Doctor. My dear Doctor.
You probably don't recognize this handwriting. You probably don't recognize the name attached.
If I told you, you probably wouldn't believe me.
As you are probably never going to get this letter, barring some interference as is so common where you are concerned, that's fine.
It's been a long time since I last saw you, yet, having spent so many years in your orbit, there is a crystal clear picture of you in my mind. Not exactly a picture, but a sketch of your essential character. Though I know all of your faces, it's the current that runs beneath the surface that is what makes you.
It is that which drove me to become what I… am. Was. And, depending on where you are standing, will be.
I had one task to achieve in my existence and, having completed it, was at loose ends. There was no reason for me to continue being, yet, I was loathe to just stop. So I looked at the person who I admire most and did what he would do.
Steal a TARDIS and see the universe.
I fell into your habits quickly, Doctor. I took companions, got involved, wore ridiculous things while spouting ludicrous aesops inapplicable to the situation at hand. At the time, it was embarrassing, but now that I am, presumably, dead in the most permanent sense, that isn't an issue and I cannot list it as a great regret. I loved, I lost, I lived, and I only rarely got what I really wanted, but when I did, it was fantastic.
If you received this letter and cannot for the life of you figure out the who or the why, see if you can cast your memory back to the day you stole the TARDIS. Alternatively, the day she stole you. Consider an impossible girl, if you can remember one face among the dozens if not hundreds of companions you have had over the years.
If you can remember her and her puzzle, then the rest of the pieces will fall into place.
The face has changed since, many times over, in fact, but my *words scribbled out* feelings towards you have remained much the same. Affection and admiration, because even when you made mistakes, don't deny that you haven't, you always did your best to make them right.
The Doctor is the man who makes everyone better, is he not?
You might wonder why I write now instead of making contact at some earlier point in time since I seem to know your ways so well.
Well, in case you haven't noticed, there's a war on. The Time War, of which there will be no winners, only survivors. I have doubts as to if I will be one of them.
You would probably point out that this is a bad time to be writing letters. My counterpoint is that if these things remain unsaid, the regret of silence will find some way to follow me beyond the grave and, even now, as time draws nearer for me to resume fighting, the weight of these words make it difficult *line trails off*
To put it shortly, you were and still remain one of, if not the, most important person in my universe. You altered the constellations of my reality, and showed me galaxies beyond my imagining. You showed me kindness and courage and a thousand other things that carry me through my darkest days. Without you, I would not exist.
If that is not reason enough to love someone, yes, I said it, I know not what. So yes, Doctor, these words needed to be written down. If you find them, do not look upon them and despair.
I have lived. I have loved. And I have had the pleasure of knowing you.
Love,
Ozymandias