Authors note: Be relatively kind; I'm not a writer and this is my first fanfic, so I'm slowly making my way through it. This will probably be M+ rated
in the future, so be forewarned.
Disclaimer: I own none of the characters involved
Thanks ^_^

It was quiet. Unusually quiet, actually. That was something of a rarity ever since Rose had first grabbed the Doctors hand and dove into that blue box the first time. Since that day, most of her time had been consumed by running, screaming, planning, saving the day, being saved and more running. With her old doctor, at least there had been quiet moments in between; not with this one! Sometimes she wondered if he talked so much just to avoid being alone with his thoughts. Where was he, anyway? Rose looked up from her book and looked around her room. It could do with a window; she missed that. What would a window on the TARDIS overlook though, the time vortex? Never mind, she thought. Probably better this way.

Slowly, she laid her book down on her comforter and tiptoed down the hallway, the metal gratings cold on her bare feet. Hmm. Not in the console room. If he wasn't in the library, she wouldn't even know where to begin looking for him amid the endless rooms. She checked the extensive library for anywhere a Time Lord might be hiding. Nothing. There were at least a dozen seats in this room, which made Rose wonder how many people he entertained at once in this room. She picked up the book that laid open by his favorite chair, careful to hold his place, and sat down in his spot thumbing through the book.

The whole room smelled like him, and she thought back to the last time she had found him here, kicked back with those glasses perched on the end of his nose. He was so engrossed in his book that the universe could have ended and he wouldn't have noticed. She closed her eyes and rested her head on the arm of the chair, kicking her feet over the other side. The book in her hand was some sort of alien mathematics book. How did he get so immersed in this kind of stuff? The more she thought about it, at over 900 years old, what was left for him to learn?

She still had a hard time believing his age. Nothing in his demeanor, sense of humor, and certainly not his body hinted to that kind of time. Occasionally she could see it deep in his eyes, when she felt she'd said something she oughtn't have. She knew he'd been through so many things before they had met and silently kicked herself each time she unwittingly sparked his memory to a moment he'd rather forget.

Closing the book, she laid it down and chose the next one in the pile. She was surprised to discover it was a plain hard-bound sketch book; she hadn't even known he could draw. The first few pages were random landscapes each laid in a rich charcoal, a few of which she recognized. Next were a few doodles of the console and tweaks he seemed to be thinking of making, a few alien figures and some script in a loopy, circular lettering. About halfway through, she came across a rough sketch of herself so exquisitely done that it surprised her. The next pages contained several more of Rose in various poses. Where was Sarah-Jane? Why hadn't he drawn any of the other companions that had traveled with him. 'Maybe he meant it when he said I was different' she half said aloud. Nah, silly to think that way; there are thousands of books in this room, and if this one is any indication, he must draw fairly often. There were probably others somewhere.

She slipped the sketch book under the weird math book and tried to replicate them the way she'd found them. It would be hard to explain why she was snooping around here in the first place. She stretched, then rose from his chair to leave, closing the door behind her. She had no intentions of getting lost but was confident that the TARDIS would not allow her to wander the corridors forever, so she continued her search for the Doctor. It was very unusual that he had left her alone this whole time.

Rose had spent long enough on the TARDIS to call it 'home' but had never really explored the rooms; there never seemed to be enough time between travels. She tried a few additional rooms and found nothing of note; the odd spare room here, a nice garden room there. At the end of one of corridors she found possibly the largest closet she'd ever seen. 'What an atrocious coat!' she exclaimed, pinching at the rainbow patchwork monstrosity in front of her. Rose suddenly got a mental picture of her Doctor adorning it and had to stifle a laugh. Clothes and coats of all styles and sizes filled the racks. If he has so many things, why does he stick to that same brown suit? Not that she minded... it showed off his assets quite nicely. She pushed that thought to the back of her mind, pulling down an impossibly long scarf. She wrapped it around herself half a dozen times and caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror before laughing aloud and putting it back.

The next room she came to had a dark wooden door which took her a bit of strength to shoulder open. The interior of the room was as dark as the door. The few little light sconces on the wall did little to brighten it, despite all their effort. Rose looked around in wonder and knew instantly that this was his room. She sat down on the edge of his bed, noting that he really must sleep as little as he said; the bed looked immaculate and hardly used. She spotted a large dark leather chair across the room and drew in a sharp breath. Laid out across the chair was his suit, the tie draped over one arm, his coat across the other. Right in front of the chair, kicked off in a heap, were his white trainers. Wherever he was, he wasn't wearing any of these things and as much as she might like to imagine how he'd look without them, she didn't want to surprise him in his own room. Again, this would he awkward to explain.

She quickly jumped up and smoothed the wrinkles out of the bed where she'd been sitting. A bed that's seldom used and suddenly wrinkled would raise an eyebrow that was usually raised anyway. Satisfied with her efforts, she quietly closed the heavy door and jumped back into the TARDIS hall. The responsible part of her brain suggested she make her way back to her own bedroom to keep herself out of trouble. The human part of it suggested she figure out what it was that a Time Lord does when his clothes are on a chair. She shrugged; she was only human.