Cabar brewed a strong batch of tea. When it was ready the Doctor took a small cup of it to Turlough. He had grown even paler, and his breathing was increasingly labored; the invaders, it seemed, had not been successful in their attempts to regulate his body's functioning. Still, the Doctor knew that they would continue to try, and he worried that they would cause further damage with their efforts.

The Doctor crouched beside Turlough and lifted the cup to his mouth. "Just a sip," he encouraged.

Turlough's nose wrinkled as he sniffed the brew. Suddenly his arms flew up, knocking the cup from the Doctor's hand and sending the Time Lord tumbling back onto the floor. The young man clambered to his feet, eyes darting from side to side. He turned and lumbered toward the door.

Cabar hurried to catch Turlough's arm as the Doctor picked himself up. Despite his weakened condition, Turlough twisted and kicked at the shaman, nearly freeing himself before the Doctor took his other arm firmly.

"I think," said the Time Lord, "that we know the answer to our question about the tea."

"So give it to him!" Tegan urged.

"Not here," the Doctor said. With a glance at Cabar, he added, "Help me with him."

Together the two men began to maneuver Turlough through the door. He was struggling fiercely, his breaths coming in great, halting gasps. For a moment the Doctor stopped and took Turlough's face in his hand.

"We're trying to help you!" he said.

Turlough shook his head. "No… trying to… kill us." With a final burst of energy, he swung his arms out, landing powerful blows on both the Doctor and Cabar. The men stumbled back as Turlough lunged for the doorway.

As the Doctor blinked to clear his vision, he saw Tegan looming above him. She held a jug in her hand.

"Sorry," she muttered, "but you'll thank me later—well, maybe you won't, but this is for your own good." As her words tumbled out, she swung the jug. It hit Turlough on the back of the head, and he fell to his knees then slid down to the ground.

Her efforts had drained her of the small bit of energy that had returned, and she leaned gratefully into the Doctor when he reached for her. Cabar bent to examine Turlough.

"He's still alive," the shaman reported.

"I should hope so," Tegan huffed. "I was only trying to stop him. I didn't even hit him that hard."

The Doctor waggled a finger at her in gentle remonstration. "You could have hurt him badly."

"He tried to hurt you, and if he'd managed to get out of here who knows what trouble he would have got into."

"Well, what's done is done," the Doctor said. He began leading Tegan back to the mat, but she resisted.

"I'm going with you," she said.

"You most certainly are not!" he replied. "You need to stay here and rest—"

"I'll be fine. Besides, you may need my help again."

He knew it was no use trying to dissuade her. With a brief shake of his head he took Turlough's shoulders as Cabar lifted his feet. They carried him out the door.

The fire glowed in the distance, beautiful yet strangely disarming in the darkness. Cabar and the Doctor carried Turlough through the jungle. Tegan held a lantern as she walked just in front of them. She was glad that they could not move quickly; her legs felt disturbingly wobbly. Still, she was determined to be of assistance. In her other hand she held a cup of tea. She had to walk carefully to keep it from spilling.

Cabar directed her steps, telling her to go to the right or left. She could not really ascertain in which direction they were moving, and when she heard the sound of running water she was surprised to see that they were near the stream.

"Over there," the Doctor said, tilting his head toward the small rock formation.

Tegan set the lantern in the grass as the men lowered Turlough so that his back rested against the rocks. He was coming around, still groggy but gradually growing more alert.

The Australian watched with interest as the Doctor pulled a small penknife from his pocket then took Turlough's hand. Exposing the palm, he swiftly made a fresh cut over the healing scrape.

"Sorry," he murmured when the young man made a small grunt of pain. He positioned Turlough's hand carefully on one of the rocks.

"Hold it there," he instructed Cabar. "Don't allow him to move it."

Cabar nodded.

"Tegan, the tea, please," the Doctor requested. "You may need to hold his head."

She passed him the cup and then pressed her hands against Turlough's temples as the Doctor lifted the tea to his lips. The Time Lord tilted up the cup, managing to splash a good helping into Turlough's mouth before he began to struggle again.

The Doctor clapped his hand over Turlough's lips. "Swallow it," he instructed. "Turlough, listen to me. You have to swallow it."

Turlough's eyes seemed to bulge out, and for an instant he ceased moving. With an audible gulp, he swallowed the tea then opened his mouth to gasp for breath.

"It's going to be all right," the Doctor said gently. Tegan wasn't sure if he was addressing Turlough or the beings residing within him.

She moved her hand down to give his shoulder a squeeze then knelt beside the Doctor. She watched Turlough anxiously. He began to squirm, legs and arms moving slowly then suddenly stiffening. He gasped out, "No!"

"You can't remain in him any longer," the Doctor said firmly. "The toxin won't leave his system for at least six hours, and you can't survive it that long. We're back at the rock, at your home. You have no choice but to return there."

Turlough's head moved from side to side as his eyes rolled back. "No, no, no," he stammered, then his head snapped up and his eyes shot open to stare straight ahead.

"Please don't hurt him any more," Tegan said.

Turlough's arm began to twitch then jerk, but Cabar held his hand in place firmly. When the Trion youth's breaths began to come in strenuous, labored gasps Tegan reached for the Doctor's shoulder.

"Can't you do something to help him?" she asked anxiously.

He shook his head. "Hang on, Turlough," he encouraged. "Listen to my voice. Try to hear me, to focus on me now. Stay calm, and don't worry. As soon as they've gone your body will be able to regain its normal function, but it's going to take a little time. They've got a long journey ahead of them. Just hang on for a little while longer."

"How long?" whispered Tegan.

"They have to travel from his brain to his hand. It depends upon which route they take. If they come down the carotid to the axillary, then join up with the brachial artery—"

"Cripes, Doctor, you make it sound like a road map!"

He shrugged. "For them it is."

His gaze moved to Turlough's neck. He watched the slight pulsing with interest. Perhaps they were passing through at this very moment…

"Doctor?" Tegan's voice broke his concentration.

He opened his eyes and responded somewhat wearily, "Yes Tegan?"

She was pointing at Turlough's face. "Something's happening—"

Turlough's expression had changed. His muscles had grown slack, his jaw drooping and his eyelids dropping down. His hand was jerking beneath Cabar's pressure, but then he stilled. His head fell forward.

"Turlough?" The Doctor pressed his fingers against his companion's neck. "I told you to hang on! You have to stay with us!"

"What's going on?" Tegan asked in alarm.

"His heart has stopped."

"They've killed him?"

"No—I don't know." The Doctor pulled Turlough down to the ground, uncaring now that his hand had slipped out from beneath Cabar's. He pressed his own hands over the young man's heart, waiting, hoping to feel a beat.

"Come on, Turlough," he entreated, "you have to stay with us."

Tegan had reached out to take his wrist. "There's no pulse," she said softly, her voice quavering.

Shaking his head, the Doctor lifted his hands and clenched one into a fist. He brought it down hard in the center of Turlough's chest.

"Stop it!" Tegan cried. "You're going to hurt him!"

"I'm trying to start his heart," the Time Lord replied sharply.

"That's not how to do it! Don't you know CPR—"

"That's not what he needs," the Doctor bit back. "This enhances cardiac activity and should return his heart to normal sinus rhythm—" He had flattened his palm over Turlough's chest. He frowned and lifted his arm again, delivering another sharp blow.

Tegan felt Turlough's body reverberate against her. She blinked back tears, holding onto his wrist even more firmly, frightened by the stillness, the lack of the steady pulse beat that had always been just there beneath the surface. She saw the Doctor raise his arm again.

"Wait!" she cried. "I think I feel something."

The Doctor's hand pressed against Turlough's chest. His frown deepened, then his expression broke into a smile. "Indeed you do."

Tegan watched Turlough's chest rise and fall once, then again. By his fifth inhalation, she was grinning. She ruffled his hair with her hand. "I knew you could do it," she told him.

She watched his face, noticing that his eyelids were moving. After a minute or so Turlough lifted his hand and opened his eyes. He blinked up at the three anxious faces that looked down on him.

"What's the matter?" he asked.

The Doctor responded with a question of his own. "How are you feeling?"

Turlough began to sit up, assisted by the Time Lord's arm around his shoulders. "I'm… uh…" He frowned, rubbing a hand over his chest. "I feel like someone kicked me."

Tegan shot the Doctor a reprimanding look, but he ignored her. "Aside from the soreness, are you having any difficulty breathing?"

Turlough shook his head and opened his mouth to respond, but he paused to squint at his companions. Slowly he lifted his hands, staring at them as they moved up to touch his face. "Twenty fingers," he muttered. His eyes moved to Tegan. "And two of you. As if one weren't bad enough…"

The air hostess scowled at the slur, but before she could respond Cabar said, "It's the tea. He's going to start dreaming soon."

"Dreaming?" Tegan repeated. "More like—rabbits, he's tripping!"

Turlough had tilted his head back to stare up at the sky. He was grinning broadly and pointing. "I can see it," he said happily, "it's Trion. It's right there, next to the orange bunnies driving the roadsters. But how can that be? They're wearing celery in their lapels!" He began to laugh.

Tegan rolled her eyes then touched Cabar's hand. "How long is this going to last?"

"The tea was very strong. He's going to dream for many hours."

She sighed. "It's going to be a long night."

The setting sun cast a rosy glow over the village. A faint smoky smell still hung in the air, but the fire had been fully extinguished just after dawn. The villagers had spent the day cleaning up the debris then had settled down for a few hours of much-needed rest. The village was quiet now.

The night had not been easy for the Doctor and his companions, either. Turlough's hallucinations had shifted from whimsical to terrifying by turns, with images of flames and battles filling his mind as often as vibrant colors and fantastic figures seemed to swirl before his unseeing eyes.

They had managed to return to Cabar's hut before the most intense visions overtook the Trion refugee. Still, at times they had needed to restrain him gently or assuage his fears with calming words and soothing touches. Surprisingly Tegan had found that her hands upon his face or shoulders had the most quieting effect on him. She had offered what comfort she could, but as dawn approached her energy waned; her own recent ordeal had affected her more than she wanted to admit.

By the time Turlough began to settle down, the effects of the tea lessening, Tegan had been close to collapse. Leaving Turlough in Cabar's capable hands, the Doctor had taken her to Mita's hut, where he had half-carried her the last few meters to the bed. He had checked on her several times throughout the day and found her soundly asleep, breathing steadily though still a bit pale. He would be certain that she had a good meal as soon as she awoke, but for the moment sleep was the best medicine he could offer.

Now he surveyed the village for a few minutes before returning to Cabar's hut. It was a beautiful place, really, and he knew that Tegan and Turlough could live comfortably here for some time—if it came to that. But he hoped that Turlough would be able to recall where he had sent the TARDIS. The young man had just begun stirring when the Time Lord left the hut; perhaps he had awakened fully by now. The shaman was outside tending his herb garden and nodded for the Doctor to go in.

The Doctor entered to find Turlough sitting at the small table sipping something from a cup. His hair was mussed, and he had dark circles beneath his eyes, but he seemed to be in full control of his body.

"How are you feeling?" the Doctor asked as he moved toward his friend.

Turlough looked up. "Like I've been drawn and quartered." He ran a hand through his hair then winced, lowering his hand to study the blisters on his right palm and the bandage wrapped around his left. "What the hell happened to me?"

The Doctor sat down next to him. "You don't remember?"

Turlough shook his head. "No, but I feel like I was in a fight for my life. My hands are raw, my head's pounding, and I think I cracked a couple of ribs." He rubbed his fingers over his chest. His tie had been removed many hours ago, and the top few shirt buttons were undone still.

The Doctor leaned forward and moved aside the fabric. A purplish bruise was forming in the center of Turlough's chest. The Time Lord ran his fingertips delicately over the area, pressing as lightly as possible. Still, Turlough sucked in a sharp breath.

"Sorry," the Doctor said curtly. "There's nothing broken, but you're going to have a rather nasty bruise, I'm afraid."

"Yeah?" He looked down at the mark. "But how did I get it?"

"I'll see if Cabar has something for the pain. And keep drinking that juice. You're dehydrated; that's what's causing your headache."

The Doctor began to stand, but Turlough grasped his forearm. "Wait. Tell me what happened."

With a sigh, the Time Lord settled back into his chair. "All right, but first I want you to tell me something."

"What?" the Trion youth asked tiredly.

"Where did you send the TARDIS?"

"Me? I—" Turlough's forehead creased, and he rubbed at his temples. "Oh God, I set the coordinates."

"Yes, you did, but not of your own volition."

"No, you're wrong. I did choose where to send it."

"But you were being controlled by something else—"

Turlough nodded slowly as understanding dawned on him. "I was. I didn't want to, but I had to set the coordinates, and then I had to set the fire—" He stopped. "How long ago was that?"

"Two days."

Turlough swallowed hard. "Did I do anything else?"

"What do you remember?"

"Walking to the stream, going out into the jungle to find—I'm not sure what I was supposed to find." He lifted his hands again. "How did I do this?"

"You chopped down a great quantity of brush."

"When?"

"Last night."

"Another fire? I set an even bigger one?" His eyes had widened in alarm.

"It's out now. And no one was seriously hurt."

"But they could have been."

The Doctor leaned forward again to rest his hand on Turlough's arm. "But they weren't. None of this was your fault."

"I still don't understand what happened."

"I'll explain everything, but right now I need to know where the TARDIS is."

Turlough shook his head. "I remember going to the secondary console room—less chance of Tegan spotting me—and my hands were on the keys, I was punching in…" He closed his eyes and rubbed at his forehead. "I think…" Suddenly he looked up. "You need to go back where you left it."

"It's not there. I already checked the entire area."

"Check again."

The Time Lord shook his head. "Turlough, it's no use—"

"Please, Doctor, just have another look."

"All right."

The Doctor left the hut and walked briskly to the landing site. He knew that he was just placating Turlough, but after all the young man had been through, it was the least he could do. As he emerged from the brush, he could not suppress a small gasp. The TARDIS stood precisely where it had materialized three days before. He stood staring for nearly a minute then walked slowly toward the door.

"Glad you checked now?"

He turned back to see Turlough standing at the edge of the clearing, winded but pleased.

"How did you know it would be here?"

Turlough smiled. "I remember now. I knew that they were going to send it away—I couldn't stop them from doing that. They made me type in coordinates, but they didn't understand how it all worked. So I sent the TARDIS a few days into the future. I figured that way it would return us—Tegan and me, I mean—right back here."

The Doctor was grinning. "Good thinking, Turlough."

"I thought we'd still be inside, though, so that when we landed they'd think I'd done as they wanted. I didn't anticipate rushing out to help Tegan and stranding us here."

"No, you couldn't have known that would happen. You did the best you could under the circumstances."

The young man shrugged. "I didn't really know what else to do—hell, I'm not even sure I really knew what I was doing. At least I had some control over my actions then."

The Doctor walked back to Turlough. "It really wasn't your fault, you know."

"Wasn't it?"

"It could have been any one of us. You were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"I seem to have a knack for that."

With a brief, sympathetic nod, the Doctor clapped a hand lightly to Turlough's back. "Come on. Let's tell Tegan the good news."