This is my first submission. Comment if you like it, or if you don't.

Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who. Simple enough really. Yarsian does all of my fact checks. Yell at her if something is wrong.

Bear with it and you'll figure it out.

Stop Crying

Humans are a persistent and hardy bunch of people. We endure tremendous hardships and yet we go on. Unfortunately, love can seriously alter our ability to persist. Sometimes it will shut us down, leaving us crying in a corner, and sometimes it pushes us to keep trying, only to end up losing everything. Either way, it seems that this emotion, that brings us our greatest happiness, can also bring our greatest moments of despair. Don't get me wrong, I have seen the beauty of love and would gladly give anything to have it again, but I have realized the devastation of a lost love.

She was my girlfriend for years, until his' showing up and taking her away. She just went and ran off with him, as if I had never even existed. I was saved from those crazy mannequins by her, and the next thing I knew, she was gone. I got arrested, on multiple occasions, for her murder, and twelve months later, she showed up again and acted as if she'd only been gone for a day or two. It was as if nothing had ever happened. This man with no name just dragged her back after a year and brought the whole bandwagon of weird stuff with him. He wasn't weird like the slightly eccentric guy down the street. Instead, he dragged around aliens, burping, me-eating trashcans, and those kinds of things. I have always been quite the optimist and I offered them all of my skills to help remedy the strangeness that he would bring along. It was all a naïve ploy to try to win back her heart. All she ever did though was fall deeper and deeper in love with him and farther and farther from me.

Honestly, my adventures with this mysterious man were likely the most exciting days of my whole life. I always had a thing for sci-fi and aliens, so spaceships and alternate dimensions were a bit of a dream come true. I saw a ship, stranded in deep space, built of flesh and blood and a whole lot of metal. Most of my adventures, however, were based on earth and involved chasing around bat creatures or stopping baby faced aliens with gas problems from infiltrating our society as a band of doppelgangers.

Ultimately, I ended up in this world, after having slipped through a crack between the dimensions. Nearly everyone knows about the cybermen and the whole ordeal surrounding them, so I won't be going too far into it. Basically, the Me from this side is dead and I got sucked into Torchwood. I stayed behind for a chance to start over. I wanted to forget about the two of them, and find love all over again. It wasn't too long until we had to get to work stopping the cybermen from slipping through to the other side. I was reluctant to go back, because I wanted them to be happy, though this was more for my own sake than theirs. All I wanted was to never see them again and to go off and live my own life. At least, that's what I told myself. The two of us could never be together and I knew that well. Torchwood gave me no choice however, due to my unique nature; I had to go. Having been to the other side makes you special I guess.

When I did go over to the other side, I had to blend back into the world and quickly work my way back up the Torchwood ladder. I was too busy for romance, and when the fighting began, I just got busier. When the ordeal was over with, we were both stuck on this side and He was stuck back in his home dimension.

As a man of many wondrous feats, he did manage to squeeze a hologram through to our side for all of about two minutes. He made it into a very dramatic final message and almost got out his confession of love before he was cut out. If things weren't bad enough for me before this, it had all gotten many times worse. The conversation left her in tears and I was the one who ended up caring for her. I sat by her side for more than a month, taking care of whatever she couldn't. This amounted to just about everything. I just kept on going with this foolish hope that maybe, just maybe, she would notice that I existed.

She never did. That man was her life, and as she had so frequently reminded me, he was gone forever. I was a nonentity, and day by day, that notion started to assert itself on me on more and more. I had been suffering for her sake, which would have been acceptable had she appreciated my sacrifice.

It was time for me to leave.

One day, I was taking care of her; the next, I was gone. I told my Gran that I had gotten a better job offer in Liverpool, and we packed up our things and moved off. It was better this way. It eased my suffering to be away from her. No explanation was given for my departure. If I had sat down with her and tried to explain my thoughts, I would have changed my mind. She did deserve to know though, and I had intended to tell her. I eventually managed to sit myself down with a piece of paper and start writing.

Rose, you're a smart girl, figure it out.

It was all that I could manage to get out, but it would be wrong to send it to her. I just crumpled it up and threw it away before leaving. She had probably figured it all out anyway.

POV: Mickey. (If you didn't figure it out.)

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