𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧
𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐬
𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐱

from the eyes of
— 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐒 𝐉𝐀𝐃𝐄 —

The first thing I felt was pain. A sharp, searing ache in my ribs.

"Wake up!"

The voice wasn't familiar, but the words were laced with venom. Before I could piece anything together, another sharp jab connected with my side, and I gasped, curling up reflexively. My whole body ached, my head felt like it was splitting in two, and my mind... oh, my mind. It was in shambles. Splintered pieces of who I was—Cooper, PJ, The Polaris Jade—were colliding and fracturing and slipping out of my grasp like sand through my fingers.

It felt like I was fucking schizophrenic.

I scrambled to my feet, ignoring the pain and spinning around frantically to locate the source of the attack. Green—rolling green hills, a brick building, a children's playground. Peaceful, calming, serene, easy.

Dull.

Leadworth is what surrounded me.

"Who? What—" The words stumbled out of me as I turned, my vision blurring at the edges.

And then I saw her.

My breath caught.

She stood there, her arms folded casually like this was natural. Her dark hair shimmered, and her eyes—those piercing, predatory black eyes—were locked on me, dissecting me. She looked so much like her.

My mother.

But this wasn't her. Couldn't be her.

"Mom?" I whispered, my voice cracking.

I had not seen her since I was eight, but even having her ripped away at such a young age, I would never forget her. Never forget or devalue the time that I had with her. Never discredit everything that she had done for me—all that she did to fight for me, to protect me, and how she desperately tried to give me the best life.

How much she loved me.

However, my mother did not look like this. Not exactly, at least.

I looked like my mother in many ways; yes, but this woman wasn't my mom. She was far too pale to be my mom, and her eyes had been big and brown full of wonder—not this near black shade. And never so cold.

She couldn't have been older than me, this woman—my not mom—must've been around 26. The same age she was when I last saw her, when she died.

The woman who looked like mom but wasn't snorted, a smirk curling across her lips. "Oh, don't get your hopes up, Cooper. I'm not your mother." She only affirmed what I knew. "Though, if it makes you feel better to think I am, go ahead. We've got all the time in the world for you to figure it out."

The way she said my name—Cooper—made my stomach churn. It felt like an insult, like a poison. I wasn't Cooper anymore.

"I don't know who or what you are," I said, my voice shaking but growing stronger, "but don't call me that."

Her smirk widened, and she tilted her head as if she were amused. "Oh, that's right. You're not Cooper anymore. You're The Polaris Jade now. They killed Cooper, didn't they? Beat you, burned you, and transformed you into something else entirely. Completely wiped out of Peony's innocent daughter."

Peony... Peony Starre... the name of my mother.

I staggered back a step, her words landing like physical blows. "Shut up," I hissed.

"Or what?" She taunted, taking a step forward. "What are you going to do, PJ? Run away? Hide behind your new man? Pretend you're not still the scared little girl who cried for her parents. Oh, wait." She paused, her smirk twisting into something cruel. "That's right. You stopped crying for them, didn't you? Because even as a child, you knew they were long gone. Oh, and let's not even talk about your ole' papa... but which father? Your original or the Destroyer that raised you? Both of which sucked..."

"Shut. Up." My voice was sharper this time, my hands clenching into fists at my sides.

She laughed, a low, mocking sound that sent chills down my spine. "Hit a nerve, did I?"

"Who are you?" I demanded, my voice cracking under the weight of my confusion and fear. "What do you want from me?"

Her eyes sparkled with malice as she took another step closer. "Oh, darling, I'm not here because I want anything. I'm here because you made me." She gestured to herself with a dramatic flourish. "If the TimeLord has his DreamLord, then you have me. Let's see... you can call me... Lady Nightmare."

The TimeLord has the DreamLord? What does that mean?

Lady... Lady Nightmare? Is she fucking serious? That was the most anticlimactic name reveal I'd ever heard.

I blinked, incredulous. "Lady Nightmare?" I scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping me despite myself. "That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard. It sounds like the name of a My Little Pony..."

Her smirk faltered, just for a moment, before she recovered. "Say what you want, but you can't run from me. I'm not some figment or some external force. I'm you. I am every dark thought, every regret, every terrible thing you've done and tried to bury. I'm the version of you that you like to pretend doesn't exist."

"No." I shook my head, stumbling back another step. "You're lying. You're just... you're just part of the dream, part of this... whatever the hell this is. You're not me. Only I'm me!"

Her laughter echoed around the field, sharp and cruel. "Oh, sweetheart, denial won't save you. PJ, Polaris Jade, Unstoppable Jade, the Bombmaker, Cooper... it doesn't fucking matter. I'm the part of you that you try to lock away, the part you don't want—can't let—the Doctor or anyone else see. The real you."

"No," I whispered, my voice trembling as my hands flew to my head. It felt like my skull was about to split open. Cooper. PJ. Polaris Jade. All of them—all of me—were pulling in different directions, fighting for control.

She took another step closer, her voice softening but losing none of its venom. "You feel it, don't you? That crack in your mind, that fracture where everything you are is falling apart. You can't keep it together anymore, can you? It's all unraveling. The pressure of the Greater Good, it's too much... sometimes you think it might just be easier to crawl back to the Destroyer and your brother, don't you?"

"Shut up!" I screamed, clutching my head as I backed away.

But she didn't stop. She kept advancing, her words cutting deeper and deeper. "You're nothing, Cooper. You always have been. The unloved little girl. And now, even with your Doctor, you're still nothing. Just a scared little girl pretending to be strong. A scared little girl with mommy and daddy issues..."

"Stop!" I turned and ran, my legs moving on instinct, driven by the primal need to escape.

Her laughter followed me, haunting and relentless. "You can't run from me, PJ! She who lies cannot lie to herself!" She called after me. "You can't run from yourself! Wherever you go, I'll be right there, waiting. Because I am you!"

I ran faster, my breath coming in ragged gasps, but her voice was always there, echoing in my ears, in my mind, in my soul. I wasn't running away from her. I was running away from myself. And deep down, I knew I couldn't outrun that.

But one thought was prevalent among everything else. Something this Lady Nightmare person had said.

If the TimeLord has the DreamLord then I have her.

If the TimeLord has the DreamLord... if Lady Nightmare truly is everything dark in me embodied... then that means the DreamLord... that means that DreamLord is the darkest part of the TimeLord.

The DreamLord is the darkest part of Doctor.

▂ ✶ ▂ ✶ ▂ ✶ ▂ ✶ ▂

When I woke up, I was in the Doctor's grasp, his arms wrapped tightly around me as though I were something fragile he was terrified to lose. My eyes fluttered open to the sensation of his lips pressing kiss after kiss to the top of my head. He was murmuring something, words too soft and frantic to make out.

It took me a moment to realize where I was—back in the TARDIS. The Doctor's embrace tightened as if sensing my awareness, and then he sighed in relief, his breath warm against my temple.

Amy and Rory were stirring nearby, groaning softly as they woke up.

But before I could say anything, the Doctor abruptly released me, shoving himself to his feet with a suddenness that made me flinch. He stormed toward the console, his tweed coat flaring behind him as his hands flew over the controls.

The tension in the room was palpable, and as Amy and Rory exchanged cautious glances with me, I felt my stomach twist. It was never a good sign when the Doctor was frustrated—especially not like this.

The clanging of his hands on the console broke the silence. "You promised me," He snapped, not even turning to look at me. "You promised me you would find me in Leadworth. So, where the hell were you?"

Woah, another swear. No way either of these choices were reality.

I blinked, stunned by his anger. "What are you talking about?" I snapped back, my voice rising. "We were there for, what, minutes? And if you hadn't noticed, the Dream Lord—or whatever the hell that thing was—did something to my head!" I did not bother to mention that I knew the DreamLord was him. I couldn't even be sure that he'd figured it out yet, I wasn't about to call that out in front of Amy and Rory. "Obviously, it's going to take me a second to pull myself together enough to find you!"

His head shot up at that, his eyes blazing as he finally turned to face me. "A second? PJ, you ran off! You didn't even try—"

"I didn't try?" I interrupted, stepping closer to him, my hands trembling as I gestured wildly. "Do you even know what it feels like to have your entire identity shredded and scrambled? I can't fucking tell if anything—or anyone—is even real!"

"None of us can!" He shot right back.

The usual teasing edge to our arguments was absent, replaced by raw emotion. We weren't just angry at each other—we were angry at the entire situation, the weight of it crushing us both.

Amy stepped in then, her voice cutting through the tension like a blade. "Alright, alright, enough!" She said, holding up her hands in a gesture of peace. "Look, it's freezing in here. Have you got any warm clothes?"

The Doctor's eyes darted to her, his frustration bubbling over. "What does it matter if we're cold?" He snapped. "We have to figure out what's real and what's not!"

He stared at her, his gaze hard and unrelenting, but then something in him softened. His shoulders slumped, and he groaned, pressing the heels of his palms against his eyes.

"Sorry, sorry," He muttered, his voice quieter now, almost defeated. "Sorry, Amy. There should be some stuff over there." He pointed to a random corner in the console room.

Amy grabbed Rory's arm, tugging him toward the direction the Doctor had indicated. "Come on," she said, her tone gentle but firm.

The two of them disappeared, leaving me alone with the Doctor.

Silence stretched between us, thick and uncomfortable. He leaned against the console, his eyes fixed on the floor. Finally, he broke it, his voice softer this time. "You should go with them. Get into some warm clothing as well."

I shook my head, wrapping my arms around myself and biting my nails, my gaze fixed firmly on the ground.

"Dearest," The Doctor started, his tone careful and soothing as he stepped closer to me. His hands reached out, intending to take mine, but the moment his fingers brushed my wrist, I jerked away as though his touch burned.

"Don't touch me!" I cried, my voice sharp and trembling.

The Doctor froze, his hands hovering in the air before he slowly pulled them back. His expression flickered, just for a moment, with a mix of hurt and fear—for me, for the state of my mind.

And then, silence fell once more, heavier than before.

I started pacing, my steps uneven and frantic, the sound of my boots echoing off the walls. My mind was racing, my thoughts colliding and crashing like waves in a storm. "I can't," I muttered, my voice barely above a whisper. "I can't trust that you're here, that—that any of this is real... I won't... I am stronger than this..."

The Doctor took a cautious step toward me, holding his hands up as if calming a frightened animal. "Can I please touch you?" He asked, his voice a soft, steady whisper.

I stopped pacing and turned to face him, my breathing uneven. My eyes moved to his hands, still hovering in the air, then back to his face. His expression was gentle, filled with concern that I didn't deserve.

She who lies doesn't deserve the concern of a good man.

"Yes," I whispered back, nodding resolutely.

It was selfish of me to accept his comfort.

The Doctor moved toward me carefully, his steps slow and deliberate, as though afraid one wrong move would shatter me entirely. When he reached me, his arm slid around my shoulders, his touch warm and grounding. I exhaled shakily, leaning into him as he guided me toward the jump seat.

"Come on," He murmured, his voice low and soothing.

He eased me down onto the seat before crouching in front of me, his hands resting lightly on my knees. His eyes searched mine, scanning every detail of my face with the intensity of someone who needed answers and hated not having them.

"What did he do to you?" He asked softly, his voice filled with quiet urgency. "What happened, dearest?"

I opened my mouth to answer, but no words came out. My mind replayed the encounter with Lady Nightmare—her taunts, her presence, the things she'd said, the truths she'd forced me to face. My hands trembled in my lap, and I curled them into fists to stop the shaking.

I don't want him to know. He already saw enough of my outer ugliness, I didn't need him to see a piece of my true darkness come to light.

The Doctor didn't wait for me to respond. His gaze flicked to my hands, then to my face, and I could see the gears turning in his mind.

"Your pupils are dilating," he murmured, his eyes narrowing as he took in every detail. "Your hands are trembling, and you're ever so pale. You're either highly shaken or your mind truly is splintering piece by piece every minute." He paused, his expression grim. "I'm willing to bet both."

His words sent a shiver down my spine, and I turned my gaze away from him.

The Doctor leaned closer, his hands enveloping mine. His thumbs brushed over my knuckles as he spoke again, his voice soft but resolute. "Sit here, dearest, don't move, just try to relax. I promise I'll figure this out. I will fix this."

Before I could respond, he lifted my hands to his lips, pressing a kiss to each one. Then, with a sudden burst of energy, he sprang to his feet and darted under the console, rummaging through a series of drawers and compartments with the manic determination only he could muster.

I stayed in the jump seat, watching him through the glass floor. His movements were sharp and purposeful, his muttering barely audible over the pounding in my ears. He was trying—desperately, it seemed—to piece together the puzzle, to make sense of the chaos that had overtaken all of us.

He was the DreamLord? But how... how can the Doctor, the greatest man in the cosmos be the DreamLord?

How can I be Lady Nightmare and yet not be in control of her at all?

Everyone has darkness in them, some more than others. It's just a fact that the older that you are, the more darkness you have in you. It was more than possible for the DreamLord to be a personified version of the Doctor's darkness.

In fact, that would explain why the DreamLord appeared wearing clothing like the Doctor. It explained why the darkest version of me appeared and looked like some fucked up version of my mother.

God fuck.

But how? What the fuck was making this powerful of manifestations appear?

The Doctor and I were both old, both with plenty of time and plenty of darkness in our lives. We were also both telepathic—me not as much as typical at this moment, but the ability was still there. Just not used often.

Something must be feeding off of us... but what? What kind of creature not only feeds off such darkness but proceeds to manifest it and then torment the minds of others?

I had no doubt that Amy, Rory, and the Doctor were real in some aspect. All of us truly were trapped in a psychic episode, our minds linked together.

Throughout my thinking, Amy, Rory, and the Doctor had come back together and surrounded the panel. The Doctor handed Rory an odd device and the man spun it.

A makeshift generator—something to power on the screens manually.

It worked as a moment later, the scanner flickered to life and popped up the outside space that the TARDIS was floating through.

It was beautiful, as all space was, a thousand burning stars flickering across the dark expanse of stardust.

"Where are we?" Amy asked.

The Doctor breathed. "We're in trouble..."

The scanner turned and revealed a bright blue sun. But it was not the kind of blue that meant it was burning incredibly hot; rather a light blue that revealed it to be burning cold.

"What is that?" Rory questioned, and I found myself answering from where I was sitting on the chair.

"A cold star!" I shouted, standing up in an instant and running toward the TARDIS doors.

Because no way we actually managed to float toward one of the rarest forms of stars across the entire universe. There were not many forms of cold stars—such a thing did not occur often. Maybe once or twice across the entire universe every few million years.

Of fucking course it would be our luck to be in such a place at such a time.

It'd be beautiful to watch if the TARDIS was fully powered on and we were protected by her. But considering the circumstances, this was terrible.

I'd rather die of a heat stroke than freeze to death.

My mind flickered—the backpack. The force of the POLARIS JADE... and yet something blocked me from thinking about it any further. As though my own mind was trying to protect such important thoughts.

"PJ—wait!" The Doctor came after me, but I was already at the TARDIS doors and opening them.

Thankfully, even with the lack of power—the air forcefields were still in place. I was not sucked into the vacuum of space and suffocated immediately. Rather, I was greeted with the beautiful and absolutely freezing sight of a sun burning ice.

The light it provided encapsulated the TARDIS causing us all to squint.

The Doctor was behind me in seconds, winding an arm around my waist as he too looked at the sight. His other hand gripped the edge of the doorway, keeping us both steady and inside without risk of falling out into space.

Even with the air shield on, it was no doubt much shorter than usual meaning that falling out of these doors would not be safe as it typically is.

In an instant, I looked up just as he looked down, our noses brushing the other—both our eyes wide. Our thoughts were apparent: we're fucked.

With that, the Doctor swung me back inside and slammed the doors closed.

"We're drifting toward a cold sun... that's our deadly danger in this version of reality..." He breathed to Amy and Rory, his back against the doors as though something was trying to come through and his green eyes huge.

"So this must be the dream since it isn't possible. Stars burn hot, they don't freeze..." Amy told us, she and Rory shivering along with me and the Doctor.

Opening the doors took out the majority of the warmth that had been stored. Oops.

"This one is burning, it's just burning fucking cold..." I informed them between chattering teeth, leaping onto the console platform and falling into the chair once again.

The Doctor was right behind me, moving till he was standing before Amy and Rory.

"Is that possible?" Rory asked the Doctor.

The Doctor puffed out his chest. "I can't know everything!" He threw his hands up dramatically. "Why does everybody expect me to!" He cried out and fell in the seat next to me, our thighs touching. "Always!" He added, waggling a finger in all our faces.

I attempted to bite it causing him to pull it back and scrunch his nose while he looked at me.

"Alright..." Rory nodded, trying to make sense of this. "This is something you haven't seen before, so does that mean that this is the dream?" He asked.

The Doctor gritted his teeth and looked at all of us obviously trying to keep his cool. It wasn't that we were necessarily the ones making him angry, but the entire situation was very apparently stressing him out.

Then again, he was used to such things. It was just that he typically had more answers than he does now—the cloud of fog that wrapped around my brain must be wrapped around his to a degree as well.

It made it hard to think.

"I. Don't. Know..." The Doctor said through clenched teeth before sarcastically motioning to the door. "But there it is..." He said slowly with way more sass than normal—it seemed his past generations were beginning to push to the surface at this moment.

My mind flickered and I humorlessly wondered if the Doctor was like the Avatar or something. Maybe when the situation called for it then the TimeLord went into the "Avatar" State. Called upon all his past generations to form the ultimate being of power.

What would such a thing be called for him then?

The TimeLord State?

Inwardly, I snickered at the thought.

Let be real though—if all his past generations came together then the maniac being would probably just argue with himself. No ultimate power in that.

Unfortunately, now was not the time to voice my joking comparison about the Doctor secretly being the space version of Aang.

"It's rare but possible," I finally said, trying to be a least semi-helpful since all I had really provided thus far was added stress and drama to the group. "It doesn't happen often—once or twice across the universe every few million years, it's an incredible coincidence that we happen to be near one when we lost power considering its rarity..."

The Doctor snapped his fingers at me and nodded his head. "Good, it's rare but not impossible. So this could still be reality. Based on the trajectory and the fact that we are no doubt caught in its orbit, I'd say we have about... oh... 14 minutes until we crash into it..." He said, doing his TimeLord magic or whatever it is he can do to time, and gave us an estimate. "But that's not the problem!" He bopped me on the nose affectionately before standing up.

I snapped my teeth at him causing him to smile flirtatiously my way. "Save the biting for later, love..."

Was it just me or is this guy getting bolder each day that I'm with him? Maybe it's just the dream getting to him... or maybe it's him knowing that I was with River Song for an entire month doing who-knows-what?

I quirked a brow at him. "You want me to bite you?"

"Love a good bite, dear, I certainly like biting yo—" The Doctor started suggestively only for Rory to cut him frantically.

"What's the problem?!" He cried out and looked at both of us as though we were crazy. "Now is not the time to be making moves man!" Rory pointed at the Doctor accusingly causing him to gape at being so shamelessly called out. "Save it for after we live through this!"

I barked a laugh, finding that I fucking LOVE Rory Williams.

"Right!" The Doctor clapped, ears turning pink. "The problem is that we'll have frozen to death by then...!" He said far too cheerily given the situation.

"Ugh!" Rory yelled, tilting his head back and waving a fist in the air.

Amy patted his shoulder comfortingly, pursing her lips. "Doctor, what're we going to do?"

The Doctor shrugged, pulling a stethoscope from a random drawer of the TARDIS and putting it on. He proceeded to then start listening to various areas around the control panel.

Quite frankly, he looked insane.

"We stay calm, don't get sucked into it. This might just be the battle we need to lose..." The Doctor told us unhelpfully.

"The fuck are you doing?!" I cried out and pointed to him. Because why the hell is he using a stethoscope meant for humans in the 21st century on his highly advanced time machine? "There's no way that's helping—this is why you don't throw the manual into a fucking supernova!"

"Oi, shut it, peanut gallery!" The Doctor snapped right back while I only covered my face with my hands and shook my head.

I mean, I guess this is one way to die. I'd sorta been wanting to die for over three hundred years at this point anyway, but it's a bit different when you're actually faced with your own death.

"Oh!" Rory suddenly cried out in an appalled manner. "This is so you, isn't it?"

The Doctor spun to face Rory in a surprised manner. I lifted my head, and my own eyebrows shot up in surprise at Rory's tone.

"What?" The Doctor asked entirely confused.

"What?" Rory mocked causing my mouth to fall open at the pure saltiness. "A weird new star, fourteen minutes left to live? Having both my fiancé and another hot woman—who may or may not be your girlfriend, still don't know—hanging onto your every word?" Rory scoffed.

I popped my head between the two, holding up a single digit. "Uhm, just want to clarify that I'm not hanging onto his every word nor am I his girlfriend, but continue..." I informed them before backing away.

The Doctor frowned at me but Rory did not so much as blink as he finished his previous statement. "All of this and only one man to save the day! I just wanted a nice village and family!"

The Doctor clenched his jaw, obviously upset by the words. However, before he could fire back—the DreamLord appeared.

And thank god because I would not be surprised if a fight broke out between the two. Rory was understandably suffering considering Amy was hot and the Doctor was—well, the Doctor.

Oh yeah, also she kind of ran off with the Doctor the night before she and Rory's wedding, but y'know... details.

"Oh dear, Doctor, dissent in the ranks." The DreamLord tittered as we all jumped to face him. The entity then started spitting bars. "There was an old doctor from Gallifrey who ended up throwing his life away. He let down his friends and..." His short poem was cut off by the sound of those damn birds. I fucking hate birds. "...Oh, no. We've run out of time. Don't spend too long there or you'll freeze to death here..." The DreamLord grinned at us.

This time unconsciousness overcame us all in an instant. There was no time to think, no time to fall to the ground comfortably—no time for me to grab the Doctor. Even if it was only a dream, it still felt nice to know that we were in each other's grip.

This was not the case now, I only made eye contact with the DreamLord before my eyes rolled and I fell back in the chair.

▂ ✶ ▂ ✶ ▂ ✶ ▂ ✶ ▂

The cold of the alleyway seeped into my skin, rough pavement digging into my back as I stirred awake. My entire body ached, and my head throbbed like I'd gone a few rounds in the Space Jam. For a moment, I stayed still, blinking against the dim light filtering through the gaps between the buildings. The air reeked of damp concrete and something faintly metallic.

Then I heard the voice, light and mocking, slicing through the quiet like a blade.

"Oh good, Cooper, you're awake..."

I groaned, my limbs stiff as I forced myself upright. Leaning against the opposite wall was Lady Nightmare, her silhouette sharp and unforgiving. She still looked eerily like my mother—every detail sharp enough to cut, from the haughty arch of her brows to the cruel twist of her lips.

But I reminded myself that it wasn't her. Couldn't be.

There was nothing left of my mother, of anyone from my long-dead universe.

Lady Nightmare took one last drag of her cigarette before flicking it to the ground and stomping it out with her heel, the embers extinguished with a hiss. Her eyes gleamed with something cold and calculating as she studied me like a predator sizing up prey.

"Seriously, what the hell are you?" I croaked, my throat dry and voice rasping as I pushed myself to my feet.

Lady Nightmare tilted her head, feigning innocence. "You know exactly what I am, Cooper." Her tone dripped with condescension, her smile taunting.

"Don't call me that," I snapped, my voice gaining strength. "I'm not her anymore. Cooper is dead."

"Not her?" She laughed, a sound that sent chills crawling up my spine. "Oh, darling, you can bury your past, but you'll always be her. Cooper Haven Starre. Polaris Jade. Whatever name you fancy. You're still the same bitch."

I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms as I stepped closer, trying to steady my breathing and regain some semblance of control. "Fine. You're the personification of my darkest parts. Same with the DreamLord to the Doctor. I get that. But how? Why? And what's doing this? What are you?"

Lady Nightmare smirked, pushing off the wall with a grace I hated her for. "Oh, so many questions, Cooper. Always so curious, but always asking the wrong ones." She took a slow step toward me. "But tell me, does it really matter? Both realities, both lives—it's all just a game. A cruel, lucid nightmare. But you like games, don't you?"

Both realities a game? Does that mean... does that mean neither is real? I can't be sure, and I surely can't trust the darkest part of myself.

Her words twisted in my chest, and I fought to keep my voice steady. "You're lying. That's what you do—you lie and manipulate. I'm not playing your game."

Lady Nightmare chuckled, the sound low and sinister. "Oh, but you are. You've never been able to resist. You're playing, and you're losing—for the first time ever. How does it feel to finally lose?" She paused, her eyes narrowing. "Oh, and how is Garren, by the way?"

The name hit me like a punch to the gut, and I stiffened, my breath catching in my throat. My silence must have been answer enough because she cackled, the sound echoing through the alleyway.

"You're telling me you haven't even been following up on lovely ole Garren?" She asked, her tone mockingly appalled. "You call him your best friend, you both are here for the same purpose, meant to have each other's backs through thick and thin, but you haven't seen him in fifteen years? No records, no contact? Some friend you are."

"It's safer this way," I bit out through gritted teeth, forcing myself to stay calm. "For both of us. Garren can handle himself. He doesn't need to worry about me."

"And you don't need to worry about him?" She pressed, her eyes gleaming with malice. "Oh, Cooper, darling. You keep telling yourself that, I can feel the anxiety you have about it. About having not heard from him for this long..."

My hands trembled at my sides, the weight of her words pressing down on me. I was spiraling, and I knew it, but I couldn't let her see. Couldn't let her win.

"Get out of my head," I growled, my voice low and dangerous. "Whatever you are, whoever you are—you don't belong here."

Lady Nightmare grinned, sharp and cruel. "Oh, darling, I'm not in your head." She leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a whisper that sent shivers down my spine. "I am your head."

Lady Nightmare's grin widened as the air in the alleyway seemed to grow colder, heavier. Then, as if summoned by her malice alone, the DreamLord materialized, his presence sucking even more warmth from the space. He looked as smug and infuriating as ever, his eyes gleaming with amusement as they flicked between us.

"Ah, what's this now?" His voice was silky, almost pleasant, but the venom beneath it was impossible to miss. He strolled toward us, hands tucked behind his back like he hadn't a care in the world. "Thought I'd come to check on the final piece of our little quartet." He smirked at me, but his attention quickly shifted to Lady Nightmare. "But I see the Lady has you all covered."

Lady Nightmare straightened, her haughty demeanor sharpening as her eyes narrowed in on him. She was taller than the short DreamLord by a good few inches, the woman taller than me by two or three inches as well.

"DreamLord," She purred, her tone dripping with mockery. "Didn't anyone teach you to knock before entering a lady's domain?"

He chuckled darkly, stepping closer to her. "And miss the pleasure of your company? Perish the thought."

I shifted uncomfortably, every instinct screaming at me to run, to do something, but I was rooted to the spot, caught between their mutual disdain and... something else. Something worse.

"You've always been such a charmer," Lady Nightmare mused, her voice low and dangerous as she began circling him like a predator. "Too bad it's wasted on me."

"Oh, I wouldn't say wasted," the DreamLord replied smoothly, his eyes following her every movement. "After all, we're not so different, are we, dearest? Two parts of darkness. You should be flattered."

"Flattered?" Lady Nightmare laughed, a sound as sharp as shattered glass. "Don't mistake me for one of your pathetic little playthings, DreamLord. I'm not here to stroke your ego."

"Oh, I wouldn't dream of it," He said with a sly grin, stepping into her space. "But I must admit, it's rare to find someone who can keep up with me. Someone who understands the... finer nuances of manipulation and malice."

"Nuances?" She repeated, arching a brow. "Is that what you call your cheap parlor tricks?"

They were close now, too close, their voices dropping to near whispers as their tension filled the air. I felt my stomach churn, and I took an involuntary step back.

"I'd say the same about your theatrics," the DreamLord countered, his voice dangerously soft. "But I have to admit... I like your style."

"Careful, DreamLord," Lady Nightmare murmured, her lips curving into a predatory smile. "You're starting to sound like you actually care."

"And you're starting to sound like you want me to."

I gagged audibly, unable to help myself, but neither of them so much as glanced my way. Their focus was entirely on each other, the space between them charged with something dark and unsettling.

Then, without warning, Lady Nightmare surged forward, grabbing the DreamLord by the collar of his jacket and pulling him into a kiss. It wasn't soft or tender; it was violent and intense, their clash of personalities manifesting in the way they devoured each other.

And there was a lot of tongue.

Holy fuck. What the fuck? What the fuck? What the fuck?!

Is that how me and the Doctor fucking acted? What the hell is this bullshit? Why the hell is our personified darkness tongue-fucking?

Lady Nightmare may have been me, but she still looks like my damn mother. And I definitely do not want to see my long-dead mother getting it on in any manner of the word.

"Oh, for the love of—" I muttered, spinning on my heel. My heart raced, and bile rose in my throat. This was wrong on so many levels, and I wasn't sticking around to see how it played out.

I was halfway down the alley when I heard the DreamLord call out after me, his voice filled with sick amusement. "Oh, and watch for the old people!"

I glanced back just in time to see them tangled together again, oblivious to the world around them. They were up on the wall—the wall turning black and seemingly disintegrating with their joined and tainted touch.

"Disgusting," I muttered under my breath as I bolted out of the alley, desperate to put as much distance as possible between myself and... whatever the hell that was. "Absolutely foul..." I huffed as I turned a corner, still more than disturbed by the DreamLord and nightmare girl or whatever having some sort of tainted love affair.

A twisted and tainted love.

Tainted Love... haha, what a song.

I turned another corner, slowing to a jog as I caught my breath. The town was eerily silent, the kind of silence that pricked at your instincts and made your skin crawl.

Then I saw them.

A group of old people, easily a dozen or more, shuffled down the street in a loose pack.

The fuck?

Then the DreamLord's words hit me. Watch out for the old people... are you fucking kidding me?

Don't tell me this has to do with whatever the deadly danger of this reality is.

Their movements were unnatural—jerky, almost mechanical—and their blank, lifeless expressions sent a chill racing down my spine. They moved as one, their heads tilting in unison as they noticed a man standing just outside one of the buildings, fiddling with his keys.

"Evening," A man called out, clearly trying to be friendly as he passed by them.

One of the old women turned her head to him, her jaw working like she was chewing on something invisible. She took a step forward, raising one gnarled hand.

"Are you all right, miss?" The man asked, concern flashing across his face.

The old woman didn't answer. Instead, she opened her mouth wide—too wide—and expelled a burst of greenish gas. It hit the man square in the face, and he froze, his eyes widening in terror as his skin began to crack and turn ashen. In seconds, he crumbled to dust, a soft pile of grey powder where he'd once stood.

"Holy shit..." I whispered, backing up instinctively as the old woman turned her empty gaze toward me.

They started to move faster now, the shuffling giving way to something more deliberate. My heart hammered in my chest as I spun around, looking for an escape. My eyes landed on a small, cluttered shop with a faded sign that read Curio & Relics.

Without a second thought, I dashed inside, slamming the door behind me.

The shop was dimly lit, crammed with shelves overflowing with dusty trinkets, ancient artifacts, and oddities from every corner of the world. My eyes scanned the room frantically, searching for anything I could use as a weapon.

Then I saw it—a sword, gleaming faintly under a flickering light. It was displayed on a rack, its ornate hilt encrusted with tiny gems that caught the dim light.

I didn't think. I grabbed it, the weight of it settling into my hands. I gave it an experimental swing, and it sliced through the air with a satisfying whoosh. Perfect, that'll work great.

"Time to kill somebody's grandmother..." I muttered, a grim smile tugging at my lips.

The shopkeeper—a dude who had apparently been asleep behind the counter—snorted awake and gawked at me as I spun the sword in a wide arc. "Uh, miss, that's an actual antique... you really shouldn't be swinging it around..."

"Yeah, well, it's about to be vintage badass," I shot back, having no clue what the fuck I meant by those words but trying to sound cool as I headed for the door.

"What does that mean? Wait, you need to pay for that!" He called, but I was already gone.

The old people were closer now, their blank eyes glowing faintly in the darkness. Their slow, deliberate steps felt like the promise of inevitability.

But not today. Not today, bitch!

I pushed the door open and let out a battle cry that I hoped masked my terror. Sword in hand, I charged toward the crowd of possessed elderly, ready to take my chances against the nightmare they'd become.