Sprawled on the glass floor was a girl, dressed in torn and burnt clothing, barefoot, her hair tousled, wild. She was unconscious.

The Doctor was astonished.

"What?" he cried. "What? But how? How did she get in?"

The TARDIS nudged him. Look at her. Listen to her.

He did, and his eyes widened.

"No…."

He knelt beside her, and placed a hand on her chest.

"Two," he breathed. "She…"

He laughed joyfully, and ran to his jacket, extracting the sonic screwdriver. He moved it over the girl's body, and glanced at the readings.

"She is," he whispered. "Oh, Rassilon. She really is."

He pocketed the screwdriver and lifted her in his arms. Her long curly ginger hair draped over his arm, and he took her to his room, where he lay her gently on the four-poster.

Now, this was unusual. He rarely let anyone in his private chambers, and yet here he was putting a complete stranger in his bed. He didn't know her. Not her name, her personality, her face.

But he trusted her instantly. She was the one who had called out to him for help.

Never could resist a cry for help, he thought wryly, as he watched her lie there. And now look where it's got me.

He sat beside him, close, but restrained, and let his gaze wander over her. He'd felt the urge to dress her in something cleaner, to give her something more comfortable to sleep in, but propriety held him back. I'd be pretty put out myself if I woke up to some stranger undressing me.

A wry smile formed as he studied her. Oh, but Rassilon, she is beautiful. Tiny, but perfectly formed. Pale skin, petite hands, feet. And that hair… flaming ringlets that frame her face.

No, he thought hastily, restraining himself like he always did. No, I can't. I always lose them. I can't ever do that. Not again. Rose, Reinette… lost.

He wanted to wake her up, to find out her name. Oh, not just her name. I want to know her everything. He wouldn't though. Neither would he explore the folds of her mind. That would not do, though how he was tempted, so, so curious.

Temptation again. So where's the trouble?

Her chest suddenly heaved, and his eyes dilated as he watched a swirl of gold billow from her mouth.

"So that's why you're sleeping," he mused. His lips curved. "How old must you be, I wonder?"

He couldn't stop the excitement that raced through his soul, that lit his very essence. A quiet laugh escaped his lips, and he looked up at the ceiling, grinning as wide as he could. Were it not for the fact that he didn't want to leave her, he would have dashed round the TARDIS, yelling his joy. He could feel his beloved machine's happiness mingle with his own, and their shared exhilaration was almost too much for his hearts to take.

Almost. Not quite.

You knew of this, didn't you? Oh, you knew. He smiled, and the TARDIS enveloped him in a blanket of love.

Thank you, dear, he whispered.

His hand reached out and touched a curl that had fallen over her face, gently easing it back over the pillows. Better.

His mind wandered to Amy and Rory, and guilt crept in, hung at the edges of his mind. He shook his head.

I live in a time machine. They don't have to know how long I was… will be gone for.

His gaze rested on the sleeping woman, and the guilt instantly vanished.

No. All I care about, right now, is her. Am I being selfish? Probably. I've gone so long without indulgence I doubt I'd recognise selfishness if it hit me in the face.

A memory of a cricket bat resurfaced, and he rubbed his jaw ruefully. What a day that had been…

The girl suddenly stirred, and his eyes snapped to her face.

Slowly, she blinked – oh, her eyes are exquisite, so clear and oceanic! – and in a language that was joyfully familiar to him, she spoke.

"Who are you?"

He smiled, replied in kind. "I'm the Doctor. I –"

He got no further, because she had sat up and seized his hands, her eyes blazing.

"You are he." Her hands pressed to his chest, and she smiled tearfully. "It is you. I thought… I thought… that you wouldn't… I didn't know…"

"Easy," he soothed, for once restraining his incessant babbling that was his personal tendency. "Why don't we start with who you are?"

She looked down, a faint blush staining her alabaster cheeks; this he rather liked.

"I… I do not know," she admitted, flushing. Gently, he touched her chin, tilted her head up to look into her eyes.

"Not even your name?" he pushed.

"Ondine," she whispered. "I know that. But who I am…" She trembled. "I don't even know why I grabbed you like that. Something forced those words out of me. I'm sorry."

Ondine. A delicious name. Yet she has no idea what she is, who she is.

"Don't apologise," he said softly, a smile quirking the corners of his lips. "I understand completely. Regeneration can do this to you."

A delicate eyebrow creased. "Regeneration… oh!" Her eyes went wide. "I'm a Time Lord…"

"Yes," he confirmed, secretly glad he wouldn't have to explain all that. Nightmare. "You are speaking Gallifreyan, after all."

"And… you understand me! Then you –"

"Also a Time Lord. Supposedly the last, though now, it seems that statement must be corrected." His grin was teasing, and Ondine felt her mouth curve in response.

"I'm sorry that I can't tell you anymore," she said quietly. "Believe me, I wish I could remember."

"You will," he soothed her. "We always do, Ondine. Now," he touched her hand gently, "I expect you'll be wanting a bath of some sorts, and some… clothes." He flushed a little as he said this, and she laughed.

"Yes, please."

He held out his hand, and she took it as she rose off the bed. She stared at the room.

"Yours?" she guessed, her eyes flickering. He nodded.

"Mine. I'd say welcome to my humble abode, but that's terribly cliché and to be honest, she's not humble."

Her eyes sparkled, and her laughter rang through him like silver bells.

"I'm sure she's lovely, Doctor. We are in your TARDIS, I presume?"

"Right in one." He whirled round. "Bathroom's through there, wardrobe is… oh, she's moved it because I annoyed her. I'm sure it'll turn up, she likes you. When you're done, she'll guide you to wherever I am. Unless you'd prefer to eat something? There is a kitchen, I can cook you whatever you'd like, really, I –"

He paused. Ondine was smiling, her shyness lessened in lieu of his – oh, no – his babbling.

Not again.

He slapped a hand over his face. "I always do this. Sorry, sorry. I'll just leave you to it."

He exited without looking back, and he was sure he could hear the TARDIS laughing.

Ondine sighed, and fell back against his bed. She laughed, a soft sound of relief.

She felt something brush at her mind, and her eyes locked on the ceiling.

TARDIS?

A warm hum answered her. She smiled.

Hello. Is he always so… busy?

Amusement flickered at the fringes of her thoughts, and she laughed again.

I see.

She rose, elegant despite her bedraggled appearance, and glanced at the bathroom door.

Yes.

She wasted no time in running a hot, luxurious shower which loosened her muscles and soothed her uptight body. She stayed there even after she was clean, just enjoying the rhythm of the streaming water. She didn't know how long it had been since she was so relaxed, but she guessed it had been a while. Hardly a pleasing thought.

She stepped out of the shower to find a large white towel hanging on a hook. Quickly she dried herself, and after dressing herself in the undergarments she found on the counter, she opened her mind.

Where's the wardrobe, TARDIS?

She felt a psychic tug. She let it pull her through the bathroom door and through another entrance.

Her eyes widened.

Three floors? Three?

Her gaze wandered over all of it, taking in every rack, every rail of clothing. Clothing from every planet, from every period in time.

She giggled, and hurried down the steps to the nearest rack.

The Doctor ran his fingers along the edge of the console, smiling. His euphoria was still very much present; he doubted it would fade for a very long time. Questions of each kind ran through his brain, and his eagerness to have them answered intensified as adrenaline pulsed through him.

Ondine. Ondine. Ondine.

And, right out of the blue, he sensed her. He whirled round, and a grin played with his mouth as he drank her in.

"Hello."

Her answering smile was shy. "Hello."

Her clothing suits her. Far too well. No, no, stop. Don't think that.

She was dressed in an icy blue, satin-esque button-less shirt with bell sleeves, and slim black jeans with knee-high buckled black boots. Her glossy chestnut hair was curling about her shoulders, and her piercing azure eyes captivated him.

A flaming beacon. Oh, this is just not fair. He rubbed his jaw.

"Would you like something to eat?"

At least that was coherent.

"If it's no trouble," she replied quietly.

"No trouble at all," he assured her. He held out his hand. "Let's go."

Five minutes later, she was sat at a table opposite him, a plate of omelette in front of her. She ate, and a delicious warmth enveloped her.

"It's good," she declared happily, taking another bite. He watched her appreciatively.

"I'm glad you like it," was all he said, transfixed by her. She tilted her head.

"Won't you have anything?"

He shook his head. "No, but thank you. I'm not hungry."

At least, not for food.

No!

He forced that darker side of him to withdraw, to bury itself. Not worth the risk. Not now. Not ever.

"So, Ondine… what's on the agenda for today?"

She abruptly felt mischievous, and her eyes glinted.

"Why, have you planned anything?"

He had to laugh. "I'm afraid not. Sorry to disappoint you there. But there are plenty of places we can go. Nothing like being spontaneous. Up for it?"

A rueful smile graced her lips. "Doctor… would you mind if I rested today? I still don't feel… me. I don't remember a lot, and it confuses me."

"Oh! Of course I don't mind. Not at all." How could I forget that? "You haven't remembered anything more?"

"No." Anguish crossed her features, only to be replaced by neutrality. "I haven't."

He reached across the table to take her petite hands in his.

"Don't fret, my dear. It will come back to you in time."

Ondine suddenly plunged into recall.

Fires… fires everywhere.

Dying, all dying.

Him, the Master, dragging them in, pulling them back, further and further –

"Ondine!"

He yanked her back into reality, and she stared at him, horrified.

"I'm sorry," she blurted, backing away so fast she knocked her chair over. "I'm so sorry."

Concern creased his brow. "Ondine? What is it?"

She shook her head, her lip trembling.

"Forgive me, I –"

She turned, and fled.

He stared, nonplussed.

What happened to her?

Without thinking, he ran after her.

What has she done?

A/N: Yes, what has she done? -evil grin- you'll find out soon enough, lovelies, don't you worry. Meanwhile, buckets full of love to all you new alerters and reviewers! Hugs to you all - hugs cause I've run out of fish custard, sorry.

Please, please review! Even if it's criticism, all reviews are highly appreciated! You just know that hyperlink is calling to you :D

Lightning xoxo

Also - do I have to put a disclaimer at the beginning of each chapter? Several stories I've read have them - is it compulsory? Cause I think it's obvious the Doctor ain't mine... though gosh how I'd love him to be ;)