What Dreams May Come

In his dreams, she is with him, and they're dancing in the moonlight. Ten x Rose, Post-Doomsday

This was prompted by and written for the lovely tall-skinny-scottish over on Tumblr.

The TARDIS seemed much emptier now. Even when he had traveled on his own, it never felt like this, so barren and uninviting. There was a chill that wouldn't seem to go away; echoes of memories lingered in every room.

Her mug was still sitting in the sink beside his, waiting to be washed and put away; the romance novel she'd been half-way through was sitting on the coffee table in the library; her shirt was still strewn across the jump seat in the console room.

The Doctor rubbed at his eyes tiredly, exhaustion threatening to overtake him. But he couldn't fall asleep, not yet. He was still working on algorithms that would allow him to find Rose and see her one last time. He had to see her again, to hear her voice, to know she was okay, and to tell her everything he'd always meant to say. He needed to tell her how much he missed her, how proud he was of her, how she'd been his best mate. He needed to tell her how much he loved her, and how thankful he was for having met her.

The TARDIS hummed soothingly to him, dimming her lights subtly.

The Doctor shook his head and ruffled his hair with frantic fingers as the TARDIS's hum got lower and slower, reminiscent of old Gallifreyan lullabies.

"Stop that!" he growled, slamming his hands onto the console in frustration. "I don't want to go to sleep."

The Doctor knew he really ought to. It had been far too long since he'd last slept; it was going on six weeks, and he knew he couldn't continue on like this forever. His body would shut down eventually, and it might be dangerous if he collapsed out of nowhere on some planet. Not that he planned on doing much travelling any time soon; he had a bigger task that needed his attention.

Truthfully, the Doctor was frightened of falling asleep; he didn't want to face whatever images his subconscious might conjure. He didn't want to see Rose falling away from him again and again; that image haunted his waking mind, he didn't need it to infiltrate his unconscious one too.

However, before he knew it, a heavy wave of lethargy overcame him. Damned meddling ship. She hummed apologetically, but doubled her efforts to get him to rest. She was feeling everything he was feeling; she felt his emotional duress and desperation, as well as his exhaustion, and she needed him to sleep.

The Doctor tried making one last complaint to the TARDIS before his eyes slipped shut and darkness took him.

In his dreams, Rose was with him. She was beside him, laughing. She was across from him, stealing his chips. She was beneath him, panting and writhing and pleading. She was curled against him, her face buried in his chest. She was twirling 'round and 'round as he spun her in his arms.

Oh, she was beautiful as she moved with him, a grin splitting her face. Her smile was one he would cross dimensions to see again; it could draw even him out of a foul mood. It was a smile one couldn't help but return. Her whole face would light up as she laughed at some silly little thing he'd said or done for the sole purpose of making her smile.

He drew her closer and began dancing slower, savoring the feel of her in his arms. His hearts melted in his chest as she nestled closer, resting her head against his hearts, and he wanted to stay in this moment forever...

When the Doctor finally awoke a few hours later, he felt groggy but rested. His back was achy; he finally realized he'd fallen asleep on the floor of the console room, and the hard grating had dug into him.

Huh...he'd never fallen asleep during repairs before. He must have been more tired than he stood, stretching, and tried to regain his bearings.

That was the best kip he'd had in awhile, despite it being unintentional and on the floor. He'd also just had the most perfect dream, which probably explained his feeling of weightlessness. He and Rose were dancing beneath the twin moons of some distant planet. She made for a beautiful sight, bathed in the silvery moonlight.

Hmm, perhaps that was where they should go next. He knew of a few planets that were renowned for their romantic atmosphere, fine dining, and dancing. Rose would love that.

Mind made up, he bounded to her room, trying to figure out that niggling feeling in the back of his mind that he was forgetting something… Oh well. He'd fallen asleep while performing maintenance on the TARDIS. If he'd forgotten to reconnect a wire or replace a bolt, she'd let him know before trying to take off somewhere.

"Roooseee," he called softly, pushing open her door. "Rose, time to…"

He stopped dead in his tracks. His stomach bottomed out and the air whooshed out of his lungs.

Empty. Her room was empty. The bed was unmade, and clothes were strewn around the floor, but the room's occupant was nowhere in sight.

The Doctor barely noticed when his respiratory bypass kicked in; he was only aware that he felt so cold and shattered. His hearts seemed to be frozen in his chest and his muscles were locked in place, rendering him immobile.

She was gone; Rose was gone. He'd lost her. How had he forgotten that she was gone?

The TARDIS hummed sorrowfully in his mind, trying to comfort him, but he shied away from her mental touch.

He had feared sleeping because he hadn't wanted to watch Rose falling away from him, but, oh, that was preferable to this. This crushing despair was unbearable. His legs led him mechanically to her bed, where they finally gave out and he sank into her comforter.

It still smelled like her. And of him. It smelled like them.

Tears prickled his eyes as he curled up around her pillow, the one that smelled of vanilla and apples. He pressed his face into it as the tears leaked down his face.

Despair and agony engulfed him, threatening to rip him apart at the seams, as he sobbed for Rose, and for himself, and for everything they'd lost.