Nightmares and unimaginable creatures were swimming before his eyes. He dreamt of the horrors of the past, and of the worse things yet to come.

He was so very lost and alone; adrift in the universe. Not aimlessly wandering, as he often pretended, but running away.

But soon, the voice promised, soon, the sacred temple would be ready.

"Nate!" Charlie gasped, waking suddenly from his dream, which vanished from memory almost as soon as his eyes were open.

He gasped again, suddenly realising that Lyrosa was kneeling at his bedside.

"Are you feeling better now?" she asked softly, wiping the beads of perspiration from his forehead with a monogrammed handkerchief. "The physicians said that the ailment had passed."

Charlie's clothes were soaked with his sweat. So were the expensive sheets on the king size bed.

He realised that he was in someone's luxury apartment. Lyrosa's chamber in her father's palace, at a guess. Expensive furs and fabrics lined the walls of the room, partially covering digital paintings. The paintings moved, he noticed, watching a flying ship with billowing sails tumble through a stormy sky.

He felt kinda bad about getting in this state in such an expensive looking room.

His throat was burning, too, like he'd just thrown up. Charlie really hoped he hadn't. He really wouldn't be making a good impression.

"Who is Nate?" Lyrosa asked, folding her arms and leaning on the edge of the bed.

Charlie turned to her, his puzzled eyes analysing her expression.

"He's…" Charlie sighed. "It doesn't matter."

"You sounded worried." Lyrosa's concern seemed genuine.

"He's gone," Charlie replied tersely.

"Gone?"

"I lost him."

"Can he be found?"

Charlie chewed on his lip for a moment.

"I don't know," he said quietly.

The girl was alarmingly close to him. Charlie could feel her warm breath prickling against his skin. It made him itch.

"Uh… can you not?" he ventured.

"Is my closeness making you uncomfortable?" Lyrosa asked, retreating a little way with a smirk.

"Little bit," Charlie muttered through clenched teeth.

She giggled, which really didn't help. Charlie felt even more awkward.

When he first met her, and she'd agreed to help him, he hadn't considered the possibility that she'd… liked him?

He had been in a desperate spot, with only a few hours left to save the Doctor before the execution. Lyrosa's feelings hadn't been at the forefront of his mind. Nor his own, for that matter.

The more Charlie overthought the situation, the less sure he was about his feelings towards Lyrosa. Did he fancy her?

She was pretty, sure. But she was also an alien. A rich, powerful alien who made him feel uncomfortable.

Charlie quashed that train of thought. Bloody hormones.

"Where's the Doctor?" he asked.

"He went inside his police-public-call-box," Lyrosa answered, checking her notes on her holographic wrist device.

"Oh. Okay."

Lyrosa continued: "Free-for-the-use-of-"

Charlie nodded, waving his hand to stop her. "Yeah – the… police box… yeah."

She smiled. "Wasn't that its name?"

Charlie's mouth hung open for a moment, as he processed Lyrosa's misunderstanding.

"I think that's just a sign on the door…"

Lyrosa clamped her hand around her wrist; the holographic image of the TARDIS vanished.

"Will he be back?"

Charlie nodded.

"Yeah, I should think so."

He was pretty confident the Doctor would return. Regardless of whether the Doctor truly trusted him or not, he knew the Doctor wouldn't just leave him behind on an alien world.

Lyrosa stared introspectively at a beautifully patterned rug.

"It's nice that the two of you have such a close relationship," she muttered.

"A close what?" Charlie queried. Did she mean what he thought she meant?

"The two of you have absolute faith in one another." Lyrosa paused a moment, and shrugged. "My father and I do not connect well. Are conversations are artificial, woven with mistrust."

Ah. That kind of relationship.

"Yeah. I trust the Doctor," Charlie agreed. "You think he trusts me?"

"Yes, I do," Lyrosa answered, thoughtfully.

She stared at his arm for a moment. Her lips twitched, pondering on a question.

"What are these?" she asked after a while, her fingernails gently touching his skin.

With a jolt, Charlie realised that his sleeves had been rolled up, exposing his scarred forearm.

It sickened him becoming aware that he had let his guard down, and that he'd accidentally let the marks from his past be seen.

"They're just cuts," he said pointedly.

Lyrosa noticed the sharpness of his tone, and responded with empathy: "Who did this to you?"

"No-one." Charlie shook his head, and pulled the sleeve of his hoodie back over the marks. "It was… my fault."

She rested her chin on her crossed arms, her expression glum, perhaps trying to show she understood his sadness. Perhaps encouraging him to confide in her.

Damn, Charlie thought. He was overanalysing every detail about her reactions again. She wasn't his therapist.

"How much pain must you have been in to do this to yourself?" she whispered.

"I…" Charlie sighed.

"It'll be okay, I promise. Morovia is home to some of the finest physicians in the five galaxies. They can heal all kinds of wounds." Lyrosa smiled warmly. "Not just physical ones."

Charlie nodded. "Thanks, I guess."

The holographic bracelet around Lyrosa's wrist lit up with a swirling symbol.

Her reaction to it seemed to hold an air of defeat.

Lyrosa pushed away from the bed, and stood up. "You will be well, Charlie. But I have to leave now."

"Wait, uh… why?"

"My father has summoned me."

"Your father…? I've not gotten you into trouble, have I?"

After all the help she had given him, Charlie had not forgotten that she was the daughter of an extremely influential man – his surroundings were a constant reminder. Her decision to step in and save them would have had serious ramifications.

"You have, I'm afraid. Don't forget, my father wished your friend executed. My actions will have placed him under heavy criticism from the media."

"Oh. I'm sorry," Charlie mumbled awkwardly.

"Don't be," she said quietly as she left.

Lyrosa hesitated before passing through the doorway. Her kind expression had turned to steel. Her mask of determination flickered; she looked as though she were about to say something else. Ultimately, she decided against it, and drifted away.


The Doctor had some serious thinking to do.

There was a lot going on at the moment (when wasn't there?), so he hadn't spared much thought to the questions about his travelling companion.

Something was very wrong with him. Not just the strange sickness which was ailing him now and had caused him to collapse suddenly in a fevered state.

This was about Kate Stewart and his other allies at UNIT. They had warned him about the boy just after their first meeting. Kate had shown him a photograph from the Moonbase, proving that the two of them would travel together.

The laws of time dictated that this now had to happen. (If he overlooked all those other times when he had decided they didn't. Perhaps he needed to be a little clearer on what the laws of time actually were.)

From that moment it was fixed that he and Charlie would go to the Moonbase together.

He'd deliberately led him into a couple of potentially dangerous situations beforehand to assess how well Charlie would perform under pressure, to ensure he was ready for whatever challenges they would face on the Moon.

Even so, death by spider pregnancy wasn't something either of them was emotionally prepared for. (He could ponder on the ethics of that one later).

True, the Moonbase episode had been rather a disastrous one, but they'd both survived - just. He had Charlie to thank for that. Without the boy's courage, they might not have made it.

A change of hearts had thrown a sonic spanner in the works somewhat. The Doctor's initial plan had been to allow the Moonbase adventure to pan out – sit out the paradox, and then drop Charlie back home. But naturally, things had become a little more complicated.

He had discovered something very worrying inside the boy's mind. He knew that Charlie was hiding something. That had been obvious from the moment they met. But he'd assumed that it was something unimportant and human-related.

How wrong can you be?

Charlie's secret was definitely important, and probably alien. There was a creature – quite possibly a very dangerous one – living inside the boy's mind.

It was all linked – the Wraiths, the virus, the defeat of the Arachnid Queen. The Doctor found it greatly intriguing. This creature was going to show itself again sooner or later. Perhaps then, he'd be able to gather more information about its intentions.

Swept up by an impulse following their near death experience, he'd given the boy a TARDIS key. He'd offered him the chance to keep travelling through time and space – and the Charlie had accepted.

The Doctor didn't see a problem with that. Despite all the warnings, despite his own reservations, and this mysterious 'Vyper', Charlie had proven himself a capable and trustworthy friend. He'd saved their lives a couple of times, now. And damn it, he'd actually started to like the boy.

But he was still missing a piece of the puzzle. The facts didn't quite fit. It all revolved around the assumption that Charlie had no idea this creature was inside his head. He hadn't known about the Vyper virus on Solos Nine – the thing had tried to kill both of them anyway. And Charlie hadn't known about his defeat of the Arachnids. It simply wasn't there in his memories. Why would Charlie consciously try to hide something he knew nothing about?

There must be something else. Another secret the boy was hiding. And he was fairly sure this secret revolved around someone called Nate.

This was something he really ought to find out, lest it plunge them into a lot more trouble. (And frankly, they were in enough trouble already).

"Doctor?"

The physician shook the Doctor from his thoughts.

The physician's name was Nera, a fact the Doctor had filed in his short term memory, and would delete later. Nera was a small, slender woman, whose toothpick arms looked as though they might snap if one were to shake her hand too hard. She was offering a data pad to him, which he accepted.

He examined the swirling readings, graphs and charts scattered across the screen.

"What am I looking at?"

The physician seemed lost for a moment, before responding. "You asked me to take additional scans of the boy's brain."

She was an elderly woman, whose voice quivered throughout every sentence.

"Did I?" queried the Doctor. "I suppose I must have done."

The physician shook her head, tottering back to her immaculate white desk, busying herself with another data pad.

The Doctor quickly deciphered the readings showing Charlie's brain scans. The alien equipment was unfamiliar with human biology, but it was reasonably similar to the local anatomy, so the software was able to cope.

He knew that Charlie was seriously ill. He had no idea how long this had been developing, or what was causing it, though the suspicions of the mysterious Vyper lingered in his mind.

The TARDIS held no answers. She didn't even seem to think that there was anything wrong with him. Charlie was registering as a perfectly healthy human lifeform.

That's why he was here. On Morovia. He would have come sooner, if it weren't for the TARDIS landing on the wrong island.

This planet was home to the best doctors he knew of. They were supposedly the best diagnostic practitioners specialising in humanoid ailments this side of the Tiberian Spiral Galaxy. If they couldn't find out what was wrong with Charlie, then by medical definition, nothing was wrong with him.

"This can't be right," the Doctor scoffed.

"No?" Nera queried, peering at him over her surgical goggles.

"No. I know there's something wrong with him," the Doctor insisted, pacing the room, his arms flapping in agitation.

The physician watched him, without moving from her station.

"The boy is in perfect health," she stated.

The Doctor threw his arms up in the air, and growled in annoyance. He thrust the data pad under the woman's slender nose, and stabbed the screen.

"Then what the hell is this?"

Nera brushed the Doctor's fingers aside, and examined the anatomical diagram he was pointing to. "The heart appears to be beating at a steady rate."

"Both of them?" the Doctor roared.

Nera's eyes locked on to him, and she raised an eyebrow. "Yes, they both appear to be normal."

"Humans don't have two hearts!" the Doctor almost yelled at her.

"Oh." Nera's brows crumpled in confusion, apparently oblivious to the serious repercussions of this revelation. "I thought he was like you."

"He's not…" The Doctor stopped himself. He pinched the bridge of his nose, reeling in his fury.

Yes, he could see how Nera had arrived at her conclusion. Without key pieces of information, it was a logical assumption.

His mind raced to another conclusion. He might well have overlooked the validity of one or two of his own assumptions. What could one deduce from the elimination of impossibilities?

"This isn't a viral infection," the Doctor conjectured. "It's not a sickness at all. It's some kind of parasite!"


Charlie was bored.

He had been feeling strong enough to get up and walk around for a while now. In that time, he had allowed himself to be awestruck by the technology in Lyrosa's room.

A concave strip of clear plastic, which housed an array of miniscule printer nozzles, puzzled him. It sat on the dresser, amongst a number of beauty products, and its shape implied that fit over one's face, as a mask.

Charlie guessed that it might be a make-up dispenser, automatically painting the face with synthesized colours. Perhaps it even had the capability to alter one's appearance - a portable plastic surgeon?

The dressing table mirror was pretty intriguing, too. It allowed his reflection to be turned around with the swipe of his fingers, allowing him to view his head from behind – and see that his mop of hair was a complete mess.

And with this technology belonging to Lady Lyrosa, daughter of a chancellor, Charlie had no idea whether these were unique luxury items, or simply commonplace products found everywhere on the planet.

It made him grin stupidly, until he caught his expression in the mirror.

Seeing his face grounded him on this alien world, reminding him where he was, who he was, and why he was here.

He had been really sick – and he still was. His stomach was churning up a factory of bile, his legs were shaking, and his skin pallid and sweaty.

He drew in a deep breath, suppressing a growing discomfort spreading through his body.

He shuffled away from the mirror, concentrating on the nauseating feeling as it reached his legs.

Charlie arched backwards as a stabbing sensation severed his spine, expelling the breath from his lungs.

His legs stopped supporting him, and he crashed to the floor, gasping for breath. Writhing pathetically, like a drowning worm, Charlie struggled upright once more.

He spent a few minutes rubbing some life back into the numb limbs, until they were moving again. Once he was sure he could flex his toes, he relaxed.

Panic over. He was okay.

Charlie nodded. "I'm sure it's fine…"

"Oh!" a voice uttered in surprise. "Hello."

Startled, Charlie twisted round, but there was no-one behind him.

"Who's there?"

Had someone entered the room in his moment of panic?

"Please don't be alarmed," they said levelly.

This time, he felt it – the skin on the back of his neck pulled taught as the voice spoke.

Pulling himself up to the dressing table, Charlie looked in the mirror, fearing what he was about to see, as his brain drew impossible conclusions.

He craned his neck, struggling to see in the mirror, until he remembered that the mirror could display more than a simple reflection.

His hand shaking, Charlie reached for the cold surface of the mirror, and dragged his finger along the screen.

As the view of his head revolved, that churning sensation in his stomach returned.

There was a face, poking through the hair on the back of his head. It smiled at him.

Charlie fell away from the mirror in shock.

"What the hell…?"