«No, no, no, no, no, no, no, don't you dare blink! Just hold a little bit longer and you will be fine." The doctor says into the phone, slightly out of breath. "I am almost at in the TARDIS, just keep your eyes open a little bit more!" You can hear how sad and desperate he sounds, and it makes you feel almost ill. "It's getting to hard Doctor. I need to blink; my eyes are staring to hurt."
"Ah, no, you are not allowed to blink, you hear me!?" now he really starts to panic. "Doctor, I'm not going to make it, they are going to get me." You say to him. "Yes you are! You are going to keep on not blinking, stay where you are, and escape this. And then you can go get married and have kids! Kids! You've always wanted kids! Remember when we talked about that? And you got all gooey, and started happy crying?" You smile sadly for yourself; he still tries to sound cheerful. Your eyes are filling up with tears, from the need to blink, but also from the pain starting to form in your heart. "Well, yeah. But I'll guess it will be in a different time period now. Wonder where I'm going to end up, maybe in Victorian London? I hope that at least end up some place where they speak English. I'm going to miss you, my running man. Goodbye." You can hear the Doctor shouting your name trough the phone, begging you to hold on just a little bit longer, but you can't.
You blink, and then you're not there anymore, and all the Doctor can hear is the phone clattering to the ground since you dropped. No use of that where you were going. He slows down until he eventually stops, now in front of the TARDIS door. He wasn't fast enough, he lost another. He stands there for several minutes, just pressing his hand on the door, not entering. When he opens the door, he barely gets inside before sinking down on the floor. He puts his head in his hands, and the tears start to pool in his eyes. They make wet dots when they hit the floor. He can't force himself to do anything, can't be bothered to.
This is the worst part of doing what he do, losing people. He had lost so many in his lifetime, and now you joined the list. He could still remember the day he met you, it had been one of the calm days. He had been traveling around alone for some time; the Ponds were at home then. He had stopped at a carnival, smelling all the food and looking at all the people having a great time. He hadn't been paying enough attention to where he was walking, and neither had you, you were talking to your friend on the phone, so you had bumped into each other. It was a very brief meeting. You both said sorry to the other, and then continued walking in opposite directions, not thinking anymore about it.
Your second meeting was the one that sent you traveling together. There had been Slitheens, but everything had ended well. You had surprisingly been extremely useful, so the Doctor asked you to travel with him. You were skeptical at first, but after one trip with the TARDIS, you were won over and said yes. You traveled to places far away and places far gone. You ran a lot, but there was days where everything was quiet, and those were used to talking quietly. Or just reading in the library, just enjoying each other's presence.
Over time the doctor had grown fonder and fonder of you, but he didn't act on any of those feelings, not very much anyway. Just simple touches that seemed natural, standing and sitting a bit closer than natural and similar things. He thought you would be weirded out at first, but you didn't mind at all, you even began to do the same to him. But neither of you had been brave enough to go any further, so it had just stayed with the unnecessary touches and nothing more. He deeply regretted it now; he wished that he had been brave enough. Brave enough to hug you even tighter, to burrow his face in your shoulder more often. Brave enough to kiss you, to let his lips follow yours. Brave enough to trace light kisses on your skin, brave enough to maybe even leave a mark. But he hadn't.
Before he got to pursue those thoughts, someone knocks on the TARDIS door. This is weird, the few times someone had done that, they had told him to move the TARDIS. And he is sure the TARDIS isn't in anyone's way where it is now. The person knocks yet again, and the Doctor stands up. He wipes his eyes and opens the door just enough to stick his head out. There is a guy standing there with his hands on his back. He looks like he is in his early twenties; he has green hair, blue eyes, a black piercing in his lip, tattoos covering his arms, grey trousers and a black t-shirt. "Are you the Doctor?" The boy asks, and the Doctor just nods his head, not trusting his voice. "I have something for you." The guy reaches an envelope towards the Doctor. The Doctor takes it, and looks down at it. It looks old and it is sealed with wax. He furrows his brow, and looks up. "What is this?" he asks. "I think it's a letter that my great-grandmother wrote a long time ago, but I'm not really sure, no one has ever opened it. It was in her testament, and it said to deliver it here, at exactly this time. I find it a bit weird, but she could be a bit special sometimes." The boy shrugs. "When did she...?" The Doctor doesn't want to say the word die, don't want to think more about it.
"17 years ago." The Doctor can feel his eyes filling with tears again, but blinks them away. "Did you know her?" The boy shrugs. "Not much, I was only 7 when she passed away. I remember that she seemed happy most of the time, but sometimes, when she thought no one was looking, her eyes got very sad. I don't think I was supposed to see it, but I was too nosy for my own good. And she was very good at telling stories; she always told ones about her "Running man" I think she called him. How he saved the Earth and all the humans over again. She loved those stories. Now, are you gonna open it?" The Doctor blinks rapidly. "What?" He asks. The boy rolls his eyes at him, and gestures to the envelope. "Oh, yes, sorry." The Doctor opens the envelope, and looks inside. It is actually a letter inside plus what looks like two old photographs. He takes out the letter, ignores the photographs for now, and starts reading it.
My dear running man,
Oh how I miss you! I wish you were here with me, but I know you can't. And before I forget, "here" is London 1932, January first. I "landed" here in March the 12th 1931, but I haven't been able to write before now. Everything is very different from what I imagined to be, but it is very weird to know what is going to happen. Hopefully I will be able to survive the war, so this letter can find you.
Let me tell you a little about what happened. When the angel sent me back, it sent me to the middle of a forest. I had no idea which way to go to find people, but after walking around aimlessly for a long time, I finally found a farm. And they were really shocked! A girl in pants, all alone, how weird. But they took me in and treated me as their own daughter.
I lived with them until around November, when a guy that had been flirting (?) with me and taken me on dates proposed to me. It was a surreal feeling, but I said yes. We moved to London (I didn't want to, because I know what will I happen. I tried telling him, but he wouldn't believe me.) So now we live here, I can't say that I love it, but I don't hate it either. I think I might love him. I'm happy, but not as happy as I was when we traveled together. What comes next might surprise you. (Or not)
I love you. There, I said it. Sort of. It's weird writing it down and realizing that you won't read it in over 80 years. Very weird.
But I hope you love me back or at least don't cringe at the thought that I love/loved you.
As I said earlier, I miss you.
P.S: Remember to not travel alone, it's not good for you. Pick up the Ponds again or find another companion, just please don't travel alone. Please, do it for me.
There is no signature, but the Doctor doesn't need one. He knows it's you that wrote it. He pulls out the pictures, and looks at them. One is of you, sitting on a fence on what with your face turned towards the camera, smiling. The other is of you and a man sitting next to each other, holding hands. Both are in black and white, so he can't tell much about the man. But he looks handsome and friendly. You seem happy. He turns them around. On the backside of the photograph it says: "June 21st, 1931. Sunny day." in an unfamiliar handwriting. On the other is says: "December 24th, 1931. Christmas day"
The Doctor hears the boy clearing his throat, and looks up. Oh, the he's still there, he had almost forgotten about him. "So what does it say?" The Doctor isn't sure what to say, but ends up with "That she's getting married and is happy. You want to read it?" he offers. The boy shakes it head. "No need. But could I look at the photos?" he asks. The Doctor gives them to him. The boy looks at them a while, before giving them back. "She was really pretty wasn't she?" he says more than asks. "Yes, she was." the Doctor mutter under his breath, low enough so the boy don't hear him. The boy seems a bit unsure to what to do, but eventually turns around to go. But before he can walk far, the Doctor remembers that he didn't even ask for the boys name.
"Wait, what is your name?" The Doctor shouts after him. "Ian." the boy shouts back, keeping on walking away. "Ian, she would have liked that." The Doctor says before sliding back into the TARDIS again. He walks up to the console, and put the envelope on it. "What do you think? Do you think she was happy?" he asks the TARDIS. She hums, like she always, and it calms him. She sounds sad too, He sighs, and starts moving around so he can stop the Weeping Angels, because that's what he needs to do.
When Amy sees the envelope later on, she asks him what it is. He says it's nothing, and tucks it away in his pocket. Afterwards he puts it in one of your favorite books in the library, and puts the book where it stands with its battered and well-read cousins. Every time he passes that shelf in years to come, he pulls out the book, opens it and looks at the letter. Sometimes, the days he misses you the most, he opens it and reads it. Other days, he simply stares at it, and then puts it back on the shelf. Just another memory of a lost companion that he can't bear himself to look at.
