A/N: Oh my, ten reviews for that last chapter! You make my life easy, you know that? Special thanks to MontyPythonFan, bookEnd, past&pending for following and supplying lovely reviews and anuy for those kind words. And thank you to the readers for having patience between my updates. I know they're getting further and further apart, but that's only because I'm trying to study for my exams ;)

As a last note, there are references in this chapter to Steve Lyons' Doctor Who Book, written for the BBC, called ' The Stealers of Dreams'. It's a wonderful book, and though I started writing this before I had read it, it certainly came in somewhat useful. So, those references - not my story:D

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Chapter VIII - Trapped

The Doctor was thinking faster than he had ever thought in his life. Right, inches and seconds from a nasty, spiky death and all I've got to help me out is this here brain of mine. His eyes took in his surroundings as his head darted left right, up and down. The platform was inching closer and closer towards him, seemingly unconnected with anything. At least the spikes from the walls wouldn't move until he started climbing.

His feet began to slip on the walls as the Doctor panted to keep his balance. Oh, it was all right if he were just passing momentarily - but to hang suspended in mid air in a narrow, slippery shaft was proving to be getting more and more difficult every second.

Right, he thought again, keeping his hands steady on the walls. They wouldn't have stuck me here just to kill me because they could have done that anyway. So what's the link? What am I missing? Come on, you idiot, think

He glanced down. The floor was getting dangerously close, being only a few metres away from the camera now. But it wasn't the closeness he was noticing. The pattern of spikes glaring up at him... there was a gap. As if someone had spread the metallic barbs towards the edge of the platform. It was a big space - big enough to stand in.

"Now, why didn't I see that before?" the Doctor asked aloud. There was no criticism in his voice: there was no way the spikes were in that arrangement beforehand. It just wasn't possible.

There wasn't a second to lose. Choosing a spiky platform over spiky walls, the Doctor held his breath and dropped carefully down onto the smooth, floor. It was a difficult jump, as he had to position himself perfectly. He let his hands loose quickly, avoiding more injuries to his limbs, and landed with a soft 'thud' on the platform.

He straightened up and patted off his coat. He frowned and looked around. There were no spikes. Nothing. He scaled the walls with his eyes and noticed - with more than a little dismay - that there were no spikes on the walls, either. And he was still in exactly the same place as he had been before he started climbing. There was a camera, looking at him mechanically. And hundreds of yards up, there was the glass ceiling. Everything was as if he hadn't have started climbing in the first place.

He turned his head to and fro, not quite being able to believe it. But suddenly, he caught on. The deep frown that had been creasing his forehead with worry suddenly completely disappeared. Instead, a wide, ecstatic smile took its place.

"It's an illusion!" he cried with joyful realisation. He waved his hand where the spikes would have been. "All of it! That age-old trick of the mind!"

As if suddenly realising that he was talking to himself, the Doctor stopped talking. But he didn't - couldn't - stop smiling. He glanced to his finger, the one he had cut on the spearhead. The blood had dried and the pain had gone, but the cut was still there.

"Hrm," he frowned again. But only for a second. He rubbed the tip of the cut with his thumb briefly and felt pain shoot through his finger. But if it was an illusion, how could the cut be real? Illusions couldn't kill. Or maybe they could. Maybe whatever was going on on this planet had manipulated something in his brain, so that the illusions were real for him. That his body felt the effects of his mind's trap.

Still, there was time to think about that later. It had been fun to take the time and learn a bit about this planet, but now it was getting a little repetitive and his mind was bored. So, escape. He was in a shaft full of imaginary spikes with no way out, except upwards - which had thus far failed - and a doorway that he couldn't find. Brilliant, he loved a challenge.

The Doctor closed his eyes. If it was all a trick of the mind and if could just find the trigger, then maybe he could manipulate this for his own good. And right now, he wanted the door open. The Doctor relaxed and saw himself in his mind's eyes. He saw the shaft and the camera and the narrow walls. He saw himself grin as part of the fourth wall of the shaft slid open into a corridor.

He opened his eyes as light fell across his vision.

"Well, that was easy," he shrugged with a grin, before stepping out in to the corridor. Just a matter of manipulating his mind and the illusions to his liking. Fantastic.

"What are you doing out of your cell?" barked a harsh, male voice from the Doctor's right. He turned to look down the corridor to where the voice had come from. What seemed to be a giant bat with legs stood a couple of metres away from him. It stood to the full height of the corridor, its brown wings folded carefully behind it, like a strange shield. The width of the wings spread the entire corridor. His claw-like hands were wrapped around the handle of a big, silver gun. It was of a different shape to the guns the Doctor had seen before, looking more like a silver, gleaming kettle on its side than a gun. It was chunky and heavy, and the bat looked ready to fire it.

"My cell?" the Doctor asked, feigning amusement in his voice. He threw in a confused frown just for effect.

"Yeah," the bat grunted shifting its position needlessly. "Your cell. Get back in there."

"I'm afraid there must be some mistake. I'm not a prisoner here."

"Nice try," the bat replied, taking a step forwards.

"No, honestly," the Doctor said hastily. He raised his hands in the air. "Look, see? I don't look like a prisoner now, do I? I have my verification here..."

"Don't you move a muscle!" the bat shouted, his voice hoarse and unpleasant. The Doctor had put his hand to his pocket for the psychic paper. The bat stepped towards him menacingly, and, instinctively, the Doctor stepped backwards. The bat's claws flexed on the trigger of the gun threateningly.

"I'm warning you," he growled. "I'll kill you if I have to. Blood or no."

The Doctor sighed, a patronising, exasperated sigh.

"Oh, all right then," he conceded. "I admit. I'm a prisoner trying to escape. An escapee. You got me."

The bat grunted with confusion. Man this guy's stupid, he thought.

"So..." the Doctor said, his hands above his head.

"So what?"

"Aren't you gonna come get me, then? Gotta make sure I go back in the right cell, after all. Wouldn't want to make the mistake of shoving me just anywhere, would you?"

"Right," the bat laughed. He began to walk towards the Doctor, the gun lowering to his side.

Come on, you stupid ball of fur, the Doctor coaxed inwardly, shifting his feet slightly as the bat approached. Just a little further.

The bat never even saw it coming. He reached out to take the Doctor by the arm, but was surprised when the nimble Doctor put a hand out, grabbed his wrist and twisted. There wasn't enough time to reach for the gun, barely enough time to think, as he was thrown sideways, crammed in to the open cell. His head knocked against the cold, hard wall and he was startled for a second or two. But it was long enough.

"I'll take that," the Doctor said, snatching the gun away from the bat's claws. He caught a glimpse of a credit card device fastened to a belt around his lower chest. "Oh, and that could come in handy, too," he said brightly as he reached across and picked it up. Then he straightened up, hooked the gun comfortably on his arm, stuck the credit card in the slot, closed the door and laughed. His clever, quick mind was giving him a thousand praises.

"Right then," he said calmly, looking fondly from the gun on his arm to the card in his hand. "Let's see what this new body can do!"

And without so much as a glance back, he set off down the corridor in a jog, his shoes tapping smartly on the floor.

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The corridors themselves were surprisingly empty. The Doctor came across one or two wardens, who eyed him suspiciously at first, but soon believed his story: he had just transferred here, was learning the ropes and had gotten a bit lost. The gun and the credit card, combined with the psychic paper pretty much granted him an access to all areas. It was wonderful fun.

He had even made friends with one, a worm-ant creature from before, who had called himself Antsk.

"I didn't know you little fellas could talk," the Doctor had marvelled. Antsk had laughed.

"We are the superior race in this hierarchy. Of course we can talk."

"Oh," the Doctor had replied, a little worriedly - had he blown his cover? "Of course."

"But don't worry, we barely care to talk to any of the lower beings. You weren't to know." Antsk had explained. Then, he had given a little sideways wink and added, "Most of them aren't worth it anyway."

The Doctor had relaxed at this point. He was now walking through endless, endless corridors, with Antsk by his side, explaining what all the different branches at the forks led to and how it was easiest to work one's way around.

"In there's our Mind Control Unit," Antsk explained as he scuttled past an ominous black door. "MCU for short. You'll have learned all about that in training, of course."

"Right," the Doctor nodded. "And I suppose that's how you get the prisoners to act like workers?"

Antsk stopped his scuttling and looked up to the Doctor, a confused expression on his face.

"What are you talking about?" he asked. But his voice held only curiosity, nothing more.

"I don't know," the Doctor grinned honestly. "Sometimes I get so caught up in the thought that I forget what I've been taught!"

"Right," Antsk said thoughtfully, not sounding terribly convinced. But then his mouth relaxed into a smile; though, it was the sort of smile a dog might give - bared teeth, and not that pleasant to look at. Nothing like a smile, really.

"So, what should I call you? You seem pretty enthusiastic for a trainee," he said instead.

"I'm the Doctor."

"Doctor, eh? That's a little cryptic."

"Yes, well, I help many things," he grinned. "Anything that needs looking to, I assure you, I'm there."

Antsk swore there was something almost threatening in the way he had said it; but he let it pass, and put it down to the excitable nature of the young man.

"I think I can find my way around from here," the Doctor said suddenly. He had stopped suddenly at a door. It was the only door he had seen so far which had had a little glass slab in it, something big enough to look through. His body was tense and his eyes surveyed the room with worry.

Antsk looked up to him with curiosity.

"You won't find anything of interest in there," he said slowly. "Only the most troublesome of prisoners get sent in there. You don't need to worry about that."

"Oh, but I do," the Doctor replied quietly, his voice soft but sombre. His face was dark. He looked down to the little ant-worm beside him on the floor. "What goes on in there?" he questioned.

"Nothing much of interest," shrugged the ant-worm. "Come on, I still have to show you the Illusionary Chamber."

"I've already seen it," the Doctor replied darkly, shaking his head. He peered in through the glass again, squinting - it was dark, and he couldn't see much. But then he shrugged, put on a face of happiness and spoke easily. "If you don't mind, I think I can find my way from here. There's just one or two things I want to check up on."

"If you insist," sighed Antsk. "Well, you know where to find me should you need any help."

"Yeah, um, where's that again?"

"The entrance hall," Antsk frowned. "Your training really wasn't all that accurate, was it Doctor?"

"You got me," laughed the Doctor. "I'm still learning."

"Indeed. Well, see you later."

The ant-worm scuttled off contentedly down the corridor. The Doctor watched him go, his grip tightening on the gun. Then, as soon as he made sure the coast was clear, he dug the white card out from his pocket and stuck it in the slot by the door. Whoever or whatever was in there, something told him that that was where he should be headed next.

The keypad device beeped furiously at him, and he frowned. Must have been some sort of error. He looked at the word flashing on the small screen at him. RESTRICTED. He paused for a moment, wondering what in the world English was doing written on a keypad on an alien planet. The TARDIS was all very well for translating languages, but it didn't apply to written things as well. Or it shouldn't. It was something to consider later. For now, he had to wonder about a way into the room.

The keypad spat the card back out, and the Doctor collected it gratefully. Then he glanced at the gun in his hand and looked at the settings. Then he looked at the door. It was better than nothing. He just hoped that his instincts were right when they told him that what lay behind this door was a great asset rather than a great threat.

Carefully, he stood back in the corridor and slunk behind the gun, lining it up to the keypad. His hands were shaking, and as he peered down what he assumed was the barrel, it was difficult to get a target. His fingers tightened on a thick trigger at the button. He was waiting for the right opportunity to pull it. Give me a reason, he found himself thinking.

After just a moment or two, the Doctor suddenly laughed. He straightened up and shook his head with amusement. Shrugging, he gave up on the 'subtle' approach, pointed the gun at around the right place on the well and yanked down hard on the trigger.

The keypad melted and incinerated as a ball of molten fire rocketed out of the gun. The keypad beeped in protest, but then it suddenly faded, and the door clicked unlocked.

His cry of joy rang out down the empty corridor. The Doctor repositioned the gun on his arm, put his hand up to the door and pushed it open. It slid forwards and sideways at the same time, opening out in to a dark, cheerless room. The walls were made of dark, dank stone. There was nothing. It was quite large, perhaps six foot by ten. But it was empty. Except for a bed in the right hand corner.

The Doctor stepped in.

"Hello?" he called, being careful to keep the gun ready. Just in case. A figure stirred on the bed and he could see that something was watching him, perhaps a little bleary-eyed. He hoped he hadn't woken it.

"It's all right," he said calmly, his voice soft. He took a tentative step forward. "I won't hurt you. I'm the Doctor; I'm here to help - "

The rest of his speech was caught in his throat, as the next thing he knew, the tired, beaten body of Rose had screamed in joy, jumped up and flung her arms around his neck, practically breaking every bone in his body in the process. He laughed, and wrapped his arms around the quivering, human. He picked her up, swung her around once, and set her on the floor again.

She pulled back, her arms around his neck, linked at her wrists behind his head.

"Took your time, didn't you?" she laughed, staring into his eyes. He grinned at her.

"Wanted to see how you'd cope without me," he replied with a wink. Thank God his instincts had been right - they were obviously more accurate than his previous incarnation.

Rose dropped her hands from his neck as he took her by the waist and looked at her, frowning. Her hair was dishevelled, what little make-up she had on was smudged and she was dressed in restricting, grey overalls.

"What," he exclaimed, trying to suppress a laugh, "are you wearing?"

Rose looked down at her attire, then looked up at the Doctor in mock offence. "You don't like it? Picked it out 'specially."

He snorted with laughter, then scooped her into his chest once more.

"I'm sorry," the Doctor said into her hair, feeling her squeeze back the mutual hug. "I'm sorry I left you. I'm sorry we even came here. It's all a bit hectic."

"You can say that again," Rose laughed, drawing back. They looked at each other for a moment or two, before Rose sighed and looked at the gun in his hand. "That how you fight your way to me?"

The Doctor glanced at the gun and gave Rose a sly grin.

"Well, you know me," he replied, bringing it up and pretending to fire at imaginary monsters. "Gotta show off a bit, haven't I? No point otherwise. Now, what d'you say about getting out of here? Got any plans in that messed up head of yours?"

"Oi!" she cried, hitting him on the arm. "My plans are better than yours."

"Is that right?" the Doctor asked, a smile in every syllable.

"Yeah, that's right," Rose confirmed with a grin.

But the Doctor suddenly looked very serious. He looked at her face and recognised that she had been crying. "You're all right, aren't you?" he asked, worry plain in his voice. "They didn't hurt you?"

"I'm not sure," Rose shrugged. She remembered waking up from her dream in tears. She remembered feeling absolutely, extremely exhausted when she had tried to stand; all she had been able to do was collapse back on the bed and fall asleep again. How she had managed to get from the dirty corridor and her orange guide's room to here was still a mystery to her. But she felt fine. Considering.

She caught the Doctor's eye.

"Know what I want?" she asked.

"What's that?"

Rose grinned. "A shower."

The Doctor felt a laugh rise up from his stomach and echo out of his mouth. "All right," he agreed. "You help me get us out of here, and I promise you a shower."

"With chips."

"Oh, upping the stakes are we?" he winked. He found Rose's hand with his own and linked their fingers together. "C'mon then," the Doctor laughed. "Best find our friend, hadn't we? Can't exactly leave him in a place like this. Tempting though it is."

A pang of guilt echoed in Rose's heart. The Doctor. Her Doctor. She hadn't forgotten about him, exactly, but the man in front of her was so obviously the Doctor as well... it was just a little much to take in. But what of her dream? Was it real? She had a horrible feeling that it might have been. Probably best to bring it up.

"Doctor," she said suddenly as he pulled her towards the door of the room and out into the corridor.

"What is it?"

"I dreamed something that... explains what's going on. Sort of."

They were standing in the corridor now, and it was then that Rose noticed the hole in the wall where the keypad used to be. She glanced at the gun and realised what the Doctor had done to open the door. She supposed it wouldn't be too much to call this guy a little impulsive.

"What did you dream?" he asked, frowning as he looked at the wires sticking out from the charred and melted metal. "It probably was just a dream... either that or your mind's being messed with, like mine."

"How d'you mean?"

"This place runs on creating illusions," the Doctor said simply, frowning as he pulled at a wire from the wall. He wasn't sure what he was trying to do. Perhaps he should give up. Shrugging with a sigh, he relaxed his shoulders and looked Rose dead in the eye. Time for an explanation, he supposed. "You remember that planet we visited in my last incarnation? The one where people weren't allowed to imagine things, because it would become real. 'Fantasy crazy' they called it - you remember?"

"Yeah," Rose nodded. She remembered all too well. That was when she had seen zombies from a kid's comic book come to life around her. That was when she had imagined the Doctor by her side, talking to her, even though he hadn't been there at all. She remembered the fight with Captain Jack, keeping the entire police force (and then some) away from the Doctor whilst he could give his speech and save the planet. That had been a strange day. "Wasn't that micro organisms, or something?" she continued.

"Very good, Rose," the Doctor grinned. "Nice to know you remember at least some of our adventures in that head of yours."

"Yeah, well, what's it have to do with this place?"

"Not much," he admitted. "Except that it's a similar concept, I think. Illusions are created to trap us and keep us prisoner. We don't have control over them, as such, but they're linked to our minds in a way that plays on our fears. Supposedly."

"Oh," Rose replied bitterly. She leaned against heavily against the wall and let out a sigh. "So, does that mean what I dreamed wasn't real?"

"More likely than not, it was just this place playing tricks on you; why, what did you dream?"

Rose's face flushed, and she looked down to the floor. She couldn't look the Doctor in the eye, not after what she had felt in her dream. It had seemed so real - it had made so much sense.

"Doesn't matter," she said, almost bitterly, as she shook her head.

The Doctor stepped in front of her, his hands on her upper arms, his eyes searching hers intensely.

"Yes it does," he said softly, his face hard. "All I have is a theory. You have an explanation. It may only have been a dream, but sometimes dreams are more real than reality."

"You have no idea," Rose laughed. In a way, that was what was going on, wasn't it? Her Doctor, being with them. It was all just a dream.

"So," the Doctor said, letting his arms fall away from Rose's shoulders and straightening up. "What was it about? You know I'm not going to let you get away with not telling me."

"It was like… He said that he - the other Doctor - that he was here because of me. Because of what I'd done with the time vortex. That the vortex sort of… leaked… and out came this other Doctor, made from me and made from him, too. That we're connected because of what you - he - did to get the vortex out of me. And now…"

She trailed off, looking to the floor again. The Doctor sniffed in thought.

"Right," the Doctor said thoughtfully, his brain working up again. "So, that's it, then, isn't it? Something inside you knew that when my old incarnation took the vortex from you that that would be it. Bye-bye, no more Ninth Doctor. You couldn't deal with that, so you created another one. You and the TARDIS, that is. Its Heart. Amazing."

Rose looked at this Doctor wide-eyed. He certainly seemed on the ball today.

"I'm not sure I really understand it all, Doctor," she sighed honestly. "It was a dream. How could I have known all that from a dream?"

"Who knows?" the Doctor shrugged in return, leaning on the wall beside her. "Makes sense, though, doesn't it? You cared too much about the old me to let me go. But rather than hold on to a memory, you made a physical manifestation of it instead." He turned his head to look at her; his face was suddenly sincere. "Thank you, Rose."

"What for?"

"For loving me that much," he replied simply. Without giving Rose the time to reply, the Doctor hoisted himself from the wall and grabbed her hand. "Come on, then. Enough with this talking shenanigan; time to save the planet."

She looked at him for a moment, somewhat baffled. Then she shrugged and let herself be pulled along the corridor like a dog on a lead.

"What happens when we meet someone?" she asked as they rounded a corner into another empty corridor.

"Nothing," he shrugged. "If they have a gun, we run. If they don't, well… we run anyway."

"Didn't know you were the type to run away, Doctor," Rose said mischievously, a gleam in her bright eyes. He looked at her as they walked and grinned.

"Who said anything about running away? I'll have you know, it hurts when someone runs into you."

"I'll bet," Rose laughed.

They walked on, side by side, in comfortable silence for a while. The Doctor was actually surprised at how empty these corridors were - and also at how the organisation was so poor. How easy had it been for him - and Rose - to break out of their cells to freedom? On a scale of one to ten, this was not rating very high on the challenging scale. It was like some huge logic puzzle that needed solving rather than an alien planet that was being run by… well, he didn't know what by. But something was nagging at his brain, something distant and in the back. He couldn't think of what it was, but he knew that there was something very strange going on.

It wasn't until the third turning of dreary looking corridors that Rose knocked her shoulder lightly against the Doctor to gain his attention.

"You know where we're going, right?"

Stupid question. This was the Doctor; of course he didn't.

"Well, I…" he faltered. She laughed, and the grip on his hand tightened.

"You're so full of it. I bet you don't even know where we are."

The Doctor stopped, as did Rose. He looked down at her incredulously.

"I do too know we are!"

"Yeah?" Rose asked, biting her bottom lip lightly with her teeth.

The Doctor glanced behind Rose at the wall behind her.

"Yeah. Sector 9-3-7-8-2…" he said, squinting. Rose turned to look behind her - sure enough, there was a plaque on the wall with exactly those words written on it.

"Cheat," she muttered.

"Know where we are, though, don't I?" he winked.

Suddenly, interrupting their conversation a door in the side of the corridor slid open mechanically. In the frame there stood another of the orange man - Samuel.

He glanced from Rose to the Doctor with a look of angered shock on his face, as if he couldn't quite believe that they'd managed to escape. As an instinctive reaction, he reached for the communications device attached to his blue trousers - a walkie-talkie.

"Hostile prisoners have escaped," he spoke abruptly into the receiver. "They are armed and dangerous. I need backup, sector 9-3-7-8-2 of the Disciplinary Area."

"Dangerous?" the Doctor demanded, offence clear in his voice. "I haven't done anything!"

Samuel looked at him as if he hadn't spoken. The Doctor noticed that he was shaking slightly.

"C'mon, Doctor," Rose said, tugging on his arm, but keeping his eyes on the man in the doorframe. "Gotta run."

"No, no, no, no…" he said, his eyes darting around quickly. He slid his hand away from Rose's and put it out in front of him, as if Samuel were a wild animal he was trying to calm. "Hang on a minute. This guy knows where our friend is."

"I repeat," Samuel said loudly into his receiver. "Hostile prisoners have escaped. Urgent backup needed."

The Doctor frowned for a minute as what was going on suddenly registered in his mind. He lowered the gun and took a step forward. Samuel flinched. The Doctor leant forward, his face just inches from that of the orange man. He looked down to the radio in his hand, then back up to his eyes. His face softened.

"There's no one there, is there?" he asked quietly, sympathetically.

The emotion on Samuel's face was unreadable. He just stared back at the Doctor with, the Doctor noted, more than a little courage. The Doctor straightened up and sucked in a breath.

"It's all right," he said. "We're not going to hurt you. Or anyone, for that matter. We just want some answers."

"Prisoners don't have the right to ask - "

"Yes, yes, all right," the Doctor almost snapped. "I know, 'prisoners don't have the right to ask questions'. But that's what you are, isn't it? You're just another prisoner. Not allowed to ask questions, just do what you're told so you don't get killed. You don't even know what's going on."

"I..." Samuel began, but he lost the words. How could this man, this intruder, know so much when he had only been here for a matter of hours?

"It's okay," the Doctor continued. He put his hands back, giving the gun to Rose in the meantime. He shot her a look that said, 'just be quiet for now', which she dutifully obeyed. "See?" he continued to Samuel. "I'm unarmed. I just want to talk to you."

Samuel looked from the Doctor to Rose, to the gun in Rose's hand and back to the Doctor again. Making his decision, he shrugged and folded his arms.

"Seeing as you're becoming quite a pain in my backside," he said coldly, "I may aswell answer your questions. If it'll get you to shut up."

"See? There we go!" the Doctor beamed happily. "Now that wasn't so hard, was it?"

"That depends," Samuel shrugged. "If I get caught talking to you, it's my ass on the line."

"You're just another part of the system," the Doctor pointed out. "Your 'ass' is always on the line. But, with my help, I can free you from this place."

"What makes you so sure I want to be freed?"

The Doctor cast Samuel a wary frown. "That's what everyone wants. Isn't that why wars are fought? Why people live every day of their lives?"

"Doctor," Rose reminded cautiously. He turned to look at her and recognised the look in her eye - now was not the time.

"Right," he reminded himself, before turning back to Samuel. "My friend Rose here is right. She's good at that." He beamed at her momentarily. "Anyway, I recognise you as the one to take my friend away. Where did you take him?"

"That's classified information," Samuel snapped.

"Ah, of course it is. Well, then, where might I find him?"

Samuel narrowed his eyes. He looked suspiciously at Rose. "I don't have much of a choice about this, do I?" he sighed.

"Not really," the Doctor agreed. He flashed him an award-winning smile. "Glad you're catching on so quickly."

"Come on, then," Samuel muttered, jerking his head behind him. "I'll take you as far as I can. From there, it'll be up to you. I advise you find your friend, whatever's left of him, and - "

"What do you mean 'whatever's left of him'?" Rose interrupted suddenly. She looked at him intensely. "What have you done to the Doctor?"

Samuel raised an eyebrow from Rose to the Doctor in front of him.

"I don't know what's going on, how you got out of your cells or why you seem so intent on 'helping' us," he answered shortly, "But, for reasons that I can't fathom, I want to see you succeed. Call it a hunch, but I think you're on to something."

"That'll be my inter-galactic fame spreading, I'm sure," the Doctor muttered quietly to his companion. Samuel seemed not to hear and continued.

"But there was something about your friend, 'the Doctor'. Something my superiors didn't trust."

The Doctor became suddenly very interested. "Your superiors, right; and who might they be?"

Samuel paused. When he next spoke, there was hurt in his voice. "I don't know," he replied honestly. "I just get sent my orders, and if I do well enough, they let me have enough food and a warm place to sleep."

"And if you don't?" the Doctor persisted.

Samuel hesitated, his eyes wavering. "If I don't, I get locked in one of The Rooms."

"And that's, what, exactly?" Rose asked, her grip still tight on the gun across her chest. "Doesn't sound nice."

"No," Samuel shuddered. "I'm not really sure what it does... all I know is that whenever I'm locked in there I have twenty-four hours to fend for my life."

"Against what?" the Doctor asked sternly. Samuel looked up to him and, for a fleeting moment, it was as if a small boy were asking the Doctor for help.

"I don't know," Samuel stammered. God, the poor guy, the Doctor thought; he couldn't have been more than seventeen, and he was acting as though he had been scared out of his wits. "Shadows from the dark. They follow me and watch me, pounce on me when I stop paying attention. If I let my guard down for just a second, they'll..."

Samuel took in a sharp breath and stopped himself from thinking. He shook his head and didn't continue.

"You poor thing," the Doctor said mournfully, stepping backwards and letting his eyes roam freely over the human. He caught his eye. "I am so sorry that you have to live through that."

"Live through what, Doctor?" Rose inquired from his side. The Doctor turned to her and took the gun back, fastening it to his arm.

"His worst fear," the Doctor shrugged. He looked at Samuel. "That's what this 'Room' does, doesn't it? It reinacts your worst fear. Punishment for the prisoners who don't - or won't - conform. It'll make you go insane if you let it."

Samuel just shrugged. The Doctor stepped towards him carefully, invading his personal space, though not intimidatingly.

"That's where you took our friend, isn't it?" he coaxed. "You could tell he was a trouble maker, so you had direct orders to take him there. Finish him before he could start. That about right?"

Samuel looked to the floor and nodded, like a naughty school boy who had been caught in a prank by the headmaster.

"Right," the Doctor said sternly. He looked back over his shoulder to Rose. "Guess what Rose? We have a new destination."

"The Room?"

"Right you are. Sammy here has been tremendous help. Maybe he'd like to help us out just a little more. Direct the way?"

"I don't think so," he replied shaking hsi head. "I've probably already secured my sentence by telling you too much."

"Fair play," the Doctor shrugged. He sidled over to Rose and took her hand with his, clasping it as though, if he would drop it, it would shatter. "Ready to find him?"

She nodded.

"Right, Samuel. Care to point the way?"

Samuel swallowed down a lump in his throat and stepped aside. He pointed down the corridor he had just walked down.

"Thank you!" the Doctor said happily, before practically skipping down there with the girl at his side. Samuel stood and watched them go. He didn't know what he'd just done. He had no idea who these strange three were, or what they were doing here, or why he hadn't really called for backup. His radio worked perfectly - he just hadn't pushed the button. And why? Because he trusted these three strangers more than the people he had known his entire life.

They disappeared around the corner at the end of the corridor. Samuel stood, shaking his head with a mixture of disbelief and amusement.

"Good luck," he said quietly into an empty corridor. Then, to himself, he thought, you're going to need it.