A/N: It's a little shorter than usual, but you'll understand why the temptation to end on this scene was a little too much for me to cope with...

Chapter 11 – Rosie

Leah and Alex had spent the next month reading up on various insecticides detailed in a menagerie of books in the library, before finally settling on one called Rastinate. They had then gone to the chemistry labs to make it.

The process was long and arduous, and exceptionally dangerous. The adults in the TARDIS, desperate to employ some sort of control over the situation, had tried to supervise like teachers but had ended up being mostly redundant. It quickly became apparent to them as things exploded and melted that the two toddlers had far more knowledge of procedure and safety in the lab than they could ever dream of having. It was almost beyond belief how capable they were. They had known the children were intelligent and their father had taught them well, but to what degree he had seemingly prepared them for this was astonishing.

After four weeks of gruelling work they had made and tested it. They packed it into aerosol cans as well as smoke bombs, and loaded them all into backpacks. They were ready.

'Prisoner, you will now be released from aversion therapy.'

The bonds holding the Doctor slackened, but he barely registered them. His head felt like foam. All he could do was sit there with his eyes closed, listening to the sound of his own breathing as his respiratory bypass switched off for about the thousandth time leaving him even weaker than before.

His wrists were stinging badly, as were his ankles. His chest barely seemed to have enough room left to contain his lungs. He was marginally aware he was sitting in a chair, but that was it. He'd lost track of time, of where he was, and what was happening to him.

Doctor?

The Doctor smiled lazily at the voice. 'Oh, Rose. Hi, Rose. Rosie, Rose.'

Hello.

His eyelids drooped, ready to fall asleep…

No, Doctor. Stay with me.

'Why?' he moaned, not moving.

Cos if you go to sleep I'm gonna be all alone.

'Oh.'

Don't wanna leave me on my own, do you?

'No.'

So come on, open your eyes.

He did, blinking slightly. The world around him was exceptionally blurry – colours merging into one another, objects lost of form and focus. The only thing he could see was his wrists, which both had cuts around where the restraints were resting.

'Imma bleeding,' he slurred. 'Rose, imma bleeding.'

It's just a few cuts, you're fine.

'I'm so tired,' he muttered, his eyelids drooping again…

Hey Doctor, do you wanna play a game?

He giggled, waking up slightly. 'I love games.'

Yeah I know you do. Let's play one right now, yeah? It'll be fun.

'What're the rules?'

You have to stay on your feet for as long as you can.

He frowned. 'Don't wanna play. My feet hurt.'

The longer you stay up the more you win, yeah?

He paused, thinking about that. 'What do I win?'

You'll find out when you're finished.

'But I wanna know,' he insisted.

Come on, it wouldn't be a game if you knew! Do you wanna play or not?

He sighed. 'Okay,' he replied. 'How long do I have to stand up for?'

Five minutes.

'But that's forever,' he moaned.

The sooner you do it, the sooner you get the prize!

He sighed, gripping onto the edge of the arms of the chair. He pushed himself up onto his feet, stabbing pain shooting right up through his legs. He shrieked and dropped again.

'Hurts,' he moaned, shaking slightly. 'Rose, it hurts.'

I know, I know, but please, please do this.

'And I get a prize?'

Yeah, you get a prize.

He tried again, forcing himself upright. He used the chair for support, desperately trying to stay vertical.

Now pace. The pain'll get better, I promise. Please do it for me.

'Ok-kay,' he choked out, and slowly, very slowly, began to pace. After a few moments his eyes were filled with tears, and the pain was almost unbearable. But he kept going. For Rose.

I'm so sorry.

She was crying, he realised.

'Don't cry,' he begged her.

I'm just… sorry. I'm sorry it hurts you. I'm sorry you're in this mess cos of me. I'm sorry you're so weak. So I'm gonna get you out, yeah? Please just do what I say and everythin' will be okay, I promise.

'I love you.'

I love you too.

Koboho had had just about enough of the Time Lord. Four weeks, she kept him in there in aversion therapy, but he still wasn't telling her any information she wanted to hear. He was deteriorated to the point of delusion. He barely knew what he was saying, or what she was even saying. He seemed to be hallucinating his wife. All of the handbooks stated after such repeated use of his respiratory bypass system he should have told her about his plan by now. Yet still, somehow, that slimy Time Lord hadn't confessed.

The mere idea that he wasn't here for another reason was implausible to her. Why would a Time Lord imprison themselves so willingly and then give up? He was doing something, something that was going to ruin her career.

The prisoner commissioner was already on her back about all the bad press New Shada was getting off of the back of the Doctor's attack. She had utterly no doubt that this was the turning point of her career, and she was determined that Time Lord wasn't going to better her. It had taken long enough to get here, and it wasn't all about to be ruined by one jumped up Time Lord, who, as per usual, was storming around time and space like he owned it.

She wished dearly she could question the human, Jack – she was more likely to get information out of him. But regulations forbade it. The regulations also weren't exactly forgiving of what she was doing to the Time Lord, but although the press and the universe acted like they gave a damn about the Doctor, they weren't exactly running to his aid. She had taken the statutory five days of interrogation against him, and just granted herself repeated extensions for the official channels. Nobody would know what had happened to him, not really, certainly not the Time Lord in his state.

Gaining that vital confession was far more important than anything else. He needed to be locked away, and only a confession to a plan would permit her all the evidence she needed do that. Only, the irritating twerp wasn't even doing that.

She strolled into the communication room, looking at the monitor for cell five. He was standing up again, talking as though communicating was another person in the room. He was hallucinating? Going mad? Something like that. So why wasn't he admitting his guilt?

She leant forward to the comms.

'Time Lord. Sit down.'

The Doctor paused momentarily, before dropping in his seat.

'What is your plan?' Koboho asked.

For a moment he didn't answer, his head lolling on the chair. He made an affirmative noise, before replying through the speakers, 'there's no plan... I don't know who Jack Harkness is.'

'Why do you insist on lying!?' Koboho spat, feeling incredibly angry.

'Because it's true,' the Doctor muttered. He didn't even look like he knew what he was saying.

Koboho harrumphed. 'Fine. Then you're going to stay here.'

'You can't do that... It's been more than five days, it's been weeks…. This is illegal.'

Koboho glared at him on the screen. 'You agreed to a contract when you entered New Shada, Doctor. You are the property of the prison. If you refuse to be give me the information I ask for then I am at liberty to take whatever measures I see fit to protect you.'

'Like torture, you mean?'

Koboho silenced momentarily. 'This is all above board,' she lied.

'Not, it's not… This is about your own career. Can't you see you're killin' him?'

Koboho took a breath to reply, but then realised. He. The Doctor had referred to himself in the third person... 'You speak, Doctor, but those are not your words. I've been observing you. Are you hallucinating your wife?'

'Okay, fine...' He suddenly stopped, swallowing before speaking again, 'yes, I'm Rose, and I'm inside the Doctor's head.'

Koboho frowned. 'What does that mean?'

'It means you'll never get what you want from him, because even in his state of delirium he trusts me,' the Doctor – or was that his wife? – said quietly, still limp on the chair. 'He's repeatin' every word I'm sayin' and I bet he doesn't even know what it means he's so confused. He's even copyin' my accent. You can't win, Koboho. You can't threaten me to make him talk either, cos how are you gonna get to me? I'm inside his head. So back off, lady. Because I'm not goin' away.'

Koboho stared. 'This is impossible,' she muttered, wide-eyed. She jumped to her feet, heading out of the comm room and down the line of solitary confinement cells to number five. She keyed in the code, and the door hissed open.

There he was, sitting in the chair utterly limp. A few moments after the door opened he look up at her, but there was very little clarity in his eyes.

She strode forward.

'Stop there,' the Doctor said quietly. 'Don't come near him.'

Koboho stopped, though she didn't quite know why. 'This isn't possible, how are you doing this, Time Lord!? How is your wife in your head!?'

'Who cares how it happened? What you need to do now is back off and leave him alone, cos even if he doesn't remember what you've done to him, I will. And I'll tell him. And you know what he'll do? He'll destroy you, and I don't think the rest of the universe will be that happy with you either. If your job means that much to you then you let him go right now. Give him food and water and bloody leave him alone.'

Koboho blanched. 'I do not take orders from you!'

'He's got no idea what's happenin' cos of what you're doin' to him. Do you know what that's like? I've lost him. He was talkin' to me and now he's gone. So let him go and fix him or I'll make sure you regret it. Cos I swear to god, if he isn't like he was before then I'm gonna tell him to kill you. And he will. He'll do anything I tell him to.'

The Doctor suddenly raised his hand, slicked with blood from the cuts of his cuffs, and gave Koboho a middle finger.

'Fuck you, Koboho.'

Koboho turned, and ran to the nearest droid.

'Release the prisoner, put him back to seventh degree and ensure he receives medical attention,' she said quickly before heading off as quickly as she could towards her office, as far away from the Time Lord as she could possibly go.

A/N: Slaaaam!