All he wanted to do was lie there on the bed

All he wanted to do was lie there on the bed. Rose was cuddled up to him again, sighing softly in her sleep. She was an absolute angel and he needed her, but he hated himself for it. The thoughts and feelings he was having towards her were dark and dangerous. He didn't want to love her for her; he wanted to love her to punish her, to punish himself. There was darkness all around and she was the light. He wanted it for his own, take it from her, use it, and use her to make himself feel better, more alive, more real. His jealousy and anger fuelled desire. Love and hate all mixed together and he wanted her, wanted her presence all around him. There was an empty space in his head were the Tardis had once been, and he needed it filled. Had to have it filled. Too silent. Too alone in his own head.

He tightened his arm around her body and she nuzzled deeper into him, all happy contentment, not realising how much of a danger he was. She mustn't know. Hide from her.

He could smell the skin of her shoulder, like spring, flowers and fresh rain. Intoxicating. He wanted to wrap that scent around him, hold her so tightly that she became a part of him. Own her. The urge was so strong; it would be so easy, just slip into her mind, implant himself there and steal some of her for himself. Take a part of her away and keep it, keep it locked up with him and give it all his guilt. She would take it all away, make him better, and make him complete.

As if sensing his temptation, the wolf raised its head from its paws to look at him. That look of knowledge and comprehension. That look of distrust and fury, the one that said ' I know what you're thinking and don't you dare'.

The wolf looked at him and he looked right back, challenging, daring the beast to try to stop him. He stared the wolf in the eyes unflinchingly as he lowered his lips to ghost over the scented skin of Rose's shoulder. He trailed slow barely there kisses over her skin, breathing in and over her, all the while looking at the wolf in triumph.

The guilt should be clearer, more insistent, but for the moment it was quiet, silenced be his defiance. But she stirred, and suddenly the guilt snapped back into sharp focus, and what was he doing? He couldn't. She'd realise. And that knowing look was all he got from the wolf. Hate, anger, guilt, too much.

He scrambled away from her as fast as he could. Hide away, get away. You'll hurt her. You're a monster. You love her and you want to hurt her. Make her hurt, make her cry.

He fled from the room, from the hut, from her.


She slowly surfaced from her sleep, so warm and comfortable. Everything would be all right. Her wolf was there with her, curled up in the space where the Doctor usually was. It was watching her intently with sad sympathetic eyes. But she didn't understand.

She felt the echo of the Doctor's arms around her on her skin and it felt wonderful. He must have gone to the farm already. But that was good. Getting out and doing something instead of staring off into eternity in the hut was a good thing. She tried to believe that he was all right and that he'd get better, but the way the wolf was looking at her, she wasn't so sure.

Her wolf knew more about what was happening, knew everything, but Rose just couldn't see what it seemed so sad about. She tried to see, tried to look into that space in her mind where the wolf resided, but she couldn't find anything but sadness and reassurance. All she could tell was that something was going wrong.

The thought and knowledge that everything would be all right left her, and she suddenly felt unease spread through her veins.

What was wrong?

Was she in danger?

And if so, from what?


Manual labour was definitely not helping as far as the Doctor was concerned. The farm, in general, as a whole, was really not helping. The sun was beating down on him, scorching the back of his neck, his ears, anywhere left uncovered by the plain work tunic he had been given to wear.

Vasile had been the one to instruct him on his duties. However, not understanding the language had been somewhat of a hindrance. The Doctor was very much aware of the fact that Vasile held an attraction for Rose. His Rose. While Vasile had been demonstrating techniques and practices with the aid of mime and charades, the Doctor had been trying his hardest not to glare, growl and inflict serious bodily damage on the man. He knew there would be no possibility of him beating Vasile in a fair physical fight, but then again, he hadn't been holding fair in such high regard recently. Rose liked this man. A lot. The Doctor was plagued by the thought that if it weren't for him, Rose would have fallen for this man, or at least fallen into his bed.

Stupid humans. Stupid needy humans with their attractions and seductions.

The Doctor mumbled to himself cursing the sun with its heat, cursing Vasile with his Rose tempting muscular upper arms, and cursing Rose for her humanity and needs. But she was his. Vasile could not have her. He just wouldn't allow it.

He'd been working for only an hour. Well, an hour three minutes and forty-five seconds, forty-six, forty-seven. His concept of time was still unrivalled, he knew exactly how much had elapsed but it seemed so distorted, like the seconds and moments were stretching to impossible lengths before him, taunting him with their linear-ness. A little over an hour of this and the excruciating thought that there were many more to go. This would be his life now. Minutes, hours and days bleeding into years of this hard backbreaking work that he was not built for. His muscles screamed in protest with each movement as he pushed the fork into the ground, churning the earth and crumbling it, preparing it for planting. This was definitely not right for him. Didn't they have special harnesses for the animals to do this sort of thing?

In that moment he resented Rose more than ever. It was her needy humanity that had forced him into this. Her idea, her will and she just bent him to it. He wished for nothing more than to go back to the hut, back to bed and stare into space. No. A lie. He wished for nothing more than to wake up as if from a dream, in his Tardis, with her warm soothing comfort swirling around in his mind. He'd destroy the Earth for that just about now, never mind the consequences, just to be ensconced in that security, feeling the vibrations through the walls as she hummed with amusement and affection, hearing the spin and promise of eternity as the time rotor worked his will.

At least back at the hut he could escape from lucidity and actually trick himself into believing he was home, deceive his mind into an old memory and merrily relax in a dreamscape Tardis.

But then came Rose and her pushy insistence, awakening from the comfort of home and he was suddenly trapped again. Stuck in this place with its time that only went one way, this place with its loneliness and its silence. Too quiet. Hurting all over with no singing in his head to make it all better again, humming a lullaby, gone now. Just him, one entity within his own mind, so alone. Her fault, little human whims, she doesn't sing to him. She did it on purpose, hurt and tearing and screaming and…

There she is. Sitting on a wooden fence talking to that idiotic farm boy pinup.

It's early afternoon and he honestly hadn't noticed. Where had the time gone? He'd never lost it before. Was she doing it? Doing it on purpose. Time had failed him, startled him, not acting in the way it should. It was wrong, he couldn't keep it, it was running away from him and she was laughing.

She was laughing.


Mucho sorriness about the delay in this. I'm bad. Shoot me!