The Doctor turns, looking up from the Tardis console with a bright grin.
"Rose! Hello! I was just tightening the vortex navigation cones. Not that they're much use here but you never know when I ... we... might be able to make a quick exit."
It takes him a moment to take in her expression. He remembers coming-to with his hand in hers, with the same startling clarity as he remembers her facing him on Dalig Ulaf Stranden. Days, just days...
Just seeing him smile like that was enough to make her eyes light up, leave behind some of the desperate, painful ache that was throbbing in her chest. He was here, and that was something. They were together.
"I'm all right," she said, "I just...I thought we needed to talk. About..well, you know."
"Talk about...? " he looks confused for a moment. "What do we need to..?"
He remembers then, and cuts off mid sentence as he recalls holding her against him, kissing...
"Ah," he says.
He wonders if it's about the kiss, or the hallucinations, or something older and deeper than that. He remembers how these conversations go, there's always something else to come up, something to make sure he can avoid addressing ... anything.
He sits down on the grating and leans back against the console, running his hand through his hair, which is refusing to do anything but hang limply over his forehead.
"Not very good at what?" Her feet clattered against the metal of the stairs and she crossed to sit beside him, the tap of her knee touching against his. Their relationship had always been one based on close proximity, and at least that much hadn't changed now.
Her arms lifted and then she was holding him back, wrapping her arms even more tightly around him than she had let herself before. Her pulse was beating in her throat and she turned her face against his neck, smelling him in a slow, deep breath because she needed to hold onto him and feel him holding her back.
"We went to my apartment," she said quietly. "I wanted him to be close, so I could take care of him. He was...he was so confused."
His arms closing around her more was what she needed, even though her mind was reeling and then her throat was tightening and tears were streaming down her face. It was horribly embarrassing and she didn't know why she was crying now, except...
...except that she did know.
"When we were on the beach," she whispered, "the three of us. I was standing there between the two of you and..and..." Her voice cracked again and she had to inhale sharply to find words again.
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"Rose! Hello! I was just tightening the vortex navigation cones. Not that they're much use here but you never know when I ... we... might be able to make a quick exit."
It takes him a moment to take in her expression. He remembers coming-to with his hand in hers, with the same startling clarity as he remembers her facing him on Dalig Ulaf Stranden. Days, just days...
"Rose? Are you all right?"
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"I'm all right," she said, "I just...I thought we needed to talk. About..well, you know."
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He remembers then, and cuts off mid sentence as he recalls holding her against him, kissing...
"Ah," he says.
He wonders if it's about the kiss, or the hallucinations, or something older and deeper than that. He remembers how these conversations go, there's always something else to come up, something to make sure he can avoid addressing ... anything.
He sits down on the grating and leans back against the console, running his hand through his hair, which is refusing to do anything but hang limply over his forehead.
"Rose, I'm not very good at this."
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There's a thousand things he's sorry for but he's said the word so often he's started to doubt its meaning.
He wants to know. Can't help himself really.
"What happened, Rose? What happened after I left you with him?"
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"We went to my apartment," she said quietly. "I wanted him to be close, so I could take care of him. He was...he was so confused."
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That was good. That was how it was supposed to be. That was...
Something inside him stirs. He tries not to pay it any attention and simply tightens his hold on Rose.
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...except that she did know.
"When we were on the beach," she whispered, "the three of us. I was standing there between the two of you and..and..." Her voice cracked again and she had to inhale sharply to find words again.
"Why didn't you say it? Why?"
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