Author's Note: I just re-read If I could Just Touch Your World Upon a Whisper and I nearly died at how many typos were in there. I'm SO SORRY! I hate typos with a passion, because my computer isn't typo sensitive so it doesn't TELL me these things. Guess it just goes to show that I need to proof read my story SEVERAL times before posting it on fan fic. Lesson learnt!

Meanwhile, I'm still in my secluded cottage right now, so I'll wait till I get home before posting the next author's note. But I'll write as much of this chapter as I hope I can and who knows, maybe you'll be treated to two new chapters instead of one when I finally get back!

Also, one final note. There is going to be quite a lot more to this story, and it may be over 5 chapters, but that's what I'm aiming for. And don't worry, not all of it is fixed on this rather worrisome dilemma we have on our hands now!

My phone just beeped with a reminder. 5 MORE DAYS TILL MY BIRTHDAY! WHOO! I'll save you some cake. Meanwhile, Radish Earrings, I need to talk to you on urgent business concerning a birthday party  (All the rest of you are invited to come in spirit!)

The TARDIS floor

Now the mirror grew larger, the memories inside it growing lesser; sometimes they all merged together until it was just one large image upon the glass. Rose knew that the Doctor didn't want anyone knowing about his past. Not in the detail that was splayed before her. So she didn't look. She kept her eyes on the floor, tube of glue working away. The hilarity of the situation was extreme. Who would've thought that for once their places would change, and she would be saving the Doctor?

However, Rose was sure that had it been him saving her, he would not be standing in front of a board with a tube of glue in his hand.

Rose was ignoring the small pieces of glass upon the floor; she'd concentrate on those later. The sticky mess upon the board mainly consisted of the larger pieces of glass; the more important memories. The fact remained she was running out of them, and soon she'd have to concentrate on the smaller ones. The mess upon the old broken mirror's back board was about two hundred fragments large now, and it had taken Rose at least an hour and a half to achieve such a feat. But she'd work away until it was finished.

Fumbling with the glass upon the floor, she moved onto the smaller shards, eyes fixed with concentration as her hand squeezed out the remaining glue onto each flat side.

For ten minutes, she solely concentrated on this. And then she looked down again, to find the next bit of glass; and she saw something that made her shiver. And that something had been the thing that had dwelled inside her mind, eating, biting; tearing. Somewhere in Rose's head she guessed that. So she took it up in her hands that were red with carelessness, and glued it upon the mirror board. And the vision changed from an old memory to the picture that had been upon the fragment of glass.

She couldn't see the Doctor, just the parasite; the insect that suddenly, she knew had been in her head. But she could feel him, even just watching, she could almost see him. Was that him? That swirl of unimaginable colours? Or was she just imagining it? Either way, the ball of rainbows and beauty seemed to be losing in a war against the parasite.

Somewhere in her heart, Rose knew it was the Doctor. In the present. Fighting it out.

He needed her help. For every shard she put upon the mirror he grew stronger, and for every shard she forgot to put on, the insect made progress.

Now, Rose really didn't care about the scratches and cuts upon her blood-ridden hands. She collected every shard in site, looked back up at the glass. She couldn't help touching it, wanting to help.

The new tube of TESCOS superglue was out and at work, but one hand stayed on the image briefly before allowing itself to be swallowed by concentration.

"Doctor…"

Everythingcomestogethereverythingcomestogethereverythingcomestogethereverythingcomestogether

Agony was a thing of the past now, because it had been taken over, swallowed by a pain so excruciating the Doctor felt like he was dying. He knew he wasn't. Common sense told him that much. But he knew if this carried on much longer, then it would.

Somehow, he had to stop it from getting in.

That was when he felt it. Something besides the hot knives stabbing from every direction. As if something was reaching into the scene of battle, touching his soul. And the voice after that, he heard it to. Faintly. It gave him strength.

"Doctor…"

And suddenly, by some unearthly force – maybe the TARDIS, maybe Rose's strength –

YourMirrorImageYourMirrorImageYourMirrorImageYourMirrorImageYourMirrorImage

- he saw her image. Rose Tyler with a tube of superglue between her teeth, on the floor of the TARDIS, scattered with glass and bits of his life; jumbled up and mislaid upon the ground. Her hands were bloody and fumbling for different shards.

It was a vision he only got to see for a second.

The hilarity of the situation caught him, and for a moment, all agony ceased. He knew she'd think of something. But that wasn't quite what he'd had in mind.

The Doctor took what seemed all of his energy at that painless moment, and he threw himself towards the ethereal insect. If he'd had hands he would have grappled with him. Fleetingly, amidst the pain that ensued, the Doctor wondered what had happened to his body.

No time to think about that.

It was attack, or be devoured.

Maybe several days ago; maybe a week, the Doctor would have gone for the second option.

But this was the present. And right now, he was looking at life in a much more favourable light.

The screams of pain weren't just coming from his mind anymore…

TurningTheHourGlassRunningOutofTimeHoursPassedHurryBeforeItsTooLateSandGushingTimeRunningOut

Rose's eyes opened, and for a blissful second she was in bed, savouring the last moments of sleep like she so enjoyed. And then reality came crashing down and Rose realised, eyes widening, that she had fallen asleep at one of the most critical points in the Doctor's… existence. Panicking, she looked around at the TARDIS. It was becoming lighter within, and the glass on the floor was still there.

Rose stopped.

She stared.

The glass no longer had flickering memories and dreams in it. It was…just glass. There were few pieces there now; many more were stuck to the mirror in the jumbled mess. But there was something wrong about that, too, because Rose walked up to it. And it had no memories inside. Instead… she just saw her own face. Staring in disbelief and confusion and loss.

Where had he gone?

Darknessrollinginnowthemirrorseesallseesyouclosinginsuffocatingwherehaveyougonecomebacktome

Darkness. Black. Nothing.

The lament of the TARDIS rang out in space, in every universe imaginable. She felt the loss of her Time Lord, the temporary absence of his faithful companion, and the TARDIS felt alone. The girl slept with exhaustion. The Doctor fought a battle that in his state, both he, and the TARDIS knew, he could not win.

Her heart opened.

Literally.

The glass on the floor scattered, and the memories and images winked out as everything, every thought, every bit of consciousness was sucked within her soul in remorse. The Doctor's thoughts, his regenerations, every bit of him that made him… him… was taken in to her as the TARDIS grieved what she thought was the loss of the last Time Lord.

But the TARDIS wasn't always right.

After all, it was ancient. More knowledgeable than the Doctor, perhaps.

And more often than anything, he was wrong.

Darknessstillrollingintakingyouawaysleepforevermoregoldenlightdesiststhedeadstaydeadandwemustwait

"I'm dead," said the Doctor incredulously. "You killed me."

And he knew it was true, because the Doctor was always right. Which wasn't true at all.

It was dark, wherever he was. Unnaturally dark. Worryingly dark. Several "if"s and "but"s ran through his head at this stage. Until he realised one thing that he had thought impossible as he had attacked that strange, parasitical alien.

Thoughts ran through his head.

The Doctor had a head.

Which could only sensibly conclude in the fact that he must have a body, as well.

"HAH!" He cried, waving arms that he actually possessed around. He took it all back. He loved his eyes and his toes and his eyelashes. Well, maybe not those. But wherever he was, the Doctor realised that he was back. Just one problem.

He didn't remember defeating the insect.

So that could only mean it was in his body, with him.

"Natch," he said glumly. And tried to move.

The air around him rippled, like it might when he touched the surface of water, like he wanted to distort his reflection or something of the like.

That was when the Doctor's huge, superglue fixed brain, realised point number two. That the only way he could get out of the…no place… was for the gateway to be opened from the other way, too. After all, a door wouldn't always open after you unlocked one side. There was the other lock to be considered, on the other. The one that, in previous bodies, he had never been able to reach. Some doors were pretty tall.

So the Doctor unwillingly crossed his legs calmly and decided that his only way out was to play the waiting game on Rose. She had to find the gateway sometime soon.

MirrorsAreEverywhereCanYouSeeTheM?PassthroughintotheotherworldbetheSALVATION

Rose looked at the console blankly, not knowing what to do. She was back at square one, when hopelessness gripped her and all she could feel was her own desolate thoughts swimming about in her head. The monitor was on and she looked at it, not really seeing much. It showed outside, just as starry, just as dusty, as it had been before. A bit like her thoughts, mixed up inside her head. Stumbling over each other to get her main attention. But all were centred around one thing; the sense of loss and anger with herself.

She sat down on the sofa and laid her head against the arm rest. Her eyes were heavy and not to mention wet. She hadn't bothered to put plasters on her hands and now they hurt.

She was tired again, but she didn't want to sleep.

She just wanted to escape from reality, just for a bit.

She was walking around the TARDIS console numbly. Her thoughts were coming together now. The question was still there, unanswered. Where had he gone? But there were others that she thought she knew the answer to.

Why glass? Because Rose Tyler couldn't have understood anything else. If she'd seen individual thoughts upon the floor then it could have only been confusing. So the thoughts of the Doctor, being their own consciousness, had taken on a form that she could understand. At least, something she was familiar with, anyway. That was her theory.

What had happened? Rose had been infected by a parasite. An evil she could have picked up from anywhere, but maybe it had been the black hole. Maybe, when she travelled through, she had picked up more than she had bargained for. But it hadn't wanted her. It had wanted the Doctor. And from her thoughts, it had grown stronger, until it could pass through, into him, completely and with ease. The Doctor had protected himself against it. Maybe he had always intended to take it on without a body. Maybe he had done that just so the insect would never find or feast on his thoughts. Because while they were scattered glass, in reality, the parasite could not reach them.

It made sense.

What didn't make sense was the fact that Rose didn't know what had happened or where he had gone – what she could do to help.

Glass crunched underneath her feet, but it was blank glass. The kind of stuff that might lie lifelessly upon the floor after a window is shattered. Useless. No help at all, and definitely no consolation.

Rose put her hands against the console and looked into the main pillar of the TARDIS, wondering what the hell she should do – how to get him back. Because she wasn't leaving; she wasn't going anywhere, and even if she could –

"Roooooose…"

The whining sound issued from somewhere in the TARDIS. It sounded bored. It sounded… familiar.

"What?" She said aloud, turning around, trying to find the root of it.

"Rooooose, I'm bored."

"Doctor?"

"That's the one. Mind hurrying up?"

Rose hit her head, but the voice was definitely there. She wasn't just imagining things. She'd thought the whole thing had been a dream but there it was; it was real. And so was the voice, because she could hear it clearly now, issuing out of the mirror.

She reached out to touch the solid surface – and her fingers slid through like they might do with water. The surface rippled and her face lay distorted with each small wave. It wasn't a mirror anymore. It was…

…a gateway?

Rose looked around, reached onto the console for the sonic screwdriver, which she pocketed, just in case, and slid through the surface of the long dressing mirror which was crudely stuck together by her hand.

She stepped into darkness.

But she wasn't alone. A smile spread across her face as she helped him up.

"Took your time!"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

To be continued next chapter

Author's Note: Okay, so the Doctor still has a great big insect to deal with, a few riddles to solve, people to save (I told you this wasn't just the main plotline), and a few things he has to do for Rose. All in a day's work. Meanwhile, Nat, PICK UP THE PHONE! And if you're on holiday… well… enjoy it and then… PICK UP THE PHONE! Check your messages!