Ten years ago she stood on that beach in Norway and bared her heart. It didn't matter that he hadn't had time to tell her the same, if that's what he was going to say. He knew how she felt and she could go on. Not as naive as before, not as happy as before, but go on. She may not smile as often or laugh as easily, but she was living each day, and that alone was an accomplishment. If a piece of her heart was still traveling a universe, it was a small price to pay for the time she had with him.
It's amazing what can change in ten years. She was 30 years old and working for Torchwood. She had passed her A-levels as a requirement for promotion years ago. She never thought traveling the universe would help her pass university, but a surprising amount of information was applicable in other areas. She has a wonderful little brother and sister. James was born about a year after they arrived in Pete's world and their little sister Pam arrived two years later. Jackie settled quickly in this world and after the first few months never mentioned their past life. Mickey was still a good friend. Her trust in him only deepened in the last ten years, but they never returned to a romantic relationship. They only spoke of their life with the Doctor late at night after drinking too much. Those kinds of memories never saw the painful light of day.
It's amazing what can stay the same in ten years. She still dyes her hair a sunny blonde. She still eats chips and tea. She still dashes headlong into danger and boldly stands up for what she believes. Those qualities have helped her advance at Torchwood into a squad leader position. She still has the tendency to attract trouble and the knack for talking her way out of it. The gift of gab was something she learned well from the Doctor and every time she walks away from a war of words she smiles softly to herself. She still loves to shop and while trainers are not as essential to her wardrobe any more, she runs a couple times a week, just to stay in shape. Just in case. She was still single. It hasn't always been this way; she has had some meaningful relationships in the past ten years. But every time Joe, Sam, or Jeff wanted to get married she walked away. Even though she lived her fabulous life, she never really let go of the hope that he would return. Even after ten years she was still waiting for the Doctor.
Today she stands on that same beach, just yards from where she last saw him. If she closes her eyes and listens closely, she can imagine she hears the sound of the Tardis materializing over the crash of the waves. She knows it's only her imagination, but she refuses to open her eyes and confirm that he is not there.
Today she has come to say goodbye, something she didn't say ten years ago. Something she is not sure she will be able to say today. She knows little time has passed, ten years is but the blink of an eye. So much has changed; so much has stayed the same. No tears stained her cheeks; enough had been shed. No sobs racked her body; enough had stolen her strength. Those things had changed. But the wistful, hopeful, heartbroken look still filled her eyes. As the wind blew in off the waves and the salt stung her face she remembered ten years ago and the five and a half hours she waited. Those things had stayed the same.
Five and a half hours later, as she turned to leave, her single tear ran down her face, her single sob choked her throat. And her single whisper was carried away on the wind. Ten years sometimes doesn't change a thing.