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Last year I used to hate him. Mr. I'm-so-intergalactically-smart, saving the world with his bloody screwdriver. Swanning about in space with Rose, him all dark and, well I wouldn't say handsome. Not with those ears and that forehead. Those books Rose's Mum reads would say compelling, yeah? Or intense or some other shit-fancy word for sexy. Nah didn't read them, 'sides the covers are enough to blind ya, yeah? But they've got curly lettering on the back and well, I spent time holding Jackie's hand last year. You know, before we knew where Rose was an all. Bloody Doctor!
Yeah I was hurt. And jealous. But think about it long enough, go though maybe two or three end of the world type crises and you finally get around to remembering that he may have asked Rose to go adventuring, but she was the one who said yes.
Rose was the one who thought I wasn't enough. Not smart enough. Not enough prospects. And that's despite seven GCSE's and my job down the garage. Still didn't think I had my shit together, did she? Not like that bloody-intergalactic-menace who was older than rocks. What? She told me he's like centuries old. Like that made him Mr. Smooth. Nah. Problem was me. Not enough for little Miss Rose was I? Thought she'd outgrown me, didn't she? Maybe that's why I thought he'd say no when I asked if I could be the new boy, the new tin dog, yeah? But I thought, well he got a new face an all. What's another adventurer rocking around in this space box gonna hurt? Did think he was going to say no, back when I first started thinking 'bout asking. Back when I thought he couldn't see past my attitude, past the fact that I'm Rose's ex. Then we met his and you know? She was alright. Funny and smart and not a bad looking bird, for someone who's old enough to be my gran. Or well at least someone's botoxed Mum. Ha, Rose's face was payback. Not that she's not special mind, cos she is and then some, just that it's not always about her. Sometimes it's about more than just her. Like sometimes it's about me. Or her mum. Or Shireen.
Last time Rose left Jackie cried her way through four cups of tea, a packet of hobnobs and an entire jar of chocolate spread. I tried telling her that if Rose had gotten into uni and gone off up North, to Manchester or Leeds or somewhere, then Jackie wouldn't see her much anyways. And I did remind her that Rose's jimmied mobile picked up in over two hundred galaxies, but, yeah it didn't help much. She sobbed all about how Rose daughter wasn't likely to run into invading, flesh eating monsters in Leeds. Didn't have the heart to tell her that nothing was impossible. Not if you're following that Doctor bloke round the universe. Didn't tell Jackie that some nebula thingy, with a beach made of ice, or salt or whatever, might be safer than Leeds.
Didn't tell her that last year for Rose it was all about Rose. And she thinks she sees stuff past the end of her nose, that she's being real observant. I don't think so! She thinks I'm all excited to be coming along for a day-trip, well yeah okay I am, but it's not just about going boldly, you know? She thinks he's happy as a frigging loon behind his new face. As if!
God he's got more mood swings than Darren's cousin Bobbie and she's bi-polar, which is the fancy name Americans have for manic depression. And yeah he's manic alright? All wide smile and stripped trousers. Me? I've been waiting for the crash. Haven't seen it yet but I can feel it's coming. And it's gonna be bad. Intergalactically bad. Dunno maybe Rose thinks it's all just like a game on a huge frigging X-Box; or maybe the ship makes you think that once it gets inside your head so that French or Swahili sound like ruddy English. Maybe the ship makes you think it's a game. Or maybe Rose just isn't saying. You know? I still remember Rose crying that the Doctor went off to war without her. Yeah, back when he was looking out at the world from that other bloke's face. Back when they had that other git travelling with them too.
Like I needed more competition from Mr Flirt your mouth off. And I thought he meant business, really I did, all smiles and winks for Rose. But his eyes yeah? Never left the Doctor. Played for the other team right? Which wasn't a problem when I discovered his flavour wasn't, well me. Not that he was the first guy to check me out. Anything's possible when you hit the clubs. Wonder what happened to that bloke? What was his name? Yeah, Jack. Thought he'd have been with them, dragging the Doctor's unconscious bones into Jackie's flat, back when he was spewing glow-bubbles at Christmas. They must have dropped him off somewhere, some time or other. Ha! He's probably dancing round a pole in some bar at the end of the world. All mouth, no trousers. Come on that was funny, yeah? Thought of asking the Doctor what happened before I came aboard, cos it's not like there's a dental plan, but then well... God the ship frigging flies. Right? And well, I plain forgot. Wouldn't have thought about it again I guess but...
He doesn't sleep right? The Doctor I mean. Don't know if he doesn't need to, or if it's alien insomnia or something but he doesn't sleep. And I needed clothes. Rose came on board with a huge rucksack full of crap. Me? T-shirt on my back. So she led me off to wardrobe. Went back in the early morning two days later. And there he was, the Doctor. Sprawled out on the floor, propped up on his elbow, legs beneath the over-hanging racks of clothes.
And you know what was weird? He was wearing a different coat. Not his usual beige job that looks like Rose's auntie's sofa. No it was grey. A winter coat. Nice cut. Square shoulders. He was lying there writing, in ink - yeah real ink out of a bottle. Like you see in those boring chic flicks. Dipping the end of the pen into the bottle then writing half a line; like scratching the words was better than using a biro. He was writing in a battered notebook yeah? And then he looked up, looked at me, sat up and crossed his legs; closed the book. Didn't say much but it weird yeah? That moment, it looked like he was hugging himself with the coat. And then he unwraps a handkerchief and holds out half a sandwich. Banana and ham. Who the hell eats banana and ham sandwiches? He made some half-arsed joke about potassium, then ignored me while I looked for another pair of jeans and a puffa jacket, in case it's cold where we're going. He just opened that damn notebook again and just stared down at it.
Rose should have told me this was the ship of broken-hearted fools. Would have known then that I'd fit right in. Not that I'm a fool, not me. No. Rose still thinks it's about the posh blond in the poufy dress, in back there historic France. And that makes sense you know? After all, it means she's still in the game if that's what's got his heart smashed up like a clockwork man. If it's the flirty-bloke, well she never had a shot then did she?
And that? Well it's the best news I've had since I got spat out of a wheelie bin.