A/N:- Torchwood gone; David Tennant going; Russell T Davies retiring… *blows sombrely into trumpet* Tis all fading away… But Stephan Moffat's plot to start on a CLEAN SLATE, with no repercussions or appearances from the past, is slowly unravelling and DooooooMING mah life! S'not fair. Hmmm, perhaps more chapters to go than I first thought.

Anyway. THANKSIES VAIR VAIR MUCHLY FOR YOUR REVIEWS!! TIS ALL GROOVILY GRASS COMMENTS…

Disclaimer: What more can I say? No-one owns Torchwood anymore, 'cos there isn't one, and Doctor Who – HELLOOOOO! They'll be getting The VISIT from moi vair vair soonio! EHE HEHE!

=D =D =D

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3rd Person POV

The sky was a smooth, untouched blue, daubed with soft, cotton bud clouds and perfected by the blinding, yellow softball that played the sun. The grass swayed in the breeze and the smell of morning dew could still be smelt in the air, as the wind whistled and the birds hummed. The large building of Union Hospital loomed over the large back garden, the walls white-washed and speckled, the window frames glossy, bright red, and the door a fresh, azure blue. It was clearly the picture-perfect vista – fit for an art gallery.

But then… As if a child spilling water over a painting, the scenery began to falter. The bright greens, vibrant yellows, glossy reds, cotton whites, soft blues; they all rippled and suddenly merged together to form an unhealthy, fuzzy splodge of brown. For, the atmosphere began to ripple, wrinkle and shudder; softening the hard bricks of Time and Space, as the colours blended together and became spoilt… And slap-bang in the middle of it all, the air was ripped in half and a large, black hole formed, spilling out six hunched figures.

"Third time today!" Martha groaned. "My head's killin' me."

"Not so bad after a while," Jack laughed, getting up and stretching his back. He shot her a wicked grin and waggled his eyebrows suggestively. "I could always, oh I don't know… kiss it better?!"

"Shut up."

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"Are you planning on tell me what's happening to you?"

He gazed at me piercingly, as if trying to x-ray me.

I shook my head. What the hell? It felt… wrong just shaking my head. A throb pulsated at the back of my head – almost as if someone banging against the walls of my mind... I shivered. Nah, that couldn't be right, either. Unless… Now that would just be plain creepy.

"Do you know what's going on?"

I shook my head. Another throb at the back of head. Stupid, sensitive brain.

He cocked his head to one side and raised an eyebrow, if I knew him any better – which I didn't; I would've interpreted his expression as… cheeky. "You going to talk to me at all? 'Cos, I'd have no problems talking to the wall but…"

I glared at him, but shook my head anyway.

There was a grinding at the back of my head. Breathing heavily - for no apparent reason, I closed my eyes, and clamped a hand over my mouth before another spontaneous word had the chance to elope my mouth. My mind jumped, and I almost said something, but I bit whatever it was back - gulping. Eurgh, that didn't feel so good. I sunk back into the pillow, and leaned back, sucking back the sudden feeling of nausea that threatened to overwhelm me.

As stupid as it sounded, I suddenly felt as if I could actually, I dunno, control what came out of my mouth. But every time I managed to fight back what I was saying… my brain sorta protested and tried to make me change my decision.

Blimey, this was strange. And very weird.

"Let me rephrase the question," the man-who-still-hadn't-introduced-himself-and-was-staring-at-me-like-some-sort-of-strange-test subject said, leaning back against a chest of drawers. Looking at him from a distance, he was skinny. Very, very skinny. He wasn't anorexic, was he? He had some great, and I mean great hair, though. Wait, where did I get that from? "Is this you talking? Rose Tyler talking?"

I tilted my head to one side, frowning and furrowing my brow. Hang on; was this one of those trick questions? Who was me?! Was he talking about me, me, or was he rattling on about "Rose Tyler", me? This was flipping confusing, alright. For someone who could rattle on at 100 miles per hour, and judging by the techno-babble, was a proper geek, he certainly wasn't specific or making any sense whatsoever. Rude, too.

Rude and not ginger. I practically jumped out of my skins. Who said that? It sounded like… Right, he's called Big Hair, from now on. Anyway, the voice sounded like Big hair. I stared at him in confusion, and looked at him impatiently, but he looked completely perplexed. Not him alright, but then, who? Great, now I was imagining and hearing things. I'd look into that later, first I had a question to answer.

Blowing out hot breath, I pursed my lips and settled for a nod-of-the-head. (Cue the banging in my head.) It was the safest option to answer with. Cos, if I "said" no, then maybe Big Hair might suddenly launch onto me and attack me with his geeky powers, trying to cut me up and experiment on me. What?! Don't get me wrong, but Big Hair seemed that type of person. At least from what I'd judged so far. He wasn't doing to well on first impressions. Especially on the name front.

Anyway. Big Hair didn't seem very happy, or satisfied with my answer. Instead, he stared deep into my eyes for about two seconds, before he propped himself up off the drawers, and took long strides towards me. My eyes widened. OK. Not so good. Maybe he was going to use his geeky powers to attack me, strap me down, cut me up, and experiment on me anyway.

I seriously started to reckon I was going mad then, but screwed my eyes up tight anyway, and backed my, err, back up against the headboard and pillow. Two fingers were placed at either side of my temples, and I wrenched an eye open, squinting.

OK, so no attacks maybe, but it looked like Big Hair was going to do that "mind reading" thing again.

"I won't bite," Big Hair suddenly exclaimed, releasing his grip, and calmly putting his hands up in surrender. "I swear. You can check my dietary habits. You can even bite me if you really want."

I smacked him, and big surprise, was accompanied by a sudden jolt at the back of my head. This was really starting to annoy me. Did I seriously have a miniature, little person hiding in there or something? Just what was it with me, and choosing what I wanted to do?

Soon enough, his hands were back at either sides of my head, and I felt the familiar buzz of his mind seeking entrance into mine. I did what I did before, and opened a door, preparing to mentally "open" it. But, as soon as I scarcely edged the door open, SLAM! The door was banged shut again. I tried again. SLAM! Again. SLAM!

"Rose, what's happening?" he said into my mind.

"I don't know," I replied, ignoring his first word. "It's not me. I'll try again." (Hey, I could actually talk in my own mind without getting disturbed, by some blimming throb or jolt or something! That was a first.)

Barely registering the thought, I quickly swung the door open and his mind flooded into mind before… SLAM!

"OUCH!" I heard him cry out. "It's OK. I'm fine, I'm fine. Getting half of your mental, psychic projection trapped in a psychological door: not a nice feeling. Never try it. Don't worry, I'm out. Just the one question: was that you?"

"Me, what?"

"Splitting the atom. I mean, was that youwho slammed the... the…"

"Door?"

"Yeah, that was it, thanks. Was it you who slammed the door on me?"

"No, it was like, something else. A different force or summat. Not me."

I couldn't understand what was happening! It worked before, but it was as if another… force or something was going against my wishes.

"Right, you might not know it, but I know you feel it sometimes, Rose – there's something hiding in there. Deep in the depths of your mind – waiting, hiding."

"From who?"

"Me. It can smell me, probably; it knows I'm here. That's why it tried to lock me out and I need to know why. Because if I don't like it…Anyway. It's hidden so deep that even I can't find it anywhere, or smell even the slightest whiff of it. But, I'll tell you what I can do."

"What?"

"Track it."

"But, how? You just said you couldn't smell it or find it anywhere, so how can you trace it?"

"For it to have been able to manipulate your mind and have the pure genius to try and lock me out, it must've crawled out of its hidey-hole to come and do that. It must've drained a whole lot of its energy, so much, that it can't have remembered, or had the strength to hide its residual genetic energy footprints. Apologies for the invasion of privacy, but you have nothing for me to see or for you to hide anyway."

"Why, what are you going to do?"

"I'll have to trip into your brainwaves, and use my super-sniffing skills to hunt down the residual energy and—AAAAAARGH!"

"What's wrong?!" I yelled frantically.

"This force. It's overtaking my br—AAARGH!"

Oh no, oh no, oh no – this wasn't happening. I began to panic. I felt a venomous, painful sting at the back of my mind and something charged forward.

"LEAVE HER ALONE, MAN!" a feminine voice hissed, and in my head, I saw it. This… wolf. It stood proud and tall, on all four paws, teeth bared and ears pricked. It was bathed in a swirling, incandescent, golden light – pulsing with life, and full of such power. I could feel it reach out to me. "You, John Smith, may think you are saving and protecting her, but you are not. You are damaging her mind. She is at peace. Do not let her suffer again. It is I who is protecting her, not you. She is safe; I do not lie. Now leave. I am warning you again. LEAVE ROSE TYLER ALONE! She is safe with me…I promise you."

"WHO ARE YOU?"I screamed out to the wolf in the light.

"I, my child, am your protector, your guide, your shield; you could call me the Bad W--"

"Bad WHAT!?" I cried out desperately.

"I am the Bad Wo--"

There was a cry of anguish, and I could clearly tell it was Big Hair's doing. There was a bolt of what seemed like golden-blue electricity, and it surged forward, pelting the wolf full in the stomach and sending it hurtling backwards. There was a cry of punctured pain, and I felt a guilty, almost pitiful churn low in the pit of my stomach...

The pressure on my temples was released.

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I gasped, my eyes instantly snapped open and I bolted right up, sweat was trickling down my head and my breath was ragged and uneven. And I had one killer of a headache.

But the sight on the floor made my heart leap. Big Hair (or "John Smith" as that wolf thing had called him) was laid messily strewn on the smooth marble of the floor, writhing and riving and muttering furiously. Beads of sweat poured down his face, and he looked as if he were in pure torture. I didn't know what to do. My eyes swam around the room, and I couldn't think or know what to do. My body refused to respond to my attempted movements, and all they seemed to do was seize up and go to sleep.

I tried to reach for the big, red button that hung down my IV, but as soon as my fingertips reached them – the whole device cluttered to the floor, slipping behind the radiator. It was a very stupid place to put a radiator, especially because I couldn't get help.

Big Hair abruptly gasped, and sat right up, blinking madly. I froze on the spot, staring at him, as he propped himself up on the edge of my bed.

"I thought I'd got rid of it, back on the Game station. Well, at least I thought the proper Doctor, my twin, had gotten rid of it and taken it all out of you. But, obviously, we thought wrong," he babbled, hypothetically to me. "But you've never ceased to amaze me, 'cos it seems to be me that a little fragment of the Vortex is clinging onto life, slap-bang in your brain! And it's got one heck of a power supply, judging by its--"

He suddenly groaned in brain, and his hands squeezed either side of his head – face contorted, body shivering. He was doing it again! Oh, help. Painstakingly, I crawled across the bed and clambered over to his side.

"That thing in your head, the wolf; it fried my brain. Didn't want me to find it,"

"So? What does that mean? I don't know what to do. I don't know what you mean! Tell me what to do! What's wrong with you? I can help! Please, tell me," I begged, fighting against the thing in my head, who was blatantly trying to make me say completely different words.

Big Hair simply looked up at me, with red, bloodshot eyes, and released another croaky gasp.

"He's here," he rasped.

I stared at him, in perplexity. But this time, the words did just jump out of my mouth, "Who's here? Who's he? The doctor?"

"Yes, the Doctor's here. He's brought Torchwood with him. They've come to find you. You have to go and find him."

"Who's Torchwood? Are they nurses? Doctors? Blacksmiths?!" I tried, in a vain attempt. The thing in my head, as Big Hair so solely liked to call it, decided to jump out and in a voice that wasn't mine, I said, "They've come. The Immortal and the Lord of Time have come. And they've brought company… "

Suddenly, the blonde female, by the name of Jackie bounded into the room and shrieked.

"Oh my goodness! What's wrong with John? ROSE?" I gazed at her.

"Look after him," I said simply.

And I don't know how I did it, but I leapt off my bed (somehow) and ran; ran out the door; ran down the corridor and just... ran. I didn't know why; I didn't know how, but I just did. Whether it was my own actions or not, my brain didn't seem to consider it. All that my mind seemed to be intent on was to run, and to find something, someone that I didn't even know.

That's when I saw them. All six of them cascading down the corridor, eyes flicking from left to right. But the one at the front stood out; the one in the brown pinstripes and bearing scruffy, big, brown hair. He looked exactly like Big Hair… Only in brown instead of blue pinstripes. I prayed and hoped that I wasn't hallucinating.

Because one voice in my head seemed to tell me just the one thing. He knew me, and I knew him… As the Doctor.

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A/N:- Abrupt-ish ending! YAY! Another short chapter, SORRY! It wouldn't have worked otherwise. Series 4 In Red, Yellow, and Brown will probs be updated TOMORROW. Out almost the whole day, today…

Me luuurves reviews! Isn't that enough of a hint?! HEEHAW!