The Doctor looked up and grinned to see Donna walking in alone. "He went with Jamie, then?"

"Should have seen him!" Donna chuckled. "Sodden to the skin!"

"Still swearing, I'll wager?"

"And the Girl still isn't translating," Donna said as she moved to the console. "I think the poor thing's scandalised!" When the Doctor stopped laughing, she asked, "What d'you want me to do?"

"Help me get this panel off." As they worked, the Doctor grunted softly, "I remember this jumble of a console. Stranded and jerry-rigged... never knew what was going to malfunction and what was going to work – kidnapped by the Time Lords to do their bidding when they needed an agent."

"Sounds like a miserable time," she said.

He shrugged. "It had its moments. Given the choice, I'd always prefer to be free. I've too much of the nomad inside me to be stuck in one place for long."

"You do realise you've just cursed us to be stranded somewhere," Donna cracked, and laughed at his glare.

The Brigadier cleared his throat, reminding the Time Lord and Lady they were not alone. "Have you found anything yet?"

"Patience, Brigadier, we've just started," the Doctor said. "It's been quite a few lives ago that I've had to work with one so near the original Type 40 specs..."

"Let's get to it, then," Donna said as they finally got that stubbourn panel off. Her nose wrinkled with distaste. "I think we might have found something."

The Doctor moved to join her and she looked up at him. "This girl can't fly," she whispered. "She's crippled."

He nodded. "The Time Lords banished me to this time period and place, to try to get across to me how interference was not warranted. As it turned out, it taught them that a few judiciously placed meddling Time Lords could do much more good than staying in our Gallifreyan towers."

Donna's face darkened. "...do you think that's what led to the War?"

The Doctor shook his head, pushing ginger spikes away from his forehead as he blew the air out of his cheeks. "There's really no way to tell. But my personal theory is that the War would have happened anyway. The Daleks hated our people that much."

"And it was mutual," Donna whispered.

The Doctor squeezed her hand, then looked at the console. "...what in the..."

"I know," she growled. "Looks like a booby trap."

"That's exactly what it is. Triggered when he reached a certain level of getting her ready to fly again..." He drew out his sonic. "Let's see if we can't at least make it less dangerous before the little hobo comes back in." He pointed it and it warbled.

The booby trap lit like a Christmas tree and began to spark.

Benton gasped, his hand flying to his head as his knees buckled.

The intercom flared to life with Doctor Sullivan's alarmed voice. "Medical alert, medical alert! Doctors Noble to the infirmary! Doctors Noble to the infirmary!"

Donna keyed the intercom. "Donna here, Harry, what is it?"

"It's the Doctor!" he gasped. "He's seizing!"