He couldn't sleep, of course. It wasn't as if he'd truly tried. He'd stripped off his clothes, showered, shaved, puttered about in his jim-jams, but never really found his way to his own bed. His arm didn't hurt nearly so bad anymore, but he couldn't seem to stop his stomach from aching. Too much had gone on. His room felt far too empty.
As with most nights, he wandered the TARDIS alone. Rose slept a ridiculous amount of time and there was always so much to do. Still, tonight he just put the kettle on and made some tea and watched it get cold without drinking any. He wished that he could've saved Rose's friend. His friend, in some ways. He felt as if he'd failed. And he worried about Rose. She looked heartbroken and that made failure worse. His failure hurt her. He should've just focused on the fact that he FAILED and that should've been enough, but it made it that much worse. Just a little bit more to push it over the edge into unbearable.
He left the mug of tea on the table and walked around a little more, felt the TARDIS vibrate beneath his feet. He wandered a few more corridors, eventually finding himself at Rose's door. The TARDIS must've been worried about her, he most certainly wasn't walking in the direction of the bedrooms. Was he? No, no, he wasn't.
She was probably sleeping. It wouldn't hurt to check on her, would it? He gently turned the knob on her door and pressed it open, just a little.