Though she hardly ever worked Saturdays, and certainly wasn't working that day in particular, Rose still caught the bus to Henrik's, though it was a little later in the morning than she usually did on weekdays.

Having worried herself sick over the whole thing the night before, she felt too guilty to wait the whole weekend. If she'd explained any of it to her Mum or Mickey or Shareen or anyone else in her life, she knew they'd have jumped to tell her she'd done the right thing (and probably would have told her that she should never have befriended someone as emotionally ephemeral and in such a volatile situation as the Doctor was in the first place). But that didn't matter, because regardless of any objective logic, she knew that she should never have said any of it. She'd been shocked, and she should have just shut up until she had time to get over that and properly process things. She'd never been particularly good about not letting her mouth get away from her, though.

That hurt expression on the Doctor's face when she'd claimed not to know him at all was still bouncing insistently around in her brain, even half a day later.

She remembered with perfect clarity that moment weeks ago when he'd said those telling words about his past: "They burn." She knew that whatever other facets there were to his personality and whatever peculiar quirks he had that she hadn't yet seen, in that moment she'd known something truly vital about him, without question. To say otherwise was to pretend that it hadn't clearly been difficult for him to share that part of himself with her when he'd obviously kept it shielded from most everyone else he encountered. That man that she'd seen then wasn't someone she could, or wanted to, just discard. She owed him better than that.

When she arrived to find him and tell him exactly that, however, not to mention to potentially beg his forgiveness if he required her to, he was nowhere to be found.

Rose looked around as if he might suddenly appear from thin air. She knew that she looked horribly bereft standing in front of that empty bench. She had no idea where else he got off to, though she supposed he must duck away sometimes to eat and wash and whatever else he needed to do occasionally. He didn't seem to be wasting away or giving off body odour or whatever, after all.

But even knowing that there were probably any number of good reasons for him not being there at that particular moment, Rose had a strange underlying sense that his sudden absence wasn't due to anything quite that simple or temporary.

All she could think was that when she came back on Monday, he'd be there, just as he always was. He had claimed that he went elsewhere during the weekends, after all. It was her own fault that she hadn't legitimately believed him, presuming that every aspect of his experiences except those for which she was present must be taking place entirely inside his head. It was perfectly likely that he might physically travel even while he dreamed. Maybe it was like sleepwalking... no, actually, that didn't help at all, she quickly decided. All it did was give her mental images of him sleepwalking right in front of a car, not completely unlike what she'd nearly done the first day they'd met.

Monday, she swore. Monday. He'd be fine until then. He had to be.

Except that he wasn't there on Monday, either, and Rose barely managed to talk herself out of a panic that would have caused herself to say 'to hell with it' and walk out of work well before the end of her shift so that she could go and search for him. As if she actually had any chance of finding him, when he could possibly be anywhere in London. Or anywhere in the world, she supposed, given that he'd had two days to travel (though she had to admit that she had no idea where he'd get the money for a plane or train ticket).

She would have stayed camped out on his bench all night just waiting, and hoping, for his return, except that she was just as afraid for herself alone out there in the middle of the night as she always was for him.

Besides, he was far more likely to show up during the day than in the middle of the night, given that that was when he at least had a reason to return there. He was supposed to meet her in the mornings and at lunchtime, and she doubted he'd forgotten that. Regardless of what had happened between them on Friday, she thought that he'd surely eventually try to see her again in an attempt to patch things up. Or, at minimum, come back for a few minutes just to tell her that he wouldn't be meeting her anymore.

Except, of course, that she already knew that the Doctor was the type of man who would, in certain situations, run away instead of facing a problem head-on. She hoped that she wasn't now one of those things he thought he had to flee from and forget all about. At the very least, she wanted him to remember her.

Oh, who did she think she was kidding? She wanted more than that. She wanted lunch every day, and warm greetings before work in the morning, and at least catching a glimpse of him at the end of the day. And maybe, just maybe, a lot more than that.

If only he would show up – he didn't on Tuesday, or Wednesday either – and actually give her back the possibility of ever having any of that again.

Thursday lunch this week was spent with Mickey, as had been their custom, and as should have really happened the last two weeks. She'd made plans with him first, after all, and he was the one who was her boyfriend, and so he probably had more of a right than anyone else to expect her to actually show up when she said she would instead of all-too-willingly spending her time elsewhere.

Only today, when she was actually there, where she was supposedly meant to be, it just felt plain wrong.

"It's not workin'," she announced. "This. Us."

The announcement came out of nowhere, on the heels of Mickey complaining avidly about cigarette smokers who seemed to purposely direct their exhales straight at him when he glared at them. And yet, in a much more important way, it didn't come out of nowhere at all. It had been coming for ages, really.

Mickey looked a little upset, certainly. He even looked just ever so slightly hopeful that she might change her mind. But he didn't look surprised in the slightest. He'd known something was off just as surely as she had. He'd have been blind not to when it was so obvious. And even if the Doctor never returned and she didn't so much as see him in passing again, that didn't matter when it came to this, because whatever the heck she had with him wasn't really the root of her issues with Mickey.

They just weren't meant to be together. Not long-term, anyway, though it had been a good time while it lasted.

"Is there someone else?" Mickey asked.

"I dunno," Rose said. "There might be. It's a bit hard to say. But that's not really why, you know."

"Yeah, didn't think so." Mickey shrugged. "I always knew you wanted somethin' bigger, I guess. But I still hoped. Bit of an idiot that way, me."

"Not an idiot," Rose insisted.

"Just a bit," Mickey insisted with a grin.

"Oh, all right then," Rose teased. "Maybe a little. At least as much as I am."

"At least."

Rose had no idea what would have happened in different circumstances, had their relationship not died a fairly natural death. She hated to think that Mickey might have walked away and never looked back at her. As it stood, it seemed clear that they weren't going to stop being friends any time soon, though Rose fully expected Mickey to embark on some fairly extensive vetoing of any of her prospective boyfriends (she tried not to picture the expression the Doctor would wear while being picked on by Mickey, of all people, as she thought that).

Rose was glad. She didn't want to lose him completely, and they'd actually always been better as friends, anyway.

She left Mickey with tentative plans for them to go to the pub together (some things never changed) on Saturday. When she returned to work, she tried not to notice the still-empty bench or feel that sight stab deep into her chest.

She emerged from work hours later and very nearly headed straight for the bus stop without even looking, not wanting to have her vague hopes snuffed out yet again. But, in the end, she couldn't quite help herself. She had to know.

It was just as well she'd forced herself to look, though, because the Doctor was sitting up on that bench of his staring straight at her. He didn't say a word, looking as if he wasn't entirely sure that it would be welcome.

Rose stormed right up to him, then, and slapped him on the arm, and he looked at her with an almost betrayed look despite it being a fairly light swat (at least as far as her inherited slapping abilities went). "I've been goin' totally mad with worry," she said. "Where'd you go?"

The Doctor looked confused. "I... don't really know. What's today?"

"Thursday," Rose answered. She cleared her throat, trying to rid herself of that annoying little wobble that she could feel making its way up her throat as she spoke. If she was going to be in any way emotional just now, she'd really rather be just plain angry, thanks. "You've been missin' for almost a week!"

"Oh. That's odd."

"'Odd'?" Rose asked. "That's all you're gonna say about it?"

"Um... yes?" the Doctor suggested tentatively. At Rose's glare he quickly corrected, "No. No, of course not. That would be... No, what I meant to say was... I'm sorry."

He very nearly seemed to phrase that as a question as well, but Rose decided to let that slide. Given that it was the Doctor, she should probably have just been glad it had taken him so few tries to realise that might need saying.

Sighing, her annoyance mostly escaping along with her breath, Rose said ruefully, "Only you could manage to lose a whole week, just like that."

"I didn't lose it, precisely," the Doctor said. "I remember bits of it. I wandered around the Horsehead Nebula for a while – beautiful place – and I think I remember drinking quite a few banana daiquiris – probably why my memory's all hazy, come to think of it – and I think maybe... there was something about a pool? And singing 'Hey Jude' at the top of my lungs. The Beatles. Now there were some men who knew how to party. Maybe I took a trip back to the 1960s? That would explain a lot."

"By the sounds of it, what you probably did was take a trip to the police station, where you likely spent half the week in a cell for public nuisance and any number of other charges," Rose said.

"Hmm, I seem to remember there were metal bars at some stage," the Doctor agreed pensively.

Rose laughed – it was better than crying, after all – and seriously contemplated pulling out her hair. "I'm sorry," she said. "It's my fault you went anywhere in the first place. I shouldn't have run off without sortin' things out with you first. Look at what happened because of me."

"No," the Doctor said firmly. "That's not true. And you were right last week. I'm far more dangerous than you know. And you'd definitely be better off without me. If I was a better man, I wouldn't have just left; I'd have stayed gone."

"I don't need you to make my decisions for me," Rose told him, incensed once again. "I've already got enough people willin' to jump in and do that. I can think for myself. And I did think. I had a whole week to do that. Doctor, I want you to stick around, I do, but I sure as hell can't keep doin' what I've been doin', ridin' the emotional rollercoaster from hell, not to mention stayin' up all hours of the night worrin' about whether you're all right."

"I'm fine, Rose," assured the Doctor. "I'm always fine. I've survived all kinds of things with no trouble. Well, not much trouble. Well..."

"Look, I know you wanna be all self-sufficient, and you've got your TARDIS or whatever," Rose said softly. "And maybe I'm bein' selfish here, but I need to know that you've got somewhere you're goin' home to every night. I can't do this otherwise."

"I already do. This is my home." He pointed downwards.

"Sorry, but a bench really isn't a home. Not in the ways that matter."

"Of course it is!" the Doctor insisted. "You know it's not really a bench; I'm sure I've explained this already. It's only disguised by the chameleon circuit to look that way so it blends in. It's supposed to change appearances wherever I go to best match its surroundings so that no one notices it. Very clever design... well, except that it doesn't really work how it's supposed to anymore. It's been stuck looking like a bench for years now. Which isn't too bad, considering. Most places have benches, even if they aren't always blue and made of wood."

"Look, either way, it's still only just a place to stay," Rose said. "'Home' is about more than that. C'mon, grab your coat and let me show you. Please."

He seemed sceptical. When she held out her hand, though, as always he didn't hesitate to take it.

"This is the sort of place you could easily be livin'," Rose said as they ascended. "It's Council-subsidised and everythin', so it doesn't matter that you don't have a lot of money."

"It's got too many walls," the Doctor protested. He stopped halfway up on the way to Rose's floor to duck around and peer curiously into someone else's window. "And curtains! I hate those." He shook his head and added much more quietly, "Really, really hate them."

In her mind's eye Rose could picture long drapes going up in flames. She wondered whether he was thinking of the same thing. She wondered whether he could hear screaming in the background and, if so, how many voices. He never had told her the details. All she knew was what she'd been able to infer.

"I know it's got a lot of things you don't like," Rose said patiently, "and I'm sorry about that, but what's more important is that it's also got a roof. And locks on the doors."

"The TARDIS has a lock," the Doctor contended somewhat petulantly. "How else do you think I keep all the people across the universe that are out for my blood away? I've got to have a safe place to retreat to."

Rose sighed. "Just... let me show you somethin', all right? Then I won't keep you here if you really don't want to stay."

The Doctor looked highly put upon, but he continued to follow her up the stairs regardless.

When pushed open her front door, she was glad to find the lights all turned off, signalling that her Mum wasn't home yet. "This is my flat. My Mum's and mine, I mean," Rose said.

"It's small," he remarked as he stepped through the door and turned on the spot.

"As compared to, say, your bench?" Rose asked pointedly. She gave him a gentle push in the direction she wanted to take him, and he (mostly) willingly let himself be guided.

"The TARDIS is bigger on the inside, of course," he jibed.

"'Course it is," she murmured under her breath. "Because that makes loads of logical sense. Here," she added more loudly, reaching through the doorway and flicking the light switch. "This is my bedroom. This is what I wanted you to see."

The Doctor's mouth was hanging open, stunned. "It's... pink. Very, very pink. In fact, I didn't actually know there was this much pink in the whole universe, and I've seen a lot of this universe of ours in my time."

"Oh hush," Rose reproved. "Obviously the pink's not what I brought you here for. Here."

"Oh, photos!" the Doctor said, sounding considerably more excited, as Rose gestured at the pictures in question.

"Yeah, but they're more than just that. They're an entire life so far. My life. Almost everythin' important that's ever happened to me happened in this house, and even for those things that went down elsewhere, most of the fallout afterwards was here. My parents – my Dad initially, then my Mum took over when he died – took photos of pretty much everythin'. All my firsts: first words, first steps, when I learned to ride a bike, when I left for the start of school, all of that. There's even a picture hidden away somewhere of me goin' on my first official date, though I was completely mortified that my Mum made Roger Steinwick actually stand there, out beside where the telly is now, and pose with me for that, like we were headed out to our Leaver's Ball or somethin'. Not that I ever got to go to my actual Leaver's Ball, mind, what with leavin' school before I could."

"Oh, I bet you didn't miss a thing," the Doctor was quick to assure her. "Schools never get those sorts of things right. The First Night of Saint Verilis in the 79th century – now that was a proper ball!"

"You'll have to take me there someday," Rose said, wishing he actually could. "You know, though, silly missed dances that don't really mean anythin' aside, there are some less than happy memories in this house, and I wouldn't wanna leave them behind either. They're the kinds of things that the camera didn't get pulled out for, but they still left their mark. Like that cushion over there in the corner: it has streaks of mascara on the back of it from where I cried my eyes out when I finally left Jimmy Stone and moved back in here. Although I s'pose that's as much a happy memory as a sad one, really, come to think of it."

"Why would you ever want to hold onto something like that?" the Doctor asked. "Why would you choose to remember things that hurt you?"

Rose drew in a deep breath, realising that this was probably the most important thing he'd ever asked her, so damn it she'd better get the answer right.

"Because," she said, "it's all important, even the bits that are painful – maybe especially them. They're what make us who we are. And holdin' onto the pain is better than losin' ourselves tryin' to forget, right?"

The Doctor shook his head, clearly not understanding how she could think that, but at least she knew he'd heard her words, and that they were probably even now lingering somewhere in the back of his mind.

"Even if I moved away from this place physically – if I found my own flat or whatever – it would still be my anchor," Rose explained. "It'd still be the place where all my memories have roots. And it's where my family lives. That's what makes it a home, not just a house, get me?"

"My TARDIS contains a lot of memories," the Doctor said, but she didn't think it was just her imagination telling her that he seemed slightly more unsure now than he had when she'd started talking. "The things I've seen and done in it are just as important as what you have here. I can't just leave those behind."

Rose frowned. "I... No," she said, a slight sinking feeling of realisation forming in her gut. "I guess maybe you can't at that. They're what make you you."

It wasn't that she didn't actually quite like that the Doctor had all these mad stories and fantastic dreams about being more or less the most amazing person in the universe, or that she wanted to take those away from him. But, for his own sake, she wanted to help him grab onto the opportunity to heal, if she possibly could. And, like it or not, these hallucinations of his were keeping him from being able to deal with other things. If he couldn't move on from them...

"Doesn't mean you can't make your new memories elsewhere, though," Rose finally added hopefully, an idea occurring to her.

"Or that you can't," he countered.

"Yeah, maybe." Then Rose started laughing, finally breaking the tension between them. "We should just both run away and spend the rest of our days livin' just off some beach somewhere. I hear Barcelona's nice. That'd solve everythin', don't you think?"

"With you? Sounds brilliant."

Rose only wished she had enough money (or that he had a real, working TARDIS) to actually make something like that happen.

The sound of the front door opening and her mother calling out her name prevented her from launching fully into a daydream about lying on the sand with the Doctor rubbing sunscreen into her back... which was just as well, she supposed, since the Doctor wouldn't necessarily be entirely comfortable hearing the pleased little sounds that a vivid fantasy about that kind of thing would inevitably make her emit.

Her Mum appeared abruptly in Rose's doorway and paused, her eyes zooming in almost like a magnet onto the unexpected male presence in the corner of Rose's room.

"Oi, so who's this, then?" her Mum asked.

The Doctor, who had stood up to a drunken and enraged Jimmy Stone without a single sign of hesitation, practically cowered as Jackie Tyler's levelled her glare on him.

"Mum, this is the Doctor."

Her mother looked the Doctor up and down, taking in the sight of his heavily creased suit, and asked doubtfully, "What kind of doctor's he s'posed to be, exactly?"

Before the Doctor could jump in with some kind of smart remark, or the truth (Rose wasn't sure which would be worse in this case), Rose quickly said, "He has a Ph.D. in physics."

Jackie looked as though she might be persuaded to believe that given time, at least, but she still didn't appear particularly mollified.

"And what's he doin' here?"

"He's, um... stayin'. Here. For the night. On the couch." Rose wanted to bury her face in her hands and never pull it back out right about then. Could it have been made any more clear that there was potential romantic tension there for her mother to viciously pry into until she learned every little detail?

"Obviously," the Doctor affirmed, clearly nervous. "There are only two beds in this place, so where else would I possibly sleep?"

Well, that answered that.

The Doctor was quelled back to silence – a monumental task, Rose had to say – by Jackie's stare whipping back around to effectively pin him.

Her Mum nodded slowly. Dangerously slowly, Rose thought. "Stayin' the night. Is he now?" she asked darkly.

Rose gritted her teeth stubbornly. "Yeah. Just for the one night," she stressed. "Since he's got nowhere else to go and all."

The Doctor looked like he was about to protest that last claim, but Rose shook her head slightly to stop him from saying anything about his bench. The last thing she needed was to give her mother any more reason to suspect that the Doctor was unwanted trouble.

"Excuse us," her Mum demanded of the Doctor. "I have to talk to my daughter."

Rose sighed and silently mouthed a 'sorry' at the Doctor, closing the door to her room after her and leaving him alone in there after she followed her mother out.

"What about Mickey?" Jackie immediately demanded.

"I dunno. What about him? We broke up. Besides, the Doctor and I aren't a couple or anythin'."

Her Mum snorted disbelievingly. "And why d'you call him that anyway? 'The Doctor'. Hasn't he even deigned to tell you his real name?"

"It's just what everyone calls him, all right?" Rose said. "Just leave it, will you?"

"Right, I'm s'posed to just accept that I'm suddenly sharin' a roof with some weirdo cradle-robbin' bloke who doesn't even have a proper name or place of his own to go home to. Fat chance of that. Is he married? Is that it? Has the wife chucked him because she found out about you two?"

Rose didn't think that telling her Mum that she thought the Doctor might actually have been married once upon a time and that he refused to talk about it was the best way to get her on board, so she simply shook her head. "He's not married. His lease ran out and he's still lookin' for a place, that's all."

"And he can't stay in a hotel because..."

Rose rolled her eyes. "Because he's not made of money, maybe? You and I couldn't afford to live in a hotel for more than a day or two at a time either, probably. Aren't you the one who's all worried about me gettin' airs and thinkin' I'm above myself? Well look, here's someone who's from a similar situation. You should be happy, don't you think?"

"Mickey's from the Estate as well," her Mum reminded her. "And he's more your age."

Rose also imagined telling her mother that the Doctor was – or at least believed himself to be – about nine hundred years older than her. That would go over well.

"And Mickey's always been –"

"Maybe, much as I like him, I just don't really wanna spend the rest of my life with Mickey Smith!" Rose exclaimed, then realised that she was loud enough that the Doctor could probably hear her. She lowered her voice again. "Don't you think that should be my decision to make?"

"Like with Jimmy Stone? Because that was such a good choice you made all on your lonesome there," her Mum sniped.

Rose made a noise of frustration. "I was a stupid kid then, and I admit that I was wrong. But I'm twenty now. I'm smarter and I know what I want."

"Doesn't sound like it to me," her Mum remarked. "Just a few minutes ago you were claimin' full out that you weren't even datin'. Now you're actin' like I've just turned him down for permission to marry you or somethin'."

"All right, fine. You're right," Rose admitted grudgingly. "Is that what you wanna hear? I don't know, Mum! I don't know how he feels, or even really how I feel for sure. Not entirely. But I do know that the Doctor's a good man, and he's a friend, and needs me right now, so either he's stayin' here tonight or I guess I'm leavin'."

Jackie's eyes narrowed. "Fine. It'd serve you right if I kicked you out for a bit so you can appreciate what you have here, missy, but then I'd probably never see you again because you'll run off with him out of spite."

Rose thought longingly of Barcelona once again, hoping nothing of that wish showed on her face. "You know I wouldn't really. I told you, I've grown up since those days."

"I'll believe it when I see it," her Mum said doubtingly. "And you're not foolin' me in the slightest, by the way. I called it what it was weeks ago, before I even met him: man trouble. I wish for your sake that I could say otherwise, but any idiot could see how different you've been actin', and the only thing that I've ever seen that does somethin' like that is love. So puttin' all your unconvincin' 'just for tonight's aside, I just bet that I'll be seein' him still here tomorrow night, won't I? And the next, and the next, for the foreseeable future?"

Rose just shrugged, not wanting to be actively caught in a lie, as her mother always seemed so capable of doing. After all, if Rose could convince the Doctor, that was exactly what she was hoping for, at least for the time being.

"Right. I don't know why I even try," Jackie moaned. "You'll do just as you like, I s'pose. Just don't come cryin' to me when it's Jimmy all over again."

When Rose returned to her room, she found the Doctor flipping idly through one of her old photo albums, not seeming to be aware that that could potentially be considered a breach of privacy. Although, Rose supposed, considering that she'd brought him back to the flat precisely because she wanted to show him her photos (among other things), maybe that wasn't quite true in this case.

"You know, you were a really beautiful child, for a human," the Doctor commented casually. "Not much has changed in that respect."

Rose felt like she'd just walked into some strange parallel universe where the Doctor was actually capable of being that remarkably open about saying things like that. It was weird.

She had to admit that she kind of liked it, though.

"Um, thanks," she said.

The Doctor looked like he was hovering, getting ready to make a break for the doorway now that she'd moved clear of it. Apparently he had one last thing to say before going, though, because he asked, "Did you mean what you said? About you and Mickey? Sorry," he quickly added, "I didn't mean to listen in, but I couldn't really help it. Time Lord hearing."

Ah, Rose thought, that might go a good way towards explaining his sudden change in attitude. She supposed that hearing that she had left her boyfriend and was – at least according to her own mother – probably in love with him likely did wonders to answer any questions he might have had and to boost his confidence on that score.

"That's all right," Rose said. "I s'pose I wasn't exactly bein' very discrete, was I? I... yeah. I did mean it. Mickey and I aren't about to grow old together as anythin' other than just friends. And as for the anythin' else you might have heard..." Rose shrugged, trying to be flip, but unknowingly smiling broadly as she did so.

The Doctor nodded as he leaned in and pressed a brief, unexpected but undeniably sweet kiss against her lips. "Good," was all he said before leaving the room for the night.

Rose was left with her eyes closed and her mouth slightly parted, still tingling from the kiss, as the door fell shut.

Well, she decided. That certainly answered that question.

Though it still didn't give her any real answers about what to actually do about it.

"I should go back," the Doctor announced brusquely in the morning when Rose was getting ready for work. He was clearly trying not to, but Rose thought he sounded almost panicked, and he kept glancing around like the walls were closing in on him. "I can't stay in here."

"All right," Rose said quickly. "You need to get out for a bit. I get that. You could meet me for lunch like usual, but then you could come home with me again when I finish work. That'd be great. We could cook a completely non-chips-related meal when we get back, and maybe even wash your suit. I really have no idea how you manage to stay smellin' like a man with average hygiene – above average, really – when you're spendin' all your time out on the streets, but a handy shower and private washin' machine have still gotta be better than whatever system you've got rigged up."

The Doctor huffed. "Rose, the TARDIS does have a bathroom, you know. And I dare say it's more sophisticated and technologically advanced than anything your mother might have picked out. Also, Time Lords simply don't sweat as much as humans."

"Yeah, all right, I'm sure that's true," Rose said coaxingly. "But humour me anyway?"

The Doctor shifted uncomfortably in place, and Rose smiled, knowing he was going to cave.

"I bought banana-scented shower gel a week ago, by the way, just in case," Rose added.

Suddenly the Doctor didn't seem to be so completely opposed to the idea, though he did still appear highly suspicious of her. "You're just trying to make me stay here longer so I'll end up not wanting to leave at all, aren't you?"

"And what, there'd be somethin' wrong with that?" Rose asked innocently.

She practically skipped out the door to the accompaniment of the Doctor muttering about being manipulated, though she honestly didn't think he actually seemed all that irritated.

It probably helped that he left the small flat with her, getting out into the open air and slowly dispelling his sudden claustrophobia or whatever it was.

Rose hoped it also helped that they walked to the bus stop together hand-in-hand.

He did show up to meet her for lunch. Despite having spent that small amount of time with him in the interim, she was undeniably pleased by finally being able to have lunch with him again for the first time in nearly a week. And she was even more pleased that, whatever subtle and not-so-subtle shifts were clearly going on between them, things were as completely at ease as ever when they were laughing over servings of chips.

When she left work at the end of the day, he was still there, right back on his bench, where she'd always known she could find him before but now kind of wished he would abandon (as long as it meant joining her instead, obviously).

"Come home with me." She didn't make it into an order, although she almost wanted to, knowing he'd probably go along with it to try to please her if she insisted that strongly... at least he probably would this time. Not forever, she thought, since he did certainly have a mind and a stubbornness all of his own. And that was what she really wanted from him. A choice of his own, and forever, all in one.

So it was merely phrased as a request. And, as such, he looked like he had no idea whether he wanted to comply with it.

"I don't know how to do this," he told her. "To do what I know you want for me. To go back to a house every day and pretend like I belong in a place like that anymore."

"I know it's hard for you. But please, try. Just try. If it really doesn't work, we'll find another way. But right now, this is all I can see."

The Doctor sighed, but he nodded. "All right," he said. "I'll come with you."

Rose smiled, and the Doctor mirrored it despite his apprehension, and Rose thought she had at least a fleeting chance that things were going to work out just fine after all.

"Your mother's going to be annoyed to see me here again," the Doctor said as he stepped into Rose's room.

"Oh, she expects it," Rose said, rolling her eyes. "And she'll just have to live with it, anyway, seein' as how it's important to me."

The Doctor frowned. "You do seem set on it. And why is that, again?"

"Lots of reasons. Mainly, I hate only seein' you for an hour or two a day, and I hate even more not knowin' where you are and whether you're all right," Rose said. "You're so busy dashin' off to other worlds that I'm just left behind wonderin'."

"Oh, is that all you're worried about?" the Doctor asked, suddenly seeming oddly cheerful at the prospect. "But that's easy to fix! Really very easy, honestly. You can come with me," he offered. "No, it'll be perfect," he continued when Rose started to protest. "No more job that you don't even like at the shop to worry about, no," he gulped, "mother to report home to. And remember when I told you about the third moon of Garek Foosh? You could actually see places like that for yourself. Doesn't that sound better than what things are like now?"

She idly wondered what would happen if she actually said yes to his proposal; if she claimed that she would go off flying into time and space with him, never to have to come back here if they didn't want to. Would he lose himself entirely in the fantasy without his daily 'returns' to Earth – to her – to ground him somewhat? Or would the illusion fall down around his ears when he discovered that, no matter how hard he tried and how much he wanted it, that blue wooden bench of his was just never going to be able to really take the two of them on trips across time and space after all.

Either way, she suspected that the ultimate outcome was that he'd be left a very different man. Though she did have to wonder whether it was selfish of her to want him remain the same man she'd... that she'd fallen in love with, she couldn't help but think that there had to be a real reason that his mind had resorted to fantasies to escape from the far harsher realities. Was it really likely that he'd be any more able to cope if the world as he knew it was torn away now than he had been then? Surely taking it all away completely wouldn't just leave him different, but also broken.

She didn't want that for him. Never.

Hopefully it didn't have to come down to that choice, though. Hopefully there was another way.

"I wanna be with you," she told him seriously, "always. Wherever you go. But you know how crazy Mum would go if she didn't even know what year or which part of the universe I was in at any given moment? I can't do that to her." The Doctor's face started to fall, but Rose quickly pressed her palm to his cheek. "But we could still be together. You could stay here instead. Here with me. We could have a different kind of adventure."

"The one adventure I can never have," he said quietly.

"Yeah? Says who?" she asked.

"Rose, I had a family once," he said. The pain he felt in talking about this topic was tangible. "I lost them. How can I do that all over again?"

Rose grasped his hand, bringing his knuckles up to her lips for a moment. "I know it hurts. But what's it matter whether or not you can regenerate and exist for a thousand years or more if you don't take risks and actually live durin' that time? You know that's true already. You've told me so before. It's the same reason you travel the universe even though it's dangerous, right? But life right here on Earth could be just as excitin'. It's what we make of it. And you and me? We could make it fantastic."

She could tell he was struggling with it, but there was no way to ease his path. She couldn't force him to live in her reality every day without hurting him, probably irreparably. He had to make the decision himself.

"If I stayed..." he began, and Rose's hopes soared. "If I did, then how long would you stay with me?"

"Forever," she promised. "Haven't I already made that clear enough? Idiot."

The Doctor took both of her hands in his as he leaned forward and kissed her. When he pulled back, grinning, Rose was left with a piece of cool metal in her hands. She held up the shiny Yale key and looked questioningly at him.

"It's my key to the TARDIS," he said. "It's yours now. You can do whatever you like with it. I won't need it anymore."

He reached out and wiped away a tear that Rose hadn't even realised was rolling slowly down her cheek. "I really hope that's not sad crying," he said.

Rose shook her head at him. "Really, really not even a little bit," she said.

She threaded her fingers loosely into his wild hair and pulled him with her as she fell backwards onto the bed.

Rose hummed cheerfully as she put the kettle on. Her Mum took one look at her expression and sighed, walking away muttering.

The Doctor, either seeing or just sensing that the coast was now clear, popped his head into the kitchen to check on her.

"You're wearing it!" the Doctor exclaimed, walking up and tugging at the key now hanging around Rose's neck.

"Yeah, well, be a bit silly not to," Rose said. "Your TARDIS is what brought you to me, after all. I wouldn't even still be here if you hadn't been on that street that first day we met. But I've gotta say, it took me ages to actually find where the damn key disappeared to. Turns out it got all caught up in the sheets when we..."

"Tangled them?" The Doctor sounded vaguely shy about it, though Rose could also see the tiniest of suggestive grins pushing its way slowly into existence on his face. She laughed.

"That's one way of puttin' it," she agreed. "You know, I think you're a little bit giddy this mornin'. I dunno that I've ever seen you like that before."

"I doubt it. I haven't... you know... since... before." The Doctor shared a wry smile with her. "Probably, now I think of it, telling you that beforehand would have been a smarter idea. But it's not just that in itself, it's... for the first time in a very long time, I don't feel guilty about wanting something that's good."

"You can, you know. Want things for yourself," Rose told him.

"Well, in that case, what I really very badly want is not to have to live with your mother," the Doctor said, pulling a face.

"Ugh, yes. Trust me, the way you two act around each other, I don't want that either. Not for long, at least," Rose said. "Though I guess I'm gonna need a bit of time to get some money together to move out."

The Doctor nodded thoughtfully, then seemed to sort of steel himself as if to say something difficult. "I might... that is... I don't normally find it this difficult to find the right words."

"You're tellin' me!" Rose joked, but shut up again quickly, seeing his continued seriousness.

"What I'm trying to say is that there might be a way I could help. With that. The money situation, I mean. I never wanted to... but it might be time to at least think about it."

The Doctor walked over to where his coat was draped and pulled out of one of the pockets that plastic bag of his that made its way in and out of sight semi-frequently, as if he kept pulling it out to get something from it, or maybe just to contemplate its existence. He held it out to her like an offering.

"Here," he said. "I've been carrying these with me for too long. I can't... I can't look at them myself, but maybe I should at least stop dragging them around like a ball and chain."

Rose took the bag and he gestured at it encouragingly before turning away and leaving the room. Rose untied the plastic and looked inside.

She didn't know what she'd been expecting to find in there, but it hadn't been a rusty old screwdriver, a completely empty dark leather wallet, and three envelopes. She felt as though she was invading his privacy as she pulled the envelopes out of the bag and slipped their contents free, but he'd wanted her to see.

The first one was a home and contents insurance payout. The second (Rose clenched her eyes shut in empathy upon seeing it) was a life insurance payout. The last was a letter from someone named Alistair telling him, at great length, that he shouldn't blame himself for what had happened just because he hadn't died as well. Rose wondered whether Alistair was still around somewhere, and whether he had any idea what had become of the Doctor. Or rather, of John Smith, she realised, noting how each letter was addressed.

But no, birth name or not, that didn't seem right to her at all. He was still the Doctor. Just the Doctor. Given that he clearly had enough wherewithal to know at least the general nature of what was inside the bag, she wasn't sure just how solid the illusions of his past had remained for him when he'd chosen to give that life up – whether he had some inkling exactly what was hidden beneath the lies he'd told himself – but he obviously still did remember those strange and wonderful things more or less as if he'd lived them. He was still that man just as much as – or perhaps more than – he was the man who'd obviously chosen to remember better things and to go homeless despite having ample funds because he couldn't bare living on money that was saturated in death and destruction.

"Do you think all the insane brushes with death are over now?" the Doctor asked her from where he was now leaning once more in the kitchen doorway. She hadn't even heard him reappear. "Now that I've hung it up and decided to stay here with you, I mean."

Rose snorted. "Seriously? Knowin' you? I just bet you're always gonna be a magnet for excitement and danger. Just look at how you take your life in your hands every time you're in the same room with my Mum."

The Doctor shuddered dramatically.

"It's a wonder you haven't got yourself killed a hundred times over already," Rose noted.

"Well, to be fair, I kind of have," the Doctor corrected. "Regeneration, remember? I haven't done it a hundred times, though, mind. Just nine. I've got two hearts, and a respiratory bypass, so the whole shebang of making myself up a whole new body doesn't become necessary as often as you might think, given some of what I've got myself into over the years. Way more resilient than humans, Time Lords."

Rose smiled and stepped forward into his arms, resting her head on his chest. "Just as well," she said, her voice slightly muffled against his jacket. "I like you too much to lose you to the angry aliens that'll inevitably come after us and start invadin' Earth now that you've gone and settled down here. Thanks for that, by the way."

The Doctor chuckled. "Don't worry, Rose Tyler, I'll save the day when they do. I'm not going anywhere."

She sighed happily and was sent slowly drifting off into daydreams of the future by the soothingly repetitive sounds of his deep breathing and his single heartbeat.

~FIN~