When this was over and done with, Violet vowed to never talk to the Doctor. Any incarnation of him. Ever again. She was now trapped in an old innocent Torchwood memory with the version of the Doctor that fancied himself Merlin (which was the biggest stack of crap she'd ever heard—what kind of jerk stacks British mythology in his own favour?). He was just leaning against a cubicle wall, hands folded pleasantly in front of himself, stupid umbrella with the bright red handle hooked upon his arm.

"Lets see what the princess has to say about this," Todd chuckled somewhere in the distance.

Violet didn't turn. She froze in her chair, staring at the numbers on her computer screen. This whole thing would have gone a lot quicker if her grandfather had let her install the correct language support on her work computers. But there was that whole part where she was supposed to be just a normal human thing that prevented her from just running all the rift computations in Gallifreyan.

A hand-held device was shoved in her face and twisted around, two inches from her eyes. "What is it?"

Grabbing the small screen from Todd, she held it far enough away that she could actually see what it was. "Coordinates. Takeaway restaurant in the Belmos system," she grumbled before she thought better of it.

Todd looked like Carrottop, only with strawberry blotches running from his cheek to his neck. He was gross and thought he was god's gift to science. Hence he was now looking down his nose at her. "Yeah, right."

Pointing to the four numbers, she sighed. "Spatial coordinates. Latitude, longitude, depth, solar system of reference. You probably spent a week working on those numbers, didn't you?"

There was a chorus of laughter from behind her and she turned, grinning at her accomplices. She could always count on Greg to be on her side. Well, he'd better, or else. Amanda and Chris just knew she was the safer bet in these office battles of 'what the hell is it' and Zita seemed to actually enjoy spending time in her presence.

She turned to her entourage when Todd stormed off, taking the PDA with him. "Hey, he asked," she explained.

Sometimes she hated sitting on the main floor. Granted her cubicle was the size of a corner office, but she would have liked some privacy. Then she wouldn't have to deal with people like Todd, and she could just patch in to her TARDIS for some of these calculations. They'd be done a hell of a lot faster.

But it had been her grandfather's idea—putting her in the open to be used as a resource.

It was why she was out the door at the first sign of trouble, in hot pursuit of it. Office life would kill her, and she was only seventeen.

"Here he comes again," Zita whispered when she'd turned back to her numbers.

A second later a rusty piece of metal on creaking hinge came swinging over her cubicle wall. "Oh wow. Haven't seen one of these in ages, not that I'm sorry for it. Where'd they find this?"

"Bottom of the river," Todd ground out. "What is it, Miss I've-Seen-Everything?"

Violet shrugged smugly. If he wanted to play it like that, she could play it like that. The twat had been getting progressively worse since the report came back on how she'd solved the problem with the Sdis, and she'd had enough. "Part of a Harvester Droid. Intergalactic antique acquisition. Only they like brains in jars."

A mobile phone rang and Zita answered, wandering away, leaving her with a red-faced Todd.

She stared at him for a moment, wondering what the hell else he could want. Getting up, she walked around the side of the cubicle. Arms folded across her chest, she tried to give the impression that he'd better not bother her again. "Anything else I can help you with?"

His eyes narrowed. "You might have favoured status around here, but you don't have me fooled. Your mother never did, either."

Ahh. Part of the old regime. She thought her grandfather had gotten rid of the worst of that lot? Well, from that perspective, Todd wouldn't fit the bill. He was annoying but harmless. "Whatever. I'm here to do a job. You wanted to know what it was, I told you. You don't like it, take it up with Pete Tyler." She never referred to him as her grandfather at Torchwood. She didn't need to remind people that she ate her cornflakes at the same table as the man on top every morning. They had a hard enough time with a minor doing the things she did here.

And Todd wasn't leaving. It figured. "I reckon you're going to eventually come up against something you don't know anything about, and then we'll see just how much good having all the old files memorised does you."

So he thought her grandfather had read her old Torchwood files like bedtime stories, and that's how she knew what she knew? Well, good for him. "Don't worry about me, I can handle myself, thanks. And it's gonna be a while before we run out of stuff I can handle."

He leaned in, something vicious in his pale grey eyes. "Oh yeah, that's right. That mysterious dad of yours. Your mum just up and hands him custody one day, then the Daleks nearly invade, she disappears, and here you are. Not even an adult, dumped on your grandparents like your mother doesn't even care. So just what sort of little adventures did you have with him? That even qualify you to be here?"

This was about the last mission. She'd ditched the team and had destroyed the alien threat with thirteen pounds of butter and an electrical charge. He was mad that she'd decided she knew what was best for everyone and had left them behind…again. She did that a lot, lately. It was quicker and easier that way, sometimes. There were just less explanations. Either Greg came with, or he ran interference. And Todd had apparently had enough of being left behind.

Her eyes narrowed and a malicious grin pulled back upon her lips. "I'm sorry, my childhood's classified and your clearance isn't high enough."

Finally managing to take control of the memory (they were getting thicker, heavier and less pliable as the situation wore on) she glared at the Doctor. "What are we doing here?"

He had that calmness about him that she just despised. The one that would not be upset by her ire, right now when she wanted a confrontation. "Did it ever occur to you that this whole psychic backlash started because of you?"

Everything grew dim and blue, like twilight. The air was moist and metallic tasting, like the air during a thunderstorm. It stung in her nose as everything changed, like the stage being reset during a blackout.

Ok, she hated the northern leather-clad Doctor. He'd been a complete jerk to her in the two days of their acquaintance and implied she was everything from incompetent to a TARDIS thief (rich, considering the source). This Scottish fellow was about two steps away from getting set on fire, with that smug look on his face—the manipulating bastard was up to something.

XYZ

Branden groped for his brother's hand in the dark and sighed. "This is a dumb adventure."

A second later, Rom's hand clasped over Branden Tyler's, gripping it tightly. "Most of them are. This is reason…" he thought about it. "What're we on? Sixty-four? Sixty-four--why Captain Jack is way better than the Doctor." His free hand fumbled around for the generator switch again. "No psychic stupidness, firstly, and he's got a dinosaur, and even when the power goes out in the hub, the emergency lights go on there. Unlike the dumb TARDIS."

His hand hit the lever, finally coming across it. "Don't see why we can't live with Captain Jack. Him bein' way better than the Doctor. Then we'd get ta stay with mum more."

"Yeah!" Brandenberg chimed in. "An' dinosaurs and ninjas and stuff!"

Pushing up on the lever to no effect, Rom cursed his shortness, his lack of leverage, and a bunch of other things. "Captain Jack doesn't have ninjas."

"Captain Jack IS a ninja!" the younger boy explained reverently. "And he's Batman."

Rom wriggled his hand out of his brother's grasp then jumped up, grabbing hold of the lever, hanging on to it with all his weight, under the theory that if flipping the generator on had plunged the ship into darkness, turning the oversized switch the other way could only help at this point. "He ain't Batman!"

Reaching out, Branden grabbed the other boy's shirt, rubbing his nose with his fist. "He's got a secret underground bat cave and a cool car, and a dinosaur."

Swinging his feet back and forth ineffectually, Rom finally let go of the lever. "Um…I guess he is Batman." His voice was filled with awe. "And that's reason number sixty-five why Captain Jack is better than the Doctor. Captain Jack is Batman."

There was hollow thudding on the hatch separating the boys from their qualified adult supervision which caused Branden to let out a high-pitched squeal then latched onto his brother for dear life. "It's snow ninjas!"

Rom pushed his brother away as the younger boy started fussing. "It's not snow ninjas!"

He'd spot Branden the Batman thing, but there weren't any snow ninjas in the TARDIS. This time. "It's MUM!" He knocked back. "Mum?"

He got a couple more thuds in response.

Rubbing his head with both hands, Rom tried to think past the headache he'd been suffering with for a while now. It hurt less now that the lights were out, but he still wanted to just crawl into a hole and die or take a nap, or something. He could hear muffled voices on the other side, but couldn't make any of it out. It was kinda depressing. Captain Jack wouldn't have let this happen.

XYZ

Footsteps on the stairs, two sets of them and muted voices. That was the first thing Violet's senses fixed upon. She cursed the Doctor his control over these visions and hated that he was using this as some sort of object lesson.

Especially when one voice was her grandfather's, and the other was Todd Bentley, walking towards her bedroom in her grandfather's house. "Now isn't a good time. She isn't up and about yet. This internal investigation can wait until then."

"You've put a system in place meant to protect our employees. I'm simply doing my job."

Yeah, Violet thought, as she watched from the shadows, he's doing his job, as arrogantly as possible. And in a way that uses her grandfather's own rules against him.

Sighing, her grandfather wiped sweat from his balding head, then knocked on the door to her room. It wasn't closed all the way and it swung open. "Violet?" turning, he looked around for her then sighed.

Todd's hair was shorter, but he was the same flaming turd of a personality. His eyebrows shot upward. "She seems to be very up and about."

Why couldn't she remember this? You'd think, something like this, she'd be able to recall, especially if the memories were her own.

A voice from behind her made sense of the memory. It was the Doctor in the straw hat again. "Your mind took everything in, it was just unable to process it in a useable manner. It simply stored the information, and, well, here we are."

Her grandfather walked past Todd, looking around the hall and calling her name. There was a frightened cry down near the room that used to be her mother's study. Without thinking Pete grabbed a folded blanket off the rocking chair near the door and ran toward the sound of glass breaking.

Oddly compelled to follow, Violet filed in behind Todd, who had this smirk on his face, like he'd finally gotten exactly what he wanted.

And there she was, crouched next to the wooden desk near the window, clutching her knees to her chest. The computer monitor was broken on the floor in front of her, pieces of thin plastic everywhere. She couldn't remember any of this.

It was so odd to see herself like this, thin and bruised and cut-up, muttering to herself in between hysterical shouts and sobs, bare feet rocking into the crushed mess.

Her grandfather knelt beside her, pushing the shards away. He put the blanket around the broken, huddling mass on the floor. "I told you now wasn't a good time," he grumbled to the man behind him, then wiped the tears away from the younger Violet's face. "Hey. Sweetheart, lets get you back to your room." Violet shook her head no. "Vi, you know how your grandmother feels about you wandering around the house alone. Lets get you back to your room before she comes back up here."

At least acknowledging his presence, she put her head on her grandfather's shoulder. "Made a mess."

"It's not important," he whispered. "We're going to get you put back to bed, got it?" Pete tried to get her to her feet, but when she didn't respond, he simply picked her up. "Violet—no more wandering around the house, please. You're going to hurt yourself."

The dim light coming through the window made the tears glisten off the hollow cheeks of the girl staring past and through her grandfather, not entirely sure of when or where she was. That much Violet remembered—her time sense had been messed up for months. It had been so disorienting—worse than vertigo and twice as incapacitating and confusing. "You think I'm crazy," she whispered. "You think I shouldn't be at home any more."

Putting her on the bed, he pulled the blankets over her. "Vi, I'm not going to send you away. You're going to get better—you are getting better. I just…don't know what to do for you when you're like this," he whispered close to her ear, trying to avoid Todd's watchful glare.

Hollow blue eyes looked past her grandfather to the visitor. "He wants you to leave Torchwood. All the things in his head…he thinks I'm a thing." she shuddered, then turned onto her side and held her ears, curling into a foetal position. "It's like yelling all the time. All the yelling…"

Pete turned to the other man. "She can't block anything out right now. It's driving her mad. She can hear all our thoughts and she doesn't know where or when she is. So good luck interviewing her and getting any straight answers out."

Stubborn to the end, Todd pulled a chair to the edge of the bed and took out an audio recorder. "This is Todd Bentley, it's the…seventh of March…" The figure in the bed continued sniffling quietly to herself as Todd went on. Finally he thrust the recorder in her face, after asking if she remembered the incident at the lab.

She pulled away from the microphone, but the man asked her again. Finally, her eyes snapped open and Todd sat up, startled by the purple glow.

"I think the interview's over," her grandfather announced.

"No," the girl in the bed announced, sitting up. "He wants to know what happened." It was more anger than confidence, but it was the most 'together' she'd sounded since the beginning of this nightmarish memory.

Her grandfather grabbed her wrist. "He's going to go away, Violet. You don't have to hear his thoughts any more. Just calm down."

Ignoring Pete, she looked down at the recorder and it sparked once, then dropped out of Todd's hand.

A snarl of pain or disgust or something worse twisted her lips and when her hand snapped out to grab her former coworker's, a jolt went through them both. She clutched his shaking arm until he finally managed to pull away, startled and alarmed.

Picking the recorder off the floor, the redhead watched her fearfully while backing out the door.

She collapsed onto the bed, crying. "He wanted to know, so I told him…he wanted to know. He wanted…so I…"

Her grandfather kissed her forehead. "Vi, I'm not letting anyone else in here. Not until you're well." He must have sensed how terrified she was. Continuing with reassurances, he rubbed her back until she fell asleep again, drifting off, hopefully, to some place where others' thoughts couldn't hurt her.

"And that is why we are stuck here, my dear."

She turned around, glaring at the Doctor. "And you couldn't just tell me this? You needed to make me watch it? What does that have to do with anything? I got better. Everything's fine now. I wouldn't have been able to fly the TARDIS again, if it wasn't."

He took a few steps forward, pointing with the tip of his ridiculous umbrella at the figure in the bed. "But you didn't heal from that, did you? You can't hear them in your head, but it's only because you're not listening. The openings are still raw. It's why your mental barriers fall so easily. It's why you can feel Greg's higher emotions, can't you?"

Looking away, her jaw locked.

Lowering the umbrella, he looked her square in the eye, pulling no punches. "At first, I thought, when you asked about him, that you were just remembering something—but you really could feel his agitation, couldn't you? YOU are amplifying the problem with the TARDIS. She's powerful, but not powerful enough to do this on her own. It's why I wasn't knocked unconscious until you were worried about Greg. You lowered your own barriers to see how he was doing, and that was all the room two psychically out-of-control TARDISes needed."

Hearts caught in her throat, Violet refused to look at him. "If it's true…I didn't mean it."

"You didn't mean it. That's all well and good. But the fact remains."

That she'd done this. She was killing them all, slowly. By forcing it, by leaving Earth before she was completely healed. By never dealing with the thing that had made her leave Earth and her family behind. And she had no idea what to do about it.

XYZ

When he came round, Jack knew he was in a deeper pile of dog crap than the moment when the walls exploded around them, ignited by the vibration of the sonic device. He had a bad taste in his mouth like metal, cotton and earwax, all rolled into one, and a headache like a sonovabitch, which meant he'd gone and died again.

Mostly he knew he was in deeper trouble because he was secured to a large metal chair—every last little bit of him. That meant he was about to be tortured. He hated torture. First of all, it was kind of on the painful side. And second, the whole object of torture was to get information out of you. Which was one thing, but this was accomplished by causing as much pain as possible while still keeping the subject alive and conscious.

Then one slimy head tentacle slid across his cheek, the sucker grabbing hold of his lower lip, turning his head toward his captor. "We try diplomatic. You do no follow the rules. We try for hostage negotiation, you try to escape. Now we find out what you know."

Aww hell. How lovely. He didn't know if these guys were that good, or that bad. They had engineered the whole wriggle room for escape thing, so that they could say he was being combative, thus justifying anything they put him through. They were bothering going through the political process of covering their slimy little alien asses and making it look good, but they were still torturing him for information and planning on invading Earth.

It meant there was either another layer of badness on top of the knives they were sharpening four inches from his face that he couldn't figure out yet, or these guys were just the weirdest damned things he'd ever met and their priorities were all screwed up and totally incomprehensible to human logic. Could just be some sort of twisted honour code that they needed to uphold.

It didn't matter, really. He didn't want to be around for the part where they started chipping his fingernails back, one by one. He knew just how much a man could endure before he expired-and they'd have a field day with him, and that whole not dying thing.

Speaking of dying… he'd come up here with someone. And if he'd died…what had happened to the kid?

He'd been threatening to kill Greg, but now that his demise seemed like a very real possibility, he was changing his mood on the subject. It was impossible for him to even fathom what it would do to the well-intended but slightly neurotic alien who loved him. Especially when he remembered back to how the Doctor had been, when he'd thought he'd lost Rose forever. He didn't wish that kind of self-torture on Violet, even if the kid had chosen a damned inconvenient moment to grow a spine.

Pressing his lips together, he did his best not to listen to the sordid detail of what was going to become of him, should he fail to cooperate and not tell them fully about Earth's defenses.

Jack couldn't say he was full of hope. If the explosion in the cell had killed him…what the hell had it done to Greg, who'd been standing at ground zero of the wall eruption?

He glanced up into the bloodshot green eyes of his captor and tried to muster up something resembling bravado. "Whatever. What I want to know, more than anything, is how you even KNEW we were in the middle of a TARDIS mating dance?"

TBC…