Disclaimer - Don't own Doctor Who etc
Author's Note - This is my first Doctor Who fic, and first fic in general for a while, so please tell me what you think. I don't mind if its bad feedback, just let me know your thoughts. This is a warm up for my return to writing my House fic. If this goes down well I may return to Doctor Who. Now edited to make a little more sense and to fix all the grammatical errors. Enjoy!
When she left me the first time they called me a murderer.
In some ways I suppose I was. I'd let her go - leave with a total stranger. A man came and told her he could travel through time and space and she believed him. She went with him and I let her. I was scared that day, but not as much as I was once she had gone. I hated myself for not stopping her. It didn't take long for me to realise that that man could be anyone. He could have lied. He could have kidnapped her, and now she could be dead. They believed she was dead, and in those twelve months I began to agree. I kept quiet about what had happened, too caught up in my own guilt to admit the truth. But the truth changed. By the time she came back it was too late. I shared their belief. She was dead, and I'd killed her by letting her go. I was a murderer.
When she returned to me for the first time I saw that she had been murdered.
It had been twelve painful, lonely months, and then suddenly she came back. She was lying on the sofa, looking guilty and she didn't need to say a word for me to realise that I was right – she was dead. The girl I knew had been replaced. She was more confident than previously; she could stand up for herself and fight for her home against people who shouldn't even exist. She wasn't the girl I loved anymore, but I still cared for her more than anyone else. I could only hope that she still felt the same way about me, but I wouldn't know for a long time because he stood in my way. He was slowly murdering her.
When I joined her for the first time I understood who was being murdered.
More than a year passed again. He changed, and more subtly so did she. She came back to me again and we ate chips as she watched him with a "friend". She barely noticed me, but I told myself it was because she was dying. He asked his friend to stay with them; it was another blow to her and knew it was only a matter of time before she died. When his friend declined I asked to come. I hoped I could heal her before it was too late. But soon I realised that she wasn't the one who was dying. For about a month I watched them and for about a month I slowly and painfully died, finally understanding what had been happening for the last two and a half years.
When I left her for the last time I realised who the real murderer was.
I said my goodbyes and left them forever. She was upset, but it was her fault.
She had murdered me.