A/N: Before I begin, let me say that I'm mainly a TenRose shipper. However, Martha's little obsession with the Doctor...well...she deserved a moment of angsty glory.

Disclaimer: It's kind of hard to own a show when you're a nerdy fangirl, yeah?

"That friend of mine, Rose. Right now she'd say exactly the right thing."

Rose, Rose, Rose, always ROSE! Rose Tyler this, my friend Rose that, oh you're just a novice but Rose would know exactly what to say, wouldn't she? I turned away from the Doctor and blew out the candle with unusual force. He didn't react at all. That did nothing for my temper. I could sense him, just behind me on the bed, folding his arms, staring into the darkness. Whether the darkness of the room or the darkness of some memory of his that had long since passed, I couldn't say. But it didn't seem he was going to say anything else to me tonight, so I decided to allow myself a luxurious wallow in self-pity.

Where to begin? It was jealousy, I suppose. Jealousy of a girl I would never meet, of a girl who had possessed the heart of the man I loved. Laughably cliche, if you think about it. But how could one not be jealous when possibly the most incredible man you will ever meet won't stop talking about his ex? I would think of her that way, it was impossible to think otherwise. But what could she have had that I don't?

I bet she was blond, I thought savagely, burrowing my face into the pillow to stop myself from howling. Blond. Like Annaliese, and with her attitude and style of dress.

Hah-hah, there we go. No man, not even the Doctor, could resist an Annaliese. I smiled bitterly. He probably didn't actually miss little fair-haired tramp, just the things that she did for him. I was constructing a whole mythology about her, one that was rather unflattering, to say it politely. As I lay there with my back to the doctor, I imagined her as a whore, a crone, a gold-digger...the negative possibilities were endless. I was quite sure by the phrase "Right now she'd say exactly the right thing" he actually meant"We'd have a hot shag".

And yet...

The Doctor's form was warm against my back. He still hadn't moved, not so much as his eyes. I could feel him breathing, a soothing rhythym, up and down. It was the merest brushing of his coat along the back of my shirt, but it flooded me with a strange sense of contentment. After all, it was me, not her, who was lying next to The Doctor right now, icing him out by choice. If I wanted to, right now, I could turn around and...well...not just yet.

I had so much to say to him, so many things in a short amount of time. Ever since he'd kissed me during the Judoon raids--he insisted it was a genetic transfer, and I wasn't sure I believed him--well, that was it. I was trying to think of how to tell him, how to make him see that Rose wasn't the only girl worthy of his love. Problem was, I couldn't think. The undulation of his form against my back was almost hypnotic. The bed suddenly didn't seem so uncomfortable anymore. I was sinking into a warm darkness, my eyelids slowly closing. And it seemed to me, as I drifted into sleep, that the Doctor made a quiet choking sound, as though holding back tears.

My poor, dear Doctor...