A/N: Okay, I forgot the disclaimer before. I don't own it, and if you think I'm RTD, or even Steven Moffat sitting here secretly writing fan fiction because I got bored of writing the real series, then I think you're mad.

'Streetlife' it is! Geez, I took some convincing…(I admit, I changed the name at the last minute and forgot to change the A/N). Thankyou so much to everyone who reviewed, every one of those comments made my night, and the fact that you're thinking about what is coming next is one of the greatest compliments you could give. Now I just have to live up to your expectations and find those answers, cos they've changed slightly since I came up with the idea… Also, there's a one-line reference to the Torchwood episode Adam here, cos I was watching it just before writing that bit and it sprung to mind. It's fairly obvious, I think, if you've seen the episode.

Allons-y tout le monde!

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Chapter 2.

When the Doctor next woke, it was well and truly light as the early sunshine came rushing through the broken and grimy glass windows. He struggled awake against the pain now coursing through his leg and up into his chest, failing to suppress a groan.

Lisa was on him in seconds, pushing his sweat coated hair from his forehead and muttering soothingly.

"S'all right, love, just stay with me. Come on, that's it, I want to see those eyes open for a bit."

He blinked his eyes open for a few seconds, managing only a quick "hi" before they slipped closed again.

"Stupid question, but how're you feeling?" Lisa asked quietly.

"Oh, you know...ticketyboo."

There was a slight pause as she gave a sudden chuckle and he considered what he'd just said.

"Oh, I really am sick. Ticketyboo?"

"Yeah, maybe not. Jake?" At her call the young man from last night hurried over.

"How're you feeling?" he asked, pushing a hand onto the Doctor's forehead as he knelt down.

"Ticketyboo, apparently," Lisa answered.

"Headache, nausea, any pins and needles?" Jake asked, ignoring Lisa.

"Bit of headache, but I expected that. It'd arrived before I got here."

"You'd made a mess of your leg before you got here too, doesn't mean I can ignore it," Jake answered. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Um, three I think."

"I think?" Jake questioned, his eyebrows raised.

"Three. Definitely."

"Okay, what day is it?"

"Come on Jake, even I don't know that," Lisa rebuked.

"Month then."

"Ah… it's kinda cold. I'd say November, Decemberish?"

"Year?" Jake asked, becoming slightly more concerned for his patient's health with each question he asked.

"Uhh…" there was a pause as the Doctor took in any details of his surroundings that would give him a clue. "Sorry, no idea. What year is it?"

"2006, love. December. It's Christmas next week." Lisa answered, a sad smile on her face like she was remembering better times.

"Right. He needs a hospital. Now," Jake muttered. His hands swiftly began to move through the Doctor's hair and over his scalp, now checking for any raised bumps that would indicate a concussion to explain the confused answers.

"No. I'm not going," the Doctor insisted, suddenly tensing up once more and pushing himself away from them as far as he could. "I've already told you, I can't. You force me there and I'll end up a lot worse than I am now."

"I know you're afraid, love," Lisa soothed, "but whatever happened there before that scares you won't happen this time. I'll be there and I won't let it, I promise. I'll look after you."

"Don't make promises you can't keep."

"You still need to go," muttered Jake, before finally looking the Doctor in the eye. What the Doctor saw made him visibly flinch.

The anger was once more at the surface, swimming around in the blackness. Not swimming even. Drowning. This man had gone through something terrible to make him like this, and the fact that the Doctor knew he could do very little to help hurt more than the pain in his leg ever could.

"Look," he muttered eventually, tearing his eyes away from such consuming rage. "Just give me that mirror and string and I can fix it myself."

Silence fell as both Lisa and Jake tried to figure out whether to accept his pleas or not.

"Please?"

******

Twenty minutes later, the Doctor twisted round so he could see better in the light shining in rivulets through the windows, highlighting the dust in the air. He held the needle and string in his hand, trying to find the courage to sew his own leg together with packing string that's only form of sanitation had been five minutes in vaguely warm water. It was one thing saying he could do it; it was another to physically piece together the layers of his own skin and sew them up without passing out.

Taking a steadying breath, he placed the shard of mirror on the floor beneath his left leg and stuck the small sewing needle through his skin, hissing as he did so. Slowly, slowly, he pulled tight, blood snail-trailing along his hand and down his forearm as he worked, as well as down the length of his leg and dripping onto the storehouse floor. He worked slowly, mopping up his own blood with his sleeve as he went so he could see, the pain only increasing after the first stitch.

In a way, the pain was his penance for losing Rose. With each stitch he made to his own leg, he felt the agony he had caused by abandoning her raising a notch. His attempts to flee those creatures had still failed to rid him of the pain they brought. Even now, he could not escape. Far from it.

The ache lingered still as he thought of Rose, still stuck in that horror. He had managed to escape from the space station, fear tearing him apart, as bullets rushed past and screams echoed around him.

Leaving Rose there. Alone.

He'd let go of her hand. And it was that more than anything that filled him with shame, with pain and loss. It was more than he could forgive.

Digging the needle hard once more into his own flesh, he barely felt the lone tear that silently ran over his cheek and fell off his chin onto his lap.

*******

"So, what's your name then?" Jake asked as he watched the Doctor finish the neat line of yellow stitches up his leg. He quietly ignored the tear tracks down the other man's face.

The man himself didn't look up at him, but his face was suddenly defensive. "I told you. The Doctor."

"That's a title, not a name."

"Well it'll have to do, cos it's all I've got." He was really not in the mood for an argument. Especially this one.

"What, you have no name? Everyone's got a name. Even the stray dog down the park has a name, the poor mongrel. 'Spot' we call her, cos she looks a bit like the one off the tv show. Yellow with brown."

Silence.

"But not you."

The Doctor shifted uncomfortably under Jake's gaze. There was something about the anger this guy held that scared him. It was almost as if he wanted a fight. Craved the violence it would bring.

"Is it some great secret or something? Cos it's got to be something big to hide it from everyone around you doesn't it? Something private, no? Because the thing is, Doctor, if we don't even know your name, then how can we trust you? Hmm? What can a man be hiding so secretively that his very name is a clue?"

"Leave it Jake, you're not helping. Let him be." Lisa had her eyes shut, and until this moment had at least been pretending to be sound asleep. In fact, she had been listening to the one sided conversation very carefully indeed. It had definitely touched a nerve, despite how hard the Doctor had tried to hide it. He looked if he just wanted to run far away, the question too much for him at the moment, and she couldn't allow that to happen while his leg was in its current state. As much as she wanted to know about this strange man, she couldn't let the conversation continue.

*******

A/N: Did you get the reference? Enjoy it? If so, review and tell me, cos reviews are love. And really, what's the point of life without love?