The girl lying on her bed jumped as she heard the window creaking open. Sitting up, she saw a folded piece of paper lying on her windowsill. But when she looked out, all she could see was darkness.
Reaching for the paper with trembling fingers, the girl considered calling for her mother. But something stopped her.
When she unfolded the paper, she saw that it was full of hastily scrawled words. Skipping to the bottom of the page, she saw that it was signed with a simple D.
Frowning, she settled down on her bed and began to read.
My dear Reinette,
You don't know me yet, and I won't explain how-or why-I know you. But I do. And giving you this letter with hopes that it will someday reach the Reinette I knew is the closest thing I can ever come to seeing you again.
Because our timelines were entwined under a long period of time, and going back into that would definitely rip several major holes in your universe, which, unless my previous knowledge proves faulty, is extremely not good. This most likely makes no sense to you now (unless the french have developed a lot since I last saw you. I have avoided France for a while, but that's a story for another time), and it probably won't make sense to you in the future either. But I feel better knowing that there at least is an excuse for me not-
Oh. I'm sorry. As a good friend of mine would have said, spoilers.
Lets move on.
You'll only be about six when you receive this. I apologize for the time gap, but it's the closest I could get without causing any lasting damage (you'll probably experience severe headaches for a few years. Sorry).
This is the first time I've done this. Written to somebody from my past without wanting to warn them, or get them to do something vitally important. So why am I writing this letter?
Firstly, want to thank you. For what, I cannot tell you. But thank you, all the same.
But that's not all. Because there's something I have to tell you. Something that I want you to remember. Something that you must never forget.
You are fantastic, Reinette. You may not think so, but you are one of the strongest, bravest, most ambitious people I have ever known. And you are important. More important than you had ever thought possible. Reason may tell you that you can never do great things, never accomplish anything. But Reinette? Never listen to reason.
I realize now, looking back, that to a six-year old french upper-class girl I probably sound mad. More than mad. Insane. And you're right. But please, Jeanne-Antoinette, hear me out. I know you. I'm not lying, I do. I know how you dream of the stars, dream of traveling above and beyond the limits of this tiny world. How you look at them, and see not empty spots of light, but hundreds, thousands of opportunities, beckoning you to follow them.
You've never told anyone that, have you? But your future self told me, which must mean something. So read this letter, and then hide it. The words on this paper must never be read by anyone but you, do you understand? Hide it, but please, please, don't forget where you put it. And when the time is right, read it again. Even if it's just a bunch of meaningless words scrawled on a piece of paper by a madman.
Keep an eye on your fireplaces.
And I'm sorry. I truly am.
~D
The woman lying on her deathbed clutched the letter to her chest. A tear fell silently down her cheek as she remembered the man who had written her this letter. Her avenging angel, her knight in shining armor. The man she had loved, and lost. Her imaginary friend, who had stormed in through her fireplace-her fireplace!-and told her monsters had nightmares about him.
D.
The Doctor.
Her Doctor.
Smiling, she settled down on her bed and closed her eyes for the last time.
