Ah. Well. There has been some silence from me, hasn't there? Well, it might be because I got caught up in university and the show, RENT. That ended long ago…I miss it so. Still.

I'm so sorry for my silence!

The other main reason is that the new, third season of DW started weeks ago in the UK…so I have kept myself away from any DW stuff so as not to stumble on any spoilers…I'm in New Zealand, remember? We'll get it in July. Argh. So long to wait…but this DW famine means I've kept away from fan fiction. I was thinking about fanfic a few says ago, and thought I should write more, since I've got a break from assignments at the moment…even though I'm into rehearsals for another show!

Oh, and I'm referring to one of my earlier stories in this again. Romeo and Juliet. But I think most of you have read it, so no worries.

Disclaimer: In my mind…

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Rose could feel a grill underneath her head, and a gentle reverberation through the metal. It took her a moment, before her eyes opened, to remember where she was, and what had happened. The Doctor; the last game, everything, Jack…

She opened her eyes, the familiar surroundings suddenly striking fear into her. They hadn't won yet, had they? There were still more games to go…so why was he onboard the TARDIS? And why was the figure at the console so familiar – yet so chilling?

The Doctor turned. "Oh, you're awake! Took you long enough." He pulled her up off the floor and pointed to the opposite side of the console. "Over there, I need you to turn the dials to as high as they'll go."

Rose didn't move, she just continued to stare at the Ninth Doctor, confused and disbelieving. He had regenerated. On the Gamestation. He was younger now, more hyperactive and hers. This Doctor was the past, the other Doctor – the real Doctor was the future. The Ninth Doctor stared back, before crossing his arms and sighing. "What is it now?"

Rose opened her mouth, but she couldn't form the words. She wanted to ask who he was, was this real, was she still dreaming, but she couldn't get anything out. She was scared, confused – as much as part of her was happy to see this Doctor again, she wanted her Doctor.

The Ninth Doctor uncrossed his arms and took her hand. "You don't remember, do you? We were on Axiuos Beta, you were stung by a Axiuan wasp. The poison made you pass out. But I bet you've had some pretty messed up dreams, am I right?"

"I…dreamed?" Rose shook her head slightly. This was beginning to become clear. Maybe…maybe she had been dreaming. "There were millions of Daleks…you regenerated…we went to New Earth…Cassandra, Chip." She dissolved into mutterings about their past adventures as the Doctor before her shook his head patronisingly. "Never happened, Rose."

Rose leant against the railing, trying to sort her thoughts. If it never happened, the Doctor didn't love her…well, maybe he did, but he wasn't the one she had kissed. She wanted her Doctor to come in, show her that everything had happened. What was the last one? A homicidal game, or something. The Astral Toyman. No, that wasn't it. It must be just a remnant from the dreams. She moved to the console the Doctor had indicated before and began to work, mind wandering.

"Where we gonna go?" she asked.

"Wherever we like, Rose-by-any-other-name," the Doctor replied from the other side of the rotor.

Rose's hands stopped above the dials. That was from…she clutched her chest. Without wanting to, she felt under her top – and her fingers touched the almost scar made by the real knife. Romeo and Juliet. This was proof it was real. This was just a game. Another Celestial Toymaker game to play with her head. It wasn't real. He wasn't real. Outside those doors she could find her other Doctor, alive and in his current regeneration.

She tuned to find the Doctor blocking her path. "Going somewhere?"

"You're not real," Rose stated, sounding braver than she felt. She showed him the scar beneath her ribs. "This was made by a knife on a thespian planet. I was with your regenerated self. It wasn't a dream; this is still the Toymaker messing with my head!"

The Doctor arched an eyebrow. "How can you be so sure?"

Rose was hoping she wouldn't have to fight him. She didn't know if she could, so she forced herself to keep thinking of the real Doctor, the regenerated one. "The scar wouldn't be here if it didn't happen. Now get out of my way."

"I can't let you, Rose. We're in flight! If you go out there, you'll die! You need to rest, to let yourself calm down." He moved towards her consolingly, but she slipped past him to the doors.

"We're not in flight. The rotor's not moving." She gave a twisted smile and she pulled to door open, to find herself in an old house. She was about to move, when the voice behind her made her turn back form an instant.

"Fine, go. Be intelligent." It came from the Ninth Doctor, but the voice was the Toymaker's. Rose bolted down a corridor, turning back at the corner to see that the TARDIS had vanished, the dusty surroundings unmarked. She wondered, as she leant against the wall shaking, where the Doctor, and Jack, both were. And what was the point of this game?

Her arm computer was gone. No computer, no information. She was on her own – literally and figuratively.

Taking a breath, Rose reasoned that the abandoned mansion – she couldn't help thinking it was slightly clichéd – couldn't be that big. She should be able to find both the boys. It would all be okay.

ooooooo

The Doctor had stepped forward into the darkness carefully, making sure he wasn't too far away from the prone figure of his friends. Through the door is had appeared to be quiet, somewhat safe – but as he had turned to pick up Rose, something, or someone, had flown out of the darkness and given him a painful blow on the head, turning his world to darkness.

He was awake now, finally. He had been lying on the ground where he had fallen – and, as he stood saw that the bodies of Rose and Jack were gone, the arena dark. Something else wasn't right, be he couldn't put his hand on it. As he started to investigate his surroundings – a wide entrance hall, compete with sweeping staircase and chandelier – he realised what it was. The now familiar weight of his computer was gone. He had no way of knowing what this game was.

The hall he was in had seen better days. It had been grand in its time, he guessed, but now it was disused, dusty, spooky. The Doctor paused with a hand on the banister, wondering where he should go. Up, or stay on the lower floor? He could see no footprints or marks in the dust – whatever had taken Rose and Jack had left no clues.

Casting an eye around the hall again, the Doctor noticed a faint sliver of light coming from a side room, partially hidden behind a velvet curtain. Curiosity got the better of him, and he wandered over to take a look.

Drawing back the dusty velvet, his free hand slowly traced the wooden rose carved into the door. Was this, then, a clue to Rose's whereabouts? Was she through here? Was there another door bearing a similar carving that would point to Jack (a martini, perhaps, or a gun?) and lead him to the Captain? But what was within this room?

He opened the door slowly, trying to think what could be beyond – knowing the Toymaker, it could be anything, so he had to be prepared for anything.

But he wasn't prepared for what he found.

Standing before him in the doorway, watching him with ethereal, blank eyes, was the Bad Wolf. The Doctor took a step back in surprise. But she was…she was gone. It had cost him a life, but he had pulled the vortex from Rose. Bad Wolf shouldn't exist. Yet here she was, looking more like a goddess than like Rose, blocking his entrance from the room.

"Greetings, Time Lord."

"You…" For once, words seemed so fail him.

"You remember me, then? How lovely." She gave him a twisted smile.

"Why are you here?"

Her eyes seemed to blaze more brightly with the golden light. "To tell you she's gone."

His hearts skipped a beat. She didn't mean…but of course, she did. "Rose?"

Bad Wolf smiled. "Believe what you will."

She faded from sight, revealing the room before him. It was small, but with a high, vaulted ceiling. Torches lit the walls, alongside dark wall hangings. In the centre, laid out on a stone crypt, was Rose. She was pale, unmoving, cold - and clearly dead.

The Doctor paused for a moment, before putting a hand to her cheek. Freezing. He felt her neck and wrist – no pulse. So this was what Bad Wolf had meant by 'gone'. She was gone, dead, deceased.

He stood next to the crypt, mind, for once, completely still. Part of him was telling him that it wasn't real; it was an illusion to bring his guard down. But it was so real…and, illusion or not, it hurt. The idea of Rose, his Rose, dead, was something he didn't want to face – who would? But they had come so close, so many times. When would she fall and not get to her feet? When would she no longer be beside him?

Tears had come, unbidden, to his eyes as he hung his head in thought. One fell, and he caught it in his palm, looking at the droplet through misted eyes. Pain and loss - they define us as much as happiness or love. Was that what Sarah-Jane had said? Hadn't he had enough pain and loss for all his lifetimes? This was another weight.

But then again, she put herself in danger so many times – when she purposely disobeyed him, came after him, stayed by him not matter what the danger, no matter what he said. The risk was ever-present, and if she died, he would feel the guilt. No matter whose choices preceded it, or the circumstances. If she died…

He remembered how he had felt when she had been stabbed. The race against time, the promise to her – and himself – he wouldn't loose her. He hadn't…but it had been close. Too close. There was a feeling, deep within the recesses of his mind, that someday, she would be gone. Whether it would be death, injury, or unforeseen circumstances, she couldn't be with him forever.

He placed a hand on the corpse, willing himself to move, to leave this place, to find Rose and revel in the knowledge that she was alive, she was standing with him and she was his. He turned, away from the nightmare illusion in the centre of the room and walked away slowly, in controlled movements.

If, by some chance, they came back here, he wasn't going to let either of the others set foot in that room. No matter how much they asked, or whatever curiosity was displayed. No one was to go into this room.

He rearranged the curtain to hide the door, and set up off the stairs, trying to rid himself of the deep, heavy feeling that was upon him. His only thought now was to find a familiar face within this horror.

ooooooo

Rose was still running, praying, hoping against hope that her pursuer was gone. This place wasn't as straightforward as it had seemed; she was jumping at shadows and hearing eerie noises. She had been sure of the sound of heavy footsteps following her, too heavy to be Jack or the Doctor. And a harsh, scraping sound – like something being dragged.

A few doors back, she had found herself facing a bloodied room, strange symbols on the walls and burnt-out candles on the floor. She hadn't stayed to investigate further – her horror had caused her to stumble out the door. That, and she was sure one of the shadows had moved. Then the footsteps had started.

She bolted into a side room, closing the heavy door quietly behind her, and leant her head against it, listening through the wood. Outside was silent. Rose exhaled slowly, realising she had been holding her breath. She turned to look at the room she had run into.

It appeared to be an old ballroom of a sort – there was a grand piano in the corner, caked in dust. Rose wandered over to it, hand hovering above the keys. To make noise wouldn't be wise, but she was sorely temped to tap a few of the keys. There were a few old paintings, a web-covered chandelier, and a wide floor, which was made slippery by the dust.

A movement caught her attention, and she spun around, seeing that it was only a mirror that had scared her. Laughing softly at herself, she headed over to it. It was massive – maybe twice as tall as her, and a few meters wide. The frame might have been ornate once, but now the gold was tarnished and dirty. And her refection…

…wasn't there. Rose moved her hand experimentally inform of the reflective glass, but nothing happened. She stood for a moment, staring into the mirror, expecting he image to appear. Maybe it was the light, or a trick mirror? She could see something inside it now, a figure, blurred, getting clearer. She turned away as soon as she saw who it was, determined not to be caught by an illusion.

"You killed me."

Almost against her will, Rose turned back to the image of the Ninth Doctor and crossed her arms, knowing he was a trick – but she was not going to leave with that thought in her head. "I was ready to die for you. You made that choice. Not me."

"I had to get you out of trouble. How stupid can you get? Absorbing the Vortex, honestly." The Ninth Doctor rolled his eyes.

"I wanted to save you," Rose said through gritted teeth. She turned to go, to find the door had gone. The Toymaker wasn't making this easy. She stopped, back to the mirror, considering her options, which there weren't many. There had to be another way out.

"It was all your fault. If you could've stayed out of trouble, maybe my regeneration wouldn't have happened. You never listened to me – we always were in trouble because of you! It was a mistake asking you to come."

Rose's breath caught. They Toymaker really did know how to make it hurt. She tried to block out his voice, not listen, but the words wormed their way into her mind anyway.

"I should have realised you were going to kill me, I'm surprised it took so long…my death was your fault…I could have done so much, been so many places; but you were such a weight…when I thought you had died, in the bunker, on the Gamestation, there was a part of me which leapt for joy…"

Rose could feel tears in her eyes, down her face. She had searched with blurred vision for something, anything, to get her out, but had come up with nothing. She was searching a table when the next words from the mirror came across to her.

"You're so trusting, you know - you really only hear what you want to her – I don't love you. Not now, not eve…"

Refusal to believe and anger at a homicidal maniac is a dangerous mix. Rose grabbed a candlestick, the closest thing in her reach, and flew at the mirror, determined to shut him up.

He wasn't right.

He was lying.

…wasn't he?

oooooooooooo

After a few piles of bones and some kind of mess he didn't want to see again, a mirror was a nice, normal sight. It looked ornate…reminded the Doctor of the mirror in Reinette's ballroom. The memory made him smile. This frame was a bit more complicated, but the mirror was about the same size. On coming closer, and into better light, he realised that there was a figure in it – and not himself.

The Bad Wolf was standing, watching him, the light of the Time Vortex dancing around her. An amused smile was on her face. "You're going to kill her…"

The Doctor, without a word, turned back to leave. He wasn't going to take this again. Once was enough. But the door had mysteriously vanished – the Toymaker was up to his tricks again.

"She's human, so she's mortal. Sooner or later, you will deal with the loss of her. And it's all going to be down to you – you're going to be responsible for her death."

The Doctor was only half listening, searching the room – a library, by the looks of it (lots of bookshelves) – for any other way out, to get himself away from this harpy and her words. Bad Wolf was, to him, an embodiment of the past, and of the Gamestation. She was also dangerous, more a personification of the Time Vortex than a being.

"Remember the feeling of her in your arms, when she was stabbed? All the times you've almost lost her. One time will be too many. You know it to be the truth."

The Doctor turned back to the mirror. He was unable to keep silent with such words. "She's not dead yet."

"But she will be soon. Or, will she make the choice first? Will she leave you alone, return to a normal life because she can't take this life anymore? Have you ever thought what these adventures must do to her?" Bad Wolf tapped her head. "The things she's seen…"

"Rose is strong. She makes the decision to travel with me." And I'm thankful she does… "If she wants to leave, it's her choice and I won't influence that."

"Then, Doctor, what will you do when she dies because of you?"

"She won't." He said it with a certainty that even surprised himself.

"One day, one planet, there will come a situation where she will not get out alive. You will be involved. Will she be captive? Will she be trying to save you?" Her eyes narrowed. "Or do you not remember my origins? It will be your fault. You know this, yet refuse to acknowledge it."

"Leave me be." His hands were running over the bookcase, searching.

"You promised you'd protect her – so when her blood is on your hands, where does that leave the promise?"

The Doctor stayed silent, refusing to give her an answer, even though inside he was seething. He knew this was exactly what the Toymaker wanted, but he couldn't help himself.

"You can't put your burden on others. You're meant to be alone in this universe – you can't have love, or even close friends. You don't deserve it."

At this he did turn, with a mind to shatter this illusion, this horror. He picked up a heavy, dust-covered book and threw it at Bad Wolf.

The crack that resounded from the mirror was amazing. The glass shattered, the image of Bad Wolf lost. With a dull thud, something fell onto the carpet. The Doctor looked at it, puzzled. A Candlestick?

He picked it up, looking through the hole in the mirror to where a familiar figure was holding the dusty book he had thrown. "Rose!"

"Doctor? It's you? Not an illusion?" Rose felt all the anger vanish in an instant.

He was so relieved to see her, unhurt, all right. "Yeah, it's me."

Rose climbed through the broken glass and into the Doctor's arms. She buried her head in his shoulder and wept silently, trying to banish the words that stuck in her mind. It was all a lie, an illusion…this was real.

There was blessed silence around them for a moment.

"A candlestick?"

Rose laughed, despite her tears, as she pulled away a little to look at him. "Yeah. It's a ballroom through there." She flicked her eyes around their current surroundings. "Library. Book. Makes sense."

"Why did you break the mirror?"

"I saw…I saw you. Not you, you previous self. It was an illusion, controlled by the Toymaker…he said…" She trailed off, unable to continue. "He said some things meant to break me…" she looked the Doctor straight in the eye. "Do you love me?"

"Of course I do, you know that." He hugged her close to accompany his words. Was that, then, part of the possible torment Rose had been through? "Rose, do you still want to travel with me?"

"You know I do…" she watched him closely, wondering what was going on in his mind.

"No matter what the danger?"

"No matter what."

The illusions' words had been dismissed, the scars they had cut been healed. Emotion was a dangerous weapon, especially in the hands of the Toymaker. Rose was still quiet, her eyes staring off into the corner, seeing something else. "What is it?" the Doctor asked her.

"Just…nothing. Another illusion I saw before. What did you see in the mirror?"

He told her about Bad Wolf, what she had said, and told her about the room he had found in the entrance hall and what was lying within. She stood and listened, a comforting hand on his upper arm, before she, in return, told him about waking up in the illusory TARDIS and what the Ninth Doctor had said to her from the mirror.

It was agreed that nothing was real, it was all a trick, ad the only thing to do now was to find Jack and get the hell out of here. A little hard, as the computers were gone.

After wandering around the dusty and darkened halls for what felt like a matter of hours, the Doctor and Rose stumbled upon Jack's body – literally, he was still lying where he had been placed, in an upstairs bedroom. The self-inflicted laser wound was almost completely healed, but the Doctor and Rose still had to wait for Jack to wake up.

When he did, minutes later, he was groggy and slightly uncoordinated, but with the help of his two companions was soon well enough to walk. Walking out of the bedroom, Jack eagerly enquiring as to what had been happening in the house and the Doctor and Rose evading going into detail, the three noticed the familiar white door at the end of the corridor.

"That wasn't there when we walked up…" whispered Rose.

"I have a feeling we're expected," the Doctor murmured, and as he came closer to the door, it slid silently open.

"Ah, Doctor, Rose, Jack!" came a familiar voice from inside the next room. "So nice you could join me for the last game." The Celestial Toymaker smiled a twisted smile at the three of them.

"Well then. Shall we begin, Doctor?"

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WOOT! Another one down. Oooooooh, and the last game is next, too! Exciting! Review please, if you're still reading, and haven't given up on me because of no updates! Thankies if you have managed to get this far, and come back to me after so much time!