A/N: Thank you so much for reading and reviewing! I know the first chapter was short and had a sucky ending, but hopefully this one will be better!
Disclaimer: I don't own doctor who (*sigh*, "if only")
The Doctor stood there as Madame, no, for now she was Doctor, Kovarian yanked the curtain back. Behind the curtain they lay a window. A small muddy window that time had warped and smudged. Hesitantly stepping forward, the Doctor leaned in to peer at the contents of the room.
A girl lay there, hopeless and broken. But when the Doctor laid a single hand on the door, she seemed to come alive again. Slowly, ever so slowly, the girl lifts her head from the pillow. He could tell she was in pain from the way she moved. He stopped breathing; barely aware of the fact there were others in the room. The girl was special, in which way he knew not, but he knew one thing. She needed to be rescued, and fast. This girl would have an impact. She would unite worlds and save civilizations. He knew this for a fact. While he had been pondering her existence, the girl had brought herself into a seated position. She looked at the door.
It was like all the oxygen had been sucked from the room. A memory flashed behind his eyes. A kiss. A single kiss that had broken his heart, yet stitched it back together at the same time. Impossible! She is with the meta-crisis, in another world. She is happy, with a life and job of her own. How can she possibly… he looked closer. This girl wasn't his Rose. There were differences, subtle, but not nonexistent. The jaw line was sharper, the eyes a deeper brown. Her hair was wavy and thicker, not the straight sleek blonde her mother possessed. She was still Rose's girl, and in that second he made up his mind. He wouldn't be leaving here without her.
"That is she." Kovarian whispered. The Doctor jumped, as he had forgotten the presence of others. "She came to us when she was but a small girl, only 6 years old. Despite her young age though, her mind was corrupt with the stories of a fantastical man. This, this, Doctor." She spoke the name with distaste, as if she had caught him dancing on her mother's grave. A shudder ran down the Doctor's spine. He started to sweat. This woman hated him, and they had only just met. "We tried to convince her with words, but she only resisted. When she was 10 years old, we moved on to more… effective methods of persuasion."
He knew from the smile, from the simple curve of her lips and the way she said those words. "Torture?"
"Some may call it torture, yes, but I chose to call it medicine. The girl is sick, and we have the remedy."
She isn't sick, and her mind is only corrupted by years of being in your presence! He wanted to scream at her, but he knew that would only raise suspicion. And if he wanted to get her out of there alive, he knew he had to pretend like he was okay with what they were doing. As if he were okay that they were treating her like an animal, sucking the light out of her eyes each time they so much as blinked near her. His hand clenched into fists, the urge to scream and hit something almost uncontrollable. But he swallowed the anger down, along with the feelings of disgust and revulsion, of sadness and pity. His face was a blank slate, his voice void of personality. "So what happens now?"
"Well, now you will be shown to your room to drop your things off. After that a quick lunch, then a demonstration of our cure." With that she turned on her heel and strutted out of the room. "Can't wait" the Doctor muttered under hos breath. Sighing, he risked one last glance at the door. The girl was staring at him, her gaze unwavering and pleading. He dropped his gaze, feeling cowardly and stupid, and followed the maid out of the room, trying to forget the revulsion in her gaze.