Author's Note: This is Strange Principles, otherwise Faye, sitting at a desk in a faraway isolated cottage with no internet connection, and only a battery powered laptop that will soon be taken away from her by her computer fanatical father, writing the next chapter to what she hopes is a much anticipated fan fiction, Stay Within My Sights, Stay Living in My Dreams. Why is she doing it? Because she loves her reviewers and she loves writing, and she wants you all to go away today feeling satisfied that you have read another grammatically incorrect, possibly over-descriptive, chapter with a blown out of proportion and confusing plotline. Because that's the way she writes, and she hopes you enjoy it and appreciate it. Anyway, before her computer's battery does indeed run out, she shall proceed directly to the point. And get writing.

So, who wants a glimpse into the Doctor's past? Hee hee!

… Somewhere

Think, Rose, think…

She was trying, she really was. The cogs in her brain were grinding, but it was so hard. The Doctor lay about her in pieces of glass, shattered before her very eyes, and she couldn't think of a darn thing. It was just so unfair. Three days of a reunion, they had had. Three days for Rose's heart to heal again and then be ripped apart. Why did every meeting only end in more heartbreak?

Opening her eyes, a piece of glass took her attention, because there, in front of her, was a familiar sight.

Her face.

A face that was smiling and laughing; obviously, then, in the company of the Doctor.

She fell to the floor on her knees; they just collapsed. The TARDIS floor shook. The Doctor's memories and feelings were splayed out before her, and she knew she shouldn't look. She wasn't trying to look at some of the scenes before her. But she had to think, and her only rational thought was that if she could find the Doctor; the present Doctor's self, that fragment that was telling the story of where he was right now, if he existed at all, she might be able to get his help and reverse what had happened.

So she had no choice but to look through the shards. For the first time in her life, Rose Tyler felt lost among the memories. Because now, she could see everything from the Doctor's own eyes.

And how different it was from her vision.

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So many people had flashed through his life, vibrant and laughing one second, passed away like the day the next. But there were few who lingered on, alive in his memory, and these people were the brightest of all. She saw familiar faces. People she had known briefly but obviously had the Doctor… spellbound. It was funny, because she felt no envy for them, who had won a piece of his heart so easily. Just remorse, because they'd never see him again. He'd never see them.

Madame De Pompadour, Sarah Jane Smith; people who must have only been Time Lords; the TARDIS; Linda, one of the girl's from Game Station – cute little Linda; other companions, all dedicated – ready to follow him into the dragon's den; even Mickey had somehow wormed his way in there. None of them were particularly happy memories.

One was of a letter that she barely got a glimpse of before it was folded away into the Doctor's jacket. One was of Sarah Jane Smith, young again; Time Lords who looked at the Doctor as a radical of their race – Time Lords dying; the old Doctor flinching as he heard something on the intercom – maybe someone scream? – a girl with short hair looking near death – another girl, leaving the Doctor, deciding to stay with a new found love. Mickey's departure, to stay forever in a parallel universe.

But there was one person in particular that stood out from the rest. Someone who Rose knew had stuck with him through the thick and the thin. She knew her well, but she didn't respect the girl that much. The Doctor was way too good for her. He shouldn't favour her in such a flattering light. A tear tricked down Rose's cheek. Because that person who stood out…

… was herself.

Memoriesshatteredintothousandsandthousandandthousandandthousandsandthousandsofpieces

The Doctor was alive. Because he could feel the pain. And that, he concluded, was all that mattered.

The fact remained that he could not feel anything apart from it. No body, no eyes, no nose, no feet, no toes.

Well, the Doctor had never approved of the last on that list anyway. Who needed toes? If there was one thing the Doctor would have different about his humanoid regenerations, it was those goddamn awful sticky out things on the end of his feet. Terrible. Simply absurd.

But he could see. The essence of the Doctor looked out upon the scene before himself with no difficulty whatsoever. Come to think of it, if this was the quality of his vision without those annoying eyeballs, why bother with them either? He was always getting flies in them. They hurt. Not to mention eyelashes. And the Doctor had them, much to his regret. Eyelashes, eyeballs, and toes. Why had he never noticed how cumbersome they were before?

Oh well, he thought, better focus on what's happened to me.

The moment he thought that, the pain tripled and if he could have yelled out, he would have. The next time he opened his eyes, he could see again, but it wasn't so much of a welcoming sight, because he saw the source of his pain in all its glory. And if this was glory, then it was pretty pathetic.

A feminine, quavering voice issued from the source of golden light that was the creature. Then the light receded, and the Doctor saw what looked like an oversized insect, almost like a scorpion but bigger, more fluid, and with wings. A parasite of some sort.

Your name is the Doctor.

The Doctor had no mouth to talk back with. But that didn't stop him responding.

I know that, thanks. Greetings first. Who are you?

I have no name.

Aw, that's a bit sad, don't you think? And I mean that in both senses.

You are powerful, Doctor. Ancient and nutritious. The history, the wisdom, the knowledge. These are great assets to me. Sources of power. Surrender yourself to me. Let me through…

No, ta. Why is it power that it always comes down to, eh? Why? I mean, it was scary the first time I ever heard someone say that, but after about the thousandth time, it's gets so boring; so repetitive. You know, one day I might actually enjoy the day when an alien comes up with a plot that's original.

I need you to sustain me, Doctor. This is my way of survival, and if you will not surrender yourself, then I must take apart your mind by force.

The Doctor thought of Rose aboard the TARDIS, and wondered what was happening. If she was confused. Well, that was inevitable. He wondered what she was doing; if, he did ever return to reality, if she would be safe. If the Doctor could have closed his eyes then, he would have.

She'd think of something. He believed in her.

Come on then, he thought, bring it on.

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She crawled her way carefully along the floor of the TARDIS, trying to avoid the glass but uncaring whether she cut her already bloodied fingers. She didn't want to break any more of the thoughts or memories. She remembered something Jack had said; good old Captain Jack; how he had wanted two years worth of his memories back. No one deserved having them taken away.

He was there, too. Jack. He obviously had a place in the Doctor's heart, too.

She wasn't concentrating on the splinters of glass that had her face in. She saw that image every time she looked in the mirror –

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- anyway.

But she paused, just for a second, above one memory in vivid detail. It was a wonder she had found it, among the thousands of splinters scattered upon the floor. A memory she, too, possessed in sickening detail. Hers was from a different perspective, but the elements were the same.

She saw her hands being torn away from the lever, herself screaming as she was torn away, into the void, to be saved by her parallel father. Then she saw something she had never seen before, after the void closed up.

He walked up to the white wall and put a hand against it, pressed his face against the wall and looked sorrowfully into the nothingness.

Rose remembered something, too. A memory from seven, almost eight years ago, when she thought she sensed something in the wall and tried to press herself into it, while she cried.

Rose dropped the shard of glass and let it fall from her hand. Her palm was a map of small cuts where she'd gripped the glass too hard. She tried to think again. It would take her hours to find the Doctor in his present state. She hit her head with her hand angrily.

Why glass?

Why were the scattered thoughts and the memories represented in the form of shards of glass? Why were they there at all? Rose remembered something, the pain she'd experienced before it had happened, as if something was cutting inside her head. Some kind of creature living in there, perhaps, biting through things, trying to gain access to her thoughts?

It was a wild theory, based only on what she had felt. But it was all she had, and she could only presume that this was the thing that had broken the Doctor.

Broken him, quite literally.

Now her senses were clearer, refined by the urgency in her head as the shock she had first experienced ebbed away. She was the old Rose again, and she was thinking. Thinking like the Doctor. Maybe, just maybe, she could make him come back so he could congratulate her.

Somehow, Rose had to fix him. Fix all the pieces together. Every piece was like a mirror, reflecting the thoughts. She needed a board, a support so she could stack the pieces up, try and make them fit together. It didn't matter about the shape. Just how they fitted together.

It could take her years. Long years.

But then again, she wasn't alone. Because the TARDIS was always there to help.

Rose stepped her way carefully through the mess, that did not show her reflection at all. Just the people shouting, the people dying, the people smiling, the planets being. And after that, she ran. Picked up what she needed on the second floor and brought it back up to the main room. And then she picked up the hammer by the console that the Doctor sometimes randomly hit the control panel with, put it over her shoulder for maximum impact while shielding her eyes with the other, and then hit the mirror with full force. The fragments exploded into the air, some of them cutting into her skin, and then the ordinary mirror Rose had smashed was broken, no glass left inside its rim.

"Seven years bad luck," she muttered to herself as she inspected the floor. And then she glared. "I paid in advance," was her growl as she fumbled on the floor for a piece of glass. Any piece of glass.

On the control panel was a tube of glue she had grabbed in her journey to the second floor of the TARDIS. It seemed ridiculous, but it was entirely real.

Rose Tyler was going to glue the Doctor back together again.

With the help of the TARDIS.

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The consciousness of the Doctor was experiencing unbelievable pain. If he could have doubled up in pain, he would have. But he was allowed no such consolation, as the merciless probes of the alien creature penetrated his mind. Or tried to.

I'm… not letting… you in there… !

How long will you hold out, though, Doctor? Just how strong is that mind of yours?

Strong enough.

He hoped he meant that.

But it was hysterically funny, or it was in the situation, because the Doctor felt as if bits of him were slowly but surely coming together. Old memories that he'd forgotten about being bonded to his feeble consciousness, and they strengthened the stronghold in his head. He just had to hold out…

Patienceisavirtuepatienceisavirtuepatienceisavirtuepatienceisavirtuepatienceisavirtue

Rose held the tube of TESCOS superglue between her teeth and fixed another piece of glass to the mirror. Anything with a straight edge, which went for most of the conveniently straight edges, was bonded together in a higgledy-piggledy mess upon the old mirror. It looked like a bad piece of modern art… which, then again, probably meant most modern art.

She didn't know if this was working. But she was going to try, if it took her a week. Or a month. Or even a year.

She'd had seven years to get him back, and she wasn't going to let him go so easily.

Author's Note: If you don't understand the glass stuff, it will be explained later in one of my ridiculously over the top manners, but hey, that's how we like them. I hope this chapter had an equal share of humour and anxiety, seeing as I found the fact that the Doctor is being glued back together quite funny, and I only realised after I'd read it through when editing. I hoped you like it too, and the best way to tell me, would be to –ahem- of course, to review!

Well, until I can access the computer to write the next chapter, here's from me,

StrangePrinciples

(I would write a thanks here but I don't actually know who has reviewed, seeing as I can't get onto the internet. So I'll save that till next chapter. Sorry!)

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