She was brunette, pale, with blue eyes and a pretty smile but the most remarkable thing about her was that she was completely unremarkable. Her neutral-coloured clothes and the canvas shopping bag at one side, signified nothing more or else than everyday human life.

It was slightly disturbing, Jack Harkness thought, that the Feyad looked like no one he knew. They were supposed to take the form of the viewer's deepest desire. Worse than that, or maybe better (he hadn't decided) they were supposed to know the deepest desires of anyone who looked upon them. It was kind of interesting to watch Martha and Gwen surveying her with a mixture of intrigue and apprehension. Maybe, to it, he was a blank. It wouldn't be the first time. She looked like a thousand human women he'd seen. His deepest desire indeed! No way were his tastes anything that ordinary!

Locked up, she looked slightly obscene, as if they'd suddenly developed an interest in kidnapping any old passer-by and throwing her into the vaults alongside snarling weevils. The only interesting point to note there of course, that the weevil had not the slightly impact on her. She had glanced once in its direction then turned away, as if to say, is that really the best you can do?

"We need to check if there's any more of them," he said to no one in particular. The thought of dozens of these creatures running about and driving Cardiff's population into a frenzy was more than he thought his brain could handle at the moment. It was all too probable too. This one had been detected standing, just standing in middle of a street, for God's sake as if waiting to be found, or to do untold damage. He saw Martha glance sharply at him and knew that his mood of late had not gone unnoticed.

"You think this latest rift activity might bring more of them?" Gwen asked.

"God knows what else it'll bring," he said gloomily, "never seen this much activity in the space of two days."

"Would do we do with him in the long run?" Martha asked.

Jack raised an eyebrow.

"Him?"

"Yeah..."

"Out of interest, what, or who does he look like?" Jack asked teasingly.

"You're looking at him! Oh!" She clapped a hand over her mouth as if afraid she'd said too much.

"That's the beauty of their make-up," he said, almost dreamily, "try and study them and the students tie themselves up in knots trying not to reveal what they see."

"Are we agreed it's a him then?" Gwen asked, carefully not looking at either of them.

The creature was smiling, clearly thoroughly entertained.

"Why not ask?" Jack said. He turned to meet the eyes of the seated woman.

"So? Are you actually male or female?"

She smiled engagingly back at him and said nothing.

"Can they communicate?" Gwen asked.

"Not with us, apparently."

"So no one knows what they really look like?" Martha asked.

"No. I don't think they even know themselves. All they ever see when they look at someone is what they want to see."

"Psychologists could have a field day with them," Gwen said.

"And doctors," Jack added, looking at Martha who looked completely fascinated with their new arrival.

"Go on, put your eyes back in and see if there's anything unusual going on," he said, "believe me, we really don't want a hoard of them running around."

"No," Martha said dreamily. Gwen glanced sharply at her and took her arm.

"Come on," she said.

Left alone with the creature, Jack met its eyes. The eyes were the only things now that made it look different, he thought. But he couldn't really say why. He rubbed his forehead tiredly. Today really wasn't his day.

She stood up and walked over to the glass, watching him intently. He moved his hand back to his side and regarded her steadily. On second thoughts, she wasn't really as unremarkable as he'd first thought, he decided. Those eyes! He moved a little closer.

She stared at him for a second longer then held out a hand.

"No, sorry, sweetheart," he said heartily, "that's not going to work on me."

Then he realised she was pointing at his jacket pocket.

"Neat trick," he told her sternly. "But you know nothing about me. Nothing."

He turned and walked back through the dark hallway, glancing back once to check her reaction. But her face was calm and quiet. She sat neatly, turned slightly in his direction, as if quite confident that he would return.

...........................................

"He's not acting like himself," Martha said in a low voice to Gwen, "and he doesn't even look right. I mean, it's not like him to be tired, or ill. Have you ever seen...?"

"Just because he can't die doesn't mean he has to feel 100% all the time," Gwen said, sounding slightly defensive.

"He and Ianto were arguing last night. Just when I was leaving. It sounded pretty heated."

"Well, that's not exactly unheard of."

"No but it made me realise, it was the first time in days he sounded anyway animated!"

"Maybe he misses the Doctor and the travelling. Last time, he was a bit the same."

"No. It's more than that. I have a feeling." Martha looked away in the direction of the vault.

"Do you think he's ok down there, with that creature? He might be a bit...vulnerable."

"Jack's not vulnerable! He's dealt with much worse!"

"I know. It's just...What?" She pointed to the screen that Gwen was suddenly staring intently at.

"Nothing."

"Come on...what?"

"Like I said, nothing. Literally. No reports of any sort. No aliens, no ghosts, no crackpots. It's never happened before."

"Quiet day?" Martha suggested.

"Yeah, I suppose." Gwen looked slightly uneasy. "Guess I'll just do the usual checks on Chiswick and..."

"You think there's something wrong with Donna or the Doctor?"

"No, I'm sure there isn't. We've started keeping a special eye on anywhere or anyone connected with him."

Martha looked at the next screen, which showed up every angle of the vault. At the end of the corridor, Jack stood near the door, as if unsure which way to go. After a moment, he lowered his head and continued walking back towards them, his face completely preoccupied.

"Yeah. That might be no harm," she said vaguely.

......................................................................................

The TARDIS shuddered violently, almost flinging the Doctor to the ground. He clutched the controls, pulling one lever sharply downwards and staring around wildly.

"What's wrong now?" Donna asked irritably. After hours of being tossed about in her bed like a ship on high seas, she had moved back to the console room in the hopes of finding things calm in the eye of the storm, so to speak.

"You said she'd been through a lot," Jenny suggested.

"Yeah. All this messing with time and huon energy has an effect on the atmosphere as well. But it shouldn't be too much," the Doctor said. "You'd think after a good night's rest..."

"...which is more than we've had," Donna muttered.

"...usually she's fine again. It's like she doesn't want to go where we want to go. Come on!" He pulled down on a red lever with all his might and as the ship began to sound once again, Donna could swear that in the hum, was a sigh, the sort of sigh she used to give to her mother when asked to do something she really didn't want to do.

"So, where will you go first?" she asked.

"Oh I don't know," the Doctor said, "we might do a little tour of the 20th century, I thought, to start with! Sure you don't want to come? You could visit home after. Plenty of time!"

"No, it's alright," she said. She was really overdue for a visit home. Besides, she knew that the Doctor and Jenny needed some time to themselves. It was only right.

"How long will you be going for?" Jenny asked.

"Whatever. A day or two."

"We'll bring you back something! And your grandfather! What do you think he'd like?"

"I think what he'd most like is to see you two when you pick me up," she said. "Are you going to show Jenny Torchwood?"

"Yeah," the Doctor said slowly, "thought we might look in on Jack." He frowned slightly and Donna knew he was still worried about the way Jack had looked when they dropped him back.

"Yeah, that's probably no harm," she said.

They fell silent as the TARDIS settled into position.

"Are we here?" Jenny asked.

"Yep. Chiswick. Right time and everything. She finally decided to co-operate!" The Doctor patted the controls affectionately. "Don't worry, old girl. We'll let you get plenty of rest."

Again, Donna could have sworn that the distant hum sounded remarkably like a discontented "tut". She gathered up her bags and Jenny came over to give her a hug.

"See you soon," she said, the slightest hint of a question in her voice.

"Yeah," she said, "and enjoy yourself!" She turned to the Doctor.

"Don't go getting into trouble without me!"

"As if I would!" He grinned at her. "Say hello to Wilf, and your mother. And maybe...best to not mention the concussion until I'm well gone, eh?"

"See you!" She opened the door and stepped outside, marvelling as always, at the sheer familiarity of her street. While she'd been travelling through space, stuck in the spaceship amidst the threat of the asteroid, seeing new worlds, new times, whole new generations, all the while her old life was still here. Cars were passing up and down, people stepped in and out of houses and shops, things that she'd once never really noticed, safe in the security that nothing could change them.

She waited until the TARDIS vanished slowly from sight (still sounding sluggish, she had to admit) and ran up the path to her house, wondering if anyone would be there. No one answered the door and slightly disappointed at not being able to make an entrance, fished in her handbag for her front door key.

But the key wouldn't work. For a crazy moment, she wondered if, enraged at her recent silence, they'd had the locks changed. Frustrated, she took it out of the keyhole and glanced into the sitting room window.

The television was on. One of them had to be in. Maybe Gramps was upstairs and hadn't heard her. She ducked around the side of the house and headed towards the back garden.

The back door was unlocked and slightly open. She stepped inside and stopped dead.

Her grandfather and mother sat at the kitchen table, drinking tea and making no indication that they had heard or seen her.

"Very funny!" She threw the bags at her feet. "Come on! I've been in touch! Mostly."

Her grandfather reached across the table and turned up the volume on the radio.

"You know I'm alright with the Doctor!"

Her mother threw a swift, vague glance in her direction and turned away again.

"I meant to get home before now, really. Gramps?"

"Is the pot still hot, love?" he asked her mother.

"Should be." Her mother stood, wincing slightly as she did. She walked towards Donna but passed her and pushed the door closed once again before pressing the kettle.

"What's wrong? Can't you hear me?" Donna asked, a cold feeling beginning to seep through her.

"Mom!"

Her mother walked back to the table and filled her granddad's cup.

"Is this a joke?" Even as she said the words, she knew it wasn't. Neither of them were that good at keeping a straight face and really, her mother had never been one for the silent treatment. Words had always been her weapon of choice.

"Look at me!" She ran to the table and slammed her hand on it.

Neither of them glanced up.

Terrified now and hardly knowing what she was doing, Donna reached for the tea-pot. But she couldn't get a grip on it. For a horrible moment, she thought her hand would just pass through it. She could feel it but she couldn't touch it. Lifting it seemed an impossibility, as if suddenly it was the heaviest object in the world. Panicking, she rushed to the back door and tried to open it but the same thing happened when she reached for the handle. It was there, in her hand, but nothing passed from her body to it. She couldn't move it.

"Gramps! Come on, it's me, it's Donna! You can see me!"

She gazed around wildly then grabbed her handbag and rooted in it for her phone. Thankfully, she seemed to have no problem with either the bag or its contents. She dialled hastily and put the phone to her ear.

Nothing.

"Come on! Doctor!" She shook the phone and redialled frantically.

Nothing.

She backed away and leaned against the kitchen worktop, taking deep breaths. Something had happened. In all likelihood, something had happened to her. Something that had turned into some sort of ghost? Her mother and grandfather seemed fine, just the same as always. The house and street looked unchanged. She looked down at herself and patted her body, as if seeking reassurance that she was still solid.

The spaceship. All that messing with time and the Time Agency. Had she somehow been cancelled out?

But the Doctor hadn't seemed concerned that there was any possibility of it.

"I'll kill him," she muttered.

Half in a daze, she sank on to a chair beside her mother and watched their faces carefully for any sign of recognition. But they drank their tea in silence, turned towards the radio, completely unaware of her presence. What could she do? How long before the Doctor would decide it was time to return if he hadn't heard from her?

"I'll kill him slowly," she revised darkly. It was the nearest thing she had to a plan.