Author's Note: Hello, folks. Sorry for the delay in posting this, but I've been learning to role-play on another site, which has been heaps of fun, but has been taking up a bit of my time over the last couple of weeks.

Thanks very much to all the lovely people who assured me that the previous chapter was not too surreal, which was a huge relief. So big hugs to: MayFairy, SophieQueenOfTheWorld, Aietradaea, MountainLord-92, Drama-Queen's-Ramblings, Dragoneisha, Vincenth, Son of Whitebeard, RandomCitizen, Otaku-Neku (x 2), Scholar of Imagination, skidney, Darling-Stardusted-Traveller, RedPenWriter13, AVENGERS-girl-ASSEMBLE, The Yoshinator, LittleCatZ, XxCupcake-AssassinXX, TheWickedHeart, Slyork1991, Iris, mericat, Aries Felgate, KatietheBaka, Still Life Fantasy, Imorgen, BrOnZe-N-SilVeR, Crimson Delight and Theta'sWorstNightmare.

And heeeere's the next chapter...

- Chapter Fifteen -

Before the Doctor could react quickly enough to stop her, Allie walked as far as the middle of the huge room, where she stopped and stood completely motionless. There was nothing surrounding her except complete emptiness, but something about the space made the Time Lord's skin prickle in warning.

Striding after her, he whirled her around and looked urgently into her face. Her grey eyes were glazed and unseeing. He shook her slightly, calling her name.

"Doctor?" she answered, her voice rather alarmed but otherwise normal. He breathed a sigh of thankfulness. Her eyes still weren't focusing, but her responsiveness had to be a good sign. However the relief was short-lived, since almost immediately, she continued, "Doctor, what's happening? Where are you?"

He tightened his grip on her arms. "Allie, I'm right here. I've got you!"

"Doctor? Is that you?" The words were sharp, urgent, as though she was frightened.

"Yes, yes, it's me," he said eagerly. But her eyes were still far away and he got the strong impression that she not only couldn't see him, but that she wasn't even remotely conscious of his presence. "Allie?"

A mocking chuckle sounded from out of the darkness. Still holding Allie, the Doctor spun around, warily searching the dimness for signs of life. There was a slight stir of movement as someone stepped forward out of the shadows. The Doctor stared in utter shock, feeling as if he had been brutally punched in the stomach.

The newcomer had neatly cut brown hair and was dressed in an immaculately tailored black suit. His thin, handsome face was stretched in a familiar taunting grin.

"She can't hear you, you know," he said with malicious satisfaction. "You've already lost her, just like you lost all the others."

"Master!" the Doctor gasped. "No, that's not possible. You're dead. I burned your body myself. You can't be real."

"Of course I'm not real, you idiot!" the Master sneered. "Doesn't mean I can't hurt you though. Don't you get it? I'm from inside your head. I'm part of your guilt. Because I was the first."

"The first?" the Doctor repeated. "The first what?"

"The first friend that you betrayed. The first one you left behind." The Master's whiskey-coloured eyes were hard and bitter, just as the Doctor remembered them from the year he had spent aboard the Valiant. "You remember that, don't you, Doctor? You remember leaving me behind on Gallifrey, running away and leaving me to the mercy of the drums? I was your best friend! And you abandoned me."

"No, I tried to help you. I tried..."

The Master threw back his head and laughed. "You keep telling yourself that, Doctor. The guilt inside you says otherwise. Why else would I be here now? You so desperately don't want me to be dead, because you know that what happened to me was your fault!"

A nightmare, the Doctor thought frantically, shaking his head as if to clear it. That's all this is. A stupid illusion.

Within the circle of his arm, Allie was murmuring fretfully, like a child talking in her sleep. "Wake up! WAKE UP!"

The Doctor gritted his teeth, trying to force his mind back past the illusion and back to reality. Somehow he had to get them both out of here, before Allie lost her grip on her sanity.

"I don't have to accept what you're saying," he flung at the Master. "I deny your existence. You're not real."

The Master shrugged. "Accept, don't accept, it's all the same to me. I'm only the narrator in this little drama anyway. There are plenty of other stories to tell. I know...why don't you think of me as the Ghost of Christmas Future? That might be fun. Let me see now...where to start..."

He waved his hand and suddenly the two Time Lords were standing side-by-side in a small, untidy bedroom with a narrow, single bed. Discarded clothes were scattered around the room and a dressing table was scattered with cosmetics, jewellery and fashion magazines. A small bedside table was piled high with travel books on Egypt, South America and China. Allie had vanished altogether, as if she had never existed.

The Doctor turned angrily on the Master, but before he could speak, the door flew open, and a woman with dishevelled red hair entered. Her face was pale and tight with despair.

At the sight of her, the Doctor's hearts lurched in dismay.

"Ah, Donna Noble," the Master said. "Poor Donna. Still living at home with her nagging mother and her senile grandfather. No boyfriend or anyone to care for. Stuck in her dead-end temping job, surrounded by her inane, narrow-minded friends. Trying to scrape together enough money for a tedious week in Brighton during the summer. No hope, nothing to look forward to. Is it any wonder she's decided to take the only escape route left to her?"

Tears streaming down her face, Donna sat on her bed and reached for a glass of water and a bottle of pills.

"No! Donna, don't!" the Doctor shouted, stepping forward in horror, his hand outstretched to stop her.

"Oh, don't bother, Doctor," the Master mocked. "She can't see us or hear us. We're just observers here."

Helplessly, the Doctor watched as Donna shook out a handful of pills and swallowed them, before lying down on the bed and staring blankly up at the ceiling.

"This isn't real!" the Doctor said through his teeth. "Donna would never give up. She would never harm herself!"

"Of course she never would," the Master agreed. "Before she met you. When you erased her memory of you, you left a big gaping hole behind that she can't fill, no matter what she does. She's incomplete and it hurts and she doesn't know why. So she's dealing with it the only way she can. Tomorrow morning, Granddad Wilf will find her, and it will break his poor old heart."

He waved his hand again and the scene dissolved. "Still, if you don't like that one, there's plenty more. How about this?"

Glancing around, the Doctor realised they were standing in a padded cell, about ten feet from front to back, and about eight feet wide. A dark-haired figure wearing a straight-jacket was hunched against the wall, rhythmically rocking back and forth and moaning incoherently.

"Handsome Jack," the Master announced spitefully. "Bit of a come down for him really, but there's only so many times you can get dragged back from the dead without it sending you completely bonkers. I should know. Captain Freak here went nuts and started shooting people, so they locked him up and threw away the key. It's the Psychiatric Wing of Broadfell Hospital. Same place they put my wife, Lucy. Funny how things happen, isn't it?"

The Doctor couldn't help clenching his fists at the pitiful, broken thing his old friend had been reduced to. But, with a supreme effort, he forced himself to remain silent, refusing to acknowledge or participate in the visions he was being shown, knowing that only his belief made them real.

"Nothing to say, Doctor?" the Master taunted. "No? Nothing at all? That's a surprise – normally I can't shut you up. Well, I suppose we'd better move on to our next stop then. Time waits for no man, as they say."

The padded cell swirled and disappeared, and the next minute, they were standing on a building roof-top under a hot sun. The Doctor blinked against the glare, trying to work out where they were this time.

"Over there," the Master said, pointing helpfully.

Following the line of his finger, the Doctor saw a slim, feminine figure, dressed in a black military-style uniform, lying flat on her stomach on the concrete ground, staring down over the edge of the building. In her hands was a high-powered rifle, with telescopic sights attached, resting on a small tripod.

"Martha Jones," the Master continued. "Remember her? She was training to be a doctor when you first found her. But you turned her into a soldier. Because of her association with you, she started working for UNIT. Now she's a very highly-trained assassin. A killer instead of a healer. Right now, she's waiting for the Prime Minister of Pakistan."

While he was speaking, Martha's finger tightened on the trigger and she fired a single shot. "Oops, there he is," the Master grinned, as screams rose up from the streets below and the Doctor flinched. "Or should I say, there he was."

Swiftly and efficiently, Martha began disassembling the weapon, stowing the pieces safely in her tote bag. The Doctor felt sick inside as he saw her clinical, detached expression, so different from the vibrant, enthusiastic girl he had once travelled with.

This isn't real, he told himself again, concentrating on rejecting the pain and grief welling up inside him. Martha would never become a killer. She never would.

"Of course, she's convinced herself that she's acting for the greater good," the Master shrugged, as Martha activated a teleport device and vanished from the rooftop. "But that's what we all tell ourselves in the beginning, isn't it?"

The scene faded out again, and the air was suddenly full of angry shouting.

"Ah, the sweet sounds of domestic bliss," the Master remarked in an amused voice, as the outlines of a kitchen morphed in around them. Then, as a glass soared past his ear and shattered against the wall, he winced and added, "Well, perhaps not."

The Doctor stared at the coalescing image of a kitchen table, a terrible coldness creeping through his body. A woman was sitting there, a half empty bottle of whiskey in front of her. Her unkempt hair had once been coloured platinum, but obviously had not been touched up in some time, since long dark roots were creeping through the blonde. Her face had once been pretty, but now looked sour and disillusioned and immeasurably older.

"Rose," the Doctor croaked.

"Yes, dear, sweet Rosie-Posie," the Master replied gleefully. "Oh, and look, that's you." He inclined his head to a figure standing near the door, a tall thin man with spiky brown hair, an exact replica of the Doctor. "Only, it's not, is it? Which is precisely the problem."

The man's shoulders were tight with misery, his face tired and worn. "Rose, please, I'm begging you - you need to stop drinking. You're killing yourself."

"You should know," the woman snapped back, his voice literally vibrating with hostility. "After all, you're the reason I drink in the first place! Get out. Just GET OUT! I can't stand to see your face!"

Quietly, his expression wracked with pain, the Doctor's double slipped out the door and closed it behind him. Rose got to her feet just long enough to grab another glass from the cupboard, before slumping back into her seat and pouring herself another generous slug of whiskey. There were tears slipping down her cheeks as she raised it to her lips and tossed it down her throat.

"Looks like that little plan didn't work out so well, huh?" the Master commented. "I mean, I guess the thought was there – provide her with a replacement you, and then you could just disappear into the sunset, and she wouldn't even notice the difference, right? She could live happily ever after, like a princess in a fairytale. WRONG! It wasn't him she loved, you idiot, it was you. Oh, she tried at first. Did her best to settle down with him. But, little by little, things began to go wrong. The differences in him, the things that weren't you, started to chafe on her. Little by little, she began to despise him, for not being the man she fell in love with. And little by little, their relationship fell apart into disappointment and resentment and loathing. Now she drinks to forget that she ever met you." He pulled a face of mock sadness. "Such a pity, really. Maybe she could even have been happy, if you hadn't messed up her life."

"Shut up," the Doctor gritted out, his voice low and soft and dangerous.

"Oh, don't be like that, Doctor. There are a lot more I can show you, going back centuries. There's that cute little waitress - what was her name again? Astrid? - you had a pretty unique way of showing her the stars, didn't you, getting her killed and all? And what about Adric, remember him? KA-BOOM! And Jamie McCrimmon – the Red Coats hung him after the Time Lords returned him to his own time, did you know that? Very nasty way to go, so I understand. And what about your beloved granddaughter, Susan? You haven't seen her in a very, very long time. In fact, you never went back to see her at all. Not much of a grandfather, are you?"

"I SAID SHUT UP!" the Doctor roared, clapping his hands over his ears. "NONE OF THIS IS REAL. I DENY THIS REALITY. I DENY ALL OF IT!"

For the final time, his surroundings swirled, and Rose vanished away. Once again, he was standing in the large circular room on board the city-ship, with Allie held securely in his arms.

The Master still faced him. But now he was not alone. Everywhere he looked, the Doctor saw the familiar, beloved faces of his old companions, dozens of them, all of them full of hate and pain and blame, crowding closer and closer, a myriad of well-remembered voices calling his name. The Doctor shifted back and forth like a trapped animal, but the menacing apparitions were all around him, in an ever-tightening circle.

"Well, that was a fun little trip, wasn't it?" the Master asked sarcastically. "But, unfortunately, all good things must come to an end. The longer you're in this room, Doctor, the more your mental barriers are weakening. You won't be able to keep us out for much longer. The door's over that way." He pointed to the far side of the room, the opposite wall to the one where the Doctor and Allie had entered. There was a faint swishing noise, and a door slid invitingly open. "To reach it, you need to get through us. You need to wade through all your guilt and all your pain, reliving all the terrible things you've done in your life. The game is simple. If you reach it, you win. If you don't...well, I'm sure you can imagine what will happen if you don't. As for her..." - he looked disparagingly at Allie - "...you may as well forget her, she's already dead. Like I said, you can't save her."

"That's what you think!" the Doctor growled. "You always were too over-confident, Master. That's why you always lose."

Fighting for control of his own mind, he turned his back on the Master, spun Allie around to face him and cupped her cheeks with his hands, bringing her forehead down to meet his. "Allie! Can you hear me? ALLIE!"

"Doctor!" she called wildly. Her eyes still empty and blank, but somewhere in there, he sensed she was still fighting back. "Doctor, it's Allie. I'm here. I'm HERE!"

By concentrating hard, he was just managing to keep his own hallucinations at bay. But Allie was only human, she didn't have a Gallifreyan mind. If he didn't get her out of here soon, her own fear would kill her. Without wasting any more time, he summoned his psychic ability and thrust his mind brutally into hers, too urgent to be subtle, penetrating the thick cobweb-like visions that had wrapped their way around her brain. It wasn't difficult. Her consciousness was wide open and completely defenceless, as guileless as a child. He could see her, as if from a long way off. In the virtual reality of her dream-state, she was standing in an old-fashioned living room, staring frantically at a door behind her. Someone was screaming and the floor was shaking, as if giant footsteps were approaching. An older man he didn't know was cowering on the floor and giggling.

"Doctor!" Allie screamed. "It's the Gruffalo. The Gruffalo's coming for me!"

The Doctor had totally no idea what a Gruffalo was, but the fear in her voice was absolute, and he knew that whatever was coming couldn't be good. He tried to push closer, but found that he was prevented, as if by an invisible barrier. This was Allie's dream. To break its hold on her, she needed to close the distance between them herself.

"Silly little Allie, doesn't she know?" the man on the floor smirked in a mocking sing-song tone that made the Doctor want to punch him. "There's no such thing as a Gruffalo".

The shuddering footsteps beyond the door drew nearer and nearer.

"Allie, listen to me, you have to look away from that door!" the Doctor commanded, projecting his mental voice towards her. "Look away from the door and look at me!"

But the blonde girl seemed to be paralysed by her own terror and she didn't respond. The man on the floor was giggling insanely now, and then there was an enormous crash, as the door exploded inwards. A huge figure filled the gap and Allie screamed. To the Doctor's dismay, he recognised the terracotta golem they had so recently defeated.

Of course, he thought grimly, the incident with Charlie is so fresh in her mind, he would have to be her greatest nightmare.

"Hello, Allison Castiel," the golem said in his deep, ponderous voice. "I have come back from the dead for you. You can run and you can hide, but you will never escape me, as long as you live. I will always come for you."

In the background, the Doctor could hear the voices of his old companions, calling his name over and over again, like waves crashing against the ocean shore, trying to drag him back. Desperately, he began muttering mathematical formulae to himself, trying to screen out the illusions and to keep himself focused on what he was doing.

"Allie!" he shouted, mentally extending his arm towards her. "ALLIE! Take my hand!"

She turned towards him, but still didn't move, too frightened even to scream, as the shadow of the approaching golem fell over her.

"Don't do it!" the man on the floor moaned. "Don't touch him!"

Charlie was nearly close enough to seize Allie now. If he succeeded, the Doctor guessed the dream would end, her heart would stop beating, and he would be helpless to keep her from dying.

"Allie, if you ever trusted me, take my hand NOW!" he cried, savagely hurling his mind against the invisible barrier holding him back.

Just as Charlie reached her, she surged forward and their fingers met.

I trust you, Travelling Man...

Her thought came to him clearly through their psychic connection as, with a powerful yank, he pulled them both free of her nightmare.

This time, when Allie's eyes opened and looked directly into his, the Doctor could see they were alert and aware again, completely cognisant of her surroundings.

"Doctor!" she exclaimed, relieved tears trickling down her face, her hands clutching convulsively at his arms. "Oh, thank God, you're real! Thank God, I'm back! I was so scared!"

"It's all right," he said soothingly, folding her into a hug, but careful to maintain his psychic link with her, still shielding her mind with his own. "Everything's going to be fine now, Allie. But you have to keep listening to me, okay?"

She nodded. "Okay."

"Tell me, what can you see around you?"

Reluctantly, she pulled her eyes away from his and glanced around, her gaze passing right through the Master and the crowd of ex-companions, as if they weren't even there. Which, of course, for her they weren't. This was his nightmare, and his alone.

"Nothing," she responded. "Nothing at all, just a big empty room."

"Oh, very well done, Doctor," the Master approved, clapping his hands in appreciation. "Almost impressive, even. But ultimately futile. We both know the only reason she isn't being affected any longer is because you're shielding her inferior little mind. And you can't simultaneously shield both of you long enough to reach the door. So what do you intend to do?"

Ignoring him, the Doctor kept his attention focused on Allie. Perspiration trickled down the back of his neck. It wasn't easy for a Time Lord to maintain a prolonged psychic connection with a human mind. The strain of protecting them both from the terrible visions was already wearing him down and it was all he could do to speak. "Good. That's good, Allie. Because that's all it is. A big empty room. It can't hurt you. Now, can you see the door on the other side? It's wide open."

"Yes, I see it."

"When I say 'Run!', I want you to run towards it as fast as you can, without stopping for anything, until you're safely on the other side. Can you do that for me?"

Her eyes widened in alarm. "What about you?"

"I'll be right behind you," he lied. "But you can't wait for me. You just run, all right? That's an order."

She bit her lip, but eventually agreed. "All right."

The Master laughed loudly, the insane sound escalating malevolently around the room.

"It's not going to work, Doctor," he jeered. "You're both going to die!"

All around, the haunting circle of apparitions grew tighter, the voices yammering the Doctor's name louder and more demanding, tearing at his mind, and he realised his control was slipping.

Summoning all his remaining energy for a supreme effort, he shouted, "RUN! NOW!"

Blindly, Allie stumbled forward, picking up speed as she raced towards the door. She felt light, her consciousness empty of everything but his command to run. She was unaware that he had completely abandoned his own protection to concentrate on hers and was insulating her mind from the hallucinations with his own.

Vaguely, at the very limits of his strength, he saw her reach the exit and pass through it. As soon as she vanished, the door slid shut and seemed to shimmer, the outline of it merging with the wall, as if it had never been there at all, leaving him trapped inside.

"Oh, now that was a big mistake, Doctor," the Master laughed. "The last one you'll ever make."

Surrounded by the nightmarish faces of the people he loved, he fell helplessly to his knees, as the army of spectres crowded forward, reaching greedy hands towards him, ready to tear him to pieces.