A/N: Man, I've got to apologise. I bet everyone who has me on alert are getting really pissed off with the amount of frigging new chapter alerts they get! I'm sorry, but I write real quick and I like to get these chapters up before I lose them or delete them or something (I do stupid stuff like that, seriously). Anyway... sorry lol. Enjoy the ever-updating story though :D

Chapter Ten

Awakening

It took a lot to exhaust the Doctor. He never gave up easily. In fact, he made it one of his main priorities in life not to give up – it was the few things had had kept him alive these past few centuries. He prided himself on being relentless. Being as fearless as he could. Facing down anything with dignity and compassion. Full of forgiveness for as long as it was deserved. The Doctor did not crumble. The Doctor did not yield.

But drifting limply in this colourless world, the Doctor had finally succumbed. He couldn't do it anymore. He couldn't win. He couldn't even fight. This wasn't like the other times where death had been inevitable; when the situation had called for it he had been able to cheat his death by regenerating. This time, however, that ability would be more of a condemnation than a gift. Every time he died beneath that creature, stuck in this horrific nightmare world, he would simply regenerate. All the creature had to do was infect him again and he would be back to square one. Suffering once again. Then he would die and the process would repeat itself. No mercy. No escape.

He had convinced himself that Donna was dead. She was too stubborn to have realised there was nothing she could do. She wouldn't have gone back to the TARDIS. With him to feed from the creature would have no reason to keep her alive. And if that wasn't a bad enough thought, his heart-wrenching guilt of her inevitable demise just came back to haunt him over and over in the form of vivid illusions. Only he wasn't aware of them being illusions. He tried to save her, many times and in many different ways, but each time he failed and was forced to watch her suffer. It was torture.

So the Doctor hung in this awful place. Alone. Heartbroken. The irony that this nightmare world was of his own creation was not lost on him. It was unlikely that another being could imagine scenarios so terrifying, but the Doctor had seen so many horrific things they had burrowed in the back of his mind, spreading like a fungus. In this place they reigned freely. He had no way of controlling them anymore.

The empty void around him began to regain shape, but the Doctor didn't react to it. Why should he? There was nothing he could do. As soon as he dropped into the fresh nightmare he would forget about the reality of what was happening to him. Then he would be thrown back here to dwell on them until the next time. Best not to think about it. It would only drive him insane, if that hadn't already happened. He couldn't quite tell yet. However as he tumbled, he found himself laughing.

Perhaps he had lost it.

Wouldn't be the first time.

He woke up again and looked around with hooded, tired eyes. What was it this time? A lovely open barbecue with every single one of his companions as the speciality? A nice re-run of the Time War? Perhaps a few hours of merciless torture from one of his closest friends? Whatever it was, whatever awful torment his mind was ready to inflict upon him; he just didn't care anymore. Let it happen. Might be quick.

Then realisation struck him like a sack of pennies. He sat up, blinking. 'Now just hang on a minute,' he murmured. 'This isn't right. I shouldn't be able to remember…'

But he did. He was in a dream, yet he knew it was a dream. Oh, now this was a revelation. He felt a rush in his system that floored his previous reigning despair. Perhaps all was not lost. Could he be awake? Did Donna do it?

He looked around the dark, cold room. He had to squint to make anything out. He was sitting on a metal table, broken chains lying all around him. He pushed them off and hopped down onto the dusty floor. His legs felt weak and he stumbled, but managed to catch his balance on an overturned table not too far away. He rested there a moment, trying to will his legs into action. Finally they came back to life, although his left leg still felt a little tingly. He looked around, blinking rapidly to force his eyes to adjust to the darkness. Eventually they did and that's when he noticed the open door.

This was all wrong. If Donna had saved him then she would be here, no doubt screaming at him to get back in the TARDIS and take her away from this place. But she wasn't here. The creature wasn't here. The door was open. The Doctor couldn't help but wonder what lay in store for him on the other side of that door. Could it be that this was just another illusion? His mind trying to convince him that he had escapes his torture only to find himself still tangled up in it? He wasn't sure if he could handle such a disappointment.

So what then? Wait here until the creature came back and ask it if he was dreaming? Or head outside to potential safety. Or walk right into a horrific trap.

The Doctor pushed himself from the table and stumbled towards the open door. He hung on the doorframe and peered out into the corridor. Some of the lights were still on and were buzzing quietly. He grimaced. The buzzing sounded just like the creature, like it was right beside him. He had to look around to check, but he was alone.

'Donna?' he called tentatively. He didn't want to shout too loud – he could attract all sorts of trouble if he stood here shouting his head off. Well, only one kind of trouble, but that had proved to be bad enough.

There was no reply, so he picked a direction and limped along the corridor. That buzzing sound seemed to follow him. He glanced up. The lights were flickering like strobe lights, hurting his sensitive eyes. He put his hand over his eyebrows, trying to block the dizzying light. It didn't help much, but he wasn't about to let a little queasiness stop him now. So he hopped on, wincing at the irritating tingling in his leg.

He stopped suddenly when he heard something ahead. Footsteps. Voices. The Doctor froze. It was Donna. His hearts pounded.

'Donna!' he called automatically. 'Donna, I'm here!'

There was a muffled shriek. That wasn't Donna. It was younger. Perhaps a child. Then a loud, mumbling voice. Then Donna's unmistakable, breathy 'I-can't-believe-this-is-happening' tone. The Doctor stumbled forward.

'Donna!' he cried. He never thought he would be as happy as he felt right now at hearing her voice. He needed to see her, give her a massive, rib cracking hug. Okay, he was too weak for any hugs like that, but he had to have some contact after the time he had just had. A voice niggled at him to stop, to think rationally, that this was probably just another illusion, but he refused to listen. He stumbled forward through the flickering lights, which had started properly flashing rather than flickering. His movements appeared jerky and robotic in the strobing lights. His head began to throb, but he could still hear Donna. As long as he could hear Donna…

He skidded to a halt as a figure appeared in front of him. His mouth dropped open. What was this? This was… No, this was impossible. He couldn't even bring himself to voice his bewilderment. He just stared ahead, eyes wide.

The other Doctor was looking at him, compassion and sorrow etched on his face. He was pale and sickly looking, with a cut on his right temple. The shoulder of his suit was torn and caked with a sticky, black substance. Behind him, arms around two children, was Donna. She was pale herself, covered from head to toe in dust. The hatred in her eyes as she stared at him… Why would she look at him like that? What had he done?

He said her name, only his voice didn't pass his lips. Instead, he said, 'Bzzonnazzz.' He blinked. 'Bzzzz…zzzuzzz.'

The other Doctor sighed and shook his head. 'I'm sorry.' He said, in a voice he had heard a million times before. 'I'm so sorry.'

He stared at the scene before him. The Doctor. Donna Noble. Oscar and Bea Fields. A rage crept up inside of him and he felt his hands clenching and unclenching by his sides. How dare they! How dare they escape from him! The four of them! Full of those wonderfully succulent emotions… wasting them out there in that awful, awful void. Wasting them when they could be feeding a magnificent being such as himself. A being who was so perfect. They should be on their knees, begging to be the ones who kept him alive. Instead they did this! Hiding! Sneaking around!

The creature buzzed in anger and leapt forward. The Doctor raised the weapon in his hand and stepped in front of Donna and the children. Staring at the advancing creature with that infuriating sympathy, he apologised again, and pulled the trigger.