Disclaimer: Don't own.
A/N: I've drowened in Post-JE fics. So I wrote a Post-DD fic. Oh yeah, expect a new chapter of '101 Things to Do in an Elevator' VERY soon. :)
The definition of masterpiece is a work done with extraordinary skill. However, what Webster failed to note is that masterpieces often are shunned or unappreciated for many cannot comprehend its true beauty. It frightens them, this foreign splendor, so instead of trying, they choose the simpler way. They shun it, or try to divest it. In our case, it has been succeeded.
I think of you often. You and your domestic ways, always seeing what I have failed to notice. I try to rid myself of these thoughts, as they are merely constant reminders of what has been lost. I don't want to forget you, but I don't want to keep this pain. Each day it strives within me, a steady remembrance that I have lost once again. I hate it, and I hate being away from you.
I've lost all my life, but never has it impacted me so. In the past I have been able to walk away, give one final farewell and continue on with my life. But this time is different. You're different. I've told you so, and I have seen the uncertainty reflected in your eyes. One thing I'll never understand, no matter how long I live or where I go, is how you could have doubted that. I'm aware that I haven't always been honest with you, but if you were to believe just one thing I've ever said, I wish it were that simple statement. You were different.
I hope you're happy, wherever you are and whatever you do, I hope it brings you joy. A safe kind of joy, not the perilous thrill I brought you. This may sound arrogant, but I sometimes fear that I've impacted you too much. You remember Sarah Jane? Of course you do. I don't want that to happen to you. I want you to live your life at the fullest, have that fantastic life. Destroy Cardiff, if that will make you happy. Just make sure to head to London before you push the big red button.
I…I've met a girl. Martha Jones. She's nice and clever, someone you would get along quite well with, I believe. I've asked her if she wanted to travel with me, and she has accepted. Of course, she's not here to replace you. No one could replace you. I offered her merely so I could show her the wonders, so she could try a different life. But I've discovered I rather like her. She's become a good friend of mine. And I'm fairly certain she would be one of yours as well.
You'd be happy to know that I haven't changed anything. Everything is still in its place, nothing different. Even your room is identical to the way I was when you left. I used to get annoyed with the mess, but I've grown to be a bit affectionate about it. Before, I would've done anything for you to keep it up to standards, but now I wouldn't alter it for the world.
I've managed to avoid this particular subject matter throughout this whole letter. Many I've written on it, but they've all gone into the fire. Maybe this one will too. Perhaps it's destined for a mess of smoke and ashes, perhaps not. Either way, I've got to write it down, for it's been eating away at me since that day on the beach. Rose Tyler, I love you.
Perhaps this one will go into the fire.