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When the door closes behind them with a resounding thud, they’re left alone in the poorly lit bunkroom. The Doctor is silent for a moment, looking over everything in the room.
“It’s small, but it’ll do,” Rose remarks, stepping forward to let herself sink to sit on one of the two small bunks which are across from each other. There’s an ovular galley window from which the blueish starlight seeps into the room. It’s metallic and non-descript. Everything has been built into the room so as to be secured - a built in closet (more of a glorified locker), and a few overhead cabinets. Drawers beneath each bunk, and next to each bunk a shelf on which they can put their things. There’s a very small bathroom off the corner of the room, which Rose stops to investigate first. Mercifully, it is clean, but nothing to write home about. There’s a standing shower, what resembles an airplane toilet, and a sink with no counter space. On the wall there’s a hand dryer at the same height as her head.
“There’re linens for us,” the Doctor says, stepping to the door of the bathroom and handing a towel and face cloth to Rose. He points to a hole in the wall which resembles a washer. “Also, that’s a clothing refresher. Not as good as a full wash but it’ll blast all your clothes full of anti-bacterial sanitizer and get the odor out without water in about fifteen minutes or so. Designed for space. I’d use it while you shower.”
Rose nods and remarks lightly, “It’ll be good to freshen up. I’ll see you in a few.”
It doesn’t take long to realize what a blessing it is to be able to be clean. Rose shoves her clothes into the refresher and showers quickly, thankful for the warm water. The refresher does its job better than she expects, and her clothes look and smell clean when she removes them, if a bit like the smell you get off an HVAC system. She dries her hair underneath the air dryer, and uses the toilet tissue to fix her waterproof eyeliner, fortunately not too messed up from the shower. She brushes her teeth with the dock kit Ida had given each of them containing a few toiletries, then exits the ensuite.
When she emerges from the bathroom, the Doctor silently rises and trades places with her, leaving her with a few minutes to herself. He’s gone quiet since they had closed the door to the bunkroom. She doesn’t know what that means yet.
When he rejoins Rose in the main room a short while later, he picks up both their pairs of shoes and places them side by side near the doorway, the action domestic and unhurried. He then walks the few steps over to the bed opposite hers and sits, his body heavy and countenance weary.
Rose sits and watches him, and tries not to fidget. Her impulses are screaming at her to crack a joke and lighten the mood, but she knows. This is bad.
“How long did Danny say there was until the next shift?” the Doctor asks, his voice fatigued.
Rose glances over to the digital clock interface, embedded into the wall above the door hatch in glowing orange-red numbers.
“If my maths are right, about five and a half hours.”
The Doctor grunts in mental assent then takes a deep breath, bringing his hands up to his head and letting them slide slowly down his face, as if resetting his features.
“Right then. We should both rest,” he says, but there’s not a hint of mirth in his voice. Rose nods, and turns, pulling back the bedding and slipping under the thin covers. A top sheet and two scratchy woolen blankets. Over five-hundred lightyears from home and you’d think they’d be able to get softer bedding.
The Doctor reaches for the lights and flicks the switch, turns down his own bedding, and crawls under the covers of his bunk, turning on his side so his body faces Rose.
Rose looks at him for a moment, watches as he gives her one last glance, then shuts his eyes. At least it seems like he’s willing to attempt sleep. But the silence is heavy in the dark, with only the starlight casting a narrow strip of light down the center of the tiny room.
He’d been so quiet, that’s what had scared her. And the way he’d spoken earlier, the desperation in his voice. Her thoughts drift. To her mother, to the estate, to Mickey in his parallel world, and to all the things she might never see again. She begins to shiver.
“Doctor,” she says. He is still for a moment, then shifts, opening his eyes and looking across to her. As she suspected, still awake, but she can’t quite make out his expression in the dark.
“Would you hold me?” she asks, small and quiet. The blue starlight casts shadows over his face. Rose is almost embarrassed to look at him, but he rises anyway, pulling the covers off of his bunk and draping them over Rose before lifting the edge to lie down next to her. Rose moves closer to the wall to give him space on the narrow bunk. Wordlessly he slides down next to her and curls around her.
It’s not the first time he’s held her like this, the aftermath of the Wire being the most recent time. But this is different. They’ve never held each other while both trying so hard to hide.
He wraps his arms around her back, pulling her flush against him and tucking her head into the curve of his shoulder. His recognition is almost instant.
“Rose, you’re shuddering!” he says, in a soft exclamation and she can feel the vibration of his voice in her chest just as surely as she knows he can feel the tremors which are running through her body like an involuntary quake.
“Yeah, well,” Rose says, trying to formulate a subsequent sentence, but it won’t come.
He responds by tightening one arm around her and tucking his head close to hers - so their cheeks touch and his breath is warm against her neck.
“Are you cold?” he asks, pulling the blankets closer around her in a cocoon of concern. His arms tighten around her even closer.
She wants to say yes, but the truth of it is that for being stuck on this rock in the middle of space, the base is actually quite warm.
“No,” she says with a small shake of her head.
“Sick then? There’s no telling how the food they served might be sitting with you.”
Rose shakes her head again.
“I’m not sick. I’d be able to feel it if I was.”
“What then?” the Doctor asks, his voice perplexed.
“No, I’m-” Rose pauses. Don’t make me say it. She lets the brief silence plead on her behalf, then huffs a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sigh of frustration. “Don’t act like you’re not terrified too.”
“Oh,” he says, his voice small, and light. He is very still, as if her admission has frozen him, then he moves, slipping his fingers into her hair to pull her head closer into the crook of his neck. “You’re scared,” he says.
It’s redundant, but the fact that it’s been said counts for something.
Rose doesn’t reply, only seeks to breathe in a shaking breath, giving him a barely perceptible nod, trying to gain some form of control. Instead, the recognition serves to worsen her reaction - rational thought taking a backseat and pure panic takes over.
“God, I hate this,” Rose manages to get out as a violent shudder runs through her body.
The Doctor flexes his fingers in a gentle way against her scalp, regret spilling from him in the way his chest constricts and the rest of his body stiffens at her words.
“I know. I’m so sorry.”
“No,” Rose says, and pushes against his chest with her palm flat against it. “No. No, you don’t get to be sorry. You did not cause that earthquake. This is not your fault. Don’t you dare try and tell me this is your fault.”
“Yes it is,” the Doctor measures his words. “Everything that happens to you is my fault.”
“How do you figure that then?” Rose pulls away from him then, back far enough to look at his face, across from hers on the shared pillow, and as she does his hand slips from her hair to rest against the side of her neck, his thumb at the corner of her jaw. There’s an angry terror in her eyes, mirrored in his own. He doesn’t speak. “No really, I want an answer to that,” Rose says, her voice shaky but insistent; her body still trembling.
“You travel with me,” he starts, then pauses. “You travel with me and…” he pauses again.
The heaviness hangs between them, inches apart, but somehow far.
“Go on,” Rose says, her eyes losing some of the frustration and insistency.
“Just give me a moment,” the Doctor says. Rose blinks, and lets her eyes stop flitting about. Lets her gaze match his. He looks away. He so rarely asks for time to speak. The words either flow, or he locks them away, deep inside. Rose sets her jaw to stop her teeth from clacking together.
“Safe. I want you safe,” he finally says. “I’ve vowed to keep you safe. To your mother. And to myself.” He speaks slowly, as if only just processing the words for the first time. “Everything that happens to you, when you’re with me, is a result of me. Because I took you with me. Because you’re here, with me. And… and I’m sorry.”
It’s not eloquent, but it’s telling.
Rose inhales, filling her lungs with air and shifting forwards an inch or two closer to him again. She spreads her fingers a little on his chest again over his shirt, feeling the thrum of his heartbeats underneath her fingertips.
“In case nobody has ever told you this…” Rose says, and he wonders for a moment if she may be about to tell him something more, “I signed up for this. You gave me a choice, whether to travel with you - and to know the risk. You had my consent.” She taps her index finger once against him emphasizing the last word. “And yeah. We’re here at the end of the bloody universe, maybe never to see Earth again, and maybe never to see my mother again, and it’s horrifying . But I’m here. With you.” She repeats his words back to him. “You don’t get to be sorry for something I wanted.”
He looks at her first like he looked in the schoolyard at Deffry Vale, aching and remorseful. But she makes herself look at him until his resolve begins to break, and the remorse - still there at the edges of his vision - starts fading away in little bits.
“Wanted…” he repeats, in barely a whisper. His thumb twitches in a soft brush at her jaw. Rose focuses on calming her body - letting his warmth still her. His look bears conflict and question.
“Want,” Rose counters, and waits.
The Doctor takes a deep breath, then gives her a single nod.
“Okay.”
He then tugs on her again, curling around her in a close hug and sinking his fingers back into her hair. Rose closes her eyes and breathes through her nose against his skin until the shivering at last abates.
They are quiet for a long time, only shifting slightly from time to time to move closer around each other.
Finally, Rose speaks.
“I should be sorry.”
Knowing better than to deny her admission outright, the Doctor instead says,
“Why?”
“For my ignorance. Because of the way you spoke earlier, about the TARDIS. I… didn’t know. That she was your only thing left. Or that they were grown.”
The Doctor inhales a long, sharp breath.
“I never told you. You weren’t to know.”
“Yes, but I’ll listen. If you wanted to… you know, if you needed to tell me.”
Her voice still holds a bit of uncertainty but it’s masked with a certain level of determination which fills the Doctor with admiration for this woman.
And then it feels almost as if the black hole outside is exerting pressure upon him, as almost everything in him fills with a desire to spill all of his secrets and horror, and the things he has done to this innocent soul. For a moment, he thinks he might do it… might tell her everything, just to see if she’ll stay. If she’ll listen… if she’ll still want him. Yet, something holds him back. His link to the TARDIS is severed, but it feels almost like the restraint he feels from his ship sometimes. A reminder to wait. That there are other timelines to be protected.
“What did you feel before, when you were shaking?” he asks in a soft but direct voice.
Rose bumps her knee against his as she moves a little.
“Just… fear I guess. Worry that I’d never see my mother again. My planet.”
The Doctor nods.
“That’s what it’s like. What it was like, anyway, at the end of the war. For me.”
Rose remains still, giving him space to speak more, if he wants to.
“It’s different though, when it’s gone. When you’re the only one left. Fear doesn’t stay fear… I suppose it turns to grief, which in time, turns to guilt.” He admits the words in a reflective state she’s never seen him reach before.
“And then?” she asks, reaching with her hand to brush her fingers in his hair at the back of his head. His eyes flutter shut, and he sighs a defeated kind of sigh.
“And then… I don’t know.”
Rose pulls away from him then, scooting back far enough to see his face. She cradles his cheek in her hand and brushes her thumb underneath his eyelid, as if wiping away an invisible tear. He opens his eyes at this, watching her as she searches his expression for whatever it is she’s looking for.
“What was it called, your planet? Your home?” she finally says.
He realizes then that he still hasn’t brought himself to speak the name of it to Rose. To allow himself to acknowledge aloud the name of that which is lost. His hearts twist within him.
“Gallifrey. It was called Gallifrey.” The voice he uses is soft, the way she’s heard him speak to children. “I wish… I wish I could show it to you.” He whispers, and lifts his hand to her cheek to mirror her cradling of his.
Rassilon, but it would be so easy . His fingers settle at the curve of her ear, two fingers at her temple. He could just slip right into her mind.
But it’s her face which stops him. Her beautiful, tender face. The way her eyes caress him in absolute care and comfort. And he knows. If he lets himself show her, he’ll fall in and he won’t be able to stop himself. Her hand in his hair is already killing him.
Now, calmed by his presence, she’s so steady. He doesn’t know if the burning he feels in his stomach is more fear, guilt, or want. She doesn’t look away, doesn’t shy away from him in fear and disgust and resentment that he’s trapped her here and taken her from her only blood relative… and he loves her for it.
“You don’t have to show me. The stars are enough.”
Every part of him aches to pull her closer again, guide her lips to his, and drown her in the gratitude he feels, but he holds himself back. If he kisses her now, she’ll think it’s because of guilt. She’ll think it’s because he’s sorry for what he’s done to her, or because he’s weak in his remorse for his atrocities of war. Not because he loves her.
And increasingly, beyond his control, he loves her. So he instead sinks his hand further into her hair and pulls her head closer and tilts his chin upwards to press his lips to her forehead. She stays there, pressed against him, and he breathes.
When she wakes, a few hours later, the day shift alarm hasn’t yet sounded, and she finds she’s quite unable to move. They’d fallen towards rest, still cradling each other, until eventually, both asleep, the Doctor had shifted to lie half on top of her, with his arm around her in protection and his hand splayed at her ribs, his face pressed to her neck. Rose brings her arm around to rub her hand up and down his upper arm a few times, and he stirs into wakefulness quickly.
Neither of them speak as he rolls away from her, casting the covers off of himself to sit up and swing his legs over to the floor. Rose lies on her side and watches the curve of his back as he breathes slowly, his hands on either side of him on the mattress. His face is silhouetted by the starlight, dark and unreadable.
“I’m going down into the pit,” he says, without looking at her. Rose nods to herself. She knew this was coming. “Whether they finish the drilling, or find anything down there or not. I’ll force my way down if I have to. But I have to find her.”
His voice breaks as he says the word her . It could be brushed off as the byproduct of sleep, but Rose discerns that it isn’t.
“I know,” Rose says, and places her hand over his on the mattress, threading her fingers in the space between his.
He looks back at her then.
“Rose, do something for me.”
Rose sits up, alert and receptive, and he turns to face her more, bringing their clasped hands to his lips to press a kiss to the back of her hand.
“When I go down there, don’t watch me go like you’re watching a soldier go off to war. Just… let me see you smile. When it’s time.”
“Of course,” Rose says in agreement, and responds by kissing the back of his hand. The air feels thick between them, so he stands and walks into the ensuite and closes the door.
Rose rises and looks out the galley window at the howls of space, his vulnerable words echoing in her thoughts. She can see the edges of the black hole to her left now, in all of its swallowing expanse.
When the Doctor returns, all of his carefully constructed shielding has returned - his face thoughtfully schooled into the expression of curiosity and cheerful exploration, as he quips in a lighthearted voice about finding some breakfast.
Rose turns from the window and nods, shoving away the urge to press him further about the meaning of what he’s said. Instead, she washes up and joins him on the walk to the cafeteria.
As soon as they’re in front of other people, he’s back to his usual self. The somber words of desperation and fear are concealed behind his goofy side comments. He asks small questions about the crew, and his eyes bounce from person to person, observing and plotting. She can tell he’s trying to figure out which one of them he can reach - which one of them he can convince to let him go look for the TARDIS. Despite herself, Rose finds herself laughing at the Doctor’s jokes, playing along with his strategy with her heart genuinely bolstered by his voice. In return, she finds his gratitude-filled gaze lingering on hers. Her breath hitches in her chest.
And then the drill stops, and he’s convincing Ida to let him go down there, and he comes walking towards her in an orange spacesuit.
She remembers her promise.
He can’t seem to stop hugging her. It’s been well over an hour since they dropped Ida back off and said their farewells to the crew, eaten some leftovers from the TARDIS fridge, and made it back to the console room, but the Doctor keeps stopping to move closer to her and wrap his arms around her, as if reassuring himself that she’s still there.
Rose lets him, and lets herself memorize the feel of his arms around her - lets herself commit to memory what it feels like to have him cling to her with this kind of intensity.
“Well then,” he finally says, releasing her from the hug with a smile. “Where do you want to go?”
“I’m not sure I want to go anywhere just now,” Rose says, honestly. He shakes his head.
“No, I mean where do you want to go to rest?”
“Oh,” Rose says, thinking. He rubs his hands up and down her upper arms for a moment. “Maybe we could go someplace out in the country? With fields and stuff?”
The Doctor nods and turns for the console.
“I know where.”
He conceals the exact location from her, but lands them somewhere out in Yorkshire in the 1930s. The TARDIS lands facing west at the edge of a dirt road next to a gently sloping field, with stone walls framing the landscape. Rose steps out of the TARDIS and looks at the view and whistles gently.
“Yeah… this is what I meant.” Across the way, down the sloping fields she can see a village in the distance below, and on the horizon, the sun hangs low, painting the skies in pink, blue, and yellow light.
The Doctor steps out of the TARDIS behind her, holding a plaid blanket in his arms.
“Golden hour,” he states with a happy sigh.
They walk a short ways down a gravel and dirt road to the top of a meadow, and he spreads the blanket out on the grass.
They both sit, and Rose pulls her knees up, wrapping her arms loosely around her legs and looking out over the scenery. She breathes in a deep breath and shuts her eyes.
“It’s so peaceful,” she says. In the distance, there is the muffled bleat of some sheep from a herd grazing on the hill. Opening her eyes again, Rose runs her hand through the blades of grass.
“I never thought I’d touch the Earth again,” she remarks in a quiet voice.
“I know.” He keeps his eyes forward.
“Don’t say it like that…” Rose says softly, taking his hand. He turns to look at her then and she continues. “We made it out. We’re okay now.”
The corner of his mouth quirks in a small smile.
“I know,” he repeats, and turns his head back towards the setting sun. “I shouldn’t have just landed us in the cupboard. Shouldn’t have randomized the location generator. I should have been more intentional about your safety.” He sets his jaw and Rose watches the flicker of self-directed anger cross over his face.
“Yeah but where would be the fun in that? Playing it safe and not getting into trouble? That doesn’t sound like you.” Rose lets go of his hand and ruffles his hair instead.
His defenses drop immediately and he sighs at her touch, dropping his forehead to his knees and closing his eyes, so Rose continues to stroke his hair.
“Still…” he murmurs.
“Still, you saved lives today. There are more people out there, walking around the universe alive because of you. That’s more than there would be without you.” Rose says.
He lifts his head and looks at her, a vision of compassion, and reason, and warmth. His heart aches, and he’s not sure why.
“Yeah?” he asks.
“Yes,” she replies, and leans over, pressing a kiss to his temple. She lays her head on his shoulder and scoots closer to him. Oh, he can’t breathe.
“No more atonement,” Rose states.
At first, his hearts constrict more. But then something lifts, and in its place, he remembers his one belief. Wordlessly, he responds by returning her forehead kiss, his mouth grazing her forehead and hair.
They sit together, watching as the sun goes down, speaking in hushed tones, about nothing at all, really. The sky begins to change as it darkens, the pink and blue leaving to make way for a single color… orange.
When he speaks then, it’s with reverence.
“This was the colour of the sky. I checked the weather before we landed because I wanted to show you. It looked like this, on Gallifrey.”
Rose is very quiet next to him, realizing the significance of his admission.
“It’s beautiful,” she says in a gentle way, threading her fingers through his. He nods and squeezes her hand back.
They watch the rest of the sunset fade in companionable silence, then lie back to watch the stars come out.
“Did you think when we were on that planet that we would make it back?” Rose asks, honestly. The Doctor inhales deeply a breath of cool air.
“I don’t know. I hoped we would. But I suppose I thought we wouldn’t.”
“And that scared you?”
“If it didn’t, I’d never have gone down into that pit.”
Rose thinks on his reply for a moment.
“Did it scare you more that the TARDIS was missing or that we’d have to sit still?”
The Doctor doesn’t answer, just looks up at the stars for a moment which lasts long enough for Rose to think perhaps he wouldn’t answer.
“Being stuck doesn’t scare me,” he eventually says, and turns his head to look at her. “There are other things. But not that.”
His look is so earnest that any reply dies on Rose’s lips. He watches her for a long moment.
“Come on,” he whispers, and sits up. He pushes himself to his feet and stands up, reaching a hand out to Rose to help her up. She takes it and lets him pull her to her feet. Rose wraps her arms around herself against the air which is growing chilly in the absence of the sun.
“Are you cold now?” the Doctor asks.
“Yeah, should have brought a warmer jacket.”
He reaches down and picks up the blanket, shakes it out, and wraps it around her shoulders in response, drawing it close around her.
“Better?” he asks with a smile, warmth in his voice.
“Better,” she nods and smiles back.
They walk up towards the TARDIS, the Doctor ahead of Rose with his strides being longer. But when he reaches the door, he stops with his hand on the handle. He turns around to face Rose, who stops, looking at him curiously.
“I think we should stay,” he says, and looks at her dead-on. Rose raises her eyebrows in surprise. “I think we should stay overnight. And then I think we should stay for longer. For-” he pauses, “a month maybe.”
Rose tries to puzzle out his expression, the nervousness of his body, and the subtext of his meaning in his tone of voice.
“Alright,” she agrees. “But why? What’s special about here?”
“It’s not a mortgage… but it’ll be shared. If you want,” he throws in at the end, swallowing, trying to make his voice casual.
Shared. Shared.
Rose wonders if she’s dreaming but the Doctor stays still, standing in front of her and waiting for her answer. She responds by walking forward and hugging him with such gusto that he stumbles back against the TARDIS door with it.
Maybe tomorrow, they’ll rent a house. Maybe then, they’ll explore the village, and make friends with the locals, and get to know the lay of the land. And maybe after that they’ll find odd jobs to do… helping people in need.
“Let’s share,” Rose says into his neck, as he laughs softly and he wraps his arms tighter around her. Rose curls around him in an embrace both tender and grateful. His hearts beat faster as his body thrums with joy.
He breathes in relief in the arms of his single creed, and above them, the glittering expanse of stars gaze upon a quiet Earth below.
It’s enough.