The Rise of Sorrow. by SolarTorch

Summary: The Doctor thinks about Rose and Martha. He loves Rose, but Martha wants him.
Rating: All Ages
Categories: Tenth Doctor
Characters: Martha Jones, Rose Tyler, The Doctor (10th)
Genres: Angst, Het
Warnings: None
Challenges: None
Series: None
Published: 2007.05.30
Updated: 2007.05.30

The Rise of Sorrow. by SolarTorch
Chapter 1: Chapter 1
Author's Notes: I had to write it.

Immortal. No. Nearly immortal, perhaps. But the survival of a body doesn’t always mean the survival of the soul.
All the terrors I have seen amount to nothing compared to the loss of my Rose. My heart. It feels as though my spirit , what made me myself, was pulled out through my chest and shredded, right before my eyes. Though I won’t say it aloud, I loved her. I still love her. I love Rose Tyler.
No other woman, nay, no other person has ever made my hearts beat faster and my stomach flip and time slow down and speed up. No one has ever made me cry like that before.
Martha has never met the real me. Never met the real, raw, content Doctor. The Doctor who can smile without hiding behind a mask. The Doctor who can laugh without having a corner of his soul torn away. The Doctor whose eyes aren’t concealed by shadows.

Martha isn’t Rose. Rose is beautiful and smart and funny. She makes me laugh and cry and want to kiss her and hold her for eternity. Rose was and is still the one I could spend all of my lives with. Rose is Rose. Rose is mine.
Martha is still smart and pretty. She makes me laugh. She doesn’t make me feel. She doesn’t make me want to stay with her forever. I could never want her, never love her. Never be with her.
I don’t mean to insult her, but my heart belongs to Rose. She thinks I don’t notice when her eyes pause on my body for that split second too long, when she laughs too much at my jokes, when she blushes when I enter a room.
Mine and Rose’s relationship may not have been sexual, but it ran far deeper than anything that might ever exist between myself and Martha. Whenever me and Rose kissed, even in the most friendly of manners, the ghost of her would linger on my skin for ever afterwards. The memory of her touch keeps me going, but one day that might not be enough. One day I might have to leave her memory where it belongs. Inside my mind, not constantly forcing it to the surface to protect myself from Martha’s unwanted advances.
My skin crawls at the idea of kissing Martha, of touching her, being intimate with her. My lack of a sexual relationship with Rose spurs on my desire to keep mine and Martha’s friendship just that. Below the surface, I care nothing for Martha.
All I can give her is empty words, hollow touches and miserable smiles. If Martha died in my care I would cry for a day, but when Rose left I began to weep for an eternity. She left me to continue life as an empty shell, doomed to survive until my broken hearts finally fail.

Love is nothing except disappointment and betrayal, a lone sacrifice that can doom a race… and doom a Time Lord.

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