Changes
It's strange sometimes, getting used to traveling with her father.
For starters, she doesn't need any identification when she's with him. No worries about docking license or customs. They just show up wherever they want, and there isn't a problem.
Well, mostly there isn't a problem. Sometimes there were problems. Then they fixed them. Or they ran. Or both.
Jenny had to get used to his leadership. She'd followed her own instincts and the Words for the last few years, signed up only under commands she'd chosen, and she'd done all right. Now half the time her father is warning her, calling her. Watch out. Don't touch that. Don't do that. Clean that up, will you? Be careful. Don't wander off. It gets annoying sometimes.
And he doesn't give orders. Well, aside from 'run!' and the quick commands he gives when they're under fire. Those are easy. She knows how to follow orders. It's harder when they're safe. Jenny is used to being told what to do and doing it. The Doctor doesn't order. He suggests things. He says 'if you'd do that, it'd be nice.' Or 'can you grab that for me? Ta.' And he asks things. He's always asking 'why're you doing that, then?' or 'what happens if you do that?' He makes her think. It takes getting used to.
She had to get used to her father in general. It was weird having the 'natural psychokinetic field overlap', the link they had in their heads, at first. She can always feel him around the edge of her mind. Sometimes he talks straight into her head. Other times it's just a feeling. It's nice, to have some sort of a response when she reaches out. It feels right, like she was missing something without knowing what it was, and now she has it. But she can't really lie to him. He always knows what she's feeling. Sometimes it drives her crazy. She has to work on those mental shields. And he himself took some getting used to; sometimes he's as enthusiastic as she is, even more. He loves everything, and it seems like he knows about everything. He'll give her a wild-possibilities grin sometimes, and it makes her feel like running. It's kind of hypocritical of him to warn her not to touch things, because he's always curious, always poking into something. But he can change so fast, go still inside, get serious.
She had to get used to his talk. In a good mood he's always talking, talking, talking. Places he's been. People he's met. Places they're going or going to go or not going to go, and why. Science and ideas and opinions and jokes all jumbled together. At first it had thrown her. She learned to keep up with the conversation and join in. Now she thinks it's pretty funny to watch the eyes of people they meet go huge when he starts getting enthusiastic. Sometimes she reminds him that he's not making a lot of sense to new friends or enemies.
She got used to the amenities pretty fast. She loves having her own room, and different clothes for different days. She found garments her father calls 'jeans' in the Wardrobe, blue ones and black ones, and now there are always a few pair in the dresser in her room, along with lots of shirts. Some of them have pictures on them, which is really fun. And there are jackets. And vests. Jenny found out that she looks good in a vest and t-shirt. She found out she likes varied clothing.
Being able to eat whenever she feels like it, shower individually, decide when to wake up and when to sleep took getting used to as well. At first she'd felt out of sorts without any regimen. But she really loves being able to decide how she feels for herself.
She's learned most of her father's signs. When he runs both his hands through his hair something really isn't making sense. When he puts on his glasses, something is interesting. When he stands very still, something is wrong. When his voice is low and quiet, he's thinking. When he stands looking relaxed, hands in his pockets, voice light and reasonable, he is usually getting ready to do something. When his voice rings in the air and she can feel the punch of his emotions behind it, she gets ready to act. If he stares at someone hard, it means something bad is likely to happen to the person pretty soon.
Jenny is getting used to having a species. Most people who did catch that she was different thought she was some kind of mutant human. She'd started to think of herself like that. Different. Weird. Now she's pleasantly surprised to find she's supposed to be the way she is, do the things she does. She's Gallifreyan. But sometimes it's a let down; she always had an edge around humans. She could learn a lot faster, move faster, survive better. Now she finds out she's pretty average; sometimes her father even seems exasperated that she doesn't understand more. There are things that Time Lords did in their minds, stuff she hasn't even started to learn yet. She hopes she'll be able to get it soon.
And she gets used to his history. On the surface he's the Doctor. He's her father. But he's been a lot of things. He said once that he's nine-hundred and some years old, and she can see it once in a while. Sometimes a faraway look comes into his eyes, and he holds himself as if he's trying to stop something from crumbling inside. That's when he's remembering. She never knows what will bring that look. Once she'd said 'I bet the neutron flow can be rerouted. You agree, Father?" She'd turned, and he'd had that look on his face. Once she'd found a pretty song to sing from a holotape. She'd been working, humming away.
"My love is like a red, red rose, dum-da-dum dum dum. My love is like a melody, dum-da-dum dum dum."
She'd felt his pain, and glanced into eyes that were suddenly deep and old and aching.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing. Sing something else, alright?"
Some questions bring that look out. She gets used to avoiding those, though she'd love to know the answers. She gets used to quick looks and half-answered questions and subject changes. She gets used to leaving some things alone.
She's got so much to learn. There's so much that's different. But she's getting used to it.