Part Three

The Doctor slowly became aware of the fact that he was awake as light began to permeate through his closed eyelids, even though he had no recollection of the intention to go to sleep in the first place.

He groaned softly to himself, forcing his eyes open with great effort and then wincing at the light which poured mercilessly in. It took him a moment of adjustment to realise that the view he was looking at was in fact the TARDIS's ceiling. He'd fallen asleep on the floor at the base of the control console, the sonic screwdriver he'd been tinkering with still tucked in his loose grip. A confused frown spread across his features. He hadn't done this since he'd drunk that yangalan wine on Yanga 6. Even then it was more a case of passing out than falling asleep. Besides, he had only slept three days ago, no where near long enough ago to warrant a Time Lord collapsing from exhaustion.

Reaching up with heavy arms, he used the edge of the console to pull himself unsteadily to feet. Something wasn't right with him, that much was obvious. His limbs felt like they were made of lead, his body felt like it had been kicked. He could quite cheerfully fall back to the floor and sleep again.

What was wrong with him? Was he ill? Was it heat exhaustion caused from wearing a leather jacket on a desert planet? Was this what happened when you ate too many chips?

Mildly concerned, he staggered his way slowly towards the rear door, every step becoming gradually easier as his blood seemed to getting pumping again, although he couldn't entirely shake off the feeling that any movement was far too much like hard work. He needed to go and check on Rose though and that thought kept him going. Maybe it had been something on the planet that had affected him, and her human body was much more vulnerable than his Gallifreyan one. He needed to check she was all right.

The Doctor made his way laboriously to her room, still feeling like each step was an effort but at least able to do it without collapsing in an exhausted heap. He knocked on the door sharply when he arrived. She'd kill him if he just barged in and she was getting changed or something. Or at least she wouldn't let him forget it in a hurry and there was a lot of leverage to be had from the guilt of accidentally seeing someone naked. For a start she could force him go back and meet her mum and that drip Mickey again.

He knocked a second time, more loudly in case she was asleep and hadn't heard the first. There was no response.

"Rose?" he called, knocking yet again, banging his fist against the door this time.

Still no answer.

He turned the handle and pushed the door open slightly, ready to cover his eyes if she was in a state not fit for visitors. Not that he assumed she was. He'd been making enough noise to wake the dead.

His blood ran a little colder at that. What'd he go and put that thought in his mind for?

Peering inside with trepidation, he was almost pleased to see the room was empty and still.

Frowning though, he stepped inside, the tiredness in his own body all but forgotten. The sheets of her bed were crumpled showing they'd been slept in so she must have been here. Hadn't she said something about having a shower? A horrible thought crossed his mind.

"Oh crap," he muttered, suddenly panicked as he raced to the adjacent bathroom as fast as his still recovering body would allow. What if she'd fallen asleep there? She could have been there for hours by now.

He pushed the door open with a bang, deciding that her life was more important than any sense of embarrassment she might feel.

"Rose?" he called out again, alarm laced in his voice.

Fortunately the bathroom was empty. Unfortunately, that meant she was still missing.

As he walked back to the control room the possibilities ran through his head along with a sense of mild panic. This wasn't like him, he didn't worry about things like this. He weighed up the options calmly and sensibly, then acted in the most appropriate way. That was what he did. How a Time Lord was meant to behave.

But this was different because it was Rose. The little human who somehow, in his opinion, seemed to eclipse the majority of her species. Who ran along side him, hand in hand, loving the journey and not worrying about what would happen. Who he had selfishly taken away from her home and loved ones, dangling the possibilities of excitement and adventure in front of her knowing she wouldn't be able to resist. Who he was finding it increasingly difficult to imagine being without. Who he was more fond of than perhaps he had the right to be.

He pushed all those thoughts from his mind. This wasn't helping either of them. He needed to be calm and logical and figure out what had happened. If he could identify any alien species in the universe from a couple of random facts about them, finding one human girl on one planet shouldn't be too much of a problem.

Now he certain they had shut the TARDIS door behind them, which meant it was impossible for anyone to have gotten in and taken her. Once closed up the place was virtually impregnable. That left two other options, either she was still in here somewhere - perhaps exploring, perhaps collapsed and asleep like he had been - or she had left of her own accord. It was easy to check out the first.

Back in the control room he went straight to the console and ran a scan for life signs inside the TARDIS. The only other organic material it was picking up, apart from that in its own systems, was himself and the flower he had brought her. He ran it again just in case, not believing she would have been so stupid as to go outside alone. Not to mention that she hadn't worn the wig which he had spotted dumped on her floor. He couldn't believe that after his little lecture earlier she would go out without it.

It seemed though he had given her too much credit as the scan came back with the same result once again.

He was silent for a moment as an angry frown spread across his face. Then he swore loudly in his native language, slamming his fist painful into the console as if it was its fault.

How could she be so bloody stupid?

After all they'd been through so far, after all his warnings, what on earth would possess her to go out alone? What was wrong with her? What was she trying to do – scare him to death?

He pulled a device from its docking station and rushed towards the door with furious steps. It was a tracking device that he could configure to pick up any species, and since she was the only real human here she should be pretty easy to find.

He just hoped she hadn't gone too far.


The afternoon sun was just as hot as it had been the previous day when they had walked through the busy streets to Nefertiti's palace. At least he assumed that had been the previous day. It had been getting towards sunset when they had reached the TARDIS and now the sun was high in the sky once more. What possibly could have made him fall asleep on the floor for nearly 18 hours he hadn't worked out yet. At the moment he was more concerned about finding Rose. Preferable safe and well.

He stopped as the signal from the tracking device strengthened and settled again. He looked around to see what it was referring to. When he spotted it, The Doctor gave the machine a sharp, irritated smack, but it refused to change its mind about the result it was giving him. According to the readout, Rose was in the building dead ahead. A building that just happened to be a none too reputable looking tavern in a very unsavoury part of town. Why she would come here he didn't know.

That was assuming she had come here of her own will, of course.

He had been certifiably furious with her when he had first left the TARDIS. He had fully intended to find her and drag her back by her ears, giving her lecture about how if she did that again he'd kill her. Or strand her on the planet of six foot slugs. Surely a suitable punishment for nearly giving him a double heart attack.

But as he had searched the surrounding streets and market where he had honestly expected to find her, and not come up with a single trace, his temper had calmed and his worry had grown, along with a certainty that Rose just wasn't that thick. Nor so cruel as to do something she knew would worry him half to death.

Although, he thought a little grimly, she didn't seem to have very many qualms about leaving her boyfriend and mum behind to wonder what had happened to her when the prospect of adventure had come beckoning. Maybe someone had offered her more than what he could and she'd dumped him too.

He immediately shook that unjust and ungracious thought away. No, that wasn't Rose, she wouldn't do that. Although he knew it sounded big headed of him to think so, he truly believed that her decision to come with him wasn't just because of what he could offer her, but because she liked the idea of going on an adventure with him in particular. That she felt the same instant connection to him as he had felt for her. The one that had made him go back and ask her a second time when she had refused his first offer.

True, he hadn't known her all that long but he just understood that this wasn't something she was likely to do unless there was a very good reason or she had no choice. Besides, after her scares on the space station and in the funeral parlour, he assumed she would have figured out that she was safer when he was with her, looking after her. Having arrived in such an unsavoury place just fanned his fears that something was definitely amiss.

As far as he could see there were two possibilities for this. One, she had somehow been taken from right under his nose and he was a total idiot who wasn't fit to look after a goldfish, or two, she had found him, been unable to wake him up and had gone to see if she could find some help.

The second one didn't seem all that likely though. She was more than smart enough to realise that there was a higher likelihood of finding something useful in the TARDIS, rather than out on the relatively primitive looking streets. It also didn't seem likely that she would have wandered this far when there were much more friendly looking places closer to where they had parked.

But why would someone take her and leave him behind? It didn't make sense. Unless they wanted something from him and were using her as a bargaining chip. Seemed rather pointless though to take a hostage and not tell anyone about it. It kind of defeated the object.

He shook his head, knowing all this speculation was getting him nowhere. Whatever the circumstances he had to get her back. It was as simple as that. He'd never forgive himself if anything happened to her and how would he ever face her mum?

'Hi, you probably don't remember me but I took your daughter on a joyride through space and time, and now she's dead. Sorry.'

That would hardly be a fitting end for the last of the Time Lords, strangled to death by an irate mum who hadn't had her roots dyed for too long.

The sun was gradually setting behind the sandstone buildings as he carefully watched the tavern, trying to figure out his next move. Normally he'd just barge in and make things up from there, but if Rose truly was in trouble he didn't want to endanger her further by doing anything rash. He need a slightly better plan than the bull in a china shop approach.

"Excuse me, mate," he said, catching the attention of a passing merchant heading home with his packed up goods, "What is this place?"

The man glanced back at the tavern and smiled lecherously.

"Ah, a haven for all men," he said with an odd kind of fondness, "The House of Flowers, home to the most beautiful dancing girls in the whole city. In any city I would wager. I do not know how that Hasani does it, but he is certainly the luckiest of men."

The Doctor nodded apprehensively as the situation suddenly seemed to become much clearer. Not that it was looking any better for Rose. Hadn't he told her not to take that bloody wig off? She was just asking for trouble. She was lucky it was just the ancient alternative of a pole dancing club rather than something more serious.

Assuming the conversation was over the merchant went on his way.

Starring back at the entrance, the Doctor decided that despite his preference for a well thought out plan, he had very little choice. Go in there, cause a ruckus, rescue Rose before she did anything she'd regret later, go back to Earth and get ice cream. It all seemed remarkably simply when he thought about it like that.

He crossed the street and walked confidently through the door, getting his jacket caught in the beaded curtain and almost bringing it down before he managed to untangle himself. Nice smooth entrance then, didn't draw any attention to himself at all.

The place was very dark inside, the windows boarded up and the dull wood interior lit by copious amounts of candles. There was a mild smell of something he couldn't quite place but which seemed to instantly make his head spin. He shook it, trying to clear his thoughts but he couldn't completely shake away that muzzy, cotton wool feeling he disliked so much.

He immediately headed straight for the first place you always did if you wanted to find something out in one of these places – the bar. The bartender was a man apparently in his early forties in human years and who, by the look of his complexion, hadn't seen daylight in quite some time.

"I'm looking for a girl," the Doctor said shortly, without any hint of an introduction.

"Aren't we all," the man replied lazily.

"Ah, but this is a particular girl," he pointed out, "About so high, long blonde hair, brown eyes, London accent. You can't miss her. Her name's Rose."

The bartender wasn't at all shocked by the Doctor's description of this usual looking girl, but instead he smiled, pleased, "News always travels fast here, doesn't it? Hasani got her new today. A rare beauty. And as your luck would have it, you are just in time for her."

The Doctor frowned, worried about what that was implying, "In time for her what?"

The bartender's reply was cut off when a band he hadn't noticed started playing music. It was soft, languid and hypnotic, and it didn't seem to help his muzzy brain in the slightest.

Then there was a stirring to the right of him and he glanced across to where a soft curtain had parted.

And there was Rose.

She wasn't wearing very much.

Little more than a red two piece bikini really with a scrap of cloth tied around her waist that was barely long enough to qualify as a skirt, and so see through it was hardly worth wearing it at all. In fact, she was wearing more jewellery than clothes, various gold ornaments, wrapped her around her arms, neck and legs.

The Doctor swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly feeling a little dry. The bartender placed a drink in his hand and he gratefully threw it back without hesitation.

"She is beautiful, no?" the bartender said, and the Doctor could hear him smiling even though his own attention was entirely fixed on Rose, "Hair like the golden sands, skin like fine white marble. You will enjoy her show I think."

The Doctor knew he should have been over there by now, wrapping his jacket around her shoulders and dragging her away from all the lecherous clientele who were making sure they got an eye full. But he couldn't seem to move and that wasn't just because he was transfixed by the beautiful, half naked woman. That heavy feeling had returned to his limbs once more and whilst his brain was screaming at them to co-operate they didn't seem interested in doing what they were asked. So instead he just watched, hypnotised as she began to move, swaying to the soft, mesmerising music. Her hips seeming to lead the rest of her body, the fluidity in the movements almost snake-like, although her gaze was all predator. Like a cat stalking with the most careful and assured steps.

Why was she doing this? Why was she letting them stare at her like that? The Rose he thought he knew would have smacked them one by now.

A singer joined in with the music, barely audible but somehow wafting lazily through his brain.

Watching her
Strolling in the night
So white
Wondering why
It's only after dark

She moved throughout the room, continuing at her slow, sultry pace. She stopped at every one of the small number of clientele, taking her time to dance for him in particular. Never touching, but never breaking eye contact.

In her eyes
A distant fire light
Burns bright
Wondering why
It's only after dark

Too late he realised she had reached him, last out of all the others present. He tried to force his body into some kind of action. It wasn't right. He had to push her away. Ger her out of here before some unscrupulous soul took advantage of her.

Or before he did something she'd never forgive.

'This is ridiculous', his brain was shouting at him. He wasn't some hormonally driven randy teenager who thought only of nothing else. He was a Time Lord, he was meant to be above stuff like this. Or at least more in control than most. He was meant to keep his head when all about him were loosing theirs. Yes, she was pretty. Beautiful even, but she was a human and only nineteen. She was Rose. He couldn't let anyone take advantage of her like this. Even his slack jawed starring felt like a betrayal. She trusted him to keep her safe.

But he couldn't tear his eyes away from the sway of her hips as she walked and all his complaints and protests didn't seem to matter as long as she kept moving towards him.

Something wasn't right here, he knew that much, but he was apparently unable to do anything about it.

I find myself in her room
Feel the fever of my doom
Falling falling
Through the floor
I'm knocking on the Devil's door

Then she was there, standing barely an inch in front of him, swaying and moving in way that seemed to burn into his brain and make his blood boil. She starred straight up at him, her eyes focused but without recognition, as if she herself was under some kind of spell.

Did she even know it was him?

"Rose?" he asked softly, struggling to find his voice.

There was nothing there. No response, no hint that she'd heard him.

"Rose," he repeated softly, pleading, knowing that his own resolving was fading and afraid because he didn't know why, "Please, you have to stop this. Wake up. Don't this, Rose. I care about you, I don't want to-"

His voice caught in his throat as she slid her hands up his chest, achingly slowly, slipping them under his jacket and round the back of his neck. Her fingers trailed lazy patterns there, making him shiver.

He starred into her eyes, but it wasn't Rose starring back. There was no sparkle there, no hint of her normal energy. She was empty.

She pulled softly, guiding his face towards hers, still looking fixedly into his eyes. She barely exerted any pressure at all but he was unable to stop himself from doing exactly what she wanted.

'No,' he thought to himself, 'This isn't right. She's not herself, she'll never forgive me.'

Then why couldn't he find the strength to stop her?

In my heart
A deep and dark
And lonely part
Wants her and
Waits for after dark

His mind was still screaming at him to make her stop but that somehow seemed very far away now as she moved closer towards him.

The moment before his lips met hers he thought he saw the hint of a crimson vapour at her corners of mouth and heard a small thud as the man next to him passed out, but any curiosity about either of those facts was wiped out the moment her lips met his with the softest of brushes. She was so warm, so comforting and alive. So perfect and so right. And in a moment his brain had switched off and he was kissing her back, his hands resting on her barely clad hips.

Then she pulled away, still looking at him, still with no discernable expression on her face. The music seemed to come to a crescendo and then he felt his grip on her slipping away as the world faded away to a blur.


Where was he?

And what the hell had happened to him?

The first expression that hit his face, as he became aware of being conscious again, was a frown. He really must stop waking up to find himself lying on the floor. It was undignified.

Exactly how had he gotten here again? He vaguely remembered waking up in the TARDIS, feeling about as bad as he did now and questioning his reasons for being asleep on the floor. Then he'd gone to find Rose, wondering if what had affected him and got her too and-

Rose.

Oh well wasn't he was a dead man.

A flashback quickly whipped through his mind as he remembered what had happened. He subconsciously reached up and touched his lips. He was definitely going to be in trouble once he'd rescued her.

The one thing in his defence was that she herself had initiated it, he was sure of it. He hadn't exactly tried to beat her off with a stick though.

Thinking carefully, he tried to remember further.

She'd been dancing, her hips swaying like a snake. She wasn't herself. It had been as if she was running on some kind of autopilot. The lights were on but nobody was home. Most likely a form of mind control, he surmised.

Then there had been that kiss. He could almost feel the way her lips had softly pressed against his. Warm, inviting…

He shook his head, still feeling as though everything was slightly blurred. Taking a few deep breaths seemed to help somewhat but not enough. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted a water trough less than a foot away. Perfect.

He shifted over there and dunked his head in a good five times, enough so he could think of the words 'Rose' and 'lips' in the same sentence without feeling overly keen on them. Well, no more than his usual well kept in check affection for her.

Unfortunately his now clear mind left him open to another feeling, just as unwelcome. Guilt.

But no, it wasn't his fault, that he was sure. He had wanted to stop her. He'd tried but the connection between his brain and body had seemed to have gone into meltdown. He'd never take advantage of her like that and he hoped she knew that too. There was something wrong, something about that tavern…

Speaking of which, he suddenly realised that he certainly wasn't there anymore. He was sitting in some back alley in the dead of night with nothing but a few curious goats looking at him. Apparently someone had dumped him here after he'd passed out.

Nice.

Standing up and brushing himself down, a determined look came across his face. He may have been a bit of a tosser for not being able to stop her, but not nearly so much as the bloke who had taken her in the first place. This Hasani.

How dare he take Rose, his companion, and think he could just do that to her? Degrade her like that. He'd show him what happened when you took something a Time Lord cared about.

There was the anger. Much better than the guilt and far more constructive.

A plan immediately began to construct itself in his resolute mind. First thing, he had to find out where he was. Second he needed to get back to the TARDIS and work out what had got into his system to hypnotise him like that and make him pass out. Then he'd be ready for it the next time. Third, he needed to rescue Rose and fourth, he needed to give this Hasani a bloody good kicking. Or maybe he'd let Rose do it. She would most likely have a few frustrations to take out once she realised what had been going on. He just hoped he could convince her that he himself had been trying to stop her, and remind her that she had technically come on to him.

He decided the best way to get back to the TARDIS was to use the tracking device to track Rose back to the tavern, and then follow his familiar root back from there. Reaching for it, he found the expected pocket empty so he tried another. And another. And another. Until he had tried every pocket twice and could only think of one explanation.

He'd been robbed.

Bugger.