"You left us." The Doctor sat up, confused, and closed his book. Rose was standing behind him, her voice shaky.

"Rose, it's late. Well, relatively speaking. You should get some sleep," he said, looking over his shoulder. Rose was in her pyjamas, hair messed up, mascara smudged down her face.

"You said that..." Rose trailed off, leaving the sentence unfinished. "You left us, Doctor."

"Rose-" the Doctor began, standing up and taking a step toward her.

"No, you left me. For her," she said, and there was no question as to who she referring.

"Rose, I didn't-" the Doctor tried again, reaching out for her, as she took a step back.

"You loved her. I don't mind, but don't deny it." There was a pause while the Doctor shook his head. "But you let her in. You don't let anyone in. You don't..." She took a deep breath. "You don't let me in."

"Rose," the Doctor said seriously, "listen to me, Rose," he said. "What I felt for her doesn't even compare to what I feel for you. And I definitely did not let her in." But Rose wasn't listening. She had already taken off down the nearest corridor, and the Doctor could hear her crying. He followed her, catching up to her easily. He pinned her against the wall, leaning in close, their noses almost touching.

"Rose," he tried again.

"No, I don't want to listen!" she cried, twisting and turning, but the Doctor's arms around her sides held her still.

"Then don't," he said. Rose took deep, calming breaths. "Stay still," ordered the Doctor after a minute. His hands left her sides, but his body trapped her there as he raised his fingers to her temples. The pair closed their eyes as the telepathy began, and Rose stifled a gasp.

The Doctor is standing in front of a fireplace, staring at a young woman. This is the little girl I left just a few seconds ago? Well, that's time travel for you. Wibbly-wobbly, he thinks.

"So many questions, so little time," she says, and leans in, taking him by surprise, kissing him hard.

(The Doctor feels Rose tremble, but he continues the memory, allowing her full access to what he had been thinking at the time.)

Blimey! She's kissing me? Okay, why's she kissing me? She's almost as good as Rose. No, stop! Blonde too, like Rose. But not like Rose, no! No, no, stop kissing me! Reinette, the little french girl. R, R, R. Reinette, Rose. Rose. No, Reinette - but it doesn't matter! A servent yells something from just outside the room, and Reinette stops the kiss, leaving the room without so much as a backwards glance.

"Poisson?" The Doctor's mind is racing, around and around in circles. (Rose can only just make out a few words, like 'Rose', 'Reinette', 'Poisson' and 'kissing'.) He looks amazed. "No... no, no, no, no, no way, Reinette Poisson? Later Madame Etoiles? Later still mistress of Louis the Fifteenth, uncrowned Queen of France? Actress, artist, musician, dancer, courtesan? Fantastic gardener!" He stops, bemused, grinning like a lunatic.

"Who the hell are you?" the servent asks, frowning.

"I'm the Doctor, and I just snogged Madame de Pompadour!" he declares, then flicks a switch on the fireplace.

"Rose," the Doctor whispered in her ear. His eyes were still closed, but Rose had opened hers. "It was so easy, just to... to not do anything about it. To... to forget about you - though, you can see I didn't do a great job of that - and forget how hard it would be to do that with you, and..." He swallowed nervously, and began to show her something else.

Rose and Mickey leave through the window, and the Doctor turns to Reinette.

"Reinette, you're going to have to trust me. I need to find out what they're looking for, there's only one way I can do that. Won't hurt a bit," he promises, then raises his fingers to her temple. The pair close their eyes.

Reinette's mind is full of memories and ideas and ambitions. It's cluttered, but not as bad as the Doctor expects.

"Fireplace man... You are inside my mind," Reinette says, and the Doctor searches carefully through her, coming to a messy spot, thoughts and feelings messed up and jumbled all over the place.

"Oh dear, Reinette. You've had some cowboys in here," he informs her.

"You are in my memories. You walk among them," she whispers. The Doctor can feel her surprise, her shock, and her trust. It makes him uneasy, how much she trusts him already, how she's grown up her whole life with him, yet he's barely known her for an hour.

"If there's anything you don't want me to see, just imagine a door and close it. I won't look. Ooh.. actually... there's a door just there. You might want to clo- ooh. Actually, several." She's letting him see her, in private - no, showing him, pushing the memories into his mind. He looks away, closes the door for her.

"To walk among the memories of another living soul... do you ever get used to this? " she asks, and a chill spreads over the Doctor.

"I don't make a habit of it," he says. Memories are welling up, of the last time he used his telepathy... The Timelords were all interconnected, and the emptiness still hurt.

"How can you resist?" she asks, and the Doctor's mind involuntarily flicks over to Rose, before he answers, I'm not sure. But he doesn't speak this aloud, doesn't let her hear, and instead asks his own question.

"What age are you?" he asks, feeling that was the area they were probing.

"So impertinent a question so early in the conversation. How promising," she says, and the Doctor sighs mentally.

"No, not my question- theirs," he explains. "You're twenty-three and for some reason, that means you're not old enough." Reinette flinches, a pained expression crossing her face. "Sorry. You might find old memories reawakening. Side effect," he says quickly. What has he made her remember?

"Oh, such a lonely childhood..."

"It'll pass," he assures her. "Stay with me."

"Oh, Doctor. So lonely. So very, very alone," she whispers, and it sets off alarm bells in his head, but he can't figure out why.

"What do you mean, alone? You've never been alone in your life-" His eyes snap open, shocked. "When did you start calling me Doctor?" he asks.

(Rose doesn't need to hear his thoughts to see the panic, the confusion and the hurt, but she hears them anyway.)

"Such a lonely little boy. Lonely then and lonelier now. How can you bear it?" she asks, and the Doctor steps away from her abruptly, the telepathy ending with the loss of contact.

"How did you do that?" he asks urgently, and he's scared.

"A door once opened can be stepped through in either direction," she says, looking at the lonely Timelord in front of her. "Oh, Doctor," she says softly, stepping toward him, "Dance with me."

"I can't," the Doctor says warningly - it's not a game anymore. It never was, with her.

"Dance with me," she says, almost commands. His thoughts flick over to Rose again.

"This is the night you dance with the King," he says. Maybe reminding her of her ambitions would-

"Then first, I shall make him jealous," she declares, interrupting his thoughts.

"I can't," the Doctor says, even firmer now, and he can't stop his entire consciousness being diverted to Rose, and he mentally scowls at the part of him that was wishing it was Rose before him, commanding him to dance with her.

"Doctor..." she says, "Doctor who? It's more than just a secret, isn't it?"

"What did you see?" he asks, his voice breaking slightly. He's scared, petrified of this little French girl who so easily looked into his mind.

"That there comes a time, Time Lord, when every lonely little boy must learn how to dance."

Memories stir within him; of his wife, back on Gallifrey, who he loved despite the arranged marriage. The memories scan through centuries of travelling, lingering on a moment; him in a different body, much older, much wiser, much lonelier, dancing with Rose in the TARDIS; the memories move again, not even a year this time, just before he regenerates, and he's kissing her, all golden light and power and knowing streaming from her head to his. He realises, that out of everyone he's ever seen, or danced with, or travelled with, he'd pick Rose, every time. And now there's no denying it; he loves Rose, he truly does, and it took an innocent French girl - woman, really - to make him realise that denying it can't, won't work. He follows her, lost in his thoughts, in the vain hope that he could still forget this.

That's what Reinette saw, he realised. She saw Rose.

He does not dance. The Doctor watches, drowning daiquiri after daiquiri, shutting down his liver temporarily; he'll be able to become sober in a matter of seconds, if he chooses.

Rose gasped, still not opening her eyes, as the memory faded. The Doctor opened his, then rested his forehead on hers, moving his hands down to rest on her shoulders. He watched her carefully, afraid he'd shown her too much.

"I didn't- I thought you-"

"Shh," the Doctor said. He put his finger back up to her temples.

He is staring at Rose, staring at her, and he knows the only way to set things right. History must be preserved, he tells himself, but he's kidding himself if that's the only reason he's saving Reinette. He wants to take Rose with him, or give her a goodbye kiss, at least, but he can't. Mickey's watching, for one thing, but it's not that. If he said goodbye, she'd know, and she'd follow. And he can't have her follow, as much as he wants her to - wants to introduce her to Reinette, never wants to leave her - if he's going to take the slow path, he'd do it with her. But he has to leave her. It wouldn't be safe to have her there anyway, but she probably wouldn't survive the crash through the window. Timelords were made for time travel, humans weren't. And he couldn't leave Mickey by himself, anyway.

So he jumped on Arthur without a word and crashed through the window, already regretting it - but he couldn't let anyone see. He was the Doctor; he was always alright.

Another memory, later on, began to form in Rose's mind; the Doctor had more to show her.

He's looking up at the stars, as he used to do on Gallifrey; if he ignored the constellations he could almost pretend he was back there.

"You know all their names, don't you? I saw that in your mind. The name of every star," Reinette says, and the Doctor is snapped out of his thoughts.

"What's in a name? Names are just titles. Titles don't tell you anything," he says, and it's so true. 'Forever', it's just a word.

"Like, 'the Doctor'," she says.

"Like, 'Madame de Pompadour'," he counters.

"I have often wished to see those stars a little closer. Just as you have, I think," she admits, but it doesn't feel like admitting anything.

"From time to time," he says offhandedly. All the time, he thinks, every second.

"In saving me, you trapped yourself. Did you know that would happen?" Reinette asks, though the Doctor suspects she knows the answer.

"Mm, pretty much."

"Yet, still you came." The Doctor can't help feeling pleased with himself, being so unselfish. If he'd had it his way, he'd be back there with Rose and the TARDIS. And Mickey.

"Yeah, I did, didn't I? Catch me doing that again."

"There were many doors between my world and yours. Can you not use one of the others?" she asks, but she doesn't want him to leave.

"When the mirror broke, the shock will have severed all the links with the ship. There'll be a few more broken mirrors and torn tapestries around here, I'm afraid. Wherever there was a time window. I'll- I'll, er... pay for any damage." He pauses as Reinette laughs. "Um... oh, that's a thought, I'm gonna need money. I was always a bit vague about money. Where do you get money?"

"So, here you are. My lonely angel. Stuck on the slow path, with me," she says. His hearts cry out for Reinette, for he loves her, and part of him wants to stay - but he can't. History, for one thing, but that wouldn't stop him; Rose would. Because he loves her more, far more than he ever could Reinette.

"Yep. The slow path." He hides his misery well. "Here's to the slow path."

"It's a pity... I think I would've enjoyed the slow path," Reinette says.

"Well, I'm not going anywhere." And that sentence alone makes him want to break.

"Oh, aren't you? Take my hand."

"She saved you, brought you back," Rose whispered. "And then you went back, and she was-"

"Dead," the Doctor finished for her, his voice hollow. "But do you see, Rose? Do you see that she wasn't-" he stopped, unsure of what to say. "Compared to you, what I felt for her was nothing," he said, and Rose shuddered. "Look," he whispered, his fingers shaking as he pressed them slightly harder against her temples. He leaned down, even closer, so that their lips were mere millimetres away. His eyes still closed, he let out a shaky breath, changing the position of his hands ever so slightly so that he could angle her head. The Doctor closed the final gap between his lips and hers, kissing her lightly. He stepped back, still kissing her, allowing Rose room to move, to pull away if she wanted. But Rose used her new freedom to wind her hands up the Doctor's back, and pulled him back toward her, deepening the kiss. They pulled back, panting slightly, eyes wide open. The Doctor pressed his forehead against hers.

"Mm, I was right," he said quietly. "Much better than Reinette." And before Rose could get a word in, the Doctor leant down and kissed her again. Rose pulled back gently.

"Doctor?" she half-whispered. She could feel the panic in him. "Your fingers are still on my head," she pointed out.

"Oh. I suppose they are," he replied nervously, bringing his hands down to rest on her shoulders. She shuddered as his fingers left her temples, and he wondered why.

"It's just- the telepathy thing was still-"

"Ah," the Doctor said, realising. "Yeah, I... I didn't ever close the connection, see? And then when we-" he coughed, "um, when, yeah. It doesn't take any effort to keep the link open, just to open or close it. And, well, I wasn't really concentrating on that while we were, um, so that's why it stayed opened. I was a bit distracted."

"I saw that," Rose said, and the Doctor blushed slightly. He paused for a moment, looking into her eyes.

"I've ruined it, haven't I?"

"Ruined what?" Rose asked.

"Our friendship," he sighed.

"Yeah, I suppose you have. It's in shambles," she admitted, unsmiling. The Doctor swallowed and let go of her, turning away sadly. Rose reached out and caught his hand and he turned back to face her. Rose flinched at the sadness in his eyes.

"Good thing we were never really just friends," she said quietly, and the sadness in the Doctor's eyes vanished, replaced with surprise. He pulled her back in close to him.

"Rose-"

"It's okay, that you loved - still love her, you know," she told him. "You've been around for 900 years, and there are so many amazing people in the universe. I realised that after Sarah-Jane."

"I never loved Sarah-Jane."

"Doctor." The Doctor looked into her eyes again, but turned away before he spoke.

"Yeah, I suppose I did. Do," he admitted, more to himself than anyone. "But, not like- not like you," he said. "Not like this," he whispered, pulling her in closer, pressing against her. Rose reached up, taking a deep breath, and pressed her lips to his. He responded immediately, kissing her passionately, before pulling back earlier than either of them liked.

"We- Rose, I want- We can't," he said sadly. "I mean, we shouldn't," he clarified. "Really, really shouldn't." Rose didn't miss the way he didn't meet her eyes when he said this, the way hadn't let go her, but was holding her tighter, and managed a half smile.

"Sometimes, Doctor, I think you need to be a little more selfish," she told him.

"Now there's something that you don't hear every day," he grinned.

"No, but really," Rose said seriously. "It's okay to be selfless - brilliant to be selfless, and you have to be, otherwise things'll mess up, yeah? But here, now, things'll mess up if you don't be selfish, you got that?" she said sternly, and the Doctor looked at her, slightly bewildered, slightly awed, and slightly thankful. Instead of replying, he leaned in slowly. Too slowly, Rose decided, and leaned up herself, crushing her lips against his.

"We should stop," the Doctor said after a moment, pulling back slightly. "Don't want Mister Mickey walking in on us," he explained, and Rose relaxed, smiling. The smile dropped from her face.

"Oh, Mickey," Rose said softly. The Doctor looked at her sadly. "We split up a while ago, but-"

"You split up?" the Doctor interrupted suddenly, eyebrows raised.

"Yeah," she said. "You didn't know? Didn't think I went around kissing random guys while I was still in a relationship, did you?" she teased.

"Oh, so am I just a random guy now?" he shot back, mock offended. His eyes widened. "Or have you been kissing other guys while we've been travelling?"

"No, just you," she promised. "You're right though-"

"'Course I am. What about?"

"It's late," Rose finished. "Relatively speaking," she added, just as the Doctor was about to interrupt. "Night." Rose paused before she left, pressing her forehead against the Doctor's for one long moment. She thought about what she'd been shown, what he'd told her in everything but words, and took a deep breath.

"Love you," she said softly, kissing him quickly, before turning and leaving. He wouldn't say it back, she knew, but he didn't have to.

So, this is my second post-GitF fic. I personally like the other one better, but I'll put this one up anyway. Still not sure about it, but... *shrugs*

Remember to review! (Ah, an alliteration. I adore alliterations.)