"Let's just leave," Amy tugged on The Doctor's coat. "This doesn't seem right."

"Amy," The Doctor turned his head towards the door. "I don't think we can."

"What? Of course we-" Amy tried to open the door of the restaurant, but it was bolted shut, no matter how much force she applied to the handle. "Can't."

"So we're stuck in here?" Rory rolled his eyes, trying to push open the mass of wood himself. "Brilliant."

Knowing they wouldn't be able to go anywhere, the group edged forward into the centre of the room in complete silence, not wanting to draw the attention of the other three people in the restaurant. Rory shivered, mouthing a complaint about how cold it had suddenly become as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. Dean looked at him with a judgemental smirk, until the blast of cold air trickled along his neck too.

"It's not a ghost, is it?" Rory glared at Dean, looking for answers. "You said ghosts make the air go cold."

"I don't think it's cold enough." Dean grunted, running his eyes around the room. "We can't see our breath in the air."

"I" just..." Arthur tensed up, shivering as he leant desperately against the door. "I don't care about you trying to help or anything. I just want to go home."

"It's okay, Arthur," Christine gave him a pat on his shoulder. "We'll get out of here, okay? "

"Sonic it?" Rory suggested.

"I was getting to that," The Doctor nudged him out of the way, pulling the contraption from his pocket and chucking it on the floor when it failed to work. "We'll just have to wait. See if it opens later, and find out if there's another exit."

"Do we... talk to the other... the other Doctors?" Dean tried to word his question correctly.

"Something doesn't seem right. If I was here, I would have remembered. My past self- the one with the woman over there- would have remembered too, and both of us would have avoided coming here like the plague. I... I guess we have to talk to them."

...

The Doctor wandered over to the pair, his eyes fixated on the woman. Glorious, glorious Donna. He bit his lip, trying to control his delight in being able to see her again. He fought the urge to shove his hands around her and hug her until the end of the world, but he realised that that might have been a little strange, so instead he cleared his throat, making himself heard.

"Well isn't this strange?" he smiled at his old self.

"This..." the man in the brown trench coat laughed. "I'm not even sure how to reply."

"I'm The Doctor," he introduced himself.

"Well... So am I."

"Hello there, Doctor."

"One of us has to leave," the older Doctor spoke bluntly. "It's too dangerous."

"Well we can't."

"What do you mean we can't?"

"Door won't open."

"Sonic it."

"Don't you think I've already tried that?"

"Have you tried ramming it down?"

"I think you'd have heard if I had."

"Well you should. Clearly that bow tie is cutting off the supply of oxygen to your brain."

"Hey! Bow ties are cool!"

They stood in silence for a minute, observing their surroundings. There was something they both had missed. Something they most definitely shouldn't have missed. Something the should have been practically impossible to miss.

"This isn't a restaurant," Donna blurted out. "How could we not notice that this isn't a restaurant?"

"But of course it's a-" the younger Doctor "Of course! It's a perception filter. Making us think we're in a cosy little restaurant with stale food when we're actually in-"

"A prison," the other Doctor finished his sentence.

"I'm hearing all this talk about 'Doctors' and 'perception filters," the man on the other side of the restaurant in the leather jacket had walked over, a grin spreading across his face. "Mind if I join in?"

"Were my ears ever that big?" The Doctor wearing a trench coat raised his hand to his ears.

"Excuse me, these are my ears not yours," a smile filled his lips as he looked at the two men. "I'm...not even sure what's going on here."

"Well," Donna took it upon herself to explain. "You're The Doctor, he's The Doctor and he's-"

"We're all The Doctor!" he laughed. "Sorry, um... So this face will become that face and then... that face?"

"Basically, yes."

"This could get confusing. We can't all call ourself The Doctor."

"We should name ourselves by what incarnation of The Doctor we," the oldest Doctor explained. "Nine, Ten, Eleven."

"Can we get back to the part where this isn't a restaurant?" Donna expressed her concern as she observed her surroundings.

...

Instead of being in the restaurant, they'd actually found themselves in a completely different kind of room. On the right, there were rows of cells, identifiable by the rusting iron bars of the gates. At the end of the room where the large group from the TARDIS had been standing, the large white door -which looked like it was made of wood, but was actually a metal sliding door- slightly resembling the one from the restaurant that had refused to open occupied the wall, held shut by an electrical lock. The three Doctors and Donna stood at the other side of the room, the counter of the restaurant having been replaced by another door, this time made of metal and bolted shut.

Still shivering with nerves, most of them hadn't bothered to check if the cells were empty. Arthur, the boy-who at this point seemed like nothing more than a troubled little kid- proved to be more perceptive than the others had first thought, as he noticed the woman sitting in the furthest corner of the twenty or so tiny little cages.

"Mum!" he called out as he darted across to the side that the three Doctors stood as they tried to make sense of what was happening.