Author's Notes:

This chapter was supposed to be long - and I suppose it is - but I've decided to break it into halves for the sake of my sanity. It is very important for Rose and Fred, and I don't want to rush it for their sakes. In addition, I want you all to know that I'm still writing this story.. the holidays are crazy! Hopefully I'll get more time soon. Meanwhile, please enjoy this chapter. P.S.-I've decided to italicize Rose's inner monologue. What do you think?

Chapter 3: Who's Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf?

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Tyger, tyger, burning bright
In the forest of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could Frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare seize the fire?

- from "The Tyger," by William Blake

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The TARDIS tilted crazily back and forth on its axis, spinning haphazardly on a stochastic path through space and time. The Doctor struggled to keep her course in check, the edges of his fingers turning white as he held fast to a blue lever. A great shudder went through the entire cabin, and the Doctor's legs launched themselves away from the grated floor to kick against the turquoise core, sparks flying at the point of contact.

"Free fall?" he spluttered. "But that's impossible!"

Fishing into his pockets from the upside-down vantage point, he pushed thick-rimmed spectacles onto his face. The Doctor grabbed hold of the console monitor and yanked himself down to make sense of his surroundings. He squinted at the screen, frowned in utter bewilderment. One of his hands flickered in and out of existence, but he took no notice in his state of concentration. The monitor depicted a scene as black as death. His suit flickered from brown to blue to brown to black leather to brown again. Meanwhile, the Doctor muttered inaudibly to himself as a tiny speck of gold came to life on the display. It began to grow, pixel by pixel, expanding slowly but steadily.

The Doctor's hands flew away from the monitor as if burned, and he pushed off from the TARDIS core to land in front of the door. He cracked it open, peered through the small opening to behold a universe gone mad.

The stars were absent, no planets or nebulae in sight - only the tiny speck of gold growing closer and closer. Slamming the door shut, the Doctor turned and began to make his way back toward the control panel.

Outside, the distant light continued to grow, warbling in shape as though a thing alive. The structure was roughly rectangular, left and right sides extended to points. Growing ever closer, the bottom half became focused enough to be classified as a set of four legs. Whatever it was, the creature was running like wildfire, tail streaming behind in a howling wind that couldn't exist within the vacuum of space. Its head lunged forward with each stride, the only visible eye shining a bright golden yellow.

The TARDIS was nearly on level with it, close enough to hear a low, savage growl emanating from the beast. The entire scenario was impossible - it moved with frightening speed, yet the TARDIS was holding still. Or were they moving at the same speed toward a common destination? How had it managed to approach while remaining sideways, running in a seemingly different direction?

All questions faded as it turned to face the ship. Both eyes radiated golden flame, its translucent body laced through with filigree veins of gold. A nebulaic fog swirled around its mouth as it exhaled, steadily releasing a dazzling cloud of twinkling luminescent mist. Starlight pulsed within the ephemeral frame only to be shed from its fur, then carried away on a howling celestial gale. As it came within mere yards of the TARDIS doors, the diaphanous form tilted its head back, and suddenly it became evident that the howl of the wind had emanated from the beast's lungs. The wolf's lungs. The Bad Wolf-

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Rose bolted upright, sweat beading her forehead as she gasped for air. Her heart tried to beat its way out of her chest, and she raised a hand to her sodden t-shirt, gripping the fabric with shaking fingers. Blinking away residual images of her unearthly dream, Rose took in her surroundings - a fire had been lit on the hearth. It had been a very tiring day, and she wasn't terribly surprised that she'd passed out like that in the cab. Someone must have carried her to the big, bulky sofa in the sitting room. A blanket lay pooled around her legs. Scrubbing at her eyes, Rose turned, only to startle herself all over again.

Fred looked decidedly uncomfortable in the antique leather armchair, head leaning awkwardly against a small pillow that he had propped between his face and the frame of the chair. His eyes were closed, stockinged feet propped up on the coffee table, long legs spanning the gap between.

Rose got to her feet and padded over to the chair, as close as she dared without any risk of waking him up. A small muscle moved within his jaw line, fingers tensing and untensing where they lay across his wiry frame. This, too, was different. Her own Doctor had rarely slept, and only like a baby whenever he felt the need. Rose could still recall the sight of him, utterly relaxed as his consciousness drifted in whatever dreams came to dozing Time Lords. It made such a striking contrast to his usual manic state that she had taken special note of it, memorizing the softness of his features and the slow, deep rhythm of his breath.

Rose suddenly realized that her hand was still clutching the hem of her sweaty t-shirt, and tip-toed off to her old room with a mind of changing into a clean shirt. She made a mental note to bring her old clothing to her own flat - Rose hated admitting, even to herself, that she'd intentionally left them behind to avoid painful memories. She found a soft grey sweatshirt in the top drawer of her tiny wooden dresser, and hastily made the switch. Blessedly dry cotton brushed gently against her skin as she pushed her arms through the sleeves. Running a brush through her hair to tame a few knots, Rose studied her reflection in the small, round mirror above her dresser.

Much had changed about her since she had last worn this top, both physically and emotionally. She had lost a good deal of weight, mainly due to a long period wherein food had held no interest to her. She had become hardened in her newfound knowledge of the enduring pain that came with an intimate loss. Rose replaced the brush in its cradle atop her dresser, eyes lighting on tiny framed photograph of her Mum, Mickey, the Doctor and herself. It was from the Christmas party, just after the Doctor had ended Harriet Jones' political career. Though she thought it rash of him at the time, Rose grew to understand that his judgment had been sound. She had learned - the hard way - that with experience came wisdom.

Her vision lingered on herself and the Doctor, his arm thrown around her shoulders as all four grinned cheekily at the camera. Rose gently reminded herself that some things were worth the pain of their loss. The corners of her mouth quirked into a small smile, remaining in place as she padded into the room where she and the Doctor - no, she and Fred - were to sleep for the night.

Fred dropped his feet from the coffee table, stood and turned to face Rose as she entered the room, wincing slightly as his neck rotated. The right side of his hair was matted down from the pillow, the rest of it flying in a million different types of cowlick. He smiled crookedly as she came to stand in front of him, firelight flickering across his cheekbones.

"You look like something the cat dragged in," teased Rose. Fred immediately spun on his heel and started to scan the room, eyes moving rapidly.

"Cat? No one warned me," Fred said warily, voice taking on a slight note of panic as he turned to face her. "Really, Rose? A cat? After the homicidal feline nurses of New New York? You ought to know they can't be trusted!"

Rose had been struggling to keep her face smooth during his brief tirade, and as a result her mouth was quivering, lips pressed tightly together. Fred frowned and leaned toward her, laying a hand on her forehead. "Are you alright? You look as though you're... well, constipated or something," he finished.

Laughter burst from between her lips before they had time to open properly, and the resulting sound was that of a loud farting noise followed by an outright guffaw. Rose bent over, arms pressed to her belly as she tried to contain her hysteria.

"What?" Fred asked in a tone that indicated sincere confusion at the state of affairs. Rose looked up at him, stopped laughing enough to say, "You're such- such a-hahaaa," and lapsed into another fit of laughter, tears beginning to run from her eyes as she reached an arm out to Fred's shoulder, struggled to remain upright. He grasped her elbows to keep her from falling.

"What's got into you?" he asked. Rose pointed a finger at him, gasping for breath. "Oi!" he exclaimed, "You're laughing at me?" She nodded, leaning over as the giggles overtook her once again.

"I see nothing funny about it," Fred chided in a lecturing tone. "Cats using humans for disease-control experiments - though I suppose there is a certain karma there - but it certainly isn't ample excuse-"

Rose cut him off. "Not that, you idiot," she explained, shaking her head and wiping at her cheeks. "I forgot how oblivious you can be."

Fred let go of her elbows and she stumbled forward, grasping at the mantle to check her balance. "I may be many things, Rose Tyler, but oblivious is not one of them," he said solemnly, folding his arms across his chest. Rose scrubbed again at her eyes, breathing through her nose in an attempt to control her exhaustion-induced hysterics.

"Well?" Fred prodded. "Out with it." Hands on hips, he looked at her as a parent would toward an ill-behaved child. Rose peered up at him in confusion, then seemed to realize that he still hadn't understood. She pointed in the direction of his forehead. "Your hair. Looks like a rat's nest," she said, spacing the words out for emphasis.

Fred reached up to feel the untidy mess, turning on a heel to check his reflection above the mantel. His eyebrows rose and he puffed up his cheeks, slowly letting the air out as he ran fingers through his hair. He left it to stand out in even crazier directions, addressing Rose's reflection in the mirror: "Has a life of its own. And not even a hint of ginger from Donna! Some things aren't meant to be, I suppose," he grumbled.

Fred turned again to face Rose and pointed a finger at her. "That wasn't very polite of you," he admonished.

"When have I been polite?" she countered.

"Fair point, you win," declared Fred. He crossed the carpet and plopped down in the leather arm chair. "We should probably get some sleep," he added in a more serious tone.

Rose glanced at the sofa, then back to Fred as he repeatedly beat a fist into his pillow. Trying to make it more comfortable, she supposed. Her eyes returned to the oversized couch. Ample space for two, she thought to herself.

"How's your neck feeling?" she asked Fred. His head was propped awkwardly against the tiny cushion, which in turn provided scarce padding from the tight leather chair wing.

"Hurts," he admitted, grimacing slightly, "but I suppose it's something else to get used to, being part-human." He reached up to adjust the cushion. "Aches and pains never bothered me as a Time Lord, but I'll make do. I've been spoiled," he added, smiling ruefully at his own expense.

"No, you won't," Rose declared. "It isn't because you're human that your neck hurts - it's because you had it all scrunched up for so long. Hurts just thinking about it." Fred's eyes followed her, keeping his head still as though now he'd found a good position, he didn't want to risk losing it.

Rose sat down on the couch, and stretched along it so that she was pressed into the upright cushioning. She propped the side of her head on her right elbow, cheek resting on her hand. She patted the space beside her. "There's plenty of room." Fred's eyebrows rose, pillow sliding down to the chair's seat as he sat up. He lowered his feet to the ground but said nothing, looking adorably vulnerable in his hesitation.

"Go on, then," she encouraged him, "I promise not to poke fun at your hair." She smiled, trying to appear relaxed as a faint stirring of butterflies fluttered in her belly. His name is Fred, and he isn't quite the Doctor, but its so hard to tell the difference sometimes, Rose thought to herself. Would I have had the nerve to share a bed with him if he were his other self? His real self? What does real even mean these days? Why shouldn't I take what I can get? Despite these self-assurances, Rose still felt a stab of guilt as Fred rose from the chair and made his way toward her.

She would have given anything to know what was going on in his head right then. He gingerly sat upon the couch, bounced on it a bit, then nodded to himself as he stretched out beside her. Rose wordlessly reached down to the brown fleece blanket - how fitting a color, she thought - and pulled it up and over the both of them from toes to shoulders. Propping her chin in her fist once more, she turned to look at the half-Time Lord beside her.

Fred's eyes were riveted to the ceiling, arms to his sides and stiff as a board. He made scarcely any movement, even to breathe through his nose. Rose sensed the tension within him, and reached out to rest a hand on his too-still chest. "Hey," she said softly. "It's me. Rose. Remember?" She moved her hand in a gentle circle, trying to soothe him. "You can relax. I won't bite." Fred turned his head to face her, raising an eyebrow. "Much," she added belatedly with a cheeky grin.

Fred smiled back, raising his head to mimic her pose with his left elbow and fist, and her hand dropped to space between them. "I know," he said, voice full of emotion. The smile grew, as though he were recalling some happy memory. "And you have no idea how glad I am of it," he finished, face breaking into an all-out grin of pure joy. Rose swore that she could feel genuine rays of sunlight on her skin whenever he gave her that smile. Her collection of butterflies gathered themselves and took wing on a fluttery breeze of approval. "Glad that you're Rose, I mean" he added. "Not of your bite. Isn't as bad as your bark."

"Oi," she mock-chided, swatting at his elbow, and couldn't think of another word to say. That beguiling grin of his was charming her mind into a muddle. Fortunately, he interrupted her train of thought - or lack thereof: "You ," he said, reaching out with a finger to poke gently at her forehead, "were having a nightmare."

Memories of the dream - of the Bad Wolf - flooded her mind. "How did you know?" she asked him warily. Was this new version of him able to read her thoughts?

As if to confirm her suspicions, Fred answered: "I don't know what's going on in your head, if that's what you're asking." He dropped his finger, formerly tracing along her hairline, to the sofa cushion. "You called out in your sleep." He raised his eyes to hers and continued, "Said 'Doctor' quite a few times, and you sounded scared."

Rose's eyes had locked onto his as soon as he said "Doctor." Had she hurt him again? She searched his expression, which had taken on its most unreadable form. He was fidgeting with one of the tassels at the edge of the blanket, but she could make nothing of that. Rose closed her eyes for a moment, trying to recall the details of her dream.

"I was in the TARDIS," she began, opening her eyes to focus on his face. "But I wasn't really in there, just sort of looking in from the outside. Like watching a movie, yeah?" Fred nodded in encouragement, twirling bits of thread between finger and thumb.

"Everything was goin' mad. It looked like something hit the ship, and you lost gravity and started flyin'-"

"That's impossible," Fred interrupted, frowning in a mirror image of his imaginary counter-part's expression.

"Yeah," Rose agreed, "that's just what you said in the dream." Fred's eyebrows shot up. "You know me quite well," he told her.

"Course I do," she said. "May I go on?" Rose needed to get used his tendency toward interruptions, but couldn't keep the exasperation out of her voice. Fred nodded at her, tugging again at the tassel in earnest.

"You grabbed hold of the console screen, like you wanted to see what was goin' on," she began again. Fred nodded in approval of his dream counterpart's actions. "There was just this tiny speck of gold right in the middle of the screen, and one of your hands started to flicker. Your clothes changed color a few times, too," she added. Fred was paying rapt attention to her story, and she smiled inwardly. She had missed this - relating a tale of anything weird, the Doctor hanging on her every word before they began a proper investigation. She'd felt like sheriff's deputy to the universe.

"Then you kind of kicked off toward the door, and opened it just enough to see what was going on outside," Rose went on. She felt herself frown as she remembered what happened next, and looked into the blazing hearth for a moment. The flames put her uneasily in the mind of a certain wolf's eyes. When she looked back at him, he was gazing at her intently. "Go on," he said.

She took a deep breath. "There was nothing out there, Fred. No stars, no planets, just... black. Except for this one bit o' gold, getting bigger as we got closer to it." She stopped and swallowed, trying to figure out how to describe what she saw in words. "It was running, only in a different direction from where we were headed. Like if we were going north, it was heading west. Only it stayed in one place, just running in one spot. It got bigger or we got closer, and it was beautiful, Fred, I wish you could have seen it. And it was one of the most terrifying things I've ever seen."

Fred had stopped toying with bits of thread, giving all of his focus to Rose, eyes locked on hers. "What did it look like?" he asked softly.

Rose licked her lips. "It was... it was all gold coloured and had a long tail and a snout. It looked like a wolf. Its eyes were glowing and all this golden mist came off it when it moved. It even breathed gold dust." She bit down on her lower lip, trying to figure out how else to describe it. She glanced around the room, as though seeking the right words. Finally she gave up and looked at Fred once more. "Like I said, it was beautiful," she said finally. "And at the end of the dream it turned to me - or to you - and it howled." Rose swallowed before going on, "I felt that howl in each of my bones. It was sort of beyond sound."

She paused, waiting for his reaction. Fred's eyebrows had drawn down, and he turned to gaze into the flames. His fingers had captured the bit of tassel once again, and Rose could almost see the wheels turning in his mind as he twisted at the fabric. Curious as she was for his interpretation, she savored the sight of his expression. Those ever-present butterflies trembled within her, and her cheeks gained the slightest tinge of pink. The wolf in her dreams - her own Bad Wolf, no doubt - had nothing on him in this moment, reflections of the firelight dancing along the fine structure of his face as he pondered the meaning of her dream.

Fred turned to face her, appearing not to notice any change in Rose's colouring. He opened his mouth as though to say something, then closed it, exhaling through his nose. His jaw twitched, and he began again, "I could find out," he said, intense brown eyes searching hers as he went on. "Your dream. I could look inside your mind and find out what it was you saw. If you want me to," he added, seemingly unsure of what of her reaction would be.

"So you really can get inside my head?" Rose asked, expression troubled as she imagined the implications.

"Yes," Fred said, nodding. "But only with your permission. I can't just decide "oh, I wonder what Rose is thinking about my hair just now," and reach in for the answer. It doesn't work that way. We need to touch."

Rose frowned at him, deep in thought. "You've done it before, though, haven't you? That night when you said my name, when you were in the other universe. Isn't that the same thing?"

"My clever Rose," he praised with a smile. "Yes, but no. I did need to get into your head to call you, but I had the help of the TARDIS and the power of a dying star. For something like this, I need to reach out and touch you physically. Sort of like Mr. Spock in Star Trek, only less dramatic."

"I don't like anything going into my head without permission," she told him. "But you're not just anyone, and you don't have creepy pointed ears, and anyway you have my permission, so let's give it a try, yeah?"

"There's one more thing," Fred went on.

"Isn't there always?" Rose asked, raising her eyebrows with a smile.

"No, not always," he responded, shaking his head in emphasis, "but in this case, there is. I will be able to see into your mind - and I promise to try not to look any further than the dream-"

"To try?" she interrupted him. Oh, dear God, this could be very dangerous indeed.

"To try," he stated firmly, "Though I make no promises. You might be able to see my own thoughts, too, Rose. Sometimes it works both ways. Of course, this is all with the condition that my telepathic abilities are still in working order." Fred paused, waiting for any objections.

Rose's mind was working on overtime. Fred's head contained memories that belonged to the Doctor. Here she had the chance of seeing everything they had gone through, from the Doctor's perspective. Part of her felt dirty at the idea of using Fred to get at the Doctor's thoughts, but most of her was too excited and terrified at the prospect to care. She made up her mind and nodded at him, hoping to maintain enough self-discipline to keep her selfish interests hidden from him. Rose did hate herself sometimes.

Fred sat up, and Rose followed suit. He shifted on the couch to better face her, and she folded her legs to position herself in front of him. Her right and his left leg touched at the knees, and it took every effort to mentally prepare herself for his journey into her mind. He was reaching out with both hands, then gently pressed his fingertips against her temples.

"Try to relax," he said, closing his eyes as the physical contact was made. "It will make things easier for both of us," he added with an audible swallow. Though it pained her to do it, Rose closed her eyes as well. Images of the TARDIS made their way to the front of her mind, and she felt something - else - gently prodding along the edges of her consciousness.

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