Ahhh. Finished at last. It's taken me so long to carve out this chapter (at first because of lack of inspiration, and then because we were travelling for a full week and I didn't have the time or resources to write.) But it's done! Finished! There is SO much going on in this chapter – much more speed than the majority of the fic so far. I'm dumping lots of stuff in your lap, so be warned. Nekst chap already in progress!

Disclaimer: I own two clones of the Doctor. Well, I've adopted one, am living with two in all. Doctor Five wishes desperately to be adopted, people! But I don't own anything else. So sad. If I did, this would be series four and Donna would be spared.

Previously:

... Because for a split second, before Theresa's phone had rang, every sign across the street, every car's license plate, every word written in the shopping centre had been the same two words; the same two words he hadn't seen or heard for nearly three years.

It can't be back, he thought. It's gone. She's in another Universe. They're both gone…

But the images refused to fade. He knew what he saw, and what he had seen could not be ignored.

Bad Wolf had returned.

Chapter Eleven: Last Chance Day

She had turned away; the Doctor dragged a hand down the side of his face, looking over and over at the signs and license plates. But the words were gone, not a Bad Wolf written anywhere in sight.

The Doctor felt his hearts beating hard in his chest. His emotions were muddled – more so than usual. He couldn't tell one emotion from another, much less which emotion was the most prominent. Anxiety? Confusion? Surprise? Downright bewilderment? It was a jumbled mess his mind simply couldn't sort out.

"Look, Chris, I've got to go. I'm at work." Theresa paced as she spoke, and then paused. "Yeah, sure, I'll call later... Okay... Cool, I'll make myself a note or something. Thanks. Talk to you later."

As Theresa turned back to face him, finishing her call, the Doctor did what he usually did with his emotions: he shoved them into a corner of his mind and ignored them.

She closed her phone and sighed, looking up from the ground. The Time Lord had composed himself, stared up at her with curious eyes, waiting patiently, and fiddled absently with his empty cup.

Wedging her phone into her jeans pocket, Theresa glanced at the shop window, trying to see inside. The tinted windows offered nothing but her reflection; she did a double-take. Her eyes went wide as she saw a squat, balding figure heading in her direction. The brunette spun on her heel, expression plainly announcing a stream of silent curses.

Her manager was striding purposely down the sidewalk, heading straight for her, his face arranged into a deep-set scowl. Theresa swallowed. The same curse word ran through her head like it had been stuck on repeat, or like a verse to a song being played on an old, scratched 45 record. In her peripheral vision, Theresa saw the Doctor straighten; she imagined him cocking an eyebrow at the sight of the enraged man coming towards her like a freight train at the end of a dark tunnel.

"Schwartz!" Her name echoed across the parking lot; Theresa winced visibly. "The last time I checked, I wasn't paying you to lounge around." Her manager halted about a metre away; the Doctor rose from his seat, standing next to the table.

"Mr. Stoggs." Theresa managed a weak smile, mind already inventing an escape. "I – I was just talking to my Professor," she gestured to the Doctor. "He came to see me about my essay."

The man continued to scowl. "I don't care what you were doing," he ground out. "I told you the last time I let you off, Miss Schwartz, that I would not give you any more warnings." Mr. Stoggs thrust a finger at her, completely ignoring the Doctor's existence.

"But I was only going to take a min—"

He cut into her meagre protest. "No. I've had enough, Schwartz. You've been late three times in the past two weeks, your uniform is a disgrace, your hat's on sideways, and now you're neglecting your duties." His scowl deepened and Theresa just stared. Stoggs thrust his finger at her again. "This is it, Schwartz. I'm putting you on probation for a minimum two weeks, with no pay. You obviously need time to get your act together." Almost in an afterthought to himself, Mr. Stoggs looked heavenward. "I should fire you." He shook his head as if questioning his own sanity. "But, the customers love you, that much has been obvious over the past year." Then his expression darkened visibly.

He took a step closer. "But if you aren't in perfect shape –" Theresa saw spit fly from his mouth as he spoke – "when you get back, I will not hesitate to fire you on the spot. Do you understand? I want you in top performance, not a hair out of place." Again the spit flew.

Stoggs paused. Theresa was frozen, but she could feel the dark stare of the Doctor behind her.

"One more thing, Schwartz. Try to remember that this is a professional business, and as such I expect you to socialise with your …" Stoggs sneered at the Doctor, acknowledging his presence for the first time, "…colleagues elsewhere."

And with another glare at Theresa, Mr. Stoggs stormed into the shop. Theresa stood, staring into the distance with an expression that proclaimed raw bewilderment. The Doctor moved to stand in front of her, studying her and waiting for a reaction. A moment later, Theresa finally met his gaze.

"I think that went well," he said flippantly. The Doctor raised an eyebrow at her as she moved calmly to the bike rack and started to unchain her old bike.

"Yeah," she wheeled her bike out onto the sidewalk. "It could have been a lot worse, I guess."

The Doctor only grinned and shook his head as they started back down the street towards Theresa's apartment.

It took them less than thirty minutes to get back to Theresa's apartment. The Doctor had filled the silence with constant rambling, talking almost non-stop the entire time. Theresa didn't mind – she found herself enjoying his company. Other than David, she never really had the time to talk to anyone outside her Uni friends. The fact that the Doctor was alien only made his monologue all the more interesting.

By the time they had arrived, Theresa had already pushed the sting of her new probation sentence from her mind. Her mood had lightened considerably and she was much more relaxed. Theresa announced that she had decided to work on her essay, even though the due-date had been moved back – which, she told the Doctor, was what her classmate had called to tell her when Stoggs had shown up.

The Doctor had nodded and retreated to the TARDIS – what he was going to do there, Theresa didn't know. She now sat at the dining table in her living room; her laptop sat in front her, research papers and notes splayed out all around her, a ballpoint pen hanging from her mouth. She had been working on her essay for nearly two hours, iTunes blaring and fingers pounding on the keyboard.

Theresa had thrown herself into her work for more than one reason. She not only wanted to get ahead – she'd been behind on assignments too many times to pass up the opportunity – but working took her mind off the frustration of the day. She had tried to ring up David about twenty minutes earlier, but had discovered her phone was useless again; she worried about her work situation. Proving herself to her impossible employer – more colourful descriptions came into Theresa's mind – would be difficult at the best of times; and now there was the threat of severe financial difficulty. She also hadn't noticed her headache was gone until it came back again.

So she worked, crowding her mind with theories and explanations and definitions. Theresa blamed her sudden inspiration for her essay on the Doctor – coincidentally, she was studying astronomy and astrophysics; the perfect example of how much her perspective on life had changed in the past twenty-four hours. Theresa knew, with almost solemn realisation, that her life would never be the same again. Sure, she might work the same jobs and go to the same school, buy groceries in the same stores and live life like every other person on the planet, but it would be different. It would always be different.

"How's the work coming?"

The Doctor's voice broke through her multitasking thoughts; she looked up, swivelling around to face him. The alien was leaning against the doorjamb, hands thrust into the pockets of his impossibly snug-fitting suit.

"Faster than I thought it would," she told him truthfully. "What's up?"

She almost put 'Doc' on the end of that last sentence but resisted the urge, briefly wondering if he'd been exposed to the wondrous world of Bugs Bunny. Although, for an alien, he seemed to be very knowledgeable about most of what happened on Earth – probably more than most humans. Theresa tried to suppress a grin.

"Oh, nothing much really," he waved a hand dismissively. "Figured I'd come and check on you."

Theresa cocked a doubtful eyebrow at the faint hitch in his tone. "Yeah, okay. Sure."

"Oh, fine." He heaved an exaggerated sigh. "So I heard the music and got curious. Happy?"

She just rolled her eyes at him and his grin broadened; he pushed away from the wall and came to peer over her shoulder. He slid black-framed glasses onto his nose.

"Ooh, astrophysics. A bit basic, but not too bad for a human," he mused. Theresa sat back in her chair and watched him read. He scrolled up and down the screen, scanning.

"It's just a rough draft," she told him suddenly, spotting a mistake as he paused to read over a paragraph. He made a face that typically meant that it made no difference to him.

"Not too bad," he said finally. "Again, for a human. The theory you explain in this paragraph is slightly incorrect, but that's not your fault – Bernardo Deani discovers the fault in around 2018, so best leave it the way it is. Timelines and all that."

Theresa only rolled her eyes. Time traveller. Right.

He leaned away just as another random song began to play; her iTunes had been set on shuffle, but the brunette easily recognised the artist. And by the look on the Doctor's face, he did too. A huge grin appeared on his lips and he was suddenly bouncing lightly on his toes, hands still in his trouser pockets. Theresa raised her eyebrows as he began to sing along to the song that had come on, voice slightly off key but accent flawlessly Scottish.

"When I wake up," he sang, "well I know I'm gonna be, I'm gonna be the man that wakes up next to you" He swayed from side to side, head leaning back and eyes closed. "When I go out, yeah I know I'm gonna be, I'm gonna be the man you goes along with you."

The Doctor winked at Theresa's amused expression and grinned wider as he continued.

"If I get drunk, well I know I'm gonna be, I'm gonna be the man that gets drunk next to you; And if I haver, yeah I know I'm gonna be, I'm gonna be the man who's haverin' to you."

Leaping forward, the Doctor took hold of Theresa's arm and pulled her from her chair, jumping into the chorus and urging Theresa to go along. Theresa laughed, collapsing into giggles as he started twirling her around.

"But I would walk five hundred miles, and I would walk five hundred more, just to be the man who walked a thousand miles to fall down at your door." Theresa sobered enough to stop laughing and joined in with the next verse.

"When I'm walkin', well I know I'm gonna be, I'm gonna be the man who's walking hard for you." The Doctor grinned broader as she went along with his dancing and twirling with the music. "And when the money, comes in for the work I do, I'll pass almost every penny on to you."

They twirled and spun, falling into some kind of sloppy tango. They sang and laughed, and in only moments Theresa's mood had lightened immensely. Almost too soon the song came to an end, and on the final note, Theresa spun away and plopped down onto her small sofa. Her heart raced with adrenaline and her face was flushed pink from laughing.

She ran her fingers through her hair, mussing it and attempting to sober. The Doctor dropped down next to her, stretching his long legs out with a big grin on his face, hands behind his head. The song changed again, but it was something quieter this time. The brunette leaned back, smiling and still unable to resist the occasional giggle. It was like she'd gotten high on the energy flowing around the room.

There was a pounding at the door. Theresa jumped, heart sputtering in surprise. The Doctor's head snapped up, an eyebrow raised high.

"You seem to be very popular among visitors," he commented cheekily. Theresa leapt up and scrambled to the door, heart racing slightly faster than it had been before. She had a feeling she knew who it was; only seconds later the door was wide open.

And standing on the porch was David, looking almost anxious. Theresa's eyes widened for a brief second; she'd been right.

"David!" The word was an exhaled breath. He seemed slightly taken aback by her appearance, flushed face and ruffled hair. And then he saw the Doctor, who looked equally dishevelled.

Theresa had never seen David's eyes so dark.

She could feel his annoyance turn to anger, emotion radiating off him in waves. His normally light eyes had turned a cold, slate grey; they flicked from Theresa to the Doctor and back again. Hands clenched to fists. Theresa's face, the Doctor's missing grin, Theresa's panic, the Doctor looking down his nose and his hands in his pockets, iTunes music still playing loudly. And Theresa knew exactly what David was thinking, what the scene before him looked like through his stormy eyes.

"Just a friend?" he asked in a low voice, locking her in his gaze; he quoted what the Doctor had said the day before. "Just an 'old friend.' How old, Theresa? Just how long have you been with him?"

His voice had risen, but Theresa said nothing. She couldn't lie to him, but the truth was worse than silence. She stared at him, standing in the full force of his growing anger.

"I came here to apologise for yesterday because I thought you told me the truth. I was going to tell you I was sorry. You know, I keep trying to phone you. I wondered what was wrong with your phone. But then I see this – you and some guy that doesn't even have a real name! I get it now that you're avoiding me. I trusted you, Theresa. And you've lied to me."

His words cut deep, but she stood and took it all without a sound. Lying by omission of facts was truly her guilt. Theresa could feel the blood draining from her face, lips drawn into a thin line, as she remained prisoner to David's gaze.

"What's happened to you? He demanded. "What is it that you need, Theresa? Because if you could explain to me what's going on with you right now, I would really appreciate it."

Theresa's mouth opened and closed but no sound came. Misinterpreting her inability to speak, David finally looked away, grabbing at his sand-coloured hair, inhaling and exhaling sharply; a weak attempt at venting his anger. Theresa felt light-headed from being released from his gaze so suddenly. She could feel the Doctor's almost reserved emotions from across the room; the feeling contrasted glaringly to David's slowly cooling rage. David was like a kettle of boiling water that had just been taken off the stove.

"You know what?" He went on suddenly, turning back to her but unable to meet her gaze. "You know what? I'm going. If you don't want to see me anymore, fine. Whatever. I don't care. Things have changed. You've changed. I'm your boyfriend, yet I'm standing outside your door while he is inside where I should be." David began backing away; stepping towards the stairs, face hard as stone. "Just call me when you feel like having me in your life again."

And then he was gone, walking swiftly down the stairs and storming down the sidewalk, out of sight. Theresa stood at the door, unmoving. She waited until his footsteps could no longer be heard before slowly closing her apartment door and locking it. She leaned her back against it; let herself slide slowly to the floor, staring into empty space. Her body was flushed with cold and goose bumps prickled on her arms and neck.

The Doctor hesitated a moment before making his way across the room. He squatted down in front of her, trying to meet her glassy-eyed gaze. She stared into space for a moment, looked up at him. The Doctor set a comforting hand on her shoulder, his eyes clouded with guilt.

"I'm sorry," he said softly. "I am so, very sorry. This is completely my fault. If I--"

"No, it's just – I need..." She inhaled deeply, mind forming only broken sentences. "I need... could you... a moment?"

The Doctor looked solemn as he nodded his consent.

"I'll be in the TARDIS if you want to talk," he said. The Doctor left the room, leaving Theresa with her thoughts.

Theresa's mind was numb. She didn't know what to think, other than the fact that she had pretty much lost her job and her boyfriend in the same three hours. David's words had hurt, but she couldn't have said anything. She couldn't lie, not to him, but the truth would have made everything so much worse. He wouldn't believe a lie, but she knew he couldn't believe the truth, either. It was too much; she was in too deep. She wondered how she would ever make it up to him.

Her mind seemed to finally come into focus. She would survive this – she always survived. This would be no different from any other obstacle she'd ever tripped over. But the worst thing about it all was that the Doctor was blaming himself. Theresa lifted her head up, having been staring at the floor, slumped against her door. She couldn't let him blame himself – no matter what he thought, if wasn't his fault. This was fate. This was why she was feeling so edgy the night before. This had been meant to happen. It had been unavoidable. It had happened for a reason, whatever reason that happened to be.

Letting her guilt and pain slip away, Theresa rose to her feet, feeling surprisingly sturdy and solid. She became aware of her surroundings again – iTunes was still playing on her computer. She walked over to turn it off, paused when she realised what song was playing; Last Chance by Jet. It was certainly fitting.

Theresa turned off the music and walked to the TARDIS.

The TARDIS was dark. Theresa slipped through the door, leaving it cracked open to let in some light; the consol room was cloaked in shadows and darkness. The glow of the central column was so faint she could barely tell it was there. Seeing the ship – living or not – in such a state was depressing; Theresa had already found herself quite fond of the TARDIS, as strange as that sounded. She wedged her hands into her pockets, brows furrowing slightly as she watched her breath curl through the air like fog or smoke. Why was it so cold? She peered around the room. It was empty.

Theresa circled around the consol once, half-expecting to see the Doctor lying beneath it, but he wasn't there. Frowning now, she looked towards the maze of hallways leading deeper into the TARDIS. Hadn't he said there was a kitchen on board? Maybe he'd gone to make himself tea or something. That, at least, seemed like something he would do.

She eyed the hallways for a moment, deciding which one to go down. Something told her getting lost would be very easy if she wasn't careful. Making up her mind, she went down the hallway on the right.

Her shoes clinked on the grated floors as she walked, giving the already dark scene an eerie feel. She noticed as she walked that the hallway was set at a downward slant, leading her down, probably beneath the consol room. She also noticed that the farther she walked, it seemed, the warmer it got. Deciding the Doctor would be where the heat was; Theresa quickened her step and followed the growing warmth.

She walked for a solid two minutes before coming upon a door that was slightly ajar with dim light filtering through the crack, bleeding out into the hallway. Relief washed over her, but she wondered what the Doctor was doing so far from the consol room. Theresa pushed open the door and slipped in, taking in the details of the room. But her eyes widened when she saw where she was.

The room looked as if it hadn't been visited in years, ancient and old fashioned. Stone pillars stretched high to the ceiling and intricate carvings laced the walls. Old fashioned, frosted glass windows had been built into the walls and shafts of light streamed down from holes in the ceiling, highlighting the particles of dust floating around the room.

Theresa stepped forward, eyes wide with wonder. The very back of the room had a staircase that split apart, both flights led to identical arched entryways at either side of the wall. A large, intricately sculpted window sat above the middle landing of the staircase; a circular disk had been set into the top of the window, made of some kind of dark metal. An emblem had been carved onto the surface of the disk; it was similar to the symbol for infinity, carefully sculpted and elegant. Torches – real, honest-to-gosh flame torches – were set up all around the staircase, offering their own flickering light. She briefly wondered what could have been the source of the light streaming down from the ceiling and pouring through the frosty glass windows.

The brunette frowned a little. As dim and musty as it was, the room was bright and lively compared to the rest of the TARDIS. Theresa could feel the energy floating through the room, heard a weak hum reverberating from the walls – weak, but very there, very real. It was if this place had not yet begun to die with the rest of the TARDIS. Theresa tucked her observations away for later examination, and continued her investigation of the room.

A raised, illuminated ramp similar to the one in the consol room led to the centre of the room, where a strange platform sat. The platform had tall, thin spires that extended upward on each of its four corners. Theresa slowly made her way up the ramp, arms folded across her chest.

No, the Doctor certainly wasn't in this room, but whatever she had stumbled upon was unlike anything she'd ever seen before. The atmosphere in the strange room was slightly eerie, quiet. It was obvious the room hadn't been disturbed in a very long time. Theresa wondered if the Doctor even knew it existed. It was certainly a possibility – who knew how many rooms the TARDIS had?

Approaching the strange, spired platform, Theresa realised it was designed a lot like an altar. The edges of the altar sloped down towards the centre, where a large, dome-looking thing sat, no taller than the edges of the platform itself. The dome was covered completely by interlocking carvings and designs Theresa couldn't even begin to recognise. Many of them seemed to be arranged like words, but the alphabet was nothing but meaningless markings and squiggles to her.

A thick layer of dust rested on the altar, settled in the nooks of the carvings. Theresa reached out, ran her finger over the surface of the dome, leaving a trail in the dust. The surface of the dome was warm, warmer than the rest of the room. The tip of her finger tingled where she'd touched the carvings; the strange feeling lingered a moment, then dissipated. Theresa's brow furrowed, curiosity sparking. She stared down at the peculiar platform, eyes tracing the patterned surface of the dome. What could this thing possibly be?

Lifting her eyes, she slowly moved away from the platform. Her gaze roamed around the room again, settled on the large window between the stairs. Theresa approached them, stepping down off the raised ramp and staring up at the dusty window. Light spilled from the glass panes, but the window had been designed in such a way that it was impossible to see through; Theresa tried to imagine what could possibly be on the other side – if there was even anything behind it at all.

Theresa wandered for another few minutes, taking in as much as she could. She inspected carvings, gazed at the shafts of light from the ceiling, watched the torches burn like they would never stop. Eventually she came full circle and returned to the domed platform.

Staring down at it again, Theresa's brows furrowed. For the life of her she simply could not figure out what the dome was. It was obviously something alien, but what was its purpose? It seemed significant somehow, and her curiosity was beginning to gnaw at her insides, lingering at the back of her mind like an itch she couldn't scratch. She reached out to it again, this time leaning over the edge so she could reach farther. She laid her hand against the centre of the dome, palm flat against the surface. It seemed warmer than before.

On an impulse, she leaned down, peered closely at the centre of the dome. She could scarcely make out the pattern of the carvings that came together at the centre point, forming a shape not dissimilar to an eye…

The temperature of the dome increased suddenly, spread heat up her arm and all the way to her shoulder. Theresa gasped; the heat flushed her entire body, numbing it. She couldn't move, her body paralysed by the warmth. Her eyes fell closed as more heat crept up her neck and smothered her head. Bright, white light exploded behind her eyes.

She screamed as her mind was enveloped in fire and light.

So there you have it, readers. Chapter Eleven. The room described here, as some of you older Whovians might know, is from the original series, not something I made up. I used a screen-shot for the description, and personally I think I did a fair job in doing so. I won't tell you what it's called or what it is - that would give it away! XD Oh, and I'm not apologising for the cliffie. Never will. –grins evilly– (Even ask Doctor Two. He'll say the same.) Reviews? I don't feel like begging or persuading people for them today, but they always brighten my day. :) I also don't own the lyrics to the song - the Proclaimers have full ownership, not me.

-Dots