Don't own Doctor Who.

Just a short one-shot set during Human Nature and after The Family of Blood to show Martha and the Doctor's feelings at seeing the picture of Rose in a Journal of Impossible Things.

In Dreams and Drawings

Martha had a bad feeling.

The Doctor had not told her what to do should he start to fall for someone whilst he was human.

And now…oh now, he was showing his lady friend his journal, a Journal of Impossible Things.

Martha watched warily, wondering what she was supposed to do. She watched as Joan flicked through the drawings of Gas Mask Monsters, Daleks, Clockwork Monsters and various other aliens and creatures.

And then-

There she was; the one person the Doctor could never ever see again and of course she was the one he dreamt of, even when he was human, even when it was Martha keeping him safe.

"Quite an eye for the pretty girls," Joan said with a smile.

"Oh no, no. She's just an invention. This character. Rose, I call her. Rose. She seems to disappear later on."

Martha tried to ignore the way his voice changed as he said the last sentence, how quickly he said the words, how he turned the page as his face turned serious, the Doctor's I-don't-want-to-talk-about-it expression.

The same one he pulled whenever Martha mentioned Rose to him.

He knows, Martha thought, her mouth open in disbelief. He knows he loves her.

Then she realised what he had written around Rose's picture.

She keeps walking away. I keep seeing her in my dreams. I know her well. I see her in my dreams.

Despite the envy she felt, her heart broke for them, the lovers who couldn't be together, who could rely only on thoughts and memories, dreams and drawings.

Later, after they had visited an older Tim, Martha glanced over at the Doctor, wondering whether she dared bring it up.

"So where shall we go? Somewhere exotic, somewhere in the past, future or present?" the Doctor asked before launching into a ramble about presents.

Martha half-listened to him, her mind torn.

"Martha?"

"You drew Rose," she blurted out, wishing immediately that she could take the words back as she saw the Doctor's face shut down, all emotion gone.

"I had dreams of my real life, that's all," he said flatly.

"You said that she seemed to disappear later on. You knew something, I could tell by your face," she said in a small voice.

"I dreamt that-"

"She was walking away. I saw."

The Doctor looked down and took a deep, shuddering breath.

"When Joan said she was pretty, I didn't know what to say. John Smith liked Joan, wanted to take her attention away from the girl in the drawing, said what he said. But I was the one who turned the page because…well I didn't want to talk about Rose to her because if I did…any feelings I had towards her would have seemed tiny compared to how I feel for Rose," the Doctor said in a rush.

Martha nodded numbly, her heart pounding. It hurt that he was saying this to her, that the first person he had ever admitted his love for Rose to was her, the human girl who loved him too.

"Maybe one day," she heard herself murmur.

"I can never see her again," the Doctor said hotly, his hands balling into fists on the console.

"Never say never ever," Martha said lightly, not realising the impact her words would have on him.

The Doctor stared at her, his gaze so intense she had to look away.

"You're right," he said in a low voice.

"You see her in your dreams?" Martha asked gently, hating herself for continuing to question him when all she wanted to do was run, forget everything about Rose and her love.

"All the time," he said quietly. "She's so…vital to everything that is me; I died for her, the first thing I saw with these eyes was her, she made me better. She made me better," he repeated softly. "I should have known she would have bled through to my human dreams."

Again Martha nodded before saying lamely, "I'm going to go…go."

"Yeah, alright."

Martha left the console room, swallowing hard to stop herself from crying.

Left alone, the Doctor bent his head, his eyes closed tight.

"Rose," he whispered before laughing bitterly. "The one time I'm human and you're not here. Rose."

The TARDIS' consciousness brushed against his mind, comforting his tortured soul.

Dream of her, keep her alive. Remember her, dream of her. Love her in your dreams, keep her from walking away.

The Doctor stood up straight, his jaw tense.

The universe could separate them, lock her in one and him in another, but they had no right to keep her from his mind. He would dream of her and they would run, run so far and so fast the universe wouldn't have the chance to pull them apart.

But she wouldn't walk away. She would not disappear.

In his dreams, things could be as they should be. He needed Rose Tyler. And until he could find some way to return to her, he would dream of her.

Because he was sure of that. One day, even if it took forever, he would find a way to her and then he would tell her three words.

Well. Maybe five.

A memory came to him.

"Here you are. Living a life day after day. The one adventure I can never have."

How he wanted to have that adventure, live day after day with her.

"Am I ever going to see you again?"

How he wanted to reach out and touch her, hug her, hold her safe against him, her heartbeat comforting him, reminding him she was there.

"You can't."

His hearts were breaking, wishing that it wasn't true.

"What are you going to do?"

I don't know.

"I've got the TARDIS, same old life; last of the Time Lords."

"On your own?"

Without you. On my own, without you.

"I l…I love you."

Say it.

"Quite right, too."

Say it.

"And I suppose…if it's my last chance to say it…Rose Tyler-"

"I love you," he whispered to the air. "Rose Tyler, I love you."

Quite right, too, her voice whispered, and he could hear the smile in it.

He wondered if he was dreaming and found that he didn't care.

She was there. That was all that mattered.

Whether it was a dream or not, she was with him. And if the only place they could be together was in his dreams then so be it.

That would do for now.

After all, he thought to himself, never say never ever.