The Doctor sat in his pilot's chair, removing his bowtie. He was starting to get tired of the damned thing, always saying "bowties are cool" and fixing it when it got crooked. All his companions the last two hundred years made fun of him time and time again about it, and his 1,104 year old mind was growing weary. He just needed a good rest, a visit from someone from his past, and not from his future. River was bugging him a lot, always saying that they were married, and he should break her out of prison permanently.
He rubbed his hands over his face, wanting to sleep. It was rare for him to sleep, but when he did it wasn't much.
The Doctor got up from the chair, and turned out the lights for the console room. He trudged up the stairs, making his way to the hallway of bedrooms. There was a bedroom for each of his companions of the past, the most recent closest to his room. Amy's and Rory's room was just across the hall, next to that Donna's, then Martha's. And right next to the Doctor's room, was the door to Rose's room. He placed his hand on the door, remembering her loss. The door slightly opened, and the Doctor pushed it all the way open. The small room was still just as messy as it was when Rose was still there.
"Probably because she didn't know she was leaving" the Doctor said to himself. He noticed an envelope sitting on top of her pillow, addressed to him. The Doctor instantly raced over to it, ripping it open. Rose's handwriting filled the small page.
.
Dear Doctor,
You said a storm was approaching, and that I should never say "never ever". I decided that I better take your warning to heart, and that I'd better write you this. If you ever see this letter, then that means I'm dead, dying or lost forever. Not a very pleasant thought, I'm sure, but somebody's gotta be prepared, right?
I just wanted to say, that I love you. I love you Doctor. I never really said it much, or at all, in the past. We've had brilliant times together, and it hurts me so much to see you already foretelling our seperation.
Just do one thing. Have a fantastic life. Do that for me, Doctor, have a fantastic life.
Love,
Your Rose
.
The Doctor clutched the note, as if an essence of Rose's life was in it. His hearts hurt with envy of his human clone, in the parallel universe with Rose, living happily ever after. The Doctor never can have a happily ever after, can he? Everyone dies. Everyone always dies. River, Rose, Sarah-Jane, Rita, everyone he wants to take with him, everyone he wants to help, always ends up being ripped out of his life.
The Doctor put the letter back in the envelope, sealing it back up again. He left it in the exact same spot as he found it, and left Rose's room. With a wave of his sonic screwdriver, Rose's door vanished. It wasn't gone, just moved, to a remote part of the Tardis, where he's never have to see it again.