Warnings: Dark!Fic, Mild Horror, Character Study, AU
A/N: Written for who_contest's Prompt:Block comprised of my usual overly thinky (dark) ramblings. This fiction was (once more) just a vague, hazy idea that refused to solidify until I started writing it. The 'under 500' was hard (well, harder than usual, which is saying something), as Eleventy wanted to get expansive - but (alas) there was no room to do so. The restraint is killing us both, but hopefully we managed. As ever, I leave that decision up to youse guise. Mostly unbeta'd and written in one go, so please forgive any mistakes and/or blatant vagueness. As always, I apologize for any repetition, misspellings, sentence fails, grammatical oh-noes and general horridness. Unbeta'd fic is overly-thinky/blithery and unbeta'd.
Disclaimer(s): I do not own the scrumptious Doctor or his lovely companions. That honor goes to the BBC and (for now) the fantastic S. Moffat. The only thing that belongs to me is this fiction - and I am making no profit. Only playing about!

It was supposed to be just one more block away; the lighting was poor, the metal grating beneath his feet precarious – and he had to be quiet as he raced through the twists and turns on the derelict pirate vessel, prize clutched firmly in his hand. So all was going according to plan (small bump on the head not-withstanding), and if Sexy stayed where he had left Her, he would be home free in a manner of seconds.

He couldn't think of a reason the HADS would activate, but with what he had in his hand and where he was currently at, it would be more than a little inconvenient. Deadly came to mind. Meaty word. Not a word he wanted to get to well acquainted with at this juncture; after all he was almost out of lives. Well, he was out of lives, really. Best not to let anyone else know that though.

The only rub (besides the fact he hadn't seen the Old Girl yet), was that he was sure someone had been with him. In fact, he would have bet his last life on it. As it was, that was kind of the problem.

He was betting his last life on it.

He skidded to a stop, turning the corner with only a tiny flail of his arms (okay, a big flail, but there was no one there to dispute him), and ruminated for .056 seconds on the fact that the someone who should have been there to dispute him was not.

And neither was his TARDIS.

He blinked as his vision doubled for a moment, hearts pounding too hard in his chest, but only half of that was from exertion. The other half was the lack of a Companion and the distinct absence of his TARDIS. He couldn't even feel Her –

The throb in his head increased and he could feel his knees meet the floor, slightly dismayed as he swiped at his eyes only to come away with bright maroon smeared along his hand. He didn't remember getting hurt that badly. He and Amy? Jack? Rory? River? They had escaped. It was just a small knock to his head. Nothing to be concerned with.

He was still staring where his TARDIS was supposed to be when someone approached him from behind. He heard the blow more than he felt it, collapsing on the floor as the shuffle of feet around him told him he had lost. His last thought was on –

" – the Cube", Commander Nemtiel said coldly. "Renegades such as him are no better than the enemy. Since he refuses to help us, he will remain prisoner here until we have defeated the Daleks. Lock it down and get to back to the Sky-Trenches. We'll deal with the Doctor when they have been subdued…we've a Time War to win."