Notes on Coping
Author: soaring_smiles
Rating:
Pairing: 11/Rose, mentions of 10.5/RoseA
Rating: All-Ages
Spoilers: Up to S6 finale
Disc. I don't own
Summary: He keeps writing to her. It's not helping much.
A/N: Oneshot, taken from my collection at FF. Angst. A LOT of angst.
Dear Rose.
I’m a new man today. With a bow-tie, and strange hair. There’s a girl, her name’s Amy. We saved the world, and then she saved me. She’s going to travel with me now, even after what happened with the star whale.
Is it nice there? Are you getting old, having kids, walking down the aisle?
Are you happy that you left me?
******
Dear Rose.
We met the Daleks again, after everything, and I wish you were with me. Amy doesn’t-couldn’t- understand.
The Weeping Angels came after us today. The cracks are starting to worry me. Amy is too. She’s running from something, only she won’t tell me.
There’s a woman called River. I watched her die, when I was past me. I don’t know what I think about her.
How is the metacrisis? Is his cardio respitory system holding up?
If he dies, would you find me again?
******
Amy’s engaged to that man, Rory. And she kissed me. Me! So I took them to Venice. We ran into trouble(of course), with vampires and fish people and aliens. It worked, actually. They’re in love, I can see it.
I keep seeing you, which is a bit weird. I didn’t think that this would last. Maybe it hasn’t.
Rory doesn’t like me much, and I don’t blame him.
Is it wrong that when she kissed me, all I could feel was you?
******
Dear Rose.
Pollen got into the TARDIS, created a dream world, and the Dream Lord too. We had to choose, Amy and Rory and me, but Rory died. And Amy chose right, because choosing me doesn’t ever work out-not really. Rory’s fine in reality, and I find myself looking at them, and seeing us.
Everything is wrong, Rose, and you should be packed away in a little box labelled ‘PAST COMPANIONS WHO LEFT’. Except you’re not.
You’re in my head, all these stupid emotions and memories, and it’s ruining me.
What have you done?
******
Dear Rose.
Rory’s dead, properly. Sucked in by the crack, and Amy forgot. She forgot him completely. I don’t want that to happen.
I’ll take her someplace nice. Paris maybe.
Have you forgotten me?
******
Dear Rose.
We met Vincent Van Gogh. Amy loved it, and I think her subconscious has remembered Rory. And if something can be remembered, it can be brought back. I tried it, with you, except it didn’t work.
Vincent was so unaware of his talents, so blind to the future, so I had to show him.
He still died though, still left in the end.
Are you seeing parallels?
******
Rose.
Humans are funny things. Craig and Sophie were so in love, just too shy. That isn’t the strange bit. That bit is that they were perfectly free to be together, to grow old and spend forever with each other, and still they hesitated.
I wish I’d gotten the words out, because now you’ll never hear them.
Something’s wrong Rose and it’s scaring me.
The Pandorica is just a fairy tale, legends. But River says it’s real, and that makes me uneasy.
A storm is coming, I can feel it.
Wish we could weather it together.
Does the other me deserve you?
******
Dear Rose.
I died, sort of. Came back though, because of Amy. I was at her wedding, after the TARDIS exploded and time was rewritten. They danced.
Do you remember the Blitz, and Glen Miller?
I know it was Jack’s first, but now it’s all I have left. They played it, for a slow dance, and I swear to Rassilon I could have-
I watched them, the girl who waited, and the last centurion.
Two thousand years, but that didn’t stop him.
Why did my mouth stutter around the words, my brain tiptoe around it?
Because now, I just wish, with both of my hearts, that it was me and you who were slow dancing, making our way around the floor.
I’m so full of jealousy when I think of you doing it with him.
These letters are my only lifeline, and I’m sorry.
My hand feels so empty.
Would your fingers fit mine, do you think?
Course they would.
******
Dear Rose.
I stopped writing to you. I couldn’t really take it anymore, so I tried to put you out of my mind.
Sorry about that, because you climbed out of that little dark corner of my head, and swirled your way into the spotlight.
So much has happened.
The Silence, a pirate ship in the stars, River kissed me.
I wasn’t sure about that last one.
Idris reminded me of you, somehow. Maybe it was the fact that she was living, breathing Time Vortex. She was beautiful, and I wish she had stayed.
River is Amy’s daughter( long, complicated story) I’ve , ruined her life and Rory’s. I couldn’t convince her otherwise.
But I kept hinking of Donna, and Jack, and Astrid, and you. I ruined them.
I’m more cautious now, in this lanky body. Less passionate, less open. I don’t even cry, anymore. Not even if I go into your room.
There must be something wrong with my tear ducts.
But Amy and Rory were happy, and alive.
So I took them home.
It hurt, a lot. I’ve saved her over and over, watched her age prematurely, and even seen her turned into a doll.
Rory will take care of her, which I’m grateful for.
But still, I can’t shake the feeling that it was wrong.
I’m going to die soon, Rose. For real this time. No regeneration.
I don’t want to go, not yet.
And if you can’t be there physically, at least I’ll see you when I close my eyes.
Will you see me?
******
Dear Rose.
Please come back.
Love the Doctor.
******
Dear Rose.
I didn’t die. Obviously.
But I got married, to River. I felt like I was betraying you, though.
That’s stupid, because you probably have Time Tots running through your house with walls, doors and carpets.
That hurts.
Although, I suppose you’d hurt, if you’d seen me getting married.
I like River. I care. But I don’t love her.
You’d be jealous. That’s okay. I’m jealous of him, too.
I keep imagining you going grey, wrinkles spidering across your face, stories and tears and laughter.
You weren’t made for that life, I know it. You’d be so much better off with me, travelling and seeing the stars up close.
Or maybe I just need you.
I can’t even lie to myself now.
I’m going to crack Rose, I know it, and I’m going to go see you.
I just don’t know that I can walk away.
******
Dear Rose.
Sometimes, being dead seems better.
******
Dear Rose.
My mind and hearts are fracturing
Maybe I’ll see you again, and I hope so.
Or maybe I don’t.
Regardless, I want you to know, even though you can’t even hear me.
I love you.
There. Not too bad, not really.
I could rewrite it all; you could be here with me.
The question, the age old question that I’ve been running from.
Doctor who?
You’d know.
******