oooOooo
"They say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery."
"They do, do they?" Romana wasn't looking at him. Nothing unusual there, but the Doctor wanted her full attention. Between searching out the various sections of the Key to Time and ridding the universe of the Dalek menace once-and-for-all for the millionth time, neither had been very attentive to the other. But things had gone unsaid between them for too long, bubbling away beneath the surface, unacknowledged, and it was time to deal with it. Once and for all.
"Is that why you chose that particular body?"
Romana looked down at herself. "What's wrong with this body? I thought you liked it." She sucked in her breath, quickly, almost unnoticeably. Almost. Her next words were hurried. "Anyway, it's me now, so why the sudden interest in motive?"
"It's not a sudden interest, Romana," he corrected her with a frown. "It's a renewed interest, now that things have settled down a bit."
"You mean now that the Daleks aren't trying to exterminate us," Romana murmured, her attention apparently returning to the text she'd been reading. Apparently was the key word; the Doctor had learned enough of her body language to know appearances, in this case, were deceiving.
"Ye-es, now that's over with," the Doctor agreed. They were sitting on opposite sofas in the largest TARDIS library, the one with books mingled with scrolls and data strips in a haphazard manner on most of the shelves. Except, of course, for the ones Romana had organized. Her first self. "Look, Romana, we need to talk about this."
"Talk about what?" She'd returned her attention to him, but held his gaze for only a moment before shifting it back to the book in her hands. A first edition Twain, the Doctor realized. One of the many Earth books in his collection.
"About the guilt you feel for allowing Princess Astra to be turned into a component for the Key."
"You mean for allowing Princess Astra to die," Romana corrected him, her voice and eyes fierce.
"Yes, that is exactly what I mean." The Doctor was the first to look away this time. "We both bear the guilt for that, Romana, but you know we had to let it happen. The consequences--"
Romana nearly threw the book onto the table next to her; at the last possible second, she set it gently on the glass surface. "It still doesn't feel right."
"It feels so not-right that you need to wear her form in penance?"
There, he'd said it. Out loud. To Romana. It would be interesting to hear what she had to say about it...