Author's Note:

This crossover features the Tenth Doctor and Rose Tyler meeting a cast of original characters, including one very special Storyteller. Takes place sometime in Season 2 of Doctor Who, after the Age of Steel but before Doomsday. For Toby and the rest of Believe, it takes place 2-3 years after the events of the original trilogy.

Doctor Who and its universe are property of someone else, not me. Probably BBC or some other clever Brit. Toby and just about everyone else are my own creations, however. : )



It waited in the dark, in the cold and in the emptiness. It had been in the dark for so long now - oh, so very long. It had forgotten the light and the warmth of it, the sharp, loud, truth of it. Instead, there was simply darkness and the silence that fell over everything like a thick, immutable blanket. The only thing it had not forgotten was the desire, the hunger, the want that had grown so large in its time in the dark, filling every portion of its being until there was nothing left but it.

It had sensed the crack immediately, like a sudden cold breeze rustling through the stillness that was its existence. It reached out, stretching through the vacancy of its prison to touch the ragged edges of the tear.

It reached all the way Out. All the way.

There'd been cracks before. Little ones, just scratching the very surface of its prison. Some had even appeared that reached all the way through to give it glimpses of what lay beyond. They'd all been the same, however, blocked by too much interference, not enough room through for it to squeeze even the tiniest portion of itself Out. It'd been trapped - until now.

The crack was still small, not big enough for it to fit its entire self out, but it was enough. It was just enough for it to reach out, through the cold and dark and into the hot light of being. Enough to cast out its fingers, just the very tips of them, and feel the answer to all of its problems.

Brighter than a sun, glowing with enough heat and brilliance to banish even the deepest shadows in its prison, it found the key. There were so few left - when it had first been banished to the dark and the depths, there had been many such keys, many such connections whisking about the reaches of space around it. It had been unlucky that a crack had not been large enough to pull one through before, and now there were so very few it was all the luck it had remaining to brush even one.

But it was patient, and it was cunning, and it laid its fingertips out like a trap. It wasn't long before it felt the slightest brush of it - a bright spot. With this, it would escape. With this, it would be free of its prison. With this, it would finally sate the hunger that gnawed through its very being, clawing away everything before the sheer want of it.

It snatched.