Prologue

Pointed, reaching branches, black in the grey night, scratched at his face and arms. The half moon was melting in the inky sky; stars looked like supernovas, bats like great draping capes of fabric.

A scream echoed through the cold air, surrounding him with sound. There was no where he could turn, no where he could run, that the piercing noise didn't follow. A canon boom echoed around him, shattering the trees like glass, the pieces crunching under his feet. The scream abruptly cut off just as he plummeted over the edge of a cliff.

Dr. James McCrimmon awoke in a sweaty tangle of sheets, chest heaving. A dim grey light seeped in through the curtains, echoing the early hour. It'd been the same dream chasing him for the last two months, from Scotland to London, ever since he alone received the letter inviting him to Nightingale Mental Health Hospital.

Scrubbing his hands over his face, James decided to head for the shower. There would be no more sleep for him, might as well get an early start.

Pressing, heaving, gulping breaths, smothering heat. Rhythmic squeaking drowned out the pained whimpering. It was the same every time, the first time, the second time, the tenth time. Nothing got better.

Rose Tyler awoke with a gasp. Too much caffeine and long hours were causing her nightmare to recur more frequently. This was the third night in a row she'd dreamed of the time she ran away from home, right before her Mum landed in the hospital this last time. It was the only time in her life she was selfish and wanted to be normal and have a normal life. And it cost her dearly.

Stumbling to the shower, Rose let the steamy spray hit her face. She had a few hours to work before she headed to Nightingale Mental Health Hospital and visited her Mum and met with the new psychiatrist who would be taking over her care.