"I'm the Doctor."

"Dr…?" she drew out, prompting for a last name.

"Exactly. You?"

"Meg." She replied. Two could play that game.

After about a half mile of running, they paused to catch their breath. Meg bent over panting, her hand pressed tight against the pain in her side. The Doctor listened for sounds of pursuit. She was impressed. She was in shape, but the Doctor looked barely winded.

"That man, he's a Verloc. They're hunters. We haven't lost him for long. They hunt by scent. You need to circle around to the next block. There's a big wooden blue box, shed size, says 'police call box' on the sides, can't miss it. Here are the keys. Go inside. You'll be safe there."

She shook her head. "Won't work."

"No, it's sturdier than it looks. The assembled hoards of Ghen-"

"-I mean, he'll follow me, not you. You go to your box and call for help. I'll draw him away. We're near the Thames; I'll jump in the river; hopefully, he'll lose the trail there." And hopefully avoid a life-threatening infection from whatever's in the water… she thought, but that was a concern for later if she made it through tonight alive.

"What makes you so sure?"

"He's a hunter, you said. He'll follow the scent of blood over any other, right?"

"Yeah, so?"

"So, back there, in the fight, I tore open my stitches." Meg peeled her hand from her side. Deep red looked black in the darkness and stained her white shirt. "The run hasn't helped anything."

The Doctor pulled a cylinder from his coat pocket and aimed it at her wound. A high pitched eeeeeeee, and a little blue light turned on. It made her side feel funny, and then the pain began to ebb.

"What is that?"

"It's a sonic… instrument. The sound waves are strong enough to vibrate your nerves, which interrupt the pain signals to the brain. Should hold you a short while, I can't do anything about the blood loss. Can you still run?"

"As far as I have to." She answered.

Meg was running on autopilot with the Doctor pulling her along by the time they reached a warehouse. When he opened the door, she didn't look twice.

"Ha ha!" the Doctor crowed with a jump and a slamming of doors.

She leaned against a stack of crates, lightheaded and rubbery legged. Burning pain forgotten in the chase came back with a vengeance for being ignored for so long. The fight tore her stitches; she wasn't sure what the run did, but any more damage and she'd be in the same shape as the night she got them.

"You said they hunt by scent…" Meg reminded him, fighting to even her breathing. They wouldn't be alone for long. They needed to get to the docks and into the water, or the alien would hunt her down no matter where they hid.

"Do you trust me?

There was something she couldn't put a finger on, but she felt she could trust him with her life. "More than the creature outside, less than myself." She answered bluntly. It might have seemed lukewarm, but he was still a stranger. She mistrusted her trust in this man.

"Take off your shirt."

She raised an eyebrow. "Really, in a warehouse, on our first date? What sort of girl do you think I am?" the adrenaline and blood loss made her punchy. She smiled, gratified that when she obeyed, he turned his face away. Another point in the good guy column for the stranger.

"It's for your scent. I'll set up a false trail around the warehouse; you hide under the stairs there."

"I know what it's for." She said, annoyed her quip was lost on him. Did he really think she was flirting with him while running for their lives, with a gaping abdominal wound? The boy was cute, but she'd have to be a nymphomaniac to be seriously thinking about that right now. But a little lie down sounded heavenly, so she couldn't stay mad.

Moments after she settled herself, the warehouse doors rattled open. The alien was closer on their heels than they thought.

"Simple trickssss." The Verloc hissed. "I will find you, human. Come out, and your death will be quicker."

She slowed her breathing as much as she could, her lungs protesting. She thought of those sharp teeth and empty eyes and trembled. Meg couldn't run much more. The Thames was close, but not close enough – the beast wasn't even winded. She would have to trust the mysterious Doctor.

An alien hunting an alien. Her mind screamed at her that she was making a mistake. Was her trust real, a strange connection two beings occasionally formed? Or was it a manipulation for a far worse fate?

The Verloc was close – she could see his legs through a gap in the boxes she hid behind. Where was the Doctor?

"She's gone." The Doctor announced from the catwalk. "Besides, she was wounded. That's hardly a challenge. Now, me on the other hand. Prime condition. Rare breed. Wouldn't I make a better trophy?"

"Yessss." The Verloc answered.

"Right. Catch me if you can." The catwalk rattled loudly as the Doctor began to run.

The Verloc didn't give chase. Meg bit her knuckle. A moment later a box lifted and hurled through the air – hitting the Doctor in the back and knocking him off the catwalk to the ground. He didn't get up. From the way his convulsed, Meg guessed the wind got knocked out of him. The Verloc made a chuffing, slithering sound that raised the hairs on Meg's neck. It was laughing! Slowly, the Verloc approached his prey.

"The light!" The Doctor got his breath and yelled.

What?

"Sunlight burns them."

He was getting to his feet, but too slowly. The Verloc was almost on him. Meg looked and saw a looped chain that ran to the warehouse shutters and pulled. With a piercing scream that would live forever in her nightmares, the Verloc's palid grey skin turned red before the dawn's pink light and blistered. He tried, pathetically, to crawl out of the rectangle of light, before it lay still. Her stomach turned as the smell like burning worms reached her.

"We did it!" The Doctor crowed. "Meg-"

She heard his voice from far away. She didn't feel the need to respond, and it was doubtful she could summon the energy anyway.

"Meg?" the Doctor said again.

The voice was louder this time, and it was starting to annoy. Why couldn't he let her sleep? She took a deep breath. The cool concrete felt so good, she didn't want to leave it.

"Meg, are you okay over there? I'm coming." Footsteps were getting closer. She had to be up by the time they reached her - an ingrained instinct to hide her weakness.

"MEG!"

"I'm fine. I'm coming. Quit shouting." She found the strength she needed in that instinct and annoyance. But as she stood, she found her blood soaked into her jeans down to her knees. Pressing down on her wound she saw blackness muddle her vision as what felt like a bolt of lightning shoot from her side up to her collarbone and down her leg.

"Meg…" from his look of sympathy, she was looking worse for the wear.

There was being macho, and then there was being stupid. "If you could take me to the hospital…"

He took her free arm and wrapped it around his shoulders.

She didn't see the building he took her to. She used all her concentration on staying conscious – a losing battle – her vision coming and going. She remembered making her way to a white duct-taped chair. He left her. She heard him rummaging.

"I have just the thing – I'll sting like crazy, but I don't have nano-genes onboard, I travel and if they ever escaped it'd…"

She knew nothing until a sharp pain brought her back from oblivion. She batted him away, annoyed she had little coordination and less strength. "Ow. Quit it. A little rubbing alcohol, a needle and thread and I'll be out of your hair."

"Do you ever stop fighting? Lie still." He ordered.

She tried to obey and hoped his title of 'doctor' wasn't a Ph.D. Her legs hung down from the love-seat length armless chair and watched warily as he shone a reddish orange laser on her torn and seeping gash. She curled against the sensation it caused.

"Sorry, sorry." He winced. "Almost done. How'd you get these?"

"You want me to talk now?" she gasped out, with a white-knuckled grip on the iron railing behind the seat.

"Done!" he announced, tossing the healing laser over his shoulder with a self-satisfied smirk.

Meg prodded the area in disbelief. The wound was completely healed. Only blood marked where it had been. There wasn't even a scar.

"Amazing." Meg jumped off the chair. A little woozy, she noticed, but hardly anything to worry about. "So, what is this place?"

"It's my spaceship. It's called the TARDIS: time and relative dimensions in space."

"You're an alien." It wasn't a question.

"I am."

"What kind?"

"The good kind." He said. "I'm a Time Lord from Gallifrey."

"…Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yeah." She shrugged. "You saved my life. I think that qualifies as 'good.'"

The Doctor smiled. There was hope yet.