If You Want

3~ The Week That Came From Hell

One word: DOMESTICS. But not the fighting kind. No angsty TenRose in this chapter, just angsty Ten.

~ ~ ~

A month or so later, the Doctor had started a job at Torchwood.

Yes, you read right: Torchwood.

He wasn't happy with it at first, given his past experiences with Torchwood. Always seeing them as the more nosy and know-it-all members of the human race, he didn't have much respect for them. But Rose told him that-- for now-- it was his best bet, as he wasn't used to Pete's World enough yet. He wouldn't have to hide his identity at Torchwood, and he could use his knowledge of the universe to help them as his job.

So, as always, he listened to Rose.

The job was slightly annoying but surprisingly pleasant in the beginning. Obviously, he didn't really want to be around the Torchwood team, because they were, well, Torchwood. They didn't always get along well. But he was almost shocked at the respect he got from them, constantly asking smart questions about the other universe, about alien life, and about certain time-and-space travel aspects. The Doctor quite enjoyed answering the inquiries. It not only refreshed his old memory, but it have him a new sense of (even higher) confidence. He felt superior to the Torchwood members, with his previously-alien intelligence, but he also felt like he belonged, as a human.

Finally, the Doctor felt that he was figuring out his new human body very efficiently, even if it was mainly just a change of heart count and different health habits. With Rose's help, he was sleeping almost regularly, and he hadn't become sick once, despite his much weaker immune system. Along with all the other new experiences, his health was in tip-top shape.

The Doctor was also quite enjoying his new human life, socially. He missed the old one a little, of course, but he had so much to discover: so many little things he hadn't noticed as a world-saving Time Lord. It helped that he had Rose to point out these things and share in them with him.

All of this satisfaction lasted until "the week from hell."

It was the busiest week he'd had as a human so far. The busiest, the most hectic, the most lacking of certain things he was suddenly realizing he need so much of.

It was late one night, or very early in the morning, and the Doctor slammed the door of Rose's room behind him, not caring about the rest of the sleeping Tylers. Rose, it seemed, had fallen asleep waiting for him, as she was spread on top of the covers of her bed, her cell phone next to her and her laptop still aglow in front of her resting face.

He sighed, grateful for Rose's obvious extreme kindness for himself, and for all people of that matter. It always cheered him up to remind himself that he lived with her in the same universe, in the same star system, on the same planet, same country, same house, same room! He had no idea what would happen to him if he didn't have her, and thankfully, he didn't have to think about that.

The Doctor obviously had been a bit too loud when he entered the room, because now Rose was awakening.

"Go back to sleep, love," he told her softly as he walked toward an old dresser they had moved from his old room into Rose's. He undid his tie and folded it neatly into one of the top drawers.

Rose propped herself up on her arms, squinting at her surroundings confused. "What time is it?"

"A little past three. Now get back to sleep!" The Doctor whispered while he took off his jacket and hung it over a chair.

"No, I'm fine—" Rose yawned and rubbed her eyes as she sat up, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. "I was waiting for you. I've hardly seen you all week."