Chapter 3

Rose stirred languidly from slumber the next morning, stretching like a tabby cat basking in the sun on a comfy, conservatory armchair.  She purred in pleasure shimmying her hips against the luscious, royal blue, satin sheets that delicately encased her wriggling form. 

She lay sprawled out in the middle of a sumptuous, king size bed; the mattress as deliciously soft as a mountain of feathers yet supporting like those memory foam things her mother kept eying on Q.V.C.  ‘Bloody bastard of a Time Lord having such a gorgeous bed when he hardly ever sleeps.’ 

The source of her ire really was a piece of art, large and sturdy with varnished ebony, bog oak twisting and climbing like natural vines from the four corners of the bed and joining one another near the ceiling in a beautiful rectangular frame from which soft, midnight blue and silver laced, voile drapes, cascaded to the floor. 

There wasn’t much else in the room that could have imploded dangerously on impact of the crashing T.A.R.D.I.S. and the Rose couldn’t discern whether the items that did litter the floor were broken victims of the ground force attack or of one sonic plus Doctor.

Warm, amber hues of the T.A.R.D.I.S.-style, synthesised dawn informed her that she’d slept through her normal circadian rhythm but, contrary as ever, Rose sank deeper beneath the mattress with the logic that a.) The Doctor hadn’t been to bed yet, b.) This meant he’d lost track of time, incongruously enough, lavishing attention on the T.A.R.D.I.S. which meant that, c.) He’d either be at it all day again so there was no hurry to get up or d.) He’d finally come to bed in which case Rose had no intention of getting up.

Many hours later, when hunger had finally won out. Rose shuffled into the dilapidated, console room.  The Doctor was unconscious on top of the pile of pillows that Rose had left yesterday, glasses still in place if a little crooked.  Rose allowed herself a few moments to absorb the picture of the sleeping Time Lord into her memory bank as she rarely had the occasion to catch him so defenceless and still, not to mention quiet.