Note: This story contains spoilers for ALL of season one and part of season two. You've been warned.

Disclaimer: Not mine, all the BBC's.

The first thing he was conscious of was the intense heat. The second thing was the brightness. The third thing was a jumble of things really: he was lying on his stomach, there was an intense pain in his head, something on his forehead was stinging and when he inched his finger over to touch it, it felt warm, wet, and rough like blood caked with –

-sand. Sand!

The Doctor jerked his head up and scrambled to his feet. Looking around him, he felt desperation claw its way over the rest of his jumbled thoughts. Rose…there was no Rose, where was Rose?

Where was he?

The desert, that's right. The Sunisian Desert. And by the look of it, he was smack-dab in the middle of the Dune Sea with no point of reference. He went to pat his jacket for his sonic screwdriver, which could function as a compass, only to find he wasn't wearing his jacket. No jacket, no tie, no…hang on, no shoes?

He wiggled his toes in the sand. Nope, no shoes. Just a shirt and trousers. In the middle of the damn desert. No compass, no water, no TARDIS, no…

No Rose. Where the hell was Rose?

Alright, he had to get his bearings, had to think, had to remember. They'd arrived here yesterday, visiting the Great Intergalactic Bazaar in Sunis City, the trade capitol of this planet. This was the Second Great and Bountiful Human Empire, before the Reclamation of the Earth, so that would make this roughly 50,000 AD according to Earth reckoning.

They'd just discovered trillium here, the humans had. On this forsaken little desert rock, the greatest source of fuel and therefore power lay buried beneath ancient mountains and endless seas of sand just waiting to be claimed and transformed into the base of a vast and sprawling empire.

Traders and entrepreneurs from all over the galaxy came to Sunisa to barter wares and expand the cultural (and monetary) exchange. He'd brought Rose here to show her the beginnings of mankind's greatness, and also because it was fantastic shopping and she was a London girl, after all.

And the culture of this little planet was astounding. Sunis City was a sprawling mass of red, orange, peach, and yellow sandstone buildings that were each sculpted as a work of art. Huge, elaborately decorated awnings of cloth stretched from building to building, providing the streets below with shade from the vicious sun. Green plants sprouted anywhere the underground water system leaked, stubbornly living in defiance of the desert atmosphere.

The use of terraforming hadn't been possible; it ruined the viability of the trillium. So humanity had shrugged its shoulders and built around the difficulties, showing the universe their resilience, determination, and artistry. Rose had asked him why he was so fixated on humans and the Earth, and he had thought to show her this, show her just how great and wondrous her people could be at times.

At least, that had been the plan.

And yet now, he was standing, Rose-less, in the middle of the Sunisian Desert. This hadn't been part of the plan.

The wind began to pick up, blowing streams of russet sand past his naked feet. It was beginning to get dark as well, how long had he been lying out here? More importantly, who had hit him on the head, and what had they done with Rose?

The wind began to blow more forcefully, and he scowled. Sand in his eyes was not what he needed right now. He'd be fine without water for a while. It wouldn't be pleasant, but he'd hold out longer against dehydration than a human would.

It was getting dark quickly. He frowned again. It was a little too dark. Looking up at the sky, he noted the position of the sun, and then it hit him. It wasn't nightfall.

Very slowly, and dreading what he was going to see, the Doctor lowered his gaze to the horizon, where he could just make out the massive, rapidly encroaching dust clouds. "Oh, shit," he croaked. It was a sandstorm, a giant and vicious one by the look of it.

This had definitely not been part of the plan.

…………………………………………………….

Rose Tyler smiled in her sleep, a secret, sensuous smile that spread across her face. Stretching languidly in the soft bed sheets, she moaned softly as long-fingered hands caressed her body. Their touch was warm and sparkling and filled her with an intense longing. She thought of that plasma storm, imagined herself as that ball of energy, all purple tendrils of heat and passion surging across the universe…

…his universe, the universe he'd shown her.

The hands crept lower and Rose bit her lip as she felt a soft brush against the inside of her thigh.

"She'll do," a rough voice said.

Rose frowned. This wasn't part of the dream.

"Yes," said a second, raspy voice. "But is she a virgin?"

"I don't know," said the first voice in exasperation. "How the hell are you supposed to tell on humans? Is there some sort of button I should check?"

Rose's eyes snapped open and she found herself face to face with a tall, skinny, lime-green being who had one stick-like hand on her breast and the other –

"Oi!" she shouted, scrambling away from him. "Watch it!"

The alien gave a resigned sigh and threw his hands up in the air. "I give up. See? She's already out of her drug trance, I told you to up the dosage, but nooooo, you never listen to me, do you?"

"What the hell are you doing?" Rose shrieked. "Where's the Doctor? Where am I? What's going on?"

"Doctor?" Lime Green frowned. He was obviously the owner of the first voice she'd heard. "Are you hurt?" He turned around to his companion, the owner of the second voice, a short, fat, pinkish man with neon yellow hair. "I told you not to damage her," Lime Green growled.

The Fat Man sputtered. "I haven't! I didn't even touch her!"

Rose squeezed her eyes shut, hoping to either regain her wits or realize she was hallucinating. A simple vacation, the Doctor had said. Some nice shopping, a beautiful city, a nice meal…right.

"There's blood on your shirt," Lime Green was saying to Fat Man.

"That's not hers," Fat Man said. "I had to hit that man. The man she was with, the tall thin one."

Oh, God, no. No, no, no, no…

"I told you not to kill anyone anymore!" Lime hissed angrily. "It'll start to leave a trail, and the Duke won't do business with anyone who isn't discreet! A trail of dead bodies is hardly discreet!"

No.

A fist of ice seemed to grip Rose's heart and she found herself struggling for breath. It wasn't possible. He couldn't be…

"He's not dead!" protested the Fat Man. "At least, not yet."

"What does that mean?" Lime snorted, unknowingly voicing Rose's thoughts.

Fat Man spread his hands and shrugged. "I hit him over the head, but it only knocked him out. He's tougher than that little frame looks. I was gonna finish him off, but I could hear the city patrol coming, so I stashed him on the nearest post transport."

Lime nodded slowly. "I see. The post delivery robots are programmed with a no-tolerance policy towards civilians on postal service property, so they find his body –"

"-liberally splashed with Andarian Fire Whiskey –"

"-and they assume he's a homeless drunk, and chuck him out into the middle of the desert, according to company policy," Lime finished, beginning to smile. "Well done!"

Fat Man grinned. "It's sandstorm season, he won't last long out there."

Rose inched herself farther into the corner of the small, dank room they had her in. She forced herself to breath as her two captors congratulated themselves on a job well done. The Doctor was alive. In danger, yes, but then that was his specialty, after all.

Come to mention it, it was hers, too.

She opened her eyes again and looked at the two laughing aliens. Great. She was locked in a dank basement with Laurel and Hardy in Technicolor and…yep. She was chained to the wall.

One of these days, the Doctor was going to have to get her a sonic screwdriver of her own.

Okay, think. These men…aliens…things…whatever…had gone to the trouble of capturing her, keeping her unharmed, but hadn't done the same with the Doctor, implying that it was her they wanted. Okay. But why?

She was chained to a wall. Obviously a prisoner. But she didn't know anything, didn't have any other valuable information other than about the Doctor. But if it was the Doctor they wanted, they wouldn't have knocked him over the head and thrown him into the desert. So it wasn't information they wanted. What else had they been saying? Before, when she'd woken up?

As the truth occurred to her, Rose felt her jaw drop. Virginity. They'd been debating her virginity. They wanted her body, that's what the groping was. They'd been inspecting her. And something about doing business.

Oh, hell. Bloody damn hell. Fan-bloody-tastic.

No way was this going to happen. Sorry, no. Nope, nada, negative, absolutely not. She'd avoided becoming a Gelth zombie, survived being hunted by a Slitheen, ridden out a massive explosion in a tin box, been possessed by a talking trampoline, faced down and destroyed a Dalek fleet, and had the entirety of the Space-Time Vortex running through her head (even if she couldn't remember most of that). There was no way in hell Rose Tyler was going to be sold as a sex slave in auction after all she'd been through.

Right. First thing was first. She needed to get unchained.

And she needed to get into some other kind of clothing other than the thin, diaphanous piece of silk that was knotted around her hips. She might as well be naked for all intents and purposes.

But that could wait. Better naked and free than naked and, well, not-free.

First thing's first. Rose bent her head, and let out her best heart-piercingly pitiful moan of pain. Lime broke off his conversation with Fat Man and looked at her in irritation. "I thought you weren't hurt?"

Damn it. She should've known slave traders wouldn't be swayed that easily. But then, really, exactly how would she have known that? Not like she was often sold into slavery in an alien meat market.

Lime looked away again, back at Fat Man as the two discussed what sounded like a rendezvous time with this Duke, whoever he was. Right, she couldn't be damaged, was that it?

Oh, she was probably going to regret this. But the Doctor had a store of nanogenes on board the TARDIS, ever since their adventures in the London blitz, so as soon as she got home she'd be right as rain. A small part of her mind raised a mental eyebrow at calling the TARDIS home, but it really was the truth.

Right, then. Rose shifted her bound hands on the floor beyond Fat Man's line of sight. Holding the rest of her body very still, giving the impression she was still sort of out of it from whatever drugs they'd hit her with, she began slowly moving her wrists in small circles. She pushed the tender skin of the inside of her wrist against the roughest bits of metal, forcing herself not to wince as it grated the skin.

Finally after a minute or so, she broke the skin, and blood started to trickle down her arm. Perfect.

"We should go," said Fat Man.

Rose pretended to be in a stupor as they unhooked her chain from the wall and Lime slid his bony hands beneath her armpits, hauling her to her feet. Fat Man unlocked the little cell door and Rose conspicuously moved her arms so that a bit of blood dripped onto Lime's white boots.

Lime snarled a curse in some language the TARDIS refused to translate. Stupid, stupid, she thought. She should've known the Doctor was fine since the telepathic translator was still working.

The blood was having the desired effect. Lime growled at Fat Man, "You weren't supposed to be so rough with her when you bound her, idiot! The Duke wants his women unmarked! It's going to be hard enough sneaking a human girl past the police blockades but a bleeding one? Hell!"

Lime yanked off her bindings and turned her wrists over, glaring at the scrape marks. Rose mentally willed her muscles not to tense in anticipation. She had to time this just right. She had to remember all those things Jack had taught her. All those things she thought she'd really never need to use.

She could be seriously naïve sometimes, she thought bitterly.

Bending her head forward, Rose hid her eyes in the shadow of her hair as she looked around. Lime had pulled her into a small, adobe-looking hallway, with open doorways on either side. To her left, she could see a patch of daylight on the floor. That way must be the way out.

The air was cool and moist down here. There were pipes that ran along side the walls, big and small. The Doctor had mentioned something about an underground water system making the city above fit for human habitation. That's what the pipes must be for.

Lime was working quickly, wrapping gauze ripped from the hem of his long sleeve around her wounded wrists. Behind him, Fat Man had just turned his head to look back into the cell, while Lime's attention was focused on her limp hands.

It was now or never.

In a flash, Rose brought her hands together and swung them upwards viciously, catching the underside of Lime's chin and clacking his jaw together, momentarily stunning him. Just like Jack had taught her.

In the same motion, she flung her weight forward and shoved Lime into Fat Man, who had just turned around, so his balance was off enough for the added weight to knock him over. They hit the floor with a thud, and Rose scrambled off them, darted through the door, and slammed it shut. Thankfully, the lock was old-fashioned and simple enough for Rose to click shut.

Looking around anxiously, she reached to the opposite wall and tugged desperately at one of the thinner pipes, hoping nothing poisonous was inside. It was loose, but it would come free, so she threw her shoulder against it and finally pushed a segment free; enough to reinforce the lock on the cell door. Water spurted everywhere, but she ignored it.

Securing the cell door, she took off at a dead run, darting down the hallway and up the staircase into the sunlight. She didn't dare look behind her to see if anyone was in pursuit.

Gasping for breath, she looked around. She seemed to be in some sort of alleyway, in some residential area. That much was clear from the laundry drying in the air, on clotheslines stretched between buildings. Rose figured she was in one of the poorer sections of the city, then. Like New York or Chicago in the 1930s.

She jumped up just far enough to snatch a length of coarse brown cloth and wrapped it around her naked body. She could fix it more firmly in place or get something else to wear later, for now she just had to keep running far enough and not in a straight line.

It escaped her notice that she was leaving wet footprints in the coarse dust that covered the brick city streets.

………………………………………………………

"This," the Doctor said, struggling to sit upright, "is getting a bit old."

A firm hand pushed him back down onto his back. "Rest," a muffled voice said, "you were injured."

Well, at least they seemed friendly this time round.

"I'm fine," he replied, putting his own hand on top of the hand on his chest and pushing it away. He sat up, blinking in the darkness.

There was a hiss and a small pinpoint of light as his mysterious companion lit a match. The match was held to something and a moment later the room was flooded with a soft light from a sort of oil lamp. Looking around him, he appeared to be in some sort of underground cave, converted into living quarters. There was a soft palette of bedding on which he was laying (naked, he noted curiously), a table in the corner which held an assortment of objects, the lamp that was glowing, some rugs and items of clothing, and stacks of books.

Also, a very large gun. Plasma gun, by the look of it. Interesting.

He glanced up at the other person in the room; a black-robed figure who was facing away from him. "Who are you?" he asked. "And where am I? Wasn't I just…" he trailed off, frowning. "Hold on, there was a sandstorm."

"Yes," the figure said, pushing back the hood of the black robe and unwinding some sort of cloth that was wrapped around the bottom of her face (she sounded female, anyway).

"Yes, what?"

The cloth came fully unbound, revealing a sharp-featured face with short dark hair and round, warm brown eyes. Human, he judged, but he wasn't certain she was full-blooded. She looked vaguely familiar in that sort of looks-like-ten-people-you-know kind of way. Pretty enough, but sort of nondescript.

She crossed over to him and knelt down, examining a bandage she'd apparently put on his forehead wound. "Hrm," she murmured. "You heal quickly. You also have two hearts. Why are you on Sunisa?"

He held her gaze firmly. "I believe I asked you a question first. I'll answer yours if you answer mine," he said, giving her a cheeky wink, which apparently had no affect whatsoever on her.

"My name is Neera Vasuda. I'm a Time Agent. And now is not the time to play games with me, Time Lord. Tell me your name."

What?

"Why are you here? Why Sunisa?" she asked again, her tone still firm.

He met her gaze again, and anyone of lesser mettle would've stopped breathing, but she appeared unfazed. "What makes you think I'm a Time Lord? Time Lords don't exist."

"That's bullocks and we both know it. I've crossed paths with a Time Lord before. Only once, but the experience tends to stick with you until you either die or have your memory erased."

"Who?"

"Tell me who you are first."

His temper snapped and he grabbed her wrist firmly, not enough to hurt her but enough to let her know that he was done joking around. "Answer me," he hissed. If there was even the slightest chance that anyone else had survived…that the blast hadn't killed everyone on Gallifrey, if there was even the faintest possibility that someone had survived, like the Daleks had…

He'd finally rattled her a bit. "A…a man," she stammered. "I don't know his name, he didn't tell me. I don't think he had one. He," she swallowed, tried to pull her arm free, but he held on firmly, not breaking his gaze.

She looked away from him. "I never actually spoke to him. He was injured, very badly. I just sort of stumbled across him, and there was no one else around so I took care of his wounds. He had a fever, a high one, and he was hallucinating. He," she swallowed again, and rasped, "he said things in his sleep…things only a Time Lord could know of. Things I shouldn't know of. Things I never wanted to know."

"You just stumbled upon him." His eyes narrowed. "Where?"

"What does it matter?"

"Where?" he spat.

"Adonius. The moon colony there. Earth year 432 BC. The colony had long since been abandoned by its creators and the place was just ice. Ice, dust and ruins. Whatever ship he traveled in, it crash landed there, and the temporal wave threw my ship's drive out of whack. I had to do an emergency landing, and when I stepped out to do repairs, I just saw him wandering around aimlessly, and then he collapsed, and, well, he was injured. What was I supposed to do? Leave him?"

It couldn't be.

"That was me."

She stared at him. "Impossible. I remember what that man looked like. It wasn't you."

"Looks can be deceiving."

The proverbial light bulb clicked on in her head. "Regeneration," she breathed in an awed whisper. "That was always a legend, I don't think anyone at the Agency really believed it. Well, I don't think anyone really believed in Time Lords, either. My partner did, though."

"Your partner?"

"Man named Jack Harkness." She sighed. "He's gone AWOL, now. God only knows where or when he is. Could be on the other side of the universe for all I know."

Well. Wasn't this just turning into a hell of a day? The Doctor shook his head, trying to clear it, and was aware that he was still gripping Neera's wrist. He hastily dropped and stood, wrapping one of the blankets about his waist. "Jack Harkness?" he repeated.

Neera frowned. "Yes. Why? You know him?" She leaned forward eagerly. "Have you seen him? Is he alright? What is he doing?"

The Doctor held up his hands. "Whoa, hang on. Yes, I know him, I haven't seen him recently, I don't know if he's alright, and I have a suspicion of what he's doing. And I'd love to sit here and chat with you about him, I really would. I'd also love to be able to properly thank you for taking care of me on Adonius, but right now I have some more pressing concerns, which you might be able to help me with."

"Yes?"

"I'm traveling with someone right now. We got separated, somehow, back in Sunis City. I'm not sure exactly what happened, but I don't think it can be good. I'm pretty sure she's probably in danger, and I'd like to find her as quickly as possible."

He stood, wrapping one of the blankets around his waist. Neera stood as well and handed him a pile of clothing. "Here," she said. "Your own clothes were damaged by the sandstorm, and these are designed for desert travel. Also," she fished something out of her own robe's pockets.

"My sonic screwdriver!" he cried happily.

"Is that what that is?" Neera peered at it curiously. A Time Agent and tech. A match born in heaven.

"Hold it," a thought occurred to him. "I get how you found me the first time, and for right now I'm just going to ignore the enormous unexplained coincidence that probably isn't a coincidence that it's you that found me again. How did you find me this time? And why are you here?"

"You're right, it doesn't feel like a coincidence, does it? I never trusted them to begin with, but this is just…strange. Like I said, I'm a Time Agent," Neera paused to roll her eyes as the Doctor motioned for her to turn her back to him so he could dress. "I'm here for a mission."

"Mission?"

"I can't share the details of Agency missions with civilians."

He scoffed. "Civilian? I'm a bloody Time Lord!"

She peered back over her shoulder. "You're a Time Lord and you can't figure out why I'm here? That's a bit disappointing. At any rate, we recover all the poor souls that the postal robots, the police force, and the judicial committee dump out here. Not to mention the Disposal."

The…? Oh. Oh, shit. "Oh, shit," he said. "The Revolution."

Neera turned back around as he finished dressing. "Yes, the Revolution! It's this year. In," she glanced at her chronometer, "about three days' time."

He let out a string of long-unused Gallifreyan swear words. "I'd forgotten."

"You – what?" Neera gaped. "You mean it's not the Revolution you're here for?"

"Er, no," he admitted.

"Then why the hell are you on Sunisa? This year of all years?"

"A bit of shopping?" He pulled nervously at his earlobe; a habit this body seemed to have developed.

Neera was still gawping at him like a fish out of water. "You can't be a Time Lord," she said, finally. "I don't care about your anatomy, I don't care about the temporal warp signature I picked up on my sensors, I just don't' care. You can't be a Time Lord."

"Why not?" he protested.

"Because you're too bloody stupid!"

"Oi! I am not stupid! I just, sort of lost track of time, that's all," he shrugged.

"Lost track of time?"

"Sort of, yeah." He pulled on the extra pair of boots Neera had held out to him. "Now, we can argue later. Right now, I need to find Rose."

Neera shook her head and sighed. "That your companion's name?"

"Yeah, Rose. Rose Tyler. Human girl, full-blood, 21st century. About twenty years old, blond, curvy, got a mouth on her. Old Earth Cockney accent."

Neera frowned and folded her arms, thinking. "We didn't find anyone matching that description in the desert. I'll radio the other bunkers and see if anyone's picked her up in their latest batches of rescues, but I doubt it. Someone who went through all the trouble to dump you out here would've just dumped her with you if that's what they intended to do. She's probably still in the city."

"Why would someone want Rose?"

"I don't – hold on," Neera held up a hand. "What's she look like, again, this Rose? Is she pretty?"

"Yeah, she is. She'd come to about your shoulders, but she's not as skinny as you, she's a bit more curvy. Shoulder-length blonde hair."

"Real blonde?"

He frowned. "I think she dies it, but I don't know. What's that got to do with anything?"

"Does it look natural?" Neera insisted.

"Are you kidding me?" he said irritably. "She could be in danger and you're going to get caddy over hair color?"

"No, listen," she waved her hand dismissively. "If she's blonde, if it looks even slightly convincingly like a real blonde, then I think I might know what happened to her."

"What?" he asked, knowing he wasn't going to like the answer.

Neera moved quickly around the room, gathering items. "The Duke of the Gamma Sector, he recently moved his household here. You know how the Second Empire was close to its end. Just like Rome or Constantinople. Too large an area to govern, too corrupt to govern properly. Lots of little petty aristocrats running around with too much money to spend and too little moral foundation to guide their spending."

"Oh, no," he groaned, seeing where this was heading.

She winced in sympathy, and moved a bit quicker. "There've been reports lately. Women gone missing. Not just human, the few alien species that are crazy enough to come here nowadays have reported females missing as well. Of course, no one paid attention to those reports. Who in this sector cares if an alien woman goes missing?"

"The Duke's assembling himself a little harem," the Doctor growled.

"Yes," Neera nodded. "Full of interesting, beautiful, strange, and unique females that no one misses."

"Why Rose?"

"Blonde hair," Neera said. "That particular genetic trait was lost a while ago among the more purist human faction and is in high demand right now. Most of the chemicals available for hair dye nowadays produces bad results – very obviously not the natural thing."

"Why blonde, though?" he mused.

"With all the xenophobia going around now and the Purge of alien financial holdings and businesses and even families from the centers of the Empire, including Sunisa–"

"-otherwise known as the Disposal," he nodded.

A hard, angry look passed over Neera's face, and she went up a few notches in the Doctor's respect chart. "Right. That. At any rate, there's been, oh, shall we say, a revival of some older Earth customs?" There was an edge of steel underneath her voice.

He nodded again, understanding. "It's a little less Rome and a little more Third Reich."

"You got it."

"I need to get Rose and get her out of here," he said.

"Right," she said, shouldering a pack of equipment. "Sandstorm's still on, so we'll have to travel the tunnels for a bit until we get just outside the city."

He blinked. "You're volunteering to help me?"

"Yes, but it's not for free."

"Ah." He gave her an appraising look. "In return, you want to know about Jack."

Neera bit her bottom lip for a moment. "Look, I partnered Jack Harkness for six years. During those six years, I learned a lot about him, and he's one of the closest friends I've ever had. He's strong, dependable, full of fire, never gives up, always gets the job done, and never once has he ever failed me in anything."

"Were you…close?"

She shrugged. "At times, yeah, if you mean 'were we lovers'. We were more than that, though. No one has ever known me better than Jack Harkness, and until he up and disappeared on me a year and a half ago, I didn't think I knew anyone else like I knew Jack. We were just that close."

"I know the feeling," he smiled softly.

She held his gaze for a moment, considering something. "Hell," she said finally. "If this Rose is anything to you what Jack is to me, I'll help you anyway. Nothing asked in return. Is she?"

"She's more," he whispered, throat suddenly tight.

Neera grinned. "Well, we better get a move on, then."

He swallowed heavily, but managed to grin back at her. "Let's."

They moved out of the small room, Neera holding the lantern before her. She explained to him that this was part of a vast underground network of tunnels, supposedly filled in after the trillium mining went deeper into the desert. They'd been carved out again and turned into headquarters for the Resistance movement, and also functioned as shelter for the dispossessed of the Empire until they could be safely secreted off-world.

"One thing, though," Neera said.

"What's that?" he asked, ducking below a low outcropping of rock as they moved into a smaller service tunnel.

"You never did tell me your name."

"Oh," he grinned. "I'm the Doctor."

TBC