In a small town just out of Bergen, the new Doctor goes for a walk to clear his head.
Ten II/Rose. 3k, PG. On Teaspoon once approved, and AO3.
The Doctor was terrified.
It was an odd sensation, being scared liked this. It was different from the type of fear he was used to – the fear of death or Daleks or being unable to prevent some sort of catastrophe. That particular brand of fear was so much a part of his everyday life that he was quite used to it, and more than able to channel it into genius or productivity or adrenaline. He’d lived with that sort of fear so often, for so long, that some people probably thought he liked it. It was a motivator, something that kept him running even when he otherwise might have stopped.
This was different. This was terrifying.
He laid on his back atop the hotel bed sheets, staring up at the ceiling through the dark. The room was silent apart from his own breathing and the perpetual drip-drip coming from the bathroom sink. Some part of him – some human part – thought that probably he should go to sleep. He could almost feel it, that unfamiliar sense of physical exhaustion, and he knew from years of observation that human bodies tended to perform poorly without rest. If he didn’t sleep now, he’d have to the next day, and likely for longer. It would be optimal to sleep now.
But his stomach was a tight, uncomfortable knot, his heart felt like it might burst from his chest, and he couldn’t seem to turn off the dozen questions playing on loop in his mind. Could he really live like a human? Who was he, really, without the TARDIS? What would he do each day, stuck in the same place and time?
What the hell would he do if Rose decided she didn’t want him?