A/N: Lookie! A ficlet: it's like a tiny baby fic. Aren't you proud of me for writing something so small and for once not rambling on and on and on? Anyways...thanks for all the feedback on my recent oneshot Questions. My inbox was like 'You've got twenty messages from .' Craziness. .
Every now and again, she can't sleep. Insomnia, cruel and relentless, exhausts her on these nights and still slumber will not claim her. She'll toss and turn but will forbid herself to look at her clock. She's always preferred to remain ignorant and content than knowledgeable and disturbed. The London suburb that she lives on is just too quiet, lacking some noise that Donna Noble can't even remember.
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Some nights, she doesn't want to wake up. In her dreams are images of other worldly beings and a man with a blue box. She pretends, in these fantasies, that the bed she resides in isn't in the city that never sleeps and instead is tucked away in the depths of a time machine. She imagines that the diamond of her engagement ring isn't from Tiffany's, but some alien marketplace. Martha Jones wakes up, but goes on deceiving herself.
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Each night before she crawls into bed, she opens her window and peeks out into the night sky. Some evenings the stars sparkle like gems, and she supposes they delight in taunting her. Others, the clouds are so heavy that she can barely detect their faint glow. She can't help but feel that soft urge to reach out, but she knows that old life is impossibly far away. Rose Tyler turns away from the stars and back to an echo of the man she once loved.