Drabble number two. Rose muses about just how weird this whole Doctor thing is. See last chapter for disclaimer.


Did she love him? She thought so. Was she supposed to? She didn't know. Maybe not: he wasn't human, but that was hard to remember sometimes. But other times he'd change so fast, quiet and nostalgic to happy and bouncy again just as quick and easy as if he'd flicked a switch somewhere. And she'd know then just how un-human he was. But there she'd be, walking along happily chatting to an alien like it was the most natural thing in the world. It was weird.
Actually she'd never thought about how weird it was before. It was just what happened. He'd give her that enthusiastic, boyish grin and she'd feel shaky inside, sometimes; she'd hug him after a particularly heart-in-mouth adventure and the world would all just fall into place, and she'd never given it a second thought. She did now.

He was an alien. An actual alien, a different species even, not to mention the fact he was 900 Earth years old to her nineteen, and they laughed and talked and teased and shared chips and held hands and fell on top of each other when the TARDIS landed and had moments sometimes when their eyes locked together and they felt a mutual spark of something deeper and half-frightening—and hardly thought about it. As if it didn't matter how different they were. Of course it mattered. Didn't it? She could, and did, forget, but could he? Maybe every time he held her hand, he remembered who he was, and who she wasn't. Stop it, shut up, brain. He doesn't; he wouldn't…

But there it was, really. He was an alien, he was old by her standards, he'd been through more than she'd ever know about. And she loved him. It was probably the weirdest crush anyone's ever had, but Rose Tyler loved him.

Review, please.