This is my first story. Constructive criticism would be much appreciated.
Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who or any of the characters associated.
Spoilers: Season 2 Episode 4, "The Girl in the Fireplace"

"Pick a star." He'd said. "Any star."

She had picked star and then she waited for him to come back; her man in the fireplace who always seemed to burn with his own light. She watched the fireplace expecting at any moment for him to burst through and whisk her away. After a while she went back to the window to look back up at the stars. She would wait as long as she needed to.

Years later she was still waiting. She knew he would come, knew it in her heart. Deep down she also knew that he might not come in time. She might be long gone by the time he finally got back. But she chose to ignore that part. He would come, and she would see the stars with him.

The years continued to pass slowly by as she continued to wait. She wrote him a letter and left it by the fireplace for him.

"Doctor, come quickly. Please."

At last her time is up. She is lying on her deathbed, still watching the empty hearth, still waiting for him to fill the room with his own unique fire. Deep in the fireplace she could see the barest glimpses of movement. A single tear rolled down her face. So he was coming. But he was coming too late.

"Doctor…" she whispered with her last breath, a slight smile sticking to her lips.