He wakes up on the bathroom floor, to his left a small pool of blood. He isn't sure why but the hallucinations are getting worse. Somewhere along the way, he lost the t-shirt and is lying, almost naked on the tiled floor. He gets up slowly, feeling his joints creak. He stretches his arms, and nearly cries out in pain. Looking down at them for the first time, he is shocked at what he sees.

Cuts of all lengths, all depths strewn up and down his forearms, covered in dry blood. Barely starting to scab over. Furiously he bolts to the sink, sticking his arm under the cold tap. It stings, but he doesn't move.

That's the moment when he decides it has to stop. That is needs to stop. He can't just carry on like this, constantly bandaging himself up, pretending it never happened. His arms are torn in shreds, and it scares him how much he likes it.

The medicine cabinet swings open on his own, a fresh pack of bandages sitting on the top shelf. He sends a silent thanks to the TARDIS. He must have shut her out… again. He needs to stop doing this. She sends him rays of warmth and love, and he feels bad for letting her see him like this.

oOo

Martha's worried about The Doctor. They haven't been together that long, but it isn't difficult to see he's hurting, real bad. Something about a girl named Rose Tyler, and how they were 'together' whatever that means. He never says, and well, she's too scared to ask. On the surface, he's warm and giving, skipping with her through alien worlds and it's like nothing she's ever done before. She's having the time of her life, that's for sure. But he isn't.

It's always the same when they get back to the TARDIS. If it's been a victory, he'll smile a little, ask her where she wants to go next. She'll say somewhere random, and he'll mouth off one hundred miles an hour at how much rest she's gonna need and what clothes to wear. And then she leaves the console room.

For the first few weeks, that was it. She left the console room feeling elated, like nothing could ever go wrong.

But then one day, she heard him crying.

She crept back, kicking her trainers off as not to make a sound, and there he was, head hung low, sobbing as he leant against the railings.

Since then, she always hangs back and watches him when he leaves.

She never interferes, because she knows he'll snap, and he'll get annoyed if he knows she's seen him with his defences down, but she can't help the scientific curiosity within her. She craves every single detail about Rose, and listens as intently as she can if he ever says anything, but still, she has no picture of what she looks like. She makes an imaginary Rose in her head, what she could appear as.

She's tall. Not as tall as The Doctor, but fairly tall. Skinny to, probably. Long brunette hair, down to her back, big blue eyes. She's probably smart too. Martha knows she's human, but she's probably got a lot of alien knowledge to. She's a little older than Martha, perhaps twenty four, or five.

Still, Martha doesn't dare ask, because she can see the pain that goes through his eyes whenever he mentions her name.

OOo

They met Jack today. Captain Jack Harkness, massive flirt. Life saver with the vortex manipulator and all. Their stuck, in London and well, Martha's had the worst day of her life. The end of the universe, professor YANA, the master, the TARDIS, it's enough to make your head spin.

Still, she finds a little more out about Rose.

Jack knew her as well, and Martha can see the little hurt behind his eyes when he mentions her name for the first time. Something about her name on the list of the dead. Martha feels anxious, she had always thought that perhaps Rose had died, and that's why she didn't like to mention her to often. But then The Doctor lights up the most she's ever seen him, saying she's alive.

Something about a parallel universe.

And she isn't brunette. She's blonde.

Of course she's a blonde.

They sit under a flyover in London at night, camped around some kind of makeshift hobo fire, one laptop and a few bags of chips between them. And that's where it all starts, the chips. The conversation drifts from Harold Saxon to her. Rose Tyler.

The Doctor tugs at the sleeve of his jacket when Jack mentions her. Martha isn't sure why, but obviously he's hiding something under his sleeve. She's not sure if she even wants to know what it is.

Jack's so animated when he speaks of Rose, grinning and laughing. Apparently he didn't know she was still alive. Martha feels a little left out of the conversation, but still listens intently. She's not got much of a description in her head, but there are little snippets.

She's blonde, but they had already established that.

She was nineteen when she met The Doctor. Twenty when she left. Which is a lot younger than Martha was expecting. Younger than her.

Also, she grew up on an estate.

Then, surprising her, the doctor pulls a photo out of his jacket, and Martha almost chokes on a particular greasy chip.

Rose is not tall, and slim and agile.

Rose Tyler is quite short, maybe five four, five five? And her hair isn't blonde, not really. It's an obvious bleach job, roots bleeding through, sitting in a side ponytail at shoulder length.

She isn't slim either. Sure, she's not fat persae, but she's got curves. Her eyes are dark brown, her smile maybe a little too wide. She's wearing baggy jeans and a tight vest top in an alarming shade of yellow, with a denim jacket.

She isn't particularly pretty. She isn't particularly stylish.

But The Doctor's looking at her, even through a photo, like she's the most beautiful woman he's ever seen. And that hurts Martha, more than it should.

Especially when he brings out the perception filters.

"Oh, I'll tell you what it's like," he says "It's like, when you fancy someone, and they don't even know you exist!"

And that cuts Martha. Deep.

Jack gives her a sympathetic look, asking "You too?"

She doesn't reply. Apparently, she could never compete with Rose Tyler.

oOo

The Doctor sits alone in the TARDIS. Martha's left him, as she should, really. He never treated her fairly to begin with. And he feels guilty for it, but there was no time to explain.

Jack's gone too, off to torchwood. Of to make the world a better place, and he's proud, he really is. But he's also so very lonely.

Same old life, last of the timelord's. on his own.

Because she can't hold his hand anymore.

And maybe, just maybe, that's okay now. She isn't coming back, he knows that of course. But the scars on his arms have faded, and she's fading too. Everything fades, just like when he faded from view on the beach.

He still loves her, there's no doubt about it.

But sometimes, when you love someone you have to let go.

He hopes that she's happy, he really does. Because he's never going to forget her, not as long as he lives.

But that doesn't mean he can't be happy too, on his own.

OoO

EPILOUGE

Seeing her again, for the final time, was hard for him. That moment when he caught first glimpse of her, and they were running through the street. Of course, the Dalek had to ruin it, but it had all worked out.

He got to feel her stand next to him, lock his hand into her own.

Hear her voice, her beautiful voice… lulling him into serenity.

He takes her back to Bad Wolf bay for her own good, really. The clone needs someone. Everyone needs someone.

And he doesn't do it because he doesn't love her anymore. He does it because he does. More than anything he loves that girl. And more than anything he wants he to be happy. And that's enough to make him happy.

So perhaps it seems harsh when he leaves her on the beach without a final goodbye. It hurts him of course, tearing his hearts in two. But he knows they'll mend again. He takes Donna home, and that's hard for him. Donna Noble, his best mate in the world. Well, not any more.

But at least he knows, that no matter how low he feels, or how bad it gets… he'll never pick up another blade. He can't.

Because he knows they're all happy. And that makes him light up inside.

It's a little light, shining its way through the darkness inside him. But that light, its fighting its way through. It can't stay dark forever. Not really.

And that's the final stage, he realises. Acceptance.

The five stages of grief, a vicious time… but now it's come to its close. It's okay that she's gone, because she's happy.

And that is just brilliant.

The End. Short, I know, but I had to wrap this up. Left it alone too long. Check out my new fics, The Boy With The Bright Blue Eyes, it's a supernatural Destiel fic so if that's your thing, yeah. also my 50th anniversary fix-it fic with 11xrose shipping, You Feel Like Home. xxx