It always struck him as interesting, the strange things that the Doctor would notice when he first woke up in a new body. In 900 years and 10 different forms, it still usually managed to surprise him.

His previous body, for example, had been all about the hands - even long before he had first grabbed Rose's and told her to run. He had liked working with them and using them to build new things. He had enjoyed poking and prodding at things and he had had the burn scars on the backs of his knuckles to prove it. It was only natural that he had turned that tactile nature on Rose, as well - always grabbing for her and keeping her as close as possible, even when he knew that he shouldn't.

This new body, however, seemed to be all about the mouth. The first thing that he noticed was the teeth, and he had only just barely set their destination for Barcelona before he was off running about the TARDIS console and chattering away like a madman. He savored the way that each new word felt on his tongue, rolling them around and tasting them like a fine wine.

He didn't even give Rose a chance to get a word in edgewise, though he watched her out of the corner of his eye all the same as he slowly checked over his new appearance - cataloging each new change, for better or for worse. She was watching him with an expression of shocked disbelief that he couldn't really begrudge her, but he had no idea how to address it, so the Doctor was content to keep going on as he was for the time being.

"Go on then, tell me," he finally said eagerly, turning to flash her a wide, excited smile. "What do you think?"

It took Rose a minute to reply, but when she finally did, the Doctor immediately knew that this wasn't going to go over as easily as he had hoped. "Who are you?" she asked timidly.

"I'm the Doctor," he answered slowly, his expression instantly sobering.

But his brilliant, beautiful Rose was nothing if not clever, and he patiently waited as she burned through all of her options and explanations in an attempt to piece together the strange scene that she had just witnessed happen right before her eyes.

"Send him back," she threatened, her voice hard in a way that she had never used with him before. "I'm warning you, send the Doctor back right now!"

"Rose, it's me!" the Doctor protested desperately. "Honestly, it's me. I was dying. To save my own life I changed my body - every single cell - but ... it's still me."

"You can't be," Rose insisted, her tone still breathless and disbelieving as she scanned his face for something - anything - that was even the slightest bit familiar to her.

And suddenly the Doctor knew just what to do to make her believe him. He just needed to give her something familiar to grab on to - a glimpse of his past self to convince her that it was still him, standing there in front of her.

He took three steps forward to close the distance between them and be as close to her as he dared. He felt a rush of pride swell in his chest as his brave human girl simply stared him down and didn't so much as flinch away from the new man standing before her.

He quietly reminded her of the first time that they had met in that dark basement in the middle of London. The Doctor only hesitated for the briefest of seconds before acting out the story of his words and taking her hand in his.

His mental shields were completely nonexistent - still rebooting from after the regeneration - but Rose was so guarded and unsure of him in that moment that the Doctor was only able to catch the brief outline of her emotions as she shifted uncomfortably from his touch (but still didn't pull completely away, he was happy to say).

She was afraid - absolutely terrified - and she wanted him back desperately. The Doctor wracked his brain as he fought to find another way to prove to her that he was right here in front of her.

Finally, her gaze seemed to catch on something in his expression and she whispered his name in the form of a question - seeking validation.

"Hello!" the Doctor responded cheerily, giving her another wide smile that he wished very much that she would replicate.

But Rose pulled away from him yet again and, even though he didn't really want to, the Doctor let go of her hand and began bouncing about the console again, his mouth chattering away the whole time.

Rose, however, refused to be so easily distracted, and she asked quietly, "Can you change back?"

And that was a stab in the hearts if there ever was one - the Doctor felt the shock and pain of her rejection all the way down to his toes. But how was she supposed to know that such a seemingly insignificant request held such importance? She had only just learned what regeneration was nine-and-a-half minutes ago. He couldn't exactly expect her to understand how painful it was for him to have the love of his lives so blatantly reject his new face.

"Do you want to leave?" he asked after a moment's hesitation.

A look of sheer terror crossed her face then as she asked, "Do you want me to leave?"

"No!" the Doctor answered without a second's pause. The absolute last thing he wanted to do was say goodbye to Rose Tyler - not when he had just been so very close to finally admitting his ridiculous, undying feelings to her. Besides, hadn't they been over all of this before? Did she not remember just a few weeks ago when she told him that she was never going to leave and he had told her that he wanted her to stay, or did she simply not trust the words, now that they belonged to a new face?

With a small sigh the Doctor did what he always did when he wasn't sure how to comfort Rose - he changed their destination to the 21st century Powell Estates and promised her a trip to see her mother. But the Doctor's mind was still attempting to settle into this new body and his old habits of seeking and offering comfort were beginning to claw their way to the surface. He had to pin his hands tightly between his arms and his rib cage in order to fight off the sudden, desperate urge to reach out and take Rose's hand again.

He filled the awkward silence with more mindless chatter and suddenly, without him even having to try, Rose was smiling again. It was a small, bemused expression that wasn't even pointed in his direction as she stared glumly down at the TARDIS controls, but it gave him a ridiculous boost of hope nonetheless.

For a moment the Doctor let himself think that maybe - just maybe - things would turn out alright and Rose might come to accept (and ... dare he hope love?) him once more. But those hopes were instantly dashed a few seconds later as a jolt of energy shot through him and cut off his seemingly endless flow of words.

Wrong, wrong, something is wrong, his mind screamed as a shot of adrenaline coursed through his veins. Gotta get Rose home, gotta make sure she's safe, gotta hurry, gotta run, gotta fly ...

The Doctor was only distantly aware of their crash landing back on Earth, because everything in his head was already crashing and burning and it was becoming difficult to separate his racing thoughts from reality.

All he could remember clearly was that Rose needed to go home - needed to be safe and wrapped up in something warm and familiar.

"Oh! I know!" he exclaimed distractedly to whoever it was that he had grabbed in an attempt to remain upright (where had he landed, again?). "Merry Christmas!"

And then the oxygen flow to his brain thinned and the Doctor took a nosedive into the asphalt, passing out in an uncoordinated heap on the ground.