Unlike before, the man wasn't smiling, but now rage burned in his eyes.

He started toward her, purpose in his step as he closed in on them. He was real, he was not a ghost.

Her eyes widened.

He would hurt her; he would hurt them. She remembered the pain, heard the echoes of the screams; she remembered, but she would not let him touch her now.

With a wild look about the room, she noticed a door further down the hall that was slightly open. Without another thought, she grabbed the Doctor's hand and dashed down the hallway, while the man's steps thundered as he chased them.

"What are you doing!" The Doctor exclaimed but followed her through the door. Once through, she slammed the door shut, just as the man reached to grasp them.

For a moment she listened at the door, listening for any sound of movement.

"What was that all about?" He shouted. She heaved in a shaky breath, her hands trembling as she pushed her back against the door.

"There was a man…" she ground out impatiently, "you didn't see him?"

He shook his head, and let out an exasperated breath.

"No one was there." His voice as taunt with restraint. She had dragged him further away from Clara, further away from saving her.

"He was there, he was real," she insisted, steadying herself on shaky legs, "I knew him, I…"

Killed him, the beast sung and ripped the bastard's eyes out of his little sockets.

The Doctor raised a brow, waiting for her to continue, but she shrugged helplessly

"What you saw wasn't real." He was insistent she was deluded, but she urgently shook her head.

"No," she hissed, "I knew him from before…" she stopped.

"Before what?" He asked.

She ground her jaw, her eyes drifting past him to watch the flickering candles that lined the walls. She saw it then, the door at the very end of the expansive dim hallway, and how the light emitted through the open crack. Ignoring his question, she straightened herself and slipped past the Doctor who huffed in frustration.

"Where are you going now?" He asked, rather annoyed.

"Look," she breathed. She could not say why she was propelled toward the door, but she heard it calling her name, and a sense of calm washed over her. She needed to see what was beyond the door.

A hand latched onto her arm, pulling her back from her trance.

"Can you not hear me?" He said urgently, and she realized he had been calling her for some time.

"What was that?" She gasped. She looked down at her hands and saw her fingers tremble slightly. She had lost control, but not to the beast. It paced about in its cage but remained behind the bars.

"I don't know, but I think we should leave." He paced back quickly to the door they had entered and twisted the handle. It wouldn't move. He tried again but the handle remained unmoved.

He kicked the door and winced in pain.

"Well, it looks like you've trapped us." He ground out through gritted teeth. He leaned on one leg while holding the other, massaging his ankle.

"That man was coming for us…"

He scoffed.

"There was no man," he argued, setting his foot back onto the ground.

She blinked.

"Whatever you saw, it wasn't real."

She said nothing, only continued to stare at him blankly. Unsettled by her stare he continued.

"Even if he was real, why didn't you use your…" he flexed his palm, "flashy thing?"

She looked down at her hands, the hard lines sharpened her face in the dim light.

"It takes up most of my energy. It weakens me every time I use it."

"Ah," he wasn't sure what to say and scratched the back of his head. Her eyes flashed gold and remained to stare at him in that odd way of hers. He glanced down the hall and let out a troubled sigh.

"I suppose the only way is forward," he inclined his head toward the hallway and made a start to move, but she lashed out and gripped his shoulder.

"Wait," she uttered gruffly, "let me go first."

Surprised, but relenting, he let her take the lead.

When they reached the end of the hall, she stopped, her hand raised to open the cracked door.

"He looked so real," she whispered.

"What?"

She turned her face tight in scrutiny.

"He was real. But that isn't possible," she looked at him as if he should have known. Before he could reply she turned back around and opened the door. What they saw surprised them both.

It was a wild rose garden. A sun shone in all its brilliant glory in a blue sky that warmed their skin as they stepped onto the lush green grass. The rose's gleamed with dew drops on their petals, their thorns peeking from beneath their leaves; such dangerous beauties. A gravel pathway wound just ahead of them, disappearing around a large rose bush. And just over the tops of the greenery was what appeared to be old ruins of some structure.

"Are we…" she began.

"Yes," he answered, "we are still inside the house." He stepped from behind her, looking up into the sky, shading his eyes from the sun.

"How is this possible?" She gingerly touched a rose and watched as the drops of water dripped from the petals. She waited for his answer, but when he did not give one she looked up. He had disappeared.

"Doctor!" She called, her voice echoing back to her. Heart pounding, she made toward the bend in the gravel path, desperately searching for the familiar straggly figure.

He wasn't there.

Stricken, she froze. She had never lost him before, she had always been able to find him, but now he had gone. She whirled about herself, seeking any sign of a path he could have taken. But there was only the path at her feet, and the rose bushes were so dense, no one would have desired to trek through them.

She fisted her hands at her sides and tried to soothe the panic she felt rising with her pounding heart.

"Over here!" His voice drifted down the gravel path. With a breath caught in her throat, she pounded down the pathway, and at the final turn, she ground to a stop. The path opened to reveal a large fountain in the middle of a circular space where four different paths extended down long walls of incredibly tall, dense shrubs. Water sprayed in glistening arches from the top of the fountain, and she found the Doctor sitting contentedly at the very edge of the fountain as if he had been waiting for her for quite some time.

Fear changed to anger, and her round eyes narrowed into slits.

"This is very peculiar," he said, ignoring the seething woman, "the house seems to have no end." She noted how his lips thinned as he thought. Something was bothering him; there was something he wasn't sharing.

"What?" She seethed, trying unsuccessfully to regain her dignity. He looked up and noticed how haggard she appeared, her sharp eyes glinting furiously in the bright sun.

He grinned at her.

"I'm not sure yet." He rose from his seat and paced about, peering into each passageway.

She pursed her lips and shook her head, and when he peered back at her, he noticed how the golden flecks in her eyes shown unnaturally in the sunlight.

"Amuse me," she crossed her arms, pointedly waiting for his response.

With a sigh he said.

"The house seems to have the same mechanics as the TARDIS. Bigger on the inside and all…"

"Obviously," she scoffed.

"A place like this shouldn't exist."

"You do seem to like that phrase…"

"This is Time Lord technology."

Understanding made her stop, but her brow scrunched in sudden confusion.

"But how…?" she looked up into the sky. The warmth of the sun-kissed her skin and she felt a slight breeze shift through her hair. If anything, she would have been convinced she was not surrounded by the four walls of the house but was in a vast expansive garden.

"I would say it's all an illusion, but…I don't know." He muttered, confusion also marring his brow. She looked back at him questionably.

"You like saying that, too. Come, Doctor, I thought you liked figuring puzzles."

He thrust his hands deep into his pockets, his eyes now scrutinizing her until she felt he could see her soul.

"You talk as if you know me." He stepped closer, and the teasing glint in her eyes faded. "Everything happened the moment you appeared. Even if you did not purposefully cause any of this, everything seems to correlate back to you."

"Still trying to figure me out?" She forced herself to keep her ground.

"I wouldn't have to if you would just tell me the truth." His solemn eyes met hers, but she continued to stare at him, unmoved.

"You were going to let me see into your memories," she looked away from him then, her gaze shifting toward the fountain, "will you let me see them now?" His voice had gone quiet as if knowing she would resist.

She swept her eyes back to his, golden eyes sparkling.

"There is nothing to know that would help Clara," she stated, forcibly, "we should stop wasting time and find her."

She moved past him, not looking back to see if he would follow. Without thinking she picked a path and marched down the narrow walkway.

"Wait," he called after her, "you can't just pick one!"

"Why not?" She yelled back, her pace never wavering, "they all look the same, might as well pick one and hope for the best."

He raced to catch her and skidded to a halt with his hand gripping her arm. She looked down at his fingers gripping her sleeve and paused in her step.

"What are you not telling me?" He insisted. She slowly raised her eyes to meet his, pressing her lips into a thin line.

"You were relenting before, what changed your mind?" Desperation sharpened his tone, and at that, she lifted her chin.

"That man," she said fiercely, "despite what you think, he was real. He was as real as you are standing there. You couldn't see him, but I could."

"And how did that change anything?"

"Because he is supposed to be dead. I watched him die. Now somehow he is conjured back from the dead and is either haunting me or he is nothing of but a figment of my imagination. Either way, he is here, and whatever this place is was able to look inside my head and bring him back. Something is very wrong about this place, and looking through my memories will do Clara no favors."

She shook his grasp from her arm and continued her trek down the gravel path.

They walked for what seemed like hours. The path never wavered in direction, only kept straight on, never-ending. They kept silent mostly, neither sure how to address the other, only the crunch of the gravel road filled the tense silence. Finally, the woman spoke.

"You must have an idea as to what this place is."

He glanced at her for a split second, then said, "what makes you think so?"

She shrugged.

"Do you ever not know anything? You always seem to have an inkling to any situation no matter how disastrous."

He raised his brows.

"That so," he said in mock astonishment, but after a moment's pause, he continued.

"This place is just as confoundable to me as it is to you, but…" he let out a disparaging sigh, "I do have a theory, not a good one, but it does give some answers."

When he didn't continue she turned to him expectantly.

"Care to elaborate," she urged.

He halted their walk by stepping directly in front of her, a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

"Tell me one thing first."

He saw her tense, and her eyes flash as if in a warning.

"Tell me your name." He said arms crossed expectantly.

She stared blankly at him.

"Tell me yours." She said tilting her head.

He shook his head, a small smile playing at the edge of his lips.

"You lie about your memories, and you lie about not knowing your name. Now you must be trying to compensate for whatever horrible deed you've done to come to warn us about this 'danger.' But after everything, it all seems to revolve around you."

The green eyes were very close.

"What game are you playing at?"

She watched him for a moment, the cold golden eyes assessing his every move, and he fought to not wither under her stare.

"Have you never lied, Doctor?" Her voice had become quiet, almost sad, "isn't that the first rule? The Doctor always lies, do you not?"

His face slackened, but his eyes hardened as he considered her.

"You don't need to trust me," she said finally, "and I don't need yours either. Finding Clara is both our motive, is that not enough?"

"You don't want me seeing into your memories, because you're scared about what I will see. You don't want me seeing the truth about whatever your hiding. But for some reason, you want to help us, perhaps even save us from whatever this 'thing' is. Or is that a lie too? What is real then? You say one thing, but your words are empty. Give me one true thing about yourself, then maybe I will consider telling you my theory."

She inclined her head, his words reminding her of a similar moment, and she smiled softly.

"I can see why you love her," she said not considering if he heard her, but ignoring his confused stare, she stuck out her hand.

"One true thing in exchange for a theory," she shrugged, "deal."

He tentatively shook her hand, and the moment his fingers brushed hers, she slipped him a memory. She let down the walls in her mind and showed him the day, the demons nearly took her.

How they had ravaged against her, for she was new at the time and did not know how to kill the disgusting beasts. They sought her flesh with their teeth and revealed in her blood. The screams she had cried, and the fear she had felt, once again constricted her heart at the memory. She kept the edges of the memory dark, keeping him from seeing what she was protecting. She couldn't let him know, not yet, but something was pulling them further into her mind.

She was losing control.

The beast was breaking from its cage.

It wanted him. It wanted them both to delve into the dark and devour them. She had led him into a trap.

A lattice of golden light threaded into the memory, the beast was breaking through. She let out a disparaging cry as she felt the loss on her conscious. She gripped his hand tighter, desperate to regain control and find her stability, but she was no match for it now, as weak as she was.

But then suddenly, it was gone.

The beast locked itself back inside his cage and sat contentedly as she gasped desperately for air.

It smiled with glee, and she felt cold sweat tremble down her arms.

She forgot who's hand she held until she felt him gently pry himself from her crippling grip.

She relinquished her hand and stepped back quickly, her fingertips messaging the throbbing pain in her head.

"What...was that?" His voice shook her, and when she finally looked up to meet his gaze, she saw astonished horror hardening his face.

"That," she breathed, "was what it took to get to you. Told you it was hell." She lowered her hands, but the pain still throbbed, and her heart still raced.

What was it doing?

It was driving her insane.

"Those, things…I didn't recognize them."

She smiled at that; those words were almost foreign to his tongue, and he hated admitting it; she liked knowing something he didn't.

But she shrugged her response.

"I wasn't sure either, but they wanted to keep me from getting to you."

That much was true.

"Was this right before you appeared on the TARDIS?" He asked skeptically, and she knew she had not fooled him; he caught something; half truths were useless.

"Yes," she answered simply, waiting for him to expose her lie.

"Have you always been able to do the…" he animatedly flexed his palm, "flashy thing?"

Startled by the question she frowned but shook her head slightly.

"No. Not always."

There was a charged silence, one that caused her heart to pound anticipating his response.

But then, he turned and said over his shoulder, "deals a deal," and he walked passed her then, speaking as he continued their walk,

"As a child, I was told this story of a place that could not just open to different parts of the universe, but also parallel universes. It was always just a story, more a myth than anything...but..." he paused.

"How did the story go?" She prompted when he didn't continue.

"The stories were never the same, but it always started with someone searching for the door that leads to multiple worlds, though the door was never found, they never gave up looking for it."

"Why were they searching for it?"

"One story was about a man trying to find his way home, another was about two lovers who were separated and trying to find each other…and so on."

"And you think this place is it?" She asked, intrigued by the idea that such a place could exist.

But he only shrugged.

"It was always just that, a story. No one could say how the story first originated, let alone if such a place even existed…but everything seems to fit into the story. It always talked about the door being found in the least expected of places and was constantly changing, so finding the door was always impossible. But the travelers were told to be on the lookout for a house, one with many doors, and only one could lead them to the place they most desired. But choose the wrong one and…"

"And what?" She asked quietly.

"And one would be forever lost in its maze of worlds."

They were silent for some time, both contemplating the possibility of being trapped in this never ending house. Her heart went cold at the thought.

"There was also mention of a book of names of all the travelers that had passed through."

Her heart stilled in her chest, her mind whirling with confusion.

"That book…" she cleared her throat, "your friend's name was in that book…do you think she's trapped here?"

She did not turn to face him, but she could feel his stare boring into her.

"According to the story. But that would be impossible."

She looked at him then.

"How so?"

"Why won't you tell me your name?" He asked instead.

She blinked, then said, "for the same reason you won't tell anyone yours." She turned away then, and continued their tedious walk down the gravel path; he did not question her further.

They both continued in silence until just ahead, a door materialized in front of them. Without hesitation, she reached for the handle and flung the door open.

"Wait!" She heard him call, but it was too late, the world around them fell away and in its place was a small familiar room.

It took her only a moment to recognize the rusted metal walls, the stained white bed with bloody restraints dangling from the sides. Medical equipment that appeared more like torture instruments lay rusting on a table beside the bed.

Everything was as it had once been.

Nothing had changed.

She almost fell to her knees, and heard the beast laugh, for her most dreaded memory was on display for all the world to see.