A/N: Next chapter! Again, mostly done at work, where things are now slow after a crazy month. I'm sure I'll pay for all this "off" time with more madness in July.

My co-workers probably think I've gone nuts thanks to the goofy grin I've been walking around with this afternoon in between paragraphs. This chapter was fun to write. Not really what I expected to happen here, but the Muse leads and I just follow.

Thanks to those who have reviewed so far. Kind words are manna for the soul.

Do I really have to re-state the obvious? I don't own any of this. Not the Doctor, not Rose, not the TARDIS, not Cinderella, none of it. All I've got is an overactive imagination.

Enjoy!

Hold On To Life

By

Lariel Romeniel

Chapter Three – Ghosts and Glass Slippers

Before leaving them, Tremas asked them to meet him at his home, and gave them directions. They would go to the ball together from there.

The Doctor and Rose climbed back up the stairs to the top of the cliff. "So, darling?" Rose asked with an arched eyebrow. How did she manage to ask a dozen questions in just two words?

"I knew them. Or…they will know me," he answered. "In my fourth life, Tremas will become an ally, and then an enemy. Nyssa will grow up to become a companion to the fifth me."

"Oh." Rose's face became somber. "Tremas seems so…so nice. He changed, then?"

The Doctor snorted. "You could say that. His body will be stolen by a renegade Time Lord called the Master, leaving Nyssa an orphan."

"The poor little thing!"

Old fury was rising to the surface. "That's not the half of it, Rose. Remember I told you that Traken would be destroyed by entropy? The Master was to blame. And Nyssa watched it happen," he growled. He thought he'd buried the memories long ago. But today they were still raw and bleeding.

Rose saw the burning in his eyes and shuddered at the intensity. "That's…that's horrible."

"It gets worse. The Master also killed Nyssa's stepmother. Ah, Nyssa!" He stopped suddenly and buried his face in his hands. Rose watched him for a moment as his thin frame shook, and then she wrapped her arms around him until the trembling ceased and the anger drained away. He pulled back, raked his fingers through his hair and met her eyes.

"Sorry, Rose. When I think about that happy child and the things she'll go through, losing her family, her people, her world," he tilted his head back to look at the sky, let out a heavy breath and looked back down at her. "It was just too much for a moment."

Rose laid a hand on the side of his face. "Don't worry about it, Doctor. I'm here for you. Remember? I'm your hand to hold." He smiled weakly and laid his hand over hers. "What happened to Nyssa?" she asked. His expression changed to one of pride. "She became strong, Rose. One of the bravest people I've ever met. She survived."

"Then you did all that you could, Doctor. You know you can't change any of it."

She had learned so much. Now he was proud of her. He sighed and lifted her hand away from his face, giving it a gentle squeeze before releasing it. "Thank you, Rose. Come on. We have a party to get ready for!"

He became cheery again as they continued back down the footpath. "So, what do you wear to a Consular Installation Ball?" Rose asked.

"Hmmm, well," he drawled, thinking. "It's not an event that happens very often. See, Traken has just five Consuls who make the laws for the whole of the Traken Union. They're appointed for life by the Keeper."

"The Keeper? Is that like a royal?"

"More than that," he answered. How to explain it to her? "Imagine the Queen, the Archbishop of Canterbury and Merlin the Magician all rolled into one person, with the power of millions of minds at his disposal. That's the Keeper of Traken. Royal and holy and utterly responsible for everything and everyone in the Union. Each one rules for a thousand years and actually maintains the physical order of the Traken Union. The Consuls act as intermediaries between him and the people."

"And there are only five of them, each appointed for life?"

He nodded. "Right. But a life of only about a hundred years. So one Keeper could have dozens of Consuls serving during his reign. Still, I think you can see just how rare these balls are. No wonder people are here from many worlds. Its not often you get to meet a potential future Keeper."

"So the Keepers are chosen from amongst the Consuls? And they get…changed somehow to live a thousand years?"

"That's really oversimplifying it…" he faltered at her sudden glower. Apparently she didn't want the full version of the history and culture of Traken. All right, lecture over. "But, basically right! So, this is a really big event!" They'd reached the TARDIS. He ushered her inside. "Definitely an evening for pulling out all the stops, Cinderella!"

She giggled at him. "Right down to the glass slippers?"

He frowned. "No, not that. I'd be afraid of stepping on your toes!" He began ticking off the possibilities. "I step on your toes, and then the glass breaks and cuts up your feet. And I have to carry you off," she shrieked a little in surprise as he suddenly swept her up bridal style, twirled her around the console and forged on, "find someplace to treat your injuries, probably miss half the ball and you're left standing there, a barefoot Cinderella. So, no glass slippers." He looked down into her dancing eyes. "What?"

She was barely controlling her giggling. "Um, do you mind?"

"Oh!" He set her back down on her feet. "All right. No glass slippers! Besides, we're going to have to walk a bit to get there, and I don't think you'd be able to walk very far in glass slippers."

"What, we can't just move the TARDIS closer?" she asked.

"I don't dare," he replied with a shake of his head. "Someone might see her and then remember her down the line when my fourth self gets here. No telling what might happen if that happens." He began to pace around the console, speaking quickly to try to keep up with his quicksilver thoughts. "If that happens, then all that business with the Master in the Melkur might not happen and Traken might not be swallowed up by entropy and my fourth regeneration might not happen. So the Great London Fire might not happen, but the Terileptil plague might just happen. That wouldn't be good. Hmm. My other regenerations might not happen either. But then again.."

He stopped suddenly in front of her with a gasp and a wide eyed look. He grabbed her shoulders firmly and pulled her up and toward him so they were almost nose to nose. "The Time War might not happen!"

He kept her on tiptoe for a brief moment as he pondered the implications. Then he shook his head, released her and took off pacing, his mind racing again. "No. It would be nice for all those terrible things not to happen, but if they don't happen then my eighth regeneration won't happen and we won't happen, and I don't know about you, Rose, but I'd rather for all those things to happen than for that not to happen." He stopped pacing and looked at her. "What?"

She was leaning against the console for support, bubbling over with laughter that left her unable to speak. He'd lost her somewhere around the Melkur. From there she'd just let the words wash over her so she could watch his mind work. She knew he was being perfectly serious, but his mannerism was just too much. He raised an eyebrow. "Was I prattling on again?" She nodded and struggled to bring herself under control. "Well. Still. No glass slippers and no moving the TARDIS."

"Cinderella in sensible shoes," grumbled Rose, her laughter finally muted. Suddenly she hiccupped. "And hiccups!" Hic! "You made me laugh so much I got hiccups!" Hic!

"Pull hard on your tongue, Rose."

"You daft?" Hic!

"No, I'm a doctor! Pull hard on your tongue!" he told her, stepping closer and looking her straight in the eyes. "It stimulates the vagus nerve that runs from your brain to your stomach and alleviates the hiccups."

She stared at him as if he were mad. Hic hic! He tutted at her. "Well, go on, do it! Doctor's orders!"

With a glare that clearly said I can't believe I'm doing this, she stuck her tongue out, grasped it firmly and pulled. "Ow! That hurt!"

"But the hiccups are gone," he replied, tilting his head with a cocked eyebrow and his index finger pointed in the air.

She furrowed her brow, looked down and stood still, staring at the grating under her feet to center herself for a moment, then another. She looked up at him, incredulous. "They are! They're all gone!"

He crossed his arms and rocked back and forth, heel to toe, toe to heel, looking very satisfied with himself. "Told you. I'm a doctor!"

She smirked at him. "Smug one, you are! But I'm still stuck with sensible shoes."

He smiled. "Rose, I think you can trust the TARDIS wardrobe to do better than that for you! Go on. Meet me back here in, say, 30 minutes?"

"Be real!" she huffed. "Ninety minutes at least!"

"Forty-five."

"An hour!"

"Done!" he said with a grin. She looked at him suspiciously. "Doctor, can I trust the TARDIS wardrobe to do well for you too?"

He looked wounded. "I thought you trusted me, Rose!"

"With my life, yes! But to get dressed properly for a fancy ball? I'm not so sure."

He smiled. "Go on, Cinderella," he said gently. "Clock's ticking. One hour."

A/N: The hiccup cure comes from