Author's Note: TW below.

What Dreams May Come

Chapter Thirty-One

Doctor 2.0

Trust me. I'm the Doctor.

The Doctor. Molly knew he wasn't ready for any serious conversation, but before they moved on to the next adventure, there was something that she needed to say.

"Doctor," she began, and then hesitated, uncertain how to continue.

"Yes?" He stopped in his work, and turned toward her. "Molly Quinn?"

She smiled a little at her full name. "I just needed to say…" There was so much that needed saying. So many feelings mixed up in her head, multiple reasons her heart was thudding in her chest. But there was the truest sentiment above it all that summed the rest into two, neat words: "Thank you."

"For what?"

"' For what'?" she repeated, incredulously. "For saving my life. You sacrificed your regeneration energy for me."

"Oh. Well. It's nothing." He turned and began walking around the console, but she grabbed his wrist to stop him from walking away.

"It's not nothing. It's…" She was at a loss for words. Once upon a time, that never happened to her. Around him, it seemed to happen all the time. "It's not just that you saved my life. You've saved my life a lot, lately. But…what you did…burning off your regeneration energy to save me…that's something. That's a lot of something." She moved around him so she could look him in the eye. "I remember you did that for River, on the show. And she got angry, and I never fully understood why until you did it for me. It feels so much bigger now, so much more important, that use of regeneration energy. According to the show, it's going to cost you in some way, and I didn't want that. But I'm sorry I got angry, I am. I just understand River getting angry a little better." She sighed. "I know, back at the beginning, after our fight, you said you'd protect me, and now that you know what happened you know how important that was to me. And then you did this, sacrificing something important to help me, and I just needed you to know how much that means to me, separate from just saving my life. We're already best friends and all, but this really feels like our friendship is deeper for me, somehow. I don't know how to explain it." It was like he should be a permanent fixture in her life now, but that wasn't possible. She ran her fingers through her hair. "I don't know. I'm making a disaster of this. I just wanted to say thank you, in a deep, meaningful way, but deep isn't really my thing."

His smile was fond. "I think you're doing just fine," he replied. "And I'm very, very glad we're best friends."

It wasn't much of a reply compared to her waterfall of words, but maybe it was better that it was so simple. She'd learned that the slightest praise or appreciation from him could be overwhelming, for one. For another, that he was willing to do that for her was such a simple thing to him made it mean even more to her. That in itself was overwhelming.

Time to shrink him down again. "I mean, the TARDIS is still my best best friend, but you're definitely in permanent second place."

"Oi," he objected. "That's not fair. It's not like the TARDIS chats with you." He paused, and looked confused for a moment. He leaned in to whisper, " Does the TARDIS chat with you?"

Molly laughed, shaking her head. "No. No, she doesn't. But she still makes what she thinks pretty clear." Of course, thus far, what the TARDIS seemed to think was that she was a slob who made a decent messenger service and someone in need of judgmental looks to keep her from invading the Doctor's privacy, but so long as Molly kept complimenting her, she felt sure she'd win the TARDIS over. After all, she'd also given her a dance studio. Maybe the rest was just how the TARDIS teased her, the way Molly teased the Doctor.

"Right," said the Doctor with a smile. "Well. Where do you want to go?"

Molly shrugged. "I don't know. Somewhere space-y." She paused. "I mean, not literal space, given, you know…" She paused, assuming the pause would tell him enough.

"Given…?"

"You know, the terrified of space thing."

"Terrified of space thing. Right. Spaceship, but you're terrified of space. I know." He spun around the console, taking a close look at the controls. "Then what did you mean by 'space-y'?"

"Like a planet or something. I don't know about any of them, so you'll have to pick. Again." Someday, she'd figure out a good place to ask to visit. She couldn't remember the last time she'd requested a place since the 90s. Was the roller-skating her idea?

"Well, it's a good thing I'm good at picking," he said, rubbing his hands together. The excitement in his eyes seemed even more intense than it had been lately. "Anything particular you want to see?"

"Hmmm." She turned and leaned against one of the railings, stepping around the cards still left on the floor to get there, and looked up at the spinning Gallifreyan and the light of the TARDIS. "Maybe another place where we can interact with the animals? I know I was a bit freaked out at first, but I think I'm more ready for them now." She liked animals, but the safari on Hatch had been a little concerning at the start. She remembered all the stories of people on safaris at home who got attacked by something or other for doing something stupid, and she was well renowned for doing something stupid.

The Doctor snapped his fingers and pointed at her with a grin. "I have the perfect place," he said, turning to begin inputting the coordinates into the TARDIS.

"Where to?"

"Hatch!" He exclaimed. "You can go on a little safari, filled with wild animals who really enjoy being pet."

Molly felt a crease form between her brows. "We already did Hatch. That's what I was talking about."

The Doctor froze for the briefest second, then smiled back at her. "Well, of course we did. Silly me." He ran a hand down his face. "I'm getting old. Mind's starting to go. How about Everywhere? It has a little bit of various places on Earth throughout time, and bits of other planets, too. They have a petting zoo with over fifty kinds of goats."

Hatch. Everywhere. Something was wrong. Trust me, I'm the Doctor.

Molly's stomach dropped, and she felt a sharp pain in her chest as her heart literally skipped a beat. Trust me, I'm the Doctor. The words kept bouncing around in her head. I'm the Doctor. I'm the Doctor. I'm the Doctor.

She smiled, and crossed her fingers behind her back. This lie had to go well. It had to. She had to know. "You know what, actually? You promised me a rainstorm on D'Gups Alpha, remember? You said it was really pretty, and I want a storm to run through. I love the feel of rain." She got away with it, likely because most of it was truth.

"Right you are! Rainstorm on D'Gups Alpha," he began inputting the new coordinates. "Funny name. Did I ever tell you about it?"

She couldn't scream. She couldn't scream. She couldn't scream. "No, no. No, you didn-" Her voice was shaking so hard it failed. She cleared her throat and tried again. "You didn't tell me. You should tell me. Now."

He looked up at her, and she imagined he could see the scream in her body language, the way she was tense but her hands trembled, the way she leaned into the rail to get as much space between them as possible, the way her eyes were wide, the way she bit at the skin on her bottom lip.

He sighed heavily. "We already did D'Gups Alpha, didn't we?"

"Yeah." She barely heard the word herself.

"And Everywhere?"

"Yeah."

"Course we did," he said, sounding disappointed. "We're the same person. We'd have the same ideas for places to take you."

Trust me, I'm the Doctor. But he wasn't the Doctor.

"Where's the Doctor?" Molly had wanted it to sound like a demand, but it came out as a pleading whisper.

" I'm the Doctor."

"You know what I mean. The real Doctor."

"I'm the real Doctor," he insisted, now walking around the console to stand across from her. He had the decency to keep a few feet between them, but she still inched a few steps to the side, further from him. "The moment I set foot on the TARDIS, I stopped being Flesh. I'm a real, proper flesh and blood Time Lord now. The real Doctor."

"You're not the real Doctor," Molly insisted. She felt sick with fear, but her mind was providing her with anger to help her through it. "You know who I mean."

"I am the Doctor," he insisted, but he didn't sound hurt or angry. He was happy. "I am just as much the Doctor as he was! In fact, I'm better. New and improved!" He shouted as he spun around. "Doctor 2.0."

"' Was'? Is he dead?" There was the demanding tone she'd been looking for. The trembling was even starting to fade. "Did you kill him?"

His enthusiasm faded instantly, and she swore his skin went a shade paler. "I didn't kill him."

"Is he dead?"

"…I didn't kill him."

"Is he dead?" And there it was, finally. The rage, there to protect her from the agonizing pain that hung over her head. A rage that commanded he answer.

But he didn't. He stared, he swallowed, his mouth opened, but no sound came out. That was enough for her. The fury exploded in her head, and her vision went red.

It only took two strides to reach him. She didn't even register her arm going back until her fist connected with the side of his face with all the force she had in her.

Her shout of pain matched his. Sharp, burning pain extended down her knuckles and through her wrist, even travelling up her arm to her shoulder. It throbbed as she turned and walked away, gasping. She really should learn how to throw a proper punch.

"That's okay," she heard him gasp. She glanced back to see him bracing against one of the side consoles, holding his face. The very sight of him disgusted her, and she turned away, though he continued to speak. "It's okay. Knew you'd be mad if you figured it out. Feel better?"

" Do I feel better?!" she screamed, and the harshness of it against her throat reminded her of the screams in the basement. Screams this pretender didn't know about.

"I'm guessing not."

Molly spun around to face him, clutching her hurt hand in the other, though the pressure made it ache all the more. "Are you fucking kidding me?!"

"Now, Molly-"

"Shut the absolute, ever-loving fuck up!"

His expression shifted to something angrier. This wasn't quite as frightening as the Doctor had been when she'd first arrived, but he was clearly losing patience. "That's enough, Molly."

"It's nowhere near enough!" She should have been afraid, but she clung to the anger like a life raft. A single crack, and the despair would come through like a broken dam, and she couldn't afford that now. "You're a murderer!"

"I'm not a murderer. I didn't kill him."

"You left him to die. That's the same thing," she said. A flash of memory in her head, sitting on the bed while the Doctor explained to her that she'd done exactly what her mother had wanted. "You arranged for him to die."

"That was them," he insisted. He took a step closer, and she took two steps back. "That wasn't me! I didn't choose that! I know you think I'm a monster now, but I'm still the Doctor. I wouldn't have done it if there was any other choice."

"There was," she said firmly. "You could have refused."

"I couldn't," he said, his voice softer now, the anger fading a little to a quiet despair. "It had to stop. It had to end. I couldn't let it continue. If I could have died instead, I would have, but they wouldn't let me die. They just kept bringing me back and starting the torture all over again."

More flashes. Cut off fingers and ears, skin peeled away, finger nails missing, needles stuck underneath eyelids. A waterfall of red.

She felt sick at the thought. He'd been there for so long, and at the mercy of the torture devices at the disposal of the Church of the Silence. It must have been so much more advanced, so much worse. How could she blame him for needing to make it end? Molly would have done anything to make it end, and she hadn't even been the one being tortured.

Anything, except maybe killing an innocent person. As sorry as she was for Eleven, she couldn't forget that. "What did they offer you?"

She saw his jaw work side to side for a moment, and then he gestured around them. "This. The TARDIS. A companion. Being the Doctor again. Though my memories feel as real to me as his did, I was only able to actively be the Doctor for such a short while." He paused, looking at the blue-green light in the center of the console. "I thought that, at least this way, the universe still has a Doctor. It's better than the alternative – the Silence killing both of us, and there being no Doctor at all. Because if they killed him somewhere else, without my help, I would have been next." He looked back to her. "It was the best option I had. I had to take it. I had no choice."

"There's always a choice," she muttered, but she had to admit to herself that if it weren't for the murdering the Doctor part, she might have seen his logic. Murdering. "Tell me straight. Is the Doctor dead?" His gaze shifted away from her, and she stepped back into his line of sight. "Look me in the eyes and tell me if the Doctor is dead."

He swallowed, and tangled his fingers together before closing his eyes and taking a breath. When he released it, he pressed his hands flat together and opened his eyes. "Yes. He'll be dead by now."

The room was colder than when she'd first arrived and it pricked at her skin. She reached for a life raft again, now hope instead of anger. "Did you see him die?"

"No, but that doesn't matter," he said, his voice soft. He took a step closer and she chose to stand her ground. As he spoke, there was an apologetic note. "You were trapped in that room with no doors. I knew – because of course I did – that the Doctor would go through the wall first, to be certain it was safe. As soon as he stepped through, I injected him with a strong sedative, and switched clothes. The Silence took him after that. They don't need him alive. They only need him dead."

She turned and stalked around the console, the way the Doctor used to, her hands behind her back, her mind racing for another possibility. "Okay. Okay. Or maybe, they wanted to see what information he has on the crack, on why it's back. Or where River is. He could be alive right now. He could…" But she wasn't sure what else there was. He didn't have the TARDIS. He didn't have the sonic. He didn't have her.

"If that's true, then he's worse than dead. Believe me, I know better than anyone what they're capable of. They didn't even do to River what they did to me, they couldn't, she would have run out of regenerations and died." He stepped around the console so she had to look at him again. "I know how hard it is. I know. But it's better to hope he's dead."

"You don't know!" She was back to anger now. "You don't! You don't know anything!" She wished she had something to throw; if she'd been on the other side of the console, she might've grabbed the Octospanner. "You don't know who I really am, or what I've been through, or what he means to me. He's all I have in the whole universe, all I have in this universe and in mine." She felt herself shaking from head to toe, and knew her legs would collapse only a second before it happened. She grabbed the console to hold herself up. Somehow the switches and buttons and controls she couldn't begin to describe felt lonely. "I'm really alone now. Really and completely alone."

"No, you're not," Eleven said, stepping closer. He could reach out and touch her now, and she almost wished he would so she'd have an opportunity to break a finger or two. "I'm here."

She hoped he saw the hatred in her glare. Or at least how shattered she felt, the sharp pieces of her heart and soul piercing her skin from the inside. The safety and protection she'd finally found ripped away like a scab, leaving her bleeding. The Doctor, dead. "You made me an accomplice in stealing the TARDIS and now you're kidnapping me. That's not exactly the same as not being alone."

"Molly…" His fingers went to his temples for a moment and he squeezed his eyes tight. Molly had learned this gesture by watching the Doctor in person. It was one of the little things she'd learned about him, that sometimes when frustrated he looked as though he had a migraine. It was a very human gesture, too. "I wish you'd try to understand. I didn't have a choice. The torture wouldn't end until I agreed. You don't know what it's like, to experience that, knowing that there is no end until you agree to kill the only person in the universe who knows you just as well as you know yourself." He reached a hand towards her, but rested it on the console. "I know who he is. I know letting them kill him was failing to save an innocent person, again. Failing to save a heroic person, again. If you've seen my life the way I've seen yours, you know that if there had been another way to make it stop, any other way, I would have. But the universe needs the Doctor, and I am the only Doctor left."

Molly turned away from him, walking to the railing she'd sat on while the Doctor started to teach her to say good morning in his own language. A memory Eleven would never share. "You could have done something else. You could have sent a warning along with the coordinates."

"They would have known. They would have left, taking me with them, and tried again. The torture would have continued. This was inevitable, from the moment they brought me back."

"There had to be something." The broken parts of her were starting to show in her voice. She felt that awful void closing in on her the way it had when she'd thought the Angels had taken him. "You could have warned him when we met."

"And they would have killed us both. There would have been no Doctor for the universe," he said. She heard him just behind her. "There would have been no Doctor for you."

"There is no Doctor for me." She lowered her head and rested it against the top of the railing as she fought back the sobs. She couldn't do that yet. She had to face Eleven. She had to find a new path in life. Completely alone.

" I could be," Eleven insisted. "I'm here. I'm the Doctor, too. You may not know me personally like you did him, but you will. We can still travel together. It'll be grand," he added with thin enthusiasm, like an afterthought he knew would never convince her.

She made a decision about her path. Taking a deep breath, she turned back to him. It took her some time to see his earnest yet concerned expression through the veil of tears in her eyes. Ever the crybaby. "I want to go home."

His face fell. "I…I can't get you home."

"You can," she repeated, her voice firmer. "The Star-Echo lab. They found a way to get me home. We decided I should stay a little longer. I have no reason to now."

She saw the anxiety in the way his hands moved together. "You could stay. You could give me a chance to prove I'm still the Doctor," he pleaded, but there was a resignation behind it. "We could be as close as you were with him. Closer. I could know you as a real person."

Molly shook her head. "No." She forced a step closer. "I know you feel you had no choice. And I know better than you think how hard it is to withstand torture. If I were a better person, maybe I'd be able to forgive you. But I can't. It's best for both of us if I go home, and you find someone else to travel with. Because you, especially this you, should never travel alone."

His eyes closed again, but she heard the sigh of disappointment. "Yes. Alright. That's understandable." He turned back to the controls. "We'll get you home." She watched as he stepped around the playing cards and began his work on the console.

Summoning every ounce of grace and quick, gliding, silent movement she had ever learned in all her years in ballet, Molly moved forward, bent down, and picked up the Octospanner. She raised it over her head as she took another half step closer. Every muscle in her body was tense, and she felt like the string of a bow pulled back and ready to be released.

Then hesitation filled her. Could she really do this? She knew it wouldn't kill him. And all she needed was a few moments. She wasn't a particularly violent person, but she'd already hit him once. This wasn't much more than that, not for him.

She remembered the Doctor, and that was enough to bring back her rage. She brought the Octospanner down on his head as hard as she could, then dropped it, turned, and ran.

She heard him shout in pain, and then slip on the playing cards and hit the ground. She thanked whatever lucky stars might exist that the Doctor – her Doctor, anyway – was always clumsy.

As she ran down the hall at full speed, past her room and the studio, she tried to review her plan in her head. Step one: Hit Eleven over the head and buy enough time to run away. Step two: Run away. Step three: …there hadn't really been a 'step three'. She just knew she had to get away from him. Had to buy some time to think. Had to hold on to the idea that maybe, somehow, despite the horde of Silence around him, despite the flytrap house and the lack of even a screwdriver, her Doctor was still alive.

Maybe she could circle around somehow. Get back to the controls. Convince the TARDIS that this wasn't really the Doctor, and they needed to go back for him. Let the TARDIS help her fly it again. But she had no idea how to get back except straight the way she came, and she knew Eleven would be coming up behind her at any moment.

Seeing a familiar doorway, she dodged left and into the library. Maybe she could hide in here long enough for him to go by. It felt a little too Game of Thrones for her, but it was something, at least. And if he'd seen her, she could hide among the shelves.

She turned left again, running down the rows of shelves, further in than she'd ever gone. Thankfully, the library was expansive, with rows upon rows of shelves, multiple sitting areas, tables, levels, even balconies. There were plenty of places to hide.

Which was perfect, because she heard Eleven's footsteps behind her. He must have followed after her faster than she'd expected, and spotted her ahead going into the room. She'd been quite far ahead, at least, so she didn't think he saw her making her way through the library. Still, she slowed her steps, being as silent as she could again so he couldn't follow the sound.

Turning left again – so she could circle her way out if she needed to – she found a little space between shelves she could squeeze into and crouch down. She didn't love the idea of making it harder for her to run if he found her, but it was better than standing and letting him see her clearly if he walked by. She cursed the red hair that made her easy to spot.

When she heard his footsteps approaching, she held her breath and tried to pull herself further into the shadows. She wasn't sure what he would do if he found her. He was the Doctor, so maybe nothing. But he'd also been tortured for ages, tricked her Doctor to his death, and possibly was a little insane, and she'd attacked him. She didn't want to find out what he would do.

The footsteps moved away, and she breathed again. She hoped she could stay there until she heard his footsteps leaving, but since he knew she'd hidden in there, he might not leave until he searched every inch, unless he heard her leaving. Was there a way to make it sound like she was leaving, but stay behind, without being spotted? She supposed she could throw a book, but it would land too close to her, and wouldn't sound enough like a footstep. She could throw a shoe far enough, but what if he found it? He'd know she was still in there, and she'd only have one shoe.

No, she seemed to be trapped. She'd have to wait until she heard him far enough away to make a break for it.

It didn't take long. She heard his footsteps going up stairs some ways across from her, and leaned forward and out of her hiding spot to try to get a peek at how far away the door out was. She could see the light coming from it, but she wanted a way there through the shadows of the shelves, rather than out in the open.

She heard his steps stop, and immediately pulled herself back into the spot. She glanced upwards, and could just see one of his arms and shoulders above and across from her, on a balcony. Smart. Of course he was smart. He went up to get a better look. She hoped the shelves obscured her enough.

"Molly?" she heard his voice echo. "I know you're scared. I know you're hurting. Please, come out. Let me help you." He paused, and she saw his arm shift some. He must have been leaning to look at the left side of the room. "You wanted to go home. I can do that. I can get you home." His arm shifted again, so now he must have been looking to the right, towards the door. "What's the point of this, Molly? Why are you running? You can't believe I'm going to hurt you. You know he wouldn't; you must know I wouldn't, either." She saw his grip adjust on the railing. He was leaning forward now. She retreated as far back as she could. "It's really me, Molly. I'm really the Doctor. Not the one you've travelled with so far, but still the same man. You have to believe me. Please."

The pleading in his voice told her what she hoped was valuable information: he needed her to believe he was the Doctor, because he needed to believe he was still the Doctor, himself. He doubted it, now that he'd done what the Doctor would never do. He needed someone who knew what he'd done to assure him that he was still the Doctor. Maybe she could use that.

She didn't have time to think about how. A second later, his head turned, and she saw one of his eyes. He leaned to the side and she saw his face, and they locked eyes for a moment.

Heart thudding in her throat, she launched herself to her feet and took the most direct path to the door, ignoring the shouts of her name behind her. The running and the fear and the grief all worked together to steal the air from her lungs, but she made it out the door before he'd made it down the stairs. She looked right, but knew that if he heard her running that way, he'd know she was headed back to the main control room. She had to lose him first.

She turned left and ran as fast as she could, taking every turn she could find. She couldn't hear him behind her anymore, and she thought that maybe he'd already turned back and would be waiting for her by the circular console. But maybe she'd just lost him in the turns. She was lost, for sure, and hoped the TARDIS would help her find her way back somehow. She just had to convince the TARDIS that this wasn't the real Doctor.

After watching his episodes, she hated thinking of him as 'not the real Doctor'. But it was true. The real Doctor wouldn't have tricked himself into dying.

Dying. Dying. Dying. She held tight to her disbelief. Even if it was just denial of reality, it kept her from collapsing in despair. She couldn't do that, not yet. He could still be alive.

Ahead she saw an orange, shifting light, and it took her a moment to see the door with the light shifting inside the window. She peeked inside and saw it: the Eye of Harmony. The engineered star that powered the TARDIS.

A few minutes inside would burn her up. So he would never expect her to run that way.

She took off her shoe and sock and stuffed her sock inside and launched it down the hall, so he would run that way after her. Or, she hoped he would. Then she pulled the door open, grateful it was unlocked, and stepped inside. She closed the door behind her as quietly as she could, hoping Eleven wouldn't hear, even if he was somehow still just behind her. Then she turned around.

The heat was almost unbearable. It hit her like a tidal wave, with extreme force that almost made it feel solid, but wrapping around her, sucking the oxygen from her lungs, almost drowning her. She'd lived in south Texas, she'd played outside on days when it was 112 degrees, but it was nothing compared to this.

The view was beautiful, though. The air itself was orange, like she imagined the sky in Gallifrey. The shining orb was difficult to look at with its brightness, and what seemed to be solar flares reached out for her.

Molly shook her head, reminding herself that she only had a minute or two before her atoms disintegrated. Not to mention that her foot was burning. She ran forward, careful not to grip the bars in case they burned her hands. She made it to the other door, turned the handle, pushed forward – and nearly dropped to the ground in fear.

The door wouldn't budge, no matter which way she pulled or pushed, no matter how much strength she used, no matter how hard she tried. It was sealed.

"Why the hell would you leave one door to this room unlocked, and the other locked?!" she screamed, banging on the door. "Come on!" But still, it wouldn't open. Maybe it was stuck? She would have to go back and risk Eleven finding her. She took as deep a breath as she could, and turned and ran back to the other door.

It wouldn't open. She was trapped. Trapped in a room that would burn her up in seconds.

Author's Note: TW: Descriptions of torture.