The Doctor was almost giddy as he walked back to his suite. The grin on his face matched the sparkle in his eyes: all thanks to the joy of doing something entirely new. This was the first time in his long existence that he was in a hotel, in 1858, carrying a heavily laden breakfast tray back to a woman in his suite. The hotel chef loaded the tray with two plates filled with ham and eggs, griddle cakes and something he called grits, toast plus two cups and a pot of tea. He wasn't too sure about the glob of white stuff, but felt adventurous when the waitress made the suggestion. He'd almost made it back to the room when he spotted the lanky frame of Samuel sitting on the settee a short distance from his door. He was sure that he wasn't there when he'd left to get breakfast.

"Hey Doc," Sam flashed a knowing smile at his boss.

"Right -you weren't there earlier. I'm pretty sure that I would have noticed." The Doctor tried not to look annoyed.

"Had to take a little side trip," he answered as he stood up.

"No - wait: why are you outside my door? You don't look upset so there can't be anything wrong - so..."

"Simmons was downstairs last night, so I moved up here - just to be safe. Management isn't happy, though. Let me get that door for you." Samuel grinned as he nodded toward the door

"Right, okay," the Doctor said nervously as he backed up to let Sam open the door. Once he was in the room and the door closed, he let out a nervous chuckle. For a second, he'd been afraid the man would want to chat. No sound came from behind the bedroom door. The silence meant Donna was still asleep.

Juggling the tray was no issue thanks to his superior reflexes. He balanced the tray like a waiter and quietly turned the doorknob. The sight of Donna's still sleeping form took his breath away. He barely made a sound as he set the tray on the bedside table and sat on the edge of the bed. First one slipper and then the next flew across the room as he kicked them toward the dressing chair. The thought of climbing under the covers for a quick cuddle with his still sleeping companion made him giggle.

I feel like some randy kid, he thought. So much more than a companion now. You were simply amazing last night - sealed a brand new union in several remarkable ways.

With a feather light touch, he gently pushed her coppery, red hair away from her face. Her lips twitched into a half-smile in her sleep. Her relaxed, contented expression sent a rush of love through him . She was dreaming. This was new. Usually, she was the one watching him dream. As he watched her eyes moved under her lids, he considered entering her mind to see just what was making her smile. Sometimes, like now, the fear of getting smacked was unquestionably the better part of valour.

"Hey sleepy head," he murmured gently, "I have breakfast." He placed a light kiss on her temple to wake her up.

Donna rolled over, blinking sleepily as reality replaced her dream. "Hey you sexy beast," she teased, "how long have you been up?"

"About an hour. I slept like a newborn baby last night." His grin was more of a seductive leer as he waggled his eyebrows at her. "Can't imagine what could have tired me out so much?"

"Was a night, wasn't it? Fancy a repeat?" She chuckled.

"Breakfast first. Might need protein to replace all that energy we burned." He winked. "Sit up," he ordered after kissing her forehead and backed away as she rearranged herself. This was a second first, he'd never served her breakfast in bed.

"What's the white stuff with gravy?" She looked up as she pulled a face.

"Something called grits and red-eyed gravy made from ham drippings," he answered knowingly. "At least, that's what the waitress said. He sat next to her and took a plate. Two bites in, they both switched to their tea and then the eggs. "Tasted like glue," she noted, "like porridge on a bad day."

"You'll never guess where Samuel spent the night?" The Doctor said as he swallowed his tea.

"Where?"

"Out in the hall. The management threatened to call the police, and he told them to stuff it."

"Your kidding - why?"

"Simmons is in the hotel. Donna..." Concern filled his voice.

"No," she answered the unspoken request.

"It will be safer," he said matter-of-factly.

"Yes and boring. We do this together, just like we planned."

The Doctor grinned. "You are, as always, bloody brilliant."

o0o

Samuel Stephens sat with his long, lanky frame stretched out almost comfortably in one of the few chairs meant for a man. He was on his third cup of coffee when he spotted the Nobles entering the crowded lobby looking particularly pleased with themselves. They were both laughing as they made their way towards him. Despite his exhaustion, their obvious happiness immediately put him in a good mood. He couldn't resist his own broad grin at the thought that they had just spent a repeat of their night.

Hey, Doc - ma'am." The knowing look on his face sent Donna scarlet with embarrassment.

"Good morning, Samuel," the Doctor responded brightly.

Samuel swallowed his laugh at the sight of his boss' very pleased expression. These two definitely just had an incredibly happy repeat of their night. He hated to ruin it, but gave them an update anyway. "Eb and Tripp are outside with the wagon and your carriage. Before we go, you need to know Thomas and Will spent the night in leg-irons."

There was no mistaking the glint of anger in the Doctor's eyes or the wave of revulsion on his face. "Why?" was his only rage filled question.

"Now before you go off, it was their idea. Thomas insisted, in case slavers came through the sheds hunting runaways that might try hiding in plain sight. He told Eb and Tripp that had to look like everyone else. He hid the chains under his seat so you wouldn't see."

"Why, does everybody think that I need protecting," he snapped and then dropped his voice. "This is my plan, and I need to know if there is a risk that it's going to fall apart."

"Don't yell at me; I'm the one who camped outside your door watching for Simmons and his bunch all night," Sam said defensively. "Those two black boys have got it in their heads that you need defended. I'm just the messenger."

"Don't call them boys; their men," the Doctor growled and then drew a deep breath. "Sorry, I shouldn't have gotten angry."

"Boss," Sam spoke just above a whisper. "those men see you as their salvation; they just don't want anything to happen and you can't blame them.

"I don't, let's get this show on the road." He sound apologetic.

Bright sunshine greeted them as the three walked out to meet Thomas and Will standing by the buckboard and carriage. The two black men looked surprisingly happy after spending the night sleeping in chains.

Mornin', Boss." Thomas tipped his straw hat. "We got everything ready. Mr Tripp, he bought a basket of sandwiches for the new folks. Got 'em tucked under the wagon seat," the man spoke with deferential gratitude toward Tripp.

"Well, let's get this show on the road," the Doctor smacked his hands together. Minutes later, Will navigated the carriage through the crowded streets toward Chalmers street and the slave mart. They arrived on the north side of the Exchange where full slave pens were visible. Men and women sat or stood huddled against the dampness. Donna clutched the Doctor's hand with a death grip as they passed people wearing iron collars with prongs or bells attached. Donna spotted a woman with an iron dog collar and some sort of metal mouth guard that prevented her from being able to drink. The look of agony on her face sent a wave of shock through Donna as she glanced at the Doctor with a look of complete horror etched in her face.

"It's supposed to prevent them from running away. The prongs catch on the bushes, and the bells single their location," he explained without a trace of emotion in his voice.

Before she could ask about the mouth guard, Will pulled the team to a halt in front of the inspection pens.

"Head for the exit, Will. You and Thomas can wait there for everyone, okay?" The Doctor ordered as he helped Donna down. "Eb will watch out for you.

"Yes, Boss," the young man answered and clucked to the horses. The Doctor could only hope there would be no trouble as he watched Eb keep pace with the wagon.

"Allons-y," he quipped as he took Donna by the waist and with Samuel and Tripp close behind, they headed for the complex of three buildings that housed slaves.

With auction starting in less than an hour, The Doctor and Donna joined the throng of buyers and sellers looking to buy or sell what they perceived as livestock. It was difficult to imagine, but time wise, two months had passed since the day that he'd first made plans for this rescue. His hearts pounded with the anticipation at the idea of getting these folks at least started on the road home.

With his arm around firmly Donna's waist and with Tripp and Samuel close behind the Doctor led them to the inspection pens. Every face from his original visit was indelibly etched in his memory. He intended to obtain every single individual on his list without the humans any wiser. When he had them, he would try to help a few of the human slaves. What he truly wanted was to shut the whole damn thing down. But he couldn't. This mess had its own timeline, and there was nothing that he could do to change that.

Then he saw the Aurelian girl, frightened and shivering, standing next a heavily pregnant woman with empty eyes. He stood as close as possible and whispered to the girl in Aurelian, "I'm taking you home." She turned to meet his eyes and almost spoke, but he shook his head. The roar around him faded away as he focused on the girl. He barely heard Donna talking to the overseer.

"Why is she for sale? She looks like a good breeder, what's wrong with her?" Only he could hear the disgust in her voice, but this was a con and he knew she would play her part.

"The owner died, the family is selling everything," the guard answered.

He felt Donna tug on his arm. The conversation came back in focus when he glanced at her, .

"Does she have any other children with her?" Donna finished.

A look of hope sprang to the woman's eyes.

"Yes ma'am," the guard answered, "she has two fine young bucks and a future breeder."

Doctor?"

He smiled tenderly and nodded. They both turned to look at the woman wanting desperately to tell her that everything would be okay, but instead they moved on to finish this so-called inspection. When they escaped the oppressive building they made their way to the auctioneer table to register, give the officials their letter of credit and the required deposit. So far the list was up to twenty-one counting the family and the woman with the mouth guard.

o0o

"How many have we won, Doc?"

"Everyone that we've bidden on, so far it makes fourteen, They're taking a break, and I need to stretch," He said as he stood up. The difficult and long morning left them both a bit shell-shocked. They had not factored in their emotional cost into this venture. The look of pain on his face matched Donna's.

Donna rose from her seat. "I'll come with you." His disgust was clear to her, but well hid from anyone that didn't know him. This was another venture whose effect would be shoved behind walls.

"No, I'm going to see if I can get the others up on the block, and then we can get out of here. I'll be quick. Sam, stay with her, okay?" He squeezed her hand gently.

"I'm not a child, Dumbo," she called after his disappearing back.

The Doctor headed for the breezeway between the slave jail and the pens. As he reached the cobblestone path, he saw the broad shoulders of Thomas leaving the other end of the hall. He couldn't see Eb or Will which notched up his level of concern. The smells of the pens drifted toward him making the need to get out in the open even more urgent. He passed under the first brick archway unaware that four men were following him. When he reached the second archway a cough startled him, and he slowed his pace. He wasn't ready for the pair of hands that came out of nowhere pulling him into the shadows. "Hello, Doctor." Simmons growled.

"Mr Simmons; Samuel said that you were in town. How's your business working out for you?"

"How much money you got left, Doctor Noble," the man sneered.

"Well, not that it's your business but none with me. I'm not very good with money: what do you want Mr Simmons?"

"We think that you're hiding three runaways out at that place of your'n. You drop out of nowhere, start gatherin' up slaves and they're livin' high, better'n then some whites that are their betters." The man was barely a hands width from the Doctor's face as he spewed his hatred.

"Well-fed, well cared for stock work better than half-starved, half dead ones. How I treat them, is none of your business. Don't test me Simmons! I am a peaceful man, but I don't like threats!"

Without bothering to respond, Simmons sent fist into the Doctor's gut knocking the wind out of him and sending him to his knees. "Did your mother teach you to punch like that?" the Doctor gasped. "Not much heft behind it."

Simmons' compatriots hauled him back to his feet. "Where's your money, funny man?" Simmons whispered threateningly in his ear.

"I literally have no idea: Bank of London, Charleston National, my ship; like I said - I am rubbish when it comes to money."

"Well then," Simmons snarled as he sent his fist into the Doctor's face, "guess we'll have to ask the Missus, huh."

The two thugs holding him weren't ready for the Doctor when he snarled an oath, lurched forward and head-butted Simmons in the face. The man came back up with blood pouring from his nose. "Hold this bastard!"

Simmons sent first one and then another fist into the Doctor's face. As he sagged under the blows, he saw a pair of black hands reach for the man holding him, sending him across the cobblestone path. The sound of a gunshot echoed through the pens followed by Thomas crumpling next to the Doctor. As blackness threatened to take him, Simmons' powerful kicks to his ribs, propelled him into the hallway away from Thomas.

A hand lifted him by his hair and a raspy, alcohol scented voice breathed heavily against his ear, "I think; I'll go see how a redhead tastes you British scum-sucking nigger lover." A last kick struck and then his hand exploded with pain as a foot slammed down. All he could hear were rapidly departing boots striking the cobblestones.

The Doctor sucked air into his burning lungs and began a slow crawl back to Thomas. He struggled against new hands that prevented him from reaching the inert man. "Doc, it's okay, I've got you," Sam reassured him.

"Thomas," the Doctor groaned as he struggled to reach Thomas' still form. "They killed Thomas."

Samuel looked over at Tripp who shook his head, "he's alive, bullet looks like it when through. I think, he hit his head on the way down."

All the Doctor heard was an ever-increasing crowd of strange voices and feet surrounding him. He desperately clutched Samuel's shirt. "Donna... Simmons - they are going after Donna."

"She's safe, I sent Eb to stay with her when you didn't come back. Somebody get a doctor down here!"

"Donna," the Doctor moaned against Sam, "protect my Donna," he moaned again as he gave in to the darkness.

o0o

"What the bloody hell happened?" Donna raged at the constable who appeared at her side only moments before.

"We're not sure Mrs Noble. All I know is that he someone attacked him, and shot your slave when he tried to protect him."

She pushed her way through the crowded entrance to the breezeway. "Get out of my way," she pushed past an overweight woman obstructing her path. The constable, Eb and Will were right behind her. Donna could hear the epithets thrown at Will as he followed and she whirled, screaming angrily at the crowd to shut up and back off. She reached and pulled Will through.

When they reached the centre of the breezeway, Donna nearly went to her knees. She barely felt the constable and Eb steadying her. Laid out in front of her was the source of her greatest fear. The Doctor lay on the ground with his head in Sam's lap and his leg bent under as a nineteenth century doctor worked to stabilise his fractured hand. Thomas was leaning against a brick post, ashen but awake. The look on his face was a mixture of pain and utter shame.

"Miss Donna, I'm sorry," he said weakly when he saw her. "I was movin' the team, and I didn't seem 'em 'till it was too late."

"It's alright Thomas," Donna said tightly as she dropped beside the Doctor."How bad is it?" she asked the doctor as he finished strapping the splint.

"Are you his wife?"

"No, you bloody fool, I'm the damn maid. Of course, I am. Answer my question."

"Well madam, he's got a concussion," the man sounded offended, "and probably some broken ribs. I won't know until I can do a proper exam. They stomped his hand, breaking his wrist and hand. The punches to his face broke his nose. That's why he has so much blood on his face. I've called for a stretcher."

"What about Thomas?"

"Who's Thomas?" the doctor looked confused.

"The man leaning against the post, you twit."

"Your slave? I don't take care of slaves," he answered sounding disgusted.

"Samuel, what about Thomas?"

"He's lost some blood, but he'll be okay."

Donna reached under the edge of her bodice and brought out a money wrap and thrust it into Samuel's hand along with the sketches the Doctor had left with her. "Seven are on the list. Make sure we get these seven," she ordered. "Get Thomas help, and then meet us at -" Donna looked at the doctor.

"Roper Hospital on Queen and Logan," he answered curtly. "They can take your man to the coloured side."

The sound of hooves clicking on the cobblestones shifted their attention to the enclosed black wagon. "Careful," the doctor ordered the men who were sliding his patient on the stretcher.

As Donna moved to follow, she turned back to look at Sam and the constable and spoke with rage in her voice. "You find Simmons and the bunch of pigs who did this. Samuel, keep his trust."

"Yes ma'am." Samuel nodded "I will make him proud."

As the wagon pulled off, the constable glanced over at Samuel, "I have a feeling Matt Simmons and his bunch are in for a world of hurt from that feisty redhead."

"You have no idea," Sam said grimly.