The Doctor, dreamed. He dreamt of home, of Gallifrey. He dreamt of his past lives, of the friends that he'd left behind. Companions, he recalled them all. Looking down in surprise and confusion he examined his hands and turned them over. They moved to pat down his chest, to feel the material of his jacket. His eyes, his old eyes, glistened with the onset of tears as they took in the golden-orange sky and trees laced with silver leaves. They shimmered and reflected the morning sunlight, just as he'd always remembered; it looked still, as though the forests were on fire. Ablaze under the rays of the dual suns, "Home," he breathed, "I'm home…"

It was only when he began to walk that he realised that something wasn't quite right. It seemed that the more he strode on, the further away the glass dome encased Cathedral got. The Doctor halted his footsteps; he stared sadly up at the Cathedral of the Time Lords. He appreciated once more the sunlight reflecting from the edge of the glass dome.

And he dreamed no more.

His whole body ached and trembled as he slowly stirred from his heaped position on the floor. The back of his head seemed to have cushioned his fall, he gripped the hair there tightly to help distract from the intense pain coursing through him. The Doctor was suddenly aware of how, alone he was now. He scrambled unsteadily to his feet. His inappropriately slippy shoes skidded a few times on the stone floor before obediently maintaining their grip. He rubbed the massive lump he'd developed as, through grumbles and groans, he turned on the spot.

Definitely alone.

Clues, gone.

People, gone.

Sonic, gone.

He rushed to check his pockets then got painfully down onto his knees, feeling around desperately through the darkness. That's all he needed, to have to track down a sonic wielding convict.

"Brilliant..."

Sonic-less and now thoroughly disorientated, the Doctor staggered through the open doorway out into the corridor. How long had he been out cold? For all he knew the game could be over and the winner long gone. 'No' he told himself, 'I'll track them down if I ever get back to the Tardis... If I ever get out alive... If I get out at all' Where was Pond when you needed her?

He felt almost naked with his lack of screwdriver. Of course, he hadn't always depended on it. He had, in one of his lives, gone hands free. However with the growing evils in the universe and considering his current whereabouts, the Doctor would have preferred to have been Soniced-up.

A shuffling noise from behind him made him jump. He turned quickly, nothing. The Doctor was suddenly very aware of his breathing. Sidestepping into a shadow he held his breath and waited... And waited.

As he was about to give up and continue, the shuffling noise began again. Only this time, it came from directly above him.

"Oh…" he breathed. Now he understood. The Doctor turned his attention to the ceiling above him.

There in a mass of wings and bony flesh, hanging from the corridor ceiling, stirring slightly in its hideous sleep, was a Krillitane. He realised now why the prisoners had brought protection with them into the maze – But he was unarmed now. That, made his blood run cold. The Doctor wasted no time in edging away as slowly and as quietly as he could. Time Lord, would not be on the menu tonight.

The Doctor managed to put a great deal of distance between himself and the Krillitane. He sank down to the floor against the wall, his terrified breaths now audible in the darkened maze. What on earth was a Krillitane doing in here? As far as he knew Krillitanes weren't generally held in storm cages when crimes were committed. Then again, he hadn't frequented a storm cage for hundreds of years, how times must have changed. He lent his head back against the wall, still breathing heavily, his hearts, still racing. He was used to being defenceless, but not this defenceless.

The sound of voices made his ears prick up, he recognised that voice. It was faint, but he'd recognise it anywhere. It would reverberate around in his mind for years and years, until his death. Where that voice would be his comfort as he slipped away to join it. He scrambled to his feet and squinted for any sign of human-like life. What he discovered instead, was another door. He pressed his ear to the wood, holding onto the frame to stop himself from falling in and breaking his cover. The voice was louder now. He crouched down to peer through the keyhole. He wondered suddenly why such an advanced 51st century storm cage facility was using such an old setting for a game. He'd find out later; right now however, he could clearly hear what was being said, and could see a tiny bit of what was going on.

He could just make out the woman in blue whom he'd managed to disarm before his untimely collapse. The voice however, wasn't coming from her. The owner of it wasn't in view of the keyhole.

"He's like fire and ice and rage. He's like the storm in the heart of the sun, ancient and forever. That man burns at the centre of time; he can feel the turn of the universe. And he's wonderful"

The Doctor grinned, suspicions confirmed. The glint of green and silver sonic made him even more determined as he reached for the handle and turned it. He opened the door quickly for optimum surprise. And it was definitely a surprise he got. The woman in blue was tied by rope to a chair in the centre of the room. The blonde in red was stood a few metres away, gun in one hand, sonic in the other.

"Professor Plum!" he declared happily glossing over the clear hostage situation, "Let me guess, Miss Scarlett and Mrs Peacock, hello!" Miss Scarlett had her gun on him immediately, "Whoa! Hang on a minute!" he cried, "I can prove it you know…" He began to reach into his pocket.

"Hands where I can see them!" she demanded. The Doctor raised his hands over his head obediently. He frowned as her steely stare suddenly turned to one of complete and utter horror. He raised an eyebrow expectantly as she began to take slow uneasy steps backwards. It suddenly dawned on him how loud they must have been.

"Oh…" he murmured hopelessly.