Short, I know. Sorry Mel! I'm working on it still, I promise!

No, I don't own Doctor Who.

They held hands all the way home, and up into the living room where they sat on the couch. "Want a blanket?" the Doctor asked. Mel nodded and he stood to grab it from the far end of the couch. They wrapped up in it and sat happily together, talking about nothing and everything at the same time, for hours. When at last they parted for bed, Mel smiled to the Doctor.

"Goodnight," she smiled.

"Goodnight," he returned, before skidding down the staircase and into his borrowed room.

The next morning the Doctor sat at the breakfast table looking very concerned and confused. "What's wrong?" Mel asked, setting his toast down in front of him with the jelly between them. She munched on her own slice as he put the strawberry jam on his and furrowed his eyebrows, deep in thought.

"I keep thinking of things that make no sense," he said, "I keep thinking about Scotland and an interview."

"Why?" Mel asked, knowing that something important was going to happen soon. If the Doctor started turning back into David she would have to explain everything, and then he would leave. She knew it was only fair under the circumstances. Why am I worried or upset? She thought to herself. I knew this was bound to happen anyways.

"Well, I guess...I don't know. Does the name David ring any bells?" he asked. She sighed deeply. Time to explain...

"It must have happened when you hit your head," she said, looking him straight in the eyes. "Because the name David does mean something to me, and to you."

"Why should it? I have more important things to do than remember silly people's names!" the Doctor almost sounded offended at her statement. Mel ran a hand through her dark orange hair.

"The thing is, Doctor, you're not really a Time Lord. Time Lords, as far as I know, don't even exist. Neither do the Daleks or Cybermen or your big blue TARDIS. It's all just a big part of my favorite show that you just so happened to be the star of in the recent past," Mel explained. The Doctor, now David, seemed shocked. Then he frowned and became very indignant.

"Oh hush now, Mel. You know that's a lie and so do I. I'm the Doctor, I travel through time and space and save people. You work for some strange race, don't you. You're trying to brain wash me!" he stood from the table and backed away from Mel rather quickly. He stood in the corner, between the window and the television stand; his eyes flashed around like an animal stuck in a trap. Mel stood from her seat and approached him slowly, as if he were a wounded animal.

"Listen, David, that's your name. You thought of an interview because you were on your way to one when you were hit by a car. The fact that Doctor Who was on your mind was probably the reason you thought you were the Doctor. The force of the car knocking you onto the ground, combined with a bump on the head, might have scrambled your memories. Your real name is David Tennant and you're an actor on BBC," Mel spoke slowly and clearly. "Obviously falling on the ice rink knocked some of your senses back."

"I...stop it, Mel! I thought you were my friend," he cried, sounding hurt. She could see the tears welling up in his eyes. He was so confused and lost.

"Come here, Doctor, I have to show you something," she sighed, reaching for him. He allowed her to wrap her arms around him and pull him onto the couch with her. He leaned his head against her shoulder and breathed in the comforting scent of her shampoo. The Doctor liked it here, and he didn't want to leave. He had a lot to do to save the universe and all that, but he liked it here an awful lot.

His blue eyes traced Mel's movements as she turned on the telly and skipped around on a program called Netflix until she found...THE TARDIS!

"You knew what it looked like all along!" he said, glaring at her. She shook her head.

"Look, Doctor," she said. Mel pushed some buttons and the screen suddenly showed him. He was talking to a young woman with dark hair and dark skin. They looked to be in an Inn of some kind in the fifteenth century.

"I remember that! That's when Martha and I saved Shakespeare from those witches," he exclaimed, sitting up. Obviously the show wasn't going to be enough to prove to him that he wasn't really the Doctor. She searched on Youtube and brought up an interview he'd done only a few weeks prior to the accident. He grew more and more upset with every question that was answered.

"Mel, it's not fair, it's not-"

"David?"

"Yeah?"

"What are we going to do now?" she asked. He grasped her hand in his, firmly, afraid to let go.

"I don't know. But whatever happens, you're gonna be with me, right?"

"Of course."