I never did pack that suitcase.

I always knew that he wouldn't return in time. There was no chance of it, the years jumped as they liked and with my incredible bad luck I had a feeling that although he would return, it wouldn't be in time. And the thought of it would make me smile; a master of time not returning in time, it was ridiculous.

I didn't see why he couldn't have taken me right then, when we met for the last time; when he told me to pack a suitcase. I didn't need to take anything, though it all seems so petty and pathetic now.

But I also always knew there could never be anything between us. Because that blonde girl, the one with the strange accent, the one who called herself Rose, had love for him. It generally wouldn't have bothered me, but I could tell that her love for him was stronger than mine would ever have chance to blossom into. And by looking into his head, I could see that his love for her made whatever small attraction we had seem miniscule in comparison.

So, as I had in all those times without him, I missed him, and there was never a day when I didn't think about him, but I would go through the days. Or at least try to.

But maybe it wasn't all that bad. I wrote an account of my encounters with the clockwork androids, and I've made sure that my descendants publish it when something like that comes into fashion. Because I have seen in the doctor's mind that it will. The things he was thinking of when I saw into his head, all I could see were monsters. So many monsters that it was frightening, even though I hadn't experienced them first-hand. But his memories were so vivid and clear. Yet so very lonely.

I looked after his horse through all those years that he was missing, Arthur as he had called him. I had hoped maybe one day he would be able to join us and travel in time and space. It was a childish and silly hope, but it was thoughts like that that would keep me going throughout the years. Like how the Doctor and I would dance upon stars, and travel into the future, seeing the strange clothes they wore and impossible contraptions they would surely have made. And how we would grow old together. That was easily the most childish and impossible thought. Because even though I knew almost nothing about the Doctor, it didn't take a genius to see that my love didn't age.

But I did age. I grew old. I became ill.

And although I didn't pack that suitcase, I did pick a star.

Au revior Doctor. Au revior mon amour.

A/N: You guys should have seen my face when I realised that virgin media was giving me a lot of Doctor Who for free. It was a very happy face. So I spent my weekend watching series two, and 'The Girl in the Fireplace' inspired me to write this. Very good episode, good job Mr Moffat. Anyway, hope you liked this, and a review or favourite or whatever would be most welcome. (: