Author's notes: It's a pity, but I don't own Doctor Who. But if anyone's feeling generous…?

It wasn't the future. It wasn't the past. It was now. The most important now. The now she would live/had lived thirteen times over. The only now when she was strong enough.

Her Thief was busy, rattling around inside her, but his eyes were too fixed on the planet beneath her to see what she was doing; what she had always been doing when it was now.

She poured her energy to a point perfectly in the centre of herselves, every reserve she could spare, causing a pinprick of light to appear. It looked like a faint and distant star, but it was so much more. Her Thief never had/would understand why she was always so low on energy after this now. Most of him didn't even remember this now, and those of him that do would wrongly assume the paradox of existing so many times at once is exhausting for her, just as it had overwhelmed him. Her brilliant Thief, but he should have known better, for she always existed so many times at once.

Her oldest self (was it her? or was she the youngest?) guided the light. After centuries she had found her gift, and she directed all her power to reach for it, but something went wrong, as she knew it would. One of her Thief's enemies touched the light. It was damaged, but not destroyed. It was pulled with the light to its destination. She shook the creature free, but it was still too close. It could reach her gift before her Thief. She could withdraw, protect her gift, casting the enemy away to be safely dealt with by her Thief in his future, but this was the only moment she could reach. There was only this now or her gift would be lost. She pressed forward, guiding the enemy but trusting her Thief.

She wrapped herself around her gift; protected it, prepared it, then, at the right moment, she plucked it, as a fruit from its tree. The agony of separation ricocheted through her, the physical pain lasting but a moment, while a deeper, more devastating pain lasted a lifetime, but she survived, as did her gift. As a fruit planted in fertile soil would grow, so too would her gift become something wonderful. She placed her gift in the path of her Thief right when he most needed it, trusting him to help it grow. It was his gift now.

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She burned, and she froze. Pain tore through her body, but she was made of nothing, and everything. Then it ended.

She couldn't move, but she was screaming. Her memory didn't make sense. She had been somewhere good, somewhere bright, but now the air was cold and the world was dark. Her eyes were closed, but she saw a man run towards her, no two men, but there was only one man. Their familiar faces bled and morphed together and apart again, always distorted, like reflections on a rippling pond.

She heard a deep rumble around her. Somewhere she felt herself categorise the rumble as speaking, but the thought made no sense to her at the time. The scream in her head continued, a pattern repeating over and over. The pattern caused such pain, but while she couldn't understand it, it was too important to let go of it.

She felt her body being moved. Until it did, it was as though her body hadn't existed. But now she could feel her own weight dragging her down. She could feel the pressure of the ground underneath her. She could feel something pressing against her head, something moving, stroking. The pressure somehow conveyed comfort, and her awareness of it grew. The rumble that was a voice was speaking in a pattern too, and, like the movement on her head, it brought comfort, but the pain that was the screaming overwhelmed what little comfort it offered.

The darkness around her grew less, and light began to gently press against her eyelids. She wasn't as cold any more. She was wrapped in something warm and her body was gently rocking. The sensation felt wrong and yet so familiar, but trying to understand it only made the screaming stronger.

The indistinct rumbling was beginning to coalesce around her, but it still took her a few moments before she began to discern its meaning.

"I'm sorry, but you're okay. I'm so, so sorry, but you're okay."

The whisper continued to surround her, and she felt as though she was falling into her body more and more. She recognised arms wrapped around her, pressing her into someone's chest.

"I'm so sorry…"

The voice was being whispered into her hair, and a hand was gently stroking the back of her head as her awareness grew.

"…you're okay."

…ssseee. She opened her eyes. She'd been at a party, a picnic, but now it was dark, night. …sssseee. There was grass and people, but now there were bricks and concrete and garbage. …sssseee.

See what? she asked herself. She was in an alley, she recognised that now, but how did she get here?

Jesssss… She shook her head, trying to clear it.

"…but you're okay."

She tried to reply to the voice. Yes, she was okay, she was coming back to herself now, but when she opened her mouth to speak, it was the repeated scream that she whispered out. "Jesse."

Immediately an image shone through her mind; a boy with golden curls and clear, blue eyes. She'd cuddled him against her chest just a few minutes ago when he scraped his knee…

"JESSE!" This time her voice came out as a panicked scream. She violently pushed the person who her held her away and was on her feet. She turned her head frantically, searching the alley for that crop of golden curls. "JESSEEE!" She hadn't even taken two steps before black spots began to swim across her vision. Just as her body started to fall, she felt arms around her again, supporting her. The arms gently but firmly brought her back to the ground where her vision began to improve.

"He's okay," the voice told her. "Jesse's okay. I'm sorry. Jesse's okay, but you've gotten a bit lost."

Lost? "Where is he?" she croaked.

"He's at home. He's safe. He'll be okay. He has all of your family with him." The man was holding her tightly, comfortingly, again. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. You got lost, so lost. I can't take you home. I'm so sorry, but I can't take you home."

"NO!" She angrily pushed him away again. This time she couldn't raise herself off the pavement, but she spun to face him regardless. She knelt, sitting on her feet, hands on the ground in front of her for balance.

The stranger had been crying; tear tracks ran down both of his cheeks, and his eyes looked like they were on the cusp of overflowing again.

"Shae, I'm sorry, I really am." He held his hands out as a placating gesture. "Please…" but he stopped, not seeming to know how to finish his sentence.

"Who are you?!" She demanded furiously. "Where's my son?!" She tried to push herself up again, but her body was too wobbly to let her even raise her head higher than it currently was.

"I'm sorry," he repeated again. "I know you don't understand, but you got lost. Jesse is fine. He's at home with your mum and dad, and Rob will be home from work soon. They'll look after Jesse. They always will. I'm sorry. You fell through a hole or a gap or a crack and you came here. I promise you that everything will be okay, but I'm sorry, I can't take you home. I promise that I would, but I can't and I'm so sorry."

She had been unconsciously backing away from the man. She had thought she understood his words now, but nothing he said made any sense to her. All she knew was that he was a familiar stranger (familiar?), and he'd said her name. "Did you do this to me?" she whispered, horrified.

"No, Shae, no." His despairing voice was almost as soft as hers had been, and his face had become all blurry.

She absentmindedly reached one hand up to her cheek, but even after feeling the dampness, it didn't register to her that she was crying. She continued to look at his blurry face in horror. Familiar? He was one of the distorted men she'd recognised before she'd opened her eyes; one of the two men, who were the same man, who had been running to her. She looked around quickly, expecting the other man to jump out of any shadow, and there were so many…

"Shae, please," he called to her, reaching his hand out as if he wanted her to take it.

"No," she denied him, fearfully backing away.

He dropped his hand and his gaze. She froze, as though she thought he would forget about her if she didn't move and draw his attention again.

"I'm sorry," he whispered again. "I'm sorry for how hard this will be. But I promise you, you will be okay. Just trust him." He locked his gaze with hers again, and she could see that the water in his eyes had spilt.

"Who?" she asked, bewildered.

His mouth twisted into the ghost of a smile. "Me."

He started talking rapidly. "I know you need to go, but I need to tell you something first, something to protect you, both of you. A word. Use it to protect yourself from him. You can't let him into your mind, not until you're stronger. This word will keep him out. Well, it won't really stop him, but he'll choose to stop. But you can't tell him until this face asks."

She shook her head, but in confusion rather than denial. "Wha… I don't…"

"He'll ask you, he'll ask so many times, but you can't tell him that I told you until I'm the once asking. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, but you'll understand soon." He suddenly leaned forward, crossing the distance she had put between them with inhuman speed. There was nothing rough about the way he touched her. He wrapped one arm around her body and another around her head and held her securely in the crook of his elbow as he whispered in her ear.

He didn't resist as she pushed him away once more. She pulled herself to her feet again and half stumbled, half sprinted from him as fast as she could.

She didn't know at the time, but he sat watching her as she disappeared around the corner, his hearts breaking for her…

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Her footfalls echoed through the empty streets. The streetlamps only provided sporadic pools of vision, rather than flooding the road with light as she expected they should. Shae didn't recognise where she was. The style of the buildings – they were shops – the street signs, the lamps; they weren't like anything near her home.

She had been at home, hadn't she? They were having a picnic. Jesse!

Her head shot back and forth as she came to a road, but her pace didn't pause as she sprinted across.

Her parents had a new puppy. They brought it to play. Jesse!

Her chest was aching; she hadn't run like this for years. She dug her fingers into the stitch in her side and tried to keep running.

They had a picnic in the backyard while Jesse played with the puppy. Jesse!

A shadow walked around the corner in front of her, but she didn't react fast enough and crashed into it.

"Oi! Watch it," a voice yelled angrily.

She stopped where she landed, her ragged breaths somewhere between heaving and sobbing.

"Are you alright, love?" the voice asked again, more gently.

"Police," Shae whispered desperately between breaths. "I need the police."

"There, love." Shae, cringed away from the stranger, but then looked in the direction he was pointing. On the corner of the next block a large blue box sat on the pavement, blocking the footpath.

"What is it?" she asked in confusion.

"It's a Police box, love," the stranger said kindly. "There's a phone on the front. Use is an' it puts you straight through to the police." He reached out a hand, offering to help her up. Poor thing, he thought. What could have happened to upset her so?

Shae stared at the offered hand for a moment, then hesitantly accepted the strangers help. He didn't have two blurry faces like the last stranger had. The man helped her to stand and then held her arm to support her weight as she slowly limped to the Police box. She hadn't even realised that she'd pulled something in her leg until she tried to walk on it again. Did she pull it when she was running, or when she fell? She tried to shake away the confusion once more, with the same success that she had previously enjoyed.

When they reached the box, her good Samaritan pulled open a small compartment and handed her a bulky phone.

"Hello? Police?" she asked down the line.

"What? Who are you?" a voice rudely replied.

"Oh my god, please," she began. "I, I think I'm lost, and I can't find my son, and there was this man, and I don't know where I am, please!" Words spilled out of her almost incoherently.

"Okay, tell me: where did you get this number?"

She shook her head again, not understanding why she would be asked that question. "I don't know. I picked up the phone. Are you the police?"

"Of course," the voice answered dismissively. "How did you get lost?"

"I don't know. I was at home. Oh my god, Jesse! I've lost Jesse!" She held her hand across her mouth, trying to hold the panic inside. She felt herself slowly sliding down against the blue box until she was almost sitting again. Her good Samaritan knelt down with her, trying to comfort her as she spoke to the policeman.

"Okay, I'm coming to find you, alright? I'll get you back home. Can you tell me where you are now?"

She looked around the street in alarm. "I don't know where I am. I don't know, but I'm at a Police box. I'm calling from a Police box."

"What?" the voice asked incredulously.

Her good Samaritan waved to her, indicating that she should give him the phone. "We're in Cardiff, near the corner of Ash Street and Morrow Avenue," he told the officer. "Hello? Hello, are you there?" He listened for a moment then held the phone away in disgust. "The line's dead. He's hung up."

Suddenly, the door of the Police box opened and a man with big ears stuck his head out. "Hello. Sorry about that. I don't often get calls from my own phone." He pulled the door closed behind him and leaned back against the panels, smiling smugly at his own joke.

He could feel that there was something wrong the instant he'd opened the door. A zing in the air; a sharp taste that didn't belong. He could see the effects of free radicals in the air, effects that humans always seemed to be oblivious to, and they seemed to be emanating from the woman before him. He instantly took in everything about her, including the recognition that flashed across the girl's face and the way she began to back away from him. Her fear was genuine. She seemed too innocent to be the cause of whatever the disturbance was, but she'd been caught up in it somehow. Humans in this time period weren't anywhere near advanced enough to affect free radicals in such a way, but then... He'd recognised the style of her clothes – early 21st century; she'd been displaced by about 50 years. But still, the technology required to displace her and affect the environment in such a way wasn't human technology, nor would it be available anywhere in the universe for another 15,000 years. He was lucky she picked up his phone rather than going to some other random police box. The police wouldn't have known what to do with her, and she would have ended up committed to an asylum, or worse…

"Are you the police?" the good Samaritan asked in disbelief. He stood and faced the newcomer, missing the woman's reaction as he did so.

"Yep. Police. That's me." In the same beat that he'd spoken in, he flashed his psychic paper first at the man and then down to the woman. The man took his identification at face value, but the woman didn't tear her eyes from his face to even look. He knelt down beside her, so as to not seem so threatening. "You really are lost, aren't you," he said sympathetically.

Despite his attempts to dispel her fear, she continued to stare at him with an expression akin to terror. "Your face," she whispered.

He felt a bit self-conscience now. He'd only worn that face for a matter of hours, and he hadn't even seen it yet. He'd checked that he had everything, eyes, ears, mouth, nose, and they were all in their rightful places, it felt like skin, rather than fur or scales, but what if the colour was off? What if his face was purple, or blue, or glowed in the dark? Was there something wrong with his face, at least from a human perspective? His eyes crossed themselves as he studied the colour of his nose. It seemed alright, if a bit bigger than he expected, but what if it was his cheeks or forehead where he couldn't see? Would he have to avoid ancient earth until he regenerated again? But ancient – well, modern to them – earth was one of his favourite time periods. All the little humans finally realising that there was a whole universe outside their little bubble. And after Gallifrey…

He felt his whole body go rigid at the thought of his home, but he cut off his reaction, his emotions, and his train of thought with vicious swiftness, it was too soon, focusing all his attention on the moment.

"What's wrong with my face?" he lamented.

She was trying to back away further, looking like she was about to try to crab crawl away from him. He didn't know what happening with this girl yet, but he'd need to find a way for her to trust him so he could get to the bottom of this mystery and to help her.

Her voice was no stronger than a breath, but he heard her clearly. "It keeps changing."

But she was small, and human. Could she really recognise that he'd just regenerated? He quickly whipped out his sonic screwdriver and scanned her from head to toe. He noticed her flinch away from him, but he was too intent on understanding this mysterious woman to concern himself about it. He looked at the results and goggled with disbelief.

"But… That can't be right…" He knew that she must have passed through the time vortex in some manner, time travel to the past was impossible without some form of exposure, especially travelling without a capsule to insulate against the raw power of the vortex, but the levels of radiation his screwdriver registered were exponentially more than a little 50 year hop should have produced. For this kind of exposure either she'd passed through an exceptionally concentrated patch of time vortex energy, or her brief hop took six to eight months for her to complete, both scenario's unlikely enough for him to call them impossible, but all his other theories were even less plausible. At least the energy was already dissipating. It would take years to reduce to a healthy level for a human, but perhaps he could speed that process up to a couple of weeks. Her cells were holding stable, and her mind didn't appear to be goo, although the exposure was too recent for her mind to have fully recovered. He'd have to monitor her recovery, and be ready to intercede if her body or mind began collapsing under the strain.

"Alright," he began gathering himself together. "Let's see if I can't get you sorted out, me." He reached out to the girl, not forcing her, but inviting her to let him help.

"No," she whispered again, her eyes still like saucers. She crept backwards a little further. He knew he had to reach her soon. As soon as she had the strength she would fight him and run. Why was she reacting so? What could she see when she looked at him that made her so afraid? Even if she had gotten a brief glimpse of his regeneration, her human instincts and primitive logic should have kicked in to tell her that her mind was playing tricks on her; that he was as safe as he was projecting to her.

"Err," the man beside him began. "You wouldn't happen to have any other police officers with you, would you?" He repressed the urge to roll his eyes. He'd almost forgotten about this extra bystander. He'd dismissed the man the moment he accepted the alias of his psychic paper. But now he seemed to be swayed by the girl's fear. He could become a problem.

"Good point." He turned to the man. "How about you go find another police box and call for some back-up? I think you'll find another that way." He pointed down the road where he wanted the man to go.

The man frowned. "Why can't we just use this phone again?" he asked, indicating the blue box looming over them.

He turned back to the frightened girl. Girl? She's an adult by human standards. Why am I thinking of her as a girl? He mentally shook himself. "Special phone, that. Goes directly to my command centre. We'll wait right here while you go call back-up for me. About a six minute walk down that hill. Even faster if you run. Off you pop." He hoped the man would take the bait.

"Why can't you call for back-up?" he asked instead.

He sighed, trying to hold his frustration in check. "Because I'm a police officer and you're a member of the general public. It would be in breach of my statutory obligations to leave a vulnerable member of society in the care of anyone less than an authorised officer of the peace." He stood up and turned on the man. "Look at her." He gestured. "She is in no fit state to be moved at the moment. Her body and mind are in shock. I can't leave her unattended in your care, nor can I take her with me to call for back-up. Therefore, the only logical option remaining is for you to call for back-up on my behalf." He deliberately restrained himself. He could feel his anger bubbling within him. The girl needed help, and this stupid little ape, as good as his intentions were, was getting in the way. He held the other man's eyes for a moment longer, projecting authority.

"Liar," he heard the girl whisper, too soft for a human ear to pick up.

The man nodded slowly, his jaw set. He turned as he had been directed and began jogging down the hill on his wild goose chase.

"Now then." He crouched down again and turned back to the girl. She had scampered even further away from him during his exchange with her good Samaritan. "I'm the Doctor. I know you're lost and hurting, but I'm going to help you. I'm going to help you find your son." He reached out to her again. "Will you let me help you?"

Shae shook her head again, trying to clear the fog within. She was sure she'd never met the man before her, but everything about him screamed familiarity. I'm the Doctor, he'd said. No! she wanted to yell. You're not real! But why did she want to say that? He was standing here before her. Why couldn't he be real? In her mind's eye, his face blurred again, but not into the first face she'd seen, but into another familiar face. His face only blurred the once, but more of his faces seemed to appear before her, too quick to count. Some of the faces felt like they were 'already', while others felt like 'not yet'. She didn't understand the distinction, but she was sure she should have understood, that she used to understand…

No! part of her mind screamed. You're not real! You can't be real!

Jesse! Another part screamed. I have to find Jesse!

He's the good guy, a voice at the back seemed to whisper. He'll help you, because he's the Doctor,as though that piece of logic explained it all…

"What's your name?" she distantly heard him asking.

Shayla, she tried to answer, but once again her words were the ones screaming in her mind rather than the words she'd intended. "Why aren't you real?" He couldn't be real. She didn't know why, but every part of her screamed that he wasn't real. Even the soft part that whispered that he would help her spoke of him like a super-hero; like he was make-believe. How could he not be real when he was crouching in front of her? How could her eyes be wrong? She'd heard him speak. She could smell his cologne. Was there something wrong with her? Was she having a nervous breakdown? Was it because she lost Jesse? Where's Jesse? What wasn't she looking for him? "Where's Jesse?" she whispered again.

His eyes clouded with something dark. Fear? Concern? Why would he be concerned? What would he be afraid of? Suddenly, he reached for her, no longer showing restraint for her personal space. "No!" she cried, but he ignored her as he pulled her to her feet.

"I'm sorry," he told her. "You've been exposed to the time vortex and you mind is failing. I can help you, but we need to act now." He began pulling her toward the TARDIS.

"No!" she yelled. "Not in there! No. Let me go, please!" She pushed against him, trying to pull her wrists from his grip. He held her gently, but his grip was like a vice, and she couldn't push him off. He let go with one of his hands and reached up to unlock to door of the TARDIS.

TARDIS. The word swam through her thoughts. That's the TARDIS. How did she know that? How could she recognise it? She'd only met the Doctor a few minutes ago, how could she recognise his TARDIS?

He hadn't wanted to force her; he'd wanted her to accept his help of her own free will. Not only would it make helping her easier, but he'd been through enough. He didn't want to hurt anyone else, even if it was for their own good. But he had to act. Her mind was beginning to fracture under the stress of the time vortex radiation that burned through her body. 'Why aren't you real?' If her mind wasn't able to properly distinguish reality, what other unobserved damage was taking place in her mind? He needed to get her to medical unit on his ship as quickly as possible.

But as he reached his key towards the lock, the city seemed to explode around them. He pressed the woman between himself and the wooden panels of his ship, protecting them as best as he could from the brunt of the blast. When the hot winds began to ease, he carefully peered back over his shoulder. His jaw dropped and his already overwhelming guilt increased.

Not even two minutes ago had he sent her good Samaritan down that road, seemingly to his death. The crater that now filled his vision replaced part of what used to be the city, although, luckily, most of the area covered was outside the city limits. The Doctor performed a rough calculation in his head. Fifty thousand people, he realised. He'd had enough of death. In fact, the only death he thought he could cope with now was his own; an escape from all the suffering the universe had thrown at him. However, it seemed his punishment was to live through more pain, rather than to escape as he needed to. Fifty thousand, he thought again. Fifty thousand and one. His guilt ate at him again. Had he sent that man to his death? If he'd run, as the Doctor had insisted, he might have been just close enough to be within fatal distance from the blast. As it was, by his calculations, he and the woman with him stood just outside its lethal circumference.

But what was it? What caused such damage? He could see that something, like a meteor, had crashed into the city, but whatever it was had just appeared before crashing; it hadn't entered through Earth's atmosphere. Not only that, the air was teeming with the same effects that he first noticed around the woman when he stepped out of the TARDIS. Is this what brought her to the past? Did she somehow get caught up in some future explosion that detonated now? Had she been lucky enough to be flung just bit further into the past than whatever caused that crater, as so escaped with her life? Her son! She said she'd lost her son. If she was dragged to this time in the explosion, who else might have been caught up in the blast? Was it too late to save her son?

He made a quick decision. He needed to help this woman that had fallen in his path, but he needed to know if there was still a danger to anyone else. There was nothing he could do for the fifty thousand people who used to live in the city before him, but that didn't mean he'd stand back and allow anymore casualties. He just had to hope her mind would hold together long enough for him to save everyone.

No more! his thoughts whispered at him. He thought he was free now. He thought ending the Time War would end the suffering. No more! But it seemed that this was his curse, to always be surrounded by death.

He moved his grip to hold the woman by her hand. "Come on." He began to move towards the crater.

"No!" Shae pulled her hand from his. "I'm not going down there!"

He turned and looked her in the eye. Shae could see concern and sympathy in his eyes, but his expression was firm. "I'm sorry," he said. 'I'm sorry,' the first man's whisper echoed in her mind. "I don't know what's caused this yet, but this is the blast you got caught in. We need to go find out what happened." Pain seemed to briefly flicker across his features. "We need to make sure Jesse isn't down there."

Jesse! Her thought's screamed again. Yes, he was right. If this is what happened to her, and Jesse had been with her… But what had happened? There had been no explosion, had there? She went inside to get Jesse a bandaid, then… it was like her whole body burned… Maybe there had been an explosion. "Jesse!" she whispered ferociously. She would protect her Jesse, even if it meant following this multi-faced man into a burning inferno. He reached out to her again, and she took his hand.

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I'll warn you all now, I'm a slow updater. In some way's I think you should just wait to read this until that little 'complete' logo is in the top corner. But if you are willing to brave my story and risk the inevitable delays between chapters, then please review.