Title:
Dead Inside
Author: Irlanda Anima
Fandom:
Doctor Who
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairing:
Ten/Rose, mentions Martha
Summary: It was the little things
that always got him…
Author's Notes: Short little drabble – well, it's a little longer then a drabble, but I tired – that I wrote in an attempt to give my brain a break from essay writing. You may need a tissue.
It was the little things that always got him: her hairbrush beside his toothbrush on the sink, her jacket thrown over the back of a chair, the smell of her skin against the sheets of their bed. Every time he thought that he was getting better, that he was somehow moving on, he'd smell her or see something of hers and he'd be right back where he'd begun.
It didn't get any easier for him to bear. Time was supposed to heal all wounds, but he above anyone knew how that wasn't true. Even if you lived nine-hundred years, you never truly get over the losses that you have suffered, especially not one as horrible as the lose of Rose Tyler.
Martha didn't get it. She tried to understand, tried to comfort him in a loss that she just couldn't comprehend. Didn't she realize how much his inside's burned, how the thought of never seeing her again, never touching her or tasting her ever again almost drove him to the brink of insanity. The only reason he was holding on was because he knew that Rose wouldn't want him to lose himself. She'd want him to go on, to live for her and have a fantastic life as he had asked of her.
But how could he continue to live when his soul was dead inside?