He does not know how long he's lain here, curled pitifully onto the cold floor. It could have been hours, it could have been days. He has not eaten or drank or slept. The memory is right there, knowledge floating on the edge of his consciousness, and if he moves, it will flood in, filling his mind and consuming his thoughts, and he will break.

He knows it will happen.

But now, right now, he is numb. He revels in it, the numbness, the cold and empty ache in his chest, the barely-there twinge of his hearts every time he breathes too deeply. His skin crawls with it, or maybe that's just a lack of circulation.

It doesn't matter.

Dex is jostled awake, rough movements jarring his tender flesh. Everything hurts. It is dizzying, the pain, and all he wants it to go back to sleep and never wake up. He groans.

A low rumble vibrates through him, and he hears the intermittent murmur of voices and feels the steady thunk of footsteps jarring his body.

He is being carried.

He twists, fights, instinct overtaking him, but the pain is pulling him under, and his struggle is not very effective.

"Shh," and he feels the strange vibrations again, realizes he is being held against somebody's chest. Warm arms engulf him, and notices that he is shivering.

"It's okay," murmurs the voice. He feels a cool hand on his forehead, and he is suddenly reminded of being a tiny child, wrapped in his mother's arms, soothed to sleep.

The voice continues. Dex thinks it is a nice voice, "Go back to sleep," it sighs. " I've got you."

He relaxes and lets the blackness take him.

"Doctor."

Someone is calling his name. He doesn't respond. It doesn't matter.

"Doctor." The soft, musical quality of the voice strikes something in him, and he shivers, clinging desperately to the numbness.

"I have information on the child."

The illusions shatters, and the Doctor sits up slowly.

Eleazar is seated in front of him, leaned close, eyes gleaming. "There, that's better," he says, voice warm and comforting.

The Doctor can only give him a blank stare.

Eleazar frowns, leaning back in his chair. "I thought you may be curious to know what I had intended for him," he says, steepling his hands in front of his chest. "Dex seemed very interested, you see."

The name hits him, and he winces unconsciously. He does not speak, only closes his eyes and focuses on keeping the knowledge out, on mending the crack in his defenses. He will not break, not now.

Eleazar notices the slight reaction and smiles viciously before continuing, "You see, Doctor, when our ancestors first settled on Karphelox, they were just normal humans. Nothing special," he shrugs. "It wasn't until the discovery of alcanite that everything changed."

He pauses, allows the Doctor a chance to respond. He does not.

Eleazar sighs. "The alcanite is plentiful and useful. It is lightweight and strong, not to mention beautiful." He strokes the blue handle of his cane. "But that is not all."

The Doctor does not move. The words roll off of him, he knows Eleazar is speaking, thinks it could be important, but he doesn't care. He just wants to be left in peace.

"It changed us," Eleazar says. "Each generation, we had more and more children who were... different, who possessed strange abilities. Some felt the emotions of others. Some had an uncanny knack for guessing the future." He locks his gaze onto the Doctor, "and some could read one another's thoughts."

"For a long while, we didn't understand what was causing it. The effects increased with each generation. We had our best researchers investigate." His eyes gleam. "Finally, we discovered that it was the alcanite."

The Doctor does not respond. Eleazar strokes his cane absently. "It holds telepathic energy, and the exposure had been mutating our children. Soon, it became apparent that the telepathically inclined were rising above the ungifted." His face turns hard. "They had to be stopped. There was a long and brutal war, but in the end, the telepathic usurpers were overcome, and justice was restored to Karphelox."

"Since the war ended, I have been working tirelessly to discover why some children were affected and some not." He shakes his head sadly, "but it is so rare that I find a gifted child willing to comply. I'm afraid I have made little progress."

The Doctor still hasn't moved.

Eleazar narrows his eyes. He does not like being ignored. "I am still unsure why you took such pains to shield him, Doctor. A human telepath is a rarity. His mind should have been treasured, not hidden."

Eleazar stands and makes his way to the door, limping slightly. "It's a pity he drowned," he sighs. "Such a waste." He looks over his shoulder to the Doctor, eyes glittering viciously. "What would his mother say?"

Rose. The words tear into his defenses and the memories rush in. He does not notice Eleazar's soft chuckle as he slips out the door. He'd lost Dex. He'd been given a gift, the most precious thing in all the universe, and he'd ruined it. Rassilon, he'd shouted at him. He remembers the big green eyes, wide with hurt, gazing up at him as if he held the world in his hands. He had, once. He remembers the moment he'd realized he was Rose's son, the sudden rush of clarity, how he'd held him in his arms, how right it had felt. He remembers Dex's wide grin, so like hers, and oh, Rassilon, he'd lost them both. He should have pulled him back into the TARDIS, should have never landed on an unknown planet, should have scrambled to his feet and pulled him close when Dex had hugged him goodnight.

He was only seven.

He was so vibrant, so amazing and intelligent and perceptive and open and just full of life, the most brilliant little boy that had ever lived, and nobody in this universe even knew, would never know.

Eleazar was right. It was a waste.

Suddenly, he is fire and rage and fury, is shaking with it, consumed by it. There is not enough of him to bear the burden of his grief, that will come, he knows, but fury, oh, he can handle that. It is simple and all-emcompassing, a billowing inferno that engulfs him, burning in his blood and simmering in his bones. It stirs him, motivates him, drives him.

He stands, fists clenched, and grits his teeth. He has to get out of here.

Dex blinks himself awake. He can still see the grey stone of the ceiling, knows from the damp earthy smell and the crude artificial light that he is still underground, but it is not the same. He has moved.

He tries to sit up, slowly, gently. His muscles ache, he thinks his arms will tear with the effort, but he finally manages. He takes several deep breaths and analyzes his surroundings.

He is sitting on a small, makeshift cot. Someone has changed his clothes and given him a blanket. He is in a dark corner of the cave; he can see light filtering into the room from his right, can hear the low murmur of voices in the distance.

He slides his feet off the edge of his cot and stands slowly. There is a sharp twinge in his left foot, and his body cannot compensate for the sudden change in position. His vision greys out and he crashes backward onto the cot with a yelp.

He blinks hard, and slowly he becomes aware of his surroundings again, notices his hands and the incessant pounding in his head, the tingling in his cheeks and nose. He groans and leans forward, head in his hands. Must have been out for a long time, he thinks.

He hears the soft patter of light footsteps, looks up to see a woman hurrying toward him. "You tried to stand, didn't you?" She cocks an eyebrow at him, and suddenly he recognizes her voice.

She'd been the one who'd carried him away from the lake.

Dex looks at her. She is young, small and graceful, long brown hair hanging in a thick braid down her back. Her eyes are very deep blue.

Dex thinks she's very pretty.

She smiles at him. "I'm Torren," she says, squeezing his shoulder gently. "And you are a miracle." She looks hard at him, appraising, and he can feel the weight of her gaze on him. "You shouldn't be alive."

Dex just stares at her. He's never seen eyes like that.

She sighs, takes his hand. "Can you tell me what happened?"

He blinks. Oh. He wants to trust Torren, thinks that maybe he can, but caution gets the better of him, and he is deliberately vague. "I fell off a cliff," he says slowly, "and..." He pauses, completely unsure what to say next. He doesn't even know what happened himself. "And... I swam here," he finishes lamely. He knows it is a terrible story.

He can see immediately that Torren doesn't buy it. She gives him a skeptical look, eyebrow raised. "Listen, kid," she says, firm but not unkind, "I know what cliff you're talking about. It's over half a mile away." She shakes her head and locks eyes with him. "There's no way you could have been under the water that long."

"Dex," he says absently, ignoring her previous statement. He didn't want to think about how he'd managed to swim so far, didn't understand it.

"I'm sorry?"

"My name is Dex."

She smiles at him, a warm and genuine smile. "Nice to meet you, Dex," she says, gripping his hand.

The smile is gone almost instantly. "Now, Dex," Torren says, all business now, "Why did Eleazar have you on the cliff to begin with?"

Dex blinks at her, and she squeezes his hand again. "It's okay, I'm on your side," she says, and he believes her.

"I don't know," says Dex, honestly. "He thought I was telepathic or something. He wanted to look into my mind." He remembers Eleazar's cold fingers crushing his temples, the painful prodding in his head, and shudders.

Torren throws an arm around his shoulders. "You aren't from here, are you?" she asks, strange blue gaze piercing him.

He shakes his head, wondering why that was obvious.

She purses her lips. "I don't understand why he needed you," she says, eyes far away. "You're just normal."

Dex shrugs. "Yeah, tell me about it," he mumbles.

She raises her hands. "May I?" she asks.

Dex shrinks back unintentionally. He has not forgotten Eleazar.

"It's okay," she says quickly. "It won't hurt, I promise. You probably won't even know I'm here."

Dex gives her a skeptical glance, but nods in acquiescence. Torren gently rests her fingertips on him, and he feels the barest brush of her mind against his.

"Oh," she says, letting her hands fall and staring at Dex in shock.

"What?" Dex snaps. He's had enough of this for one day.

Torren speaks slowly. "It's just... I've never seen a mind like yours," she says, voice hushed. "You've got the most solid defenses I've ever seen." She pauses, looks at him with wide eyes, "and you don't even know!"

He shakes his hair out of his eyes. "But what's special about my mind?" he asks her. "Why did Eleazar want me?"

She shrugs. "I don't know. Suppose he thinks whatever's behind that wall must be worth keeping locked up."

The sit quietly for a moment, each lost in their own thoughts. Finally Dex breaks the silence. "Are you human?"

She laughs. "Of course. Aren't you?"

He ignores her question. "Humans aren't telepathic."

She sighs and looks away from him. She doesn't speak for a long moment. "It's a rare gift," she says quietly. "When our people first came here, nobody was telepathic. But slowly, once or twice in a generation, children were born with rare talents. They called us the 'gifted.'

"It was considered lucky, at first. Most of us were completely normal, to have one of the gifted in your family was celebrated." She pauses, then continues darkly. "Then came Eleazar."

"He was born into the royal family, the oldest of two sons. It was apparent from an early age that Liam, the younger son, was gifted. Eleazar was jealous. He was power-hungry and cruel; he spent many years conducting horrific experiments on the gifted, trying to find the secret to their abilities." She shudders.

"The king found out and had Eleazar banished. Rumor has it that he had planned to pass the crown on to Liam, but not long after that, the king was found dead in his bedchamber. Strangled, they said."

"Eleazar had mounted evidence that the king's murder was the work of the gifted, an effort to instate Liam as king and control the throne. Lots of things were said, but in the end, it led to an uprising. A bitter war."

"Dozens of gifted were slaughtered. We went into hiding, ran to the caves. The city was abandoned because of the gas bombs. Nobody could walk on the surface without a mask for years." She shrugs. "Eventually, the war was lost, there were so few of us left, and Eleazar declared himself Patriarch of Karphelox. Said he wanted a new age of peace."

"That was nearly 13 years ago. Now, the few of us who opposed him are forced into hiding. He controls the public by fear. Every year, he runs a census. Nobody ever talks about it, but it's true purpose is to identify the gifted children. He takes them as babies from their homes, tells the parents that they are going to a special academy for training. They are never heard from again. He has suppliers all over the planet, stealing children and selling them to him. It's a huge business."

She sighs and looks at Dex, and he can see tears in her eyes. "They took my brother," she whispers. "He was just a normal little boy. Nine years old."

Dex takes her hand. "I'm sorry," he says softly. There is nothing else to say.

She sniffs and smiles at him. "You remind me so much of him."

Dex doesn't know how to respond, so he just squeezes her hand.

Neither of them speak for a long while.