A/N: I don't own Doctor Who

Chapter 4: Slipping

Well, that quite thoroughly had not gone as he had planned it. Not that he had much in the way of a specific plan. He'd planned on charming his way out of the whole situation, at worst maybe having to make something explode.

But instead, he was locked in a rather tricky sort of cell, and, to make matters worse, they'd managed to find and confiscate his Sonic Screwdriver. That's when he really, actually started to worry. They'd been cleverer than he originally thought…people rarely managed to get a hold of his Sonic Screwdriver.

He tried to shed these thoughts. Yes, they were clever. But also, he was cleverer. Much more. He was going to get out of this; it was just a matter of time, something of which he knew he didn't have much. If this species was anything, it was efficient.

His hearts were pounding and he focused one side of his mind on working to get out of his little fix. His head was spinning. He'd already been locked away for a full day. If he didn't get out soon, he didn't know what Rose would do. Probably something reckless, like try and save him. If Rose was in his position, Rassilon forbid, he thought, he'd do the same and save her. Normally he would be okay with Rose rescuing him. She could take care of herself; she more than proved herself capable of that on multiple occasions. But this time their child was in the mix, and that terrified him.

The other half of his mind thought only of Rose and their baby. From the first test he ran, he knew it was strong. Rose positively glowed when he told her the baby was progressing well. He remembered how her cheeks flushed and how he couldn't help but lean across the monitors and kiss just about every inch of her body.

In another time, when he was a different man, he had been a sort of father. Even before Jenny, he'd given genetic material before, but actually willingly. But this child was going to be a product of intense love. This wasn't the requisite genetic transfer that most Gallifreyans partook in to sustain the race. This was a child that was really half him and half Rose, conceived in love and a passion that bordered on reckless abandon.

Rose hadn't let him go as far as to discover the sex of the child. She wanted it to be a surprise. The Doctor had protested, claiming it would be much easier to prepare a nursery if they were to know if it was going to be a boy or girl, but Rose insisted. He loved that she was so stubborn, and then too, when her cheeks flushed in frustration at the Doctor's initial persistence on the subject, he kissed her. She had surprised him by taking his head in both of her hands and wrapping her legs around his back. She had seriously usurped that particular kiss, and he didn't mind a bit.

He thought of the moment when he first discovered that Rose was pregnant, and how every neuron in his brain tried to deny it, not because he didn't want it, but because he thought it was impossible.

But when Rose had taken the news with such little surprise, it dawned on him that regardless of whether or not it was scientifically or genetically impossible, it was what was really natural and inevitable for them. Why should genetic compatibility matter to something that tasted vaguely like fate? Perhaps it was not fate. He had issues with the idea of fate…perhaps what he was tasting—what they were tasting—was the most compelling possibility for them. They may not have been fated to have a child, but in discovering Rose's pregnancy, they clung to that possibility as if it were the only one all along, that this was how they chose to write their lives.

Darkness fell over his thoughts. What if he didn't make it out of this? What if the Banlux succeeded? He was the Doctor, he wasn't omnipotent. They could hurt him

What if he never saw Rose again? What if he never saw their child? A fresh wave of panic overtook him. Knowing Rose was pregnant, that they were going to have a child to care for, made him feel acutely aware of his own mortality, even if his and Rose's version of it was considerably longer that what was considered average.

He found himself unable to wrench himself from his cell, where he had been secured by both his wrists and ankles onto what was essentially a slab straight out of a wildly misconstrued Frankenstein flick. He growled, his lips tearing about wildly. This is what it felt like to be helpless. He didn't have Rose by his side to help him or any friends around to speak of.

A growing metallic sound made its way down the corridor of the place where he was being held, wherever that was. He guessed it was underground, because he could make out no source of natural light.

In the darkness, somebody opened the cell door. A Banlux walked in, his metal soled shoes clicking against the hard ground.

"Do not be frightened, Doctor, there is no pain. But then, you probably aren't afraid of pain, are you? No, you are much too old and clever to fear pain. That is why we must assimilate you, Doctor. You will be a most excellent asset. You will make the Banlux even stronger, even more resilient."

The Doctor remained silent; the Banlux's words did not deserve a response.

"We have deprived you of your sight in this darkness. We have done this on purpose. When you see again, you will see as a Banlux sees. You will be one of us. But first we must monitor you vitals. It is said that Time Lords have two hearts. Is this true?"

The Doctor felt circular pads being placed all over his chest and head. He heard a machine ping.

"Ah, yes, it seems it is true. That is indeed very interesting. But what I have also wondered, Doctor, is if either of these two hearts has the ability to feel, or if they are as cold and blank as they are in the legends of the ancient Time Lords. Your people have all died off, I believe. That must be a terrible loss for you. Alone without a single being to attach yourself. No identity. Fear not, Doctor. When you become one of the Banlux, you will never be alone. We can heal your emptiness, Doctor. As a Banlux you will have a people. If your hard Time Lord heart will soften itself, perhaps you may one day feel our version of love."

The Doctor felt a pressure on his mind.

Yes, it told him, when you are a Banlux, you will have a people again. You will have a people, and you will love.

He struggled to fight it off, but it was exhausting. The pressure on his mind was making him forget things. He already loved something, he thought, but what is it? Why couldn't he think of it? He loves something passionately. No, he loves two things passionately…what are they? Why couldn't he think of them?

No, he was a Time Lord. He had nothing to love. His people were dead. There was nothing left for him. He was alone. He had nothing. But the Banlux, yes, they had something to offer if he could only be one of them. He could be a part of something again. He could feel something other than depletion again.

But wait, he thought, he was quite sure he had loved something before. At one time before. Maybe it was just in a brief moment.

"Do you feel it, Doctor?"

Who was this man and why was he calling him "Doctor"? He was a Banlux, not a Doctor.

Had he loved something before?

It was nagging at his mind. The word confused him. "Love"…it felt familiar. The concept felt close and intimate like an errant thought once close and suddenly forgotten. His body was growing cold and his hearts felt like they were slowing slightly.

What was it that he loved? His mind groped blindly in the darkness of his consciousness. All he could feel was Banlux. He was Banlux. But still, he felt a pulsating part of himself, wrapped in the corner of his mind. It felt. It was very specific and very much alive. That part of him was meant for someone else, because it belonged to someone else. Who did it belong to? His mind was losing its grip on the object in his mind. He couldn't concentrate. It pulsated less and less. He was slipping.

A/N: Reviews appreciated! Thanks for reading.