Author Note:

Hey guys! This is my first piece on the site, although I've dabbled a bit in Doctor Who fanfiction, but never felt confident enough to actually post any. This particular story has been born out of my love for wanting to write something heavy with the timey-wimey confusion.

Warnings: There might be some minor use of swearing and reference to adult themes, but nothing excessive. Also, possible spoilers for all of season 6A, although I can't tell you up to what point.

Chapter 1:

oOoOoOo

There are few things as terrifying as waking up, and not knowing where you are.

Rory woke with a start, quite suddenly, as a low groan rocked his body. He found himself lying on top of the sheets of a stranger's bed, in an unknown room, wearing clothes that were not his own. His head throbbed painfully, like he'd fallen and hit it something hard.

There was disorientation, then pain, and then fear.

He carefully rose out of the bed, taking inspect his body. It wasn't just a throbbing head; everything felt sore, with deep aches on his left side. The room was dark, with only enough light for him to navigate by, so he couldn't really analyse his wounds, but they didn't seem to be anything worst than tender bruises. Rory tried to check if he had a concussion; but that's not something that can be easily done on yourself. Finally, he scanned his memories, trying to take stock; why was he here? What was the last thing that he could remember?

What he found did not comfort him.

Shakily, Rory got to his feet, and tried to navigate through the dark, foreign room. He found a door; nervously he tried to open it. To his surprise, it was unlocked. With his heart beat quickening, he took uneasy steps into the hallway beyond. The corridor was long, filled with an eerie blue light that seemed to emanate from the very walls. As for the walls themselves…well, they were strange. Under Rory's hand they were cold, but he could not place the material. Maybe metal, maybe plastic; mostly smooth, but there were occasional rough places. Whatever it was, it was just another unrecognisable thing in this strange place. There were no windows, but then, what else could you expect? Kidnappers don't usually choose places with nice seaside views for the incarceration of their victims. That didn't mean that Rory had to like it. Without windows, the corridors seemed painfully monotonous and similar. There were no pictures, no wallpapers, just evenly spaced roundels. It was impossible to tell one patch of wall from another, and he quickly found himself losing what little sense of direction he had. Windows also would have given him a sense of where he had already gone. And where was this place? The city? The country-side? Underground? Probably the latter. There was no real reason to suggest the last one, but Rory had a gut feeling. This place felt big, like some kind of underground bunker.

For some reason, that didn't really seem to reassure him.

What should he do? Rory didn't know. Fear tasted bitter in his mouth. But he couldn't just stand around, waiting. He didn't know who had put him here, but Rory didn't think he'd want to find out. So he'd have to keep moving; maybe then he could find out where he was, and how to escape.

So Rory started down the mysterious corridor.

oOoOoOoOo

Amy was running. Her feet slapped the floor in a frantic rhythm, her heart pounded in her chest, and her lungs burned for air. This was quite the normal state of affairs for her.

So, let's see. Random corridors of underground base? Check. Creepy blue lights? Check. Evil alien conspiracy which wanted her dead? Check. Under her arm was some sort of technical gizmo; it resembled a three-foot long purple kazoo that hummed constantly. She didn't know what it did, except that the Doctor said it was important, and that had been enough for her. The Doctor had been proven correct when the moment she removed it from the base's main power grid an alarm had gone off, signalling for the guards to chase after her. So, that was good. Not the aliens-chasing-her thing, obviously, but they'd find a way to deal with that. They always did.

She looked around; behind her were the guards, shouting and screaming. They were too far away for her to worry about yet; she ducked around a corner. Ah, yes, there was the door where they'd promised to meet. With her feet skidding on the slick, tiled ground, she swung in, pushing the door open, revealing yet another corridor. "DOCTOR!"

"Amee! Woh, good. You got eet."

The Time Lord looked more ridiculous than usual; his arms were laden with bizarre items, which looked something like elephant tusks, if elephant tusks were light pink and dripping with strange oil. The sonic screw-driver was clamped between his teeth, forcing him to mumble.

"Being chased." Amy pointed backwards. "Get the door?"

He clenched his teeth harder; there was a whirring sound, and the screwdriver glowed. There was an audible click as the door locked in place.

Amy inclined her head at the Doctor. "Shall we?"

They ran.

The Doctor had a plan; Amy knew that. Or a plan in the making. She just didn't know the details. He couldn't tell her now, not with the screwdriver in his mouth, and even if his tongue was free, the Doctor probably wouldn't have. It wasn't his style; she'd be told when it when it was important. For now, she just had to focus on running, defeating the bad-guys, and just generally being amazing. This is what she lived for; what she'd been waiting to do since she had been a little girl, when a man had dropped out of the sky in a blue box. Even though they were running for her lives, she found herself grinning at the Doctor.

Then, quite suddenly, there was a noise.

It wasn't a big noise. It was more like a groan; it started quiet, so faint that it could almost be mistaken for the background sounds of the base. Then, for a split-second, it became overwhelming. Quite suddenly, it stopped.

And in the Doctor's place was standing another man.

oOoOoOoOoOo

Rory had been wandering around for fifteen minutes, approximately. He couldn't be sure; he didn't have a watch. He'd spent those fifteen minutes feeling more and more hopelessly lost.

His nerves seemed to be working into overdrive. The creepiness of this strange building was getting to him. It almost felt like he was being watched, like there was a presence with him every moment, inspecting him. That was ridiculous, of course. He was being paranoid, even allowing for the fact that he'd just been kidnapped. He still couldn't help but look around for some type of camera.

Eventually he came across a door and had opened it up cautiously, not sure of what to expect. It was half relief, half disappointment, when he realised it was just a supply closet. True, it was an abnormally big one, filled with various chemicals and brands that Rory didn't know or recognise, but no matter where you are, closets with random clean-up gear always have the same feeling about them. Combine that with the normal, orange-y yellow light, that little closet felt like the first piece of familiarity he'd encountered all day. (Was it even day time? Rory had no way of knowing.)

A good part of him wished that he could just hide in that supply closet, but the larger, more sensible part of him told him that'd he'd have to leave eventually. So he did, but not before picking up a long, black metal object to take with him. At first Rory had thought it was the end of a vacuum cleaner, but closet inspection showed that whatever it was, that wasn't it. Still, it was long and heavy, and would definitely hurt if swung at a person.

So he left again, and started down the creepy hallways, feeling somewhat more secure with a weapon in hand.

Perhaps five more minutes passed until he found himself somewhere different. The hallway branched out in two directions, where Rory also found two doors. One was quite mechanical looking, like something you'd find out of an old Star Trek episode, while the other framed with ornate carvings, out of what looked like wood. It was the most unique, out of place thing Rory had come across all day. He hung there, uncertain; which door would he take?

Just as he deliberated to just peak through both, and decide then- he froze. There was the sound of footsteps coming from the other side of the door. And…humming?

Rory crouched into a fighting stance, his hands gripping the metal object, painfully aware of how sweaty his palms felt. He pressed himself to the side of the door, just as they slid open, and prepared to face the stranger.