

He supposed he was lucky, being human now. Mortal by a random man’s definition, but he didn’t feel lucky. He felt small and alone and everything his people were not and never supposed to be.
But he tolerated it because the feelings…oh the feelings! The quickened pace in his chest that came with catching the eye of someone pretty, the pain behind his eyes from staring for too many hours at the pages of a book, the textures of things he’d never spent long enough to memorize against his skin.
And the trouble. Yes, the trouble he was most proud of. As the Doctor he could easily escape any amount of discomfort with a smile and little green light but as the Doctor nowhe had to rely on his quick tongue and cleverness and the cleverness of others. The cleverness of her.
Claudia Donovan might have been his greatest discovery. And stuck as he was, as he was, and as drawn as he was to the Warehouse by design, she, she was the light that burned always so brightly in his peripheral.
His feelings for her as he was now were so similar to the ones he’d had for Rose as he was then that sometimes he had to step back and remind himself that he’d love so many in so many different ways that comparing them all would tear him to pieces - hearts and soul - and in a moment everything was clear and everything made sense for a moment.
But humanity was nothing if it did not repeat itself, to learn the same lesson again and again in different ways and the same could be said for his affection, friendship, love - however he could describe it in a human word - with Claudia.
I officially ship this!