There But For

[preserved_ginger]

Title: There But For
Characters: Rose Tyler, The Doctor, passing mentions of Jackie Tyler
Pairing: Doctor/Rose
Rating: 12
Spoilers/Setting: Immediately after The Age of Steel
Disclaimer: Not mine; just borrowing.
A/N: This is a sequel to The Grace of God
Summary: The Doctor finally gives in.

And The Doctor wakes, gasping for breath.

There was no way in hell that he was going to get any more sleep that night. Every time he closed his eyes to try, the image of a cybernised Rose kept on popping back up; it seemed to be burnt into the back of his eyelids. He tried one last time to sleep, failed, and finally conceded defeat. He knew it was fruitless; even if he was tired (after all, even Time Lords needed to sleep, even if not so much as humans), he could do without having to go through that particular dream of Rose again, thankyouverymuch.

They were still in London, had been for the last few days since he'd brought Rose back to her mother after the nightmare that had been the parallel universe. He shuddered, involuntarily, at the reminder. Rose had taken Mickey's departure harder than he had thought she would; he wondered, off-and-on, whether her “father”'s rejection of her minutes before that had had anything to do with it. He suspected it was a factor, but how large was anybody's guess – and he wasn't about to cause Rose any more hurt by asking her and bringing the subject up again. She would tell him in her own time if there was anything she wanted him to know, he was certain of it.

Rassilon, he needed to see her; needed to prove to himself (again) that she was all right, that she had not been cybernised, that he had not lost her.

He knew he was behaving completely irrationally but at the moment he couldn't care less. She was the most important thing at the moment and he couldn't rest until he'd satisfied himself that she was all right. With that thought uppermost in his mind, he got up off his bed and changed out of his nightclothes back into the familiar brown pinstripes. Feeling slightly more confident already (it's amazing what clothes can do for you, isn't it? he thought), he proceeded to pretty much bounce his way towards the Control Room and the TARDIS doors. (Bouncing? Rose didn't call him Tigger-like for nothing, after all.)

He was out of the TARDIS and into Jackie's front room faster than – well, faster than most things. He would probably have to move the TARDIS if they were going to stay for much longer; Jackie was many things, but patient about large police telephone boxes in her front room she was not. Putting the TARDIS to the back of his mind for the present, he tried to remember which of the rooms in the flat belonged to Rose; for the first time he found himself cursing the fact that he came back so rarely.

The first door he opened led him into the bathroom. Useful to know, he thought, but not what I'm after just at the minute. He closed the door as quietly as he could, and then moved on to the next one. Opening it just as quietly as he had closed the previous one, he slipped inside and used the light from the estate outside (plus his sonic screwdriver) to ascertain that this must be Jackie's room. The picture on the night stand of Jackie and Pete on their wedding day was enough to convince him and he left the room and closed the door, trying to make as little noise as possible – which for him wasn't easy. The next door, opposite Jackie's, turned out to be the kitchen. The Doctor looked longingly at the jar of marmalade on the kitchen table for a moment or two before turning away and going towards the only door he hadn't opened, which had to be Rose's room, if only by a process of elimination.

The door to Rose's room was, surprisingly, not quite closed. He pushed it open far enough to let himself in before closing it silently behind him and using his sonic screwdriver to lock the door. He wasn't planning any “funny business”, but that didn't mean he wanted Jackie interrupting him.

“Doctor?” He was surprised – at this hour, 2 o'clock in the morning by Earth time, he'd expected her to be asleep. Then again, if her dreams had been anything like his, then her wakefulness was anything but surprising.

“How did you know it was me?” His voice was quiet, almost a whisper, but Rose could hear every word regardless.

“Who else do I know who uses a sonic screwdriver to lock a door?” He could hear the wry amusement in her voice and chuckled quietly. He sighed, then, and the next words out of his mouth were louder and in a soft, tender tone that Rose recognised immediately as the one he only ever used with her.

“I suppose you're right; yes, it's me. What's up, Rose, can't you sleep?”

“No.” The Doctor didn't really need to ask why not? He suspected he already knew. The next words were out of his mouth before he could stop them.

“Do you want me to stay here with you?” The answer, though, was immediate.

“Yes. Yes, please.” The tone of Rose's voice worried The Doctor and he was at her side in seconds, gathering her into his arms in a loose embrace, babbling semi-coherently as usual.

“It's all right. It's all right, darling; I've got you. I've got you, sweetheart... you're quite safe.”

Oh, shit.

“Doctor?”

He said nothing, merely tightening his arms around her. Rose dropped the matter for the present, realising perhaps that she would get nothing out of him for the present. Her next words, though, made The Doctor freeze.

“I'm cold.”

Ohgodohgodohgod, nonononono.

He couldn't move, or speak, for the life of him for a few seconds, before he shivered slightly – Rose felt it, and wondered, but for once made no comment – and tightened his arms around her still further, so tight now that Rose felt slightly uncomfortable. He buried his face in her hair, and the next thing either of them knew he was weeping softly.

“Oh, Rose; I nearly lost you,” he gasped. Rose blinked.

“Do you mind letting me breathe, Doctor, d'you think?” The Doctor released her briefly, which surprised her slightly; but then he turned her around to face him and wrapped a hand around her waist, pulling her back towards him. What he said next shocked her, as it didn't sound like him at all; it was raw and rough and spoken with a voice that sounded as if it were full of tears.

“I nearly lost you, Rose, and it would have been all my fault. I can't keep doing this to you, it's not fair; quite apart from anything else I can't stand it any more.”

“You're leaving me?” Rose's voice was full of fear.

“I can't.” The Doctor's voice cracked then, and Rose stole a look at his face; his eyes were red-rimmed from weeping. “I can't leave you, Rose, I simply can't, and therein lies the problem.”

“You can't? Why ...” Her sentence remained unfinished as The Doctor raised his other hand to her chin. He used his hand to angle her face up slightly before moving to cup her cheek. The red-rimmed eyes were locked on hers and she noticed all of a sudden that they were dark, far darker than she'd ever seen them before, and held an expression in them that she'd never seen directed at her. Before she had time to think, The Doctor had closed the gap between them and was kissing her desperately; shocked, Rose held back for fractions of a second before beginning to reciprocate, lifting one of her hands to bury itself in his hair. The Doctor made a delicious groaning sound in his throat and used his tongue to force his way into Rose's mouth, trying to say everything with this kiss that he had singularly failed to do with words.

For a minute or two they stood there, in the middle of Rose's bedroom, kissing like two people wildly in love with each other; Rose broke the kiss in order to breathe, but did not move away from The Doctor nor break eye-contact with him. His eyes looked impossibly darker now, but there was no mistaking the utter tenderness in his expression – all directed at her. For the second time in minutes she could hardly breathe. Then The Doctor broke the spell.

“C'mon, you. Bed. You'll freeze to death out here at this time of night.” He drew her bedclothes away from the bed to allow her to get into it, and then made to tuck her in, but was faced by a determined-looking Rose

“Oh no you don't; you're not going anywhere, sunshine. You said you'd stay with me all night.” His expression as he looked down at her was thoughtful

“You're right; I did, didn't I?” He made to sit on the floor beside her, but Rose was having none of that, either.

“Don't be more stupid than you can help, eh? Take off your shoes and get in here.” She had shoved over on the bed enough so there was room for him. He sighed, conceding defeat – he knew there was no winning this one – and sat down on the bed to remove his Converse. He also removed his sonic screwdriver from his pocket and unlocked Rose's bedroom door again – he didn't want to face Jackie trying to hammer it down in the morning – and then, finally, he allowed himself to lay down beside Rose and pull the covers over them both.

“Rose, I ...” He couldn't say it. Much as he might want to – and much as he knew he needed to – he couldn't say it.

“I know, Doctor. You don't need to say it; I know.” His arms went around her then and drew her close to him so that her head nestled against his shoulder. His Rose. He couldn't lose her, he couldn't.

Jackie Tyler found them there in the morning, wrapped around each other; she considered raising the roof by yelling at them but decided against it in the end. It had only been a matter of time, after all.