Don't own Doctor Who.

Sorry for the wait. Here's the…uh… epilogue thingy. Deeply sorry if my knowledge of GitF seems rusty, I haven't watched the episode in a while.

Rose stood in the doorway of the kitchen, watching him in mild amazement. He was making tea, a first for him. He looked back and gave a smile when he saw her standing there. "Morning."

"Mornin'," she muttered, going over to sit at the table. She frowned at him. "You're makin' tea," she commented her surprise.

He grinned, "That's right." He placed a cup in front of her. "I thought you might want one." He couldn't help noticing her eyes were slightly red and puffy, like she had been crying. There were dark circles under her eyes as well.

"Thanks," she said quietly.

He sat opposite her, watching her closely as she put the mug to her lips. He wasn't sure if she liked it though, she didn't seem to be paying much attention to the taste. They sat in silence, and it wasn't long before the Doctor realised this was probably the most uncomfortable silence he had ever had with Rose. It was almost like last night's events in her bedroom had created an invisible wall between them.

They stared past one another, suddenly too afraid to meet one another's gaze. The Doctor opened his mouth; he had to speak soon or else this terrible silence would surely drive him mad. "Ugh, how's the tea?" he asked. He cringed; How's the tea? His eyes closed in embarrassment; what a stupid thing to say!

She didn't answer, and he couldn't blame her. She sighed sadly, "I'm sorry."

"Why?" he asked, eyes flicking open on her.

She shrugged. "For being all… well, I'm not very good company, am I?"

The Doctor shook his head. "It's allowed. You've just lost…" he trailed off, looking at her sadly.

"Still…" she sighed. "I'm gonna…" she pointed vaguely towards the door and stood up, heading out of the kitchen.

He watched her go, feeling dampened, pathetic, and a total idiot. Scared, and awkward, he couldn't tell her… Oh, how he wanted to make it better; to make her happy; to make her laugh again. He leaned back in his chair and sighed. His tongue ran around his mouth for a while, then he suddenly stood up. Right, he decided, it was time for action.

He wondered through the hallway, determined – terrified, but determined. His knuckles hit against her bedroom door. "Rose," he called lightly.

No reply.

He knocked again, but still there was nothing. He opened the door, just a few inches, slightly wondering if he would be shouted at for disturbing her, or just told to leave. No one greeted him though. She wasn't there, nothing but a slightly messy room.

Thoroughly put out, the Doctor went back into the hallway, closing the door behind him. Where was she then? He sighed and headed off down the corridor, looking for her. It was quiet apart from the humming of the ship and his footfalls that echoed through the long corridors.

He checked everywhere he could think of - the library; the swimming pool; the gym; all the bathrooms; the living area; even his own room – but for all the good it did, he may as well have stayed and moped in the kitchen. Finally admitting defeat he smooched over to the console room. He gawped his surprise; there, sitting in his captain's chair with head tilted back and eyes closed, was Rose.

He stared at her; she didn't usually hang about in there, at least not in between trips, not really. Well, unless she was keeping him company when he was fixing the TARDIS. Still, he thought, maybe this was a clue that she wanted to go out on another adventure; get back to normal. Well, he could handle that. That prospect looked quite good actually. She was sleeping though, and he wondered if he should leave her in peace, and come back later; with a brilliant place to go in his mind. Or maybe he should move her into her room; it couldn't be comfortable, sleeping like that.

He went over to her, noticing the gentle rising and falling of her chest as he bent his hand down to cup her cheek. She must have not slept at all last night, he thought. It was best to get her somewhere comfortable, he decided. Just as he was about to put his arms around her, preparing to take her to bed, she stirred. Her eyes popped open and he was left looking into the brown orbs, his face inches from hers.

"What're you doing?" she asked lightly, surprised at the closeness of the Timelord.

The Doctor stood sharply back up, expanding the space between them. "Nothing. You were just – you were sleeping, so I was going to take you to your room. I thought you might be more comfortable there."

"Oh, well thanks, but 'm okay," she assured him, sitting up in the chair. "Didn't realise I nodded off."

"You sleep much last night?" he asked, concern evident in his voice.

She shrugged, "Bit."

He nodded and leaned against the central panel. "You were… thinking of other things?" he asked, gaze fixed on the floor. He knew she was nodding even though he couldn't see her. He looked up at her; she was watching him from the chair sadly. He swallowed, "Rose-?"

"S'okay Doctor," she said quickly. "None of this is your fault, really."


"Stop it. Really, it's fine," Rose assured him, smiling best she could. "I'll just have to get used to it."

The Doctor's brow furred. "Get used to no Mickey?"

She smiled sadly, "No – well, yeah – but I meant get used to all of it. Men. Just… bein' men."

"You mean me as well?" he asked, wondering if a Timelord came into her idea of 'men'. But then, he was still male, so he supposed he should in Rose's mind, even if he didn't see himself as the human version of 'man'.

She looked at him, a deep understanding look – but sad as well – and he wasn't sure he liked that look on her. "Yeah," she said softly.

He nodded, disappointed but not altogether surprised. He probably deserved it. "Rose." He bent down so he was level with her, a determined air to him. "We need to talk."

She nodded, and pulled her legs up to her chest, watching him. "Okay… but you should know, I'm okay… Mickey left – he can't come back. I've accepted it."

The Doctor nodded, "I know, but that's not what I had in mind."

"What then?" Rose asked, already dreading the answer.

The Doctor swallowed. "You, me… and you know… us."

Rose met his gaze, startled and – he could help panicking at her reaction – slightly alarmed. "What, and by us, you mean…?"

"You and me… I mean, how we… if we're okay… our friendship, you know." He bit his lip; he really wasn't handling this very well so far. He didn't see, but Rose looked rather disapointed at his voicing of what he meant; just a friendship, she mused. He sighed and sat down on the floor, leaning his back against the console. Rose shifted off of the chair and sat down next to him, watching and waiting for him to speak. "With Reniette –" he began.

"It's 'kay," Rose interrupted quickly, sensing the difficult subject. "I know what she meant to you, you don't have to bring her up."

"No, Rose please," he looked at her sternly. "You need to understand. Yes, she was special, and yes, she meant a lot to me. I made a promise to her, and you need to understand I would have never… if I'd looked back at you, I never would have been able to leave."

She nodded, looking down at the floor. "But you did," she whispered. "I waited for you... I thought," -she choked out a sob, tears threatening to come through- "I thought you were…"

He put his arm around her. "I know. I'm sorry." He felt her body shake as he held her tighter, and tried to ignore the wet patch that was creeping its way into his suit. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his eyes closed as he held her; chin resting on her head, and smelling her sweet scent.

She lifted away, eyes red and blurred. "S'kay."

He looked at her, and cupped his hand the back of her head, bringing it forward before saying earnestly, "However much I cared about Reniette, you have to understand… I care about you so much more."

She gave him a shaky smile, the first true smile he had seen on her face in ages. They hugged tightly, and he could tell by her face… she knew, oh she knew. He didn't have to say it in any other way to make her realise. How much he cares about her. How much he loves her. And he does. He really does.

Rose held him tighter, and they stayed like that for a while. She looked up at him with a warm smile, and he knew… this time, he had done what his title suggested he should. He had made her better.


Reviews help people to write better, please? Was it okay?