Dear Doctor,

It's funny, isn't it, that now I've started typing I don't know what to say. OK, to be truthful I know where I'm going to end up. I just don't know how to get there. I don't know what to say first. It's like when you had little time to say something and you can never reach what you really mean. That's how I feel right now as I'm writing this, but I've decided that I can at least try to make up for it in this letter (or try my best).

The way I said goodbye to you went horribly wrong and I know how much I must have hurt you. I'm sorry for that. I didn't mean it to go that way. Don't take it as a personal thing. It wasn't you; it was just the circumstance that I was in and my emotions. I know you've said before how brave I am, but there is a limit to me. My Brave Heart wasn't what it had been. I couldn't have born to see anyone else die. I came back, you know, or tried to. I tried to sort it out properly as I'd made a complete hash of not being able to say goodbye the way I wanted. You deserved much better than what you got. When I saw you leave without allowing me to apologise for what I had done, it really upset me. And I cried. I never ever got around to saying goodbye properly. That upset me the most I think. What you must have thought of me. I'm so sorry for hurting you the way I did, but I missed you so much, and that just made things worse. I still miss you if I'm going to be frank. I never stopped missing you and it still hurts me in a way. Things just have never been the same without you.

We'd been travelling together for a long time and I know I left once before (but you found me again). The thing is though, I changed my mind. I wanted to see you again. I've cared for you (I even saw you through a regeneration for God's sake) and it felt like there was a hole in my heart when you'd gone. I still had hope in me that one day you'd come back and find me like you did before. It just never happened. But there's always still that hope I'll see you again, and it won't die. I just still wish some day I could see you again: just once more will do. I know I've said before in this letter that I'm missing you but it's true, and I still don't think I can put it well enough in writing. I'll live. Hopefully I can get my point across. You know I care though even if I am stubborn, direct, and loud: a mouth on legs. The thing was when I left you I began to feel as though there was nothing really for me anymore. You were my life, Doctor, and I must have made at least some form of impact on yours (I hope I did anyway). Although the time travelling was fun (whilst it still was fun) it isn't the thing I miss. I would go back though (even though my stubbornness and emotions insisted I leave last time) just to see you again. I had good friends. I miss Turlough, and Adric, and Nyssa, but it's you I miss most of all. I miss you more than anyone, Doctor: more than anyone else before or since.

Now this is the point in each of the five draughts of this letter, I stumble at. Do you know what it feels like when you know where a conversation or letter wants to end up but any way it is spoken/written it doesn't sound/look right? This is one of those moments for me. I'm sat here at my desk, writing this, looking at each different version of this letter I have written and on each one the part I write at this stage just doesn't sound right. Even when I try speaking it to myself it doesn't sound right and seeing it written down just looks stupid. I realise though I have to try. I'll never feel better if I can't manage this. God, Doctor, it's already going to sound stupidly fan-fiction but I know I just have to try and get across how I feel and the thing is it's both harder and easier than saying it to your face. It's you that I wanted to talk about really. It's about you. I don't know what it is or was that made me feel the way I do about you but it never went away. It's funny to think that all those years I was travelling with you but I never had the courage to say how I felt. It feels kind of weird, but now I really know. My heart knows now. I know you were my friend, Doctor. You were more than my friend as I was to you. I always felt it somehow: that I loved you.

There. That's it. It's down on paper. There's no going back. I've written it down now: I love you. This still feels so strange that I'm admitting it, but it's been left too long unsaid, and now it feels better now I know that at some point you will read this and know. I don't want it to scare you in any way (I would still like to see you), and I don't want it to hurt you either. I don't really suppose I would mind if you didn't love me back. I just think that if you know I might feel better in a way that it's not killing me inside that I left you in the way I did, feeling how I feel. I just need to let you know, and there's no one in this universe who could ever be like you. I hope you understand.

I probably have gone on too long now. I can't really say more than I have already said. The truth was though (as much as it pains me to think it), nothing would ever have come of us, and that upsets me. We've already made our choices. I can't be a permanent part of your life anymore, no matter how hard I try to kid myself. Some things just aren't meant to be. At least though it's not my secret anymore; you know and I can take a little comfort in that. I never meant to hurt you. I want to see you so badly, I want to speak to you but I don't know how to (hence this letter). I honestly think I'd wait forever and a day for you, just to see your face one last time and give you a proper goodbye: the one you deserved. I hurt us both when I ran away like I did. I hate the fact that the last thing I ever said to you was "I can't. I'm sorry." I'm so sorry, and even more so if I've made this worse. I'm only human. I'm sorry. Forgive me please, Doctor. I'm sorry if I've made things worse.

With love,

Tegan.