Contrasting Tranquility |COMPLETE|

Chapter Twenty-One

"If you would be a real seeker after truth, it is necessary that at least once in your life you doubt, as far as possible, all things."

-Descartes

They intended on returning back to the Hub in a couple of hours; or at least after Rose felt better with the situation that had enslaved her, which was a sinister one at that. It felt like phantoms reached out to her to disassemble whatever she'd managed to build; yank her towards the darkness once more and leave her empty.

She leaned back in her chair and nursed a cup of tea; had yet to touch her chips. After leaving the Hub, they'd noticed a small café down the road; so without hesitation, they entered. Rose stared at a wall, contemplating, and took a sip from her drink. The sweet smell hit her nose so she inhaled deeply and sighed.

There wasn't much to think about, not really. Anthony was here, only it wasn't the Anthony that she knew; not the one that inflicted pain, probed and poked and cut. Plain and simple. Yet the disgust she felt whenever her eyes laid upon him, wouldn't subdue. Same as the distress that shot through her body. It was a subconscious thing, and could you blame her?

He was the man that took every ounce of self-respect from her; something she found hard to recover.

The Doctor felt her anxiety rise, so he sent her a wave of warmth, caressing her mind.

"You don't have to do that, you know?" Rose placed her cup down. "I'll be fine."

"I just want you to feel okay." he reached for her hand over the table and squeezed it.

"It's not fair to you. The fact that you can feel all of this."

"I've been through worse, Rose. Don't worry about me." he smiled gently.

"How come I never feel anything from your side?"

"Nine hundred years of practice." he shrugged. "I have great mental barriers. Nothing can get in here." he tapped a finger to his head.

"Unless you're a woman called Cassandra." she chuckled. "How'd it feel? We never really talked about that day."

"And there was a reason for that, remember?"

"How could I forget?" she munched on a chip. "She kissed you."

"No, we kissed. It was still you, just.." he shook his head. "You know. Not completely there."

"Felt like a dream. Like watching myself through television."

"The brain is a very delicate thing. She compressed you too much."

Silence settled once again. He was unsure of what to say, scared he might bring up something she'd feel uncomfortable with; so he drank from his coffee and paid attention to a lovely couple a few tables away.

"What year is it anyway?" Rose changed the subject.

"You tell me." he crossed his arms. "You have new abilities. But we never really trained them, have we?"

"What?" she cocked a brow. "Just 'cause I can fly the TARDIS, I can magically tell the year?"

"Why don't you try out?" he waved around. "Close your eyes and concentrate. Imagine you can taste the answer."

Rose peeked shortly at him. "Taste?"

"Trust me." he grinned. "It should come to you."

She did as he asked and centralised the surroundings. She imagined herself wrapped in a cocoon, and the cocoon was the world; an oyster of questions and thrill. Rose searched through her mind for the answer, drawing in the smell. There was a tinge of something on her tongue, something metallic. So she reached for it further, grasping it with force. Her brows furrowed as the taste slipped away.