Thanks for the reviews, everyone, and as usual, sorry for the wait.

Panic turned the Doctor's mind into a lunatic asylum full of jabbering voices. There was a weeping angel directly behind his Ponds, he could only see the monster's shadow, which apparently did not count, and if someone didn't do something soon, everyone was going to be dead.

The Doctor's feet were apparently in the same completely insane state as his brain, because they, without receiving any conscious orders from the Doctor's mind, compelled him to run like a drunken giraffe. He knew there was no way he could reach the hole before the angel murdered his Ponds, but he decided to forget that inconvenient fact just then. It was the same compulsion that made people run after cars that had just driven off with their loved ones unwillingly aboard, though they never, in the long history of movie chases, ever caught the kidnapper's car.

The Doctor had covered half the distance between himself and the light when something plowed into him and sent his sprawling. He rolled several times before coming to a stop in a cloud of dust. He lay there, stunned for a moment before coming to his senses. With effort and without the full use of his right arm, he managed to sit up.

Whatever had collided with him felt as though it had nearly broken his humerus. Under normal circumstances, that would have been a perfectly good excuse to call for a time-out and take a moment to ensure there were no bone shards protruding. There was no time for that now, though. Any potential compound fractures would have to wait.

Trying to move his aching right arm as little as possible, the Doctor staggered to his feet. He looked ahead and up at the hole in the ceiling. To his infinite relief, the three shadows were still present and, as he watched, one of the non-winged ones shifted. That meant his Ponds were alive and had somehow managed to get the angel in their sight before it got them in its claws.

The Time Lord got his feet moving, though this time they didn't have quite so much manic energy. Being knocked senseless had taken some of the spirit out of him, and seeing that his Ponds had some sort of grasp on their situation allowed him to think rationally again. He realized he had to be alert and more cautious than ever, because there was at least one mobile angel down here with him. If he was being honest about his situation, in all likelihood four angels were hunting him. A damaged arm would be the least of his worries if they decided to finish him instead of knock him around a bit.

As terrifying as it was to be helpless while killers from the dawn of the universe pecked at you, there was nothing the Doctor could do except keep on keeping on. He had no tricks up his sleeves for freezing the four angels, and it was so dark in the basement an angel would be within striking distance before he spotted it. Whatever was going to happen would happen. His only option was to head for the light and alert the Ponds of his presence.

"Amy, did you just hear a noise down there? Like something hitting the floor, maybe?" Rory asked.

"Forget about noises and worry about the angel! And whatever you do, don't blink," Amy replied.

"But what if it was the Doctor?"

"He'd tell you the same thing I'm telling you. No matter what made the noise I didn't hear, it isn't as important as making sure we don't die."

The Doctor was now close enough to hear the Ponds' conversation. Just a bit farther and he would be able to stare up into the hole, get the angel in his sights, and then alert the Ponds without any risk of startling them into blinking simultaneously. Once they were united, and hopefully close enough to hear him even with his puny little squeak of a voice, then they could think of a plan to rescue the Doctor from the dingy hole he was trapped in.

Perhaps ten steps from his goal, and just as he was beginning to hope for the best, the Doctor felt merciless talons slash into his back. The stone claws shredded the Doctor's tweed jacket as though it was made of wet paper, ripped through his shirt, and opened five blazing lines of agony that started at his shoulder and ran diagonally downward. The Doctor made a strangled wheeze that would have been a scream if his throat had been in a more cooperative mood.

His momentum carried him the final few steps and he collapsed in the circle of light he'd been trying so hard to reach. The Doctor panted raggedly, each breath mushrooming a little cloud of dust from the floor. He hadn't met such nasty claws since the last time he'd wound up in the late Cretaceous and a crafty little pack of raptors had tried to recruit him for the coming mass extinction.

"I know that wasn't my imagination."

"I heard it, too. And it sounded close."

"Like it was right down there. In the hole."

"One of us should look, and one of us should watch the angel. You blink too much, so I'll keep an eye on the angel."

"Right. Whenever you're ready."

"Okay, go."

The division of labor situated, Amy stared at the angel and Rory peered down into the basement. The Doctor was impossible to miss, sprawled out on the floor with his arms stretched out in front of him. The bright splashes of blood on the Doctor's jacket were even more eye-catching.

"Oh my God, Amy, it's the Doctor! And he's hurt!"

"What?"

"Doctor, can you hear me? Doctor? If you're alive, move. I think that was movement. Doctor, if that was movement, do it again. Okay, yeah, definitely movement. He's alive."

The Doctor groaned and lifted his head. He saw Rory looking down on him like a human version of Ceiling Cat. Despite the pain associated with the motion, the Doctor propped himself up on his elbows and offered Rory a brief wave.

"Hello, Mr. Pond!" the Doctor said.

"I didn't quite catch that," Rory replied.

The Doctor coughed and rubbed at his throat. His voice, it seemed, was still so traumatized by the whole strangling experience that it remained in hiding. That was going to make securing rescue all the more difficult.

Lying in the dirt like a mole cricket wasn't going to get him out of danger, either. He needed to get on his feet, which would hopefully put his mouth close enough to Rory's ears to allow for some information to pass between them. The only thing stopping him from springing to his feet was the already immense pain that burned through his back and shoulder. Any movement would aggravate his injuries and the Doctor was not looking forward to testing the limits of his pain tolerance just then.

No matter how badly it was going to hurt—spoilers, unbelievably badly—the Doctor had to bite the bullet and drag himself off the floor. Since he had no bullet to bite, he had to resort to clenching his jaws and thinking happy thoughts. The Doctor sucked a deep breath in through his teeth and forced himself up onto his hands and knees. His happy thoughts exploded and rained down in tragic bits.

"You're almost there, Doctor. You can… Hold on a second, Amy needs to blink."

The Doctor joined Amy in taking a momentary respite. He gathered up the nerve and willpower that had fled after the initial burst of pain in preparation of the second half of the ordeal. The Time Lord couldn't be sure, but he doubted standing would alleviate the feeling that someone had doused his back in petrol and then struck a match.

The moment Rory announced that Amy was fine, at least for the next thirty seconds, the Doctor struggled off his hands and knees and back into a bipedal position. As badly as it hurt to move so quickly, at least the worst of it was over now. If he'd tried to stand in stages, the cumulative pain of each small step would have added up and surpassed one giant increase.

"Can you hear me now?" the Doctor asked.

Rory shook his head but was then struck with an idea. He lay down on his belly and leaned down over the hole. The Doctor wasn't thrilled with the arrangement—knowing Rory, he'd somehow end up falling into the hole and landing on his head—but couldn't exactly tell Rory off for making bad choices.

"You're going to fall in," the Doctor said.

This time Rory nodded excitedly. "I heard you! And no, I won't."

The Doctor had no desire to argue. He did, however, have a desire to get out of the cellar before he was assaulted again. The only reason the weeping angel or angels weren't tearing him to ribbons was Rory's protective gaze.

"How'd you get down there, anyway? Did you not see the hole? And what happened to your voice?" Rory asked. "And where's that angel you were hunting? Did you find it?"

Rory would have continued to blitz the Doctor with questions if the Time Lord hadn't pressed a finger to his own lips. Rory got the message and gave the Doctor time to answer.

"Yes, I found the angel. Or it found me. Either way, it nicked my voice. But then I got it back by punching myself. It was a psychological block I had to break with pain. Leave it at that. Then I lost my voice a second time when the angel strangled me to the brink of death. Not as bad as it sounds, actually. The last minute was serene. When I came to my senses, I was in the basement. I saw your shadows, tried to reach you, and did not run the gauntlet unscathed. But I'm still alive, and I'd like to stay that way. So get me out of here," the Doctor said.

Rory's mouth dropped open and he gaped at the Doctor. He knew danger stalked the Doctor like an obsessive ex-girlfriend, but there was no way the Doctor had managed to get himself in that much trouble in half an hour. Was there? Because if there was, the universe was a much scarier and more malignant place than Rory cared to imagine.

"My luck can honestly be that bad. But if we don't think of something soon, it's going to get so much worse. I do not want to die down here!" the Doctor said.

Rory closed his mouth and gave the Doctor a curt nod. "I understand."

"What do you understand? Rory, what's happened to the Doctor?" Amy asked.

"An angel's scratched him up a bit, but he's on his feet and everything. He needs a way out of the basement, though," Rory reported.

"Can't you just, I don't know, reach down there and grab his hand?" Amy suggested.

"It's too far; I couldn't reach, even if he jumped."

"I— I need to blink. Watch the angel and then we'll think of something."

Rory looked at the angel and suppressed a shudder. Selfish or not, he was glad Amy was the one with the resilient eyelids. Watching the stone monster even for a few seconds made Rory's skin crawl.

"We need some sort of rope. Do you suppose shoelaces would work?" Amy said.

"Too thin. Even if they held, they'd cut into your hands," Rory replied.

"Then what about… Your belt! Take it off."

"What? Now? Can't this wait? I mean—"

Amy groaned. "Not like that."

"Of course not like that! Especially not with that thing standing there. That would be weird. I'll just take off my belt, then, and use it to rescue the Doctor. Right." Rory blushed as brightly as a ripe strawberry as he fumbled to undo his belt without losing his trousers in the process.

As though he were fishing, Rory dropped one end of the belt into the hole. The Doctor found he had precious little to hold onto—why couldn't Amy have married someone with more of a waist?—and clutched the belt with both hands. The deep slashes across his back throbbed like an impacted tooth as he moved.

"Ready?" Rory asked.

Unless they intended to wait days for his injuries to heal, there was no use in postponing and prolonging the misery. The Doctor held on for dear life as Rory began to haul him up. As soon as the stress on his shoulders increased, the intensity of the pain ratcheted up. The Doctor bit his lip and tried to force his mind to focus on something asides from the growing agony. His obstinate brain refused to let him change subjects and instead dwelled with grim intensity on the increasingly shrill signals the Doctor's nerves were sending.

Rory did not possess the lifting power of a construction crane, and pulling the Doctor from the basement was tedious and difficult work. By the time Rory actually managed to get the Time Lord's feet off the ground, sweat was beginning to bead his forehead. Rory had no spare hand with which to wipe this sweat, so it inevitably began to trickle down his face. One particularly sadistic drop of sweat dripped into his eye. Before he could think about the consequences of what he was doing, Rory automatically blinked at the salty sting.

The moment Rory's eyes closed the angel that had been lurking on the periphery of the hole, just out of sight, made its move. It surged forward, arm extended, ready to seize the Doctor and drag him back into the darkness.

The Doctor had been looking upward the whole time and had no idea of the danger he was in. He was oblivious to lonely assassin's attack until he felt its hand close around his boot. Realization struck the Doctor like a battering ram and he looked down, getting the angel in view a millisecond before it could yank him from his improvised rope.

"Rory!" the Doctor shrieked with absolutely no compunctions against sounding like a little girl, as some of the bravest people he knew were at one time little girls.

Rory opened his watering eyes and promptly screamed like the Doctor, only loudly enough to startle Amy to the point she, too, screamed.

"Wait. What are we all screaming about?" Amy asked.

"The angel's got the Doctor's foot! Doctor, lose the boot!"

The Doctor twisted his leg and gave it a good shake. His tightly-laced boot remained both on his foot and in the angel's grasp. The Time Lord swore. He was not losing any more of his personal effects to the bloody weeping angels. They'd taken his bowtie, hair, jacket, shirt, and voice and he was not giving them one more of his favorite possessions unless they pried it off his cold, dead corpse.

The immobile angel provided the Doctor with a foothold so he no longer had to hang there like a Peking duck in a shop window. The Doctor clambered onto the angel, sat down on top of its head, and began pulling on his trapped foot. He could have easily unlaced the boot and escaped, but once he had decided he would not be leaving any more of his clothing behind, nothing was going to stand in his way.

"Give! Me! Back! My! Boot!" The Doctor grabbed his ankle and heaved. His boot popped from the angel's hand and the Time Lord nearly tumbled off his perch. He would have suffered a nasty fall if the angel's wings hadn't been there to catch him.

The Doctor sat cradled against the angel's out-spread wing, panting, hardly able to believe he was still alive and had all his clothes and physical features intact. He might have stayed there, shocked out of his senses, if something hadn't slapped him in the face. The Doctor looked over and saw Rory's belt hovering alongside him.

"If you stand up, Doctor, I can reach you and get you out of there," Rory said.

The Doctor looked up at Rory and then down at the angel. He took hold of the top of the angel's wing and carefully propped himself up. Keeping one hand on the angel to steady himself, the Doctor extended his other hand. Rory grasped him around the wrist and pulled.

A minute later the Doctor was laying sprawled out on his stomach with Rory sitting slumped next to him. Though Rory had to face the angel while the Doctor took a breather, he still had a smile on his face. He'd done quite brilliantly, pulling the Doctor from the claws of certain death, and all without losing his trousers in the process. That reminded him to seek out his belt and put it back on before his luck ran out and everyone learned that he preferred his undergarments to be polka-dotted.

"Hello, boys, have to blink here," Amy said.

"Don't worry, Rory, I've got this," the Doctor said. He turned himself around using his elbows and stared at the angel.

The moment Amy's eyes stopped burning, Rory's decided they'd been open long enough and wanted a rest. The Doctor was forced to spin around again and lean over the hole into the basement. It was painfully obvious to the three of them that this arrangement could not continue for long. The Doctor was in no shape to play watchdog, and as bad at staring as Rory was, the time when he would blink and the basement angel would vanish was no doubt rapidly approaching.

"We all know this is rubbish. Now what do we do about it?" Rory asked.

The Doctor considered it for a moment. He had three pairs of blinking eyes, and two angels to split between them. He also happened to have two pairs of unblinking eyes. If he could somehow get the angels to look at each other…

"Got it! Oh yes, very nice plan here! Clear the path for the most clever plan you've ever heard!" the Doctor announced.

The Doctor's voice hadn't improved much since his rescue, but at such a close distance Amy and Rory were able to get the gist of the Doctor's words. They strained their ears while he elaborated on his humble little scheme.

"We take this angel and we shove it into the hole on top of the angel already down there," the Doctor said. "They end up staring at each other, and presto! Oh, presto, that sounds nice. I'm going to start using that."

"That's lovely, but what about their mates? Won't the other angels come and save them?" Amy asked.

"If given the opportunity, yes. But I've got another plan to deal with them," the Doctor replied.

"What is it?"

The Doctor grinned an enormous, foolish grin. "You're going to wish you'd never asked."

TBC