Title: Manipulation of the Mind

Author: Trustno1

Disclaimer: All Doctor Who related things belong to the BBC. I am not the BBC.

AN:Small note to all the lovely people who have reviewed (and anyone else reading): thank you! first. :-D And secondly,I'm appalling at writing romance - I can't doromance in real life and I can't seem to do it with characters, even established ones :-S I'm trying to edit all the chapters I've written so far to include some shippyness, but I apologize if it's shocking, which it probably will be. Hopefully towards the end of the fic (if you stick around that long, lol)I will have gotten the hang of it!

Chapter VII

Before long Rose found herself daydreaming. She felt a little guilty after only having gotten out of bed half an hour ago and not embarking on another adventure yet. 'Then again,' she thought, 'when I first met the Doctor we saved the world from plastic, then saved most of an observation deck, then the world again, only from zombies this time, with only a few chips and a cup of tea since starting out! I think I deserve a break every now and then.'

The primary subject of Rose's daydreaming was the Doctor. Not too unusual since he was the one taking her around the Universe – she frequently wondered where he'd whisk them off to next and what (as she was quickly becoming accustomed to) danger they'd get into in the name of saving someone, some species or some planet (almost always Earth – it also appeared to be rather jeopardy friendly). But now she found her thoughts wandering a little further than the next destination he'd be taking her to. Well, if she was perfectly honest with herself, these particular thoughts had been popping up almost as soon as she had begun travelling with him. It was strange - if someone had told her a few months ago that she would spend almost all of her waking hours with a man who looked old enough to be her dad (but could actually be her great-great-great-great... grandad), including living with him, she would have laughed so hard, then thought they were a little weird. But if they hadthen told her that she would be attracted to more than just his lifestyle, and feeling more than just companionship, or friendship, she would have thought they were very weird.

Except that almost immediately Rosewas wondering if there could be anything other than friendship; found herself looking too deeply into his cool blue eyes that held such an immense range of emotions she felt as though she were drowning in them. Butterflies inside her stomach fluttered more wildly when he grabbed hold of her hand thanmost of the times she was with Mickey, she realised with some regret. And it felt so natural for him to grab her hand and in the way their hands fit together in a way hers and Mickey's never seemed to. It was perfectly natural for her to travel with a man - an alien - she'd metless than a day before, a man she considered hers from the word go. She wondered if it was because he chose her - not once but twice - that she felt as if she belonged to him, and himto her. It certainly felt like that on the Space Station he took her to 5 billion years after the day they met, and he had gone off with the tree-person - Jabe, or something. Rose was shocked to feel jealousy creeping over her as he offered his arm, and a green eyed monster had whispered that was her arm. She wondered, after they left Adam in his mum's sitting room, if the strange side glances and stares the Doctor had given her whilst Adam was on board, was the Doctor's own green eyed monster. Especially after the curious expression appeared to have been left with Adam on Earth.

However now, Rose was wondering how long he could manage to remain on the sofa with her legs draped casually over his and her eyes trained on him. With the Doctor being alien and all - and rather difficult to read sometimes - she still was a little unsure if this would constitute as something acceptably friendly or something more meaningful. The fact that they were so comfortable around each other since they had met confused her even more. He was either a naturally friendly person, or he felt something a little more than friendship, and had since they met. Rose personally hoped it was the latter.

In the instant this thought ran through her mind, a strange feeling coursed through her, something akin to déjà vu. It felt like a guilt she had already experienced; the inexplicable guilt you often feel when you're a young child and a parent shouts at you for something. You don't know why they're shouting; you only know that what you did was wrong, making you feel all the more guilty for not understanding why.

Rose gave a half-hearted attempt to ignore whatever it was, but the sensation, and what felt like the onset of a headache, persisted. If the Doctor had chosen that particular moment to look at Rose he would have seen the same empty darkness descend on her eyes once more. He did not, however. He was gazing into space, willing the TARDIS to do… something… so he could jump up and do something himself. He was beginning to get restless. Comfortably so, what with Rose's legs resting over his, pleasantly warm and heavy, but restless all the same.

With a burst of mental energy, Rose pushed harder at the unknown and decidedly irritating sensation. 'I'll be damned if I'm gonna be made to feel guilty when I don't know what I've done!' she thought angrily. This seemed to work better, and she felt the strange feeling begin to disappear. Only, it wasn't quite disappearing per se. More like, dispersing, as if there were some residual energy of it left inside of her. Rose simply gave herself a mental shake – she was just imagining things for the sake of it – and drew her attention back to the Doctor.

The Doctor, who was tapping a fast, strangely soothing rhythm on the side of Rose's leg where his right hand and arm were resting. She had absolutely no doubts that the Doctor was itching to go fiddle with his beloved TARDIS, and that he had no idea he was currently causing a new, definitely not unwelcome feeling, to flow through Rose.

"When you've finished using my leg as a drum kit…" she said, managing to keep her voice indifferent somehow, despite expecting it to sound a couple of octaves higher. She was rather proud of herself for that. The Doctor looked down in surprise.

"Oh. Right." He folded his hands over Rose's jeans clad legs. "What, then?"

"'Scuse me?"

"Well, you kinda tailed off. I assumed you were going to say what you were going to do after I'd finished tapping," he remarked to a slightly perplexed Rose.

"Um, yeah. Er, d'ya want a cuppa?" He considered this briefly, then grinned. "Great! Me too. Off you trot – it'll keep you busy." He sighed dramatically as he heaved himself off the couch – both slightly regretted the loss of contact, but said and did nothing.

"'Spose you'll be wanting choccie biccies as well?" Rose flashed him a smile that she knew he couldn't resist, and settled back down. So far he had lasted all of twenty minutes. By the time he'd polished off a cup of tea and half a packet of biscuits, his 'special hearing, tuned to the TARDIS's needs' would have picked up on something that needed 'fixing'. She'd bet her half of the biscuits on it.

End Chapter VII