Author's note: Sorry for the long absence. I'm juggling two novels at once right now, and have found it difficult to make time for this with my deadlines. I'm really glad I did, though; it's wonderful to be back in the Dr. Who universe. What follows is an Amy chapter, but not to worry, the Doctor will be back with us next. Thanks for all the reviews and pm's. (See, Xia? I did write more!) (I do not own Doctor Who.)

Chapter Four:

Tested

Darkness held her.

Amy struggled against it just as she struggled against the restraints that pinned her arms and legs. She had no idea where she was or what was happening to her; she was only aware that she was flat on her back against a hard, cold surface. Her clothing had been replaced by a much lighter fabric. Too light, in fact; she shivered a bit in air too cool for her.

"Doctor!" she screamed with lung-bruising strength. "Doctor! Are you there?"

There was no answer. Amy turned her head until it rested flush against the cold metal underneath her. Her head ached and her mouth had a peculiar taste to it, like she had just eaten a jar full of cotton balls that tasted faintly of lemon. She screamed for the Doctor again and again, until her throat felt fiery and raw.

A faint crack of light appeared. Two figures, clad head to toe in some kind of sparkly, crinkly fabric, stood silhouetted by the light. They wore what looked like surgical masks that obscured much of their faces but left their eyes visible. Those eyes peered at her now with marked concern.

"Where am I?" she managed to croak. "Why am I here?"

They had no answers for her, or else they refused to give them. Instead, they converged on her, holding something that looked suspiciously like a needle high in one of their hands. Amy bucked like a wild thing. The figure not holding the needle grabbed her manacled forearm in an attempt to still her. Amy fought harder.

When she felt the sharp prick of slender steel driving into her flesh, she screamed.

"What's wrong with her?" one of the figures asked, withdrawing the needle. "It's as if she has no idea about the testing."

"No," Amy said through gritted teeth. "She has no idea about the testing. What the hell is going on?" she demanded, wishing she could swipe at the tears that had formed during the needle stick.

The two figures stared at each other. "Is it possible?" asked one of them. "Could she be…."

Amy decided they weren't going to answer her questions. They wouldn't stop referring to her in the third person either. So she started screaming for the Doctor again. He would come for her; he had to.

"Ssh," the person who'd stuck her said. Warm hands brushed her hair away from her forehead. "It will all be over soon." The words sounded very ominous to Amy, bound and helpless beneath them. Another needle appeared in her field of vision, and she went wild, bucking and thrashing until she cracked her own head against the surface of the table.

"Sedative," said a crisp, authoritarian voice. Human female, Amy decided. Before she could blink, the other person had stabbed her again. This time, she didn't shriek. Instead, she instantly felt a dreamy calmness spread throughout her body. She tried to remember why she had been thrashing and couldn't. Who had she been screaming for? The Doctor? Well, surely these people were doctors too, and she must be in very good hands because she felt so wonderful, all floaty and dreamy and giggly.

"Is that better?" asked the woman who'd called for the sedative.

Amy could only giggle. Of course she was better. She was more than better. She felt wonderful, and she had these lovely strangers to thank for it. If only they would let her up, she'd give them a hug….

"I think we can dispense with these," said the other person. Male, Amy thought, and then laughed outright. Everything seemed so funny and wonderful and mixed up, like a funhouse full of distorted mirrors. Before she could tell her new friends about how much fun circuses could be, she felt the restraints slide away. Warm hands helped her sit up. She was grateful for the hands; without them, she might have fallen off the table.

"I'm sure you'll be able to leave soon," said the male soothingly. "Just as soon as we get a negative test result."

Amy nodded, even though she had no idea what he meant. She no longer cared. Instead, she stared at the gown she was wearing. It was so thin it was almost sheer, and there was a faint sparkle to the fabric. It clung to her in embarrassing places, and she found herself wishing for her more familiar clothes from Leadworth.

But it didn't matter. Nothing did, really, except the wonderful floaty feeling.

The door flew open. Black-visored security guards ringed a small woman in a white lab coat. Amy smiled crookedly and waved. The woman ignored her and hurried over to the other two. She seemed very excited; her movements were quick and jerky. Amy felt her head spinning just looking at her.

Her captors gathered in a loose group around the woman, who, Amy now saw, held a vial full of crimson liquid. In the dim light of the room, it looked like old blood. The three conferred in hushed whispers, stopping occasionally to stare at her. She just barely heard the words "positive" and "impossible" before the three of them came to ring her around the table.

"Congratulations," the woman in the lab coat said with false cheerfulness. "You are the first positive test result we've had in almost twenty years."

Amy felt confused, but it was a lovely confusion and she didn't want it to go away. "You mean I passed?" she asked, a little surprised to realize that she was slurring her words.

The woman beamed at her and held out her hand. "Oh yes. I suppose you could call it that. You came to us just in time. With the eggs you're carrying, you should be able to provide genetic material for several future generations."

"Umm," Amy said stupidly. "What?"

The woman patted her hand. Her touch was warm and soft and vaguely maternal. "The test, dear. It was a fertility test. You're the first fertile female we've caught… I mean, hosted… in two generations. You're incredibly valuable to us. You'll be well treated."

"But…" There was a problem here, several, in fact, Amy was certain. But she couldn't focus on what they were. Suddenly, she caught sight of the woman's lab coat and remembered and thought of doctors. Of course! The Doctor. "But my friend! I came here with someone… someone important. Where is he?" she asked, trying to think through the jelly that had become her brain.

"Oh, don't worry," said one of the black-visored men. He laughed, a low, ominous sound. It sent chills up Amy's neck. "He won't be bothering you anymore."

Amy felt the stick of a needle in her arm for the third time that day, and promptly blacked out.