There's a humming under her skin that never fully goes away. She might forget, sometimes for days at the time, sometimes for weeks if she's lucky, but it's always there in some way. It fluctuates. There are times when she can ignore it and other when she can feel her cells vibrating to the point of bursting.

Her head still hurts. She can't sleep, her thoughts racing with flashing images of planets, times and people she had never and will never meet, yet she somehow knows them all like a back of her own hand. Just for that moment, they are her and she is them.

She doesn't tell the Doctor. He will worry, and he already looks at her weirdly when he thinks she can't see. His new face, the one she's still getting to know but loves all the same, frowns, lips thin and white, a glint of gold in the eyes that no human could have and shouldn't be able to see, but Rose's different.

She cannot deny, even though she craves to pretend longer, that looking into the heart of TARDIS changed her on some fundamental, incomprehensible level. It took a while to notice, but since briefly becoming a cosmic deity she sees more than before. It's not just more colors or details from afar. She used to nod along when the Doctor rambled about some wonders of the worlds they landed on, how their atmospheres were so stunning, how the energy flowed around in a beautiful way, all the things that her human brain cannot notice but his somehow can. Now she's no longer just polite, not wanting to spoil his excitement about their travel destination, even though for her it's just a pile of gray rocks in the middle of nowhere. She sees and feels what he's talking about and, oh, how beautiful is the dance of nitrogen and oxygen above 15th century France, how the hydrogen shines like gold and diamond in the vast nothingness of outer space. It's like she achieved a whole new level of amazement.

It took getting used to, but she managed and when they landed in Powell Estate near an old playground she hanged out on half her childhood, Rose was sure nothing will surprise her. She got proven wrong as soon as she stepped through the doorstep of Jackie's flat and a swirl of warm energy blew in her face as if from a heated oven.

"Mum, it's us!" she yelled.

"In the kitchen! Just a moment," answered Jackie. "I'm making tea."

Rose put down a backpack full of laundry. She had never finished high school, but sometimes she wondered if that's what coming home from university feels like. Coming home with a pile of dirty clothes you could just as well clean in a wash house down a street, but you want an excuse to visit, to feel cared for and domestic, drinking tea and talking about what you learned and saw and experienced, and maybe dragging along your reluctant friend who might be a little more someday, but right now he's just your lonely friend who would never admit it but loves how your mother dotes on him as if he's her own.

"Anything interesting?" she asked, leaning on the door frame.

"Hmm? Ah, no." The Doctor put down one of the colorful magazines that Jackie was so fond of. "Nothing eye-catching."

"That's good. We might actually manage to finish our tea this time," she joked and he laughed.

They managed to finish their first, second and third cups and then supper without interruptions, chatting mostly about the few weeks they spent apart, some about Jackie's job, neighborhood gossip and some about the thrilling adventures on the other side of the universe. At the end, Rose felt warmer than ever. It was like a pure essence of home was being slowly poured into her through the whole afternoon and evening. Is that how it felt for the Doctor every time? How could he ever want to go out?

"Mum, can we sleep here tonight?" she asked. It was already dark and slightly raining. TARDIS parked near but not that near that a walk to her sounded better than sleeping in her small, teenage bedroom.

"Of course, sweetheart. If the Doctor doesn't mind the couch, that is."

Rose glanced at the Doctor. Surprisingly, he didn't protest the prospect of sleeping on the old, small, and not really comfortable, couch. She kind of wished they would share her old room. Having an excuse to talk till they pass out, maybe to wake up cuddled together and finally talk about the energy pulsing between them in the way she wanted, but something always interrupted, be it a TARDIS malfunction, a volcano eruption or just a thought of what if it isn't what she thinks it is... There will be another time.

The Doctor sat slouched, practically draped over the armrest, with his long limbs somehow contained to a few cushions. At the angle Rose was staring at him, the ridiculously long limbs looked even longer than usual. He was holding a half-full mug of hot chocolate and blinking slowly. Like a content cat, she thought with amusement.

They went to sleep not long after.

The moment Rose laid down, she knew she wouldn't be able to rest that night. The humming, almost nonexistent earlier, was getting louder by the minute. It was hardly the first time her skin began boiling from inside, yet in the quiet of her childhood bedroom she wished for the gentle hum and swaying of TARDIS. If they didn't manage to calm down and anchor her in reality, at least they muffled the whimpers she couldn't keep in.

She grabbed a pillow and bit it with all her strength. It was a bad idea to stay home. Rose didn't want to worry her mum. Jackie worried enough for her reckless daughter, who preferred to backpack through time and space to settling down and building a life. But would you be happy?, asked a quiet voice at the back of her mind. And she knew she wouldn't be, she never really was before meeting the Doctor. She wasn't living then, merely existing, and what a sorry way of existence that had been. A school dropout, barely earning a living wage, eating and working and sleeping and repeating it every single day as real life flew over her head, being lived by others but never her, because she had had no dreams then, nothing that would drive her to grow and mature, to become better. Maybe not useless but directionless, drifting with the current and the Doctor changed it, ruined her old routine like a hurricane of wonders and adventure, and new possibilities to experience just because she wanted to, not because she needed to earn more or look better or achieve some mythical state of perfection. The Council always wanted perfection and only that. They didn't understand exploring for the sake of that. It always needed to be for the better of the universe or for the glory of Gallifrey or for a thousand other reasons that could be neatly written on reports, and for so many years not a thought of real doubt made it through. Maybe if something had been said then, when there was still a chance to change their ways, to put into question their role in the universe, if only someone stood up and said something before their pride consumed their conscience...

Rose jerked away as not-her-thought swarmed her mind. The Doctor quickly gave her space, nearly jumping back. She noticed how he made sure not to touch her in any way, but still stayed so close she could grab him if she wanted. His eyes were dimly glowing gold. How had she never noticed it before?

"You alright?" she asked, her voice raspy.

"Fine." Normally he wasn't such a bad liar, although normally he also wasn't in her bedroom, cradling his hands like they were burned. "Are you?"

"I'm good. Was I... Um, did I wake you?"

The Doctor slowly shook his head. "You weren't loud. Jackie's still asleep. I just... heard." His hair was ruffled, sticking awkwardly in every direction.

"Time Lord's superior hearing?" she tried to joke and cringed. It fell flat. Not the right intonation, her voice still rough.

"Something like that." And now she wondered if touch-telepathy wasn't the only telepathy he could do. Maybe him being connected to TARDIS while she was connected to Rose at all time made him connected to her as well? "It's not all the time and not usually to that extent. Something... You're keeping the link active now." said the Doctor, bemused. "Rose, how do you...? With the direct link, I understand. It's a two-way road, but... How?"

"I don't know," she lied, and the energy under her skin flared up.

The Doctor hissed, cradling his hand tighter to his chest. "Stop it. Rose, please, stop it."

His eyes glowed up with an impossible to overlook intensity. A soft, gold light illuminated the pink walls, old band posters, the mess of a desk. Rose could see well how the Doctor's face scrunched in pain. It looked a lot like the regeneration had looked back in the TARDIS when he just saved her life for a hundredth time like always forgetting about his own safety, and cold dread swamped Rose. Her growing panic only seemed to worsen the situation.

"I don't know how," she admitted. The energy hummed stronger, but somehow it wasn't hurting her. It was hurting him.

Rose tried to grab the Doctor's arm. To offer comfort, wishing she could transfer the pain back into herself, she didn't really know, she just needed to do something. The Doctor recoiled. "Let me help," begged Rose, and when she put her arms around him, he allowed her touch that time.

His skin was cold even through the layers. He was always colder than expected, colder than a healthy human should be, but he wasn't human, and it would do her good to remember that more often.

They just sat and breathed, minutes ticking by, her old alarm clock loudly announcing every single one. The golden glow slowly receded to the lightest shine. Their three hearts beating one rhythm, inhales in tandem. At some point, they both stopped shivering, the hum truly silent for once. Rose didn't let herself hope that it disappeared completely, but was glad for a moment of peace.

I treated the timeline very loosely, so it's happening somewhere during the second season of nuwho. Not just after the regeneration, but closer to the beginning of the season than the end.

I really wanted to write some tenrose hurt/comfort dealing with the aftermath of well... Rose becoming a cosmic deity for a moment. Also, there's not enough portraits of the Doctor as an alien he is. I hc him as a creature existing beyond three dimensions so he looks human, but trurly isn't, so his "true form" literally shines through when in distress or other strong emotions. It's normally not in a visible spectrum for humans, but Rose isn't just human anymore after looking into the heart of the TARDIS, so...