It sat there staring at her as if it had a mind of its own. She had gathered it up with the rest of his clothes, but it didn't belong with the rest of the clothes. It had belonged to her doctor. It was her first doctor. And now it belonged to her. That was the way of things. At least, that's how it would be. She set her chin defiantly, daring anyone to come between her and the object which now held her attention. A simple black leather jacket.

She moved to the edge of the bed and sat down next to the jacket, staring at it. Nothing happened. No mysterious disappearances. No glowing or golden sparks. No noise. No laughter. No smile. No love. Just a jacket.

She reached out a tentative hand and touched it only to jump a bit as if she expected it to shock her. After seeing it…no him really…go up in golden flames and crackles of light, she would have thought that the jacket would have shown some aftereffects. But no, she realized as her hand wandered over the soft worn leather longingly. She was the only one with aftereffects. Her hand trembled on the arm of the jacket and she wished that it would fill up and she could feel solid muscle beneath it once more.

The Doctor, the other Doctor, was waiting back at home. With Mum. And Mickey. She should really go back and make sure he was alright. With all the alien whispering and Christmas and trees gone wild…it wasn't good to be gone for too long. But still…her tears clogged in her throat and she let out a strangled little cry. Letting go of all pretense, she grabbed the jacket and pulled it to her chest, bringing her legs up and wrapping her entire self around its soft warmth. And then the tears overcame her and she could fight them no more. Her Doctor was gone. He'd left her alone with a stranger. And she didn't know how she'd ever forgive him. Or live without him.

Her first night back on the Tardis with the Doctor, the new Doctor, felt off. She couldn't explain it and didn't quite understand it, but the ship felt as strange as the brown eyed Time Lord standing before her flashing his big bright smile.

He'd already won her over. She knew that when he'd looked down at her after the Sycorax had departed, dark brown eyes probing hers in concern. She'd let her smile widen with a shy blush that she quickly pressed into his upper arm in embarrassment. He had smiled and squeezed her hand reassuringly as he pulled her just a bit closer to him.
And then she had known, somewhere in the inner workings of her brain or her heart (she couldn't tell which) that this was the same person who had first grasped her hand and told her to run. The same man who could make her heart flip with a grin. New grin. Same man.

As she wandered to her room, she wondered briefly if the Tardis had changed when the Doctor had. Something about the lighting was different and the ship had a different tone to her hum. The Doctor, the other Doctor, had told her that the Tardis translated for her and she knew that the ship was in her mind, but it seemed now more a part of her mind than some alien invasion. It was as if the ship was a part of her now and she was a part of it. She sighed and rubbed her eyes tiredly as she closed the door behind her. All so new and tiring…she needed a rest.

She hadn't slept more than a few winks since Satellite Five. She was completely and thoroughly exhausted, but everything that had happened since then had combined to create an incredibly stimulating antithesis to anything resembling rest or relaxation. She'd even fainted after Cassandra had left her body simply because she didn't have the strength.

Now, as she stared at her bed and contemplated the stress of trying to relax versus the benefits of sleep, she wondered if she might be able to just tumble into bed and forget everything for a while. She moved to the bathroom, brushed her teeth, dropped her shoes and jeans and literally fell into the soft warm comfort of her bed.

Except, she realized after a few minutes, there wasn't comfort in her bed. As she settled into the peace and quiet of her room, her head exploded into its own rerun of the past few days and try as she might, she couldn't turn it off. Her old Doctor facing Daleks. Herself watching him burn in bright golden light. The new Doctor lying in bed near death. The sycorax. Talking cats. Cassandra. Zombies. Too much!

She pressed her hands against her grainy tired eyes and pressed her lips together in a despairing growl that she hoped would drown out the noise in her brain. It didn't and soon she realized that she was up and wandering back and forth in her bedroom, pacing the small space madly. She stopped by the foot of her bed and leaned against it and when she did, her hands brushed something familiar. She closed her eyes and pressed her hand fully into the soft warm leather. Immediately she felt a soothing peace roll through her body. A familiar peace that she hadn't had in far too long.

She picked up the jacket and after less than a moment's hesitation, she pressed her hands into the sleeves and soon found herself wearing it. She was, for a moment, wrapped in his arms, love and comfort once again. Without hesitation, she lay down on her bed and instantly fell asleep, the scent of her old doctor filling her senses and her mind with everything she had been lacking.

Rose stared at the wall for a very long time. She didn't know how long. She didn't care. The Doctor had left her. Again. He'd raced right through this wall and left her. For a second time, she'd been abandoned by the Doctor. New Doctor. Same issues. She didn't move. Not one muscle twitched as she looked at the wall before her. Mickey was asking something. She didn't hear his questions and again, she didn't care. The Doctor was gone. This time, she'd watched him choose to leave.

Mickey's voice rose to an elevated pitch that broke Rose's reverie. Angrily she turned to him and barked something that made his voice stop. Or at least get softer. She turned back to the wall.

He was gone. Again. And now she was here. Lost in time and space. So much for her Mum sayin' she liked this Doctor better than the other one. Wait until she heard about this. Leavin' Rose and Mickey behind on some alien space ship with people parts cooked in to boot.

She backed up, her eyes never leaving the wall, hoping that by some miracle, the Doctor would materialize out of the void in front of her. She bumped against a step and stumbled backwards into a seat that was soft and warm. Tears sprang to her eyes and she leaped to her feet to realize that the Doctor had left his coat behind. Tossed across the chair as a last minute decision, the coat now taunted Rose. Another Doctor. Another coat. The only comfort available to her. A sob caught in her throat and she refused to touch it. This time wasn't going to be like last. He was coming back for her. He'd never leave her behind. He just wouldn't do that. He said he'd take care of her. He'd be back.

She stared at the coat in the same way she'd stared at the wall. In one moment she looked as if she wanted the coat to come to life and be filled with the Doctor and as if, when it did, it would bite her. Then she turned her back on the coat and left it lying exactly where he'd tossed it. She refused to touch it. He would get it when he came back.

She stood rooted as the minutes, and then hours ticked past. Sarah Jane said he'd abandoned her but at least it'd been on earth. Not…off in God knows where. Or was this beyond where God knows? She had no idea. She didn't know what to do except wait. And hope. And avoid the coat.

It mocked her, lying there tossed carelessly across a chair. Dark thoughts rumbled through her mind comparing herself to the coat — tossed aside just as easily. And yet she knew he wouldn't do that. She knew he wouldn't be that way. She knew. But the coat…it held everything counter to what she knew. It was evidence. Tangible proof. It was there. She was here. Both were alone and abandoned. For a moment she felt a kinship with the coat and very nearly turned around to look at it again, but she stopped herself. She would not seek comfort from a coat again. It would not happen.

The Doctor's voice echoed through the hallways of the ship and Rose thought she might be dreaming. It wasn't until Mickey's head popped up that she realized it was real. Rose reached the chair in less than a heartbeat and grabbed the coat, running at full pace to return it to its owner. Her Doctor.

The Doctor could find no comfort anywhere in the Tardis. It rattled without Rose. There was no joy or light. He felt a comforting hum roll through the ship and rested a hand against the wall in response. They needed no words he and the Tardis. In the end, he and Rose hadn't needed words either, so closely linked they'd become.

After the battle at Canary Wharf, he'd sought solace in the ship and had found minor portions. Not nearly enough to soothe the ache of losing Rose so quickly. So unexpectedly. When he'd said goodbye to her and made the choice, he'd been prepared. But her return… that smile…those eyes…he'd been lost completely in her. And he'd hoped. He'd believed for a short breath of time and space that he might be allowed some small portion of good in the scheme of things. And he'd been happy. Truly happy. Watching her lose her grip on the lever even as she sacrificed herself for all of the human race, he'd been more in love with her than he'd realized and more frightened than he could remember.

He was in a daze. Everything sounded hollow. No, everything was hollow. Words and thoughts came to him as if through a long echoing hallway. He felt as if he were looking at the world through a fog and haze. The Tardis practically sang with Rose's loss. Rose had become that vital to both of them.

As he wandered the control room, he inhaled deeply. She hadn't been gone long enough to lose her essence. He could still smell her. He slid his hand along the railing, startled by a soft warm feeling that didn't quite fit. And then he saw it. Rose's sweater. She'd left it behind, tossed on the railing. For a moment it echoed so strongly with Rose and Home that he thought he might collapse under the weight of it. She'd made the Tardis home. She'd made him home. She'd proven that with her choice and her speech to her mother. And try as he could, he couldn't send her away and keep her safe without her putting herself right back in harm's way. He smiled and ran his fingers over the sweatshirt. For an instant he remembered what it felt like full of Rose in his arms and his breath caught in his throat. He wouldn't feel her in his arms again.

He lifted the sweatshirt and pressed his face into it, inhaling the fragrance and feeling of Rose and for a moment, there was peace in his tortured soul. He took it to the jump seat with him and settled in, sweatshirt still tightly gripped in his hand. It would be a while before he'd be ready to let go of it. Until he was, he'd take whatever comfort he could find. Even from a sweatshirt.