Sigh, exams and all that jazz. I'm trying though; give me credit for that at least. You may want to read back a few chapters to remember what's happened. Heck, why don't you read the entire story again. Go on, you know you want to… try it… do it!

(sings) It's my birthday and I'll post if I want to, post if I want to…

Disclaimer: The return of this series to our screens means my return to trying to obtain ownership of it. Needless to say, I'm still unsuccessful – go talk to the BBC to find out why…

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14 – Possibilities

--- Year: 1794 ---

It hadn't changed. How many years had that screeching groaning strain been his constant companion? It had been called the sound of the universe and rightly so, for it held the possibility of both this universe and the next. The Doctor stared with all the adoration of a dying man at an oasis, his attention snared.

Or at least until Arthur nearly knocked him over. Forcefully, the white horse shoved him back a bit until he was partially hidden amongst the trees. Thinking purely rationally, the Doctor agreed – it really wasn't the best of plans to stand out in the open, practically begging a nasty time-paradox to happen. However for his hearts it had been too long since he'd been this close to a way out, within touching distance of the best ship in existence and he resented the animal pushing him away.

Almost as if they had been waiting for the Doctor to remove himself from sight, the door of the disguised space-time-ship swung open with its characteristic squeal. Four people exited slowly, their eyes travelling all around to take in their surroundings.

"Ian, Barbara, and Susan," the Doctor breathed quietly, more to himself then the horse hovering by his shoulder. Just seeing them in the flesh brought back semi-ancient memories about his first companions and the time they'd spent together. The last figure out of the blue box however was the one he stared at for the longest. If only he could just go up and talk to himself, an understanding and most of all, Timelord ear to listen to his troubles. And he wouldn't object if there was a lift involved too.

The notion was sadly just a thought though – he couldn't distract the past version of himself from the actions he'd remembered taking. Seething with the cosmic unfairness of it all, the Doctor held himself motionless until after the group had disappeared from sight. Knowing that they weren't going to be coming back for a few days he allowed himself a luxury that would get a lot of questions asked if he was observed.

Sliding out from his tree cover, the Doctor stopped dead in front of the familiar blue box exterior. Slowly, almost as if he couldn't believe it was really there, he reached out a hand to touch the fake-wood exterior. Stroking his fingertips over the rough surface he allowed himself to briefly indulge in a slight fantasy. One where he wasn't trapped in the past, one where he could take this TARDIS and leave. The box in front of him rumbled slightly, a groan that he only caught from long experience with the time-ship's way of expressing itself. Acting swiftly he withdrew the out-stretched hand before this ship picked up too much from him. He was feeling so strongly about this that he was broadcasting his emotions to anything receptive enough to pick them up – in this case the TARDIS. It really wouldn't do to get the ship so riled up that the past version of him noticed; changing a timeline was so important and deceptively easy, especially when it was your own personal one.

But, enough of this. He had something to do – a strange unfamiliar instinct was pulling at him, telling him to stay close to his past self. Leaving the TARDIS with several looks of regret he meandered vaguely after the much younger version of himself.

A short distance away was an old farmhouse that struck a chord in the caverns of his memory. He felt a stab of warning whenever he looked at it. Now if he could just recall why exactly he didn't want the other him to go inside… Oh, of course. Give it a while and that building was going to go up in flames, with him still inside it! It was almost as if the universe was obsessed with trying to make him burn. But that wouldn't be for a while yet and so he just had to exercise some of his hard-learned patience.

Making sure that both he and Arthur were securely hidden by the vegetation the Doctor folded his long legs underneath himself as he settled down onto the ground. A huffed breath through his hair told him quite strongly of the horse's opinion. A moment later however there was a warm presence behind him as Arthur joined the Timelord. Taking a deep breath the Doctor leaned backwards onto his friend and made himself comfortable for the interval. The pair had to remain inconspicuous, even when the farmhouse was assaulted by a band of revolutionary soldiers. This really was a troubled period in France's history full of unrest and paranoia, which was part of the reason he'd been avoiding it for a while.

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Arthur's narrow head roughly nuzzled into his side and the Doctor jumped up sharply. Directing a scowl at the thoroughly unrepentant animal he hissed:

"You didn't have to do that! I wasn't even asleep!" Arthur ignored him, focussing instead on something in the direction of the farmhouse. Clearly he thought that it was time for them to do whatever they had come here to do. Cautiously standing up, the Doctor eased himself forwards through the trees until he had an unobstructed view of the building. And the crowds leaving it. The first trails of smoke were curling out of the roof, clear evidence of the fire. Experience with multiple types of incendiaries told him that it wouldn't be long before the tendrils of flame became visible. It also told him that unless he enjoyed being burnt to a crisp he really ought not to go too much closer. Gritting his teeth against the irony of it all the Doctor trudged up the hill. He'd just realised why he'd felt he had to be here, the small boy hovering by the wooden door had sparked a memory, a discrepancy he'd thought he'd forgotten until now.

Arthur snorted loudly at him, saying clearly in his own way what he thought of the Doctor's actions. Thoroughly used to the horse's speech by now the Timelord wearily replied:

"Yes I am going inside. No, you can't do anything to stop me and yes, your help would be appreciated." Arthur whickered gently, this time asking a question.

"I always thought it was a bit strange that a small boy was able to carry my unconscious body out of a burning building by himself. I'd always believed he had help but I never thought that I'd be the one giving it…" By this time he'd drawn close enough for the boy to yell at him.

"Hey, m'sieur! Please help, there's an old man still inside!" the Doctor nodded professionally at him before shooting a:

"Coming?" over his shoulder to the horse and muscling the door open. Immediately a wall of smoke billowed out over the three of them. Caught unawares they all choked a little, backing off from the assault. Glancing sideways at the human the Doctor issued a few short instructions.

"Deep breaths now; shallow once we're in there. Do you have anything to cover your mouth with? No? Shame. Right, quick in and out we're just going to get the man and then leave. Ready?" the boy nodded firmly, closely followed by Arthur. This brought the horse a slightly strange look from the local but it was soon forgotten due to their more important task.

Diving swiftly into the wall of air-borne soot and locking his throat shut the Doctor surged forwards. Working from a more-then-half-forgotten memory he raced through the burning building to find his previous self. Wouldn't that be a time paradox and a half if he failed to save himself? Would it render everything he'd done until then as if he never had existed? It was a scary and sobering thought that all his deeds could be erased simply by harming his younger self.

The design was relatively simple, being true to the era and he was able locate the stairs without any difficulties. As soon as his foot touched the first step he recalled the first time he'd gone up this staircase. It had been all of half an hour and at the same time over 50 years ago, the strange currents of time bending into loops to explain the situation. Casting around once up on the second floor, the Doctor stilled, searching for any trace of a living being. He'd been unconscious when he'd been dragged into the room so it wasn't likely he'd remember which one it was. A thread of sound reached his straining ears:

"…Get me out!" that was him, the memories retuning fondly of the old man, cranky when everything didn't go as planned. Which normally was all the time. Being locked in a burning building was guaranteed to upset the imperious personality. Quickly finding the right door, the tenth incarnation of the Doctor paused until he was certain the younger him had fallen unconscious again.

Throwing his weight against the upstairs door there was an almighty crash as the main roof of the farmhouse caved in. A slightly panicked whinny floated up from downstairs as Arthur had been forced to wait at the bottom of the steps to avoid stressing the floor too much. He was saying, rather forcefully, that they really ought to get a move on.

"Are you…" the boy hacked violently before trying again "Are you sure that's the right door?" he obviously hadn't heard the thin cry which had directed the Timelord. The Doctor spared him a glance before directing his attention back to the still-closed door. Instead of wasting his lungful of air – which he still hadn't had to replenish – with speech he stepped back and gave the door a sharp kick just below the handle.

The wood splintered from the point of impact, allowing it to swing open. There, sprawled on the floor clearly unconscious, was the older-looking form of himself. Unfortunately it appeared that the younger him hadn't learned how to hold his breath and was just going to be heavy deadweight. Although there was an upside to this: the past version wouldn't be awake to notice his rescuer and create a time-paradox.

Carefully the Doctor levered himself under one of the body's arms and hoisted most of the weight onto his shoulders. With a jerk of his head he indicated for the boy to take the other side. Between them they hauled the body down the stairs and draped it over the skittish horse waiting for them. In spite of, or maybe because of, the sheer amount of fires the Doctor had been in; Arthur had become excessively paranoid when trapped in burning buildings. Although thinking about it; the fear wasn't all that unusual to find in any cornered animal – it was a perfectly normal reaction, just possibly exaggerated by constant exposure.

Keeping a hand on Arthur's shoulder to steady the white horse the three rescuers dashed for the exit. Bursting out into the French night they gasped huge breaths of clean air, grateful to be out of the death-trap intact. Spinning around, the Doctor flung his weight against the door of the old farmhouse, slamming it shut before trudging off away from the wrecked building.

A short distance away on a vaguely-remembered hillside the Doctor heaved his past body off Arthur's back and onto the ground in the position that he faintly recalled waking up in.

"Now," he murmured, turning to the boy who had called for their help "Please tell him when he wakes up that it was just you who got him out of the fire. He doesn't need to know about us," the Doctor gestured slightly, indicating the white horse hovering behind him.

The boy frowned "But he will never believe I removed him by myself!"

"Trust me," the Doctor grinned slightly "He'll have a lot more on his mind then a simple question of your strength. I should know… Now! We really ought to be off, goodbye Jean-Pierre!" with a final wave he meandered off into the dark forest in the direction he'd come from, the white horse trailing obediently after him.

"But…" the boy muttered to himself "I never told you my name…"

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--- Year: 2007 ---

Terence's major discovery was in fact the diary of Jean-Antoinette Poisson. Or, to be specific: a large portion of her diary, several volumes of which had been irretrievably lost. But the thing that had absorbed Terence's attention was the chapter describing the events of 1758 at a ball held at the Palace of Versailles.

Or, to be specific the account in which she described, quite accurately, clockwork droids trying to remove her head from her body. But what had really caught their focus was the description of man and horse arriving through a solid wall. Instantly Jack's mind started calculating possibilities and reasons for how that could have happened – his speculations ranging from a localised dimensional portal to thinking that maybe Madame de Pompadour was on drugs and had imagined the entire incident.

Jack's eyes lit upon a single phrase, during the rendition of the rescue where she'd been quoting the actual dialogue. "…And I'm the Lord of Time," the ex-Time Agent couldn't bring himself the stop staring at that line, mentally refusing to come up with any other explanation then the obvious: The Doctor; it simply had to be – no else had the attitude to merely proclaim this to his captive audience.

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Three days later and Jack and Terence had, after launching various cross-referencing programs and burying themselves in Records Room for uncomfortable amounts of time, come up with a workable solution to the anomalies in the diary's account. This had necessitated teaching Terence about the existence of time travel and the possibilities enclosed therein. Surprisingly enough, the London-born hadn't had too many objections to the revelations he'd been subjected to after swearing various oaths of secrecy. The American wasn't even certain how much Torchwood knew of time travel, apart from of course their data on the Doctor.

Now Jack was back in his office, gazing morosely at the portrait identified as being of the Doctor, pondering what they'd theorised. If they were correct and, talking realistically Jack couldn't think of another plausible hypothesis, then the Doctor was trapped back in the 1700s without any form of leaving that era, namely his TARDIS.

The Doctor, the one who excelled in wriggling out of any and all situations, was hypothetically as trapped as Jack himself. The comparison was not lost on him. Maybe, by the time he met up with the Doctor, assuming the Timelord didn't use up the rest of his regenerations in this misadventure; he might have a little more sympathy for the chaotic alien. Might.

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--- Year: 5058 ---

Five days, sixteen hours and two minutes since the incident with the horse and the mirror (relative time).

It was a prison cell. Rose felt that she ought to be able to recognise one, no matter what the Time Agency insisted on calling it. They'd said something about waiting here 'for their protection' and she had barely held a snort at the level of the lies they were being fed.

After the TARDIS had been anti-grav lifted off the Cheynu's ship, the Agents had moved the blue box to their specially-equipped science laboratory and presumably tried to open it. Unsurprisingly the space-time-ship wasn't going to be cooperative. Rose and Mickey had originally been taken to Ergrer's office as he seemed to be in charge of the operation. Mere minutes later a call had come from the lab and they'd been ushered swiftly down into the heart of the vessel.

In short they'd been asked to explain just what exactly the TARDIS was. Rose had taken the initiative and had blinked innocently "It's a box," she'd said, in her very best childlike tone of ignorance.

Ergrer had ground his teeth together and repressed the urge to shout loudly before rasping out: "How do you open the box then?" Rose had looked puzzled

"It's supposed to open?"

It was entirely possible that she'd overdone the sweet little girl act but it had definitely been enough for the Time Agents to decide that they'd make more progress on their own and that if she knew anything useful then she wasn't telling. Probably they had been so annoyed with her that that was the reason they had shoved her and Mickey down here until they decided to be more cooperative. Which would be never; there was no way at all that Rose was giving them the key to unlocking the most fantastically advanced ship in the universe, there was no telling what they'd do with it. And besides, if he ever found out, the Doctor would throw a major tantrum.

'Here' was in fact not onboard the original cruiser which had docked with the Cheynu. They had somehow managed to travel either to a version of the Time Agency's headquarters or merely a larger ship. She wasn't entirely certain – all she knew was that they'd been moved, presumably to a place with better research facilities to investigate the TARDIS. And with better security to prevent an escape attempt… not that she'd seen any opportunity for one beforehand, but the possibility had just diminished.

Curiously Rose examined what she could see of her surroundings. The cell her and Mickey had been placed in was blank metal with two prison-regulation banks. Clearly some things had not changed over the centuries. The wall where the cell door would normally be was replaced by a completely transparent forcefield, which hummed softly to itself.

This energy shield allowed a much greater view of the corridor and other 'inmates' then would otherwise be possible.

Fascinated now, the blonde scrutinised the occupants of the cells which were in her field of view. The most interesting character she could spot was placed directly opposite them; his leather-brown reptilian skin and four-legged stance proclaiming 'alien' even before you looked at his face. His yellow pupil-less eyes glowed in the dim lighting of the cells and his muzzle-like nose flared constantly, straining to pick up scents in the sterile, man-made ship. Definite fangs curled over his lower lip and Rose found herself looking for dog-like ears to complete the predator look. However, the alien proved contrary to her expectations as she couldn't see any visible ears from her position. At least seven thin ribbon-like tails were in constant writhing motion behind him, curling over him or cracking like whips in obvious irritation and boredom. It was hard to count them precisely when they kept moving; tangling around themselves and the main body of the creature.

This particular alien appeared to be the most active member of the prisoners – the rest were slumped in unmoving heaps in their individual cells whereas this one seemed alert; scanning the area much like Rose herself was. In other circumstances the ex-shop girl could easily see herself and the Doctor running for their lives from creatures like this but instead the current conditions caused pity to rise up inside her. For all she knew that alien was trapped here on crimes as bogus and trumped up as her own and Mickey's. Ergrer had said something about 'concealing required information from the Agency' before he'd left them in the prison block.

She was brought out of her musings when the creature she was examining turned its bright, intelligent eyes to her and opened its mouth. From that fanged maw came a surprisingly soft, cultured baritone voice.

"Excuse me… is it that you are the… you being the one who… coming as you…" the being trailed off, shaking its head with a growl. It seemed to be having trouble getting the words out through its fangs, leading her to the impression that this wasn't its normal language.

Soon it seemed to come to a decision and locked its burning yellow eyes firmly onto her and spoke again:

"Rose?"

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Gah! How late am I? …On second thoughts don't answer that one. This is not only short, but late too. The only reason I'm posting is coz a few of my favourite stories updated recently and I was over the moon so I thought: 'I've got a story that might have a few readers wanting to see more'. So yeah reviews welcome! And secondly I am officially no longer not-an-adult so I ought to be more responsible. Yeah, how long is that going to last?

Tai