This fic was inspired by a piece of fanart of the sane name by Giulycay on DeviantArt that can be seen here: .com/gallery/?offset=24#/d2jm1ng and as I said when I posted the fic on DA, before you comment, if you're going to go all "That's not how relationships work" I'll just remind you that this is Doctor Who - a family show about a non-human man and a human woman. I think I've got a bit of leeway with their relationship. And a girl can dream... Also, this was not posted in my fic series "Not Domestic" because it features the fully Time-Lord Doctor, not his clone. This occurs sometime after the Age of Steel and sometime before The Idiot's Lantern.
Rose sighed deeply, rolling over again and curling into herself slightly. She stared blankly off into the darkness, her tired eyes fading somewhere in between open and closed, but she knew that she would not fall asleep. She had been trying for the last three hours.
It was not that she was not tired, or that she was not sleepy; she had had a long day - a long several days - and she was quiet ready to get some well-earned rest. But she was still recovering from her recent run-in with a parallel world. Running her fingers through her hair, she rolled onto her back again, staring up at the dark ceiling. She could not stop thinking about him, and worrying.
It was not just that she would never see him again, although that might have been part of it. It was not even that she wanted him back. She was scared for him. Mickey the idiot, trapped in a strange world, defending the earth. It was not that she doubted him, but she still worried.
When Rose had met the Doctor, her feelings toward Mickey had changed drastically, although she was not sure that his had. It was not that she did not like Mickey – they had known each other since childhood, and he had always been a good friend. He was annoying at times, and he was a bit of an idiot on occasion, but he was good. As they had grown older, it only seemed natural that they stay together, although in truth, their relationship had never been quite what either of them pretended it was. When she met the Doctor, she realized this, and realized that she had been settling for what was not meant to be because she was scared of the unknown. But with the Doctor she did not need to be afraid.
Both of them had grown up considerably by the time they next met. Mickey may not have been 'over' her, but with the Doctor's regeneration, he had realized that he was not, after all, what was best for her. And maybe she was not what was best for him. She did not need him, she needed the Doctor. It had taken a while, but he had grown to live with the idea. They had remained friends, and Rose was genuinely happy when Mickey had at last joined them aboard the TARDIS. Because they did not have to be 'together' to be friends, and they did not have to worry about each other when they were both with the Doctor.
But all of that had changed. He was gone now. In part, she was happy for him. He had a whole new life ahead of him: He had a family again, and a purpose. He could do real good in Pete's world, and she did not doubt that he would. Mickey deserved a second chance, and he deserved to be something more than ordinary. He was more than useless and more than an idiot.
All the same, she worried about him. Because the world he had chosen was a dangerous place. The ominous chant of the Cybermen still echoed loudly through Rose's head: 'Delete. Delete. Delete.' Not even the ever-constant hum of the TARDIS could drown out her memories. It was like the Dalek all over again, only this time, she knew Mickey did not have Rose or the TARDIS or the Doctor to save him.
Sighing once more and rubbing her hands over her face, Rose finally decided that laying here was not even worth it any more. She could not sleep, and lying awake only made her more worried and more lonely. Pushing aside the warm pink sheets she sat up, slipped her legs off the side of the bed, and pushed herself onto her feet. The room was warm, quiet, and dark, but she was familiar enough with it to reach the door without turning on the lights. Pushing the door open, she strode out into the cool hallway, blinking slightly at the dim yellow light that illuminated the coral-like walls. She yawned, rubbing her eyes again and contemplating why she had ever gotten up in the first place, and considered going back and lying down again. But the deep resonance of the Cybermen's chilling approach still echoed in her mind, and she knew she would not be able to sleep. She needed something to calm her down and put her mind at rest. She just was not sure what.
Strolling slowly down the hall with her hand lightly tracing the wall beside her, she considered all of the rooms she knew in the ship. She could go to the library and read, or to the kitchen for a midnight snack. But she was not hungry, and she did not feel awake enough to read. She needed comfort; she needed to know that everything was safe, and all was right in the world. She needed to know that there would be a happy ending, and that the Cybermen were gone. With this on her mind, she found herself subconsciously drifting towards the one door in the long hallway that she had never entered, although she knew full well what lay behind it.
Without thinking, her hand raised to knock, but just before her knuckles made contact with the large door, something in her stopped her cold. What was she doing? This was the Doctor's door. He was probably asleep, but even if he was not, why should she bother him? She was just a stupid little girl with a bad dream, that was all. She was being an idiot, and she had to grow up. What did she think the Doctor was going to do? He could not take her back; they had left Mickey forever. Her hand hovered above the door for a long moment as she agonized in silence.
Sighing one last time, she lowered her hand and turned away without knocking. She was just being stupid; she should go back to bed. It was practically one in the morning, relative time. She just needed some sleep. But as she turned to go, she stopped again. Something in her wanted nothing more and nothing less than to run crying into the Doctor's waiting arms, or to run home to her mother again. She tried to tell herself to be reasonable, and that she could handle herself. But in the end, she did not want to, and before she knew it, she had turned back around and raised her hand to the door again. She was surprised to hear the sound of her own knuckles rapping gently against the door, and regretted it almost immediately.
Closing her eyes and biting her lip, she stood in tense silence for a moment, hoping that the Doctor had not, in fact, heard her, and wishing she was back in bed. But a moment later, she heard a soft "Rose?" from the other side of the door.
Her hand hovered above the door handle for a moment before she, almost without even knowing it, turned it and pushed open the door. "Doctor?" She whispered, almost inaudibly. His room was dark, and was colder than either her room or the hallway she stood in. She leaned in sheepishly, embarrassed for waking him and for the light currently spilling into his once dark and peaceful sanctuary. "I'm sorry…" She muttered quickly and began to close the door.
"No, no…" The Doctor reached over and turned on a lamp beside his bed. "What's the matter? Come in." He told her calmly. His voice was gentle, and held no irritation whatsoever, even as he rubbed his eyes and woke fully.
As the lamp brightened the room, Rose could see that it was the most Doctor-like room on the TARDIS. Old pictures and other mementoes covered one of the walls, and scraps from projects, along with several pinstriped suits and other dirty laundry, were piled in one corner. A pile of books surrounded a comfy-looking reading chair nearby, and the Doctor's bed was in the other corner, covered in TARDIS-Blue sheets. The Doctor's hair was a mess, and he was wearing a set of long-sleeved pajamas that were also blue, and dotted with little yellow bananas and little blue TARDISes. Under different circumstances, she would have laughed at them, but she did not feel like laughing now, only melting into the floor and disappearing.
The Doctor sat up slightly, pushing himself up on his elbows. "Is something wrong?" He said in concern as Rose timidly entered the room. He could see the worry written on her face and moved to push his sheets off and get out of bed at once.
"No-" She said a bit louder than anything she had said thus far, trying to spare him the trouble of getting up. "I just can't sleep, that's all… I'm sorry…" She turned again to go out the door. "I'm just worried about Mickey." She mumbled as she turned away.
The Doctor sank back to his elbows, his brow slightly furrowed, as she turned again to leave. "I'm sure he'll be fine." He tried to comfort her. "You don't have to worry about him."
Rose nodded and started to close the door before he stopped her.
"Rose." He called simply, and the part of Rose that had made her knock now made her head shoot up to meet his eyes.
The Doctor smiled meekly, moved himself to one side of his large, blue bed and lay back down on his side. "Come here." He told her gently, moving the sheets over and patting the place on the bed beside him.
Rose was, at first, taken aback. Under any other circumstance, and by any other person, she would have thought the motion inappropriate and would have turned away. But instead, she found herself obeying. It was as if she had been quietly, unknowingly, waiting for this. "Can I… Can I really sleep in your bed, Doctor?" She asked cautiously as she came beside it. She felt like a small child asking permission to stay in her parent's room during a storm. There was nothing suggestive or sexual about the request, just as there had been none in his invitation.
"Of course." He told her with a smile and a nod. As she climbed into the bed and slipped under the covers, he lay down with an arm under her pillow. "Just sleep." He told her softly, trying to calm her as he turned off the light.
Rose never felt threatened in the Doctor's presence, not even now. As she lay down, a sweet, childlike innocence fell upon them. There was no tension between them, because each knew and trusted that the other had no intentions of crossing any lines. 'Just Sleep.' The Doctor's words echoed, as Rose pulled herself closer to him, her hand now lying at ease on his chest.
As she rested her head on his left arm and cuddled against him, his right arm came to rest comfortably around her, holding her safe in his arms. Rose could never fear anything in The Doctor's embrace; it held strength and protection and the most innocent yet steadfast form of love. His hand rested reassuringly against her back – it never drifted lower, and he made no move to do anything more than hold her close, that they might fall asleep in each others' company.
For what might have been a moment or what might have been hours, they did just that; slowly fall asleep in each others' embrace, snuggled warmly and comfortably in the cool, dark silence. Rose considered their love with a smile. It was not entirely what she would call platonic – she could admit now that she would never love another man but him. But at the same time, it was not erotic or uneasy. It was unusual, but not unnatural; for the Doctor was an unusual, but not unnatural man. He could look at her in complete, undying love, and he could be in bed holding her close without violating her in any way. He made her feel like an equal and a child, all at the same time, but in the best way possible. There was something special about the Doctor, and Rose loved it. He was unlike any man she had ever met – he was an alien, after all - and he was wonderful.
Lying here contentedly snuggled beside him in blissful, happy peace, Rose finally felt herself drifting off to sleep. All of the tension, fear, and anxiety that had kept her awake melted away as The Doctor's chin came to rest comfortably against her head.
"Goodnight." He whispered softly against her at last, kissing her forehead gently. Rose smiled, already drifting to sleep to the steady, soothing rhythm of his two hearts beating.
"Goodnight, Doctor." She whispered back. "Thank you."