Sometimes the Doctor forgets just how much humans sleep. Never quite could get used to it.

After they're back in the TARDIS, having just saved a solar system from demolition, he leaves Rose to take a shower and rest, or explore the TARDIS as she likes to do – and he's had to rescue her a few times when she's got lost – and crawls under the console to replace a damaged power cell.

When he's finished, a couple of hours and some extra tinkering later, he goes to look for her. He doesn't find her in her bedroom, nor is she in the shower. He sighs, almost imagining finding her in the Cloisters or one of the gardens, wherever she might have wandered off to, when he finds her in the library.

Curled up in an armchair, book clutched to her chest, sound asleep.

He smiles and just watches her for a few minutes. Then he catches himself and gently removes the book from her grip, picks her up, and carries her to her bed. She doesn't wake up on the way and sleeps a good nine hours.

***

One time they watch one of her favourite movies in the room beside the library. He hasn't been there in years – not much of a telly person, no matter how much she makes him watch EastEnders tapes with her when he takes her home.

Takes him a few minutes of tinkering with the wiring, but he in the end he gets it working, and she curls up at his side to watch the tape.

He can't remember the last time he was that comfortable and close to anyone. He can't remember the last time anyone has been that comfortable with him.

What scares him is that he likes it.

He doesn't notice as gradually, her breathing slows and evens and her heart rate slows, but when he looks at her, her eyes are closed and she looks so peaceful he just watches her again.

Then he carries her to bed and resists kissing her forehead when he covers her with her duvet and leaves the room.

***

He takes her to watch a triple sunset on a planet far, far away in a galaxy humans haven't reached yet, even in the seventy-third century - spectacular, huge and red. They park the TARDIS fifty yards away and settle on a cliff top covered in grass – watching beach sunsets is such a human tradition, all that sand just gets you dirty – and she leans her head on his shoulder. They stay that way until it's over and it's twilight.

Then he breaks the silence. "Want to chase it down and watch it again on the other side of the planet? Or go back?"

When he doesn't get a reply, he doesn't need to look down to know she's fallen asleep again, and he smiles in amusement. He waits a few minutes and listens to her breathe.

Then he gently picks her up and carries her all the way back to the TARDIS and to her room. She doesn't wake up once.

He debates taking those jeans off her so she'll sleep more comfortably, and almost does, but then decides she'll be fine.

***

They're being chased by a flock of very strange-looking bird-like aliens. In his defence, he did get the place right this time, and he's fairly certain they're usually peaceful, but they can't be blamed for getting a little pissed off when they find two intruders exploring one of their nests.

So they run back to where they left the TARDIS. He thinks they've lost them now, because he can't hear them anymore, but they run just in case.

A little way away from the TARDIS still, Rose trips and twists her ankle. She curses and apologises and he knows she feels like a useless liability now, so he just tells her it's okay and assures her she's not expected to be made of concrete.

It's obvious the flock is not behind them anymore, so instead of picking her up and carrying her the rest of the way, he kneels beside her first to scan her ankle with the sonic screwdriver first. Broken, he tells her, and she jokes that at it explains the blinding pain at least. He admires the brave face she puts on anyway.

He picks her up and carries her back, and she loops her arms around his neck, resting her head on his shoulder. He tries to take away some of her pain but in the end reconciles to the better decision being just letting sleep take it away – it only takes a little bit of concentration.

He doesn't stop at the console to take them to the Vortex – doesn't matter yet, they're safe in the TARDIS anyway – but takes her straight to the medical lab. She's still asleep when he lays her down and he leaves her under the tissue-regenerator for the night. He's afraid she might wake up when he's straightening her ankle and she twitches – but she stays out. He hopes she has a good dream tonight.

He hopes she has nice dreams every night.

***

Sometimes he envies the escapism she can find in sleep; he doesn't sleep more than he needs to and he rarely needs to. Doesn't get worn out as quickly as humans, either. And he can't remember the last time his sleep wasn't fitful and filled with screams and flames and guilt and war.

She tells him to sleep sometimes, and he brushes her off saying he sleeps when he needs to, but sometimes that's a lie.

Sometimes he doesn't go to sleep until he absolutely has to.

He knows she's only pretending to buy it sometimes.

***

Sometimes she's worried about the Doctor.

He thinks she can't see it, but she knows when he's tired and she knows when he's fighting sleep. He doesn't do as good a job as he thinks hiding it. She tells him to go to bed and he doesn't look her in the eye when he brushes her off. She wishes he were more honest with her.

She wishes she could help him.

One day, after she'd for once insisted on cooking a proper dinner for them and damn all his claims of not doing domestic, she walks into the library where she saw him go in a little while earlier to tell him it's ready and finds him asleep on the sofa, book in hand. She pauses in surprise for a few seconds, then puts the book away and watches him, kneeling beside the sofa. One of his hands is on his stomach and the other is dangling just so off the edge of the couch, and she can't help but take it in hers and hold it.

She can't quite believe he's finally sleeping. She smiles and feels protectiveness wash over her; he looks so vulnerable like this, the important and powerful alien he thinks he is. She rises and tenderly presses her lips to his forehead before letting go of his hand, instead moving to settle in her armchair to watch him for just a bit longer.

Dinner can wait.

***

He's not sure how he fell asleep last night, but he wakes up and quickly ascertains that he's in the library. Yes, he remembers, must have just put his head down for a few seconds while looking up the history of Pterosphoton Minor. He ought to take her there some time.

He feels rested. Surprisingly, he can't remember any bad dreams, as if by magic someone watching over him had taken it all away. The ceiling above him doesn't disclose any secrets, but when he sits up and turns his head he catches Rose's brilliant smile and, smiling back, he knows that she's all the peace he needs.

-fin-