A/N: Heh heh heh. Did you like that last chapter, all? I feel evil sometimes. I've seen some theories... any others? I like to know what people are thinking! I see several people have followed either myself or the story... I'd love to hear what you folks are thinking as well!

Quinn just stood there next to the console, staring at him, this man on the floor the TARDIS. Some guy, that's who this was. Not the Doctor, not her Doctor. She'd had an inkling that something like this could happen. He'd shown her all his faces the first night they talked - really talked anyway. But then here it was, it had happened, there was someone else in front of her, some stranger, who said he knew her. She didn't know what to say, her mind was running in circles, barely able to comprehend what was going on around her. She leaned heavily against one of the coral support beams for support, feeling almost sure that if she didn't, her knees were going to give out and she'd crash to the floor.

He can't be but he is but he's not but he must be but he can't be but he is but he's not but he must be but he can't be but he is but he's not but he must be but he can't...

She took a deep breath trying to force herself to calm down but only managing to start to shudder. Finally, with great force of will she stammered out, "D-Doctor?"

His breath was also hurried and ragged. He forced himself into a kneeling position, then dragged himself up by the railing next to him. Putting one tentative foot in front of the other, he made his way to the console and stared at it at a loss for words for a moment, before he hunched over and twisted a glowing crystalline ball. "Holding pattern, better. I need more time..."

"Time for what?" she asked as he staggered again, seeming to lose his balance.

He turned around to face her and she could see he'd broken out in a heavy sweat, his whole body shaking as he struggled to remain upright. "I... can't... I need to..." His eyes darted around the TARDIS nervously, as if they couldn't stay still no matter what. Then he fixed her with a wide-eyed stare and whimpered out, "Help me!" And with that, he finally collapsed entirely, unconscious.

She was still unsure of herself, and him, but it must have been an automatic reaction (or worse, the terrifying thought reared its head for a split second, maternal instinct) because as soon as he went down, she was on her knees by his side checking for his breath. She felt his wrist for a pulse and was relieved to find one, a double rhythm pulsing under her fingers, bup bup bup bup, bup bup bup bup. Something felt wrong, though...

She realized what it was right away. His skin was warm - warmer than she'd ever felt it. He didn't feel feverish by human standards, but every time she'd ever held his hand or brushed his cheek before, he'd felt startlingly cool to the touch. By comparison, he was burning up. She sighed, looking at his prone form. She couldn't just leave him here.

It was an arduous process, a lot more difficult than she'd ever admit, to get him dragged back into one of the rooms. She didn't know which one was his, he'd never said, so she was forced to pick one at random and put him in there. He was certainly lanky enough - well, he had been, now he seemed a little thicker about the chest - but he was certainly heavy, and trying to lift all his dead weight would have been difficult even if she wasn't awkwardly carrying around several extra pounds, but she finally managed to get him onto his back and loop her arms around under his shoulders. That way she could lift a bit and drag him along, letting his trainers slide across the floor. They seemed to be threatening to pop off at any moment... it was like they didn't fit as well as they once had. Thankfully, she finally got where she was going.

The door behind her opened on its own, fortunately enough, and with a great effort she hurled him up so that he was sitting on the edge of the bed, then awkwardly laid him down on his back. From here it was easy, swinging his legs up onto the bed. She removed his sneakers - it seemed the right thing to do, rather than leave them on the bed to scuff it up. They were covered in a copper-tinged ruddy dust still, probably from the surface of the planet he'd stepped out onto.

Hey lay there in an awkward crumpled mess, arms bent at an awkward angle, looking like he'd just been in an accident of some kind the way he was all knotted up. She made an effort to get him to a point where he was at least lying comfortably, arms at his sides and not crossed over his chest because he looked too much like he'd been prepared for burial if she did that. She kept checking him over to be sure he was still breathing, always reassured that he was. After a few minutes she went into the adjoining bathroom and got a cloth wet with cold water, which she placed on his forehead because, wasn't that what you were supposed to do for a feverish person? Really any sort of trauma called for a cool cloth to the forehead, she thought, if movies were anything to go by.

She hated feeling so helpless as she watched his unconscious breathing. Was this normal? She had no idea if it was, no way to tell if this was supposed to be happening or if something terrible was going on. He could be dying right now and she'd never know it, never be able to help him or find anyone who could... and while she didn't want to be selfish while he lay there possibly dying, the thought of spending the rest of her natural life trapped aboard the TARDIS without a soul to talk to wasnt exactly a concept she looked forward to either. They hadn't landed back at the theater like she thought they might have. The Doctor... the Stranger who was the Doctor... had said something about a holding pattern. What if this was it, for the rest of her life, and her daughter's?

She refused to wring her hands in worry. She needed to be active, to be doing something to help him or herself. Hand wringing accomplished nothing, helped nobody, was just worrying for worrying's sake. It was all her mother had done while her father had thrown her out of her home, and she would not let that become her reaction to anything.

He was still lying flat on his back, unconscious, but it seemed like his breathing was slowing. Again, was this good or bad? She took his still-warm hand and held it against her cheek. "Doctor... Doctor it's me. It's Quinn Fabray. I need..." she stifled a sob, trying to be strong for him if somehow, by some miracle, he could hear her in his present state. "I need you to wake up," she said, sniffling. "I need you to wake up and be okay and alive. Doctor, I need you, and I told you not to go out there alone... please. You have to be alright, you have to. We need you. Please." He didn't respond in any way, just lay there unmoving, oblivious to everything. "Please, Lord," she prayed, closing her eyes as she clasped his hand in both of hers. "My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth. He will not let your foot slip— he who watches over you will not slumber. The sun will not harm you by day, nor the moon by night. The Lord will keep you from all harm — he will watch over your life; the Lord will watch over your coming and going both now and forevermore." It was a verse she'd been made to memorize years ago. At the time it had never seemed important to memorize anything she could just look up, but she was so grateful now. "Please, God, help him..."

"Ooh," he groaned.

"What?" She looked at him, hopefully. He was starting to stir, ever so slightly.

"Ooooooh," he replied again, louder than a moment before.

"Doctor, are you awake?"

He took a few deep breaths, then propped himself up his elbows. "Mmm." He blinked slowly like he was trying to clear the fog in his mind. "Hi," he finally said, forcing his eyes to focus on her, and looking her over with - what was that look? It seemed almost like... apprehension. Fear, even. "Could I have my... uh..."

He glanced down at his right hand, which she realized she was still clutching, and she let go of it like it was a hot potato. He just kept on looking at her so she mustered up her courage and asked, "Doctor? Is that... is that really you?"

"It's me," he said. "It really is me."

"What happened?"

"I told you, I regenerated."

"No, I mean... out there, on the planet, what happened to you?"

"It was a trap," he said. "Just like you said it was, I should have listened to you." He flashed her a weak smile. "The whole planet's flooded with Chalarial Ephedrazine. It's absolutely lethal to Time Lord physiology. I was making my way towards a structure of some kind and I would have collapsed out there in the desert if I hadn't turned back for something."

"What'd you come back for?"

"You," he said. "I decided I wanted you along with me, whatever it was out there, and as it happened I was just a few steps away from the TARDIS when I started to feel the effects." She couldn't suppress the hint of a smile that crossed her features at that - he'd come back for her, he wanted her with him, whatever it was he had to face, and it had saved his life... but the reality of the situation soon squashed that feeling.

"So who did it?"

"I don't know," he said. "One of my enemies, probably. I've got a couple, you know."

"This seems like a really complicated way to kill someone," she said.

"Yes, but people have tried before, and it doesn't seem to stick," he said, giving her a wink.

"So what now? Do we track down whoever's responsible?"

"Nah," he said, slipping his shoes back on. "Whoever it is will probably find us, I expect, and they'll certainly be surprised when they do."

"So that's it? You come, get poisoned, and just leave?"

"Well I'm certainly not going back out there!" he said, his voice suddenly raised. "Sorry, sorry," he said when he saw her recoil at his temper. "Look, I'm a bit unstable at the moment. Give me a few hours, I'll be fine."

"You better be," she said. "This is kind of weird for me but..." She took a deep breath to compose herself, then reached out and clasped him in a tight hug. "I'm just glad I still have you," she said. He seemed unsure how to react but a few seconds later he returned her embrace.

"It's alright, I'm fine now," he said, then gently pulled away so he could stand up. "Now come on," he said, "let's go see what we're dealing with."

She thought he might have gone to the console room to release whatever holding pattern he'd put the TARDIS in, but he zigged when she expected he might have zagged and made his way to the wardrobe instead. "What do you think?" He asked. "A new look for the new look?" He took off the pinstriped jacket, tossing it to her, and kicked off the shoes right away, stopping to look himself over in the mirror. "Not bad at all if I do say so myself," he said, looking at his face from all angles. "Not as chiseled as I might have liked but I'll take it."

"And red hair," she said. "Congratulations."

"What for?"

"You told me, when you told me about re... what your people could do. You said you always wanted to be ginger."

"Did I? Yes, I suppose I did," he said, taking a moment to examine his hair. "Sorry. The old memories are all jumbled up. Now, about those clothes." He was like a cyclone tearing around the room, grabbing assorted clothing items and tossing them into a huge pile at the center of the room, sometimes leaning over the railing two levels up to drop another blazer onto the huge, crumpled pile. It was almost as tall as she was by the time he got back down to it.

"What do we do now?"

"Oh, shirt, shoes, trousers, whole nine yards."

"No I mean... the two of us. What now?"

"Well, what kind of question is that? Same as always," he said. "Places to go, things to see."

"So we just go on like nothing ever happened?"

"Pretty much," he said. "You and me, we're a team, aren't we?"

"Yeah..." It wasn't that she didn't want to stay, or that she wanted anything to change, it was just... it was like he wasn't even acknowledging what had happened. She wished there was someone else she could talk to about all this, someone who might know what she was thinking and feeling but there wasn't anyone. It was just her and him, and there wasn't anything she could do about it.

"Excellent!" he said. He reached into the pile and pulled something out, seemingly at random. A black suit, dark brown pants, and a striped tie completed the ensemble. "Unbelievable. They're still here."

"What's that?"

"Hm? Oh, I was just saying... I think these will do nicely, don't you?" He started to unbuckle his trousers and pull them off.

"Doctor!" she shrieked, turning her face away.

"Oh, alright alright," he said, gathering everything up and making his way behind a screen. "It's not as if its anything you haven't seen before."

"Of course I haven't!"

"Really?" he asked sarcastically, peeking around the side of the screen and glancing pointedly at her pregnant belly.

"Well, I mean, obviously then but... not you. And especially not new you."

"Got me there," he said. "Now, what do you think?" He stepped out from behind the screen again, wearing the suit now.

"It's good," she said. "Very handsome."

"Good, good. It was intended that way. Now, come on, we've got places to be."

He made his way back to the console room with Quinn following close behind, still clutching the pinstriped suit, and stood in front of the console, sizing it up before he touched anything. "It's amazing, isn't it, how things change? But then the more things change, the more they stay... the... same!" he said, punctuating each word with a button press and then holding onto the back railing as the ship shook and lurched. Quinn swallowed hard against a wave of nausea as the ship sped along down the vortex, not only pitching like it ways did but also vibrating, like it was threatening to come loose at the seams and disintegrate. "No, no, come on," he said, trying frantically to get control.

"Are you sure you're alright to drive?" she asked, wondering his his brain was all there.

"I'm fine, it's this TARDIS!" he yelled, smashing at controls. "It's not doing what it's told!"

The vibrating grew worse and worse still, and for the first time Quinn actually thought she might die before she reached a planet of unspeakable horror, this time just having some driving accident, when the whole capsule came to an abrupt stop, everything growing quiet.

"Finally we've arrived," he said, making his way to the doors and flinging them open. They were in some sort of round room, all enclosed in heavy metal. A door just outside the TARDIS threshold offered a viewport into another corridor, also metal.

"Arrived where?" Quinn asked stepping out after him.

"No, wait, this isn't right," he said. "This isn't where I told you to go! You stupid machine!"

He turned to storm back into the TARDIS but the Police Box doors slammed shut in his face. Quinn turned around in surprise and tried the door; it wouldn't budge. "It's stuck!" she said, fishing the key out from the chain around her neck. She was just about to stick it in the lock when a noise made her freeze up completely.

"What is that?" the Doctor asked.

"You're the one who's supposed to be able to tell me," she said. There was a little hiss and a valve in the top of the room opened up. A moment later, cold water started to pour in through the hole, immediately causing a puddle to form on the floor next to them.

"No, no, no, this isn't good," the Doctor said, shoving against the Police Box doors with his shoulders, trying to force them open. "Come on you worthless thing, open up!" The water was rising rapidly, it was up to their ankles already. Quinn had the key in the lock and was turning it back and forth to no avail.

"Come on, come on," the Doctor yelled, "we're going to drown! Get it open!"

"I'm trying," she said. "It's no good!"

He tried shoving the door open a few more times, then turned to the other door instead, the one leading out into the hallway. There was a large lever attached to a locking bolt on the door but it didn't seem to be budging either, as the water rose up to their knees. "This way's no good either, it's locked!" he said.

"Well unlock it, then!"

"I'm trying!" he said.

"Use the sonic then!"

"Do what?"

She made an annoyed growl at the back of her throat as she unfolded the jacket she was still carrying, reaching into the inside pocket. "The sonic screwdriver," she said, thrusting the device at him and going back to work on the TARDIS lock. A rivulet of the water trickled down her hair and into her mouth and she spat it out. Salty, she thought. "The ocean..." she muttered, but he didn't seem to hear her.

He pointed the sonic at the lock and pressed the button, rewarded with a satisfying clunk as the door finally unlocked. He shoved at it with all his might and it opened a crack for just a moment, then started pushing back, an automated servo pushing against him to keep the door closed.

"It's no good, I can't budge it on my own," he said. "Help me!"

The water was waist high now, and they shoved with all their might. Soon they'd start to float, and then there'd be no way to get enough traction. "Together," she said, "on the count of three. One, two, three!"

The two of them pushed with all their might, and once they had the door opened enough they both tumbled through onto the cold metal deck plating as the door slammed itself shut behind them, almost taking Quinn's foot off in the process. A lot of the water cascaded out after them, drenching them both in the cold wetness. Coughing and sputtering, Quinn stood up and peered through the tiny viewport; already the water was rising again, and the TARDIS was almost completely submerged. In another few seconds, it would be completely under water.

"Now what?" she asked, leaning her head against the glass and peering in at it. After a moment the adrenaline started to wear off, and she shrugged the old pinstriped jacket onto her shoulders. It was drenched too but at least it'd help trap some body heat. The Doctor was sitting on the ground, knees up in the air and head bowed dejectedly. She felt a flash of anger as she watched him, just sitting there, having a pity party. "Sonic screwdriver!" she said. "It opens doors. How basic is that?"

"I'm sorry!" he said, and it wasn't at all like she'd heard him say it a dozen times before. There was no sorrow, no remorse behind the statement. It was almost sarcastic, like he meant to absolve himself somehow rather than own up to nearly getting them drowned. "My whole head's a scrambled mess. I can't think straight. I just need..."

"You need to pull yourself together!" she said. "Why'd you bring us here anyway?"

"This isn't where we were supposed to end up," he said. "The TARDIS has a mind of its own sometimes."

"Tell me about it. So where are we?" He didn't move or meet her gaze, just kept sitting there with his chin tucked to his chest. "Let me guess. You don't know." No response. "Great," she said, turning away from him.

She was pacing up and down the corridor, not stopping to sit or even stand still, stamping her feet and rubbing her arms. "Must you do that?" he asked after a minute of her perpetual motion.

"I need to keep warm," she said. "For the baby. I'm soaked through."

His expression finally softened, and he stood up next to her, taking her into a quick embrace to try to keep her warmer. "You'll be alright."

"I'd better be," she said. He wasn't helping all that much. Whether it was from the water or just because he was finally recovering from his trauma a few hours before, he was cold now. It wasn't helping that it was so drafty in this corridor. "Come on, we'll get hypothermia. Let's find someplace to dry ourselv-"

They stopped dead in their tracks when they heard the noise, a clomping sound coming down the corridor towards them. There wasn't anywhere to go and hide, they were at a completely dead end. The sounds of the footsteps echoed all around, so it was almost impossible to tell where they were coming from but suddenly they became clearer and a figure rounded a corner, standing at the end of their little hallway.

"Hollins reporting in, captain," the man - older, a bit gruff and scraggly around the edges - said into a radio clipped to his shoulder. "We'll have the tank sorted out in a jiffy." He dropped a well-worn toolbag onto the deck plating and then, finally, looked up, to find the two of them standing there, still holding onto one another and sopping wet. "Hello, what's this?" he said, astonished to find them. "You're not meant to be here..."