Three times now, he'd said it -- first on the beach, and twice today. The first time, she'd been unprepared, and she'd acted stupidly, and she'd lost her Doctor because of it. How many nights had she laid awake, sprawled flat on her back in bed, sheets twisted, pillows askew, asking herself how it could have been different if she hadn't kissed him.
The words were still pushing at her, even now, and she curled her hands tight on her knees to keep herself still. She loved him - not him, but her Doctor. She loved him, first with those haunted blue eyes and too-bright smile, then later... Rose looked over her shoulder at the image of the one who had her heart, wholly unaware of how the raw longing telegraphed itself through her eyes. It'd been a change, loving the one who first grabbed her hand, then loving the one who came after. They were both the same, but they were so very different, too.
Her Doctor had been right. This one was much more like the blue-eyed Doctor she'd first met, than the one Cassandra rightly accused her of looking at, and liking. She'd loved him, too. But what about her Doctor? Was he really expecting her to just... just pick up with this other one, and carry on as if nothing were amiss? As if it were him?
Consolation prize. Ha. Surrogate, maybe. Her fingers clenched hard, hard, and she dropped her head, trying to make sense of it. The ache in her chest was so strong that it felt like she wouldn't ever breathe right again.