[Original AN: Third chapter, ahoy!

(Note: I forgot to bring my Harry Potter book to my dad's to work on Infiltration, but hopefully next week. Sorry those of you waiting for that)]


When Steve returned from his brief meeting with the rest of his team, who were watching from the next room via security cameras, the apparently malicious alien called the Doctor was tapping absently on the bedside table, his expression distant and a little bit distressed.

Thor, after everyone was in attendance, had given the Avengers and Nick Fury a little more information on the alien they now held captive. Apparently, the Doctor was a renegade Time Lord, who, for fun, liked to gallivant around the universe and cause trouble. Mainly, causing destruction and death everywhere he went. According to Thor, he was a shame to his race, and was exiled in his younger years for interfering in universal affairs that he was forbidden from messing with. The Asgardian had also made sure to mention that other Time Lords were behaved and civilized, and the Doctor did not reflect anything on the culture of their planet.

"We should also be handsomely rewarded for returning this lowlife to his people," Thor had added. According to him, the Time Lords were thought to be dead, but since the Doctor was here that almost certainly meant that they were still around. Thor seemed a little excited about that, and had promised more information on the Doctor's species later on.

The Doctor hadn't noticed Steve approaching yet. His gaze was focused somewhere beyond his room, away from the Captain, and every once and awhile he would give a little sigh.

Steve entered the room, and the alien's eyes locked on him. His eyes followed Steve as the man moved to stand in front of him.

"I'm Steve," Steve said, not bothering to hide much of his disgust at the murderer currently sitting in front of him.

"Hello, I'm the Doctor," the murderer greeted, having the nerve to grin. "Are you here to punch me for drinking the water?"

Steve wasn't sure what that was supposed to mean, so he ignored it. "You're clearly a threat," he told the alien, "so you'll stay here until we can contact your people to come and collect you." Steve wasn't sure exactly when it had become normal to talk about aliens so casually.

The Doctor's face fell minutely, but enough that the soldier in front of him was able to tell. "Good luck with that," he said. And although he didn't sound sullen, he was certainly less cheerful than before. Steve felt a little bit proud that he'd been able to slightly cow what was apparently a dangerous individual. He was well aware that it could be an act; but it would have to be a very good one indeed.

"We'll be checking in on you," Steve added. "And there is a camera in the room. So don't try anything."

The alien gave a cheery mock-salute. "Yessir!"

Steve glared at him for a moment, and then left the room, shaking his head.


Sleep eluded the Doctor that night. He normally wouldn't have needed any in the first place, but being a prisoner had always taken a bit of a toll on him, especially on the first few nights. And paired with the tranquilizer and the fact that he hadn't gotten proper sleep in months, he was pretty exhausted.

(And, well, being confronted with tales of your mistakes didn't exactly leave someone with an abundance of energy, typically.)

There was nothing for him to do, either. He'd been robbed of his sonic screwdriver and psychic paper and most everything else in his pockets. He thought there might be a yo-yo and a banana left in one of them, but he wasn't bothered to check.

He sat up in bed, restless and wanting nothing more than to be back in the TARDIS, where there were repairs to be done, and a library and a pool and a bowling alley hidden away somewhere. He could distract himself if he was reading a nice Agatha Christie novel, or doing laps in the pool with the music turned up so loud he couldn't think properly, or bowling. Or playing chess, that would be good too. There wasn't a chess table in sight in his cell. Or...anything at all, actually.

"Once upon a time," he said aloud, "there was a madman with a box. He was trapped in a beyond-boring cell with glass walls, and and he thought he might scream he was so bored. The End."

"Very original," a new voice said from behind him. The Doctor whirled around to meet the amused eyes of a middle-aged man with dark hair and a purple shirt, standing just beyond the glass. "You could write a book."

The Doctor turned to face him completely, attempting to gesture with his cuffed hands and failing. "Do you know," he said, "how hard it is to sleep with handcuffs on? It's really not very pleasant." He gave up on the gestures and let his hands fall to his lap.

"I'm not going to take them off."

"I know. I just thought you might want to know. For future reference. You never know when you'll need this kind of information."

"Is that a threat?" More amusement.

"No." The Doctor's exhaustion seemed a lot more potent just then. He was a bit tired of dealing with hostile humans, especially when they were mocking him outside of his cell. He was bored, and tired, and the depression he'd pushed off earlier was creeping up on him.

Now the man was curious. "You don't act much like a mass-murderer," he noted.

"Well, thank you." The Doctor summoned his best grin. He toyed with the idea of countering the whole 'mass-murderer' thing, but he couldn't think of anything to argue with that wasn't a lie.

"I'm Bruce," the man revealed.

"Hello then, Bruce. Are you here to make sure I don't go crazy and try to escape?"

The man stuffed his hands in his pockets and took a good long look at the Doctor before saying, "No. I couldn't sleep either."

The Doctor could accept that. He could spot a tiny bit of darkness lurking in the back of Bruce's eyes - a look that he often saw in himself when he looked in the mirror. Although, on a grander scale, naturally. More than 900 years of experience and all that.

"You look like a smart man, Bruce," the Doctor finally said. "So tell me: why is there an Asgardian here?"

Bruce shrugged. "Thor ended up on Earth a while back. I don't know how - I wasn't there at that point. He made some friends, there was a battle, that kind of thing. He went back home. Then his brother Loki turned psychotic and came to Earth, and Thor followed him to try and stop him. Now he's mostly accepted here. Among us, anyway. I don't know about the rest of the planet, though. They aren't too excited about aliens these days." He then came very close to the glass, his nose nearly brushing it. "Now you tell me: why are you here?"

"Holiday," the Doctor replied immediately.

Bruce lifted his eyebrows. "Really," he said.

"No," the Time Lord admitted. "Actually, I'm not sure. The TARDIS decided to drop me off in New York City, no explanation provided. It was a pretty bumpy ride. But I suppose that wasn't entirely her fault, we did sort of fall into a wormhole out by one of those sketchy galaxies." He winced and rubbed his head a little.

"And the TARDIS is?" Bruce prompted.

The Doctor frowned a little. "The blue box," he answered, a little hesitantly.

"Your ship," the human gathered. "Right."

"Don't touch it," the Doctor said. "Really, don't."

"Is it rigged to explode or something?"

"No. But I'd really just like it if you left it alone."

Bruce shrugged again. "I'm afraid I can't do that. Who knows what else it is. Could be a weapon."

The Doctor frowned at him. "I don't do weapons. And I actually don't like to hurt people, for your information." When Bruce did nothing more than raise an eyebrow, the Doctor continued, with more feeling. "Also, seducing isn't really my style. Is that what Thor said earlier? Seducing? I honestly don't try to seduce people, but-" he cut off when he saw Bruce starting to slowly wander away. "Wait, where are you-"

"I'm off to try and get some more sleep," the man told him. "We'll get in touch with your people tomorrow."

The Doctor felt a little stab of guilt. "I really don't think you should, actually," he warned. Bruce just waved him off, nearly disappeared into the shadows. "You might be disappointed with what you find!" the Doctor called, and seconds later, a door slammed shut.

Or don't find, he thought with a sigh.


[Original AN: I got several reviews saying that they wished the Doctor had defended himself more in the last chapter. Maybe he should have, a little bit, but I think enough of what Thor was saying was true, at least partially. He is manipulative sometimes, and he does cause destruction, even if it is accidental. He has murdered billions. Although the legends did exaggerate some of his worst deeds (he doesn't brutalize, I don't think), there were nuggets of truth that I think would bring the Doctor down a bit, especially so close to his death.

Anyway, he did defend himself a bit against Bruce's accusations, and addressed part of what Thor said that I consider to be almost entirely untrue. And he was going to say more before Dr. Banner walked off, so. He will set the record straight eventually, as I'm sure you've guessed, but he hasn't really gotten a huge chance to yet.

Anyway, please tell me what you think. I update faster with reviews ushering me along, I believe. :)]