The alleyway was silent. Boxes and papers littered the ground. A rat scuttered somewhere nearby. The ground was illuminated by pale streetlamp light as the sun had set hours ago.

A harsh whurring sound filled the lonely alleyway. A gentle breeze kicked up. A white light appeared about eight feet in the air, blinking in and out of existence. A moment later, a large blue box joined it. It fazed in and out of existence for a moment, before finally solidifying with a sull thud.

The door opened and a strange looking man, with a mop of curly brown hair on his head, and a rediculesly long scarf wrapped around his neck, stepped out. He took a deep breath.

"Ah, the air of Hollywood in the early twentieth century!" He bellowed. He stuck a finger in his mouth and tested the air. "I'd say about the year 1917. Not quite the roaring twenties, though just as good. Isn't it splended, Sarah? We're just in time to catch the US entering the first World War, though I suppose that's a fair distance from here. What do you say we go try a theatre for the latest Charlie Chaplin or Fatty Arbuckle film, or perhaps catch a game of baseball, hmm? The Americans are bound to have something interesting."

A young woman emerged from the box, careful to close the door behind herself. "Why not?" She smiled.

The man offered her his arm, and they walked down the alleyway. They got only a few steps before Sarah's eyes fell on a pair of limp legs sticking out from behind a pile of crates. She gasped and stopped. "Doctor..."

The Doctor looked at her for a moment and then followed her eyes.

Carefully, He stepped forward, and peered at the limp shape. Sarah followed, carefully. She had only enough time to register that it was a disheveled young man before the Doctor quickly moved to his side. For a brief moment she wondered why, and then she saw the blood soaked fabric peaking out from the young man's suit coat. The young man was hardly breathing.

"He's been shot." the Doctor diagnosed. " He's bleeding out. Its a miracle he's still alive." The Doctor paused a moment, glancing at the head of the alleyway, at the silent streets. "No one around. No help." He muttered. He hefted the young man up and carried him toward the TARDIS.

"What are you doing?" Sarah asked, still trying to prosses what was going on.

The Doctor spoke quickly. "With this ages medicine, and considering that the nearest hospital is miles away and he'd die well before we got there, I'd think the Tardis is the best option. Besides, he's not supposed to die yet." He paused in front of the TARDIS door. "Quick, Sarah, I've got no hands! Get the key out of my left pocket!"

Sarah fished the key out of the Doctor's pocket, and opened the door.

The Doctor led her through the consol room and into the Tardis corridors, to a particular door. On the other side was the Medical bay.

The Doctor quickly laid the young man down on one of the beds, and began working quickly with the gadgets and things around the room.

Feeling useless, Sarah sat on one of the other beds.

-DWDWDW-

"He's started the healing process." The Doctor said, after what seemed like eternity. "He should be patched up soon." He straightened up, and rubbed a hand on hia chin.

"Doctor," Sarah asked, "Earlier, when you said he wasn't supposed to die yet, what did you mean? Who is he?"

"Why Sarah, don't you recognize him? That's Buster Keaton!"

Sarah stared. "Who?"

The Doctor frowned. "Come, Sarah! He was one of the most famous human comedians and stuntmen in history! Though I suppose he won't be very widely known for a decade or so more after your time. He fell out of fashion when talking films came in, and only recently, in your time, was rediscovered."

Sarah stared a moment. "Oh. But Doctor, what did you mean when you said he can't die yet?"

"In your history, he won't die until the second half of the 1960's, a good while later. Nearly forty more years. If he were to die, at this point, before his most influential points in his timestream, it would destroy the world as you know it. Who knows what nasty changes there could be? Not to mention all sorts of temporal anomalies and time distortions."

Sarah glanced at the young man, a new appreciation for him.

"Now all I've got to figure out is who shot him, and why... You stay here and look after him, there's a good girl. I'm going back outside to look for clues." In a moment, he was gone.

Sarah looked at the young man's face. His jaw was angular, and his features prominent. His nose was large, but not horribly large. His hair was dark brown, almost black. She could tell he wouldn't quite be as tall as her if he stood.

He gasped, suddenly, but his eyes didnt open. "...Charlie..." He groaned. He had a rich american accent.

Sarah moved to his side. "Shh. You're safe now. We'll look after you."

He took a quick breath. "Doctor..." he said, quietly.

Sarah paused. He couldn't be talking about her Doctor. Surely they'd never met before.

"Doctor... the Tardis..."

Sarah stared. This man must know the Doctor. Who else could he know that called themself The Doctor and had a Tardis?

"Sarah!"

The Doctor's loud voice startled her. She jumped, and then headed toward the consol room.

When she reached it, the Doctor was fiddling with something on the consol. in his other hand, he held a gadget of some sort, badly beaten and scratched.

"What's that?" she asked.

"Its an energy weapon, Draconian I think. I wonder how it got to earth?" He muttered that last part, frowning slightly.

"The young man," Sarah started to say, but the Doctor cut her off.

"But its been modified. There are traces of technology from all sorts of species; Sontaran, Zygon, Foamazi... there's even a bit of Time Lord..." He looked very thoughtful.

"Doctor, have you ever met Mr. Keaton before?"

The Doctor looked up, a twinkle in his eye. "He hasn't met me yet, but I've met him. Why?"

"He's talking in his sleep. I think he said something about you. Something about a Doctor and a Tardis."

The Doctor frowned. "That's odd." He set the gadget down. Then, after a moment's pause, he walked quickly toward the medical bay.

-DWDWDW-

The Doctor blinked, his eyes being met by blinding light. He clenched his eyes shut for a moment, and then blinked carefully, letting his eyes adjust. He found himself in a plain room, simply walls, a floor, and a ceiling. He tried to reach up to brush his long golden hair out of his eyes, but he found his hands were tied behind his back, with some sort of metallic retraints. His head was throbbing.

He assessed his situation. His hands were stuck. His feet weren't, but as the room seemed to have no openings of any kind, that wasn't very useful. He glanced down at himself. His velvet coat was missing, so that ruled out the sonic, as it was in his pocket. His vest was unbuttoned and his shirt was dirty and torn. He could see a red stain on his upper arm, carelessly wrapped by a dirty old cloth. Judging by the pain lancing theough his skull, he most likely had some sort of head injury as well.

He braced himself against the wall, using it to stand up. Pain shot up his left leg, and he fell to one knee, gasping.

His ankle, he thought, grimly, wasn't just sprained. He winced. It was broken.

He leaned against the wall, sliding down gently, until he got to a sitting position. The pain was intense. He closed his eyes, and bit his lip.

He opened them again when he heard metel scraping on metel. A door opened seemlessly, and three men entered, shoving a disheveled figure in front of them. As the man fell forward into the room, the door once again closed, seamlessly.

The Doctor observed the newcomer. He could see his hands were restrained as well, and he wore a dress suit, (late 1910's style by the look of it) as if he had been out at a nice party. It had been crumpled, and torn. He had a bruise forming around his left eye, and his hair, which had been neatly combed, was now mussed and messy. He stared at the Doctor, warily.

The Doctor looked at him a moment. The man's face looked familiar. The Time Lord consentrated, searching his own mind for any clue as to who he was. He had difficulty focusing. Perhaps his memory hadn't fully recovered yet, or maybe it was the splitting headache. Or maybe both. He didn't know. This regeneration, he had noticed, didn't seem to hold memories as it should.

The man in the cell furrowed his brow at the Doctor, who was staring back at him.

The Time Lord tried to gently probe his cellmate's mind, only to be pushed away harshly. He blinked, puzzled. That's strange, he thought to himself. Humans don't normally have psychic shields.

Suddenly, his mind brought up a stored bit of information. He found a little man, in heavy make up, with a fake toothbrush mustache and a bowler hat. The Doctor broke into an expression of recognition. "Charlie Chaplin?" He said, bewilderment filling his voice.

-DWDWDW-

"Commander? We have the results of the brain scan, sir. They came back as... negative." The timid officer swallowed, and held out a information tablet.

The Commander turned, suddenly. "What?"

"It seems we captured the wrong one, sir. The augmented one, it seems, was the one that the android shot and left for dead."

The officer flinched back as the commander shouted in frustration, and slammed a fist down on the consol he was standing next to.

"Imbecile!" He spat at the frightened guard. "Now we can never take him! He'll be in a healing center, surounded by humans, if he isn't dead by now!"

"T-the androids left a perseption filter, so that no one could find him. He will most likely be there still."

"Then he will be dead!" The commander stormed toward the officer, his eyes filled with untameable anger, and his fist raised in a striking motion.

"We have locked on to his gene pattern! Sir, he is still alive!" The officer spoke rapidly, a squeak of fear escaping him.

The commander paused, anger billowing from his tense form. Then he relaxed. "Retrieve him." He said, simply, turning away.

"And the human, sir? What should we do with him?"

The Commander looked down at the information tablet in the officer's hands. "What is his intelligence level?"

"Forty-five." The officer replied.

"His mind is suitable. Put him with the other humans. And..." He paused, thoughtful for a moment. "Put the Time Lord with them. He must sense nothing out of the ordinary. Treat him as you treat all the others."

"Yes sir."

-DWDWDW-

First chapter done! Thank you to those who have reviewed! Its that kind of thing that keeps me working hard at these. Please, tell me what you think! Please let me know if you catch any spelling errors or grammar mistakes!

-The Pygairian