Title: Fear
Rating: K
Notes: Rose POV introspective.
He scares me, sometimes. In different ways, by doing different things.
His enthusiasm scares me. He rushes headlong into life-or-death situations, and doesn't give a toss about his own safety. He's got survivor's guilt, or something. Or maybe he's always been like that. I don't know.
His…I dunno, his presence? I guess that's as good a word as any. His presence scares me sometimes. That first day…or no, it was the second day that I'd known him. Or met him, anyway. Doesn't matter. Anyway, that time with the Nestene Consciousness, or whatever he called it. The way he spoke to it – as if he was used to being listened to and obeyed. And why shouldn't he be used to it? It happens all the time. From the beginning to the end of Earth, humans listen to him, did what he said – usually, anyway. Other people do, too – aliens, or whatever.
I guess he's just that sort of person.
But then there's times when his presence, when this commander bit of him comes out and you just know that he was in a war – without him even saying so, without knowing anything about it. He's used to leading people in to battle, used to giving orders, used to death.
That scares me. How can anyone get used to death? But he is. He doesn't like it, he doesn't accept it – but he's used to it. And yes, that scares me too.
He's a creature of contrasts. He was going to kill the Dalek, because that's what centuries had taught him to do. But then he wouldn't tell me how to stop the Reapers – he wouldn't tell me that my Dad had to die. Death changes importance. One being's life is worth more than another's.
I looked the Daleks up, on the computers on the TARDIS. I understand why he wanted to kill it, I really do. But…but the way he looked when he pointed that gun at me and the Dalek, half-crazed and so empty. It scared me.
He can be so coolly calculating, so logical. I hate that. And then he can be so wonderfully passionate, throwing himself into absolutely everything. He dances.
He scares me.
But I couldn't leave him. Not ever. Because even though he scares me so much that some nights I scream into my pillow, the fear is never as great as the excitement, the wonder, and the love.
I don't know. Maybe I'm an idiot. Maybe I should go back home, get another boring job, go back to being Mickey's girlfriend.
But the thing is…there's no danger there. No adrenaline. No fear.
I think we rather suit each other, the Doctor and me. We're neither of us happy with what we were given. We're making new paths.
But I'm still scared of him sometimes, when he gets that hard glint in his eyes, and he stands up alone to whatever marauding forces are at work this week. I hope he never looks at me like that again.
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