WARNING YOU NOW THERE WILL BE SPOILERS FOR EVERYTHING AFTER SERIES 4.

This fic is I don't even know. It was gonna be a series of unrelated oneshots, but it's really just gonna end up being a chapter fic, I know it.

Anyways, just plowed my way through the newer Doctor Who series so HERE COMES THE FANFICS. I did an art piece of Tennant when Rose left and had prints available in Artist Alley at a local anime convention and there were a LOT of Whovians there. I got a lot of "OMG WHY WOULD YOU EVEN CREATE THAT?" and "I DON'T WANNA WAKE UP EVERY MORNING SEE THIS AND SOB!"

But the dealer selling the liscenced BBC posters couldn't resist buying one ;P

ANYWAYS I'M RAMBLING STOP THAT. I promise: After this, author notes will be scarce.

PROLOGUE

"Rose." The girl in question didn't turn away from where the TARDIS had disappeared on the beach. She merely squeezed the Doctor's hand tighter in acknowledgement. The Doctor leaned down closer to her and whispered, "I'm still here. You still have me."

Without a word, Rose finally turned to face the doctor and studied him for a minute. He felt some sort of way about it—anxious? Nervous? Worried? She had on that face—the same one she had when he'd regenerated right in front of her—she was studying him, he knew. Looking for some sign that he was a fake, a copy.

But she found none. And with bone-crushing force, she threw herself at the man and grabbed onto him, for fear he'd disappear, too.

The Doctor rolled over and ran a hand down his face, yawning. Another fitful night of dreaming. At least this time the dreams were things that had happened to him, and not the other Doctor. He rolled onto his back and glanced over at the other side of the bed—empty.

He sat up and ran a hand through his hair just as Rose walked into the bedroom, hair damp and cheeks flushed from a shower. She offered up a smile, threw her towel over the back of the small desk chair, and sat down on the edge of the bed.

"Sleep well?" He didn't answer and she sighed. "There's gotta be something we can do."

"There isn't," he told her softly.

She stood, suddenly, and grabbed her phone off the nightstand next to the bed. "You can't live like this," she muttered angrily with a shrug, as if it was so simple. As if he could just…stop.

"I didn't sleep much," he started. He knew this was a losing argument—they'd been through this endless circle of an argument before, but there were things about himself—hundreds and hundreds of years of things—that he had yet to admit to Rose.

"I know," Rose murmured distracted by her phone.

The Doctor let out a puff of air and stood, grabbing Rose's hands in their frantic assault on the keys. "I didn't sleep much," he repeated, she looked up at him curiously. "On the TARDIS."

"Alright," she said slowly, closing her phone, "I'll bite."

"When I was traveling on the TARDIS—the other me, that is—I didn't sleep much. Didn't need to. Sleep is such a human thing—recovering from a mere 24 hours," he scoffed. He pushed away from Rose and dashed about the room as he would have in the console room of the TARDIS, pulling on various clothing.

"So how much sleep does a Time Lord need?" Rose prompted.

"Welllll," he began, pants around his waist but unbuttoned, fingers frozen. "Coupla hours every so often—wellll—when I say coupla hours—"

Rose raised an eyebrow at him and he immediately finished buttoning his jeans and pulled a t-shirt over his head. When he was finished dressing, he jammed his hands in his pockets and looked at her. The sudden seriousness to his demeanor worried Rose.

"Doctor," she said softly, reaching down and pulling his hands out of his pockets so that she could wrap his arms around her.

"If you think the dreams are bad now." He let out a humorless laugh. "I used to see all kinds of things. I guess the human in me tones them down a bit."

"What kind of things?"

"Guilt," he said simply. "People I couldn't help. People whose lives I've ruined because of my incessant need to show off."

"Lives you've—what?"

But the Doctor didn't elaborate. Instead he gave her a quick kiss and placed her phone back in her hands. "You'll be late to Torchwood if you don't hurry."

She paused as he walked to the other side of the bed, messing with something in his own little nightstand. "What did you dream about last night?"

He looked up, surprised. Not that she hadn't always asked what he'd been bothered by at night, but her curious tone caught something in his attention. "It was a memory. One of my own."

"Oh?"

He shut the drawer he was in and stood. "From Bad Wolf Bay. When the Doctor left and it was just you and me."

"And that made you restless?" she mumbled, not sure how to take that.

"No, no, no," he quickly relented. "It's just…not…I've had better memories since then."

She paused and narrowed her eyes at him, looking for his telltale signs of lying. Finding none she gave a little smile and headed for the door.

"You can always come with—" she began to call over her shoulder.

"I've had enough of Torchwood, if you don't mind," he called back. She waited until she heard the faint click of the front door to their apartment before he turned and leaned against the wall in thought.

Rose was right about one thing. He couldn't keep living like this. Going to bed tired and waking up exhausted, only resting during short, odd naps while Rose was working at Torchwood. He rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands and slid to the floor.

When did the dreams even start?

Next chapter is where we will begin the little oneshots, which will follow Tennent's last episodes and all of Matt's.