Even running at full speed, it still took the Doctor several minutes to wind his way through the building and get down to the backstage area he'd left Martha in.

The curtains were closed, and the audience was being escorted out, so it hadn't been the Daleks that had caused the screams he'd heard, but that didn't mean he could relax.

He still needed to get Martha somewhere safe and quickly began scanning the crowds of dancers for his companions' red leather jacket, or the bright blonde hair that would mark Tallulah.

He spotted the showgirl, and all but flew over to her, grasping her arm to get her attention.

"Where is she? Where's Martha?" He demanded quickly, startling the girl into stumbling over her words.

"I— I don't know. She ran off the stage!"

Before he could ask anything else, or even properly absorb Tallulah's words, he heard Martha scream. The sound made his skin crawl as the Doctor ran full tilt towards the dressing rooms, eyes searching for the young woman.

She'd not even screamed like that when kidnapped at gunpoint on New Earth, he thought to himself as he flew through the door to the prop room, shouting her name.

It took him mere moments to see that the manhole cover had been lifted, and to swing his coat off the stand he'd left it on as he prepared to follow after her. No Solomon there to stop him this time, and the Daleks were infinitely more dangerous than Pig-men.

"Wha— Where are you going?" Talulah asked from behind him. He hadn't realised she'd followed him, but he didn't spare the woman a thought, couldn't afford to now.

"They've taken her."

"Who's taken her?" The blonde asked, "Whaddyah doin'?" She continued, a whine of complaint in her voice, but the Doctor ignored her and climbed back down into the sewers.

"I said, What the hell are yah doin'?" Tallulah shouted, but he didn't have time to explain it to her, spinning around as his feet hit the bottom, trying to figure out which way they would have taken Martha.

Sonic screwdriver in hand, the light a useful torch, he prepared to enter the maze of tunnels once more when he heard heels hitting the metal rungs on the ladder, and stared up at Tallulah as she followed him down.

"No. No, no, no, no way. You're not coming," he told her, voice firm, but it seemed to have no impact on the blonde at all, and he briefly wondered what it was about blondes that meant they didn't listen to him.

Even dyed blonde...

"Tell me what's going on," Tallulah demanded, pausing her progress down the ladder as she waited for a response, and the Doctor sighed, running a frustrated hand through his hair.

"There's nothing you can do. Go back!"

"Look," she said as she started descending again, her feet finally reaching the sewer tunnel as she spoke, "whoever's taken Martha, they could have taken Laszlo, couldn't they?" She asked, already knowing the answer and the Doctor ground his teeth together. The longer she stood there, arguing, the more distance the pig-men were putting between him and Martha.

"Talulah," he growled at her darkly, and he could feel his fury building, the oncoming storm rattling against the chains in his mind, but his fury wasn't aimed at her, it was coming for the Daleks.

"You're not safe down here," he warned, his own tone bordering on dangerous.

"Then that's my problem, ain't it? Come on, which way?" she demanded before stalking off down one of the tunnels, not even waiting for an answer.

It took a moment for the Doctor to react, her words awakening yet another memory of Rose that it took him a few seconds to pull free of.

The lift doors opened onto floor 500 of Satellite Five, and they had stepped out into frost and ice.

"The walls are not made of gold. You should go back downstairs."

Rose had looked at him, an eyebrow raised and said a single word.

"Tough."

He shook the memory away and sighed. Rassilon save him from stubborn blondes, he thought as he watched Tallulah stalking down the wrong tunnel.

"This way," he called after her, a long-suffering note of resignation in his voice.

Keeping her with him was safer for the woman than letting her wander off alone against the Daleks, and he started walking, listening to the showgirl follow quickly behind.

As they moved through the tunnels, Tallulah was quiet for much longer than the Doctor had expected, but as they ducked under a half-portcullis about twenty minutes later, her control finally snapped.

"When yah say 'they've taken her', who's 'they', exactly? And who are you anyway? I never asked," she continued.

Slowly her questions were gaining momentum, and her voice became less cautious. More demanding, louder, but the Doctor was trying to tune her out, more interested in listening to their surroundings.

Like the quiet whirring sound of Dalek movement, that had his hearts shifting from his chest to settle in his throat.

"Shh!" He hissed sharply, but she misunderstood and rolled her eyes.

"Okay, okay!" Escaped her, on a nonchalant sigh, and the Doctor could feel his panic rising.

"Shh-shh-shh-shh-shh-shh!"

Tallulah fell silent, but he could see her look of confusion out of the corner of his eye while they waited, frozen in place as the Doctor listened, trying to figure out where the Dalek was coming from amongst the echoes of the tunnel.

Slowly, like it had rolled straight from his nightmares, the shadow of the Daleks' eyestalk crept along the sewer wall at the end of the tunnel, and he knew luck wasn't on his side.

It was heading straight for them, and when Tallulah opened her mouth to begin talking again, the Doctor acted instantly and entirely instinctively.

He slammed his hand over her mouth, none too gently, muffling the shriek of panic she emitted at his sudden assault. His other arm wrapped around her waist, and he half-dragged half-carried her back the way they'd come, shuffling back into a deep alcove.

It was lit with a dull light right above their heads, and the Doctor knew he was relying heavily on the Dalek's limited field of vision, and held his breath as he pinned the still struggling Tallulah in place, mentally pleading with the universe for the Dalek to simply roll on past. To not turn it's eyestalk. To not notice them.

He kept his wide eyes fixed on the approaching monster, and all he could do was hope that he and Tallulah would go undiscovered.

Far too slowly for his comfort, the Dalek moved past them, and as soon as she saw it, Tallulah stopped fighting his grasp, and he let her pull his hand away from her mouth.

Moving slowly so that the monster wouldn't hear his footsteps, the Doctor moved out from the alcove so that he could watch the Dalek turn the next corner, his spiralling thoughts escaping past his lips without conscious thought.

"No... no, no, no, no, no, no," he muttered. He would have shouted the denials if he could, but the last thing he needed was the Daleks, or the pig-men, coming to investigate a disturbance.

The anger and hate were welling up in his chest, pushing aside the sick feeling of loss and devastation at finding the parasites still existing against all the odds.

"They survived. They always survive, while I lose everything," he growled, eyes staring wildly after the metal bucket.

Gallifrey, the Time Lords, Rose... All of it gone, because of the Daleks and he could feel the fury filling him, making his hands tremble, and he knew that his eyes would be full and swirling with the Oncoming Storm, as wisps of it finally escaped his control.

"That metal thing?" Tallulah asked warily, "What was it?"

He told her. Too angry and cold now, to care if he scared her.

"It's a Dalek. And it's not just metal, it's alive."

"You're kidding me?" She laughed, he could hear her bright, amused, grin in her voice, but the Doctor was no longer interested in protecting her naivety. He had more important things to worry about, like where Martha was and how he was going to eliminate the Daleks once and for all.

"Does it look like I'm kidding?" He snarled at her, lips curling in fury as he snapped his dark glare around to settle on the girl, and her laughter evaporated.

For the first time, she looked truly scared and the Doctor made a concerted effort to reign in his temper, voice lowering once more to the dark rumble of thunder on the horizon.

"Inside that shell is a creature born to hate. Whose only thought and purpose in life is to destroy everything and everyone that isn't a Dalek too. It won't ever stop. Not until it's killed every human being alive."

"But... but if that not a human bein','' Tallulah said slowly, "it kinda implies it's from outta space...?" She looked at him with a hesitant smile, and the Doctor just stared back, not giving her the out she was clearly looking for.

"Yet again, that's a no with the kiddin'!" Tallulah breathed out, seeming torn between amazed, confused, and terrified. "Oy... well, what's it doin' here? In New York?" She asked, blinking up at him trustingly, despite his changed demeanour, and the Doctor forced back the rage as much as he could.

"That's what I need to find out," he admitted, falling silent again as plans within plans began to spin through his mind. It was only when Talulah shifted beside him that he remembered he wasn't alone in the tunnels, and he quickly grabbed at her arm.

Ignoring her sharp yelp, he began dragging her back the way they'd come, heading for the theatre.

"What the hell are yah doin'?" She yelled at him, "Let go o' me!"

"Every second you're down here, you're in danger. I'm taking you back right now," he snapped back. Tallulah had been a liability when he merely suspected the Daleks. Now that he'd seen one, she was potentially a deadly distraction, and he still had to find Martha, keep her safe and destroy the Daleks.

Dragging the still protesting showgirl back the way they'd come and away from the Dalek, the Doctor marched them both straight into the path of one of the pig-men and Tallulah screamed.

The sound could summon a Dalek at any moment, but the Doctor was no longer in the mood to run and released Talulah so he could advance on the creature, placing himself between it and the blond, too angry to realise that it wasn't attacking but trying to flee.

"Where's Martha!?" He shouted, advancing on the creature furiously, "What have you done with her!?"

As the creature pressed itself tightly behind the column of an archway, the Doctor moved to stand just out of arms reach, blocking any attempt it could make to escape and shining the light from the sonic at the creature.

"What have you done with Martha?" He demanded again, but despite his questions, he was brought up short. Surprised when the creature answered him in English.

"I didn't take her!"

The response was like a wet towel over the flames of his fury, and the Doctor's eyes narrowed as he took another look and saw that this one was different.

"Can you remember your name?" He asked, his voice softening again like a switch had been flipped inside his mind.

"Don't... look at me," the pig-man said, refusing to answer, but something in the way he stood, cowering against the stone wall, told the Doctor the answer to his question.

"Do you know where she is?" Tallulah asked from where he'd left her standing. She took a few steps forward, her heels clicking against the stone causing the pig-man to almost panic and the Doctor swiftly began to put some of the pieces together in his mind.

"Stay back!" The pig-man shouted, waving a hand at Talulah to stop her, but refusing to turn around. "Don't look at me!"

"What happened to you?" The Doctor asked because he was almost certain now that he knew who this person had been.

"They made me a monster," was his reply, but the Doctor needed to be sure, even as his mind was screaming that there was only one answer possible.

"Who did?"

"The Masters."

"The Daleks. Why?" Having his theory confirmed was a cold comfort, but the Doctor needed information and this man was his best chance.

"They needed slaves," the man said, but when the Doctor continue to stare at him he elaborated. "They need slaves to steal more people, so they created us. Part animal, part human. I escaped before they got my mind, but it was still too late."

What had been done to him was horrific, but it also didn't make any sense, and the Doctor's brows furrowed in thoughts.

None of what the Daleks were doing fit with what the Doctor expected them to do, and it was more than a little concerning.

If he could rely on one thing it was that the Daleks always wanted the same thing. They were predictable, so why did they suddenly want to steal humans instead of eradicating them?

"Do you know what happened to Martha?" He asked this time, instead of demanding answers, and the man nodded.

"They took her. It's my fault, she was following me," he offered, the apology in his eyes and the slump of his shoulders.

"Were you in the theatre?" Tallulah asked, her voice making the pig-man flinch, and the Doctor pressed his lips together as he watched the two carefully to see if it would play out as he hoped.

"I never..." the man sighed, half turning his face to the blonde showgirl, "yes."

"Why?" Tallulah demanded, "Why were you there?"

"I never wanted you to see me like this," came her despondent response.

"Why me? What I got to do with this?" Slowly, she started approaching the Doctor and the pig-man again. "Were you followin' me Is that why you were there?"

The Doctor watched the man's eyes close tightly, and he seemed to brace himself before slowly turning to face Tallulah, his features still in as much shadow as he could manage.

"Yes," he admitted softly, voice thick with emotion and Tallulah stared, her eyes wide and the Doctor watched her carefully, to see if she'd realised the truth yet.

"Who are you?" she asked, but there was an undercurrent of pain to her voice that said she knew and was simply seeking confirmation.

"I was lonely," the man said, and Tallulah continued her approach now, suddenly more confident and the Doctor could see in the tears that had gathered in her eyes that she'd figured it out.

"Who are you?"

"I needed to see you—"

"Who... are you?" Tallulah demanded, voice breaking, and the pig-man shook his head.

"I'm sorry," he started to turn away, and the wave of understanding that hit the Doctor almost hurt, when he remembered the look of fear Rose had given him after his regeneration.

"No, wait," the blonde grabbed at his arm, despite her fear, and pulled him back around to face her. "Let me look at you," Tallulah begged.

She tugged him into the light from a drain above them and let her eyes skitter over his face.

Laszlo?" she finally whispered, "My Laszlo?"

When he didn't deny it, and just stared at her with discoloured skin and tusks emerging from between his lips her face crumpled and the tears began to fall.

"Oh, what have they done to you?" She cried, hands straightening his collar, and stroking gently over his face and neck.

"I'm sorry," Laszlo whispered, "I'm so sorry."

The Doctor swallowed hard at the grief in those words, but he'd given the pair as much time as he could spare. The Daleks were still roaming the sewers and he still needed to find Martha.

"Laszlo, can you show me where they are?" He asked, moving to stand beside the two lovers now that he knew the man still had his own mind.

Laszlo turned to him and stared a moment, before speaking slowly, as though the Doctor didn't understand exactly how dangerous the Dalek's were.

"But they'll kill you."

"If I don't stop them, they'll kill everyone," he replied, face grave. Stealing humans might not be the normal way for Daleks to go about things, but he didn't believe for a moment that their end game had changed.

Laszlo sighed, and his lips pressed together around the tusks as he nodded. He turned back to Talulah who, even through her tears, managed to produce a smile for him, and Laszlo faced the Doctor again with a new glint of determination in his eyes.

"Then follow me."

Tosh and Owen had driven Estelle to the nearest hospital, just so that there would be someone available to monitor her overnight, the doctor had reassured Jack gently, and Tosh had already taken care of Moses and arranged for someone to fix the broken windows in the woman's kitchens before they'd left the house.

Jack had insisted on driving Roses' car back to the hub, and she had contented herself with changing into some dry clothes from the boot and curling up in the back seat, letting the street lights soothe her into a light sleep.

They must have been halfway back to Cardiff when Gwen's softly whispered voice drew her attention, but Rose didn't bother sitting up or waking fully, trusting Jack and Gwen to keep her safe if there were any problems.

"It wasn't your dad in love with Estelle all those years ago, was it?" Gwen murmured quietly. "It was you."

She heard Jack sigh, but after a moment he answered, voice just as quiet.

"We made a vow once, that we'd be with each other until we died. I know that's not possible, what with my... condition, but..." he trailed off and Rose thought that was all that would be said on the topic, but then Gwen spoke again.

"Does she know? How important Estelle is to you?"

Rose forced her eyes to flicker open slightly, just enough to see Gwen gesturing over her shoulder, a finger pointing at Rose but the woman's eyes were on the side of Jack's face as he stared out the windscreen, focussed on steering the car through traffic.

"Rose... Rose knows as much as you, and a little more," he admitted. "She's known me a long time. She's as close to a sister as I'm ever likely to have," he confessed, and silence fell over the car once more, letting Rose slip back into dreams with a warmth in her chest and the shadow of a smile on her lips.

When she woke again, she was lying on her bed in her room at the hub, and Rose took a moment to carefully stretch, wincing at the bruises along her ribs that she hoped Jack hadn't discovered.

Slowly, she pulled herself to her feet and checked the time, only to discover it was around six in the morning, which explained why every muscle in her body felt stiff and tight.

Moving to the bathroom, she took a hot shower first, before she braved the mirror to investigate the full extent of the damage.

The first, and most obvious injury, was the bruise along her jaw. The corner of her mouth had a small cut that had already scabbed over, and Rose nudged at it with her tongue until she winced and was forced to leave it alone.

Her shoulder and hip were both aching from the hard landing against the paving slabs in Estelle's garden, and when she lowered her eyes down the length of her reflection she could see that her ribs were covered in colours from yellow and green, through to dark purple and black.

The second blow from the faeries, the one that had kept her away from Estelle.

"It looks like a rainbow threw up on me," Rose muttered to herself, before gently drying off and moving back into her room to get dressed in some soft, cotton trousers and a loose white tank top.

There would be no hiding the bruising from Jack then, she decided quickly. It was too extensive, and she took a moment to brace herself for that conversation before leaving her room and seeking out the ex-time agent.

She eventually discovered him in his office nursing what looked, and smelt, like brandy. His eyes snapped from the glass to her as she entered the room, and he smiled at her gently.

"Good to see you up and around. I was worried when you fell asleep in the car. Didn't so much as stir when I carried you inside," he teased, but she could see that his concern had been real.

"Blame it on the adrenaline," she told him, lowering herself into the chair on the other side of his desk, and sighed when she saw him spot her careful movements.

"You were injured," he growled and Rose shook her head.

"I told you, I just got in their way."

"That's what you said about your jaw. You didn't tell me—"

"Jack, breathe," Rose said slowly. "I'm not dying, I'm not bleeding," she promised him softly, "I won't lie and say it's comfortable, or even small, but it's just bruising."

He hesitated, and his eyebrows drew together in a frown. "Show me?" He asked, and Rose smiled and nodded, having fully anticipated that request.

He came around the desk and crouched down beside her as she pulled her shirt up, and Jack sucked in a breath through his clenched teeth, hissing sharply before running his hands over his face.

"Damn it, Rosie!" He cursed softly, before gazing up at her, still frowning.

"I asked you to protect her, I thought it went without saying that you needed to protect yourself as well," he scolded gently, and Rose couldn't meet his eyes.

"Apparently, it did need saying," he muttered to himself, and took her shirt from her fingers, tenderly replacing the soft cotton.

"Anything else?" He asked, and although Rose debated not telling him, his claiming of her as a sister that she'd overheard in the car convinced her otherwise.

That, and she knew that discovery later would only invite the Captain's anger, so she sighed and nodded.

"My hip and shoulder. I landed hard when they tossed me away from Estelle, but I think it's just more bruising—Ah!" She gasped as he carefully took hold of her arm and began slowly manipulating the joint, ignoring her hisses of pain beyond a slight tightening of his jaw.

"You might have torn the muscle, but I think you're right. It's mostly just bruising," Jack agreed a few minutes later, releasing her arm to brush her hair away from her face.

"Do you know what worries me the most?" Jack asked, and Rose turned to face him, letting her eyes flicker over his face before she frowned and shook her head.

"We don't even know what you promised them for Estelle's life," Jack whispered, as though scared that voicing the thought would bring disaster down upon them.

Maybe he was right to worry, Rose thought to herself because, before she could even attempt to reassure him, his phone rang.

Jack had officially banned Rose from driving until her ribs and shoulder healed, so he drove the pair of them to Gwen's house.

The sun was just brushing the horizon as they crossed the city, and mere moments after they walked through the front door, Rose gasped aloud.

Her jaw dropped at the destruction that had been wrought on Gwen's home, but the woman was focussed on Jack and it didn't take a genius to see the fear and fury in every line of Gwen's body.

"In the whole of my working life I have never had to bring the bad times home with me," Gwen said, forgoing any kind of greeting. "I have never had to feel threatened in my own home, but not any more because this means these creatures can invade my life whenever they feel like it, and I'm scared, Jack!" Gwen finished, just shy of a shout.

Her words had Jack's attention fully focussed on Gwen, and Rose's eyes narrowed as she stayed in the doorway, watching Gwen chew out her friend as Jack let her, without comment.

"What chance did Estelle have? What chance did Rose have?" Gwen demanded, flinging her arm out towards Rose, "What chance do any of us have?!"

Rose expected Jack to reassure her, but he didn't. Just lowered his eyes to the floor, his features pained and sad at the reminder of the injuries the people he cared about now bore.

He continued moving around Gwen's living room and shook his head silently. At the destruction, or in denial, Rose couldn't tell, but her own anger was rising even as Gwen pressed the back of her shaking hand to her mouth.

Rose could almost see her coming to the end of her patience, and she knew Jack needed to give her something, but the Captain's night had been just as long as Gwen's, and he was in no position to provide anyone with any kind of comfort.

Rose took a few careful steps into the room and ran a hand down Gwen's back, feeling the other woman take a few deep breaths, and flex her shaking fingers before nodding her thanks to Rose and turning back to Jack.

Her voice was softer now and kept level under paper-thin restraint. She tried, again, the pry answers from the man still gazing around her house.

"You said that these creatures protect their own."

"Yeah," Jack answered quietly, and Rose frowned.

"Their own?" She asked, head tipping to one side and Gwen glanced back at her.

"The Chosen Ones. Jack, you mentioned the Chosen Ones. What are they?" Gwen asked, and now Rose wanted answers as well.

"How many are there?" Gwen tried again, but the Captain just picked up one of the stones that the faeries had left behind, and the thin thread of control that Gwen had wrestled with frayed and unravelled in the face of his silence.

"Tell me, Jack!" She shouted at him, drawing in a sharp breath as she realised what she'd done, but he didn't even turn to face her.

"All these so-called faeries were children once," he said eventually, his voice slow and carefully controlled, "from different moments in time, going back millennia. Part of the lost lands."

"Lost lands?" Rose prompted gently, "Jack, what are you talking about?"

"The lands that belong to them. The ones that humans encroached on, took over and built upon."

"Alright, fine, but what do they want now?" Rose asked, and she could see Gwen nodding beside her. "Why are they here, right now?"

At long last, Jack turned to face them, and he looked tired as he answered their questions in a soft, sad voice.

"They want what's theirs. The next Chosen One."