He felt so… warm. His veins did not feel as if they were on fire, as they had seconds before… or has it been seconds? He felt heavy, his limbs weighing so much more than he could possibly lift. His eyelids were also too much for him to handle, so he focused on the warmth again. What was it coming from? He felt movement. He could feel himself moving… but… he wasn't moving himself… than, who was moving him? He concentrated, feeling pressure in the places where he was warm. His thoughts became blank for a moment… or, how long has it been? The warmth was gone, and it was cold once more. He wanted to shiver, his body no longer burning into oblivion, and he yearned for that warmth to come back. He could feel something else… pressure on his head. His head was warm… but not from the fever. It was the pressure… the soft touch of… something, or someone. He needed to see who it was. Who was touching him… who was there? He forced his eyes to open, barely a slit, but enough to make out a face above him. He opened his eyes wider and saw the eyes. He stared into them, unable to control his vision to see them clearly. It was not a friend. Those eyes did not belong to a friend. He did not know where he was, but he knew he was not safe. His eyes shut suddenly, against his own will, and the darkness consumed him once more. He awoke again, his wrists and ankles sore, and his body so cold. He did not know how long he had been lying there… wherever he was. It felt like seconds… but it could have been days. Days… days that he was without his friends, days that he had left them. So much time… he had so much, yet so little. He shivered, then forced open his eyes. His vision came into focus this time, and he could see a gray ceiling. A dark purple light illuminated the ceiling, casting long shadows of… something… across its blank surface. The doctor turned his head ever so slightly, but pain blasted through his skull mercilessly and he quickly brought it back to its original position facing the ceiling. He stayed that way for a minute, his thoughts coming to him slower than he wanted them to, when he began to hear a noise… a beeping… in the background. He focused on that, no longer able to hold onto any thoughts, and listened, counting the beats. He counted two slow, steady beats, repeating over and over, endlessly. His first thought was human heartbeat, but as he listened, he heard a strange pause in between the beats, as if something was supposed to be there, like something was absent. He listened to those beats for what seemed like hours, but he knew it had only been a few minutes. His thoughts returned to him and he tried to concentrate, but his mind became weary. He could feel himself slipping once more, but fought against the feeling, not wanting to let himself go back into the endless darkness that was his mind once more.

Voices. He heard voices. He could hear two voices speaking, coming closer. He shut his eyes as he saw two more shadows appear on the ceiling above him, and tried to make out the voices. His ears felt waterlogged as he listened to the voices, the words sounding as if they were coming through a wall, even though he knew they were only a few feet from him.

" ... Yes, he is Time Lord… would be perfect for the… vital signs are improving… brain activity suggests he is awake, yet he sleeps… " The doctor could only make out some of the conversation, his mind slipping closer to the darkness. He listened, then became surprised when he noticed the room had become silent, then nearly jumped when he felt a warm hand on his forehead. He wanted to open his eyes, to see what it was that had captured him, but knew better than that. Better to play dead for now, seeing that he will be that in a few seconds anyhow. He felt the warmth switch to his cheek as the darkness finally took control of his mind once more.

He dreamt this time. He dreamt that he had escaped and was in his TARDIS, safe with his two friends. They were laughing and having such fun, eating ice-cream, his favorite treat. They were all smiling, so happy, so peaceful; nothing could ruin this moment. His friends smiled at him, then turned around and began to walk to the door of the TARDIS. His smile faltered for a moment, curiosity creeping into his mind. He lifted himself from the chair he was in and began to walk over to the door as well. As he came closer, his friends opened the door. He stopped for a moment, then began to walk faster. He had walked halfway across the room, and was nowhere near the door, although his friends had been able to reach it in only a few strides. Why could he not walk faster? He began to jog, then run, as his friends turned around and looked at him, smiles spread across their faces, yet their eyes so melancholy, so full of hurt and regret. Then they turned back around and leaned out the open door. He reached out his hand, knowing what they were going to do, needing to get to them faster. He watched, from far away, as his friends jumped out of the TARDIS. The doctor yelled, running as fast as he could, yet never reaching the door. The yelling then became louder, more distinct. He could feel hot tears streaking down his face, rolling past his heated cheeks and onto his cold ears. He heard the yelling, but could not understand where its source was from. He began to struggle, fear for his friends and confusion clouding his mind. As he struggled, his voice cracked and the yelling stopped. His mouth stayed open as the doctor finally found the source of the yelling, his throat dry and hoarse. He opened his eyes, and light poured through. It was painful, the light, but he stared into it nonetheless, until it was suddenly pulled away. He shut his eyes again, the pain too much for his foggy mind to comprehend. The tears had stopped, but his cheeks remained wet as a hand, the same one as before, touched them and wiped them away.

" They call these tears. What the Time Lord was having is called a nightmare. "

" He will be a very interesting specimen to examine. "

The doctor opened his eyes, chancing the pain, and saw two faces leaning over him. They looked human, the doctor noted, then looked into one of their eyes. They were dark blue with white pupils. What species were they? The doctor watched them as they spoke back and forth, speaking only of the doctors medical condition. From what he caught of the conversation, he was still recovering from the poison, but was healed for the most part. The doctor slowed his breathing, which he had realized had quickened while listening to the two speak. He was waiting for them to say something… to even mention them, so he would know they were alright, but his hopes were lost as the two walked away, out of the room, and became inaudible in the distance. He would never see them again, would he? Dread clogged his mind from other emotions being able to enter and the tears began again. He had let them down, again. He always did this, to every one of his guests. He could never get it right, and he never would, would he?

The doctor sat in silence for a few minutes, his eyes becoming heavy once more, determination and sheer will being the only things keeping him awake. He had to escape. He must! He had no choice! He began to pull on his ankles and wrists, knowing that he was strapped down, but how tight? He leaned his head over to look at the restraints, flinching, expecting the pain from before, but found his head was alright now, and studied what was keeping him to the… what was he on? The doctor rubbed his cheek against the gray surface he was on, and determined it to be a metal, easily found in asteroids in the Kuiper Belt, Milky Way Galaxy. It was soft, but conducted no heat, which was bad for the doctor, for he also realized that he was not wearing any clothing. He blushed, only for a moment, embarrassment the last emotion he wanted on his mind right now. He studied his restraints again, and saw that he was not being held down by any advanced technology. It was simple leather straps keeping him to the metal bed and nothing more. He could escape from that. He began to wriggle his wrists and ankles back and forth, but could barely get any movement out of them, the restraints very tight against his skin. He stopped struggling against them for a moment, thinking of how he could escape them. He tested his strength, to see if he could simply pull up and become free, but his limbs felt heavy, like before, and he knew it was not the straps making him feel heavy. He was not yet recovered from the poison, apparently. But, how long has it been since he was brought here? Why had he not simply gone into a comatose state and heal that way? He did know that the healing process was usually self-induced, but in times of emergency, he should have shut down, but he hadn't. He kept waking, unhealed, unknowing of how much time had passed. It might have only have been a couple of hours. Perhaps this is a new poison from the era. He did not even know what century he was in! This was not his day… or week. Too many unanswered questions swam in his mind as he tried to explain his current situation. His mind, although it could do so much, was of no help to him at the moment, and he was drifting back to sleep again. This must have been the most he had slept in his whole life, he thought, then was gone once more to the silence.