A/N: I do not own Doctor Who or its characters. This idea came to me after watching the episode Listen. Some of the episode will appear in this story, but with changes to fit my story. Please enjoy.

Listen for the bad wolf

Prologue

-"Doctor, please." Rose sobbed as big fat tears streaked down her cheeks. "Am I ever going to see you again?"

The Doctor cringed but steeled himself, he couldn't help her. She had barely made it to the alternate universe ... He couldn't risk finding a way to get to her, he wouldn't do that to her. Rose's safety was more important. The gap between the words was just about closed as well; he had to leave her where she was.

-"I'm sorry." He frowned at his lame words. For the first time in a very long time, he did not know what to say, he couldn't seem to put into words what he felt. What he did know was that he was losing the one woman who had fixed him ... he was who he was today because of her love and compassion. He had been so angry when he had met Rose, so full of anger and resentment ... and she had fixed him. "You can't." He heard himself say.

-"What are you going to do?" Rose tried her best to hold back the tears but it was as if someone had turned on a faucet, there was no stopping them.

-"Oh, I've got the TARDIS." He replied as nonchalantly as he could muster out. "Y'know, same old life, last of the Time Lords."

Another heart wrenching sob escaped from Rose.

-"On your own ..." Her tone was desperate. "I – I love you!" She cried.

The Doctor felt a tight squeeze around both his hearts. He tried hard to ignore it but he couldn't, not anymore. Why did this keep happening to him? Why did he have to lose everything that he loved? Everything that meant something to him?

-"Quite right, too." He quickly said immediately hating his reply. He tried to make light of the situation, anything to make Rose stop crying. He couldn't bear the thought of her hurting anymore then she already was. But he was doing it; he was hurting her by not telling her the words she so desperately wanted to hear. "And I suppose, of its one last chance to say it, Rose Tyler ..."

The communication abruptly ended and the Doctor was left alone ... with the words that should have been spoken but will now never be said.

oOo

The Doctor sat up in his bed as if a bolt of lightning had hit him. Breathing hard and covered in sweat he quickly got his bearings. He was in his room ... and Rose had been gone for over a thousand years, so why was this memory plaguing his sleep? He swung his feet to the side of the bed and set his bare toes firmly in the cool wooden floor. He vigorously rubbed his face, trying to wipe away the images he had buried very long ago.

-"Why can't you just let me sleep?" He grumbled feeling quite irritable. This was the first night of sleep her had attempted in almost a week, he felt he had every right to be cranky.

It was beyond him why this was happening. He had put all those emotions behind him. He was not that same blubbering idiot that would cry like a child that just lost its bauble. There was no time to dwell and wallow in the lost things of the past. He was a man that had made mistakes and he was on the path to fixing them, at whatever the cost.

Although lately he had been questioning if this really was the right way to go about it. Clara had told him he was cold and even insensitive at times, but she could not understand, no one did. He couldn't let himself sink back down the path of lost and sadness. Those emotions had dictated his actions for far too long and it had caused many of the problems he had now.

Was that why Rose was haunting his mind now? Was it his subconscious telling him he was reverting back to who he was all those years ago after he destroyed Gallifrey? It was a ridiculous thought; the Time Lords were not gone, not anymore. Gallifrey was in fact somewhere out there.

He had no reason to feel guilty anymore.

Maybe dreaming of Rose was a way his mind was communicating to tell him he had somehow wronged her, but that idea was just as preposterous. He had given her what she wanted when he left her a second time in the alternate universe. He felt he had done the best that he could ... Had it not been enough?

No, there had to be a logical explanation for all this.

He had been having the same dream for the last two months. Every single night for the first two weeks, but after that fortnight the Doctor started skipping some nights of sleep. He thought if he could keep busy enough he would eventually get so exhausted that he would be too tired to dream. But like clockwork, when his eyes would shut, Rose would make her appearance.

The Doctor eventually started avoiding sleep all-together, but that was having dire consequences ... he was now starting to see Rose during his waking hours. It was never for long, only for a brief fleeting moment and even then, he was never quite sure it had been her, or anyone at all for that matter. But he was often left with that funny feeling people had, right at the back of his neck when someone was watching you, but when he would turn around, the room would be empty. At times a strange lingering scent of perfume he had not smelled in centuries would be the only clue that someone had been there.

The Doctor stood and found his way to his closet to change and after a quick glance at his watch which informed him he had been sleeping for a whole hour, he knew he had to do something or learn to forgo sleep all-together for the rest of his days. Either way, he couldn't take much more of this.

With that he rushed to the TARDIS console room. He had work to do.

oOo

The Doctor buried himself in this latest research. He took several trips through time and space. He dug out all the books he could think of, along with old journals and whatever else the TARDIS had tucked away and felt like sharing with him. Hours eventually blended into days which turned into weeks. The Doctor was obsessed. Time eventually lost much of its meaning. All that did matter was getting his answers and today was his lucky day, he had finally found something.

It was a long shot, but a chance hit was better then what he had started with. Nothing. The Doctor had found something while reading an old book he had been given as a gift. At the time he thought it was a ridiculous thing to give a time traveler. The Great Book of Evolution. Why would someone like him need a book like that when he could simply go to the time period and watch evolution happen in front of his eyes?

He had buried the book long ago and had not seen it since. That is until he had been searching for a particular room in the TARDIS. He could have sworn he had a sun room at one point; he had the urge to relax somewhere he knew Rose had never been. A location that would have no memories of her. During his search for the room, he had instead discovered the book, right there in the middle of the hallway, as if someone had just forgotten it. Now, he was glad he had found it, because it had the questions that he should have been asking.

-"Why do we talk out loud when we know we're alone?" The Doctor looked around the console room as if he was waiting for someone to answer, but only silence greeted him so he answered his own question. "Conjecture. Because we know we're not."

He walked to an old blackboard he had been using for calculation a few hours ago. He erased all the computations he had done when he had tried to figure out why he was seeing Rose from a mathematical standpoint. He began to scribble on the board with the hopes that seeing the words with his own eyes would somehow make him feel a little less mad.

-"Evolution perfects survival skills." He wrote down the word hunting in a neat print. "There are perfect hunters."

The Doctor thought back on the research he had done over the last few days, or had it been weeks? He had visited several places and observed some of the best hunters in the universe do what they did best. He knew for a fact that evolution had perfected the art of being a hunter. Keeping his eyes on the chalkboard he jotted down a second point.

-"There is perfect defense."

If a hunter had gotten better at its craft, then of course the hunters prey would have perfected their defenses. It was the laws of nature adapt or die. He had seen it ... he had caused it. The Doctor stared at the blackboard until the letters started to blur together. Hunter and prey, they all evolved. Whether it was the way the lions hunted together or how certain specifies of animals were poisonous to the touch as a way to keep to be eaten. All these creatures had changed, adapted and evolved to adapt to their environment.

This all made such perfect sense, why had he never considered this before? It had been staring him in the face for so long...

-"Question." He suddenly spoke out loud again. "Why is there no such thing as perfect hiding?" He quickly wrote down the word hiding with a question mark next to it. "Answer. How would you know?" Slowly, he walked away from his chalkboard. "Logically, if evolution were to perfect a creature whose primary skill were to hide from view, how could you know it existed?"

The Doctor strolled on the catwalk of the TARDIS to where he had left several books for his research, one in particular which laid opened to a page ... a special page that had got him thinking on the what-ifs. He set his piece of chalk down in the open book.

-"It could be with us every second and we would never know. How would you detect it, even sense it, except in those moments when, for no clear reason you choose to speak aloud?" The Doctor turned towards the edge of the catwalk that overlooked the TARDIS controls. He grabbed hold of the railing and let his tired eyes roam his time machine. "What would such a creature want? What would it do?" He paused for a moment waiting, hoping for an answer. "Well? What would you do?" He leaned slightly over the railing as he yelled his last words which echoed back to him.

The Doctor let out a small chuckle at his own silliness. Was he really talking to no one? Of course no one was here, that would have been ridiculous, right? Who was going to reply to him? Rose?

Deciding he needed to take a break before he really did go a bit madder then he already was, the Doctor turned around to put his books away and go drop in on Clara. She would talk some sense into him, but as he turned a piece of chalk came rolling to his feet.

The Doctor quickly picked it up, slightly perplexed. What was the chalk was doing on the ground?

As he straightened back up his eyes landed on the book. The opened book he had set his piece of chalk in was now empty. It had somehow rolled off the book, fallen off the table without making a sound or breaking and then rolled to his feet. That seemed pretty bloody unlikely.

Frowning the Doctor turned towards his chalkboard. With a gasp he dropped the chalk to the ground, causing it to shatter into several pieces. With caution he closed the gap between him and his blackboard. He stared at it as his both his hearts slammed hard against his rib cage.

All his theory and writings were gone; it had all been erased and replaced with three simple words that left him speechless.

Listen. Bad Wolf.


A/N: One quick last note. This story although was inspired by the episode Listen, it also came about while I was building a new video. If you would like to see this video trailer just click on my profile, the link for the trailer is located at the top. Thank you :)