CHAPTER NINE

"No, no, no, no, no!" a frantic voice yelled as a frantic hand scratched the back of a head on top of a rather frantic Doctor. "Juliet, No!" the Doctor yelled, jumping around the view screen in the TARDIS. Since the Doctor came to the dreams of Ben, Juliet, and the other members of the band and choir, he had tried to come up with some sort of plan to veer off the museum owner, a woman who he now knew could travel through space and time within that very building, without the aid of a TARDIS or any other sort of device. Was he out to actually stop her? Not really. He planned to use that same ability to reach his Rose, and nothing else really mattered, but he knew he couldn't do only that without having a guilty conscious. He needed to get the innocent students and teachers out of the way first; there was no knowing what harm could come to them in such an unstable environment, and if any were harmed in the process, their blood would be on his hands.

"You can't go in there!" he yelled again, as if everyone in the group were able to hear him from the inside of his ship inside the little broom cupboard in the museum's basement, forgetting for the moment that he too was in there. He pushed at a lever and pulled at another, bells going off and lights flashing around him, trying to figure out where he had gone wrong during the group's slumber the night before. Of one hundred students, fifteen chaperones, four bus drivers, and two music teachers, he was able to reach the dreams of about ten people. These were the ten people he deemed were able to connect with his slightly psychic mind and would not fear the message that they were receiving, or at least how they were receiving it. Most people would be frightened if an alien, albeit, a rather good looking and charming one at that, came to them in their dreams. It just doesn't happen on planet Earth, at least not for many, and when it does, it is not an experience many want to repeat.

The Doctor did a few more scans with the computer on the TARDIS to try and figure out the museum owner's motivation. "What does she want?" he yelled, the TARDIS not responding this time. "It's not money, she can go back and get as much of that as she wants. It's not power, as she could have done the same. It's, people. But why?" he asked. "What else would motivate her?" He pushed a few more buttons on the console, this time searching for any other anomalies he might not have picked up before.

And the TARDIS beeped.

The Doctor looked over at his monitor, noting a slight glitch up the museum's attic, a spot he definitely wanted to look at more closely. He took his coat and sonic screwdriver and stepped out of the TARDIS. If he timed it just right, which he of course always did, he would be able to hop into an eddy of the rift and go back in time a bit, to before when Juliet and the students arrived. He took a few steps and could feel that familiar tug he felt while traveling through the vortex on his ship and he knew that he had done it. He was now standing in the deserted museum on a beautiful morning. He found his way to the staircase and made his way up to the first floor. When he arrived in the lobby, he noticed that he had jumped back in time about sixteen hours or so. "Good, plenty of time," he said aloud, forgetting for the moment that he was now traveling alone. He took out his sonic screwdriver and began to scan for other eddies of the rift, to see where or when he might travel as he walked the building's corridors.

As he began his journey along the museum's tour route, he stopped when he picked up a familiar fragrance. "Rose?" he asked aloud and began to scan with the screwdriver again.

"Doctor…" Rose's voice echoed on the wind around him, but there was no wind, not even a gentle breeze that should accompany a building's air system or fans or any other sort of breeze one would find in a 200 year old building.

"Rose!" he yelled. "Rose, where are you?" he ran to the base of the stairs, tripping over a chair near the fireplace, a sudden peaceful warmth filling him, scaring him, and yelled again. He listened and he scanned, but there was no trace of the woman he loved anywhere nearby. "Rose," he whispered one last time, the word bittersweet on his tongue and in the air around him.

"She's not here," an old woman in eighteenth century dress said from behind him.

The Doctor turned around and saw the little woman. "What do you mean, 'She's not here?'"

"You should know, with your fancy flashlight, that she's not here. Why would she be?" the woman took a few steps towards the Doctor, her hands folded over her front as if in prayer. "If this 'Rose' does come, I shall have to let you know. Now, how did you find your way into my museum? We're closed today."

"I've been here all day with the music group. I'm one of their chaperones, John Smith."

"Well, Mr. Smith. I just spoke with you on the phone and you sound different, and you're not due to arrive for another two hours."

The Doctor smirked a little. He knew he shouldn't have used that name, but couldn't remember why at the moment. "Well ma'am, everyone tells me that."

"And you look different as well, from the last visit," the woman said. "As long as you're here though, why don't I give you a little tour."

"No, I'd rather show myself around, thank you though." The Doctor walked towards the stairs but felt a firm hand grasp around his arm.

"I have to open the rooms first," the woman said and she walked up the stairs, an air of dignity and age surrounding her.

The Doctor took the moment and scanned the room again, "I know you're here Rose, I just heard you, I felt you, I even smelled you." He was frantic and began to run around again.

"Don't," the old woman appeared from her office.

"But how, you were, there, here-" the Doctor trailed off, trying to make sense of the woman's sudden shift from being upstairs to being in her office without an entrance other than the one he was standing in. He thought of the rift, a cold chill ran through his spine, "Right. So who are you really, what are you really."

"Just the caretaker, nothing more," she said. "May I take your coat, get you a room to relax in?"

"I'd rather keep my coat, thanks, and I have dwellings for the night."

"I know," she said. "I've seen your blue box down in the basement," she put her arm in his, "and I have to say I'm rather impressed." The woman began to glide her free hand over the doctor's coat. A heavy scent began to take over the Doctor and for the first time in this generation, he began to feel woozy. "Are you sure you wouldn't like to sit down for some tea at least?" the woman asked, the Doctor's body feeling heavier and heavier as time ticked by slower and slower. Part of his mind tried to pull him out of the sudden need for sleep, but while the mind was willing, the body could not and he felt himself being led over to a chair near the fireplace. He blinked his eyes open for a moment and thought he saw Rose sitting across from him, asleep as well, but after another blink, she was gone.

The thought of Rose, being trapped in this place at some time in some dimension shook him awake. "No!" he yelled, the fury in his voice pushing the old woman away and she retreated elsewhere, else-when in the museum. He took out his sonic screwdriver and scanned for the anomaly the TARDIS had found earlier; it had grown stronger since he emerged from the ship. He ran up the stairs and ran into the first door that he thought would get him to his destination but instead found himself in a pink bathroom, a tub full of warm water and bubbles in front of him.

"Would you like a bath Dearie, it will calm you down. Then, we can talk about what you think is going on here," the woman said as she drew up the bath. The Doctor smelled that same heavy scent and felt the woman pulling his overcoat off of him. "I'm sure you'd like to relax," she said and the Doctor began to feel woozy again.

"I-" he tried to reply, but found his body fighting his mind for control. He just wanted to get in that tub, to sink into those bubbles, but he knew that if he did, he would fall victim to this old woman and her plans. He took a deep breath, "No, I can't!" He pushed back at the woman, who fell into the tub with his overcoat. He pulled out his sonic screwdriver just in time and began to scan again, noticing that the anomaly from upstairs was even stronger than it was a moment ago. He ran out of a door inside the room and found himself in a small bedroom, as pink as the bathroom was before. This time, he noticed the wallpaper looked like a candy store he once visited in his ninth carnation shortly before boarding the Titanic. He cringed and was about to run out when he noticed a black bag with the initial "RT" embroidered in pink letters on it. Could it be? He walked over to it and opened it, the scent of Rose's laundry detergent filled him with sudden memories of the woman. He smiled and shed a tear as he sat on the down-turned duvet next to the bag, at peace for a moment. He went through the small bag and discovered a picture that caught his eye, not of Rose, but of himself. He closed his eyes and savored the moment for as long as he could stretch it before he had to run again.

Always running, he was so tired of the chase and just wanted to stay still for the briefest moment. But first, he wanted his Rose. He had it all planned out too. He'd get her, pull her onto the TARDIS, and set the coordinates for Barcelona - they had never made it there yet. Then, they'd take a week or two and enjoy one of their resorts, and relax, and pick up where they had left of, before he had vanished into oblivion. Then he'd find a way back to Pete's world where he'd let Rose have a proper goodbye with her mother; if he didn't Jackie would kill him when it actually came time to seeing her again, if only by accident. And then he'd let the TARDIS take over as she usually did, and just let her take sail and set course.

But first, this dilemma of getting Rose back, which he'd attend to after the pain in the back of his head went away, which would only happen after he woke up, because, in his last moment of consciousness, he saw the old woman standing over him with an old candle stick. "How cliché," he said aloud as shades of red and black slowly overtook his existence, his sonic screwdriver dropping from his grasp until it came to a stop at the bottom of the staircase just outside the bedroom. The staircase that led to the anomaly that led to the answer, of now, how to save his Rose.