In want of a wife (A Dr. Who fanfiction)

Chapter 7

Her hands found their own way up and came to rest on top of the Doctor's, still holding her waist.

"She is beautiful. What is she?"

Rose looked over her shoulder at the silence that followed her softly spoken words and she was surprised to see a look of pure wonder on the Doctor's face.

"She-"

He swallowed, then suddenly remembering where his hands were, he quickly dropped them and took a step back. On the slight look of disappointment he then perceived in her countenance, he smiled warmly. Quickly he picked up her hand, that had fallen by her side, bereft of its cherished location.

"She is a TARDIS. The last of her kind."

"Tardis, what a peculiar name, does it mean anything?"

"It is an acronym, which stands for Time And Relative Dimension In Space."

"Space, you mean as in-"

"Yes."

"Space." Turning once again, not releasing the Doctor's hand, Rose looked around as in a dream.

Realization dawning on her, she took a step forward and touched a beam. "She is not from here, is she?"

"No."

Rose took a deep breath, looked straight in the Doctor's eyes and demanded: "Tell me everything."

"I will, to be sure. However there is one thing we have to attend to first. Your attire. It will not do for you to walk around in these wet clothes. If you will permit me, I will show you a place where you can change."

"Do you have an outfit suitable for me, here?" Rose was very much surprised and followed the Doctor eagerly when he escorted her through the large room, towards a corridor.

"I have travelled a great deal if you remember, fairly enough to form quite the collection of outfits for you to chose from."

"You have collected clothing for women as well?" There came a smile on Rose's face, when the Doctor was momentarily at a loss for words.

They moved through the TARDIS. First to the left, past a corridor on the right, next turning right. They moved under stairs, past some bins and then took a left again. Finally they stood before a bone structured, winding staircase and Rose became silent. The view upwards was even more astounding than in the first room. The bowels of the ship where of an organic design. Beautiful ancient coral coloured roundings and everywhere the walls were covered with little hexagonal lights.

She dared not speak aloud and therefore whispered: "How big is she?"

The Doctor, standing close behind, replied to her awe: "I do not know exactly. The exterior, as you might have guessed is bigger on the inside."

Rose could not help but glare at that.

"Forgive me for stating the obvious," the Doctor responded to that with a laugh. "I do not exactly know how big she is on the inside. She is dimensionally transcendental. Meaning: the outside is in a different dimension in respect to the inside."

"Dimension?"

"Too difficult to elaborate at the moment. If you are interested, I will one day explain it to you. Here we are."

Rose turned about and found herself gazing upon the most awkward wardrobe she had ever laid eyes on. A circular staircase wound its way up to where ever the ceiling might be. There where a railing was supposed to be, hung the most awkward collection of clothes she ever beheld.