like it, and hopefully everyone stays in character throughout the story.

Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who, the Doctor, or Rose, obviously. Does it look like I'm rolling around gleefully in piles of money?

Rose awoke to peace. Strange, she thought. No smells that reminded her almost exactly of the time Mickey had blown up his computer. No shouts or exclamations of glee or surprise or alarm. No being thrown out of bed unceremoniously by a TARDIS that isn't being flown properly. Nothing.

She opened her eyes warily, wondering if she was indeed still on the TARDIS, or if it had all been a dream, as she sometimes worried. Mornings like this had been scarce – or rather, nonexistent – since she had left home to travel nearly two years ago.

But, no. There was still the low humming that the sentient ship always made when she was content. The soft, gold glow emanating from the walls. The slight rocking that happened when the TARDIS was simply sitting in a point in space, not moving. But it was strangely quiet. Too quiet.

Rose sat up in her bed. . . . Wait, that was wrong. This wasn't her bed. Her bed had magenta sheets. These were . . . blue. Blue sheets. But that meant. . . . No. It couldn't be possible. . . .

At that moment, Rose was made aware of another anomaly of this strange, strange morning (if it was, indeed morning; it was so hard to tell on the TARDIS).

"Oh. My. God," she breathed, as she pulled up the sheets – the blue sheets – to cover her bare chest. "But . . . that's impossible," she said, staring blankly at the blue sheets – the blue sheets; they were blue! – covering her equally bare bottom half.

She scanned the room and, judging by the clothes strewn about, it really wasn't impossible.

She clapped a hand to her now hanging-open mouth. "We. . . ." She glanced at the other half of the bed. Empty. Well, of course it was. He was a surprisingly light sleeper. "How. . . ?"

The valiant child who will die in battle so very soon.

Oh, yes. The beast's words that still resonated inside her. It was because of them.

On any other night she wouldn't hesitate. She would barge right into his room, no knocking, nothing to announce her presence. But tonight was different. She stared at his door, her hand raised, ready to knock. She took a deep breath and gave it three short raps.

Within seconds, the door was whipped open, revealing him in his blue pinstriped suit – what, did he sleep in it, too? – his brown hair as tousled as ever. "Rose?" he said, looking her up and down, concern evident on his face. "Everything alright?"

She felt suddenly self-conscious in the tank top and shorts she wore to bed. She tugged at the hem of her shirt, biting her lip. "I. . . . It's just. What he said. About me." She looked away. "And, well. . . . No, it's not even that, it's. . . ." She looked back up into his brown eyes which were studying her, worrying about her. "I thought I was never gonna see you again."

His face broke into a smile that encompassed everything, crinkling his eyes. "Oh, Rose," he said as he pulled her into his arms. "We've been separated before, though. And how many times have we found each other again?"

"I know," she answered, her arms tightening around his lean form. She buried her face in his neck, breathing in the delicious scent of him. "But it was different this time. It was more . . . real."

He let out a breath and closed his eyes. He understood. He felt the same way. Despite how many times they had been separated, how many times they had faced certain death, and come out stronger than ever, this time had been different. If he hadn't found the TARDIS, seemingly by pure chance, it would have been the end of both of them. "But we made it through. Like we always do."

"Like we always will," she said, pulling away to smile at him. The Doctor smiled back, reaching up to tuck her hair behind her ear, both of their smiles fading away as they felt that one small gesture light a spark between them. He leaned forward, pressing his lips lightly to her cheek, lingering for a moment. As he pulled away, Rose turned her face towards his and their eyes locked, electricity sparking in the short distance between their bodies. Rose's eyes flickered down to his lips, and that was all the invitation the Doctor needed to press his lips to hers lightly.

The kiss was soft at first, but quickly grew more fervent and passionate as their bodies became alive, and suddenly they couldn't get close enough. Rose pressed against the Doctor, wrapping her arms around his neck, her hands in his hair. His arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer and still it wasn't close enough.

She couldn't think, couldn't breathe. Everything ran together, actions melding together seamlessly until she wasn't aware when one ended and another began and everything seemed to happen all at once.

There was heat all around them, coming off in waves, and they stumbled back through the doorway as she clawed at his shirt, tearing it open, buttons flying everywhere. His tie was in the way so she pulled at it until it was gone, his hands finding their way under her tank top, his fingers gliding up her back leaving tingling trails. They broke apart long enough to yank her tank top off, then came together again. She pushed his suit jacket and shirt off and ran her hands over his chest and back, then reached down to undo his pants as his hands reached behind her to find the clasp of her bra and suddenly it was gone and he pulled away, kicking off his trainers, then his pants. Rose shimmied out of her shorts and underwear, and he pulled off his boxers, then pulled her towards him, throwing her on his bed, onto the silken blue sheets. The Doctor hovered over her for a moment before pressing his lips to hers once more and his hands were running down her sides and caressing her cheek and tangled in her hair and cupping her breasts and everywhere all at once and she reached down to stroke him and felt his moan vibrate through her mouth and then he was inside her and her body was on fire and she could see bright golden light tickling the edges of her vision and she reached up to pull him closer and her fingernails dug into his back as she bit her lip, gasping, moaning, and it was so good, so good and he moaned her name into her ear as she gasped his name into his, and then it was amazing brilliant fantastic and she was burning so hot she didn't know why there were no flames, but there was still that golden light blinding her, and her body was trembling as he came and a wave of pleasure rolled over her. She felt lightheaded and dizzy, gasping for breath, as he kissed her again, slow and sweet, then moved next to her, laying on his side to face her.

Rose turned to her side to mirror him, smiling, her cheeks flushed and eyes bright. The Doctor smiled back as she scooted closer, pulling the covers over them, and his arms wrapped around her in an embrace. She snuggled into him, sighing contentedly as he stroked her hair, until eventually they fell asleep in each other's arms.

The Doctor stood rigidly facing the TARDIS's main console. He had come out here to busy himself, maybe start working on the wiring to the washing machine. It really was getting out of hand, having to travel back to the Powell estate any time Rose ran out of clean clothes. And it was especially absurd, what with the enormous wardrobe on board just waiting for her perusal, but she refused to use it for some unknown, Rose-like reason.

It was these thoughts of Rose, though, that had him standing there as if frozen. It was a mistake, he told himself. A terrible, awful, stupid, amazing mistake. A terribly wonderful, awfully superb, stupidly brilliant, amazing mistake.

He loved Rose, of course he did. He had known it since their first trip together, when he had found her trapped in a room with the sun shields being lowered and realized that he wished it was someone – anyone – other than her trapped in that room. But he had more baggage than should be possible, a daft old face, and was too old for her, besides. He didn't deserve her, and she deserved someone so much better than him.

He tried pushing her away, holding her at a distance. At first, he'd thought it was working, when she brought Adam along with them. Oh, to be sure, the Doctor had hated Adam, but at least he was closer to Rose's age, less volatile, less damaged. But when she left Adam behind without a second glance, he began to suspect that his strategy of pushing her away might not be working as well as he wanted it to.

Then, when they'd met Captain Jack Harkness, he knew for sure that by pushing her away, he had only made her cling more tightly to him. "He's like you, only with dating and dancing," she'd told him, a pointed look in her eyes. Jack was a substitute Doctor, the Doctor Rose suspected he could be to her if he would just stop being so stubborn and see what was right in front of his eyes, waiting with open arms. He'd given in a bit, danced with her like she longed for him to do. But the next day, it had been back to business. It nearly broke his hearts when he saw the look of disappointment in her eyes when he barely responded to her touches.

He had kissed her, on Satellite Five. It was an action that came from a mixture of adrenaline, loneliness, self-loathing, the odd combination of humility and gratitude he felt at her sacrifice and determination to save him, and his love for her. A moment of weakness, and indecision, masked as and attempt to save her life. He didn't know if she remembered, and if she did, he could always explain it away as being the only way she would let her defenses down enough for him to release her from the Time Vortex. But either way, it was ruined by his regeneration, a huge moment stolen from both of them by the physiology of a Time Lord. Stupid.

But this regeneration was different from his last. Much different. He was young, or young enough, at least, to not draw attention from people who saw them together and thought that she was too young, or him too old. And he was good-looking, in a way he hadn't been before. And it was harder to say no to Rose. Harder to stop himself from responding animalistically when Rose – or Cassandra, as he found out later – kissed him on New Earth. This body was more responsive, more sensitive to tactile stimulation, than his previous body had been. Well, it made a bit of sense: he was born out of a deep love for Rose – he had sacrificed himself to save her life, after all – that was magnified in this incarnation, just as his previous regeneration had been born out of a war as a soldier. And it was that realization, fueled by his response to Cassandra's kiss, which made him pull away again.

He shielded first behind Sarah Jane, his old and dear friend. Then he brought Mickey on board, despite the protests from Rose that he had pretended not to see. Finally, it was Reinette who he hid behind, trying to push Rose away, to protect her from himself. But it hadn't worked. By doing that, he only succeeded in hurting Rose, anyway, and both Reinette and himself in the process. Honestly, there was nothing stupider that he could have done.

So he stopped. He accepted his feelings, and hers. He stopped pushing her away, and she came back willingly, eagerly. They hadn't been together in that way, not yet, but they were so close. They touched more often than necessary, their hands practically glued together. When they weren't holding hands, it wasn't often that they weren't connected in some other way, whether it be through a hug, a hand on a shoulder, or just standing so close they were brushing up against each other. It began to feel unnatural when she wasn't by his side, as though a part of him was missing, and in some ways, it was true. Her hand had become an extension of his own, and nothing felt right without her next to him. His lungs constricted, his hearts pounded, and he couldn't stop himself from reaching out to stroke her hair or run his hand down her arm, just to remind himself that she was still there.

But he had never wanted to act on his feelings. It wasn't right. He was a Time Lord. She was a human. He was over 900 years old and she was 20. Still practically a child, by Time Lord standards. And she would die, eventually. He would have to go on without her, a fate that would be so much worse if he gave in. No, he was happy enough just being with her. He didn't need to go any further.

But then they'd landed on the impossible planet, the planet orbiting around a black hole without being sucked in. And everything had changed.

Rose made her way through the halls of the TARDIS, donned now in her tank top and shorts from last night. She didn't know where he was, but she could guess that the TARDIS was leading her to him, based on the humming coming from the walls that was getting steadily louder. Rose paused at the end of the corridor and peeked into the room beyond. The main console. Of course he would be here. It was obvious, now that she thought of it, but she had been worried that he had squirreled himself away somewhere to hide and to think and to brood.

Rose laid a hand on the wall of the corridor, murmuring her thanks and felt a tingle run through her body from the contact. The TARDIS had always liked her, but since she had looked into the Heart, begging to be sent back to the Doctor on Satellite 5, she felt a deeper connection to her, almost sister-like. Rose smiled at that. She had always wanted a sister. But she had never imagined she would find one in a sentient time machine.

Rose took a deep breath, squared her shoulders and walked into the room, stopping a few feet away from the console. The Doctor's back was to her, and he appeared to be lost in very deep thought. Rose didn't need three guesses to figure out what it was about. . . .

She cleared her throat. "Doctor-" she began.

His back tightened at his name, and he swung around, plastering a smile onto his face. "Rose!" he exclaimed, trying to muster up his usual exuberance. "Well, now, where do you want to go today? We could always try Falmaria! They've got trees there that actually control the weather. When they're pleased, sun! When they're sad, rain, obviously. Ooh, you don't want to see when they're mad though." He turned, dancing around the TARDIS's console, pulling levers and flipping switches. "Or, we could go to Amtar, home of the universe's largest ocean. Actually, the entire planet is the ocean. Oh, but they've got brilliant underwater cities hidden in undersea caves with pockets of air. They're beautiful, you'd love it there. They've actually got real live mermaids. Or, there's always the lost city of Atlantis, before it sank into the depths of the ocean and was . . . well, lost, hence the name."

Rose had been trying to interrupt, to get a word in to say that she didn't want to go anywhere, not at that moment. She wanted to talk to him, to actually sit down and have a real conversation with him, one that didn't involve whatever nefarious plot they found themselves in. But at the mention of Atlantis she felt her jaw drop and she couldn't help asking, "Atlantis? It's real?"

He grinned. "Oh, yes! Brilliant city, brilliant people. Technology advanced way ahead of their time. Which is to be expected, I suppose, as they were aliens," he added thoughtfully.

She gaped at him, her mouth hanging open in surprise. "You're telling me that Atlantis was real, and it was an alien city?"

"Well, yeah. They-"

"Wait. Stop," she said, shaking her head to get her mind back on track. "Doctor, I think we need to talk about . . . well . . . you know. Last night."

He froze, a pained expression on his face. "Rose-

"Just, hang on a minute. Let me talk for once." She took a deep breath. "You're gonna say it was a mistake. It shouldn't have happened. But, Doctor, last night was. . . ." Rose drifted off as she approached him slowly, as if he were a wild animal about to bolt any second. Which was basically true, if the way he was looking at her was any indication. But Rose was undeterred as she took a large breath and continued, "It was . . . the best night of my life." She smiled, not her usual, all-encompassing grin, but a softer, more content smile. "You don't know how long I've waited for you. For us."

"Rose," the Doctor interjected, his hearts thudding. He couldn't think, couldn't breathe. He backed away slowly. "I. . . . I think. . . ." He wanted to say something, anything, but for the first time in this regeneration, words seemed to escape him. "I think. . . ." God, say something! he screamed to himself. Anything! "I think . . . we should go to Amtar." And at that, he turned back to the console and began flipping random switches, unable to concentrate on which switches, exactly, he was flipping and hoping that he wasn't going to do something to blow them up. Well, he had said something, at least. . . .

Rose was silent for a moment, then snapped, "You can't be serious."

"What?" he asked innocently. "I told you, it's quite beautiful there! And there's unlikely to be any trouble; it's a peaceful planet. What could be better?"

"'What could be better?'" she quoted. "You actually listening to me, for one! That might be better, yeah?"

The Doctor glanced at her, taking in her furrowed brows, brown eyes bright with anger, and mouth twisted into a scowl. "I was listening. And you're right. Last night was. . . ." Amazing. Brilliant. Superb. "Good."

He didn't need to look at her to know how she felt about that. The hurt and disbelief were dripping from her voice as she repeated, "'Good?' That's it?"

"Yeah." He closed his eyes, steeling himself against what he knew he had to say next. It was hurtful. Rude. But it had to be said, even if it wasn't true. "What do you expect, Rose? I'm 900 years old. I've had a lot of brilliant nights, and they're pretty difficult to top." But last night was better than all of them combined, he had to stop himself from adding.

Rose was quiet for a long time. So long that the Doctor wondered if she had left. He couldn't bear to look though, in case she hadn't. If he saw her face, saw the hurt and the tears that were surely leaking from her eyes, he would break down. Wrap her in his arms and tell her that he was lying, plead with her to forgive him, explain why he was doing this. Why it would be better for both of them, in the end, to go back to how they were.

But why? a sharp voice in the back of his mind asked. Would it be so wrong to actually tell her how you feel? Was it his imagination, or did the voice have a distinct northern accent? Stop being so bloody stubborn and self-righteous and do something for yourself for once! To hell with the consequences!

If it's so easy, the Doctor answered back, why didn't you ever do something about it?

You've got to be kidding me, the voice replied, disbelief echoing in his voice. Don't you remember? I was a wreck! I'm surprised she could even fit into the TARDIS with all the baggage I had. She didn't need that. She needs you.

The Doctor shook his head. No, that baggage wasn't gone; it was only better hidden. He was still damaged goods, and Rose deserved better than that. She deserved someone who wouldn't clam up any time she tried to ask about his past. Someone who didn't hide behind mindless, meaningless chatter. Someone who was closer to her age. Someone human.

He couldn't give her any of that, but he could give her the freedom to find someone who would.

He jumped as he felt a hand on his arm, interrupting his thoughts. "Doctor," Rose said, her voice low and sultry. He couldn't help but glance over at her to see her eyes peering up at him from beneath her long eyelashes. He looked away quickly, swallowing the lump in his throat. Rose let her hand drift up along his arm lightly, travel across his shoulder, and come to rest on the back of his neck. Her fingers massaged the nape of his neck and tickled the short hairs that grew there. He closed his eyes and bit his lip to fight back the moan that was making its way up his throat. "You can't pretend that it didn't mean anything to you," she said, leaning into his back.

The Doctor opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He mentally shook his head and tried to ignore the miracle her fingers were performing on his neck, searching for words, any words, to say. "You're right," he finally managed. He hated himself so much for this, but it was the only thing he could think of that would get her to stop. It was more than rude. It was devastating. It was going to break her heart. "I can't pretend that." Summoning all of his remaining self-control, he wrenched himself away from her touch and launched himself across the room, putting the console between them, still unable to look at her. "Because it didn't."

Rose was silent for a moment, as he continued to fiddle with the TARDIS's controls. "Well," she finally said, her voice thick with tears. "If that's how you feel."

And then she was gone.