you're every star that ever was.

I love you.

I don't know what made me fall in love with you – maybe it was that magic you cast the very first night when you came to my house and bit that apple. I was yours from that moment on. You just sauntered in like you owned the place and told me about your blue box, the one with the library and the swimming pool (and the library in the swimming pool) and you amazed me.

I hadn't seen someone like you before – someone wild and funny and with that spark, that spark of something, something more.

I waited for you, you know. Of course you do, I never let it go. And the next morning when I woke up freezing and Aunt Sharon found me curled up in the garden, I tried to explain it to her. She didn't believe me.

That was when I first realised I loved you.

I loved the image of you, a man in tattered clothing who can do weird, impossible, amazing things. My Raggedy Doctor. You were so... safe, that feeling of security, of 'all will be well as long as you are here'. And then you went. And I kept you alive in my mind for years afterwards, I drew pictures and I wrote stories and I made clay sculptures – but of course, you've seen all that. You know all this. Why am I telling you?

You came back. You, who should have been a stranger to me, came back and it was too late. I thought so anyway. But you showed me it's never too late. I loved you for that.

I had thought I knew you better than anyone, but those were just the musings of an inspired little girl. When I ran away from the dress and into your box with you, I should have known I would have all the time in the world to unravel you, pick your secrets, decipher the inner workings of your mind, your heart. Maybe then I would not have been so eager to voyage across the universe with you.

It was dangerous. Not the monsters and the terror of the past and the dread of what awaits us in the future, but you. You were fierce and uncontrollable. You were feral. I loved you.

My Rory. My darling Rory. I love him too, you know. The difference is that he, unlike you, has stood by me all these years. He had been the one to hold my hand when Aunt Sharon broke her leg and had to go to hospital. He had been the first one to sign my cast when I was twelve and fell off my bike. He has been there.

And you haven't.

I know you say you will, I know you say you regret it and you vow to be there from now on, but don't you see? It's too late. The damage is done. I could have been yours forever, but you left me. I was too young, too naive, I believed in fairies. I believed in you.

Rory is the one I love, I should be saying. Rory, not you. But I can't help myself. If Rory is the one to catch me, you will be the one who pushed me, knowing I wouldn't fall, not really. I can't picture my life without the two of you in it; you are the rocks I can lean on. I depend on you. Not just to be there when I jump, but to love me and care for me and remind me to slow down, every once in a while.

What would I do without you?

I don't want this to end. This feeling of blissful peace, even though I know it can be shattered at any moment by a distressed phone call or a rocky landing on some foreign planet (I've stopped calling it alien now, and it's all your fault), is enough to make me wish I could live this life forever.

I love you, raggedy man. Don't you ever forget that.