I don't want to be cliché or melodramatic, but there's really only one way of saying this. If you're reading this letter, it means that I am dead. Now pay attention, because what I am going to say is important, and I'm not there to rap you over the head and make sure you're listening. All right.

First off, I know that if I'm dead, you are blaming- no, torturing- yourself. Don't. Don't you dare. And don't take it out on anyone or anything else, either. You know I'm not naïve, and I'm not stupid. After our first adventure, I had a fair idea of what I was signing up for. A life like yours- oh, who am I kidding? There's only one life as absolutely bonkers as yours. Your life, then. Your life is always dangerous. Except for the beautiful bits. Well, no. I suppose it's dangerous even then, and sometimes more so.

It's because you are like fire. You have to keep moving, going on to new things. You are so important, but need to be handled properly. You lose focus easily, spreading out and trying to be everywhere (and everywhen) at once. You are entrancing, dazzling, but dangerous. Inevitably those around you get burnt. But the fools deserve it, and the wise ones know how to pick themselves up and move on.

Speaking of moving on, you should do so. Not to exaggerate my own importance, but I know you'll grieve my death. That's fine. Shutting everyone out and traveling alone isn't. Find someone else, and quickly. Maybe you'll want to warn her by telling her how I died (hopefully doing the right thing), or maybe you'll never speak of me. Either is fine. Just don't be so afraid of losing people that you refuse to get close to anyone. Enjoy whatever time you have with everyone. Each person is a gift. Cherish them, and they will never truly let you down. If you treat them right, then even when you're angry with them, both of you will know that it will turn out okay.

People make mistakes, and so do you. Don't you ever let that stop you, Doctor. Don't you ever let the darkness in the universe stop you. Because there's light, too. As a very wise man once wrote, 'There is some good in this world, and it's worth fighting for.' I know that as long as you see the good, you will fight for it. Never lose sight of it, Doctor. In others or in yourself.

There is so much that I wanted to say, but...I don't think it would help either of us. So really, there's not much left that needs saying. Please let my family know that I am gone, of course, though you needn't reveal the exact circumstances of my death. In fact, I have a package for them with letters explaining things as far as they'll each understand. Oh, Doctor. You're like a wonderful older brother, always dragging me off to see new things and poke them with sticks, yet always fiercely protective.

I love you. I will miss you very much. Get plenty of hugs and take care of yourself (yes, that means eating your green vegetables). I wish you the absolute best in all your endeavors. And always remember that everything comes right in the end- if it's not all right, then it's not the end.

Quite Sincerely,
Your Good Friend
Emma Baker

P.S. Here's to the good days and the bad. Cheers!

The Doctor clutches the letter with trembling hands- hands which still bear her lifeblood. He reads it again, dry-eyed, and replaces it carefully in its envelope. The letter is stored in a place where he can find it easily; take it out time and time again to read. He sits, quiet with the false peace that comes when all your tears have been spent and the new crack in your heart has begun to stop bleeding. Over time the pain will fade, and with it the memory of her smile. But he will always keep her letter, to remind himself of why he keeps fighting. To remind himself that he can always become better.