- Post Doomsday -
The doctor, shortly after returning that woman Donna back to her home and leaving, had some time to himself in his TARDIS. He thought about what had happened just before the redheaded woman appeared on his beloved ship, and when he realized so, he cried, harder than he ever had before.
He never got to tell Rose that he loved her. She said it to him, so clearly, her tears streaming down that beautiful face of hers. And he never got to say it back.
He questioned himself, though. Did he even need to say it? She knew, right? He hoped she did. He really hoped she did…
That was until he found the letter.
The doctor decided to go back to Rose's and Jackie's apartment, just to see if there was anything of Rose's he could keep that would… remind him of her, no matter how much it would hurt.
He stood in Rose's bedroom, his brown hair a mess, staring out at everything.
Until something caught his eye, that is.
An envelope, labeled, "For The Doctor" on it. His hearts skipped as he reached for it, picking it up and carefully opening it, not wanting to rip anything.
A million thoughts raced through his mind just before he started reading. What did the letter say? Why did she leave it here? Had she planned to give it to him, or was it for… for something else?
He unfolded the pages, and read:
Dear Doctor,
If you're reading this, it means I'm dead. I don't know how you'd feel, quite honestly. I just want you to know that through all of our adventures together and everything we've been through, you opened my eyes up to something I never even imagined I could experience. You made my life worth living, you made me feel important in this world, rather than just another person who wakes up, goes to work, comes home, eats dinner… goes to bed… I wanted to do something more. You made that possible.
I probably never got to say this, so I'll say it now; I love you. Since the moment we met and I stepped into the TARDIS, I knew. Maybe it was just friendship at first, but now I regret every single second of not telling you I loved you before. Not kissing you, missing all my chances to be with you is my biggest regret. I really do love you, Doctor. I only wish I would have said something sooner.
I don't know if you loved me. But I'll tell you what; I'll miss that stupid smile of yours. I'll miss the way you got excited about everything that came your way that meant we could go on adventures, and we could go somewhere else. The way your eyes got intense while you were focusing, and the way you love everything, and you give such compassion, when you have every right to hate this universe.
I'm not going to pretend to know how much you hurt everyday, but just always know there's nothing else in the world that ever made me happy as much as you did.
Goodbye, Doctor. I love you. Remember that.
Love,
Rose Tyler
There's barely words to describe how the Doctor felt after reading the letter.
His hearts broke. Tears streamed down his face and dripped onto the paper. He knew Rose wasn't technically dead, but still, this hurt. It hurt so bad that he hadn't felt this much pain since when he had to kill his race. He loved the world, he loved the whole universe… but he loved Rose Tyler more. He loved her so much it hurt knowing that she never got to hear him utter the words.
But why, why did it have to hurt this much? He dropped the letter and fell to his knees, gasping for air, choking out sobs. He'd never cried this hard before, ever. Why did it have to be Rose?
But he could never see her again. He knew that.
So it was time for the Doctor to shove his feelings away, compose himself, carefully put the letter back into it's envelope, put it in his pocket, and walk away.
On occasion, the Doctor still opens up the letter and reads those words. He knows that now that she has his clone, but he still longs to know what it'd be like if it was him instead of… well, the other him.
But still, he pushes the feelings away, composes himself, and smiles at his new companions every time it's time to go somewhere new.
After all, he can't spend his whole life dwelling on the past, when he's got the future ahead of him.
