A short little thing that works as a one-shot but could be continued if you lovely people demand it. I'm not sure yet. So please read and review.
Characters: Ten, Martha.
Disclaimer: I own nothing!
The Doctor throws open the door to a blast of icy Cardiff wind and breathes it in deeply.
"So this charges the TARDIS up right? Like a mobile phone?"
"Something like that," he says dryly as he looks down the litter that has just blown itself into his ship and is wrapping itself around his ankles. He shuts the door and stoops to pick up the sheet of newspaper, crisp packet, and what looks at first glance like an A4 white leaflet. So he isn't quite sure why he turns it over and starts reading it.
"To my dearest Doctor."
The first line causes him to choke.
"What is it?" Martha asks concerned.
The Doctor ignores her, his eyes racing across the page.
"I have no idea why I'm writing this letter and throwing to the wind in Cardiff. But I miss you. Maybe you'll read it, maybe you won't. If it gets sucked into the time vortex maybe you'll read it in hundreds of years time when I'm dead and gone.
I'm working at Torchwood…well this realities version anyway. Mickey and Pete work here too. I keep looking you know? For just the smallest hint of something that might be you. I go running to the furthest reaches of Scotland only to find that the alien that may have been you was merely a crazy farmer ranting at the sky. No crazier than writing letters that no one is ever going to read I guess."
The Doctor closes his eyes, the letter crumpled against his chest. His chest hurts and it feels like he can't breathe.
"Doctor? Doctor?" Martha says in his ear.
"I'm fine," he says automatically opening his eyes.
Martha stares at him. There is a deadness in his normally sparkling eyes that scares her. "Tell me what's wrong."
"No!" he snaps sharply, stepping away from her. "No," he says softer, burying his nose back in the letter.
"Mum had her baby, a boy. We called him Jack. After the Captain of course. He's growing up to be just as much of a handful. And I'm happy. Most of the time. I'm trying to have that fantastic life you asked me to such a long time ago. But there are times when I just want to curl up into a little ball and stay there. It's always at night, in bed, that I let myself think about you. It's too hard otherwise. I heard this Jason Donovan song the other day (yes they have him in this dimension – He's more successful than Kylie!) and its me. Its what I feel Doctor.
'Another night and still you're gone, another dream that you're coming home, another day I could just survive but I can't take another night.'
I wonder if you think about me. Do you ever miss me? I know what you meant to say on the beach Doctor and I would give anything for you to say it. But you can't and I understand. Leaving me was never about us. It was about the bigger things. But standing on the rift in Cardiff clutching a letter that you may never read, the bigger things don't seem to matter all that much. I miss the little things. The way you'd grin at me. The way my hand just fit inside yours. I accosted a man in the street because he looked like the old you.
But I'm not going to think about you anymore Doctor. I can't. Its too hard and I hate it. I hate that my stomach turns inside out when I even imagine the noise of the TARDIS. Whenever someone mentions a doctor I feel my heart skip. I can't do it anymore I'm sorry. I'm fed up of going crazy. It's been two years. I'm fed up of feeling like this. I can't have a fantastic life with your shadow over it.
So its time to say goodbye Doctor. I love you but I have to let go. If you ever read this, have a fantastic life Doctor. All of them. Yours always Rose."
"Doctor?" Martha grabs at his arm as he sinks to the floor, tears streaming down his face. "What is it?"
He turns his wide hazel eyes to her concerned face and she is shocked to see such terrible devastation there.
"What is it?" she asks again. "Doctor please you're scaring me."
"Rose," he says and starts to laugh through his tears. "Rose. Rose Tyler. Rose." Because she may be forgetting him but he wasn't forgetting her.
Martha steps back. Rose. The last girl. The one he never mentions. The one whose memory has been all but erased from the parts of the TARDIS he'll let her see.
The Doctor folds the letter carefully and slips it inside his jacket pocket. Maybe, just maybe, one day, he would make Rose change her mind.