Jack wiped the crud out of his eyes. Four hours of sleep was all that he planned to take and four was what he got. He bent over to pick up the energy extractor and was about to leave his room when he heard footsteps ringing on the stairway outside. He quickly opened the door and saw Gwen descending the staircase. She looked concerned, but not panicked. That at least was a good sign. She stopped halfway down when he stepped into the stairwell.

"I was just checking to see how you were. Martha's getting anxious," she explained.

"Has the Doctor had a change in his condition?" asked Jack as he started up the stairs, taking them two at a time with practiced ease.

"No," Gwen moved to one side allowing Jack lead the way as she continued, "nothing beyond the usual pattern. He's getting weaker, but it hasn't accelerated. Martha was running some figures and she believes we don't have much of a safety margin left. If you need it, she does have that stimulant for you."

"I don't," Jack replied as he entered the control area and looked around. "Did the ambassador get moved?"

"Yes, he was transferred…"

"Good. Then where's Martha?"

"She's in the cell block."

"What's she doing there?" Jack asked, not really expecting a reply. He was already at the cell block door and he knew he would soon find out for himself.

Upon entering the corridor he stopped. It was far brighter than usual and also colder. Not uncomfortably so but definitely cooler than the main control room. Martha was outside Doctor's cell along with a cart filled with medical supplies. Or at least to Jack they looked like medical supplies, clear tubes of varying diameters, on top of medium blue equipment, white boxes and packets with black and red lettering, and brown plastic bottles. The dead giveaway however, was the hospital gurney complete with IV stand that already had a liter bolus hanging from it. The presence of the supplies also helped explain the acrid odor of bleach and disinfectant, and the unusually clean state of the floor and walls.

In sharp contrast to the modern medical equipment, there was a narrow worn wooden table across from the Doctor's cell door. Ianto was in the process of positioning a chair next to it. A worm of guilt entered his thoughts. His people had indeed been busy while he slept.

Martha looked up when he approached. "Sorry, to get you up," she apologized. "I didn't think we could wait any longer."

"Don't worry, I was already up," Jack assured her. "What's going on?"

"Nothing specific, he hasn't moved since you last saw him, but his vital signs are getting weaker. I don't think we should wait any longer, especially after what happened with the ambassador. We've set up everything we can think of. I saw you were having some problems holding the machine and operating it at the same time, so we brought in a table and chair. I hope you don't mind."

Jack nodded his approval. "That's fine. Let's get started then, shall we?" He set the device on the work table and stepped over to the entrance of the cell putting his hand up to disarm it. A voice stopped him.

"Is that wise sir?" asked Ianto.

"I don't want to accidentally torch the corridor. You have a problem with that?" Jack countered, still unsure of Ianto's feeling towards the Doctor, how much jealously might cloud his judgment. He rested his hand on the switch, refusing to remove it until he was given cause, while examining his aide for any sign of deception.

"It's just…" there was a hesitation as the Welshman tried to meet Jack's harsh glare but repeatedly failed. "It's just… he was so adamant that we arm it. What if something goes wrong? If he starts to regenerate before we get that creature out. We can close the door quickly, but the arming takes ten seconds to be active."

Jack shook his head as let his hand fall. It was his own judgment that was clouded, not Ianto's. "Alright, I'll leave it armed. You don't you have any objection to my opening the door, do you?"

"No sir." As if to prove his point, Ianto opened it wide. Jack could tell from his detached manner he was covering up the sting of Jack's doubt.

"When was the last time you had any sleep?" Jack probed.

"I'm fine sir"

"No, you're not." Jack took him by the elbow and started guiding him to the exit of the cell block. "I want you to get some sleep. And one less person here, is one less distraction I have to worry about."

"But sir," the Welshman protested. "You might need me to help move him after it's over."

"If we do, we'll call you. I'm not sending you home. Stay close but get some sleep. Use my room if you want."

"If you insist."

"I do." He watched Ianto leave as he sat down in the chair. That problem tabled for the moment it was time to concentrate on the main issue. Studying the scene in the cell his mouth became dry as his concern increased. There was some blood on the floor, but not enough to explain how pale the Time Lord was. His face was turned towards the door, eyes open, but apparently unseeing. Freckles stood out, even at this distance, against his unnaturally white complexion. There was dark caked blood forming a trail from the corner of his mouth. There was additional blood trailing from his nose. His body was taut, back arched, with arms curled up to his chest, the left one swollen and purple. Jack closed his eyes to the scene, the pain his friend was in was obvious and he was about to cause him more, possibly risk his life. Though he was definitely the most experienced with the device, he also knew, he was a novice.

Gwen's voice broke into his thoughts. "Are you alright Jack?"

Jack stretched himself up from the slouch he'd been unaware he'd assumed. "I'm fine, just give me a moment. I'm only going to get one shot at this."

"We may not have a moment," Martha interrupted. "The ambassador died shortly after arriving at the hospital, they said it was as if the will to live just left him. The Doctor is in worse shape than he was."

The captain turned his head sharply towards his subordinate and the medic. "The ambassador died? Why didn't you tell me?" he demanded.

"We didn't want to disturb you," Gwen replied. "It's not like we have a choice. We still have to do the procedure on him. Unless you have another idea?"
The captain looked down at the device and shook his head. "No, I don't."
"So then rather than wake you, we felt it would be better if we concentrated on getting prepared to take care of the Doctor." She gestured to the medical equipment and supplies gurney.

Jack nodded. "Oka,y you did the right thing. Just stand back now and whatever you do, don't interrupt me." He took a deep breath and ran his hand though his hair before running it over the surface of the device and turned it on.

It was warmer than he remembered or maybe he just didn't notice the temperature before. The display at least was reassuringly familiar, but what was on it was disturbing. The energies were no longer evenly matched. The green was predominant, overwhelming the yellow, which appeared to be smaller and less bright than before. Jack hoped that was just an illusion, a trick of the lighting. There was a soft moan from the cell, the Doctor was already starting to react to the scan.

Silently asking the Doctor for forgiveness, Jack started to peel away one of the green tentacles from the yellow. He could hear the thumping and thudding as the Doctor thrashed in the cell. The moans becoming inarticulate cries. Closing his mind off from the sounds Jack concentrated on the screen in front of him. He trapped the first tentacle only to see two new ones start to grow in its place. He had to work faster than he had with the ambassador, or else it would be a race of who was going to give out first, him or the creature.

Breathe, just keep breathing, keep the hearts beating and hang on to the creature, nothing else matters. The Doctor was concentrating on that thought and only that thought. He had to keep his body alive. It was an anchor for his life force and his life force in turn anchored the creature. His staying alive prevented it from transferring to another victim or worse, using his regeneration energy to transform itself.

He could feel the creature battering at his concentration, trying desperately to break it. It had gotten in once, attacking that part of him that made him a Time Lord and used one of his greatest strengths against him. He'd managed after a time to shield against that attack, or more properly ignore what his warped time sense was telling him. Cutting himself off from the sensation of knowing when and where he was, because it didn't matter. The creature was with him, unable to harm anyone else while it was. That was what was important.

Then that buzzing vibration returned, causing him to be aware of the pain that tortured his body as his concentration slipped. He tried to block the vibration out but it was insistent, refusing to be ignored.

Soon the vibration changed and became more intense. He felt the creature within him struggling fiercely. Why he couldn't tell. He could feel a small part of it detach. Escape? No it was also increasing its hold on him, hurting him more. His body was trying to escape the pain to no avail. He doubled over from the sharp pain in his gut. Only to have that pain stay with him, while his back felt like it had been stabbed with a molten blade, causing him to arch away from the searing hot torment.

He was in agony as he tried to reason out what was going on. Was it was splitting. Preparing to plant a seed in someone else, like it had in him? He had to stop it, distract it. He pulled energy from his pain racked body and went on the attack. Trying to get inside the creature, take it over, knowing he wouldn't succeed, but at least he could stop it from whatever it was planning.

No, wrong, wrong. Suddenly he felt horribly wrong. There was something… something he was forgetting. He could feel that his body's movements had changed, it was… convulsing… reacting to something new, his arms were flailing, desperate movement with no purpose, no strength, gravity pulling them back down as exhausted muscles abandoned each movement before its completion, then instinctive desperation moved them again. He felt… he felt… breathless. That was it, breathless. No… no… he'd… quit breathing.

That was it, when he had tried to attack, he'd over-reached himself and the creature had launched a new attack of its own. He could almost feel the regeneration energy starting. He ceased his assault, paid no attention to the pain, deserted his senses and just concentrated on taking a breath, a single expansion of the lungs to draw in the air and then let them collapse to force it out. One breath taken, now another, he was getting back control. His hearts were racing too fast, whether from the lack of oxygen they had suffered or the creature attacking them he didn't know, but he had to get them under control, they were losing rhythm, starting to fail. He concentrated on syncing them with his breath, ten beats on the inhale, ten on the exhale. It was an effort to concentrate on forcing the rhythm onto his unwilling hearts. It was so hard to do. He felt the siren song of surrender. He could just stop. Let what happens, happen. He'd been at it too long. It was time for someone else to be the hero.

He pushed that seductive thought aside as more oxygen entered his system and a small modicum of strength returned renewing his will to fight on. He had to keep breathing, he had to stay alive and hope that there would be a rescue before it was too late. With a final thrust he pushed all sensation from the buzzing aside, and concentrated on one thing, staying alive.

Jack was vaguely aware that the Doctor's cell had become quiet, there was just the rasping sound of his breathing, what that meant he didn't have time to consider. The creature was putting up an effective resistance to the extraction and he was making no headway. His speed was such that the creature was only able to get one new tendril out for each one he trapped, so at least he was no longer losing ground, but he had no idea how long he could keep this up. In desperation he tried a new tactic, trapping two at once. They had to require similar movements but finding two wrapped in the same direction was possible. He spread his middle and index fingers on his right hand, manipulating a tendril under each one and tested the method. It worked. At last, he had an advantage.

He was working quickly and with confidence now. He knew he could defeat the creature. It was just a matter of time. Time he hoped the Doctor still had.