A/N: A whole week! Mine seems to be working, now, but here's a bit of a temporary fix if you're still having problems...
Go to your "My Stories" section and click on the name of the story you wish to update. In the URL of the error message replace the word "property" with the word "content" and you should be all set.-Credit to Kelly of the midnight dawn for this.
You can't post any new stories, just update. Which is just fine with me, right now :D
Chapter 2 – Defining A Rebound
Torchwood Three
The Doctor spluttered. "Wait, you and Martha are together?"
Mickey seemed a little taken aback at the Doctor's shocked reaction to what he thought was just casual conversation. "You got a problem with that?"
"No, no, it's just… What happened to Tom?" the Doctor asked, blinking.
"Can't you guess?"
"No, I can't."
"It's a human thing," Mickey began, munching on another slice of pizza. "It's called a rebound."
The Doctor seemed somehow even more confused. "What's a rebound?" He paused, thought some more. "Do I want to know?"
"Probably not," Mickey replied.
"… More pizza, please."
Mickey grinned, and held out the plate. As the Doctor reached out to take the last slice Jack entered the doorway.
"Martha wants to see you, Doctor," he informed the Time Lord, moving unfeasibly quickly over to the box and nabbing the slice the Doctor was reaching out for.
"Hey!" the Doctor protested, thoroughly disgruntled. "That was mine!"
"I don't see your name on it," Jack replied cheekily, devouring it in three bites. "Martha wants to see you," he repeated. "She's got an idea about that infection."
The Doctor sighed, pushing on the table to get to his feet. He waved a fond farewell to Mickey, but to his surprise Mickey was getting up to follow him. The Doctor gave him an inquisitive look, but Mickey simply shrugged.
"I wanna look," he said. "I bet it's gross."
The Doctor sighed again. "I preferred it when you were a wimp. C'mon then."
They emerged in the examination room, where Martha was already prepared. She gestured for the Doctor to take a seat on the bed as Mickey hovered in the corner, peering over Martha's shoulder with interest.
As the wound was revealed Mickey's face screwed up in disgust, and Martha's eyes widened in alarm.
"It's spreading," she realised, and it was true. There were thin black lines spreading out from the scratches, heading up towards his left shoulder. "This isn't like anything I've seen before." She reached forward towards his back with latex gloves on. "This might hurt."
She examined the black lines with her finger, prodding and poking and pulling, but the Doctor couldn't feel it.
"It's like… it's growing under your skin," Martha surmised. There was the distinct sound of a camera phone taking a picture, and the Doctor turned to find Mickey with his phone out, pointing at his back. The Doctor grabbed the phone, looking at the picture himself.
"Oh," he muttered.
"Do you know what that is?" Martha asked.
There was a long, silent pause before the Doctor suddenly turned around, a broad smile on his face.
"You're right," he said, grinning. "Just an infection. I can treat it in the TARDIS." He suddenly jumped off of the bed, tossing Mickey back his phone before reaching for his shirt and pulling it on. "Nice seeing you all again, but I'd better be off."
He moved quickly towards the door. Martha hastily grabbed his arm, stopping him dead in his tracks.
"Tell me what medicines to get. Your fever's getting worse, you need to rest."
"No, really, I have to go," the Doctor insisted.
Martha didn't like this one bit. "No, Doctor, you're staying here where I can keep an eye on you. Get into bed," she demanded, quite seriously. Her glare was so ferocious the Doctor simply had to oblige, rapidly getting into the bed at her command.
"Now, tell me what medicines you need."
The Doctor stared hard at her. "Pinizopan."
"Thank you," Martha replied, drawing the covers up over him. "Mickey, keep an eye on him. I'll get the Pinizopan."
Mickey watched the Doctor carefully as the Time Lord watched Martha exit the room, his gaze completely devoid of emotion.
Pete's World
Jackie's instant reaction was to hug the both of them as tightly as she could as soon as they got back from the hospital. She already knew what had happened, call it maternal instinct.
"I'm so sorry, love," she said as comfortingly as she could, holding Don tightly and rubbing his back.
Don nodded, feeling completely empty inside. His single human heart was hurting more than his dual ones ever had, and it was times like this he appreciated Jackie, as the Mother he hadn't had for hundreds of years.
"We're gonna keep tryin'," Rose said as Jackie parted from Don, nodding as if assuring herself it was the right thing to do. She took Don's hand, and felt him squeeze tightly.
Jackie was probably surprised by what Rose had said, but she hid it well. She simply nodded.
"Don't fret about arrangin' a funeral. I'll sort that out."
Rose and Don looked at each other, and then nodded. "Thanks, Jackie," Don said quietly.
"It's okay, love," she answered with a smile, before pulling a big smile in a change of subject. "Pete's havin' a business dinner tonight with a rich man hopin' for investment, he wants you to be there, but don't feel you have to."
Don and Rose looked at each other again, their hands still intertwined. Maybe it would help take their minds off of what had happened for a while.
"We'll go," Don said.
Sarah Jane Smith
It was already afternoon by the time Sarah got around to going to the attic. After cleaning up, the grocery shopping and ferrying the teenagers to and from school her day had pretty much been packed from the moment her alarm had gone off. Cleaning the house up after Clyde and Rani had stayed the night last night had taken three hours alone, and Sarah had discovered in the process for the first time that K9 was in fact not built for domestics. Not even a hoover attachment. Typical Doctor.
At 5pm she dragged herself into the attic feeling absolutely knackered, extremely ready just to have dinner, kick back for the evening with a cup of Horlicks and watch the television.
"Mr Smith, I need you!" she said, and was met with the usual fanfare exploding from the alien machine.
"Good afternoon, Sarah Jane," Mr Smith said politely.
"Anything happened?" she asked, crossing her fingers, hoping and praying...
Mr Smith paused for a moment. "I am detecting some unusual activity in close national vicinity, Sarah Jane."
Sarah sighed, shoulders sagging. So much for her Horlicks' night, she thought. "What sort of activity?"
"I am afraid I cannot specify," Mr Smith replied regretfully. "It does not seem to be even a concept in my database. I would suggest immediate investigation."
"Where is it?"
"A very specific point within London," he said, bringing up a map of London and marking the point with a red dot.
Sarah's jaw dropped. "That's... That's Canary Wharf. The Torchwood Tower. Are Torchwood still there?"
"No, Sarah Jane," Mr Smith replied in his ever calm voice. "The base has been abandoned since the Battle of Canary Wharf."
Sarah nodded. "Thank you, Mr Smith," she said, turning back to the door.
"Sarah Jane," Mr Smith suddenly interrupted, sounding a little anxious. "I suggest proceeding with extreme caution."
"What?"
"My database is extremely extensive. I can catalogue every known species in the Universe at .2 of a nanosecond. This, I cannot specify, or even analyse from this close range. This would suggest it is a life form unknown, and unencountered."
Sarah paused for a moment, taking this in, and then nodded.
"Thank you, Mr Smith," she said again, then left the attic, grabbing her coat and handbag and making to the front door.
"Mum?" suddenly came Luke's voice from the kitchen, and moments later the teenager wandered into the hallway to find her half-out the door.
"I'm going to be a few hours," she said over her shoulder.
"Where're you going?" he asked.
"Mr Smith has detected something unusual. Stay here."
"What? Can't I come?"
She shook her head instantly. "It could be very dangerous. If I'm not back, tell Mr Smith to contact the Doctor."
Luke frowned. "Mum..."
"No arguments. Tea's in the oven," she said, and with that, she disappeared out the door.
Torchwood Three
"Checkmate," the Doctor said dully for the hundredth time that afternoon to the situation on the chessboard on his lap. Mickey sighed once again, clearing off the chess pieces.
"Why can't you let me win like before?" Mickey asked seriously.
"Oh Mickey," the Doctor began, grinning. "You're not eight anymore."
He glared at the Doctor. "Shut up!"
"Doctor," Martha's voice began from the doorway, Jack hovering behind her. "Let me check your back."
"I'm like a cabaret dog," the Doctor huffed, turning as Mickey took the chessboard off of his lap. The moment his wound revealed itself the entire room fell silent.
The Doctor shifted awkwardly. "Umm, not good?"
Martha pulled on her latex gloves, poking and prodding at the black lines – they had spread quite quickly to his shoulder and were beginning to climb down his left arm and up the left side of his neck.
"It's spread," Martha muttered, pulling out her stethoscope and turning him back around to face her, placing the end on his chest. "Okay, breathe in for me Doctor. Hold it… Now out. In, hold it, out." She was frowning, listening hard. "Okay, take the biggest breath in that you can. Hold it. Out."
She pulled back, her eyes narrowed in concentration to think of the correct diagnosis. Finally she looked back at the Doctor who was staring at her intently with those deep, brown eyes.
"Let me check your arm's motor responses," she began, reaching for his arm.
"No."
Martha gazed at him, almost in the disgust that he was still trying to fob her off. "Doctor, I'm not arguing about this. You're hurt, let me help you."
"It's not that," the Doctor said, some sort of forced chirpiness in his voice.
"What? Give me your arm."
"I can't."
"Why not?"
"Martha…" the Doctor was on the verge of whispering, gazing straight into her eyes. "… I'm so sorry."
Martha was really paying attention now, stopping, almost frozen as she gazed right back at him. He only ever spoke those words when…
The silence was deafening. Finally the Doctor spoke, but his words cut like razorblades.
"My left arm is paralysed," he said. "I can't feel it."
"This isn't an ordinary infection," Jack muttered, staring out from the balcony over the Hub, Martha standing next to him. She had needed to get out of that room.
"Sort of sussed that one; thanks, Jack," Martha replied rudely, and it was a few moments because she realised what she'd said. "Oh I'm sorry, Jack."
"It's okay," Jack replied, placing his hand around her shoulders in comfort. "We will work this out."
"Has he said what he was doing when he got these cuts?" Martha asked, turning to Jack. Jack just gave a half-shrug.
"Just that he was chased by an angry alien creature. The usual."
"Maybe there was something on those claws," Martha murmured.
"Like a poison?" Jack suggested.
She nodded. "But he knows what it is, he got that medicine to treat himself."
"Maybe it's getting worse before it gets better."
"Maybe…" Martha muttered, but she was interrupted from saying anything else as the door of the Doctor's room suddenly flew open and Mickey stood in the doorway, his eyes wide in alarm.
"It's the Doctor!" he yelled. "He's having a heart attack!"
A/N: A chapter preview, what? :o
Chapter 3 – Tears Of Black
She screamed out loud, trying with all her might to yank her foot out of the black liquid, but it had a very firm grip. It moved up and up her body, and soon she couldn't move her legs at all. It continued up her body, reaching her torso, wrapping itself around her like a second skin...
"DOCTOR!" she screamed – she couldn't help it, it was impulse. But he wasn't here. He wasn't here. He wasn't here...
It was up at her shoulders now, and she couldn't move. She was absolutely terrified. She was going to die. She tried again to move, managing to grasp her sonic lipstick from her bag but it was like weights were attached to her arms. She fumbled for the switch and pressed it... but it had no effect.
There was nothing she could do.
