Author's Notes: Set before 'Amy's Choice'.

Amy Pond thought she could write a book about the trials and tribulations of travelling through space and time with the Doctor. But not today. Right now, her mind was fully occupied with more important things, such as what was happening to the Doctor and how they would get out of this situation in one piece. So she ignored the grass sodden with heavy dew and the way the ropes chafed her wrists, and concentrated instead on wriggling forward to get a better view. She made her every move as quiet and cautious as possible to avoid attracting notice; both she and Rory were perfectly aware that their well-being didn't feature highly on their captors' agenda.

The world that met her eyes was cloaked in soft grey, the forest caught between night and day. Mist wove through gaps between the trees and wrapped itself around the nude body of the Doctor as he stepped slowly forward, looking oddly self-assured about the role he was about to play.

He also looked as hot as hell. Amy knew quite well this was an inappropriate thought on several levels – not the least of which was because her fiancé was only a few feet away – but, well, she'd need to be a saint not to at least sneak a peek, and Amy would've been the first to admit she was no saint.

Then the leaves rustled, like a light breeze had blown up from nowhere to stir the uncanny silence.

And something moved out of the mist.

xxXxx

The day had started out so well.

Rory had wanted to see aliens: 'Really alien aliens. Not aliens that look exactly like humans except for wrinkly noses or strange ears.' The Doctor had been obliging and brought them to a small thickly forested planet, one of what he described as the Outer Rim Worlds,. 'Like Endor,' Rory had said, but there were no Ewoks there. What they had found were furry, belligerent Traidor, spindly red-skinned Skrel and tiny, scaly Phindeli – all mixed in with the transient human population in a small mining settlement. With the recent discovery of rich mineral deposits, this area of the planet was attracting a number of different races all itching to make their fortunes, just like the various Gold Rushes in Earth's history.

The Doctor, Amy and Rory found a bar doing brisk business where the atmosphere was lively without seeming in any way threatening and settled in for a convivial evening.

It was only when they left, threading their way back to the TARDIS along a dark, narrow lane, that everything went horribly wrong. A thin metallic net dropped, snaring them like animals and giving them no time to react. Amy had felt a tiny pinprick as something was driven into her neck and then – nothing.

She struggled back to consciousness to find herself still mostly in darkness, lying on a filthy floor, and panicked when she realised her hands and feet were bound with rope. Her head hurt, her mouth dry with the aftertaste of whatever had been used to drug her, but at least she wasn't gagged.

'Doctor?' she said muzzily. 'Rory?'

'It's all right, Amy.' Not Rory's voice, the Doctor's. Amy was torn between a surge of relief and irritation.

'Is 'all right' some Time Lord expression for everything's gone to hell in a hand basket? Because, hello? Being drugged and tied up doesn't quite fit my definition of all right. And where's Rory?'

'To your left. Oh, and close your eyes and count to ten. Your eyes will adjust quicker to the level of light. Rory's breathing, he's fine. Just taking a little longer to come round than you. And me. Definitely longer than me. Interesting cocktail of chemicals. Either they gave me a lighter dose, or I'm not as susceptible to its effects.' The Doctor sounded remarkably cheerful. It was extremely annoying .

'Doctor, shut up,' Amy said, even though she followed his advice about closing her eyes and found it actually worked. She could now see that they were in what looked like a dimly lit stone room. The Doctor had managed to work himself into a sitting position in spite of being bound hand and foot. Unable to give her a thumbs up, he opted instead for a bright and breezy smile. Amy treated him to one of her most expressive eye-rolls, and then she twisted her body until she could see Rory. He was also tied up . No surprises there, then. 'Rory!'

He groaned and opened his eyes. 'Amy! Are you - '

'She's all right, you're all right, I'm all right,' interrupted the Doctor. 'Now, all I need to do is create a bit of wiggle room and get these ropes loose. Did I ever mention my old mate Houdini? Very big on wiggle room, Houdini. Oh. And the odd dislocated shoulder, now I come to think of it, which I'd rather -'

The door to their prison slammed open as it was booted back on its hinges and they all blinked at the sudden influx of light.

'Awake, are you?' sneered a female voice.

'Yes! We are!' The Doctor was clearly annoyed at being interrupted before he'd completed his escape routine.

'Who are you?' Amy demanded. 'What do you want?'

'What makes you think we want anything from you?' The speaker stalked into Amy's line of vision, revealing herself as a Traidor. Short and aggressive, her rust-brown fur sticking up in greasy spikes, her wild yellow eyes glared as if to terrorize them into compliance.

'The whole drugging us and tying us up thing,' Amy told her, trying not to sound as intimidated as she felt.

'Yeah. Bit of a giveaway, that,' Rory concurred. 'If you didn't want anything from us, then drugging us and kidnapping us would be pretty pointless.'

'Might have just wanted to kill you. Slowly. Properly.' The Traidor grinned, her teeth sharp and white like those of a predator.

'Well, that would still be a reason,' Rory pointed out. 'Just not a very nice one. And if that wasn't the reason, then maybe you could tell - '

'And maybe you could just shut up!'

The Traidor lost patience with words, reacting with a violence none of them anticipated. Snarling, she kicked out hard at Rory.

Amy, seeing what was coming but powerless to intervene, shrieked, 'Don't!' as Rory cried out and doubled up in pain.

'There was no need for that.' The Doctor's voice was charged with sudden anger.

'Shut it!' a male voice snapped from the doorway. Amy looked over and saw a man glaring down at them from a face so pale he resembled something grown in the dark, like a mushroom. He also seemed vaguely familiar but she couldn't quite place him. She turned anxiously back to Rory and the Doctor. Rory's eyes met hers, trying to reassure and, she suspected, caution her to silence.

'No more games.' The Doctor's face was thoroughly stripped of any good humour. 'Tell us why we're here, and let's sort this out without anyone else getting hurt.'

'I said, shut it!' The man, clearly unimpressed, rounded on him and raised a fist, but the Traidor's voice stopped him mid blow.

'No! Not him! It might not come for damaged goods!'

With a muffled oath, the man turned away from the Doctor and reached out for Amy, jerking her head up hard by the hair.

Amy yelped. 'Let go! That hurts!'

'Stop that!' Rory ordered, struggling vainly to get to her.

'Whatever you want, this isn't the way to get it.' The Doctor's voice was very soft, but there was nothing of sweetness in it. 'Leave her alone and talk to me.'

Amy felt like her hair was being pulled out by the roots, but she bit her lip, refusing to give the man the satisfaction of crying out again. She saw the Doctor open his mouth to remonstrate once more, but the Traidor beat him to it.

'Are you stupid, or what?' she snarled at him. 'He doesn't want to talk to you, so shut up! Or we hurt your friends properly. Got that?'

Amy could see that the Doctor had. In a show of acquiescence, he lowered his gaze. But there was a glint in his eyes that she suspected neither the man nor the Traidor had spotted.

The man released Amy, stood up and swaggered across to the door. He beckoned at someone outside. 'Get them into the truck.'