A/N: Hello. I took a little break from my other DW story to bring you this! Hooray?

Anyway. In the beginning of the third season, I decided that I…extremely disliked Martha because, you know, she wasn't Rose. But as the episodes wore on, I decided again that I feel a bit sorry for the poor girl. And vóila! I wrote this; what I hope is a passable narrative of her thoughts on herself, the Doctor, and Rose. I hope you enjoy it.

Somniloquy

The whole place is quiet, only the sounds of machinery and things working now. I sit cross-legged on the bed in my home away from home, thinking about where we—me an' the Doctor—are. We're in a spaceship. Blimey. A spaceship, a blue police box with a great big spaceship stuffed inside of it, hovering just above a planet millions of years away from anythin' I've ever known or loved. I'm not complaining though. The Doctor's shown me so many wonderful things. We've been all over the place, seeing all sorts of bizarre and brilliant sights, saving the world, saving each other. Now, in this old room that looks like it's been lived in before, I can't believe I'm actually here. After a day of wonder, we come back to a ship that's more silent than a mortuary.

I un-cross my legs and stretch out. 'Least the bed's comfy, unlike that horrible thing we slept on in that Elizabethan inn. I remember that night, frown, and roll onto my side, wonderin' what a man like the Doctor does for a little R&R. Oh, I think, he's probably off somewhere messin' with bits of the TARDIS. That's all I've seen 'im do, anyway. That, an' stare off into nothing, looking like a zombie. I wonder what he thinks about, when really, I have a good idea. Or, as good idea as any who've been 'round 'im.

He's remembering. His family, his planet, with its beautiful burnt-orange sky and citadel, its people. He's never said if he had a family really, but I'm sure he did at one point, before they…There's no way a man like the Doctor didn't have someone who cared for 'im. Now he's lost them, I think it's what keeps 'im going forward. Backwards, whichever. He's both the strangest and most wonderful blokes I've ever met. Mad and brilliant, with the biggest heart…hearts that I've ever seen in one man. He'll go up to complete strangers, look 'em straight in the eyes and tell them he'll help them, no matter what the cost. And, he always does. How could a man like 'im not draw people to 'im?

But, he's so lonely. I'm the only one he's got. A man like 'im…He loses everythin', and it breaks my heart every time I walk into a room and he's got that look of remembrance on his face, barely able to keep the sadness of it all in. I want to wrap my arms around 'im and hold tell 'im that it's okay, that I'm here. It's not fair that a man like 'im should have to suffer so much. All the good he's done, an' he gets nothing for it. But he…He just looks at it as a way of the universe balancing itself out. He does so much good, but the price he has to pay is that he doesn't get anything he wants in return. All he does receive…is heartache.

What he wants…What I want…I sigh and climb to my feet, leave the room and try to find my way back to the main room through the mess of corridors. I know my face probably has the most terrible expression on it, but can't find the will to change it.

He could have me so easily. If he asked, there's no way I would deny 'im. I try not to think that I love 'im, though it's really too late. Sometimes I let myself believe there's a chance, that one day he just might come out and tell me he feels the same, but who am I kidding, yeah? Though I may hope and dream for it…Even if I reach out my hand to 'im, he'll never use it to pull my into his arms, kiss me, hold me close. Never in the way I want 'im to, at least. Because in that place his mind travels to when no one's around, where his memories comfort and torment 'im, he sees her face, not mine.

I'll never be.

I'm selfish. I don't mean to be, I just am. Human nature, I guess. I should be happy just walking down these corridors, happy to be here with 'im, seeing all these amazing things. I should be happy that whenever I want to, I can reach out an' touch 'im. She can't. But, it's daft. Even though I'm here an' she's not, I'm still jealous of her. This…Rose. Someone I've never even met before! I feel so many things towards a woman I've never even laid eyes on.

I hate her, maybe a bit. For leaving 'im all…bent an' broken, alone. I hate that when he looks at me, he sees her. I envy her for capturing his hearts and keeping them locked away tight, even in her absence. I wonder what sort of person she is. But I know I love her too, for giving 'im something to fight an' kick an' struggle for. He says it's impossible for them to ever be together, but he should know that nothing is impossible. I love her because he loves her. I love her because I know that she must love 'im. An' that's reason enough for me.

I realize now that I'm probably lost, because I've passed the pool three times now. I backtrack and try a different pathway, hoping it will set me right. What would I do, if she did come back? I couldn't stay. It'd be wrong. But, I know that deep down, I want her to be found by 'im again. All of the things snatched from a good man…He deserves her. More than anyone, he deserves to be happy.

Would I change 'is heart, if I could? Seduce 'im maybe, tell 'im to forget all about her? I come into the console room at last, and spot him sitting on the sofa with his back to me. He doesn't hear me approach. I know that look is on his face again.

No…He's fallen asleep. He looks, for once, so peaceful. I sneak up quietly, move a lock of hair away from his eyes. He doesn't stir, but he breathes out a word. Even sleeping, he says it with such longing.

"Rose."

I smile sadly and leave the way I came. No, I wouldn't change his heart, even if I could. No one can take her place. I don't think anyone ever will.

"Sleep tight, my Doctor."

To all those curious, the title, "somniloquy", is the medical term for sleep-talking.