Title: Manipulation of the Mind

Author: Trustno1

Disclaimer: You know the drill; they aren't mine, never will be, please don't sue.

AN: It's starting to move forward a little now! Thank you for bearing with me - I seem incapable of writing anything short, but it does start to get a little more interesting from here :-)(P.S. reviews are like chocolate, just not as fattening!)

Chapter IX

The Doctor stood atop a small stepladder, tweaking some wires that protruded from the wall of the control room and appeared outwardly to have no purpose whatsoever. They emitted a small spark, and the Doctor jerked back, a grin on his face. Then, he jumped off the ladder, folded it away, and stuck it in a closet that materialised nearby. As he turned back to the central column, he noticed Rose had returned, and was now sitting on the couch, observing him with a strangely detached expression. A shiver ran down his spine, and that small seed of unease grew into a tiny shoot.

"Rose! Didn't see you there. Where've you been?"

"The astronomy room. It's very interesting." He frowned at her polite, inexpressive response. He knew she'd never seen the astronomy room with its impressive 3-D simulation of the Universe, and had hoped for a slightly more enthusiastic response than that. He'd actually wanted to show it to her personally, to watch her face transform beautifully with awe in a way he was becoming addicted to ever since he had met her. He was beginning to live for the moments when Rose stepped out of the TARDIS, eager to face wherever and whenever they were, with that gorgeous half-mile of anticipation that he first saw before she stepped onto the Space Station. So for her to talk about the astronomy room, (in his opinion one of the most fantastic rooms on the ship) in a voice with less emotion than that of someone reading the football results out, was strange to say the least.

"You okay, Rose?" he asked, making his way over. He saw a flurry of emotions in her eyes, but they were taken over by a dark shadow that he didn't like at all.

"Yes thanks, I'm fine." Rose heard herself saying the words as if she were in a bubble. They were distant, muted, not her own. 'I'm not fine, I have a headache, why am I saying I'm fine?'

Because you are. You are fine, Rose. He's just looking for an excuse to throw you out, take you home. Don't expect that his concern is genuine; assume it isn't.

'But he looks concerned. He really looks worried.'

He isn't. Remember the dream, Rose? I think you do. Did he look like a man in love then? And what did he do to you? You are seeing things you want to see, things that aren't there. You have so much hope that he'll notice you, and love you, that you're blinded to what he actually feels. Right now, he's hoping you are ill, so he can take you home and leave you there. Leave you behind, like you left your mum and Mickey and everyone else behind.

The Doctor watched as the emotion drained from Rose's face, her eyes. Eyes that had captivated him from the beginning with their immense range of human emotions - her wonder, astonishment, fear, love, compassion. They were cold. Blank. He forehead creased in concentration that didn't register in her eyes. She appeared to be thinking to herself, and the Doctor could only imagine what the hell it was.

"Rose!" he snapped his fingers in front of her. No response. He shook her. Her eyes widened ever so slightly, then returned to blank staring. The seed that was a shoot was now growing rapidly, like the beanstalk in that human fairytale, the one with the giant. Either way, it was engulfing him with fear. He gave himself a mental shake at the absurdity of it – a lack of emotions shouldn't faze someone in this way, but it was. It was terrifying. She was almost catatonic now, sitting rigidly on the couch, staring through the Doctor. He was about to carry her to the medical room and perform as many tests as he could, when she stirred, and her eyes came back into focus.

"I think I'll go and lie down, Doctor," she said, pushing past him to stand up. He was momentarily paralysed by astonishment, and she had already gone a few yards before he caught hold of her arm. She jerked away as if she had been burned. To Rose, it felt like someone had injected pure fire into her veins.

"Rose, you're sick, I need to take you to the medical bay," he pleaded, shaken by the fact she rebuffed his attempt to take her hand – it was their source of comfort when situations were less than promising, or if the other was scared and didn't want to admit it out loud.

Sure, he'll take you to the medical bay. Then declare you're too sick to travel with him; that you're a weak, puny human girl, and he'll take you home and leave you there, with all the people you left behind. Don't let him, Rose. Don't let him abandon you.

"NO!" Rose wasn't sure if she was yelling at the Doctor, or the voice, or the feeling, but she yelled and tore down the corridor towards the centre of the TARDIS. The Doctor was right behind her, she could feel it, feel him catching up with her, to take her home.

And then, he wasn't. She rounded a corner, took a left, a right, another right, and opened the first door she saw. There was no-one behind her. Her head pounded in time with her heart, and she felt hot all over. But here it was cool. Blessedly cool. She was unsure as to how she managed to loose the Doctor, but had an inkling it was to do with the Voice. The one that she couldn't hear. Why couldn't she? Her headache remained, and the feeling of hopelessness, but had she finally gotten rid of the malevolent, slimy Voice?

I'm he-e-ere!

Rose balked, a mixture of disgust and relief evident on her face at hearing the Voice from deep within her.

You didn't think I'd gone far did you? Can't get rid of me now Rose, I'm here for the rest of your life.

Rose began to relax; if she thought about it, the Voice was actually quite soothing, in a quietly insane kind of way. And if she thought about it some more, the Voice did speak truthfully, especially all that stuff about not hoping for too much. After all, how many times had she hoped the Doctor and her would manage to go somewhere without almost getting killed in the process. How many times had she hoped he would take her to a far off planet were nothing was wrong – where none of the inhabitants needed rescuing; where no-one was trying to blow it up; where it could just be her and the Doctor alone for a little while.

And that was where her own voice, faint and distant, like she was shouting to herself from the other side of the TARDIS, piped up. This was the voice that was adamant there was something wrong; that the Doctor wouldn't leave her no matter what; the one that told her to fight.

But that was the hard part – fighting. She had to strain to hear herself, and listening to the other Voice was so much easier.

It is easy, Rose. To listen to me. To do as I say. To behave correctly. So stop fighting. Stay here for a while, then go out, find the Doctor, and behave correctly. If he throws you out, so be it. You'll live.

Rose nodded mutely; almost certain she'd heard the voice tailing off with 'and then again, maybe you won't'. She ignored it and set about fumbling for a light switch.

End Chapter IX