Disclaimer - I don't own Doctor Who, the BBC does as its a trademark. I wish I did own it, so many things could do with a bit of Doctoring.

The Doctor was never more glad to be away from humans until now - Donna was the exception, but even he was pleased his companion wasn't nearby when that mess of a shuttle trip took place, the vision of her face twisted by fear and anger in the face of the unknown despite what she had seen during her time with him, brief as it was, filled him with dread, because unlike those other little monkeys in that Crusader shuttle she knew him, knew where to hurt him the most. But now, safe in his TARDIS after informing the authorities of what was out there though they probably had teams of investigators questioning what had happened out there beyond the pleasure palace, the Doctor had time to think. He didn't care if the idiots who'd set up that pleasure palace circling a Xtonic star followed through with his warnings, but the investigation teams had gathered the security and flight recording data from the Crusader before the rescue, so they knew what happened. For 3 long days the Doctor and the other survivors had been questioned so many times the story came automatically, but the Doctor didn't really care what the humans did with that knowledge.

He'd needed to inform them that he wasn't human himself, but he hadn't really bothered telling them which species he was from unlike other occasions; the Time Lords were just legends and myths now, collected by the higher races and virtually forgotten, so it wouldn't make any difference if they knew there was only one member of the species left. He had begun to realise that advertising his existence was a bad move, especially when very few people knew about the Time Lords, who had been a private species even at the height of their power.

Fortunately the investigators had more interested in asking questions about what happened on the journey to the Sapphire waterfalls rather than getting information about his species, though he had told them he was a Gallifreyan rather than a Time Lord, the less people knew about him, the better. After so many hours of repeating himself over and over on a loop, the Doctor and Donna had left. So much for a holiday. Now he had time to think, and he didn't like where his mind was going.

Humans.

Why was it that ever since that mess with Torchwood where he encountered another alien group similar but different to UNIT, some of his next encounters with humans tended to be disastrous or just showed him how little he actually knew his so called favourite species? Was the time he was going to be spending with Donna or some other future companion just going to highlight just how primitive humans were? It was bad enough that the trip to the Ood Sphere had shown the hideous way humans treated an ancient telepathic species, including imprisoning their Primary brain and whipping them whenever they tripped by accident, cutting off their hindbrains and virtually lobotomising them and forcing them into crates for shipping them to other worlds where not only did their new owners know what was going on, but they actually approved.

But Midnight.

The Doctor knew that when humans got frightened they tended to lash out at what they didn't or couldn't comprehend and he had seen it many times before, he wasn't blind to that side of their nature. But that was a prerequisite to the different races in the universe, something most races bred out of themselves to some degree when their cultures saw the need as unnecessary and primitive, but it was still an important defence mechanism.

It was just bad humans would probably never get rid of it, if they still placed the blame on others needlessly and threatened to kill someone, namely him, who's only crime was trying to help. For centuries the human race had fought to conquer their planet and dominate it before moving off into the universe using hyperdrive and warpdrive to explore the cosmos, and they had encountered the unknown on a fairly daily basis, but there were times when their fear got the better of them. The humans on the shuttle - Val, Biff, Jethro, Hobbes and Dee Dee, the hostess had been already terrified and forced into a corner by something that possessed one of them and had killed two others and had spent the time speaking along with them, and they came from a generation where the human race had colonised galaxies and encountered the unknown on a daily basis, had done for centuries, but they weren't trained explorers, they didn't see they had to lay down their primitive mindsets and look past their instincts. He wondered if it was the creature's plan to have him thrown out while pretending to be an ordinary human woman, since as an alien he'd be more resilient mentally than a human.

And those filthy humans had been prepared to kill him just because he was trying to help? After everything he had done for them as well, helping them, protecting them, stopping one invasion after another, though now he was beginning to wonder if his efforts were even worthwhile. He didn't even stop that train of thought, even if it made him think of the Valeyard or the Master's attitudes towards humans.

They had demanded to know who he'd been speaking to, as if that was relevant to their current mess, his name, things like that. Did it honestly matter? And they had been prepared to shove him through an airlock into the toxic environment where he'd definitely have died, regeneration or not just because Sky had transferred that mimicry power over to him. The Doctor flinched as he remembered how violated he'd been having his mind and body taken over like that, and he remembered that terrible memory of Sutekh taking control of his mind and body, forcing himself through his mental defences though it would take millions of Time Lord's to fight off the power of an Osirian. But having Sutekh in his mind was far different than what happened recently.

Sutekh had been twisted, deranged. Jack had once noted that all the legends of the Time Lords, of Gallifrey, had been perfect, but so to had the Osirians.

This mess….the alien entity that had possessed him, had taken control of his body, forcing him to mimic its speech when it took control of Sky's body and stopped its game with the passengers.

The Doctor had hoped to never ever feel something like that again, it was truly not a nice feeling to lose control of your body with your mind imprisoned. Just like he didn't like feeling that he should start avoiding Earth, letting them deal with their problems on their own for a change because he was just sick and tired of dealing with their inability to grow up and learn from their mistakes.

He shook his head violently, not liking where his mind was going, but he remembered the last time he'd encountered former Prime Minister Harriet Jones. She had told him that he wasn't always there, that he came and went whenever he chose. At the time the Doctor was still recovering from his recent regeneration, definitely one of the most traumatic in a long line of bad regenerations, and he was having a miserable little primate telling him he needed to hold humanity's hand simply because they couldn't see the problem through on their own?

Well, okay they might not have been able to sort everything out with the Sycorax, or the Sontarans after their recent attack on Earth, but overall they had enough experience after his third incarnations tenure in UNIT. He was tempted to spend most of his time in the 22nd century - it might be boring by the standards of a time traveller, but at least humans were moving off into space and they were beginning to stand on their own two feet for a change.

No. That wasn't fair on Donna. She lived in the 21st century, her family lived there, but so to did Martha, Sarah. (Jack didn't count - the man might have taken up residence there, but his status as a fact meant that as the centuries passed, he would live virtually every when in history.)

Donna smiled at him as he came into the kitchen. "I've already got some tea ready for you," she said,

He nodded to her gratefully. "Thanks," he said.

Donna's smile faded a little. "Still upset about Midnight?"

The Doctor nodded. "Yeah, it's kinda hard not to be disappointed by your favorite species when they turn on you like that," he said.

There was nothing Donna could say about that. She'd managed to get a look at the security footage on the Crusader 5000 when the personnel at the palace realised something was really wrong. Before she'd begun travelling with the Doctor she'd had the impression space travel would be just like Star Trek, with people zooming through the universe like Captain Kirk and being terribly nice and understanding to other people as they explored space and became better than what they were in her home time.

The reality was a big let down for Donna, who had spent a year looking for the Doctor in the hopes of travelling with him. She had grown completely bored with her life, bored with the same one track routine her mother lived by before her dad's tragic death, bored of the lack of work. She had been terrified when she'd watched what the Doctor had done to the Rachnoss, but afterwards she realised that he hadn't enjoyed what he'd done, she had seen it in his eyes. When she'd encountered him again, she had been amazed, appalled, fascinated, terrified, and angry all at the same time by what she had seen.

God, she had thought that Pompeii, Jenny, and that mess with the Ood had done a number on the Doctor, and now she was beginning to see that this would be another blow for him, but on a level that the Doctor probably had never expected before. She was worried for him because she didn't know what would happen next.

"I'm sorry," Donna said, at a loss of what else she could say.

The Doctor glanced at her and smiled. "It's not your fault," he whispered, and it was true because Donna had no control over her species anymore than Richard Lazarus had. "I don't know where we can go to next," he added, hoping for a change of subject, but he truly didn't feel enthusiastic about travelling at the moment, like how he'd felt in his sixth life after that farce of a trial.

Donna reached out a hesitant hand to reassure him, but she thought better of it. The Doctor pretended not to see it, but unlike with Rose and Martha, he didn't mind Donna showing affection; he knew she only saw him as a friend rather than a prospective boyfriend or lover. He always felt happy whenever she hugged him, and he felt upset that she believed it best not to hug him now after what had happened.

He pretended to be oblivious simply because it was better than reacting badly, though he doubted that would happen with Donna around.

Time Lords had remarkable control over their bodies and minds, and they possessed mental disciplines that enabled them to stop pain from overwhelming their bodies. But even Time Lords had their limitations when it came to pain suppression. The Doctor raised his head slowly as he tried to move, but his body felt like every bone was shattered or splintered. He groaned, feeling like his head had been pulverised by an elephant stomping on it.

"How did I get myself into this mess?" the Doctor whispered to himself, but the efforts of speaking made him wince; three of his ribs were broken, and he was unsure if one of them was going to piece one of his lungs.

While he was physically weak the Doctor was anything but weak mentally as he thought about this recent mess. He supposed it was to be expected that the UNIT soldiers who had died on Earth during his tenure there as Scientific advisor would have family and friends that would blame him for the deaths of their friend, husband, father, or son. Now he was beginning to realise that underneath his third incarnation's long nose and that of the Brigadier there would be plenty of anger focused towards him for whenever someone died.

Too many people in UNIT had died over the years, but their families and fellow soldiers were wrong if they believed he hadn't given them a second thought. Worse, their anger had been matched by the survivors of Torchwood. If he ever felt more loathing for that bunch of irresponsible morons, it was now.

Anyway, the Doctor and Donna had returned to the 21st century; the Doctor was trying to find and rediscover his admiration and love for humanity, and Donna just wanted to take a break in familiar surroundings, and they'd gone their own separate ways because they were trying to find something different.

The Doctor had just been looking around, hoping to find some pop CDs to add to his already large collection in the TARDIS, when he was suddenly attacked and kidnapped. The next thing he knew he was being beaten, bloodied, tortured, and even threatened with rape and murder. It wasn't until much later that he was finally told who had kidnapped him, and he'd felt physically and mentally ill.

These people were relatives, former UNIT soldiers, friends of dead UNIT soldiers who had died during and after his third incarnation's tenure at the organisation. Oh god, he'd seen so many people die during those days during his exile imposed by the Time Lords, but he had never imagined their friends and relatives would sink so low as to kidnap him later after letting their fear and hatred for him fester so much. All actions had consequences, and the Doctor was beginning to realise that, after hundreds of years of nonchalantly swaggering off with his head held so high like everything like the suffering of relatives of soldiers killed in battle was beneath his notice and feeling so above the humans sadness for the loss of their loved ones.

And now he was paying for it.

To make matters worse, his former UNIT colleagues family members and former UNIT comrades who'd had to watch as their friends died at the hands, tentacles, claws, ray weapons of aliens, and they had found the perfect allies; Torchwood.

The Doctor had no idea how many had survived the massacre at Canary Wharf, but there had to be some who'd survived in order to build that lab under the Thames, but he and Donna had never met anyone at the lab when they'd faced the Empress. So where had they gone? The Doctor now knew that Torchwood must have been whittled down to a few members who blamed him for the Battle of Canary Wharf when in fact the whole mess was their fault. It made no difference now because they were working to kill him.

But while the Doctor was upset with the new low the humans had sunken to, he also felt his rage grow; he had saved this miserable planet and species how many times, and now they were planning to kill him in the pretence of revenge. Ha! They couldn't even agree on why they were planning to kill him, they had so many insignificant reasons. They hadn't even spoken to him, except to taunt him about how he wasn't so high and mighty now. The Doctor was desperate to escape from this hell, and he had formed a plan to escape, but if he needed it to work he would need to heal his injuries, or else his lungs would be shredded if his theory was correct that one of his ribs had been so badly damaged that if he moved, let alone ran, he would risk internal bleeding.

And there was only one way to do that.

A partial regeneration.

Oh, and he had tried hard to stop using any regeneration energy for something useless. The Doctor still hoped to make a difference in the universe, but he didn't want to be murdered by a bunch of savage humans who blamed him for everything. He knew it was unfair, but he couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if he had let races like the Cybermen or the Sycorax slaughter or enslave humanity, it might make the stupid race learn a few things before he stepped in and left them to wallow in their despair.

God, what was happening to him? Why was he constantly thinking thoughts that made sense only to the twisted minds of Time Lords like the Master or the Valeyard? Was he just as prejudiced towards humans as those two twisted bastards - the Valeyard was not him, just a distillation of his darkest thoughts given form - and he hid it better, or was it something that had just developed recently after that mess with Midnight and the Ood Sphere, a growing but real contempt for humans? But seriously the Doctor had always felt a bit of unease with humans whenever they went into one of their evil phases like when ever the Silurians and the Sea Devils appeared, or when they refused to negotiate with an alien and preferred going in with guns blazing and not giving a damn about what could happen next because of their arrogance.

But this time…..they had kidnapped him, brutally assaulted him, and now there was a chance he could regenerate no matter what he did. His plan was straight forward enough - he would partially regenerate, focusing the energy into the most painful parts of his body and he would use enough to heal his injuries, and then he would use the enhanced strength in his arms to break free of the chains, and then he'd escape. After that….he didn't know, but he knew one thing he couldn't just let them get away with it, but what could he do? He had little idea where he was, and he didn't even know how many of them there were.

But he could never just walk away as if nothing happened, and if he did and this bunch tried to capture him again and someone was with him, someone like Donna or someone different, perhaps someone younger unless he really rethought his habit of picking people up from their home times and dropped them into the middle of dangerous situations. And this was a dangerous situation, and as much as the Doctor might be sometimes nonchalant he did care what happened.

The Doctor closed his eyes, pushing those thoughts out of his mind before he focused on his regeneration energy. He had enough regenerative energy left in his body for two more regenerations, but if he was really careful not to let the energy reach a critical point there was a hope his energy reserves would replenish themselves for the next regeneration. Ever since that mess with Reinette, long before he'd met Donna, the Doctor had sworn to reserve his regenerations for a little longer to make them last, because with the Time Lords gone the universe was his responsibility, and he had no intention of becoming careless in his old age.

But this was important. If he didn't use the energy he had in his body, then he would either regenerate, giving his captors a chance to inflict more terrible damage onto him before his regenerated again into his final life. At least by doing this he'd have said he'd been trying to escape.

He felt the regeneration energy surge through his body, and he mentally controlled the flow of energy, focusing on his damaged legs and arms, and his chest. The rest he could fix later on in the TARDIS, if he found a way out. He felt his injuries partially heal before he stopped the partial regeneration, and he felt his limbs feel re-energised.

The Doctor strained at his bonds; unlike a real regeneration aftermath his arms weren't super strong like they were when he'd regenerated into his fourth and eighth lives, but they were strong enough for this. It took him a minute to tear the chains free from their bolts in the walls, using Time Lord strength against really low grade human chains which creaked and tore easily. It was a good thing the humans had only chained his arms and not his legs. The Doctor stretched his legs and shook his arms, the first time he'd been able to for the last few days, feeling the familiar tingling aftermath of a regeneration.

He had just taken a few steps towards the door when he heard the sound of running feet, and he closed his eyes with a groan. They had a camera in here, that was all that made sense to him, otherwise why else would they be coming so fast?

The Doctor closed his eyes even as the locks on the door clicked and rattled, concentrating on slowing time down. The humans might have knowledge of what he could do, but he hadn't really shown off these time bending powers. They weren't meant for this kind of thing, and they weren't meant to be used too often either. They were illegal, but who was going to care?

He was aware of the door opening slowly, and a small group coming in perhaps 3 men or women, he didn't care whom, and he stepped through the gap. Dropping the time trick, the Doctor didn't give the humans a chance to fight back or retaliate. He coiled the chains in his hands and used them like knuckledusters, and he punched one of the humans - a young man in the adam's apple, making him cough and drop to the ground weakly. Ignoring his usual compassion, the Doctor used one of the chains to whip the other two in the face and in their bodies before he picked up one of their weapons. The Doctor released the magazine and checked the ammunition, knowing from experience the difference between a blank and a live bullet. They were live. Without giving too much thought, the Doctor shot the two still standing humans in the chest with a single bullet, turning away and barely wincing when their dead or dying bodies dropped to the ground.

There was only one human left, the man who was still coughing.

Roughly the Doctor gripped the man's head, and ignoring the invasion of privacy and his own morals he forced himself into the man's mind. As he thought the man had had some psychic training which meant using the psychic paper was impossible but the human was no match for a Time Lord reaching into his mind. The human was barely aware of what he was doing, not that he could put up much of a defence as the Doctor ripped through his brain and searched his memories.

They had taken him from London and brought him all the way down to Brighton. Well, at least he could find a way out, and he knew how many others there were in the building they were in. There was only one other man, a former member of Torchwood who had lost everything. The Doctor pulled out of the humans's mind, taking with him the knowledge of how many others there were in this sick organisation, and where they were based, and where his sonic screwdriver and TARDIS key were.

Picking up the gun and leaving the wheezing and whimpering human behind, though he quickly put a bullet in his brain before he simply walked off when the sounds became too much for him, the Doctor went after the other human, slowing time down around himself so then the human wouldn't hear him coming, and he readied his gun. The Doctor hated guns, detested them because of the memories of seeing so many innocent people dying, but it was worse than that when you thought about the Last Great Time War and his actions during that war.

But the Doctor wasn't in the mood to care about his abhorrence of violence at the moment, all he wanted to do was get out of here, grab a car and return to the TARDIS. He would call Donna on the way, while making sure no one got a good look at his injured face before he could use the sick bay in the TARDIS to heal them.

The Doctor used his knowledge taken from that humans' mind to navigate around the building. It was just an old abandoned block of flats that were probably abandoned for some reason that he couldn't be bothered to care about, but the humans who'd caught him had simply converted a few rooms to their own sick needs.

Finally, he caught up with the last human and he stopped concentrating and before the human could react the Doctor had punched him in the face before using a few impulsive Venusian aikido moves - he really had to get back his proficiency in this martial art, it was really useful - but what his limbs lacked in practice, his recently recharged and healed arms made up for in strength. Once the human was stunned, the Doctor reached out and once more used his telepathy.

He did much the same thing as before, only this time the Doctor was less gentle in his probing. What he saw made him feel sick because he saw that this deprived bunch of savages had planned to attack the friends he had that they knew about, and Martha and her family were near the top of their list because of Martha's double association with UNIT and Torchwood. No, they didn't deserve that after what happened with the Master.

He found where this group were based - the other man's knowledge was good, but this one's knowledge was even better - and he made plans on how to deal with them once and for all.

The Doctor stopped what he was doing and stood up, looking down with contempt at the human even as he recovered; he did have to wonder at the psychic training these idiots went through, because he recovered quickly.

The man shivered and looked up at the figure looming over him. "You'll never beat us, freak," he spat hoarsely. "We'll get you."

As hard as it was for him to push the thoughts presently running around through his brain, the Doctor found it very hard to look at this….thing cowering at his feet, saying those things to him, using that name, and not see the whole human race. This was what a human really was, a primitive beast with no concept of morality or compassion.

The Doctor lifted the gun and without giving himself time to think, he fired at point blank range into the man's brain.

"Where are you?" Donna shouted down the phone.

The Doctor sighed. He had stopped over by pulling his stolen car into the curb on the side of the road and had just called Donna with a stolen mobile phone to let her know he was okay. He'd also had to tell her about the kidnap and the torture, but he hadn't told her yet what had happened to the scum who'd locked him up. "I told you, I'm on the road, heading back into London. But how are things with you?"

"How do you think they are? I got back to the TARDIS, you weren't there. I've been on the phone to Martha and that UNIT lot, but they didn't lift a finger to help-"

"Hold on, say that again?" The Doctor interrupted with growing horror. "UNIT refused to help?"

"Well a few of them tried, but others refused to even try," Donna clarified. "Me and Martha met this old bloke. He said his name was Alistair Lethbridge something."

"Alistair Gordon Lethbridge Stewart. He and I go back a long way," the Doctor said. "So he tried to help?"

"Yeah, but UNIT wouldn't help. He was really angry with it," Donna said.

The Doctor sighed. "I can imagine. Where are you now?"

"I'm in the TARDIS. Martha wanted to have it moved, but UNIT didn't want to."

A pit of despair and worry was gnawing at the Doctor's insides. He had always trusted UNIT ever since his second incarnation's second meeting with Alistair during that business with Tobias Vaughn and the Cybermen, and he had always thought that his relationship with them had garnered him a few debts they'd be more than willing to pay, but if some of their leaders were actually involved with the mob who were trying to kill him…

"Donna," the Doctor whispered, hoping his mind would stop this terrible train of thought; he didn't like where this was going, and he wanted to change the subject or else he'd go mad. "These….people who kidnapped me, they might know where the TARDIS is. Don't go out, whatever you do, and don't answer the door if someone knocks. If they get their hands on you, I have no idea what they'll do to you."

"Doctor, I'm really scared."

"I don't blame you. I'm just as scared as you are Donna, so please don't do anything stupid. Actually, I want you to go to the console to where I pull on that lever, the one near the chair in the room."

"And then what?"

"I can't do it here, I'm going to need a car park. I'll call you back," the Doctor said, ending the call.

It took the Doctor another five minutes to find a decent car park and he parked his stolen vehicle in a corner of a services station. He flashed his screwdriver at the cameras. He'd destroyed the cameras in the flats that were his prison. After collecting medical data from his body and stored it inside the screwdriver, he called Donna again.

"Okay, Donna has anything happened?" he asked quickly.

"No. What's going on?"

"I can you to listen for my screwdriver," the Doctor said as he pointed his screwdriver at the screen of his stolen phone and turned it on, "now place the screen of the phone towards the monitor of the scanner and make sure they touch. I'm transferring the screwdriver's location to the TARDIS destination computer. As soon as the screen beeps that means the co-ordinates are set."

"There's a beep," Donna said over the whirl of the screwdriver. "These's a beep, Doctor."

"Yes, I've noticed," the Doctor said dryly. "Now, pull the handbrake lever down, and the TARDIS will come to me."

Usually the TARDIS was erratic, but she knew better than to play games when her Time Lord was injured and needed help, and besides he was focusing his symbiotic nuclei into the screwdriver to make sure the TARDIS knew better than to disobey. She wouldn't like it but he didn't care.

Over the phone and the whirl of the screwdriver, he heard the sound of the TARDIS dematerialising before she began to rematerialise again, this time materialising around the car. It was strange the TARDIS materialising around him, since it gave out a ghostly impression of Donna standing next to the console, but he smiled a pained smile at the sight of his beloved TARDIS and his best friend.

As soon as the materialisation stopped the Doctor got out and sat down on the grating near the console. Donna came over, gasping in horror at the sight of his bruised face.

"What did they do to you?"

The Doctor just shivered.

A few hours later the TARDIS was back in the Time Vortex, safe and sound from any more human attacks. But for the Doctor everything was far from fine. He was resting in a bath of warm nanite enriched bacta, a substance he had used on George Lucas a long time ago when the film writer was only just setting out, but he'd been a wreck when he and Donna had gotten him into the tank in the first place. The Doctor had simply taken him on a few trips in the TARDIS to help inspire him when he was struggling, and one time the man got injured, so the Doctor had used bacta to help heal him. George had loved it and had written it into his Star Wars movies. The Doctor had simply told him not to bother paying him the rights. It would be hundreds of years before humans bothered to create a similar substance, yet another science fiction thing that was a reality, because of him. It wasn't exactly breaking the laws of time, but rather bending them a little bit.

The Doctor was floating inside a bacta tank with a mask supplying him with air while he felt the nanites do their work in repairing his body while he allowed his mind to wander in a meditative state. Donna had already helped him as best as she could with the repairs to his broken bones and some of his other injuries, and she had helped him with the mask before he'd told her to leave since this would take hours.

He was just pleased that it was almost over, and all he had to do now was wait until he could get around to dealing with those psychopaths and put an end to their plans. He wasn't going to negotiate with them, he would have to kill them.

He only hoped he could do it.

Maybe he should just carry the gun as a precaution, but since he had told Jenny that crap about how guns changed people he should have looked back on the number of times he had carried or used a weapon, you only had to look into his past during the Time War to see it.

Author's note - Okay, I admit this never happened in the series and is a truly AU thing to do, but I've gotten back into watching the Trial of a Time Lord where the Doctor met the Valeyard and what could be his future. Granted, I don't believe the Valeyard is a physical manifestation of a future life for the Doctor, but I think that as time has passed from the Sixth Doctor he has become a noticeably darker character while trying hard to deny it.

Please tell me what you think.