Chapter Two: The Lonely End Continues

The whirring intensified as she vaguely heard the melodic voices from before. Odd words coming through;

Tardis. Doctor. Uniform.

Ayla couldn't take the pain in her body.

Ayla did not expect her first thought, or action to be a fist flying into soft tissue. Nor the first sound to be of someone groaning in pain. Her eyes were open, she thought. But she couldn't see.

Why couldn't she?

A melodic tone came from her left, and Ayla flung her head to face the sound. It was... a... voice? The pacing of the melodic tone certainly seemed like words. But they just sounded like gibberish to her. Another melodic tone, from in front of her, gruff and deeper. Male obviously, replied to the first singing voice. Ayla made to rub her eyes, to clear the sandy feeling from them and allow self-healing. To have sight returned, that would be marvellous.

Things didn't go quite as planned. At first, her wrists were grabbed. The firm grip accompanied by that same singing voice of the man. It was hurried, a warning?

Ayla reacted as she often did. With instinct. She took a step back, feeling the cold familiar touch of metal. Wrists tingling as she forced them to relax. After years of being on that ship, she had been in a medical suite long enough to know her body with her eyes shut.

Funny, she thought ironically. In a quick action Ayla jerked her arms wide, her left foot (she hoped) connected to the chest of the man and all at once she was free. Ayla felt the metal behind, realising it was a bar, she ducked low and returned to her original plan.

Eye rubbing.

Instead, she screamed as sharp pain greeted her. Painful, wet stickiness laced her fingers and out of nowhere a voice. The voice was unexpected. It was low, yet undeniably clear and laced with a hint of power. An educated voice, with hard sarcasm;

"Wouldn't rub that if I were you. Bit of a nasty wound. Metal shrapnel you've got in your eyes. Painful. But you've hit my friend you see, and I don't particularly like violence," the voice was quick, sing-song like the others, a clear warning to Ayla. The voice moved closer to Ayla and she had no time to react before a high-pitched whirring sound emanated from her ear. Exactly where her temporal implant was located.

Ayla's left hand snatched itself to the bone behind her ear, a pained groan exiting between teeth as she fell immediately to her side, on the ground.

Attempting to control the writhing in her body. The absolute pain from within reminded of her of the first experiments. The whirring sounds shifted pitches, constantly pairing new tones, unbearably annoying. Like a wasp, she couldn't kill.

The whirring intensified as she vaguely heard the melodic voices from before. Odd words coming through; Tardis. Doctor. Uniform.

Ayla couldn't take the pain in her body. She shouldn't have left the ship, she shouldn't have run. She should have stood up and taken her punishments and experiments like the pet she was. In the fetal position, Ayla begged like she never had before. "I was wrong," Ayla managed to get out between the pain and painful tears, "please. Stop. Please. I shouldn't have left. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

And to her utter surprise, it did. Completely, and the only sounds that greeted her ears were her own heavy breaths and the constant low hum of wherever the hell she was. The hum was comforting, so Ayla concentrated on it. Like the calming singing of her mother's voice from before. The hum almost felt like a hug. She eventually heard the two singing voices from before.

"I told you to stay back Rory," a female voice, Ayla recognised in relief.

"She was hurt, and I could help," his voice was still obviously winded and Ayla had no time to entertain herself with their bickering.

"Translator fixed," the voice in her ear was still thick with a warning. A chill shot through Ayla as she felt two hands grip her shoulders and lift her into a sitting position. Tremors shook her, and Ayla coughed painfully as her ribs crunched.

Freaking ow, her brain provided unhelpfully.

The voice didn't seem to notice or care. The fluidity of his tone seemed both amused and full of threat. "Now why don't you tell us who you are, hm?"

Ayla was shocked. Her name? That's all this weird cut-glass voice wanted, fine he could have it. But her shock was met with another verbiage of words.

"It's not a hard question-"

She'd had enough of his voice and interjected, "Ayla, that's my name."

There was a beat of silence, and to Ayla's annoyance it was not the voice next to her that replied.

"Doctor, what did she say?" the lilting brogue of the woman announced. Ayla would have blinked in shock. Well, she tried and instantly was hissing in pain while her brain supplied thoughts; Hadn't this person said the translator was fixed? And what the heck kind of name is Doctor?

"What?" the Doctor replied to her question.

"What?" the woman repeated.

"What?" The Doctor directs this at Ayla, and before any of them could repeat themselves in another round of singular questions Ayla replied;

"Ayla. My name is, Ayla."

Silence again. "Nope," the woman replied, "didn't get a word of it. You Rory?" Another silence. "Well?"

"Well, I-" Rory was cut off by the woman, "See, nothing Doctor."

"Strange," suddenly the voice was nowhere near her and Ayla felt her body flop to the floor ribs refusing to stay in the crunched seating position. The hum had intensified like it was searching for Ayla...to comfort her.

What a nice sound, Ayla coughed painfully to herself. An orchestra of other noises began, as the so-named Doctor yammered on.

Her peace was disturbed by the voice of Rory. "Uh, look... I can help you. You're hurt. I'm a...nurse."

What was a nurse? Ayla wasn't in a position to really reply or ask at this point. Coughing was starting to become her new exhale. The humming was getting louder and all Ayla wanted was to sleep.

To no longer be in pain. Was that too much to ask?

No, the hum seemed to reply, you are safe here.

Well, Ayla didn't know if she would say 'safe' but the thoughts left her as the hum took on the sound of her mother's voice.

You're running out of time, it pulsed as Rory began pushing and prodding her. A scuffle sounded with the woman's voice; "Stay away from her Rory!"

"Amy she's dying!"

So this is was what dying was, Ayla could feel her lips curling up in a smile despite the gasping coughs. She had always wondered what this would feel like.

No more experiments.

"Peace at last," Ayla felt her lips murmur. The hum seemed to refute this in her mother's snapping voice, You needed a doctor. I found you a doctor.

Ayla's breath caught uncomfortably and she had never thought oxygen would feel wet. Or taste so thick. She tried to breathe in through her nose but everything was just being stopped by that wetness. This was uncomfortable. Ayla didn't like this, and with a final pulse of adrenaline Ayla's eyelids wrenched themselves open - desperately looking for the oxygen she couldn't feel.

Not that she saw anything.

And despite the strong humming, Ayla was suddenly very cold.

"DOCTOR!" the combined voices of Amy and Rory had the Eleventh Doctor spin on his heel dramatically. And he blinked in shock as their new female guest convulsed on the floor. Eyes, what was left of them, streaming down her face.

The Doctor winced at the amount of agony he could feel emanating from the woman. But things weren't adding up, and normally he liked challenges... this one just - weirded him out.

Taking half a step closer, simply to look the stranger over; her hair looked like cascading fire, deep red roots fading to a pale blonde currently stained with blood and plastered to a grey uniformed body. The Doctor had never seen this uniform, nor did he recognise the tattoos lining the neck of the Stowaway.

The Doctor had just finished rebuilding the bedroom for his Love-Dovey companions. Just re-built his ship, and after some intense running around, saved his Amy Pond from some rather nasty pasties. And finally, he found out about River Song. Saved her, and, well... well time is full of things. Honestly, the group were trying to enjoy some serious downtime after all of this mess.

So when the three of them entered into the console to find her phasing about the Tardis as if she owned it. The Doctor had been unhappy with that. Angry honestly.

The violence that accompanied her, he was most dissatisfied with but the thing which annoyed him. Didn't frankly make any sense to a Time Lord. He didn't understand her words.

Ayla was the name of this Stowaway, it was the only repeated thing the Doctor heard, but the Doctor spoke all languages understood them and now he couldn't?

Not good.

Rory was next to her doing whatever human thing he did to her chest, so the Doctor looked to Amy.

"Pond, are you sure your ears are working?" Amy gave him that look. Not one he particularly understood but he assumed it meant the Doctor had asked a rude question. "Rory?" the Doctor asked hopefully, interrupting the man's rapid movements.

"What?"

"Your ears, are they working?"

Rory's anger confused the Doctor even more, "Yes?"

Was that supposed to be his answer or question, the Doctor pondered, but beautiful Pond had his back.

"He meant did you understand her?" Amy translated and Rory shook his head violently in the negative returning his accusatory glare to the Doctor.

"Now you're supposed to be a Doctor. Come do some Doctoring or she'll actually be dead," Rory snapped.

The Tardis gave an uncharacteristically loud vibration through the floor seeming to zap the Doctor's feet.

He yelped, jumping lightly on the spot before going to stabilize the Stowaway Ayla.

Hopefully.