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The atmosphere on the TARDIS was strained for a few days after Mickey chose to stay in the parallel world. Once she’d spent some time with her Mum, Rose returned to the ship and wandered around a bit aimlessly, feeling too restless to wallow in bed, too guilty to seek out the Doctor’s company.
He seemed to be under the impression that she needed a break from travelling, needed to spend some time suspended in the vortex to work through her feelings. In reality, that was the last thing she needed. She kept hinting at him that she’d prefer to just get back out there and see the world, the universe, to take her mind off quite effectively pushing her once best mate away so spectacularly that she’d never ever see him again.
But he didn’t believe her, and made up some excuse about the TARDIS needing rest and recuperation. Consequently, the Time Lord had been stuck under the console for the best part of three days, and Rose was bored, lonely, and feeling a little too emotionally fragile for her liking. She wasn’t used to it, didn’t like it, and wanted to pretend she was fine. And the Doctor - bloody good at doing exactly that himself, she knew - was unfairly not indulging her in that desire. He kept looking at her with sympathy in his eyes and a sad smile on his face, too.
Infuriating.
It wouldn’t be so bad if she’d got, like, a cuddle out of his pity. But as it stood, it was all awkward pats on the shoulder as he wished her goodnight, then legging it back to his comfort zone: repairing wires instead of hearts.
So she’d much rather the alternative, this time. As much as she’d previously faulted the Doctor for his ability to bottle everything up and go, go, go, always moving on, never stopping to analyse feelings or consequences…right now she could do with some evasive tactics and a nice, distracting run for their lives.
She certainly wasn’t gonna ask him for a hug, or something.
It was the fourth day of exploring the TARDIS on her own that Rose gave in. Plonking herself down on the jumpseat in the console room, she watched him tinker for a few minutes before clearing her throat. The clanging noise his spanner had been making ceased, and he dutifully shuffled out from under the console, hair ruffled and shirt sleeves rolled up. Rose bit her lip.
“Hi,” she murmured.
“Hello.” He gave her what she supposed was his attempt at a smile, but his eyebrows were drawn together in concern and the entire expression looked a touch too bleak for her liking.
“Okay, you can stop now,” Rose said. She wriggled in her seat, drawing her legs up underneath her as she heaved a sigh.
“Stop what?” he asked, all innocent and high-pitched. He wiped his hands on a stray rag and stood up, before leaning against the console in front of her, arms crossed.
Seeing his defensive posture fired her up a little. She burst out, “Stop being so worried about me. Stop feeling sorry for me. Stop treating me like a wild animal you’re scared you’re gonna spook! I’m fine. All right? I’m sad he’s gone and it’s all my fault and I feel guilty as fuck but I can’t change it, so.” She shrugged. “Got to get on with it.”
The Doctor blew out a long breath. “Well. Firstly, it’s not your fault - ”
“Doctor. It is. You know it is. I…” She closed her eyes in shame, a blush tinting her cheeks as she admitted it, “I took him for granted, made him feel so unwanted that he decided to stay in a completely different universe, and do you know what the worst thing is, the absolute worst thing?”
“What’s that?” he asked quietly.
Rose sat up, feet to the floor again, and braced herself, hands clenching tightly around the edge of the jumpseat. “As much as I miss him, as much as I’ll always miss him, a huge part of me is just so glad he’s not travelling on the TARDIS anymore.” She felt a tear slide down her cheek and hastily wiped it away. “And if that doesn’t make me the worst person to ever exist, then - ”
“Hey, shh,” the Doctor murmured, abruptly moving to sit next to her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. He tugged her close into his side, and kissed the top of her head. As much as Rose had been longing for him to show her this kind of affection lately, she absolutely didn’t deserve it, and told him so.
“Stop it,” she said once more, half-heartedly wriggling away from him. “You shouldn’t comfort me, I’m awful.”
“You’re not awful, don’t be daft.”
“I didn’t want him here, but I didn’t want him to stay there,” she choked out, sniffing as she tried to hold back tears.
“I know.” He tightened his hold on her, and she relaxed into his embrace despite herself, resting her head against him. “Neither did I.”
“I’ve been so selfish and I just can’t…” Rose couldn’t hold it back anymore, and started to cry. She realised she wasn’t as good at bottling things up as she’d hoped, couldn’t begin to emulate the Doctor in that way.
“So have I,” he said gravely. “And if that makes us terrible people, so be it. But it also makes us normal.”
Rose snorted. “You, normal?” She tugged her sleeve down over her hand and wiped at her eyes, smudging mascara onto the fabric of her hoodie.
“Well, no, you’re right. I am pretty extraordinary.” He adjusted his tie.
She gave him a look, and he smiled, clearly trying to make her do the same. Her lips quivered at the corners, but she refused to let herself laugh at a time like this.
The Doctor hesitantly reached forward and swiped his thumb along her cheekbones, gathering salty tears and remnants of makeup. “I’ve been worried about you.”
“I guessed that,” Rose said.
“After that first bout of tears at Jackie’s, you suddenly stopped crying. Just walked around here like a zombie!” he continued, growing more animated as he informed her of his concern. “Bizarre behaviour.”
“I was trying to be like you,” she muttered, frowning at him.
“Exactly! Bonkers.” He nudged her shoulder. “Thing is, I do all my guilt and panic thing on the inside. Just ‘cos it looks like I’m coping, all stoic and manly - ”
Rose scrunched up her face. “Did I say that? I don’t think I said that.”
The Doctor ignored her, “ - doesn’t mean I’m not, you know…” He hedged a bit, tilting his head.
“Not what?”
He sniffed.
“What, Doctor? Sad?”
“Emotionally compromised, let’s say.”
“Right.”
“You can talk to me, you know.”
Rose felt his hand sneak into hers and glanced down at where their joined fingers rested on her thigh. She stroked her thumb over his. “Yeah?”
“Of course.” His thumb stroked hers back.
“It’s just, you seem to avoid that, you know? Talking.”
“Are you kidding? I talk all the time!”
“Yeah, you do,” she acknowledged with a wry smile. “But not about, like, emotions and stuff.”
“Okay. But just because I don’t talk about my emotions, doesn’t mean I don’t want to hear about yours.”
Rose laughed, and squeezed his hand. “Little bit one way street, don’t you reckon?”
He tried for levity. “Oh, you don’t wanna hear about all my woes, Rose.”
“You know that’s not just what I’m talking about,” she said quietly.
There was a pause. He didn’t appear to be floundering for words, exactly, but his eyes widened and she could tell she was alarming him. She retreated back to their old habits to save hearing one-too-many rejections she could handle for one week. Her dad, who wasn’t really her dad, her ex, who she’d thought would always be there if she needed him…add scaring the Doctor off to that and she might as well bury herself under her duvet for three weeks and resign herself to that cocktail of boredom, loneliness and guilt she’d been sipping all day.
“Anyway,” she continued, breaking the brief silence, “Thanks. I do, you know…appreciate it.” She extracted her hand from his. “But my point, before all this started,” she gestured at her no doubt blotchy face, “was that I’d rather we just get out of here and do something. Sitting around here all day feeling sorry for myself isn’t exactly helping.”
The Doctor exhaled. “Yeah. All right.” He stood, and waved his hand towards the console. “I’ll just finish up here, and then I’ll set the coordinates for somewhere brilliant - ”
“Wait.” Rose reached out, meaning to grab his sleeve but getting his bare forearm instead. She smiled; happy accident. She pulled him back towards her, and herself to a standing position with the same motion. “Can I get a proper hug first?”
“You’ll ruin my shirt,” he teased, but opened his arms to her.
She slid her hand up his forearm, and let it take the leisurely route to his shoulder, bringing her other arm up to link around his neck. His arms wrapped around her waist and he brought her closer in a tight hug, like he had earlier, only this time it was better; more contact, less space between their bodies; easier to feel the strength in his arms, to relish the comfort of his touch.
He stroked her back lightly, making her shiver, and in recompense she played with the hair at the nape of his neck. This was their default setting: avoid saying what needed to be said, tease each other with affectionate touches instead.
Rose started to pull back, and his chin brushed her right temple as she moved; he tilted his head slightly, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. She paused there, letting his lips linger, her eyes closed as she savoured the rare, unguarded moment. After a few seconds she forced her eyes open and leaned back, still in the circle of his arms but able to look up at him, now. She dropped her hands from the back of his neck to the crooks of his elbows.
“You do know why he left, don’t you,” she whispered.
The Doctor smiled. “To take the parallel world by storm - ”
“Doctor.”
His smile faded, but he nodded gently.
Rose glanced down, biting her lip nervously for a moment before continuing. “He thought…”
“Yeah,” the Doctor exhaled.
“Was he right?” she asked, voice hitching on the last word.
“Rose.”
She met his gaze again.
“Yes,” he said firmly, frankly, and her heart fluttered. She watched his eyes drop to her mouth - just for a second, but she was opportunistic about it, leaning up to touch her lips to his. He returned the pressure, indulged her, well, and himself, probably, for the briefest while, but then he retreated, giving her nose a playful nudge with his own. She suspected it was to ease the sting of rejection. “You’re still upset,” he told her. “Grieving, really.”
“He’s not dead,” she muttered.
“Still.” He’d cupped her cheek as she kissed him, and he slid his hand down to the curve of her neck, now, his thumb stroking along her jawline. “Best not. Not right now.”
“Yeah,” she sighed, because he was right; it wasn’t the time for it. But he was the one with an arm still around her waist, holding her to him.
As if reading her thoughts, he finally let go of her, running a hand through his hair as he stepped back towards the console. “Right then. Like I was saying: somewhere brilliant, coming right up.”
Rose smiled, a big, beaming, grateful thing, and felt happier than she had all week. All month, really, given the shaky time they’d had of it of late. She would still wallow in her cocktail of guilt and sorrow, later, but at least for now she felt a little less lonely, and a lot less bored.
He let her help him with the controls, and though he remained distractingly good-looking, and despite him licking his bottom lip several times, practically inviting her to gravitate back towards it, she kept her cool, and followed his flying lesson reasonably well.
Apparently she nearly sent them hurtling towards Dex Seven at one point, but she wasn’t gonna count that as a failure as such; the Doctor had done the same thing two months back, which was how they’d discovered their favourite waffle shop there in the first place. So, that was okay.
And she’d get better.