Disclaimer: Doctor Who is the property of the BBC and no infringement is intended. Thanks, as always, to Sonic Jules, whose encouragement and support keep me writing.

He kept her hand in his until they entered the ship, then he pulled her into an embrace. Rose knew he was expecting her to cry, but she'd been weak before, and she would not give in to such a human failing now. Instead she wrapped her arms around him and pressed her cheek against the cool leather of his jacket. She felt his hand come to rest over her head. He was waiting for the eruption, the inevitable storm of emotions.

The tempest did not come. She felt tears start to well, and her throat tightened with the beginnings of a sob. But she suppressed it, drew a deep breath or two, blinked hard three times, then lifted her head to offer him a smile.

"You all right?" the Doctor asked. His brow was taut.

"Yeah, fine."

He seemed almost relieved, and Rose was glad she hadn't given in to the tears. He nodded then shambled up the ramp.

"I think I know just what you need," he said, his tone lighter now.

"Yeah? An' what's that?"

He grinned at her, clearly immensely pleased with himself. "Chips! Best in the universe, I promise."

They'd strolled the boardwalk and eaten two helpings of the crispy, hot chips. The beach was nearly deserted in the cool, late-autumn evening, but Rose didn't mind. When the Doctor sauntered off to fetch more of the tangy sauce, she stood looking out over the grey sea, realizing that she wanted to be alone.

When he returned, sauce in hand, she smiled thinly but let him have the remainder of the chips.

"Was I right?" he was asking with egregious enthusiasm. "Aren't these the best? The secret's in the frying. They fry 'em twice, at just the right temperature an' with just the right amount of moisture, an' it gives 'em this amazin' crispiness."

Rose nodded half-heartedly, wanting to share his zeal but not quite possessing the energy to do so. "Yeah, they're really good."

"Understatement if I ever heard one. Now what d'you say to a nice Abbey ale? Flavour's different than anything else you've had because they allow the local yeasts to enter the vats an'—"

She tried to smile; she really did. But her efforts were wan. "Another time?" she replied.

"It's been a long day," he acknowledged. "C'mon." He tossed the last few chips into a bin and took her hand.

They walked together over the cool sand and back to the TARDIS, leaving Belgium behind.

She thought she'd finally cry once she was alone in her room. But Rose felt only a peculiar numbness in her chest and a dull ache behind her eyes. She waited for the tears, thinking of her father's face and his words, knowing that she'd been given a rare and priceless opportunity but wondering whether she'd rather it never happened at all. Remorse clenched at her, yet still she did not cry.

Finally she curled onto her side, hugging a pillow as she permitted her eyes to close. She slept fitfully, never quite slipping into deep slumber but unable to wake fully, either. When she finally opened her eyes and looked at her bedside clock, she found that it was morning, or the ship's equivalent thereof, and sat up slowly. Lethargy made her limbs heavy, and there was that tightness in her throat and chest, but tears did not follow.

When she shuffled out into the Console Room sometime later, she found the Doctor busy with an open panel on the wall.

"Mornin'," she greeted softly.

He looked over at her, his eyes bright and appraising. "Morning. How'd you sleep?"

She shrugged. She knew she couldn't hide the slight darkness and puffiness surrounding her eyes. "Okay, I s'pose."

He nodded. "You have any trouble sleeping, let me know an' I'll give you something."

"I'll be all right."

He stepped away from the panel and came to rest his hands upon her shoulders. "I know you will. But sometimes… well, it takes a little time."

"Yeah. So, where're we off to today?"

"First stop, the kitchen to get some food into you. After that, reckon we'll see what strikes our fancy."

"You cookin'?"

"Yep."

"Got anything for indigestion?" she teased.

"Oi! Just you wait, Rose Tyler. I'm gonna make you eat your words."

The way her stomach was feeling, she wasn't sure she could eat anything, but she followed him down the corridor and pasted a smile upon her face.

He took her to a planet with pink skies and huge, docile birds upon which they rode to soar through the clouds and dip over the lavender hillsides. It was thrilling and exhilarating, and for a little while Rose enjoyed it. By the end of the day, however, she found herself tired and wanting the solitude of her room once more. She'd felt an urge to cry repeatedly as they swept through the skies, but she'd suppressed it and focused upon the beauty before her instead, because the Doctor hadn't brought her here to mourn; he'd brought her to help her forget.

When they returned to the TARDIS, she sat with him before the console for some time, listening to stories about other giant creatures—grasshoppers, butterflies, squirrel-like things, and serpents—until she began to nod off.

"Rose," he said gently, wrapping a hand around her shoulder.

She looked up at him, blinking blearily. "Mmn?"

"Get to bed," he commanded kindly.

She nodded. "Yeah. 'Night."

As she stood he reached for her hand to stop her momentarily. "Remember, if you have any trouble fallin' asleep, come an' tell me."

"Okay." Of course she wouldn't; she wasn't that weak.

As she was preparing for bed, she felt the tears welling and the pressure in her chest. By the time she crawled beneath the duvet, she was ready for a good cry. Yet all she managed was a few dry, ragged sobs. Her fist curled around the sheet as her heart began to pound.

The next day saw the Doctor and Rose at a place resembling a ski resort. Snow covered the ground and tall, majestic mountains towered all around them. Their first stop had been for delicious hot chocolate, then he'd taken her to the kiosk to rent the strangely flexible, almost liquid ski-like things.

They'd glided over the slopes, and after a few minutes she'd had no fears of falling. The ski-thingies apparently melded to the snow somehow, encouraging fast, fluid movement with almost no risk of a tumble. Rose found herself laughing more than once, and the Doctor was clearly having a great deal of fun, too.

They were just whooshing back toward the kiosk when her foot somehow slipped out of the ski. Rose lost her balance, falling to her side on the thick, cold snow. She gave a little yelp.

The Doctor was kneeling beside her in an instant. "Rose! You all right?"

"Yeah, think so. My foot slipped."

He felt along her leg and foot quickly. "Nothing's broken. How's it feel?"

"'S all right," she replied. Honestly the ache in her chest was worse, and she realized that she was about to cry. But that wouldn't do; she couldn't break down in front of the Doctor.

He helped her to her feet, and she managed to swallow back to sob and blink away the tears. By the time they'd returned to the TARDIS, her body was aching dully and she felt quite chilled. She must've twisted something or fallen harder than she thought. Still, she knew she was fine—nothing a hot bath wouldn't fix. She could use a good night's sleep, too, but she had a feeling that would elude her again.

She bid the Time Lord good night and retreated to her room. She soaked in the tub for a little while, but once the water stopped steaming she began to shiver, and her position was making her lower back hurt, and damn, there was that sob pushing against her chest and throat again, and why the hell wouldn't it just come out?

Rose sank onto her bed and closed her dry eyes, wondering if she'd ever feel normal again.

To be continued...