A/N: Written for the prompt 'leathery' on Taming the Muse. Beta'd by the lovely raynedanser.
Rose leant against the back of her bedroom door and closed her eyes. Lovely though this new Doctor was, he was without a doubt exhausting. Never before had she been so relieved to be away from him - not because she didn't like him, but just because, well, there was only so much she could take.
Three weeks. Three weeks since the Doctor changed his face. Three weeks since she'd lost two men she loved and found a new one.
No. She hadn't lost the Doctor. He was just... different.
Jack though... Jack, she'd lost. Busy rebuilding the earth, apparently, but what did it matter? He was still gone. Not here anymore. Not flirting outrageously with her anymore. And it just wasn't the same.
With a sigh, Rose opened her eyes and moved towards her wardrobe. She lifted a box down from the top and carried it to the bed, then took off the lid.
She inhaled the scents that still lingered, and felt a tear trickle down her face. The spicy tang of Jack's aftershave, still clinging to his blue t-shirt. The distinctive but indescribable smell that could not belong to anyone but the Doctor, her first Doctor, laced through every stitch of his jacket.
Holding both t-shirt and jacket close, Rose lay back on the bed and stared blankly at the arched ceiling. She might be enjoying herself, getting to know this cheeky, energetic, rather handsome new Doctor, but she still missed the old one. And in some ways, she missed Jack even more; because different though he was, the look in the Doctor's eyes when he looked at her was still the same, and that somehow made up for quite a lot.
She knew that bringing out the box didn't help. It just made her miss them more. Remembering Jack in the t-shirt, the day Mickey met them in Cardiff. Remembering the way he held her after Mickey left. Remembering the first time she'd hugged the Doctor close, how she'd remarked on his choice of jacket. Remembering how he'd explained to her, offended, that it wasn't leather at all, but actually made from some expensive material you could only get on the other side of the universe; it just happened to look leathery.
It might be okay if she had pictures. Even just one. But she didn't, and she already felt as if she were beginning to forget the lines and curves of their faces.
There was a knock at the door. She thought vaguely about trying to hide the clothes, but it didn't seem worth the effort.
"Come in." She tried to make her voice sound normal, pushed herself into a sitting position and tried to smile, but as soon as the Doctor entered she knew he'd seen through it. The concerned frown said it all, and he came over to sit on the bed. He ran his fingers over the jacket, then picked up the t-shirt.
"Jack's," he said, and the tone he used was sadder than any she'd yet heard from this new Doctor. "I miss him."
"Me too," Rose whispered, and he put his arms around her, and she hugged him back tightly.
It wasn't the same. But maybe it wouldn't all be bad.