The Doctor cursed in Gallifreyan and sat down rather defeated on the bed that graced his posh prison cell. He had been here exactly…well he couldn't quite connect his time sense…but anyway, it must have been about a quarter of an hour. In that time he had explored every inch of the strangely opulent suite he woke up in only to find it utterly inescapable. And for him that was saying something. Then again, whoever had him imprisoned had also taken his sonic screwdriver and he was far more fuzzy feeling than a Time Lord had any right to be outside of the time right after a regeneration. But no, he was still this him, and thank goodness for that. He'd really won the jackpot with this particular body and he was in no hurry to lose it.

The Doctor rubbed his temples and thought back to how he got in this predicament since that was a disconcerting blank space in his memories. Images flashed through is head, sharp and distinct, and in a wibbly wobbly order that only his impressive time lord brain could understand. And yet none of it explained how or why he was here. Clearly, he was missing something. There was a key period of time he couldn't remember, and it wasn't just because he had been unconscious. The memories were there, somewhere, but something was blocking them from coming to the surface of his mind. He sat down heavily on the king sized bed that graced the center of the room and worked his way through his mess of memories.

His last concrete memories started with the comforting chatter of his ginger companion. They had been traveling together for several months now and her fiery presence filled up the winding halls of the TARDIS in just the way he needed. It was a funny thing, how these humans had a way of worming their way into his life and his hearts. Of course, the closest he would get to admitting anything like that to Donna was to allow a half grin when she continued to refer to the two of them as "Partners in Crime." Leave it to a human to sum things up just about perfectly.

Last he remembered, the two of them had been at a bazaar on one of the rare shopping trips he indulged his companion. Rassilon knew she already had enough clothes. And purses. And hats. Especially the hats, not that she ever seemed to wear them. But he had to make the morning's disappointment up to her. They had been going to 1969 to see the moon landing from a location safely away from his previous visits to the event. Donna had been chattering even more than normal with anticipation of witnessing the historical spectacle from inside Huston's headquarters. (Thanks, of course, so some quite geniusly crafted perception filters he had whipped up over the last few days while Donna had slept her tediously long sleep cycle.)

However, when he had landed the Tardis in a spare closet of Huston's NASA headquarters, he had instantly noticed that something wasn't right. No, worse than that, something was very, extremely, and possibly even frighteningly wrong. The timelines swirled angrily in a raging storm that he hadn't seen since the Reapers had descended on the church Rose and he had taken refuge in. Rose. He pushed the thought of the pink and yellow girl aside, a feat easier than usual thanks to the distraction of the raging swirls of time.

Before Donna could take more than a few steps towards the door, he was at the controls of the Tardis, even more frantic than usual in his efforts to get them back into the safety of the vortex.

"Oi!" Donna turned on him once she had regained her balance from the TARDIS pitching into a series of rolling jolts, "Wadya think you're doing!? Did you land wrong again? Because next time, a little warning would be nice before the floor starts moving about."

The Doctor studied the readouts on the Tardis console intently. "No, no it was the right place," he replied distractedly.

"Wrong time was it then?" Donna said walking back to him, now sounding more amused than irritated, "Landed among the dinosaurs instead of all those brainy scientist, was it? Come to think of it, you've never taken me to see any dinosaurs. Maybe next -"

"No," The Doctor cut her off, "No, time was right too. Spot on, actually. Within seconds of the target time," he managed to preen for a moment at his excellent driving skills.

"Then what the hell are we flying off for?" Donna demanded, moving her hands to her hips. He could tell she was working up to one of her Glares. The kind with the capital G.

The Doctor scratched the back of his head and furrowed his brow in thought. To himself more than in answer to Donna's question he said, "That just it, isn't it? Right place, right time, but wrong. As wrong as a thing can be. We weren't crossing my own timeline, were we? No of course not, I would remember. Ah but a future self maybe! No. No no no! Then other me would remember! Unless, I forgot that is. Maybe it was like that time on Fleitxior when the quantum stabilizer…" The Doctor rapidly devolved into technobabble.

"Oi!" Donna brought him back from his mental orbit around a distant planet. He had the feeling it wasn't the first time she had tried to get his attention. "So are we going to watch the moon landing or not?"

"Not." The Doctor said tearing his eyes away from the readouts on the console to address Donna. "Definitely not."

"And why not?!" she demanded, cocking her head at him, eyes narrowed. Oh, he was in dangerous territory now.

"But…but I just told you! The timelines! They were all wrong. Very dangerous. And…"

"Oh stuff it," she cut him off. "I don't think I can deal with another one of your 'very simple explanations' that go on for ages. But I gather that we aren't going to the moon landing, the very trip you have been promising me for days need I remind you, because it would be world ending or some such rubbish."

"Galaxy ending," he corrected. "Possibly even universes ending."

"Well alright then." She shrugged, catching him off guard with her acquiescence. She really was getting the hang of this time travel business. "But you are going to make it up to me, spaceman. We're going shopping."

He had groaned, but complied in the end. He needed a few replacement parts for the Tardis anyway…

There. That was it. That was when things started getting blurry. He dragged his hands down his face from where they had been busy pulling at his hair and stood up to pace the room. It must be something about…what was the planet he brought them to again? Oh yes, Bloagdore. Specifically the dusty market city on the smallest continent of the mostly ocean planet. Bloagdore…Bloagdore…he couldn't think of anything particularly strange or dangerous about the planet. Sure, it was a interplanetary trading destination. Attracted all sorts, those types of places. But usually the locals ensured it to be a rather safe, and therefore, boring place. Zero tolerance for any funny business. In fact, he had been banished in his fourth incarnation simply for sneezing without covering his mouth! Good thing he'd changed his face a few times since then..

So what was it? What? What? What!? He closed his eyes and went back to his last clear memory again. He tried to move forward in his mind and was stopped abruptly by a very closed and locked door. Figuratively, of course.

Now that was strange.

He wasn't aware of any outside source that would tie off memories in quite that fashion. There were memory wipers that amusingly looked like a pink earth eraser, but those just left white space where the memories would be. There were countless poisons that could do the trick, but he was immune to 97.3% of them, not to mention this poisons also obliterated the memory completely. His mind spiraled off in all of the 4,364,978 ways a Time Lord's memory could be tampered with and only one left him with what he was currently facing. Which meant…which meant that he was the one who tampered with his memories. What on Gallifrey would make him do that? It wouldn't be the first time, he supposed, but tinkering with his memories had certainly never resulted in him waking up companionless and imprisoned before. Well, almost never. Weeell, maybe twice if he was completely honest. He nudged at the lock in his mind and snorted at his rather shoddy job of it. Rushed and crude, that was. Barely above what one would expect of a time tot. None of this was making sense and with Donna and an inescapable room to think about, he had better figure this mess out soon. With a deep breath he kicked down the door in his mind and was instantly flooded with a cascade of memories. He was assaulted with images, smells and sounds as all his questions were answered in horrifying clarity.

"No." He gasped. "No. Oh Rassilon, no." And with that his legs gave way and the very impressive Time Lord was reduced to a crumpled heap slumped against the side of the bed. Each wave of memory cut through his hearts and an icy hollowness spread out from his core. He now knew why those memories had been locked away. It had been a reflex, the rare response of a Time Lord experiencing immense trauma. It had been a sliver of kindness in a universe that was far too often, far too cruel - A kindness that was no longer protecting him. He remembered…

They had been at a booth on Bloagdore, him and Donna, where she impatiently waited for him to find a particular part the Tardis needed for the environmental controls of his sixth greenhouse. All the while Donna was trying to hurry him along by complaining that this was supposed to be her shopping trip that he had promised her after he cocked up the whole moon landing thing. He was not quite successful in turning her out as he sifted through mounds of junk that went up to his waist. He had just spotted the bluish silver part he was looking for when a breeze ruffled his hair and brought him an impossible scent. A scent of honey and home that had graced the halls of the Tardis when she had wandered them and still clung to her pillow on the melancholy days he retreated into her room - for comfort or torture, he was never really sure. "Impossible," he whispered as he looked wildly around in the direction the breeze was coming from.

"What's that?" Donna asked coming up beside him, "You talking to spare parts now is it?" He ignored her, his eyes impossibly wide and frantically scanning for something he knew couldn't exist. Not here, not in this universe, anyway. And yet, if anyone in the multiverse could prove him wrong…

There! Through a break in the crowd he saw her. His brilliant, impossible girl. "Rose," he whispered, not daring to believe what his eyes (and nose) were telling him. She looked radiant, hardly a day older than when he had seen her last. She was wearing a tailored red feminine suit, not usually her style, but he basked in the sight all the same. His eyes caught on the glint of an odd, diamond shaped pendant strung around her neck but were soon pulled up to her lips as she turned them up in a smile. It wasn't quite her patented glowing Rose Tyler smile, it didn't quite reach her eyes, but it was enough to spur his body into motion. He leapt over the pile of spare parts he had been digging through, a feat he distantly felt was rather impressive, and without a missed step or stumble was racing towards her.

Images of fierce hugs, faces pressed into hair to rediscover cherished scents, and finally, oh finally lips meeting in bliss raced through his head as he pushed through the crowd getting closer to everything he ever wanted but thought he would never be able to have. But just as he was drawing closer, she winked at him and took off at a run down the alleyway behind her.

He almost paused at her strange reaction. Why was she running from him? Him! Was she angry that she'd had to be the one to find him? Was she here because of him at all? She had to be, right? She was his Rose wasn't she? His - oh Rassilon, was there another bloke? But when he had looked up, just before, from the junk parts he was searching through, she had been staring right at him. And she had smiled. Whatever it was, whatever her reasons were, she was at least happy to see him. Everything else could be figured out after he had given her a proper hello. One that possibly involved snogging her senseless. The thought was enough to increase his already impressive pace as he tore after her down the alleyway. Distantly, he heard Donna yelling after him. He didn't look back, knowing that Donna would understand when he explained it all to her later.

By the time he entered the alley, which had the unfortunate smell of milk gone off, he just barely caught a glimpse of yellow hair as she turned down another side street at a sprint. He pursued her, marveling at her speed and endurance as she led him through a dizzying maze of twisting alleyways. Finally, when even his superior biology was straining to keep up this breakneck pace, he turned the corner to find her standing breathless in a doorway that marked a dead end of the alley. He stopped short and stared in wonder. Finally, finally, after being separated by white walls and bloody universes, there she was, just a dozen meters away.

"Rose," he reverently puffed out between shaky breaths. She smiled at him again and all the hows and whys faded as his legs figured out how to work once again, bringing him closer a shaky step at a time.

He was just a few meters away when everything went to hell.

The cloth covering of the doorway she was standing in was thrown back and a uniformed man with an eyepatch stepped forward raising a large crystalline knife.

"No! Rose! ROSE! Behind you!" he shouted, time slowing down, air seeming to thicken, impeding his now frantic attempt to reach her, to get to her before the blade did. But from the second the knife was raised, it was already too late.

With a quizzical look Rose turned half-around just in time to see the man plunge the knife deep into her abdomen. She stared at the crystal blade incredulously as the eye-patched man jerked it harshly up her torso in a deep, jagged line and then faded back into the dwelling he came from.

"NOOO!" the Doctor screamed as he covered the last few steps toward her just a second too late. She stumbled into his arms, a cruel mockery of the reunion he always dreamed of. Her knees gave way and he eased her descent to the dusty ground.

"Rose! Oh Rassilon!" was all he could say at first as he looked into the face that had haunted and graced his dreams for the past two years. Swallowing, he gained some composure and attempted a smile. For her. For her he could do anything, even as he felt his world fracturing, "Rose. Look at you. You found me! You're brilliant, you are," he said with a quivering smile, "It's ok now. Don't worry it's all going to be ok. I've got you see," he tightened his grip around her shoulders for emphasis, "You're going to be ok. You are, Rose. Please, hold on. I've got you. I've got you."

He let his gaze dip down to her ruined abdomen where the hand not supporting her lolling head was already pressed to the wound in a futile attempt to stop the torrent of blood. They were both covered in it and a growing pool was soaking into the dusty ground beneath her. A traitorous thought told him it was already too late, but he pushed it back, instead reaching into his suit pocket to fumble for his sonic screwdriver. If he could just get the bleeding to slow, if he could just keep her with him long enough to get to the TARDIS medbay…in his frantic haste the sonic screwdriver slipped from his hand and rolled just out of his reach. He let out a sob and started to reach for it when a strangled sound from Rose brought his focus back to her.

With great difficulty, she finally spoke, her voice both the healing salve and the destruction of his soul, "But…she…I…we had a deal," she said weakly, a trickle of red leaking out of the side of her mouth as she was wracked with a spasm of pain.

"What Rose? What deal? Don't worry. Please don't worry. I'll…I'll fix it," his voice cracked through the futile assurance.

Rose made a gurgling sound that he knew would haunt him through all his regenerations yet to come, coughed a spray of blood into his suit, narrowed her beautiful hazel eyes in anger and whispered, "That bitch." And then Rose Tyler closed her eyes for the last time. He felt her shudder violently in his arms for a few moments and then she was still. A stillness that no living being could achieve.

"No! Oh Rose! Please! Please don't leave me! I can't…You found me. You came all that way. Please! I…I need you," he cried into her hair, bringing a hand sticky with her blood up to caress her unmoving face. Time morphed around him, for once losing all meaning as he buried his head into the stained fabric of her suit.

Despite all attempts to shut out the world, his Time Lord senses were too keen not to register several beings coming towards him from nearby doorways. He looked up into the face of a severe looking lady with an equally severe looking eyepatch. She was flanked on either side by several large men with matching eyepatches and ridiculously oversized guns.

Rose's last words came back to him, We had a deal…That bitch. A fiery rage came over him as he glared at this women with the whole weight of the Oncoming Storm. "You!" he accused. "You did this!" Then in a broken voice, "Why?"

The woman sneered. "Collateral damage, Doctor. You're the prize here. Or at least a means to it."

He gently laid Rose's pallid body to the ground, placed a tear soaked kiss on her forehead and rose to tower over the woman who just ruined his existence. "You didn't have to kill her! She was…she was brilliant and kind and…and everything and you..you just…! You didn't have to do that! You…How dare you!" His grief was pushed back in favor of a white hot rage unlike anything he had ever felt. If he had enough of himself left, it might have frightened him, but as it was, everything he used to be had just bled out on the steps to a small house on a backwater alien planet.

He lunged at the woman, ignoring the gun carrying grunts that stood just behind her. He was an entity of rage, thoughts only for revenge. He got in one good punch that sent the woman's head back with a crack before her guards descended on him. No matter, he could take care of them too. At this close of range, those guns weren't all that useful, and even if they were, how could he care? He lashed out at his attackers, swinging almost blindly at any figure that approached him, tuning into combat skills he didn't know this body possessed. Before he took a breath, half of the guards were unconscious on the ground and he noticed that the woman, so cocky just a moment ago was nervously backing towards the mouth of the alley. She called out words he didn't register as he pursued her with predatory intent and suddenly he was fighting…he couldn't quite see. No, that wasn't right, he could at the time, but now…

A pinprick to the neck was what finally stopped him in his rampage of destruction. As the world around him blurred and then faded he could distantly hear the woman's voice, once again composed, address him, "My, my Time Lord. That's the last time I underestimate you."

Under the the assault of memory, the Doctor had sunk further down until he was sagged on the floor next to the bed. His face was an empty mask, hollow eyes were fixed on the ceiling seeing nothing but horrifying flashbacks on repeat. Closing his eyes wouldn't help, nor would pushing his palms into his ears until they rang. Whatever he did externally, his mind ended up fixed on Rose's violent last moments; the sounds, sights and smells so vivid he lost himself in them. He hadn't felt agony like this since losing his people in the Time War, and this time there was no pink and yellow human to help him heal. He didn't know what the eye-patched woman had planned for him, and he didn't really care. With luck, she would kill him and end his tortured existence. Retreating even farther into himself, his world narrowed down to the fact that Rose Tyler was dead. And it was somehow because of him.