AN: one-shot, set just after the regeneration scene in POTW. Dedicated to faithlessone (T&C), who's habit of "reading too far into things" I love. Also dedicated to goldenblue (T&C).
It was hard to put a finger on it. On what she felt.
Anger?
Grief?
Loneliness?
In the literal sense, she was alone. Alone in the control room. Alone, backed up and sat down against the wall. Black draped over gold draped over red; blonde hair caught between the insides of leather and a red jersey. A frown etched upon her face in what, disbelief? Confusion?
He was somewhere in the TARDIS, that much she knew. Said something about a jumper and needing something "much more stylish". Left the leather jacket discarded. Hanging on a railing by the console. Just simply forgotten - "a bit big for my liking". She had picked it up. Looked at it. Touched it. Felt it. Picked it up, studied it. Cried. He had been going on about Barcelona as if nothing had ever happened. As if nothing had ever fucking happened. Laughing and smiling and joking away.
Black draped over gold draped over red.
Some sort of comfort, she guessed. Wearing his jacket. Huddling herself inside of it, yet not putting her arms through the sleeves. Hanging off of her shoulders. Wearing it because she never saw him without it. Wearing it simply because it was him. A piece of him. A piece of home.
And he had just left it lying there, as if it wasn't important anymore. It was just a jacket. Oversized. Too big. Not wanted any more.
"What do you...Rose? Where'd you go?"
No need to look up. He'll find you eventually.
"There you are! What do you think? I quite like..."
He's noticed what you're wearing.
So? He doesn't care about it anymore.
He cares about you.
He watched as she glanced up suddenly, and looked back down. Brown suit. Some sort of trainers. Long jacket. "Yeah, yeah, it looks nice. Smart."
"I was going for 'geek chic'."
She grinned. Doesn't look up this time, though he can practically hear her smile. "Geek chic?"
"Yeah. Stylish, huh?"
"They'll be putting you on the catwalk soon."
"I'm pretty enough."
Still the same ego then.
Still the same person.
No, he's not.
It's just skin Rose.
"It's just skin Rose."
Voice merging with thought. The Doctor knelt down, taking her hand with his own. He smiled warmly, softly. Ever so softly. Silent for a minute, he paused, tightening his grip. "That's all it is. Just skin. I'm still the same. I need you to understand that, Rose. I'm still the same person who wants to hold your hand and take you dancing; take you dancing like you've never danced before. I can still take you through time and space. I can still show you the stars. I'm just not wearing a jumper and a leather jacket. This time I'm doing it with a bit more style," he grinned. He nudged into her shoulder, sparking a smile across her lips. She shrugged her shoulders, and glanced back down. "I just...I just...it's mental. This whole thing. You just...big ball of light and bam! You're...you. Not him - I know, I know you're the same person, but you're not..."
"Him."
She nodded. "Yeah. It's nuts, I know. But it's like you're two separate people. He's him and you're you. And you're Scottish. I mean, how does that work? Were you born with an accent and it just changes as you do...this thing? Or do you just chop and choose? Before you were Northern."
"Scotland's pretty Northern."
Rose sniffed, and smiled. "You know what I mean. How does the accent thing work? You sounded English before."
The Doctor shook his head. He shifted in his position; how she had managed to sit like that for an hour he didn't know, he was already getting uncomfortable. "Don't know. Never really bothered me, to be honest. Doesn't your bum hurt sitting here? How long have you been sat here for?"
"Don't know. I just wandered around here for a bit and sat down."
"Well, what do you say we shift? Got some visiting Barcelona to do," he grinned, standing up and offering a hand. She reached for it and smiled.
"Yeah, yeah alright."