Title: Words

Summary: He can't say the words that she needs to hear. But that doesn't mean he isn't feeling everything associated with those words and so much more...

Disclaimer: I don't own it!

2nd Disclaimer: I have to admit... I was quite drunk when I wrote this. I did some proofreading for spelling but otherwise left it alone. Turns out that seven rum and cokes evokes 10/Rose stuff from me... Also, I don't own Eskimos.

Written from the Doctor's POV

It's said that the Eskimo tribes of Earth had no word for "war." This begs the question of whether or not war existed for them. If you have no word for something, then how could it possibly exist? Linguists and such love that question because it defies logic either way you look at it. One could say that having all of these words for war could act as some sort of self-fulfilling prophecy. At the same time, just because it hasn't been given a name doesn't mean that it doesn't exist - or that it doesn't already have a name.

Imagine a group of Eskimos gathering to discuss relations between themselves and their neighbors. Perhaps there has been a disagreement, which has then led to more disputes, which have grown stronger as time passes and they remain unresolved. Disagreements lead to frustration, and frustration leads to anger, and anger leads to a desire for action. That action, fueled by anger, becomes both parts of a continuous cause and effect relationship, getting more intense as they carry on and the differences between the two groups become larger. The end result is war, unless a compromise is reached.

And for a culture that doesn't have a word for it, war can sneak up on you quickly and quietly.

And what is war but the intensely violent means to an end? The end we search for may be incredibly different for each individual, but there is always an end, even if we can't see it and don't know what it is. In that regard, war is very much like love.

Love – the ever-present but hidden trump card that calls out to us from our most secret of dreams. Is it not for love that we strike out in hate, in anger, in destruction? In war? War evokes so many emotions in those that it encompasses, but it never eradicates love. Each person involved loves something or someone enough to do what they're doing, whether that be fighting or just surviving.

In much the same regard, love can be just as devastating as war, if not more so. It's the fears that are intensified by love that can kill us more swiftly than any weapon in a war. It wasn't until I realized how stricken I was with fear at the thought of something hurting you, scaring you, or even making you sad that I knew that I'd already fallen too far. I can't survive that level of fear. And yet, there's no turning back. Not now.

And now I'll display my feeble attempt to escape the inevitable pain that losing you, losing my light, will bring about.

I'll deny it. I don't deserve it. You don't deserve what my love would do to you, because everything I love ends up destroyed or worse. I cannot allow myself to love you. I cannot devote myself entirely by saying a simple phrase, nor by thinking it. I can only convey what I wish I were able to. I love you. Such a simple phrase, and yet I'll never be able to utter it in any semblance of sincerity. It may slip past my lips in the rush of a laugh as we discuss the finer aspects of chippies throughout the universe, but it won't escape when I most want you to know it.

But I can't... I can't just not tell you how much I love you every time I see you, hold your hand, hear your voice, or speak to you.

This is where the mind takes over. You see, we as people have our fears, we have our insecurities... But our hearts and our minds know what we want. Together they work to convey what we cannot do consciously. Such a simple emotion... one that I cannot allow for myself, and yet I display it to you at every opportunity.

Every time I look at you, my eyes light up with joy – you bring purpose back to my life, and I find myself wanting nothing more than to make you smile.

Every time you hold my hand – an electric shock passes through me, and I know that it's so much more than just adrenaline. It's a connection. You and me. We are the same and we live as one. I live with you, around you, beside you. I cannot do anything but live my life for you.

Every time I hear your voice – I cannot break away. You speak and you smile and you laugh and you break my heart every time. You break it, but you mend the tears so completely that I forget how, when, and why I was ever broken. I hope to never endure a day without your voice. Such a day would leave my hearts crying for some sort of remedy, some master craftsman that could repair it. Such a day... please don't stop talking to me.

And every time I speak your name...

Rose Tyler.

I cannot allow myself the risk. I cannot risk, nor allow, the absolute feeling of completion that your name actually symbolizes. I can only pour my emotions into those two words, let the feelings show in my eyes, so that you might realize just what you mean to me. If I take your hand and speak your name, I wish only to tell you all that you are to me and let you feel the complete and utter devotion that I feel for you.

I speak your name. I speak it and nothing else because it's all I can do. Every utterance of your name is a plea – help me, save me, keep me, stay with me, forgive me, don't leave me... It's such a selfish desire, and one that I hardly deserve, but I can't help but yearn for the peace that you provide for me. However, all those desires, those self-serving wants, barely come close to how strongly I beg of you to forgive me.

Forgive me, for I cannot say what you want to hear – what you need to hear. What I can do is promise that you mean everything to me. You are everything I breathe, everything I see, and I see you everywhere. Your reaction, your smile, your caring heart... I see and feel it all around me and I am so terrified of the day when I'll no longer sense you in every aspect of my life.

I don't use your words for it – I can't allow myself that privilege – but I feel it and so much more every day.

Please don't leave me.

Please let me know what you think... Does alcohol + fanfic writing = rubbish?

And yes, I know many variations have been written about how the Doctor loves Rose... this is my feeble attempt.