Chapter Text
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He and Rose shared their first kiss after meeting the Dalek. They’d been dancing around whatever this was between them since the moment they met, and this adventure finally shattered the walls of their denial.
Bringing Adam onboard had been a mistake. She would make sure the Doctor dropped him off as soon as possible—after she’d had a chance to show off a little. That was why she’d invited him in the first place. Not because she liked him. Not even close.
Back in the bunker, Adam had asked if she and the Doctor were a thing. She’d said yes—mostly just to get him to leave her alone. Not that he listened. He’d decided that he was the better man for her, not some older guy. So much confidence with so little to back it up. He genuinely thought he could win her over, especially after her so-called “boyfriend” trapped her in a basement with a murderous robot.
Riding that wave of misguided ego, he’d made a pass at her the second they reached his new room. The TARDIS, ever protective, responded immediately. The hallway tilted without warning, tossing him off balance and sending him sprawling on the smooth floor.
“I thought you said the turbulence from the main room doesn’t reach back here?” he whinged, scrambling upright.
She just shrugged, one hand still gripping a handle the TARDIS had conveniently grown into the wall for her. Rose, of course, had perfect sea legs—and the TARDIS clearly wanted her to keep them. Their bond ran deeper than the Doctor even knew, and she could feel the ship watching out for her. She used the ole girl’s timely intervention to move things along.
“This is your room,” she said, gesturing to the door.
Just for the night. That was the plan. Get him out of their hair as soon as possible. This whole idea of hers wasn’t working, and all she wanted to do was find the Doctor.
He’d sulked off after they got back, merely grunting at her when she told him she was going to show Adam to his room. The mood shift was obvious—especially after he’d dropped that oversized gun, yanked her into his arms, and held her like he might die if he let go. He’d clutched her hand all the way back to the TARDIS. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what this sudden turn meant.
He didn’t like Adam being here. “A bit pretty” said more than he realized. Was he jealous? Her heart skipped. But maybe he was just being protective. Or possessive. Or something else entirely. Her thoughts fizzled as the door opened. She nearly burst out laughing. The TARDIS clearly didn’t like Adam either.
His temporary room was small, windowless, and bare. The bed was a glorified cot. Stark white walls. No decorations, no comforts. Just a bed, a shelf, and a chair. A clear contrast to the rest of the TARDIS. The sprawling library, professional galley, massive garden, even a swimming lagoon. It made the ole girl’s earlier hallway sabotage make perfect sense. The TARDIS had passed judgment.
Rose, meanwhile, thought about her own bedroom—king-sized bed, with a plush alien mattress and piles of pillows. On the floor a deep navy carpet, soft lilac walls, and an ensuite bath on par with a luxury spa. She also remembered the Doctor’s stunned reaction when he first saw it.
“No companion’s room has ever looked like this.”
She had thanked the TARDIS silently and wondered what the rooms looked like for the others who came before her. She knew there’d been others—he was 900 years old. Of course he’d had other friends. Still, it was nice to feel special. Adam’s face fell as he stepped into his quarters. He clearly expected something else. He had seen a few rooms on the way there, so he knew the ole girl was capable of more. But she didn’t give him time to complain, practically pushing him inside.
“I’m knackered,” she said, fake-yawning. “We should get some sleep. Big day tomorrow.”
Before he could argue or get another word in, she flashed him a dazzling, utterly insincere smile and shut the door behind her. Alone in the corridor, she hesitated. What if he got bored and came looking for them? The TARDIS answered her worry before it could root. A string of comforting images filled her mind: her locking his door, him discovering a few harmless gadgets to distract him, and him staying out of their hair.
Rose exhaled. She rested her forehead against the coral wall and sent her gratitude back through their link—gratitude, affection, and humor. Then she asked the TARDIS to show her where to find the Doctor.
The ole girl dimmed the lights, illuminating a path around the corner. As Rose followed, she could sense the rooms and corridors shifting behind her. Adam would never be able to find them. She blindly followed the route, confident in the TARDIS’s directions. After a few minutes, the gold circular engraving on a dark wooden door illuminated. She knocked tentatively and heard no movement. The door clicked open in an obvious invitation.
She let her eyes drift around his apparently vacant bedroom for the first time. It was all dark wood with navy and silver accents, rich and subtle. He had a gorgeous antique roll top desk, carved with symbols that she now recognized as Circular Gallifreyan. The TARDIS sent her images of the dozens of tiny drawers hidden under the rolling cover, each one bigger-on-the-inside. Half-assembled gadgets and books piled up on every surface. She also saw a cozy reading nook with a fire and bookshelves in one corner, like a mini replica of their library space. His bed was large, with a thick blue bedspread and gray pillows.
The dark room felt calming and deep, like she couldn’t tell exactly how big it really was. She even spied a spiral staircase leading up into the high ceiling, and a little twinkle of realistic stars. A mental nudge to go towards the ensuite. She crossed the room and slowly pushed the door open, gasping.
The Doctor was slumped on the floor against the marble vanity, his head in his hands, his entire body shaking. He had taken off his jumper and changed into a pair of dark green pajama bottoms. His upper body was covered in wounds. He said Van Statten had shown an interest in him. But he’d been so casual about it, she didn’t fully process what that meant until now. They’d tortured him.
Of course, he wouldn’t show me how much he was hurting; that’s what he does. And then I go and invite some jerk who I don’t even like, just to—what? Show off? Prove Adam wrong? Make the Doctor jealous? No, not that last one. At least not consciously.
Her eyes were soft as she approached, whispering his name. He didn’t register her entrance. She sat down cross-legged and touched his shoulder. The split second her hand met his skin, he snapped his gaze to hers. Tears tracked down his face, and his eyes were dark and stormy.
He hadn’t taken a breath since she walked in—his respiratory bypass. But it was beginning to fail. His breathing quickened and he reached desperately for her. She opened her arms immediately. He crushed her to him, and she felt his hearts beating frantically against her chest. Eventually, he pulled back to look in her eyes, his own swimming.
“I thought you were dead.”
Her breath caught. “I know, but I’m here now. I’m with you, I didn’t die,” she reassured. He instinctively leaned into her touch and closed his eyes. He couldn’t face her but also couldn’t move away.
“I’m so, so sorry, Rose.”
She would leave, now that he’d made a conscious decision to put her in danger. And he was terrified of what it would do to him. She tightened her grip on his cheek to get his attention.
“It’s not your fault. No—listen to me, Doctor. It’s. Not. Your. Fault. Remember what I told you after Downing Street? That “I could save the world but lose you” was nice and all, but I don’t want you to stop saving people on my account. I signed up for this, and I meant what I said. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
The knot in his gut loosened and he leaned in a bit more. Since meeting the Dalek, his thoughts were consumed by the Time War. He’d tried to push it down and move on but they bubbled up again, straining to get out. Suddenly, he needed to talk. He burrowed his forehead into her neck and wrapped an arm tightly around her waist. Fiddling with the ends of her hair with the other hand, he spoke softly. He told her. Everything. He told her about the Time War, what he did, and how it felt.
The words poured out of him, along with his tears. Things he’d never told anyone before. She just held him through it, listening. His pain and shame were so deep, he couldn’t see himself the way the rest of the universe saw him—how she saw him. She needed him to know that she forgave him for everything.
There was eventually lull in his conversation, and she turned her attention to his physical state. She picked up his dropped screwdriver and raised her eyebrow, asking silent permission. He almost resisted. But as quickly as the thought arrived, he pushed it away and nodded.
He had been cut, bruised, and burned. There were incisions with sutures already applied, more evidence of a deliberate dissection. She shuddered. With her eyes on her task, he had the opportunity to study her. Tired, sad, and always beautiful. Once he was good as new, she put the screwdriver down and her eyes started to fill up. He reached out to cup her cheek, and a tear spilled over.
“What’s the matter?” he murmured.
Her guilt swamped his touch telepathy. He couldn’t fathom why she should feel this way when he was the one to mess it all up. She looked down at her lap, hands wringing as she spoke.
“I’m sorry, Doctor. I didn’t even know that they were torturing you. At the same time, I was waking up that Dalek. It was all my fault. I didn’t help you when you needed me. And all those people are dead because of me.”
Her voice cracked and he pulled her into his lap without hesitation. It was her turn to bury her face in his neck, and his arms tightened as she began to cry in earnest. She had been there to hold him together and assuage him of his guilt—he would do the same for her.
“You have nothing to be sorry for,” he crooned. “You should never apologize for being compassionate to someone you thought was hurting. It was such a Rose thing to do, and I—you’re amazing, Rose Tyler. Never forget that.”
She gripped him harder as his words registered. He isn’t angry. He still wants me around. She lifted her head to give him a small, wobbly smile, and he tenderly wiped her tears away.
“Thank you, Doctor. I was so worried. And then I thought I mucked it up even more by inviting Adam.” His eyes darkened and he closed off ever so slightly, looking away.
“Oh, of course, how is your new boyfriend settling in?” he sneered.
How quickly his warm demeanor had evaporated gave her whiplash. But she was still in his arms, so he wasn’t pulling back entirely. If anything, his grip on her tightened possessively. She shivered. He was jealous. She fought back her smirk.
“He’s not my boyfriend. I have no interest in him, and he’s already tried and failed.”
He tensed and snapped his gaze to hers. There was concern and barely concealed rage in his eyes. “He what? Did he—are you alright, did he hurt you?” he bit out.
“No, not at all.”
After relaying what happened and what the TARDIS did for her, his vengeful anger leeched out of him. Glee at the antics of his ship took its place. He sent a mental thanks for watching out for Rose and received a pleased hum in return. Then he looked at her, brow furrowed.
“If you don’t fancy him, why did you invite him along?”
She broke eye contact and started fiddling with her hair as she thought about how to explain. “Growing up on the Estates, you learn early that you can’t rely on people. That you shouldn’t hope for much. I knew guys like Adam, these selfish, rich blokes from the local uni who would swan around Henrick’s and the like, picking us up. But it was always just a cheap thrill for them. Adam looked down on me the same way they did. From the moment he started talking, he made me feel like I was still just another worthless chav from a council estate, no education, no future.”
She broke off and closed her eyes. His touch steadied her, grounding the swirl of emotion rising in her chest.
“I guess I…wanted to make him feel small and insignificant. He was so superior talking to me about aliens before all the running for our lives started. I knew that if we took him on one trip—just one, Doctor, that’s all—then I could show him up. Knock him off his high horse a bit. And then we drop him back at home, he has to live on the slow path knowing what he’s missing, and we continue on our way. Better with two, yea?” She looked up at him through her lashes and bit her lip.
It tickled him that she wanted Adam around just to put him in his place. The little twerp deserved it. The idea that Adam made her feel less than—Rose Tyler was everything, and she deserved to know.
“Better with two,” he echoed smokily.
Her eyes flicked to his mouth. Before he could talk himself out of it, he leaned in, giving her plenty of time to pull away. She didn’t hesitate, unwilling to waste this opportunity, and their lips met soundly.
He groaned heavily into her mouth, moving his hand through her hair and onto the back of her neck. His free arm gripped her tightly against his chest. She met him stroke for stroke, looping her arms around his neck. Their tongues battled for dominance in a sumptuous give and take. When they finally came up for air, they stayed close.
“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he sighed.
“Me too,” she purred. “Since Platform One, probably. Maybe before.”
He flushed up to his ears and she thought it was the most charming thing. “I’ve been thinking about it since ‘turn of the Earth.’"
She leaned in once more to plant a kiss on his mouth. It quickly got heated, before her yawn broke their embrace. He suddenly felt how tired she was. They were still on the floor of the ensuite, though his beautiful TARDIS had supplied them with a plush rug to cuddle on. The ole girl nudged his mind and showed him a set of pajamas for Rose on a nearby shelf. It seemed the ship and her pilot had the same hope, that she wouldn’t leave him alone tonight. Their eyes met.
A flicker of fear passed over his face as he whispered, “Stay?”
He was clearly worried about sleeping in this fragile state, having nightmares. He kept saying that he didn’t need as much sleep as humans. However, she had never actually confirmed that he’d slept at all since she joined him on the TARDIS. Granted, she wasn’t with him every minute, and he always seemed to have boundless energy.
But now, she could see his exhaustion bleeding through. It made sense that he would avoid sleep until he absolutely had to. She nodded and reached for his hand, trying to project as much comfort into her touch as possible. Judging by the sudden moisture in his eyes, it worked.
In fact, he was blown away by the warmth that flooded his psyche from Rose. Her telepathic signature was more developed than a typical human. He basked in her glow for a moment before registering that she was talking, trying to coax him off the floor. Taking me to bed, saying she’ll never leave me. He moved his body forward, clinging to her, as they transferred to the giant bed in the corner of the room.
She lay him down and sat on the bed, changing into her pajamas—a fresh vest top, and sleep shorts. He watched with rapt attention as she bared herself to him in this quiet, domestic way. Even though he found her immensely beautiful, this was not a seduction. Once she changed her clothes, she used the makeup remover wipes that the TARDIS had provided on the nightstand and threw her hair up in a loose bun. She lay down with him, and they wrapped themselves around each other.
From her vantage point on the bed, she could now see the gorgeous starscape projected on the ceiling. It looked so real, but she didn’t recognize the view. He looked up and swallowed, gripping her around her waist. When he told her that it was the former sky over his dead planet, she pressed her lips to his collarbone.
His body was taut against hers, too wired now to sleep. She searched for a way to distract him. Her eyes glanced around the room, landing on a strange object on the nightstand.
“Where’d you get that thing?”
He followed her gaze and chuckled softly, burying his face in her neck. Then he unspooled a story of how he had aggressively haggled with a stall owner on a planet that was one giant bazaar for this rare TARDIS part. Their conversation grew so theatrical they began to draw a crowd. She laughed at his impression of the merchant, who was basically a 6-foot tall slug, their language a series of clicks and oozes. He had triumphed, reducing the price by several credits but earning himself a century long ban from the market.
“Paid too much for it, in any case,” he grumbled.
“So, if it’s a TARDIS part, why is it still on the nightstand?”
The ole girl twinkled the lights in an obvious giggle as he settled closer, the ridges of his shoulders loosening. “She won’t let me use it, says it’s a fake, doesn’t do anything.”
Rose snorted. “So all that for nothing then, yea?”
He hummed quietly, more tension leaving his frame. “Yea, s’pose…”
He was finally dropping off. The guilt wasn't gone. It never would be. But for the first time in a very long while, he wasn't carrying it alone. She pressed a kiss to his forehead and closed her eyes. The comforting sound of their three heartbeats and the TARDIS’s hum helped them drift off to sleep.