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Disclaimer: All rights to BBC

"DOCTOR!" The scream leaves my throat raw, terror making my voice shrill. My palms are sweaty, making it hard to hold on the lever as the wind sucks greedily at my body, plastering my clothes to my skin and whipping my blonde hair in a million directions.

A few feet away, the Doctor stands in the middle of the room. His hands are in his pockets, and not even his hair moves in the wind. It's like he's in his own protected bubble, where nothing affects him- not the wind or my fear of being sucked into the void. There should be daleks and cybermen flying past, but there aren't. It's just me and him, alone, isolated, falling apart piece by piece. It's horrible. He's just sitting there, watching me with a smirk that's so unlike his crazy, excited grin and why won't he help me and I can't stand it and-

"Oh, Rose. If only you'd gone back to Pete's world, like a good girl. And after the Beast's warning! Really, one would think you'd have been more careful."

The words hit me like a ton of bricks, and in a moment of pain and shock and heartbreak my grip loosens. That moment is all the void needs to win its battle. In a blur of white I'm airborne, hurtling toward the void. I feel like I'm in a free fall drop on a roller coaster, my stomach in my throat and a scream lost in the wind. My heart's racing out of control and all I can see is that smirk, that horrible, awful smirk-

And I know that this wall won't be what kills me, not really. Losing him, after all I'd been through, after how hard I'd fought- that will be what kills me.

The wall approaches fast. I'm only three feet away, then two. And then-

"DOCTOR!" I sat bolt upright, my chest heaving and sweaty sheets tangled around my legs. It took me a moment to realize that it had all just been a nightmare. Again.

Around me, the TARDIS hummed in motherly sympathy.

"Thanks, girl," I muttered, detangling myself and clambering unsteadily to my feet. "I'm okay." I wasn't, not really, but I would be, and that was all that mattered. Sort of.

On my bedside table, little red numbers told me the time was 1:00 AM. Too early to go find the Doctor and distract myself with a good adrenaline-pumped adventure, then. Time is relevant in the TARDIS, of course, but the Doctor would notice if I appeared sooner than my custom eight hours. I still wasn't used to sleeping less.

So, instead of finding said Time Lord, I went to my bathroom to splash some cold water on my face and (hopefully) calm down my still racing heart. 'Hearts', I thought pointedly. Flipping on the light switch in my bathroom, I stumbled across the room, the sudden light blinding me and the tile cold against the bottoms of my feet.

I managed to find the sink and turned the water as cold as it could go, shakily splashing the water across my pale face. Water went everywhere, hitting my face and getting on the counter top, too. The water pooled and dripped steadily off the lip of the counter with a pattering drip-drip-drip, while I stared at my reflection in the mirror.

The girl in the mirror was both familiar and a stranger. She had my face, my eyes, my jaw, and my nose. The hair was the right length; the eyebrows were shaped the same. And yet she couldn't be me. Surely I didn't have such a pale face, or such bloodshot eyes. And I wasn't a ginger.

Well. I didn't use to be. I used to be a bottle blonde. 'Course, I also used to be human. Not anymore, though. Not since Canary Warf.

I should probably backtrack a bit, and explain what happened properly.

My parents and Mickey had gone to Pete's world. I had come back, just like in my nightmare. I did end up hanging for my life by a lever, sweaty hands slipping on slick metal as our enemies hurtled past us. But…

… the Doctor hadn't been heartless. He'd been distraught, yelling for me to hang on as he clung to his clamp, the wind whipping his coat into the air behind him. I had fallen- funny thing is, when I hit the wall in my dream I always woke up. Guess it's that whole 'can't die in your dreams' thing, 'coz in real life I did die. I fell, and the void closed a split second before I got there, so I hit that white wall hard.

More importantly, I hit my head against that white wall hard. And there are some blows to the head that you just can't survive. So, yeah. I died. It hurt- a lot- but the pain didn't actually come from my injury. I found out later it came from my body, every cell regrouping, splitting apart and threading back together.

I died, and then I regenerated. Not much changed, thankfully, except my hair color. Regardless to say, I was weak and confused and the Doctor was… well, stunned. Neither of us had seen that coming. Naturally, the first thing he'd said had been:

"Oh, that's not fair! Ginger on your first go!"

Figures, huh? I don't remember much after that; I'd passed out, not from shock, but exhaustion. Dying and coming back takes a lot outta you. The Doctor took me back to the TARDIS and had barely spoken to me directly since. He'd been acting so odd, it was starting to scare me. One second, I'd find him looking at me like he was just glad I was there. The next, he was talking to himself under his breath, sending me confused, hurt looks like I'd done something wrong.

I don't think he knew what to make of new me, either. Looking in the mirror, I could see why. So similar, but so different. I remembered all too well how I'd felt when he'd regenerated at the Game Station, so I gave him his space. I didn't tell him about my new double heartbeat or low body temperature (although I suspected he already knew). My nightmares remained a secret that only I and the TARDIS knew, and so far I'd been lucky enough that he hadn't heard me scream. Most of all, I didn't tell him how scared I was. It's a terrifying thing to have your body turn on you and change while you remain ignorant to what's going on. I was worried sick. Glad to be alive, but what would the cost be?

In the mirror, my reflection offered no suggestions. Sighing, I turned away from the glass, leaning against the counter and ignoring the water that soaked the back of my shirt. The Doctor would figure out what had happened. He had to.

Then I could only pray that whatever had happened, he'd accept the new me. I hadn't come this far to lose him now.

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-tiger-girl-3000 and Qwerty616120