Sleepless nights with sore ribs apparently inspires Doctor Who fanfiction. For everyone’s sanity, let us hope we shall have no more of them.

Title: Perchance to Dream
Pairing: Rose/Ninth
Rating: G
Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: The BBC own them. I just dream about it.
All grammar and tense mistakes are mine.

Rose stumbled into the TARDIS behind the Doctor. The day’s event slamming into her at full force. The Doctor turned around and watched her struggling to stay awake, her body betraying her efforts to appear wide awake.
“Off to bed with you,” he announced.
Rose nodded and made her away towards her bedroom. Halfway across the control room, she stopped and turned to face the Doctor.
“Ain’t you going to sleep?”
“To sleep, perchance to dream; aye, there’s the rub,” he quoted back at her.
Rose rolled her eyes and made her way to her bedroom without further comment. She had learnt long ago to never expect a simple straightforward answer from him.

The Doctor sat next to the control console and waited, just like he did every night. He waited for Rose to get into her pyjamas, crawl into bed and fall asleep. He pretended to fix one of the many broken gadgets that littered the TARDIS, but mostly he concentrated on waiting. When the time felt right, he would make his way to Rose’s room, stand in her doorway and watch her sleep. Her face was so open when she slept. She looked so innocent, so naïve. This was more fulfilling then lying in his own bed alone with his thoughts. As he watched her sleep, he felt at peace – a feeling so rare he savoured every moment of it and let it replenish him.

Every night Rose would climb into bed, close her eyes and wait. Wait for him to come and stand at her doorway. Only then did she feel safe enough to drift off to sleep. She knew that the TARDIS wouldn’t allow any harm to come to her sleeping occupants, but like a child with a night light who knows that monsters exist, Rose couldn’t sleep until she felt him there. It was a mental connection so strong that it was almost physical. Gods, she wished it was physical. She wished that he would take that step over the threshold into her room and sit on her bed. Perhaps he would stroke her hair as she slept or would hold her hand. If she let herself dream a little more, she wished that he would hold her in his arms and let the sound of his beating hearts lull her to sleep. She wished, but she didn’t dare ask.

On another night, on another planet in another time, Rose and the Doctor stumbled into the TARDIS. Another adventure filled with life and death, but this one’s near miss had been too near. Too near to brush off with laughter and silly jokes. It left them raw, shocked and broken.
“Go to bed Rose, you can barely stand.”
Rose looked up at the Doctor, at his face strained with an unreadable emotion. She took his hand and said one word, “Come,” before leading him to her room.
The Doctor was too numb to reply. If this had been any other day, he would have let logic tell him that this was dangerous territory, but his emotions were too raw to hear logic. He followed her into her room and watched her climb into bed.
Rose tugged at his hand. “Stay” she pleaded. She couldn’t bear the thought of him being even a centimetre away from her.
The Doctor nodded and let her pull him into bed. He wrapped his arms around her and held her close. Rose fell asleep to the beating of his hearts, whilst the Doctor held peace safely in his arms.


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