Disclaimer- I don't own DW, or any of the characters. I'm not writing this for profit, or personal gain- just the enjoyment of the fans who read it.

Hallo all! This is my first fic in this fandom, so please review, and tell me how it could be improved. I've read some really amazing ones, and that's sort of my goal. Check out the fic 'Facets' on A Teaspoon and an Open Mind, it's probably one of the best Ive ever read!

But now, on to the story.

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Every morning she comes from her room, looking a little sadder then the day before. I think that purple ink stain on her cheek is going to become permanent, if she keeps falling asleep on her diary. She's still trying to work through it all, the regeneration, the loss of my former self. I don't begrudge her that, but I wish it was me she was turning to.

That old tatty book can't hug her, or tell her that he's still here, even if I don't look like I did.

I've not always liked my past selves. Not something I really proud of, mind you, but it's still true. But it's hard to explain, it's almost like running into an old friend that you haven't seen for a very long time. You don't really know anything, except for a lot of shared memories.

As much as you might have once been inseparable, now you're different people.

But I don't think I've ever hated one, as much as I am coming to despise the one who came before me. And at the same time, I desperately wish I could jump out of this existence, and be him again.

Because it would make her smile, and because I know, deep down, that she can probably never love me like she loved him. Ironically, because I still love her as much, if not more, then my past self ever had the chance to.

Had he only opened himself up, let himself admit to what it was, he knew, growing in his heart, then maybe it wouldn't have had to end this way. With her staring at me, and not really seeing anything.

Sometimes, not often, but sometimes I just want to grab her and shake her until she finally looks at me. I don't so much care if it's in fear, or love, or joy- I just want her to see ME without his shadow. Without the knowledge that she's still wishing it was that silly face, with the hawkish nose, and the ears that could pick up radio waves.

Well, yeah, that was uncharitable. I mean, he did die to save her from the Vortex that was running through her mind.

But no man can watch the woman he loves pining over another, and still remain calm!

Not for long now though, because she'll be leaving. Any morning, I'm just waiting, for her to tell me that she wants to be taken home. That she can't trust this new face. And I'll let her go.

Because I want her to be happy, and I want her to have the kind of life that she deserves. The former Me was selfish to ask her, to put her in danger-

And I'm glad he was. As much as I hate him for leaving her like he did, I still love him, because he met her. And without him, she wouldn't be sleeping through that wall. Lying on her bed, cheek pillowed by that damn journal.

Tomorrow she'll stumble out here, bare feet and Bugs Bunny pajama pants with holes in the hems. And that purple ink will still be on her face, and she will still look at me with distance in those beautiful eyes.

And I will hate him a little more, and love him, because at least, for this moment, she is here. And I can see her one more time before this little world I live in, gets smashed at my feet.

It feels sort of like tearing out your own heart, and grinding it to a bloody pulp under your heel. 'Cept for I have two hearts to tear out, and twice the mess to clean up after. So I try to commit every moment to memory; the tape to hold me together when she's gone.

Right now I want to throw open her door, and beg her not to leave. But when she is gone, all I have is my pride. My former self grieved for our people, and I know I shall grieve for what she gave me.

Joy, hope, and some measure of peace.

This morning will be different, I know. It's too close to the hour she will wake, and I won't have time to hide my red eyes. To be entirely honest, I'm not even sure I care to anymore. Let her see the effect she has on me.

The breaking double hearts in my chest, and see her turn away in disgust at my weakness. I am more afraid of the sound of her alarm, then of anything else in all the worlds, all the galaxies and races.

No being ever created any torture so brilliant as I have made for myself.

Ah, and that's the maudlin side of me coming out. Doesn't make it any less true, but if I keep on in that vein, then I don't think I'll be able to stop myself when she wakes up.

Letting her go is like suicide… And there's the sound of her alarm.

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There go, review please?