8. Rescue?

Once Bellatrix had slammed the door shut behind her, Snape turned back around to regard the Doctor. The Doctor remained still and held his tongue, unsure if he could trust the Snape of this universe and knowing that, even if he could, Voldemort may very well be searching his memories. It was therefore better for the both of them if the Doctor pretended to still be in the grips of the potion.

Snape withdrew his wand and several containers. He made the empty ones float in the air next to the Doctor – clearly reluctant to let them touch the dirty floor – and began to visually examine him. He appeared to be deciding where to begin.

Wordlessly, Snape yanked the Doctor's tweed sleeve up so that the forearm was exposed. One of the containers floated over to the Doctor's arm, and Snape used his wand to make an incision. Fighting the urge to wince, the Doctor watched in fascination as his blood floated into the vial, the stopper jumping in automatically after it was full. The flow of his blood slowed to a more normal level, trickling out now rather than flowing.

Snape pocketed the vial and picked the Doctor's arm back up, as it had fallen weakly into the alien's lap after the blood had been extracted. This time, Snape used his wand to cut off some of the Doctor's skin, and the latter could not help the breath of air that escaped his lips as pain lanced through his arm. Snape's head immediately snapped up and he stared at him with narrow eyes.

Pocketing the container with the Doctor's skin inside, Snape continued to stare at the Doctor, before pointing his wand once more at the bare arm. Not breaking eye contact, Snape used his wand to force more and more pressure onto the wound, then across the arm, until the Doctor could not help but gasp, his eyes closing briefly. Snape immediately withdrew his wand, still staring at the Doctor with slightly wide-eyed interest.

The Doctor stared right back, pleading with his eyes, reluctant to say anything to the other man in case it got him into trouble with Voldemort later. He felt the brush of Snape's mind against his, and gently but firmly pushed him away. Snape raised an eyebrow, and then did something that made the Doctor suddenly very glad that Snape seemed to be Voldemort's chosen scientist.

He reached for another vial.

oOo

The Doctor stood in front of the bucket and stared at it for a moment. He cricked his neck from side to side as though he was gearing up for a fight. His hands were down by his sides and a phantom cowboy hat sat on his head. He considered that for a moment. No, better be a fez. For good luck. He lifted his arms, ignoring the bandaged wounds that Snape had left behind, and focussed on the bucket.

"Accio bucket."

It didn't move. He pondered that for a moment. All things considered, perhaps it wasn't the best object to try and summon. Knowing him he would probably end up with it on his head or something.

"Ok," he said aloud, ignoring the disgusting image that that produced, "something else then."

Maybe you should conjure a chicken.

"Isn't it supposed to be a dove?" he asked himself.

You don't eat doves.

"Ah." It made sense, he supposed.

It had been a day or two since Snape had taken samples from him, and of course he had received no more food. He supposed he should be thankful that he was locked in a cell and therefore not expending as much energy as he normally would be. But still, maybe if they fed him more he wouldn't be having those weird dreams about Jammy Dodgers which turned into Voldemort and gave the world noses for Christmas.

You really are going stir-crazy, aren't you?

Shut up. He looked around the room for something else to try and summon, and let out a triumphant "ha!" when he found it.

"Accio dust ball!"

Nothing. The Doctor threw himself onto the ground next to it and peered at it. It was an ordinary dust ball. Not sentient. Not stuck by superglue, not held back by magic – after all, what would be the point in that – and definitely very moveable. So why was it not moving?

Don't even think about rhyming spells.

"I wasn't," he huffed at himself. He got slowly back to his feet and stood with his hands on his hips. "Aha."

He walked over to the window and stared at the sunset, keeping his eyes peeled for any signs of life. A bird flew past and he tried to summon it, but it was out of sight before he could even finish the word.

You can't summon living things. And even if you could, the prison is surrounded by a force field. It would be like trying to lasso a bull from inside a house without windows.

His inner monologue could really stand to be nicer.

The Doctor slid down the wall to sit on the floor, leaning his head back. He couldn't do it. He couldn't even summon dust. Maybe there was some sort of magic-y thing around the cell preventing magic? Because if there wasn't, surely every wizard in this place capable of wandless magic would be able to escape. But then Snape, Voldemort and Bellatrix had managed it…

Then again, they had also walked through the force field that kept knocking him off his feet whenever he got too close. They could obviously control the "settings", so to speak. So the question remained whether it was possible to undo it or not.

Of course it isn't. You'd need magic to undo something magical, and it's stopping you from doing magic.

"I could try it when they're in here, when the ban is gone," he pointed out.

His inner monologue sighed. When they're there to stop you?

"Good point."

He didn't like this, not one bit. He closed his eyes and felt his mind drifting, carried off into the dark by despair, hunger and exhaustion. He would rest for a minute, and come up with a plan later…

oOo

Something jolted him awake. He looked around the room in dazed shock, unaware that he had even fallen asleep. What was that? The cell was dark, the sun having set while he was asleep. There was no movement, but he called out just in case.

"Hello?"

Had someone else been put in here with him? He stood slowly, using the wall as a guide, and stepped into the middle of the room, taking slow and cautious steps.

"Hello?"

No answer. He swept the cell, keeping his eyes peeled – figuratively speaking, since it was almost pitch black – for anyone lying on the floor. There was no one in here. The Doctor made his way tentatively closer to the door and stopped just short of where he had learnt to find the force field.

"Hello?" Again, no answer.

So what had woken him up? He remained standing near the door for a good half an hour before he decided that it was safe to return to his earlier position. He leaned his head back against the wall once more, and sighed.

He saw River and the Ponds in the pool of light by the window. They weren't doing anything in particular, just standing there and staring at him. The Doctor jerked back upright.

"What?"

The three of them just continued to stare.

The Doctor leapt to his feet and ran circles around them, examining every inch of them with his eyes, searching for inconsistencies, for signs of where the projections were coming from. Nothing; they looked so real they could have been in the room with him.

"Sweetie," River suddenly said in a mischievous tone, causing the Doctor to jump out of his skin and trip over the bucket, "if you want to look you only have to ask."

"River?" The Doctor asked, ignoring the bucket and stepping slowly over to her, his hearts beating unnaturally fast.

"We're here too you know," Amy pointed out, pouting.

The Doctor glanced between all three of them, brow furrowed. "No you're not."

"Er… yeah we are," Rory argued, eloquent as always. He poked the Doctor in the arm. "See?"

The Doctor took a step back. "But… but you can't be!" He continued walking backwards, unnerved by their lack of expression at that. "You're a projection. I know you are."

"Really, Sweetie?" River asked, finally reacting to the Doctor's wariness. She walked slowly up to him and ran a hand seductively down his cheek. "Can a projection do this?" And she kissed him.

The Doctor stood stock still, too shocked to even flail. How was this happening? It was too realistic.

River pulled back, smiling wryly. "Well, I suppose a statue is a slight improvement on an octopus. But not to worry, it's still early days." She winked at him. "You'll learn. You have the best teacher after all."

His mouth opened and closed like a goldfish. "What are you?" He looked past her to Amy and Rory. "How are you doing this?"

"Doing what?" Amy replied.

The Doctor ran a hand through his hair. "Hallucinations, projections, shape-shifters…" he listed, counting on his fingers. "But you don't seem to know you are."

"Are what?" Amy asked, becoming more vocal and animated now, just like the real Amy. "Doctor, what are you talking about? It's us! We came to rescue you!"

"You don't even know I'm here," the Doctor countered. "I was alone."

"We found the TARDIS," Rory said.

River quickly silenced him. "They could be listening."

The Doctor stared at all of them. "Not shape-shifters then. Too realistic." He peered into each of their faces and prised open their mouths, searching for a sign of some other life form peeking through. "Nope, too realistic."

He let go of Rory – who looked relieved – and began to pace his cell. "Mental breakdown?"

Amy snorted. "Bit late for that," she teased.

He clicked his fingers, pointing at her. "Right," he said. "Of course. Madman with a box, that's me in a nutshell. Projections?" He examined the walls. "But where from?"

"Doctor," Amy said, walking over to him and looking very concerned, "it's us, it's really us. Please tell me you believe me."

"Oh, Pond," he muttered, looking into her eyes. "I wish I could. But it's impossible, don't you see?" He waved a hand at the cell around him. "There's no way you could have made it to this version of Earth, even less likely you'd find me and as for breaking into this cell, well…" he paused, trying to ignore their concerned expressions. "It borders on the ludicrous."

River became angry at that. "Just because you don't know how we could have managed it doesn't mean we didn't," she snapped. "You don't know everything, Sweetie."

He chose to ignore that. He refused to get into an argument with a fake River. "Which leaves hallucination," he muttered to himself. "Or maybe it's spells. Yes… because it's too long since I drank or ate for a hallucinogen to still have effect. And you're all becoming more realistic the longer you're here, which means that whatever it is feeds off my brainwaves and memories. Which means…" he spun around, as though he could see through the walls, "that someone on the outside is having a bit of fun. But how does that even work?"

This didn't exist in the books.

You're telling me. But parallel universes meant that anything could happen. Or… maybe Snape had somehow managed to create an airborne version of a hallucinogenic potion and they had been pouring it into his room using a hidden nozzle?

Too Muggle.

But possible. Parallel universe, remember?

"Doctor?" Amy asked, placing a hand on his shoulder in concern.

The Doctor jumped and moved automatically away from her. And straight into the force field. He landed hard on the stone ground, banging his head hard enough to send himself spiralling into beckoning darkness.