OMGOMGOMGOMGOMGOMGHOLYSH-THOLYSH-THOLYSH--------T!!!!!!! I JUST SAW UTOPIA AND IT WAS FANTAAAAAAASTIC OMG OMGGGGGGG!!!!!1 im from the wrong generation to know who the Master is, but OMG I looked him up and OMG he is baaaaaaack!!! sooooo coooooooooool!!!!!! and dammit russell t. davies (damn him) stole my idea for a fic I was gonna have someone else have a chameleon/watch thingy and be a time lord….. drat…

OK mad rant: over. Fin. Done. Fine.

Disclaimer: If I owned Doctor Who, I would have written Utopia MYSELF. Uh-huh, uh-huh, that's right.

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"Here you are, Doctor," said Mickey, nodding at the computer screen. "There it is."

"Oh my…" gasped Faye, who had returned from "the bathroom" a moment earlier, looking slightly disheveled.

"Yep," said the Doctor, popping the "p" and frowning in concentration. "That's it. That's the essence of the fever. Those tiny whitish blobs? They're collectives of the nanomicrobes that get inside your brain. And even though they're inorganic, they still multiply." He gave a dry raspberry and reached for his thick black glasses. "Overall one of the most tricky and annoying diseases ever evolved."

Martha suddenly snapped to attention, giving the Doctor a horrified look. "Doctor! But you said…you said it was a plague! So doesn't that make it contagious?"

"Oh, yes, very much so," he answered unconcernedly. "But the trick is, it can only get in an open wound. And during a war, those aren't hard to find, you can imagine. With Rose, I'd say it infected - we'll, invaded, more like - her when she started cutting herself. Come to think of it," he muttered, staring thoughtfully at the ceiling, "Rose really isn't one to just go and commit suicide…not without some sort of provocation, that is…"

Mickey jumped in. "The Fever? That's what made her slit her wrist?"

"Well, probably. Most likely. I'd say…ninety-nine percent chance, at the very least. Very very least. It starts on your mind first, feeds off of strong emotion. Pain, sadness…loss. It must've had a field day inside her, what with all that feeling."

"OK, so we know what it is, we know where it is," interrupted Faye brusquely, "how do we stop it?"

The Doctor whipped off his glasses and creased his brow even deeper. "That's the trouble. There isn't a cure, not any more. I'll have to make one from scratch."

"You're gonna invent a cure, just like that?" asked Martha incredulously. "Just…right outta thin air?"

"I most certainly am!" he cried, sticking out his lower lip and grinning at her. "C'mon, you're a medical student, show it a little."

"Hey, I'm doing my best just trying to keep up with the history bit, not to mention the science."

He raised his eyebrows in such a way that it made her feel stupid to look at him.

"Um…well, if they're inorganic, we can't kill them with antibiotics…erm…or herbal remedies…or chemotherapy…um…but we could possibly…possibly…send in something else to do the job?" she finished timidly, still not achieving eye contact.

"Yes! Good for you, Martha. We have to find something small and lethal enough to enter her brain and eliminate the microbes. I've just gotta figure out what…" He slouched in the chair and cupped his chin in his hands, focusing on the computer.

"There's always nanobots," suggested Mickey casually, shrugging.

Three pairs of eyes turned to stare at him in surprise.

"Or not…I mean, if it's a bad idea…sorry, just forget - "

The Doctor looked at him like he'd been punched in the face again. "Mickey Smith, when did you become such a scientist? That's brilliant! Oh, why didn't I think of that? Of course! Nanobots to fight nanomicrobes! Genius, absolutely genius!"

Mickey looked a bit abashed and scratched his upper arm nervously. "So I guess this means I ain't the tin dog anymore, eh, Doctor?" He swiveled around in the chair and smiled sheepishly at him.

"Definitely not," he agreed, thumping Mickey hard on the back. "Definitely, definitely not. I'm in awe, I really am! I never would have thought you capable of - "

"Yeah, yeah, enough with these compliments."

"Right. Sorry, erm…well, anyone know where we can find some nanobots? Um…"

He received three blank glances and slow headshakes.

"Right then, um, get to it Mickey, eh?"

Mickey gaped at him disbelievingly, but switched his attention back to the computer with a forced sigh and began to type.

"Faye!"

"Yes, Doctor?" she answered, face totally devoid of expression.

"Do you know anything about nanobots?"

"Only what I've read in university textbooks."

"OK, that helps, I wrote a few of those…Martha!" he exclaimed, pointing to her with an exuberant finger. "Anything, anything at all? No textbooks, though, just anything, you know, else?"

She squeezed her eyebrows together as though straining to hold her breath, but burst out with a fierce shake of the head. "Sorry, nothing. Except textbooks, but…"

"Yes, well, like I said, doesn't help. Mickey! You seem to be on a role today; first you slug me, then you upstage me at my own game! Got something?"

"Think I might, Doctor," he replied, eyes intent upon the screen. "C'mere and take a look."

He began his explanation. "See, this hospital, the…uh…Adam Thurensbard - "

"Alan Trumansburg's Center for Medicinal Care and Treatment," recited Faye, rolling her eyes.

"Yeah, that, well, they're not just a hospital, I think."

"How do you mean, not just a hospital?" Faye asked, concern rising in her eyes.

"They've got this research laboratory - erm - thing hidden in one of the rooms, apparently. Well, that's probably what it is. It don't look right, see, because the blueprints don't match up with the schematics they show you in the lift and the lobby and such. According to the blueprints, there's one extra room in this building." He stopped for breath, swiping a hand across his sweaty forehead. "I'd be willing to bet that's there for a reason, and it seems awfully suspicious that it would happen to occur in the same hospital where an alien disease is active."

"Oh, yes, of course," agreed the Doctor, also searching the screen with his eyes. "Can I - ?" he asked, gesturing at the computer.

"Sure, help yourself." Mickey stood to let him sit in the uncomfortable chair.

"I think you might be onto something here, Mickey," he muttered as he typed furiously. "Where did you go to find all this information? What sources did you use?"

"Oh, the usual. Hacked into the city's records, did a bit of surfing on the Web, and there it was."

"Ah," said the Doctor enigmatically, "but you forgot one very good, if not totally reliable, place for data."

"What's that, then?"

"Chat forums!" he cried happily, swinging around. "Always give a listen to the poor, lifeless - figuratively speaking, of course - souls who spend their days discussing theories on the Internet! And here, I think we might have something to thank them for."

"What is it?" asked Martha, peering as best she could at the site.

"According to the theorists, it is in fact some sort of laboratory. There's some dispute about what exactly they're doing in there, but I could guess, what with all these horribly convenient coincidences - "

"Nanobots!" cried three triumphant voices.

"Correctamundo! Oh, hell, I thought I'd never use that word again…anyway! Yes, you're absolutely right! Or, you probably are, that is. Mickey, d'you happen to know which room exactly is the "lost" one?"

"Room 1313," said Mickey promptly.

The Doctor rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Oh, now that's original. Why's it always have to be something superstitious, why can't it be something nice, like - oh, I dunno - "453"? Or just plain "101"? Why's it always "13" or "666"?"

No one answered, assuming correctly that they were rhetorical questions, and a few moments of silence ensued.

"Ga - "

"Don't you start that again," the Doctor cut off, giving her a meaningful look.

"Sorry," Martha apologized, smiling slightly.

"Doctor?" asked Faye urgently, worry clouding her eyes.

"Hmm, yes?"

"You said they could get in through open flesh, didn't you?"

"Right I did, what's your point?"

Faye glanced around nervously, rubbing her hands together. "It's just…well…erm…" Her eyes flitted back and forth between the ceiling and the Doctor's hands, now gripping the armrests of the chair.

Martha swayed slightly, realizing where she was going. "And you said it was…highly contagious? And…very quick to act?"

"Right again; it was a plague, after all. So what…" He trailed off, grasping what they were saying, and slowly turned his palms over.

Everyone stared in horror at the eight minute, moon-shaped cuts that lay there, just the size of a fingernail.

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AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! HAHA! HAHAHA! HA! another cliffie!!!!! and a big one this time!!!! wheeeee I luuuuuuuuuurve being evil!!! ha!

you remember how he got those, right? when Jackie was telling the story of Rose and he was clenching his fists? yeah it was then. chapter 10 if you didn't know, Rose's Condition.