Author's note: Hi there! A (relatively) quick update today! I hope you'll like this chapter, because I had a lot of fun writing it. Let me know!

Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who or any of its characters, settings or plots.

10.

John still couldn't grasp what had happened. They had been sitting at the kitchen table, having a nice cup of tea. It had been a very ordinary day, a boring day even. One moment, she had been there. The next she was gone.

John looked at his wife, who was sitting in the old wing back chair in the corner of the living room. She stared out the window, not really seeing anything at all, and she didn't look up when he said her name.

'Rose,' he tried again. She turned her head slightly. Not enough to look at him, but enough to show him she was listening. 'Do you want to eat something? I can set the table. We could all have lunch together?'

Rose shook her head. 'I'm not hungry.' She went back to staring out the window.

John sighed. She wasn't taking care of herself, and she wouldn't let him help her. She had been going on like this for a week. John was starting to get desperate.

They had tried everything, everything, to get their eldest daughter back, but it had been hopeless. They had no idea where she'd gone. She seemed to have vanished off the face of the Earth, which, as they both knew, was quite easily within the realm of possibilities. But how do you search an entire planet, an entire solar system, an entire universe?

They had asked Torchwood and UNIT of course, but when nothing had worked, Rose had become depressed. She sat in that old wing back chair day in, day out, and looked out the window to see if her daughter would come home.

'Daddy?'

John looked up from the book he was reading. It was a sunny afternoon, and it was his turn to watch Immy. The day was far too nice to be spent inside their apartment, so he'd taken her to a nearby park.

'Yes, sweetie, what is it?'

'When I grow up, I wanna be as tall as the sky.' She lifted one of her dolls up towards the sun to illustrate what she meant.

'And why is that?' John asked, genuinely interested now.

'So I can clear away all the clouds and the sun will always shine.'

John smiled as Immy continued playing. Every time he looked at his daughter, he realised how phenomenally happy he was. More than he could ever have imagined. The last four years had been the best years of his life. He, Rose and their little girl. He was sure it was meant to be.

Of course, like any child, Immy sometimes threw a tantrum, didn't always eat her vegetables and could wake her parents up at 5 am on Sunday mornings. But he and Rose could never have been happier about their little 'accident' in the end. They had decided not to have any more children, however, or at least not for the next few years. They wanted to move out of their two-bedroom apartment first. They'd love a house with a garden for Immy to play in…

Raindrops woke him from his reverie. He looked up to the sky. Grey clouds had darkened the sky, and little drops had started to fall down.

'Too bad you're not tall yet,' he said to Immy. 'Or you could've made those ugly clouds disappear. Let's go home.'

She gathered her toys, and put her little hand in his as they walked home.

'You listen to me, young lady!' John heard Rose shout upstairs. He smiled smugly. He was glad it wasn't his turn to tuck her in.

Lately, Immy didn't want to go to bed anymore. She would hide, cry, scream, kick, run and do everything in her power to stay up, or to sleep in the big bed with them. They didn't know what had caused it. It had started so suddenly. She had always been such a sweet child.

He heard Immy crying loudly, and Rose telling her to lie down. They had been living in their new house for a few weeks when she had suddenly begun doing this. John didn't understand why. The house was perfect for them. Immy seemed happy here. They had a garden now, and two extra bedrooms upstairs. The first few weeks, everything had been fine; she had gone to bed at her usual time, and had fallen asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow.

Then, suddenly, she had started asking to stay up longer. She came to their bed in the middle of the night, and she would come downstairs countless times before finally falling asleep. More often than not, they would have to sit with her and wait until she was finally dreaming, or they would let her fall asleep on the sofa and carry her to bed.

It was becoming a serious problem. They had tried to ask her why she didn't want to sleep, but the subject wouldn't usually arise before bedtime, and by then, she was too hysterical to be able to answer.

Rose entered the living room. 'I got her in bed at last,' she sighed. 'Had to leave the lights on, though.'

'Well, if it stops her coming down again…'

'Let's hope so.' She sat down on the sofa, next to him, and lied down sideways, with her head on his lap. 'I don't understand why she acts like this,' Rose mumbled. 'What is she afraid of?

'I don't know,' John answered. He softly pulled his fingers through Rose's hair. They watched the telly in silence for a while, but it wasn't long before the dreaded moment came; they heard little feet on the stairs and a few moments later the living room door opened. They couldn't see her immediately, but she spoke as soon as she opened the door, afraid that they might send her back upstairs before she'd have had a change to explain herself.

'Muuuuuum,' she began. They could hear she'd been crying. 'I don't – I don't – I don't want to sleeeeeep,' she hiccupped. Rose sat up, sighing.

'I'll go,' John said quickly. He took Immy's hand and led her through the door. She began crying dramatically and held on to the doorframe, trying to resist. When that didn't work, she let herself fall to the floor and tried to wriggle her hand free from his. This didn't work either, though; John easily picked her up and carried her up the stairs. She tried everything she could to free herself, but he had a tight hold on her. They had reached her bed now, and she started screaming even more hysterically.

Instead of trying to get her to lie down, John sat down on the bed, Immy on his lap, his arms around her. She pressed her face to his chest, and he rocked back and forth a bit, hoping it would calm her down. Her cries grew quieter and less frantic, and after ten minutes, she was only crying silently. John looked down at her. He could see she was very tired, though she obviously did her best to fight it.

'Imogen?' he asked. 'Why don't you want to go to sleep?'

Immy started crying again, though not as fiercely as before. She stopped again after a few minutes.

'Immy, please tell me. I'm your dad, I can help you,' he tried again.

Immy was hiccupping and breathing shakily, but then, to his surprise, she started speaking.

'At night there's noises,' she said quietly. 'The house makes noises.'

'Oh, sweetie, that's just the house settling!' John said, almost laughing with the relief of finding out what was wrong.

Immy wrapped her arms around his neck and cried into his shirt. 'No, it's not,' she wailed. 'There are monsters. They want to eat me!'

'Of course not, sweetheart. Monsters don't exist. Well… Usually they're just misunderstood aliens, but–' He stopped abruptly and cleared his throat. 'What you hear is the wind blowing around the house. You couldn't hear that in our old apartment, but that's all right. It's just the wind.'

'It's always so dark outside,' she whimpered. 'I can see monsters walking around the house.'

'There are no monsters, love,' John reassured her. 'And even if there were, they will never get inside the house. Mum and I lock the doors and windows every night.' He hugged her tighter to his chest. 'There's nothing you have to be afraid of. I will always protect you.' He leaned back a bit and looked at his daughter's face. Her eyes were closed. 'Are you sleeping?' She shook her head. 'But it's about time you were,' he mumbled. He stood up from the bed, tucked her in and kissed her forehead.

'Do you want me to leave the lights on?' he asked as he walked away from her bed. She didn't answer anymore. He smiled, and switched them off.

'We've got a surprise for you!' Rose exclaimed. She and John had just come back from a doctor's appointment.

'Really?' Immy asked excitedly.

'In about six months, you'll have a little brother or sister!'

'Oh…'

'Aren't you happy about that?' John asked.

Immy shrugged. 'I dunno,' she said. 'I remember Miss Elsie having a baby two years ago. She showed her at school once. It didn't look like much fun. She was just sort of lying there.'

'But this will be different!' Rose said. 'This is your little brother or sister. Someone to play with!'

Immy shook her head. 'They aren't any fun to play with until they're at least three, and by then, I'll be fourteen.'

'Imogen, I promise you'll love having a little brother or sister.'

Immy shrugged again and turned around. 'It's probably going to cry all the time,' she mumbled as she stalked off.

Clang!

Immy looked at them in shock, clearly not aware of the fact that she had just dropped her fork.

'Again?' she asked them, unable to believe what they'd told her.

'Yeah,' Rose answered casually. 'Twins, too.'

'But – but – Sam's not even one year old yet!' She pointed at her little brother in his high chair.

'We're aware of that,' John answered dryly while Rose wiped some mashed carrots from the toddler's chin.

Immy huffed and walked off to her room. Rose grinned at John. 'Told you,' she said.

'Oh, she'll lighten up.'

'I know. She did the first time, anyway.' She fed Sam another spoonful of mashed carrots and cooed: 'Your big sister loves you, doesn't she?'

'You said we were going to look at a house.'

'We are. Here it is.'

'This is not a house. This is a church.'

'Yeah!' John beamed. 'And it's for sale! Don't you love it? You gotta think of the possibilities!'

Immy giggled. 'All right, I'll give it a chance.'

She followed her parents inside, and looked up in awe. At the other end of the enormous room was a magnificent organ.

'Can I play it? Please?'

She saw her father's face lit up in excitement for a moment, but then he shot a look at his wife. He cleared his throat. 'Better not, maybe.'

'But daaaad,' she pleaded, 'we're not just going to let it gather dust, are we?'

'But sweetheart, you don't even know how to play,' Rose interjected.

'I'll make you a deal,' John said. 'If we buy this house, you can practice on… this!' He sprinted towards one of the walls and pulled a dusty piece of velvet from an old upright piano. 'And if you get the hang of it, you can play the organ. If it still works, that is.'

She looked at her mum, who in turn looked at John with an expression of love and amusement. She smiled.

'Deal.'

John and Rose were sitting at the kitchen table, having a cup of tea. They sat in silence, listening to Immy playing the piano in the other room. When they had renovated the church, there was room in between the kitchen and the living room with which they could not decide what to do. Immy had asked if she could put the old piano there, and they had agreed.

Immy had picked up playing the piano very quickly. They could almost hear her improving every day. John and Rose had allowed her to play the organ, which was now in the great open space near the staircase, but she had stopped after a few tries, saying she actually preferred the piano.

The song in the background flowed to an end, and a new one started. John smiled at Rose. They both knew this song; it was one of Immy's favourites. Rose took another sip of tea and closed her eyes.

Suddenly, the music stopped. Well, that was an understatement. The music hadn't just stopped: it had quite literally disappeared. There wasn't even a lingering harmony or an echo. There was just total silence.

Puzzled, Rose looked up. Her eyes met John's. This was strange. Immy wouldn't normally stop playing halfway through a song, especially not this one.

'Immy?' Rose called. 'Immy, you alright?'

There was no reply.

Rose got up. 'Imogen?' She walked to the door that led to the piano room and opened it. She looked inside, shrieked, and closed it quickly.

'What is it?' John asked. He walked over to her and opened the door as well.

He could not believe what he was seeing. Or maybe he didn't want to believe. The whole room was gone. Or actually, it wasn't. The room itself was still there, the walls, the windows… but the interior had gone: all of the furniture had vanished, the wooden floor was gone, even the paint wasn't on the walls anymore. He stared at the completely empty room, at the concrete floor and the bare brick walls… there was no trace of his daughter.

Shock washed over his face, and he turned sideways to look at Rose, seeing his expression mirrored on hers. He took a few steps forward and looked around, trying to see where she could possibly have gone. A silly, nonsensical voice in his head said that this was a trick, that this was some sort of prank and Immy was hiding in the garden, but he knew that couldn't possibly have happened. Nobody could strip an entire room of its interior in mere seconds.

He looked at his wife in horror, and then they both ran to the door on the other side of the room. Their younger children were playing in the living room. Had they all disappeared?

John stormed through the door, closely followed by Rose. The little girls looked up, but Sam paid no attention to his parents, his eyes trained on the television.

Rose let out a shaky breath. John extended his hand out towards her, but she crouched down and gave the twins a kiss on the top of their heads.

She rose to her feet again and took John's hand. 'Come on,' she said. 'We gotta find her.'

They walked back to the piano room, and froze when they entered it. Everything had returned to its place. The floor, the paint, the curtains, the furniture… everything except their daughter.

'Rose, please eat something,' John tried again. 'Or don't, if you don't want to, but please get off that chair.' Rose didn't react. 'Rose,' John repeated, louder now. 'Rose, she's my daughter too, but you don't see me moping all day, do you? We've got more kids, Rose, who need their parents! And I can't do it all alone! They need you. I need you!'

Rose didn't say anything. She didn't move. He didn't even know whether she'd heard him.