Doctor Who (c) BBC

Mickey sat with his back to the bars, facing the only wall in the cell. He had found a small rubber ball in the pocket of his jacket, and had spent the last twenty minutes throwing it at the wall, letting it bounce, and catching it again. In the adjacent cell, Rose was getting increasingly irritated.

The cells were five foot by seven – she had spent a few minutes pacing it out, for lack of anything else to do – and three of the sides were made from thick bars set into the concrete floor. The fourth side was formed from the wall of the prison, and was rough stone. There was a small window – no bigger than six inches square – but it was above her head, so she couldn't even look out. There was a bucket, and a blanket in the corner, but no bed. Rose sat by the wall below the window, in what little shade there was, but even so the heat was oppressive. Her jeans and T-shirt were damp with sweat, and blonde hair stuck to her forehead. Her mouth was unbearably dry, but none of them had been given a drink since they had arrived.

Rose didn't know how long they had been there. Here mobile phone, along with her sense of time, had been confiscated. Hunt held it gingerly, as if he thought it would explode or cast a spell on him, before dropping it into a desk drawer. Amidst the confusion, Rose couldn't help thinking that it would be interesting to see his reaction if someone tried to ring her.

They had been brought in and questioned brusquely by Hunt for ten minutes, but he quickly decided that they weren't going to tell him anything. He ignored Rose's protests of innocence. He, along with the townspeople who came in every so often, had accepted her as a witch and duly detested her. Rose was unused to being disliked by so many people, and didn't like it one bit.

He's left you, you know, a voice whispered in her head.

"What?" she said loudly, head snapping up and round. The monkey was crouched a few feet in front of her, staring intently.

"I didn't say anything," said Mickey, without pausing in his game. The ball hit the wall again.

"Sorry," she mumbled, looking back to the monkey.

What? Rose thought tentatively, and the monkey grinned in response. She felt a sudden surge of pride that could have belonged to either one of them.

The Doctor. He's not coming back for you.

Of course he is, Rose argued silently. Why wouldn't he?

Without giving the creature time to argue, Rose pushed herself to her feet. Leaving the relative comfort of the shade, she stood up and made her way to the bars. Craning her neck between them, she could see the length of the room and into the next one through a wide doorway. She saw a table, and sitting behind it was Andrew Hunt, reading something that looked like a newspaper made of heavy paper or parchment. Rose didn't know if he could see her or not, but as she was gathering enough saliva to speak, he raised something to his lips. It was a ceramic mug. He drank deeply, throat convulsing with each swallow; Rose's gazed at it longingly. As Hunt lowered the mug, she saw her chance.

"Oi!" she shouted hoarsely. He didn't seem to have heard, so she tried again. "Hey, we're roasting in here! Aren't you even gonna offer us a drink?"

Without taking his eyes off the newspaper, Hunt lifted the mug, held it at arm's length, and slowly upended it. Rose watched silently as the precious water splashed to the floor and was quickly absorbed into the thirsty floor. The heat seemed to press down on her as she watched it disappear, heart sinking. Hunt replaced the mug on his desk and turned a page, as if nothing had happened.

That went well, the monkey remarked dryly.

You can shut up.

Rose was about to admit defeat and take up her position against the wall, but a noise made her pause, half-turned away from the bars.

"Psst."

Rose looked sideways at Mickey, but he didn't move except for the repetitive flick of his wrist.

"Psst!" it came again. Rose quickly looked around. Tituba slumped against the wall in the cell opposite, silent. She didn't raise her head as Rose's gaze swept past her to Mickey's, and then to the cell on the other side of her own. At first glance, it looked empty. Then something moved in the shadows – what she had taken as a pile of dirty rags piled in the shadows.

Intrigued, Rose pressed herself against the bars, trying to get closer to see clearly. After a moment, a figure disentangled itself from the pile and stood, moving into the patch of sunlight cast from Rose's window.

It was a woman, an incredibly old, worn, stooped woman. She looked at least eighty, and Rose was horrified at how thin and ill she looked. She couldn't believe that the police could live with themselves after putting someone's grandmother or mother in jail like an animal. The woman's face was scored with deep wrinkles, and she shuffled forwards as if in pain. One bony hand held her rags about her, the other reached out to Rose through the bars. Held in the withered, crippled claw was a leather bag stopped with a lump of cork. It was pushed towards Rose as far as the arm would stretch, and Rose automatically moved to retrieve it. The crone's hand trembled with the effort, and the sound of sloshing water could be heard. Mickey was on his feet in a second, but Rose drew her hand away, guilt drowning out the voice in her head that was threatening to kill her if she refused.

"Take it," ordered the cracked voice. Rose hesitated, and then shook her head, cursing herself inwardly for being such a nice person.

"I can't."

"I'm not asking," said the crone. Her voice broke, as if she wasn't used to speaking. "Take it, child. Your need is greater than mine."

Go on. At first Rose thought the voice came from inside her, but then the monkey sprang to her shoulder in one bound. She has no more need for it.

She would have argued, or asked what he meant, but the temptation was too great. Rose grabbed the bottle and raised it to her lips. The water that cascaded down her throat was warm and bitter, but Rose didn't care. She drank deeply, until her sore throat and scorched lungs were soothed. Then she passed the flask through the railings to Mickey, who snatched it and gulped down another third. He had to force himself to stop, seal the bag, and toss it to Tituba. The soft flask hit the ground beside her, startling the slave from her daze. She looked at Mickey as if looking for permission, unused to having anyone share with her, and then scrabbled for the water. As she drank, Rose looked for the old lady, who had retreated back into her corner.

"Who are you?" she asked. There was no answer, so she tried again. "I'm Rose Tyler. Thank you for the water. What's your name?"

"My name is Sarah Osborne." was the reply, and then the woman paused. Rose got the feeling she was supposed to say something.

"Um…"

"Aren't you going to introduce me to your companion?"

"Oh, sorry." Rose waved a hand at Mickey. "This is my friend Mickey Smith. He's –"

"Not that one," Sarah Osborne's interrupted softly, but even so, it sent a chill through Rose, and the hairs stood up on the back of her neck. She could swear the old woman was staring at the monkey on her shoulder.

"Wh – what?" Rose didn't have to feign ignorance; it was all too real. She had assumed that nobody else could see the monkey. "What do you mean?"

All at once, there was a flash of menace in the old crone's face. "Don't mess with me, girl." she snapped. "Now, tell me the truth. What has that thing been whispering?"

"Rose, what's she talking about?" Mickey asked. He was leaning against the bars, face clouded with confusion. Rose did her best to ignore him.

"Nothing…it's not been saying anything."

"I said the truth!" the old woman snarled. Her face darkened, and she seemed to grow taller with rage. "That thing's tricks put me in this place. It's evil!"

"What…"

Lies! shouted the monkey. All lies!

"You little –" Sarah made a grab for it across the jail room, but the cages were too far apart. Rose took an automatic step backwards away from her clawing hands. The monkey was hissing angrily.

"What? What did he do?" Rose cried. Sarah Osborne's face was livid in the sunlight.

"I'll tell you what it did! It ruined my life! It condemned me! I'm going to hang!" Sarah gave up, and sagged against the bars, worn out. "That monkey –"

She never finished. Sarah's eyes suddenly widened, and she grabbed her throat. A choking noise bubbled through her lips, before she pitched over backwards. There was a sickening crunch as her weak bones splintered. Mickey cried out, and Rose covered her mouth with her hands to hold in a scream. Sarah lay twitching horribly for a few moments, one hand clawing at her neck, the other racked with spasms at the end of a writhing arm. Her eyes rolled up into her head, and her mouth opened, an unearthly scream issuing forth.

Then she was still.

"Oh my God." Rose breathed. Her head was spinning, and there was a bitter taste in her mouth. Then fury overcame her. She rounded on the monkey, grabbing it from her shoulder and hurling it away. It scrambled into the corner and crouched, hissing in resentment.

"Was that you? How dare you!" she yelled, tears pricking her eyes.

"Was what me? How could it be me?" Mickey stared at his friend in confusion. She seemed to be yelling at thin air. "Rose…she's dead."

Then he came to his senses and rushed to the door of his cage. He stuck an arm through it and waved, trying to get Hunt's attention.

"Hey!" he hollered. "Hey, we need help in here!"

But the police officer was already on his feet, drawn by the screams. He burst through the doorway. His eyes fell on the dead form of Sarah Osborne, Tituba, who was huddled in tears, Mickey, and Rose. They stayed on Rose.

"What did you do?" he snarled. She had no time to protest. The monkey flashed past her and was between the bars in an instant. It dived towards Tituba, who saw it coming but couldn't stop it. It landed before her, and hissed again, low and menacing. Rose saw the slave-girl's eyes widen and darken to almost black, just like the first time they had met.

"No…" she whispered, knowing what was going to happen.

"It was her," the girl whispered, pointing at the blonde. "I saw her. She bewitched Sarah." A moment later her eyes became clear green once more and she shook her head slightly, wondering what she had just said. To Hunt, though, it was all the proof required. He unhooked the keys from his belt and unlocked the door to Rose's cell as quickly as he could.

Rose stumbled away and grabbed Mickey's hands through the bars. "It's OK," she said. "The Doctor will find me, it'll be OK." Mickey had time to squeeze her hands for good luck, and then Hunt reached her and dragged her backwards away from him.

"Right, that was your last chance." he said, grabbing hold of her arm and pulling her out of the cell.

"Wait – where are you taking her?" Mickey tried to ask, but his friend was already being hauled out of the prison.

"Where do you think?" Hunt threw over his shoulder. "She's a witch. She had the chance of a trial, but now she's a danger to society. Hanging is the only option."

"What? Hanging?" Mickey couldn't believe his ears. Rose was trying to fight against the man, but he was too strong, and just like last time, she was powerless against him.

"No, you can't –" Rose shook her arm, trying to free herself, but Hunt tugged her sharply so she stumbled.

"Yes I can, Witch," he hissed. "It is my duty to protect this town, and the only way to do that is to make sure you hang."