11. Tyler.

The Doctor was just counting the stars in the sky, barely visible through his own frosting breath, when the door to his cell slammed open. The Doctor slowly stood and turned to face the intruder, squinting his eyes against the bright light. To his complete surprise, a silhouette was pushed towards him and he found himself tumbling to the ground as the silhouette landed on top of him with a terrified shriek.

The door slammed shut.

The Doctor lay on the ground, frozen in shock as he listened to the hysterically sobbing girl try to scramble off him. Eventually she managed, and landed with a thump by the Doctor's side.

"Hey," the Doctor said gently, swallowing painfully around a throat raw from overuse, "are you ok? Are you hurt?"

The sobbing continued for a few more moments, wrenching at his hearts with each ragged gasp. He crawled over to her and gently pulled her into a hug, rocking her back and forth slowly, making what he hoped to be reassuring "shush"ing noises. It had been a while since he had done this, and he tried to ignore his own painful memories in favour of comforting the crying girl in his arms.

Eventually she began hiccoughing and sniffling, which the Doctor knew meant signalled the end of a crying fit. Given the circumstances, he was quite impressed – he had expected it to dissolve into a panic attack.

"There," he said quietly, "that's better."

The girl let go of his tweed jacket, which she had been clutching convulsively, and hiccupped.

"Now," the Doctor said, leaning back slightly to look at her in the pale moonlight. "What's your name?"

"Rosie," the girl said, sniffing.

"Rosie, that's a nice name," he said. "And how old are you, Rosie?"

"9."

He tapped her on the nose. "Well then, better watch out for 10. That year's a corker."

She wriggled out of his grip so that she was sat cross-legged on the floor, staring at him. "Who are you? Where are my parents? Where's my brother?"

"I'm the Doctor," he replied, "and I'm here to help you find them."

You know that's not true. You're just as stuck as her.

She needs something to hang onto.

"Now," he said, "where did you see them last?"

"My parents were at home."

"And where is that?"

"The Powell Estate. London," the girl added, having seen the trees through the window and realised that she was now very far away from home. "Where are we?"

The Doctor's body had turned cold, and it took him a few moments to find his voice again. "Er… We're in a forest. Pretty big one, from the looks of it," he added.

She stared at him. "But where's the forest?"

Funny, she even has the same accent.

Shut up, shut up!

"I don't know. But I'm working on it! I've been analysing the leaves and the taste of the air – bit difficult given that it's an alternate universe – but I think we're in Scotland."

Rosie hiccupped. "Scotland? But I was in London!"

"Yes… and that's a very good point. You must have been taken by wizards. What's the last thing you remember?"

"But wizards aren't real!"

"Let's just pretend that they are, for a moment, ok? What do you remember?"

Rosie thought for a moment, staring at the ground. "I was playing with the others, and Mum and Dad were watching. We were waiting for my brother to come back from work. Then loads of cars backfired and there was a green light where my parents were."

Uh oh. Sounds like an anti-Muggle raid.

Yes, but in the middle of London?

They'll have passed it off as something else.

"And then what?"

"I was here."

"Hmmm," he murmured. "Do you remember being put to sleep?"

"No."

"Well," he concluded, rather lamely, "that's probably what happened."

"What's happened to my Mum and Dad?"

The Doctor swallowed. You can't tell her they're dead, you just can't. "I don't know. But I'll help you find them. Promise." He tried a small smile in her general direction.

"What'll happen to us?"

"Blimey, someone has a lot of questions," he muttered. "I don't know," he said again, loud enough for her to hear. "But I'm here, Rosie, and they'll have to go through me first, whatever it is they want to do."

oOo

It had taken a lot of arguing, persuasion and reassuring stories on the Doctor's part, but Rosie had finally fallen asleep against a wall of their cell. The Doctor longed to tell her that everything would be ok, that she would survive this and that they would know each other later, but he knew that it would be a lie. For a start, he didn't even exist in this universe, not really. Sometimes he hated alternate universes. Sometimes it seemed that, no matter what he did, he was always destined to fail where Rose Tyler was concerned.

And he hated that the universe(s) could not just give him a break.

This version of Rose Tyler snored. Not that he knew if the other version snored, of course. He could practically sense his Tenth self blush at that.

Before he could even begin to try to distract himself from that train of thought concerning the Rose Tyler he had known, the door creaked open again, revealing Snape and Lucius. The Doctor raised his eyebrows at that, wondering why Bellatrix had skipped the opportunity to visit him in his cell. Perhaps it was her day off.

Though from the serious expressions on Severus' and Lucius' faces, it wasn't theirs.

"Rosie," he murmured, testing to see if she would wake up. She didn't stir.

All hope that they didn't need her was crushed as Lucius came to a halt in front of her, wand raised. The Doctor was on his feet and between them in an instant, putting on his best Oncoming Storm face. He hoped it worked in the dark.

"Don't you touch her," he snarled, surprising himself.

Lucius looked briefly taken aback before his usual mask slid into place. "I won't," he said, to the Doctor's confusion.

"Whatever you want, I can give it to you."

"Oh, I think we both know that that isn't true," Lucius said, sneering. He jerked his head forwards. "Severus."

Before the Doctor could react he found himself on the floor, bound by ropes that he could have sworn did not previously exist. He watched in horror as Lucius did the same to Rosie, who woke with a scream.

"Leave her alone! If you harm a single hair on her head, I'll – mph!" With a lazy flick of his wand, Lucius had silenced him.

Rosie screamed as she was levitated into the air. "Doctor!"

The Doctor tried to move, tried to shout, tried to do something, but he was powerless as he, too, was lifted off the floor and they were both levitated out of the cell. He felt the difference immediately. Warmth flooded his bones and he could no longer see his breath – he had not even realised how cold he had been.

They were being taken down the first corridor the Doctor had seen in this world, though he only knew this from logical inference; really, the ceiling wasn't very much to go by, and Snape was diligently making sure that he couldn't see his surroundings.

Well, that was pretty rubbish. So much for a spy who may (or may not) help him to escape at some point. What's the point in a spy if you don't give information to the right side?

How do you know he isn't just keeping information he finds out quiet until Voldemort kills you? Just because he never mentioned you being resistant to Veritaserum doesn't mean he's on your side. All you know for sure is that he probably isn't on Voldemort's. Maybe.

The Doctor sighed. The first thing he would do when he got back would be to get rid of that stupid voice. It sounded too much like the Dream Lord.

They – or rather, the Death Eaters with functioning legs – stepped out into the snow and trudged for a minute or two through the forest. The Doctor tried to ask where they were going, but found that he couldn't make a single sound come out, though he could still move his mouth.

Finally, the world around them shimmered and they were properly out in the open. The air beneath the Doctor suddenly disappeared and he slammed into the ground with completely unexpected force, the wind knocked out of him. From the thud to the right of him, he surmised that the same thing had happened to Rosie. Though the lack of a surprised shout indicated that Lucius must have muted her too.

He felt Snape's hands hauling him upright, a squeezing sensation a thousand times worse than a Vortex Manipulator, and then found himself on his knees, gasping and retching.

Blimey, give me a TARDIS any day.

He looked up, blinking. They were in a graveyard this time. Snow covered the ground, seeping through the Doctor's trousers and making him shiver slightly, though he tried his best not to, not wanting to give them the satisfaction. Mercifully he was soon levitated out of the snow and navigated over headstones of varying sizes until, with a shimmer, they were surrounded by people in black cloaks and masks.

The Doctor's heart sank. This couldn't be good. He suddenly felt like a lamb being led to an altar.

Snape deposited him roughly on the ground and undid his ropes with a brief flick of his wand. The Doctor pointed to his throat. Snape looked to Voldemort, who nodded, and the Doctor felt his vocal cords being soaked in warmth.

"That's better," he said, getting to his feet, wishing his knees weren't shaking from low blood sugar. "Now, what's going o-"

"You will kneel before our Lord!" Bellatrix suddenly shrieked.

The Doctor knelt with a quick glance at Rosie to make sure that she was alright. She was free now too, rubbing her wrists as she knelt beside him in the snow. She looked up at Voldemort with wide, frightened eyes. Dry eyes. She'd always been so brave, no matter the universe.

"As you know," Voldemort began in a cold voice as Snape and Lucius took their places in the surrounding circle, "Dumbledore has just fled Hogwarts."

Cheers erupted from the crowd and the Doctor sighed. He had really hoped that that wouldn't be parallel. With Dumbledore in hiding and Voldemort now publicly unopposed, there was no knowing what could happen. Especially if he found out the Doctor's secrets.

"A celebration is in order!"

Oh, he had such a bad feeling about this. Perhaps it was the graveyard.

Voldemort stood up and walked over to the Doctor and Rosie. "Following the raid earlier this evening," he explained, and the Doctor suspected it was for his benefit, given his following words, "I have left the best until last."

He span around in a circle, looking at each of his followers in turn. "The Doctor has always had such a soft spot for weak humans. And there is no weaker and more defenceless than a child."

"Don't hurt her."

Voldemort turned to stare at him, nostrils flaring. "Oh," he said, "I won't. You will cooperate, Doctor."

"I don't know what you've got planned, but I'm telling you now I won't do it. And you'd be stupid to try to force me."

Voldemort smiled even while a nervous whisper rippled throughout the crowd. "This, Doctor, is what happens when you refuse to cooperate with me. Imperio!"

He suddenly felt lighter, his brain foggy, and it became incredibly difficult to think, difficult to move. He felt his knees give way at the exact same time that his mind, weakened by relentless invasions over the past few months, did.

The Doctor collapsed into the snow, wondering vaguely if this was what it felt like to be drunk.

Get up.

The voice was both whisper-light and heavy at the same time, but its force was undeniable. The Doctor struggled to disobey, reminding himself that he was The Oncoming Storm, he was feared, he was powerful, and he was strong. He could get up any time he liked, and he didn't want to get up now, not when he knew what was coming.

His left foot seemed to disagree, however, and shifted so that most of his weight was placed on it, poised to get up. No! He overbalanced and fell over, sprawling face first in the snow. He could feel it melting on his tongue.

Dimly, he could hear Rosie scrambling over to him and then being restrained by another Death Eater. She couldn't escape, not with that many of them there, and he began to panic.

GET UP!

The Doctor slowly clambered to his feet, panting with the effort of trying to fight the spell. He found himself tottering towards Rosie, his legs stiff and straight like a scarecrow. Rosie's terrified face stared back at him and the Doctor threw every inch of himself against the presence in his mind, screaming at the top of his mental-lungs.

He couldn't do this, no, not that, anything but that.

He stopped on the spot, swaying indecisively.

Move forwards.

His right foot took a tentative step forwards.

And still her eyes bored into his, the same colour – the exact same shade of brown - as they had been when he had first seen them. She was confused and unable to move, knowing that she was boxed in on all sides, and she was looking at him for hope. He had promised to save her.

There were some phrases that he should just stay away from.

WALK!

The presence was getting stronger now, more impatient, practically crushing the Doctor's mind beneath it. His left foot joined his right. Then he took another step, and another.

And another.

The crowd was silent, watching with bated breath to find out what "celebration" their master had in store for them. He was right in front of her now, almost toe to toe, and Voldemort forced him to look her in the eyes.

Then the Doctor felt his face smile, his hands reaching up. Rosie flinched backwards.

He struggled to protest, tried to shout, but found his vocal chords clamped shut. Instead, he sent a mental wave of anger back to Voldemort, who simply strengthened his hold on the Doctor's mind, though not before the Doctor felt a wave of interest.

Why her? Why did it always, always have to be her that he let down time and time again?

His hands were reaching upwards, shaking and trembling like the hands of an old man as they wound themselves around her neck.

She gasped and jerked back, starting to run away from him backwards. "Doctor?" She kept running until she ran into the human wall of Death Eaters.

The Doctor ran after her in stumbling, awkward steps, slipping and sliding all the way in his attempt to stop what was happening to him and yet still he managed to catch up with her. She looked him right in the eyes.

"Your eyes look…" she trailed off, bright, tearful eyes widening. "Doctor? Can you hear me?"

The Death Eaters laughed at that, some of them jeering about Muggles. The Doctor struggled to nod but his neck just wouldn't move.

"Doctor," she took a step towards him, "please. You said you'd help me."

He tried to scream at her to get away, to leave him. So many times her reasoning and trust had managed to break through to him. How many times had she saved him from himself, when he was at his worst? But this was different. This Rose was a child, and he was being controlled by a sadistic maniac rather than his own dark self, and he couldn't fight Voldemort off like he could himself.

But she didn't know this, couldn't know this. All she had seen was Voldemort cast a spell and then the Doctor acting in a strange way. And while she had worked out that he was not in control of himself, she had no idea just how out of control he was. Her only defense was helping him, now that they were surrounded.

Her belief in him had always been her undoing, and he hated himself for it.

"Doctor?"

The crowd was silent again, staring intently.

The Doctor's hands reached up and, as if finally realising that she couldn't reach him, Rosie began to run again. The Doctor was forced to chase her, round and round the circle to cheers of the depraved crowd, until she finally slipped on a patch of ice and slid into a tombstone.

She lay still on the ground, her hand clutching her ankle, and the Doctor's heart constricted. She had sprained her ankle in the fall.

Voldemort made the Doctor dive on top of her, pinning her legs to the floor with his legs, his hands reaching for her throat.

Tears began to spill from her eyes, then, as her fear got the best of her and her bravery cracked. "Please."

His hands latched around her windpipe and began squeezing. His fingers jerked and his arms shook, pulling away every few seconds only to be pushed back into the motion again. He was trying to save her, trying to fight off Voldemort completely, but the only result was that she died slower.

The force dominating his mind finally lifted as Rosie's eyes rolled back in her head and she went limp. The crowd cheered and the Doctor slumped back into the snow, exhausted and shell shocked, unable to believe what he had just done.

Rosie Tyler, 9 years old, lay dead at his feet.