So, I'm back and with a new chapter no less! :) Thank you guys so much for your constant support and please make sure to review if you enjoy it, or if you have any suggestions or critisisms.

This chapter is going to revolve around... well, EVERYONE! I hope you like it, I've been working on this chapter when I should have really been doing homework.

As always, I don't own Doctor Who. Trust me, if I did I would be starring in every episode ;) hehe.

Chapter 5

The Dream Lord was quite impressed with his little prison. From plucking bits and bobs out of the Doctor's companions' minds he was able to construct a world that would seem familiar to them, but at the same time so very, very wrong. He closed his eyes then and visualised it all. His masterpiece and the game pieces that were running wild.

For now.

Martha let out a shocked gasp as she and Mickey fell to the floor, but instead of wood under their hands there was moist gravel. Martha squinted as she looked about herself, disorientated. It was dark outside and there was a thin mist from a rain that kept spitting in her face. "Where are we?" Martha asked as she struggled to her feet.

Mickey was already up, "never mind that," he snapped, "that bastard took my gun!"

Martha couldn't help but laugh half-heartedly, it was the only defence mechanism she had for this kind of situation. Ever since the year that never was, Martha always thought she'd be prepared for the worst of the worst happening, but this was just too weird. That man that had spoken to them had called himself…

"The Dream Lord," Martha muttered as she began to move forwards. She didn't know where she was going, but she didn't really care. The place still looked like London minus the bustle of other people. There were still houses, but all the lights were out, there were still cars but they were all empty, even the ones that had seemingly been in mid-drive only moments beforehand.

Mickey grunted in agreement and began to follow his wife closely behind, "Who the Hell was that guy anyway? I mean… he didn't even really exist… did he?"

Martha rolled her eyes, "if the Doctor were here he would probably say something like 'nothing is impossible,' and I'd agree." Martha sunk her hands into her pockets and spun on her heels to face her husband, "but the Doctor's not here, we're on our own," she paused to glance around her surroundings and sighed, "quite literally, so the best thing to do is get on with it."

Mickey nodded, "I like the sound of that," he muttered as he took Martha's hand in his, "and we're not alone, Martha. We have each other."

Martha nodded vacantly as she stared out in front of her, "I wish that was enough."

The Dream Lord nodded approvingly as he opened his eyes once more. "Good, the loss of hope already so quickly into the game. I like it." He licked his upper lip and sighed, "But with that loss of hope comes a loss of opportunity, things must stay fresh. The fears must come later."

The Bad Wolf appeared on the London Street not moments after Martha and Mickey, but unlike the couple, she was unconcerned of the disorientation of a teleport. The Bad Wolf was powerful and it would take a lot more to weaken her. She glanced at her surroundings, seeing not only the street, but the atoms that it was made up of. The Bad Wolf took a step forward before she faltered, only slightly and only for such a short amount of time that a Human mind would not have even comprehended it. But it happened and somewhere from within, Rose could feel it too. A prisoner to her own mind, Rose thrashed to try and escape, but she couldn't. The Bad Wolf was too strong, nothing would stop her.

Except maybe the notion that something wasn't right.

The Bad Wolf could usually feel the Universe, see the Universe. The Bad Wolf could not only feel the turn of the Earth but the turn of every world that existed. She would see all that there was and all that there ever would be… but right there, standing on the street, the Bad Wolf felt nothing but her surroundings.

The Earth wasn't turning, the Universe was painfully quiet. There was suddenly no future of this world, no future for the people that were there. The Bad Wolf was blind to the Universe for the first time since time began… because the Bad Wolf wasn't in the Universe. Not anymore.

"The Dream Lord!" Rose cried through the Bad Wolf, but that was all she was able to say before the brightness that radiated from her body increased and her voice was lost. The Bad Wolf wouldn't stand for the petty human vessel speaking her mind. Right now, this world needed to be fixed. It needed to be brought back. And only the Bad Wolf could do this.

But she was blind. She was blind as her vessel screamed within her in so much agony. The Bad Wolf needed to feel to be of any use.

But then, as if it were a blessing, the Bad Wolf felt the presence of three others. Just three.

Mickey Smith, Martha Jones-Smith and Captain Jack Harkness.

Three people that the vessel knew. This was good, the Bad Wolf could feel the vessel's emotions and through that she was no longer blind. She could connect with their life signs and guide herself around this sorry excuse for a world. The Bad Wolf could do this; after all, she could do anything.

Jack lay on the floor, motionless. The voices and memories were fading from his mind, but he was still unable to move. He felt broken with all those things pushing against him. He could barely breathe. For the first time in a long time Captain Jack Harkness had actually wished to be killed. At least then he would have escaped the past if only for a few moments before reality laid her cold hand on his shoulder once more.

"Mickey, wait! I think I see something!"

A voice? Could it be? Was Jack not alone in this sick version of reality? Or was this just more memories… more voices of his past courtesy of the disembodied creature in his subconscious?

"Oh God, its Jack! He's… he's alive."

"Well of course he's alive!"

Was that…? No! Couldn't be, that was impossible. Two voices. Two voices that didn't sound broken or tortured, just filled with concern or perhaps ignorance on the male's part.

Hang on, had she said 'Mickey?'

Suddenly, there were warm fingers clasping around his shoulders as two pairs of hands lifted Jack onto his knees. Jack took in a gasp of needed breath, realising that he'd been suffocating himself from the stress of the memories. Everything blurred around him, but Jack clung on to the voices that he was hearing. The real voices. Martha… had to be! Who else could put up with Mickey Mouse?

"Jack, you idiot, don't give up on us now." Mickey said as he yanked Jack up into more of a standing position. Jack wavered dangerously and fell awkwardly against Mickey, but he was up. Martha and Mickey supported him carefully.

"Jack, Jack what happened?" Martha asked. Being a Doctor herself, Martha was always first to ask the questions. She assessed the immortal in front of her carefully. He wasn't injured, not physically, but the pain in Jack's old eyes told a story of mental fatigue. Something had been in his head.

"Jack, what happened? Who hurt you?" Martha asked, this time more calmly, her voice taking that of a medical superior. Jack would have grinned if he hadn't been so exhausted.

"Something," Jack muttered, "a guy… I think, eyes and… shoes, made me think things…" Jack paused to catch his breath as Mickey and Martha eased the immortal onto the pavement, "my past, he was putting me into my past." Jack shook his head, shocked with the flood emotion that overcame him. Suddenly he remembered the moment he had seen the man properly, if only for just a second.

His eyes.

"His eyes," Jack grabbed onto the cuff of Martha's shirt. Martha gasped in shock as Jack looked at her with such pleading eyes. He was… if it were possible… Jack was afraid.

"They were old eyes," Jack breathed, "The Doctor's eyes."

"Not the Doctor though," Mickey said quickly.

"What?" Jack asked, shocked, "what do you mean, how do you know?"

Martha pursed her lips as she took Jack by the shoulders and guided his gaze back to her, "He told us," she said simply, seeking realisation from Jack, "he told us his name was the Dream Lord."

"Yeah and he doesn't exist, not really… he kept doin' this magic trick, like he could disappear and reappear wherever." Mickey said dismissively with a shrug.

"Teleportation?" Jack asked, but spoke to Martha only. He was still recovering. Flesh wounds healed almost instantaneously, but when it came to the mind… those wounds never really closed.

Martha shook her head, "not really," she bit her lip, "he turned like static… he didn't really touch anything… not unless he wanted to."

Jack's eyes flickered as he processed all the information. He nodded to himself, "Dream Lord… so he's a Lord of Dreams, he can control…" he blinked, realisation hitting him hard, "he can control the mind… our dreams!"

"He said that he was going to exploit our fears," Mickey added with an eye roll, "gave us Hell at our flat."

"And he took you here," Jack narrowed his eyes as he focused more on his surroundings, "does this place look familiar to you?"

Martha shrugged, "maybe, it looks like any street 'round where we live."

Mickey frowned, "no." he said, "no, it's not… it's not like where we live now."

Martha looked at Mickey with questioning eyes, "what are you talking about?"

Mickey stood up from the pavement and lifted his arms, "the houses, don't they look familiar? Martha… this is your old street, where your mum lives!"

Martha squinted, trying to focus. It was hard. Everything was dark and hazy around her, she hadn't really looked at everything, she'd just been trying to figure out how to get out.

"Understand the environment…" Jack looked to Martha, "he's in our heads, he takes out information that should seem obvious to us and makes it hazy." Jack moved to stand up, but Martha brought him down, shaking her head.

"I'm fine." Jack insisted as he moved out of Martha's grip. He moved next to Mickey and breathed in a breath of the cold night air. He knew this air, the feel of it all too well, "this place looks like your hometown but has the atmosphere of a night I once worked in Cardiff, the night Gwen-" Jack cut himself off right then and there. The night Gwen Cooper had taken an interest in Torchwood, the night Gwen Cooper had seen the knife… the reason Gwen Cooper remembered Torchwood even after he administered her with Retcon. But Gwen was happy; she had a daughter to bring up. She insisted she'd keep in touch, but she had higher priorities and if Jack remained in New York, then she couldn't just simply visit him every other weekend.

Jack didn't speak any of this, but with the Dream Lord's favoured torture mechanism still fresh in his head, the memories became all too real for him. He decided to push the memory back, for the sake of his sanity.

Martha sat on the pavement silently as she processed what Jack had just said. Her eyes were vacant and glassy and for a second, Jack wondered whether the information was just too much for her to handle. Then, suddenly, as if she had never reacted like that in the first place, Martha Jones-Smith looked back up to Jack and Mickey and blew out a breath, "so none of this is real then?"

Jack shrugged, "we got teleported, not really the best known method of getting inside your head." Jack tapped his forehead as if to illustrate his point. He rolled his eyes and continued, "it could be a different reality, a world created by this Dream Lord, whatever that is… but the name, something tells me the Doctor would really be helpful in this kind of situation."

Mickey laughed gruffly, "maybe the guy's gonna stick the Doctor here too."

Martha's eyes glistened as she remembered the phone call, "I'm not sure about that."

Jack and Mickey both looked at Martha in the same instant, "what do you mean?" Jack implored.

Martha laughed half-heartedly as she remembered the conversation. She brushed herself down to stall for time before she moved over to Jack and her husband; "I tried to call the Doctor," Martha explained, "and for ages he didn't pick up but then after what felt like the hundredth time, this woman answered, she said her name was Amy."

Jack smiled slyly, "he really picks them up fast." He mused.

Martha shook her head, "Listen. She said the Doctor couldn't come to the phone and then suddenly there was this other voice, a man's… never caught his name. He said he wasn't the Doctor either and that he couldn't come to the phone because they didn't know where he was."

Jack frowned, "what did he mean?"

Martha shrugged, "that's what I didn't get. He said that the Doctor wasn't feeling himself."

Jack's mind sparked, "regeneration?" then he shook his head, expelling the thought as quickly as it had cropped up, "no… he can't have, not already."

Mickey nodded, "he came to you too?"

Jack looked at him, "oi," he frowned, slightly offended, "he knew me first."

Martha grinned, "Oh I bet he did."

Jack couldn't help but smirk to that prospect; still, he didn't have time to waste on his private fantasies, "he came to me at an alien bar, gave me the name of someone I wanted to chat up." Jack smiled at the fond memory, but then his eyes became graver, "he gave me this look, like, I dunno, it just told me everything I needed to know."

Martha nodded along, "he saved us from a Sontaran, but didn't even stick around to say hello, just looked at us." Martha looked over to Mickey, seeking comfort, and he was there for her before she'd even finished fully forming the thought. Mickey linked his fingers through her hand and she squeezed it, needing the reassurance, "we just knew." She said finally.

Jack nodded, sighing, "so something's wrong with the Doctor… or he's missing or…" Jack shrugged, unable to finish, "and now we're stuck here… in someone's sick game."

Martha sighed as she looked out at the dank London street, her home, or at least a version of it; "now what?"

The Dream Lord laughed as he opened his eyes, "now?" He grinned, loving the question, loving the possibilities. He raised his arms with a determined smile, "now, you meet your first fear!"

Ever since the Doctor had found out who was behind Martha and Mickey's abduction, his health had worsened considerably. On the way back to the TARDIS, the Doctor didn't even fight the support that Amy and Rory gave him to get there. In fact, if anything, he relied on it.

The Doctor had now started to sneeze every few minutes which made him only the more frustrated. He really didn't have time to be sick when the Dream Lord had kidnapped his ex-companions. Still, Amy and Rory were growing worried for him. The Time Lord practically radiated heat and they both felt tempted to force the alien into bed, but at the same time they couldn't. They were forced to help him go on because they knew that if he didn't, his companions could suffer, but at the same time they were risking his health in trying to make him do the right thing – which in affect – made what they were making him do not the right thing. It was far too complicated.

Amy remained by the Doctor's side long after they had entered the TARDIS. Anyone could see the Time Lord was furious. Honestly, he had no idea what to do. Whatever was happening, it wasn't just run-of-the-mill Dream Lord trickery… he was more powerful, he had to be.

Amy rubbed the Doctor's shoulders in an attempt to alleviate some stress as Rory began pacing to and from the TARDIS console; "how is he doing this?" Rory wondered aloud.

The Doctor – who was leaning heavily against the console – looked up to meet Rory's gaze, "what do you mean?" he asked.

Rory frowned, "you know what I mean. The Dream Lord puts people to sleep and controls what they dream; you said he couldn't mess with reality."

The Doctor let out a breath, which led to a sneeze which then turned into a coughing fit. Amy gingerly patted the Doctor on the back, finding a rhythm that seemed to ease the fit if she applied it long enough. After the Doctor had returned to simply panting, she handed him a wad of tissues that she'd salvaged from the bathroom just after they'd re-boarded the TARDIS. The Doctor took them gratefully and blew his nose before looking back to Rory, "good question… and I'm not sure." The Doctor sighed, "not really got the mind to think about it and I hate not being able to think." The Doctor hit the side of his head, "I'm useless this way." He muttered.

For a brief moment, the Doctor was silent and Rory wondered whether that was his answer, but then suddenly the Time Lord picked up again, "The Dream Lord is part of me, but the psychic pollen is what turns him into a body. In theory, if my mind was weak enough, he could climb out without the use of psychic pollen."

"But there was pollen in the flat," Amy said, not quite sure if she was following.

The Doctor snapped his fingers and pointed to Amy. Usually the gesture would have been followed through with a grin and an energetic sparkle in his eye, but the Doctor just didn't have the energy to force his usual mannerisms any more, "you're right," he said, "but in my theory, if the Dream Lord was strong enough, he could create the pollen which would make him able to go anywhere… as long as that anywhere has been in my head."

"That narrows it down," Rory said sarcastically, "I mean where haven't you been?"

The Doctor furrowed his brow, "can't even say the end of the Universe any more," he muttered to himself before stifling a cough. Amy was ready to start thumping his back again, but the Doctor raised his hand to stop her. "The Dream Lord is smart, I should know," he rolled his eyes to himself, "oh shut up, I'm sick," he muttered as he forced himself up into a straighter standing position, "what I'm trying to say is he wouldn't just go anywhere, he'd go to places that he'd know would hurt me."

Amy and Rory nodded along, "so people you've known in the past, your friends," Amy said, "Martha and Mickey…" she frowned, "but what will he do?"

The Doctor shrugged, "I don-choo" he groaned and rubbed his nose with another tissue before carrying on, "I don't know, but it won't be good. It never is."

"How do we find him, then?" Amy implored.

"I don't know." The last part of his sentence was so strong and filled with spite that Amy stepped back from the Doctor in shock. She'd seen the Doctor angry before, but after seeing the darkness that consumed him in Mercy, she didn't know how dark he was willing to go.

The Doctor sighed and rubbed his face with the hand that wasn't helping him keep standing against the TARDIS. Rory could see that the Doctor was in no shape for this, he ideally needed to be resting, if the way his fringe stuck to his face in heaps of sweat wasn't enough, then the fact it looked like he was about ready to collapse was. "I-I'm sorry," the Doctor stuttered, unable to even keep his eyes open. Amy moved back next to the Doctor, any darkness in him was forgotten. He needed her help and Amy would never let her imaginary friend down. Ever.

"You need to rest," Amy whispered into the Doctor's ear.

"I can't, haven't you been listening?" the Doctor hissed, coughing into his sleeve harshly.

Rory moved over to him, "you've been overlooking your symptoms. Whatever has happened to your friends, we won't be able to move further in the investigation if you can't think straight."

The Doctor shook his head, "No… I have to-"

"And what about the TARDIS?" Amy added, "you're making her sicker as well, even if we did find out where your friends were, how would we get to them?"

The Doctor opened his mouth to argue, but the couple were having none of it.

"Doctor, sometimes you have to sacrifice some time to make the rest of it more productive," Rory said as the couple grabbed the Doctor on either side. The Doctor would have protested if it wasn't for the fact that he could no longer walk without assistance. His body was drained and he didn't even know why. All he knew was that he needed to be of use, but somehow he didn't think resting was going to cut it.

Even as he was led away from the console room, he thought, just for a second, that he heard a dark laugh emanating somewhere from within his own mind.