A/N This has been moved on request from being a second story to a second chapter. There won't be anymore chapters after this one. Read it as though its a seperate piece that follows on rather than the next chapter in the story, because it doesn't really work like a second chapter.

This is for all you lovely reviewers who asked for a sequel to 'Anything might happen', however many moons ago that may have been. I hope it lives up to expectations. Enjoy.

Coward

"You see the thing is Doctor," spat with scorn, "she wants me."

"I'm not listening to you," the Doctor whispered back as he pulled a lever, maybe a little too hard. The TARDIS groaned in protest. His eyes darted everywhere except the reflection in the console.

"But you know. You remember."

The Doctor ran around to the other side but even as his eyes ghosted over the panels he caught sight of the face sneering back that wasn't his own. It was elated. It was smug.

"You remember how she felt. How she tasted. It drives you crazy…"

"SHUT UP!" Fists slammed but the face still stared back from the black metal surface, eyes glinting, unhurt. The Doctor's hands throbbed. He screwed his eyes shut, breathing hard, but the voice was right. Even as he shut his eyes he could see her standing there, his defiant Amy, completely under his control, wanting him…no…not him…

His eyes snapped open and he strode to the other side of the TARDIS. The voice echoed after him.

"And she still chose Rory. Boring, normal Rory – because she wanted him rather than you. She could never have you." There was a pause and a hint of smugness crept into the tone as the Doctor dug the pile of odds and ends in the corner. "She could have me. She wanted to have me. She chose me over Rory. So where does that leave you?"

The Doctor grabbed the desired item and proceeded to march with it back across the room.

"Oh now Doctor. Tut, tut, tut. You know that won't help."

"We'll see," came the muttered reply as the thick, heavy blanket was tossed over the panels.

"It won't help for a very simple reason…" the muffled, barely audible voice called out, but the Doctor was already out the room, down the corridor and into his bedroom. The loud, hissed voice down his ear made him jump.

"Because I'm in your head."

The Doctor sank onto his bed and stared in exasperation at his mirror, almost resignation in his eyes. The Dream Lord stared back from the same position.

"What – do – you – want?" the Doctor said slowly, dangerously, patience running low.

"I want the same thing you want Doctor," the Dream Lord smirked and flourished his hands. "It would be so easy."

"No." Sharp. Non-negotiable. Eyes burned like fire into the mirror. Where multiple species across galaxies trembled at that look the Dream Lord merely leaned forward conspiratorially with a sneer on his face.

"Coward."

There was a laden silence as the Doctor dropped his gaze to fixate on the carpet. Despite the apparent victory that was occurring the image in the mirror faded, drained of colour, faltered in existence. This difference challenged him, threatened him, because for all he was the darkness he could not fight the light. The Doctor sat up straighter, a sad, faraway look in his eyes and this time the Dream Lord's face wavered in its confidence and he shrank back.

"Well yes," the Doctor smiled slowly, "and no."

Sharp eyes turned on the reflection in the mirror but only the Doctor's normal reflection stared back.

He remembered. He always remembered. He would remember the kiss, how it felt, but he would more importantly remember the look, the rejection, the fear as she backed away from his darkness. It was a good reminder. It was how it should be.