A/N: Not much of a note here. Going to be a pretty angsty chapter… sorry:) So… enjoy!

Rose had never been so terrified in her life; not of her Doctor. Not of her wonderful, fantastic, larger than life Doctor. She'd never been so terrified of hurting him, never been so terrified that maybe she'd done something that cut so deep time may never heal it; but it was more than that. She'd never been so terrified of the Doctor himself. Never been so terrified at what he might do.

The face surpassed bitterness, twisting slowly and yet taking less than a nanosecond, it seemed, to change into the angry mask that was so often used in the presence of danger. The kind of face the Doctor had once used to confront evil-doers and crazed geniuses, the face he used with people who had put her in danger. It was so out of character for the Doctor, as a whole, that that in itself terrified Rose out of her wits.

But nothing happened. He stood back from the console with an impossible glare in his eyes, staring her down. Looking at her like there was so much he wanted to yell and scream about, and yet, he either couldn't, or wouldn't make himself do it. The effect of his stare without words was enough for Rose to feel unnerved, maybe for the first time ever in his presence.

And then he turned away.

It was funny. Because she knew at once that she had been dismissed.

Her eyes burned with unshed tears as she slowly navigated her way to her reoccupied room. The question that remained was whether he meant that as a permanent dismissal.

She wiped her eyes. It didn't help the hollow feeling that spread through her being, withering even her soul.

Your.Reflection.Is.Perfection.Yet.Reality.Shows.A.Monster.

The Doctor, or the memories inside him, burned. It couldn't be said he was the Doctor at that moment. His memories and feelings had existed on their own for long enough to know and feel independence; to get used to it while they were glued back together by the ever-wonderful Rose's hands. They seethed, burning away any strand of the Doctor's grip on sanity as they acted, almost of their own accord.

Or maybe it wasn't them. Maybe it was the darkness that inevitably dwelled in him. Or maybe he just wouldn't face the truth. Maybe it was him. Him with those glaring eyes that must have terrified Rose into running away.

She'd never done that before. Never turned from him with that fear in her eyes. Never run away; because he had heard her footsteps sound against the floor panels of the TARDIS. Quickening as she got further away from him.

What had she said? What had her offence been?

Caring too much. Being gracious; being honest. Being inquisitive. Being worried about his hurts. Being Rose.

And suddenly, this overwhelming feeling of horror at how cold he had been overwhelmed whatever had risen in him before; and for all his fury at himself the Doctor picked up a hammer and let it fly across the control room until it connected with the central column of the TARDIS. There was a deafening crash as glass of all shapes and sizes rained down on him; but not glass. It was part of the TARDIS and therefore it couldn't be. So it couldn't cut him, couldn't hurt him, he told himself as it rained about his shoulders. The TARDIS wouldn't let it; after all, it was a part of her being. And she would never hurt the Doctor.

That was what he told himself, even as the cuts appeared on his face and hands.

Reality.Is.Your.Choice.You.Choose.Your.Own.Reflection.

For some reason, Rose Tyler was shaken to the bone like she had never been before. Not even when she'd been alone in a dimension without him had she felt the tremors like she was experiencing now. The heart break had been worse. But the fright, the terror…

The Doctor, loathing her? It was the scariest thought she'd ever had to suffer.

It was only when she had to lean against one of the walls of the corridor she had hid down that she realised she'd been running from him. Running – from the Doctor. It had been so little time since a blissful reunion, and already Rose was scared – scared that the dream might end. Scared that he wouldn't want her anymore.

After seven years of feverishly wishing and dreaming that they might be reunited one day, the fact that he might not want to travel with her anymore just because of some bug was enough to make her heart miss a beat.

It was no wonder the tears sprung from her eyes, coursing down her face in hot streaks.

And then she heard the splintering sound of glass being broken; and then a monumental crash. She flinched when she heard it, but she knew that it wasn't near her and anything, anything that the Doctor was doing couldn't hurt her. Not if she hid.

And then, when he'd got over whatever had made him ill, she'd be with him again.

So she opened the door closest to her and stepped inside. Just a normal bedroom, one she had never seen before. But one where she was free to slump on the bed and think. And let the black stained tears leave small streams upon the clean pillow's surface.

Her mind moved back to what she'd seen in the Doctor; unwillingly, she had to say – but nevertheless, when it had happened, she hadn't shoved the memories away from her either. She guessed she didn't deserve his trust.

It was stupid to ask how he coped. And his reaction was inevitable.

And she knew she had ruined everything.

Her hand clenched into a tight ball, and the cuts on her palm opened up and red rivers were added to the black upon the pristine white sheets. Cuts where she had bled for him. Toiled to get him back to her. Sacrificed her own memories and privacy to help him fight off a life threatening parasite.

But none of that mattered now, because whether she had done those things or not, now she had done something wrong. And she was suffering for it.

Why.Does.This.World.Of.Mirrors.Always.Lead.Me.To.You

The TARDIS was angry. She couldn't talk her anger away to anyone, and she couldn't do anything short of completely locking him out to show it; and that was one step she was unwilling to take. She was the vessel of pure strength that outshone even the Doctor, the only living creature who shared his memories and felt his pain. But even she could not understand, in her vast brain, in that ancient consciousness, why her lone companion was acting so terribly. He was almost savage; that gleam in his eyes.

She was telepathic and she shared in both their memories, and the sudden hostility that had risen in him was enough to scare the living daylights out of anyone. And Rose wasn't easily scared; that was her charm. Rose never lost it completely. Never let the Doctor be alone unless she was physically prevented – and so for her to run away, the TARDIS knew that something was wrong. She knew it because she could feel it like never before.

But she couldn't do anything about it.

That is, until the hammer connected with her central column. And then she let the glass rain down on the Doctor like a whirlwind of deadly hail. She let it cut it into him and hoped in her fragile existence that he realised what she thought.

Having no voice was something the TARDIS was not remorseful of. She looked out on space and that was joy enough; she sang, and she revelled in the conversation shared between Rose and the Doctor.

With only the Doctor life could only be described as… lonely. She loved him. But when he had lost Rose he was lonely. And because of that, she was, too.

So not only did she love Rose, she needed her. The Doctor did, too.

And she did the only thing she could do and went as far as she was willing to go; and for once in her life, deliberately hurt him.

The song changed in space, and time. If you listened carefully, wherever you were; whatever universe, whatever planet – even in different dimensions, you would have been able to hear the lullaby of the TARDIS change. The beautiful lament got raucous; the sounds, incomprehensible to alien ears, began to shriek in terrible discord to the night sky.

But even if you couldn't understand it, you would've known something was wrong. And if you were wise you would have hidden away, and hoped that the source of that noise didn't make an arrival anywhere near you in the future.

Because the TARDIS was angry like she had never been before, and she was screaming to the stars.

You.Everywhere.In.My.reflection.In.Every.Mirror.I.Only.See.your.Face.

The Doctor stood in a control room with no feeling in it. No feeling reserved for him, anyway. Just coldness. As if all the presence of the TARDIS had gone and no longer wanted anything to do with him. Which was bad enough; but it wasn't just the presence of the TARDIS that was missing. Normally this other anonymous presence was always there, wherever she was, even when she wasn't in the TARDIS. The smell lingered on, one of those modern perfumes she was addicted to and had made him buy only a day ago; and yet, nothing in it reminded him of her.

The control room was absent without both of them.

Memories flashed in his head, but he knew they weren't his. They weren't his property; stolen from someone else's mind in his bid for freedom from his parasitical captor. At least, even if they were his memories, he had no right to see them from her perspective. No right at all.

Sometimes, when she got into bed in her baggy pyjamas that the old Rose, the one that was always out to impress boys, would never have worn a couple of years ago, she reflected on what had happened. How she had been chosen out of all the people, all those billions of candidates in the universe, to have the trip of a lifetime with the man of a lifetime. Sometimes, she smiled to herself and felt pride, because she knew she was brave. And sometimes she denied it and was completely at a loss as to why it had been her. But the thought that slipped her mind most of all, was that she was lucky. And if she ever did have a night where she'd go to bed properly instead of falling asleep in the control room, which was a lot less common than the latter, this thought would produce a contentment so deep she fell asleep instantly.

Flash

This time she was in the TARDIS. She was enraged and angry, but when you stripped that exterior away you found the anguished Rose inside. But above all else, even through the remorse and the anguish that boiled within, she was desperate. Desperate to get back to the man she loved, and the man who was going to die if she wasn't there. Maybe they'd both die, even if she was there. But that didn't matter; not now. She'd risk anything. Do anything. She just wanted him back.

She wasn't going to not be there to hold his hand. Even he needed that. Even he couldn't deny her that.

Flash

For a moment the man just mouthed useless words. For a moment, none of it made sense at all, because her mind was clouded with incoherent thoughts that were in turmoil inside her head, each delivering the same message and yet, there were so many thoughts to be listened to at the same time, she was too deafened to hear them.

And then the truth of what he was saying sunk in. Her reply was ready even before she had thought of an appropriate answer.

"…We're leaving."

She was ready for that. Suddenly, all the thoughts in her head became clear. They waited their turn to be heard and in a blink of a second she processed every worried whisper in her mind. And she let them out, through word of mouth. Three, small words, defining all her feelings.

"I'm not going."

She was adamant. But the Captain's face darkened stubbornly. He had his own ideas.

"Rose, there's space for you."

"No. I'm gonna wait for the Doctor… just like he waited for me." Her voice quivered a bit, as the shock lingered on and slowly diminished, and the realisation kicked in. She couldn't understand what she was feeling because she'd never took the time to admit it before. Never told him what she felt – never told anyone. And maybe that meant she couldn't believe it, not quite. Not yet.

Then the Captain, Zach – and she knew him from another universe, too, but this was the Zach she so clearly remembered – let his face soften. For a moment, he really did look remorseful, and his words were possibly meant to lend comfort – or his expression. But Rose only saw poison come from his mouth.

"You don't know him, 'cause he's not," she said, voice trembling even more, but she didn't care what state she was in; just so long as they got the message. "I'm telling you he's… he's not… and even if he was, how could I leave him? All on his own, all the way down there?" She meant every word. She paused for a moment, and another wave of realisation overcame her. But she carried on; it was important for them to get the point. "No… I'm gonna stay."

Because she would never abandon him. She needed them to know that she really didn't care about being stuck in a flat-packed wardrobe that was full of possessed Ood, on a planet that might be sucked into a black hole, as long as she was waiting for the Doctor. As long as there was a hope that he might return, and even if he didn't, she wanted to really show that she was prepared to stick with him until the end and beyond. Because if there wasn't a Doctor… there wasn't anything in life. Not one…

He stopped it there. Stopped the memories as he opened his eyes and looked around with a crystal clarity that hadn't been there before. He'd seen things inside her head that he had never imagined could have happened. Who would have thought she would say all those things, feel them?

He realised the sad truth. Everyone had known but him.

As he looked around the TARDIS console he saw the shattered glass and put a hand on one of the controls, looking remorsefully around.

"I'm sorry, old girl," he said. And the TARDIS hummed; but only for a second. Then the control room was quiet again, but the silence held no tranquillity. The Doctor knew what this meant, and he knew what the TARDIS meant. She wasn't the one he needed to apologise to. She wasn't the one who was in pain.

The Doctor dismissed all the glass that scattered the floor (after all, by this time, glass on the floor of the TARDIS seemed to be a permanent fixture), and went running to find something much more precious, and much more fragile, than any glass around.

Reflections.Mimic.Each.Other.But.Reality.Shows.The.Monster.Within

Rose opened her eyes. She hadn't been sleeping. Just thinking.

Thinking about how the Doctor had abandoned her once before. Run off to save a wealthier, prettier woman. Thinking about how she'd forgiven him instantly. About how he'd once yelled at her for being a stupid ape, just like all the others. How she'd forgiven him. How he'd changed. How she'd grown accustomed. How he'd been so willing to let her go at TORCHWOOD before she forced herself back upon him. How she'd forgiven him. How he'd never been able to say three little words and how she'd been able to say them to him. How she'd had her heart broken.

Thinking about how he'd yelled for her as her hands had been ripped from the lever; how he'd burned up a sun to say good bye to her; how he'd always had the faith in her to solve a mystery just as well as him, and how he sometimes just turned around and smiled and told her she was fantastic – completely out of the blue.

The good times with the Doctor vanquished the bad times, even if they didn't outweigh them or outnumber them.

She had to find him. Tell him she was sorry. Say anything at all; pack her bags even though now she only owned what remnants she had brought with her and some of the things she'd left behind so long ago, and the TARDIS had kept them for longer than she had ever, so they might as well be the machines. She'd leave. She'd even make that sacrifice so long as he took her apology.

But she'd rather not.

In her heart's heart, she'd rather talk some sense into him; slap him if she must. Stubbornly sit there until he promised to talk.

She came out of the room, uncaring to whether she had blood all down her arms or black eyes. And she started walking back towards the control room.

It was as she slowly shut the door, confused as to what she would say or do, that she turned around and met his grave stare.

"I'm sorry, Rose. I'm so sorry."

For a moment she was speechless, too confused with her own apology to register his.

"I… just wanted to say I… I'm sorry for looking," she paused, "I shouldn't have… and if you want me… out, then I'll pack… I'll go…"

For a moment the most stricken expression crossed his features as he just looked at her. A kind of pain in his eyes that looked like he regretted a lot of things. A lot of recent things.

"You're leaving." He said. And that was all.

He said like it was something incredible; something incomprehensible. But that wasn't necessarily in a good way.

"Well," she said – like she was talking to a stranger, of all things; "If you… I mean, I thought you'd want me to go..."

"No," he said abruptly, like the word had forced its way out before he had time to consider what it meant. Then the voice softened. "You know… I did just say I was sorry."

"What for?" Rose was uncertain, like she still didn't know him; like she was testing the ground with her foot lest it gave way.

"Uhm," he said for a moment, face set in concentration; "I think that would be… that would be… acting hostile? Damaging property? Trespassing on the property of Rose Tyler? Not cleansing? Neglecting the fruit bowl too much?"

For a moment Rose couldn't help but forget to stifle one of her breathless laughs; and then his face cracked into a grin as well, and her heart began to beat faster but that wasn't because of worry. She launched herself at him and as always, as he always had been, he was there to catch her in his arms.

"So we're okay?" This time it was him questioning.

Rose smiled from inside the embrace. "Goes without saying."

But.After.All.Whatever.I.Possess.A.reflection.Doesn't.It's.Still.A.Little.Bit.Of.Me

Ten minutes with the sonic screwdriver fixed the central column, while he talked with Rose. Not about what he'd seen, just as she dodged around what she'd experienced in his head. But did that matter? It was only a crease. The Doctor's clothes were full of creases; he didn't mind them. A crease in an otherwise perfect conversation.

Then again, Rose's clothes were hardly ever creased. And Jacqueline Tyler was her mother.

He frowned at her hands, which were criss-crossed with gashes and cuts.

"Where on earth did you get these?"

She smiled, one of those… Rose… smiles. "I was in a bit of hurry with the glue, and I never was good around glass," she said. He smiled and used traced the scars with the sonic screwdriver. They healed up. His own, from the breaking of the central column, weren't that numerous and he'd already got rid of them.

For a while meaningless banter was swapped between both of them but the Doctor knew it wouldn't last. At least this time he'd be ready. And he'd have an answer.

The inevitable came.

"Really, though, Doctor. How… how do you –"

"Cope?"

"That's the one."

"This is where we go back to where we first began," he said, and he couldn't help the resignation in his voice. "C'mon, Rose," he said, pulling a lever, ignoring the central column begin to rattle as it groaned.

"Where are we going?"

"I'm taking you home."

A/N: See what he means next chapter. Thanks all reviewers:) And if you are avid Dt fans you might notice those last two lines being, or being alike to the ones exchanged between David ('casanova'), and Henriet (Laura Fraser) in Casanova.