This is my first Doctor Who fic! Yay! I had this idea before watching Season 4, so this story kind of disregards the events of that season.

Disclaimer: I do not own the song Some Nights, and I most certainly do not own Doctor Who.

Some nights I stay up cashing in my bad luck
Some nights I call it a draw
Some nights I wish that my lips could build a castle
Some nights I wish they'd just fall off

But I still wake up, I still see your ghost
Oh, Lord, I'm still not sure what I stand for oh
What do I stand for? What do I stand for?
Most nights I don't know anymore...

Alone. Gone. Forever.

These are the only three words running through my head. Alone. My knees buckle and I fall to the ground, not caring how wet the sand is. Gone. My mother rushes over after seeing me fall and tries to talk to me. Forever. I can hear her voice, faintly, as if it's coming from the end of a long tunnel. Alone. Hot tears are running down my face and I can't stop them, I can't think, I can't speak, can't do anything but cry. Gone. It feels as though someone stabbed me in the chest right through the heart. Forever. The pain is unbearable.

Alone.

I'll never see him again.

Gone.

I've lost him.

Forever.

Suddenly the ground opens up just meters from my feet, my mother runs away screaming, but I can't move. I'm stuck, glued to the sand. The crack leads straight to the center of the Earth and it's filled with burning magma. It's getting wider and I'm going to fall in, I'm actually about to die and I can't do anything about it, I can't even try to get away. He can't save me, not this time. The ground disappears from underneath me and I'm falling, falling...

With a jolt I sit up in bed, drenched in sweat and shaking. A nightmare. Just a nightmare. I take a deep breath and shakily wipe the tears from my eyes, which apparently were real. My chest is heaving with great gasping breaths, as if I've been underwater for a long time. It was a dream, Rose, I tell myself firmly. It's not real. Except for the part that was, the corner of my brain that's brutally honest reminds me. Six months ago I really did kneel in the sand on Bad Wolf Bay, nearly blinded by pain. Grabbing uselessly at the sand as if he was hiding under it, about to pop back up, smiling. My mother trying to get me to speak, to say something, anything. Crying harder than I ever had before and finally allowing my mother and father to guide me back to the car. My dream, which pops up in my sleep every couple of weeks, is based on reality, because I really did lose him. My Doctor.

I swing myself out of bed, knowing I'll never get to sleep with those thoughts. It's been half a year. It's time to move on. I pull on my robe and go downstairs to the kitchen to get a glass of water, quiet so as not to wake up my parents or baby Tony, who is a very light sleeper. Tony is my little brother. Kind of. Well, his mother is my mother but his father is my father from a different dimension so technically he's not actually my father? So Tony's my half-brother? I don't even know. The Doctor would, but I don't think about him anymore. No. Stop. I gulp the water down my dry throat, appreciating that I'm alive. I do that whenever I start thinking about him. I count all the good things. My family's here, Mickey's here, I live in a beautiful house, I have all the money I could ever want, Tony is healthy and happy, and I'm alive. I am a person in this universe, and I am alive.

Now, because I'm unable to stop myself, I think good thoughts about the Doctor. He's alive. Probably. He got to say goodbye. He's most likely found a new companion by now, which is good, because I don't think he would travel well alone. He's having adventures, I tell myself. Maybe he's even regenerated by now. Who knows? I don't. And I can't control or change that. I take a deep breath and grasp the kitchen counter edge. It's nights like this that kill me. When the might have beens and what ifs and remember whens creep in and overwhelm me. When I have to think about the Doctor or I'll explode. I can't stop the words from spilling over in my mind. Doctor, TARDIS, Dalek, sonic screwdriver, regenerate... These words, these words that once meant so much that now mean nothing at all in this world. They are empty. But I can't stop those stupid, stupid tears from brimming over and falling into the sink. He's gone. He's worlds away and I will never see him again. Ever. Never hear his voice, or the TARDIS landing, or the screwdriver's buzzing, or, or, or...

I scream at myself in my mind. Stop. You've gotten over it. Because I have, in a way. After the first month I started talking again, and eating regularly, and even laughing. I began once again appreciating the beauty in life. Oh, I wasn't a hundred percent better. There were, and always have been, nights like these where all those emotions I experienced at the beach come back to me. Once or twice I considered ending it all, I really did. But then I reminded myself of the Doctor telling me that everyone was important, and every being in the universe had a role to play. I realized I could never do such a terrible thing, never disappoint him. His memory, anyway. And thinking of his voice made me smile, and try to be happy that it happened and forget the rest. Which worked. Sometimes.

But other times I stand just like this and try not to remember what it felt like when my heart broke. I don't mean in the figurative sense; I mean I could feel a physical, insurmountable pain in my chest, like it really was breaking and shattering and being crumpled into a thousand pieces. It felt like hell. It's better now, and like I said, life goes by normally during the day. It's just those rare nights like these that bring back the pain.

I straighten up from the sink, realize how cold it is, and walk back to my room. Nothing will change Rose, do you hear me? Nothing. Will. Change. So go back to sleep. You're alive, all because of him. Take advantage of your life. I fall into bed and put my mind elsewhere. Tony's antics, the dress I just bought at the shop yesterday, Mickey's sweet new girlfriend. I slowly drift to an almost peaceful sleep. In the morning I awake, a bit later than usual. I haven't forgotten last night, or my nightmare, but I've moved on because I have to. I begin to get dressed, looking for a clean pair of jeans. Huh, they must all be in the wash. I dig through my closet and find a pair crumpled on the floor in the back. At first I wonder why they're back there but then I realize that it's the pair I wore on that fateful day in Bad Wolf Bay, dried sand still crusted on the knees. I almost don't wear them but then I give myself and mental shake and pull them on. They're just trousers, for goodness sakes. I put on my favorite shirt and I'm about to head downstairs for breakfast when I feel something in my front right jeans pocket. I reach in and pull out... A pebble? No, it's a piece of paper folded very small, many more times than paper could be folded normally. By a human, anyway.

My heartbeat races as I sit down on my bed and begin to unfold the paper. It takes a long time, mainly because my fingers are shaking so much. I realize it's a letter, written in a familiar hand. If I thought my heart was racing before, now it's gone positively wild, threatening to burst out of my chest completely. I read:

Dear Rose,

I don't know when you'll read this, if ever. I suppose this is a pretty stupid idea, though at the time I thought it was quite clever. Oh well, not all my ideas can be amazing. What I want to say is that I care about you, Rose Tyler, very much. I've almost lost you a few times and it was absolutely terrifying. I know someday something will happen, you'll decide to leave or be forced to leave or whatever. Perhaps I'll kick you out because in old age you'll become bothersome (I'm kidding, I promise. Well, I'm probably kidding). But I just want you to know that you are magnificent, Rose. You're a wonderful human being, who puts most humans to shame. I have (or I had, depending on when you see this, I suppose) a brilliant time traveling with you, and I want to say thank you. For being you ,and for sticking with me this long.

Yours, no matter what, forever,

The Doctor

I'm crying again, but with joy this time. I clutch the paper to my chest, rocking back and forth on my bed. I can't even form proper thoughts, just happiness. Because even though we can't ever see each other again, he'll still be with me. Always. He's my Doctor. And I had a bloody fantastic time with him, traveling through time and space in his magical blue box, having glorious adventures. And though I'm sad that those times have passed, the Doctor will never leave my heart. I won't forget him. Someday, when Tony gets older, he will hear the beautiful tales of an impossible man with two hearts who flies through the galaxies. And he'll know why his sister's alive. He'll know how I became who I am today.

Thank you so much for reading! Comments and reviews are greatly appreciated. Bye :)