Sarah Jane tightened her grip on the sonic lipstick. "Talk to me. I don't want to hurt you," She flipped up her scanner watch. No signs of alien life, except—she starred at the blinking letters. Time Lord? "Doctor? Doctor, is that you?"

A figure stepped out from behind a rotting, sheet-draped sofa. "Well, Sarah Jane."

"You regenerated again? And where's Rose?"

"Rose?" He scratched his balding head. "I think we're out of order. When was the last time you saw me?"

Sarah Jane tilted her head in appraisal of the short, stocky man in a neon green suit, purple tie and plaid shirt. Looks more like a greasy game show host then the Doctor, but appearance isn't everything. "Deffrey Vale."

"Definitely out of order, then. Would you mind giving me a lift?"

"Where's the TARDIS?" She scanned the abandoned warehouse for the familiar blue box.

"Broken down. I left it with UNIT while I went to scrounge up some parts."

"Well then, the car's this way." Sarah led him out of the building, down a few alleys, and back to her car. "Never thought I'd see the day when you went back to UNIT. You were so keen to get away from them."

"Times change. What were you doing there, anyway?"

"Mr. Smith indicated an alien presence in the area. Luke wanted to come, but I told him I could handle this one alone. Besides, he can't miss school all the time."

"A husband and son? Never thought you'd be one to settle for the domestic life, Sarah."

She took a right turn. "No, it's not that simple by half. Mr. Smith is a Xylock, and Luke was grown by the Bane as an archetypes for their Bubbleshock company. I adopted him after he escaped."

"Picking up hitchhikers, old girl?"

Sarah almost slammed on the brakes. "You know how much I hate Harry's nickname for me."

"And what were you planning to do with the alien once you found it? Scream till it begged for mercy?"

She bit her lip. "I have a sonic."

"I know bullets aren't always effective, but still…"

This time, Sarah Jane did slam on the brakes, yanking the car to the side of the road. She opened the door, jumped out, and strode away.

He ran after her. "Sarah, wait."

"Guns. Guns? You of all people should know why I dislike guns. People's self-control tends to decrease exponent ally when guns are involved."

"Really?" Before she could react, a silver barrel was pressed against the hollow of her throat. "Then you'd best be careful, Sarah Jane."

"You're not the Doctor. Who are you?" Her voice remained even.

"Are you certain I'm not him? He has a darkness, just like anyone else. The man who topples empires, vanquishes armies, destroys mighty civilizations—"

Despite the sunlight baking the concrete, she shivered. "Stop it."

"Put your fingers in your ears if you like," he mocked. "Don't you want the truth about that man? The man who kept taking you farther and farther away, leaving you to face Autons, Eight-Legs, Daleks, Wyrm. The man who insulted you, abandoned you, replaced you with a blond twit." The man leaned in till Sarah could smell the stale peppermint of his breath.

"I'm not scared of you," But her breath came slowly.

"And the parents you can't remember, and your Aunt Lavina? Would they be proud of you? An unemployed scribbler and gumshoe. Oh, I've heard about you and the children you put at risk."

"That's not true."

"Are you planning to start an intergalactic freak show? Maybe an orphanage for monsters. The celestial street-sweeper, old, washed-up clerk of the universe's dead-letter office." His rapid delivery slowed to a whisper. "I can't believe he came back for you."

Think. The scanner said Time Lord, but there's something—something he said.

"Any final words, Sarah Jane? Maybe a plea for mercy?"

I thought you must have died…

"At least you're not blubbering. That's the real reason he dropped you off. Called home to Gallifrey? Humans not allowed? He took your replacement there. It was only an excuse—"

I lived. Everyone else died.

"You aren't a Time Lord," Sarah calmly interrupted.

"What?"

"He said they all died. But since my scanner read you as one—maybe you're some sort of shape shifter or phantom—" Her mind raced, trying to find an explanation. "How do you know these things?"

"You're stalling now, old girl. I guess he taught you that as well—too cowardly to stand and fight like a warrior."

"Whatever you are, I'm not afraid of you. And if you know the Doctor so well, you know his anger when his friends are threatened. Do you really want to risk his wrath?"

For a moment, indecision flickered across his face. "Taunting me? Do you really think that's wise?"

Her right hand slid into her pocket. "I've faced worse enemies than some alien pseudo-therapist. Daleks, Cybermen, Sontarans and Slitheen. "

"Oh, I'm so scared of the Girl Guide."

She pulled out the sonic and aimed it at him.

"Really, if you think this will stop-" The gun slipped through his hand like a rock through half-set Jello.

"I blocked any projection signals to this area. Whatever you are, whoever you are, I'll see it now."

The balding form fizzled, like a TV channel on a stormy day, and another channel broke through—a man in a brown trenchcoat. Only his brown eyes remained opaque as the rest of him dissolved and reformed.

"Doctor?" She whispered.

His eyes stared into hers for a moment, as if apologizing for a future wrong. Then she was staring at a boarded-up brick wall, wondering if she had only dreamed it.