A/N: Mutant Random Plot-Bunny Runaway…Hehe. Thanks to my reviewers, My Reflection, alphaskiier, Arcander, and Nighthowler, and my Story Alert signers, Arcander, Kateri1, and Suuki-Aldrea. I know the flashbacks over the crash from several POV is confusing, but I assure you, the Hunter-Gratzner is not going to crash on top of the TARDIS. Rather the TARDIS is inside the H-G as it crashes. Hopefully though there's enough of the movie plot preserved here that it still makes sense.

Summary: The Doctor, reeling from the effects of the TimeWar as the last surviving Timelord, stumbles into a situation he cannot ignore when the TARDIS lands him inside a ship that is clearly in trouble. But his reasons for staying once he's made planetfall might not be so benign.

500 years in the future, something has prompted humanity to explode out from their home world. Some of those leaving Earth behind view the world as nearly a myth. Others know better. In fleeing Earth-that-Was humanity scattered to the stars across the galactic arm. Lets just imagine then that Blue Sun exists on the opposite side of this galactic arm from the rest of civilized space, and that one ship is taking a ghost run through the long route. Port of Departure: Eavesdown Docks, Persephone. Mixed Sino-Anglo culture. Port of Call: Tangiers-5. Darkside. Mixed Islamic-Anglo culture. Crew complement: Four. Passengers: Forty. Living 'Cargo': Two.

So what happens when a passenger by the name of Dr. Simon Tam and his cargo get on the wrong ship? Why does the Doctor's TARDIS insist on shielding a certain cryo-box? And just how is this related to the TimeWar?

Doctor Who / Firefly / Riddick X-over.

Features Doctor 9, Pre-"Rose"; Simon and River Tam, Pre-"Serenity" Firefly episode 1 and the cast of Pitch Black…

Doctor Who and the Great Eclipse

Part Four

Lost

She couldn't believe it. Here she was, buried to the gills, but alive. Of course if she was the only one that survived then things could be quite dire. Carolyn Fry pushed that thought out of her mind and strained to hear anything else, anything at all that might indicate life. She wasn't sure but it sounded like rhythmic clanging on metal faintly hammering in the distance. Hopefully that was footsteps.

Internally, her senses were muted. The soil was heavy, gritty and rough. There was an ache that made her wonder if she'd be nothing more than one giant bruise under that massive amount of dirt. Thankfully only a little was next to her skin because of the warm-up suit. She thought that nothing was broken, but the press of soil made it hard to tell. It was dark, dusty and smolderingly hot. And hard to breathe, but that might have been the press of the weight upon her chest.

Then a beam of light cut through the dusty air, just a single swipe of illumination. Someone else has survived. She had to get their attention before they just discarded the area as being empty. Fry managed a swallow that moistened her mouth and got out a fairly strong, "Hey!"

"Hey, who?" came the masculine reply.

Thank God! There were others alive. And she had been found. "Hey, me!" she called. Surviving the crash only to die because she was buried up to her neck and couldn't get out would just be all too ironic. The light darted around again joined now by two others. "Over here." One beam found her, and the man holding the light crawled between the top of the dirt and the roof. Behind him are two other men.

"Looks like a crewmember," Johns called back to the others. "Amazing. I'm Johns."

"Carolyn Fry. I'd shake hands, but..."

The redhead managed a smile, "Zeke, Imam. Looks like our savior here." The other two men manage worn smiles too as they approach. The trio set to work digging her out. By hand. It's going to take them some time to actually get her free, but there's no help for it. 'At least there's four of us,' she reminds herself. The situation could be worse, so much, much worse. And there was such a huge amount of details that she didn't want to dwell upon. The ship hadn't been designed for this, crash landing on soil, although it had been retrofitted for such an occasion, rather poorly at that.

Honestly, she had expected to die. She had thought that they'd all die. Not that she had wanted to, but crashing was something that cropped up on the news once every few years usually with high body counts and no survivors. It was then a minor miracle that there were three uninjured, or nearly uninjured, men digging her out at this moment. She started wiggling a hand, finally having enough of the alien dirt removed to begin helping herself free. Then there was the idea that she was in charge, being as she was the senior rank on board. 'Don't think about it, don't.' But there was so much she didn't dare think about. She needed to know certain things to assess their chances of survival though. Fry almost didn't want to know, but was compelled to ask them as she was freed from her dirt packing, "Are there any others, Johns?"

"Better to show you, I think," answered the Imam.

Soon she is free and stumbling through the surreal crumpled metal that had been a ship she served on for the majority of her adult life. She was thankful for the firm hand on her arm as the redhead assists her in keeping her balance. Behind her the Imam and the prospector are following silently. Fry can't help but to be stunned by it all. The twisted wreckage, the tossed consoles, the flipped chairs and especially the blast of sunlight where a hull used to be blows her mind. By some miracle they have survived even as the ship was shattered. Then it hits her. This is the Nav-Bay. Where is Owens? She escapes from the grip on her arm and began rooting and tossing metal. Where is he?

This sudden frantic drive to locate something throws Johns. But Zeke doesn't question it, moving around to help the blonde woman move sheets of metal and bits of ship. Shifting through the wreckage. There's a strangled noise, like a harsh attempt to not sob as Fry goes still. She has uncovered what she was looking for. Zeke looks at Johns as Carolyn sinks to her knees besides a bloodless body. Douglas Owens, still strapped into the upended chair, so pale that there's no way he could be alive. She frowns and pushes the last piece of plating off the body with a fast swipe. There's a metal rod sticking out of Owens's chest, blood pooled around it.

She feels shock, and sorrow. She's served with this man for years. Not as long as she had been with Mitchell, but longer than Merritt. And she considered him a friend, nearly family, actually. Choked up and unable to voice the sob stuck in her throat Carolyn extended her hand to stroke his clammy face. Owens lets out a gasp and his eyes fly open, "Out, out, out, GET IT OUTTA ME!" Fry startled, recoiling hard away from him. He's still alive.

His yell seemed to be a beacon for the rest of the survivors. The docking pilot is only vaguely aware of them as their voices wash over her in a jumbled wave, "Pull it out of him..."

"No, it's too close to the heart..."

"You gotta do it, just do it fast..."

Fry gripped the rod, unsure of what she was about to do. God, why can't there be a doctor here?

Then Douglas spoke the words that she never wanted to hear again, "Don't touch it! Don't touch that switch!" She jerked her hand off the rod.

"You'll kill him, I'm tellin' you, shit, just leave it alone..."

"…delirious..."

"Doncha got some drugs for this poor man..."

But the only thing Carolyn Fry can hear is the screaming that Owens is doing, "Don't touch that switch!"

'Oh, god… I've got to shut him up!' she thought frantically. There's no way he's gonna make it anyhow, unless there's a skilled surgeon just about to materialize out of thin air. She thinks out loud, "Awright, awright, someone...there's Anestaphine in the med-lock, that end of the cabin...next to..." She looks back that direction and is cut short by the simple fact that all she can see is smoldering alien soil. Beside her Owens begins a scream that is inarticulate and rending. He must be in exquisite agony to make a sound like he's making. It's nearly inhuman. There's only one way to stop it. And she's going to have to do it. "Get away. Everybody. Go." She doesn't want to prolong this, and she doesn't want anyone else to see.

Zeke quickly exits, rounding up his mate. Others straggle out, including slowly, the Imam. Only Johns pauses to touch her back, like he's telling her he understands what she is about to do and that it's a mercy on her part to be strong enough to follow through with it. He has to catch Jack by the collar and drag the boy out.

There's only one person left behind to witness what she does, and he can't help it, chained as he is to the bulkhead support.

Carolyn begins to rock back and forth as she realizes what she's about to do. "Please forgive, Doug. I'm so sorry. I never meant -- " Her hand is on the rod now, and she can feel the slick from his blood coating it. He's not aware of anything but his own torment, and that almost makes this worse. "I'm sorry," she whispers as she shifts the rod with a sudden jerk. The silence hurts way more than it should.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Doctor Simon Tam has, over the last couple of hours, managed to stabilize the injured man suffering second and third degree burns over at least a third of his body. The entire time he had pushed aside the trouble and limitations that his human body should be dealing with, and it was only after that he wonders about the endurance and ease that he his finding himself dealing with the situation. His medical scanner indicated that the oxygen content of the atmosphere is nearly too low for human survival, like being at an extremely high altitude would be. And while he knows it is possible for humans to acclimate to such conditions, he also knows that he shouldn't be with as little time as he's had thus far.

Then there are the other two issues he doesn't want to think about but knows must be dealt with.

One is the other man, the strange and slightly inhuman gent who was ducking back out into the alien landscape over and over. He'd returned with slightly burnt bags that somehow managed to have things, like slightly melted bottles of water, hats, scarves, clothes for River, and medical supplies from a civilian emergency kit with a tube of burn salve, in them that were of use. While the items were obviously meant to distract from the strangeness of the fellow, and were quite necessary for survival, they couldn't keep Simon from discreetly turning his scan on the stranger's back as he stepped once again into the nearly noon double sunshine.

If Simon didn't know better, he'd swear that his scanner was acting up. He lightly tapped it to make sure and then stared at the unusual readings. Double heartbeat, low body temperature, unusual lung structure, digestive organs all wrong… If his scan was correct then the 'man' that has been helping him isn't and can't be human. With a frown, Simon put the scanner away. He was not sure what to think, aside from the fact that he owes the gent his life and maybe River's too. Human or not, the fellow must not be all bad.

The other is River. Simon knows that the power of the cryo-box that she is in will be giving out within the next few minutes. He can't be sure how his Mei-Mei will react once the top has been popped. He can't remember how he recovered from his near fatal bout of memory loss and can't shake the worry that she'll have the exact same problem. Simon doesn't even know the other man's name to call him for help. But if the power is lost and she's still sealed inside the box, he knows he'll lose her. Given that fact, Simon steadied himself and flipped the switches.

The Doctor is suddenly there, helping Simon move the heavy lid off the top of the white box. The younger man hopes that it's a good sign.

River feels herself thrust into an oven of heat, dry and oppressive. She can't breathe. The moisture from the cryo-bath clings but is fading quickly from her skin. Not breathing is bad. Even the quick change of position doesn't help her lungs take a breath. The bright light burns her eyes, and she's trying still to force herself to take a breath only her lungs refuse to actually do what she's telling them to do.

Panicked now, but not restrained, she realized she could move. Her arms fling themselves out, not to force anyone away but in an attempt to get some air in her lungs. The flailing threw her body from the locker. She hit the floor, landing on metal so hot that her knees sizzle. With a scream of surprise she back pedals into the side of the box, attempting to find the cool she knew was there. But she's breathing now. And that is a relief of its own. She closed her eyes and just took one shuddering breath after another, quite happy to just be breathing.

She felt hands, one set warm, one set cool, both comforting in the mental presence that came with them. She could sense them both easily. The one to her front was her brother. She had believed that no-one would come for her even as she send coded letter after coded letter out to him. She had tried to make him feel her distress, but had never been sure of the connection because of the drugs and mind games that she was subjected to. Now though, she could feel the bond between them, stronger than it had ever been before, thrumming with his concern, fear, and love.

And then there was the being behind her. Soothing, absorbing her chaotic mental feelings and sensations that flowed from without into her mind. He was filtering for her, doing what she couldn't do for herself. It was a blessed easing of her overtaxed mental resources. Although the sensations were tinged with an alien 'color' at least they were ordered and understandable. A sob escaped her lips. It's been so long since her mind has been her own, and suddenly she can see why, and what was done, and knows that nothing can 'fix' her. Her only hope is that this strange alien being behind her can teach her to cope with herself, because she's less human now than she's ever been.

Simon though thinks the tears are for something else. His hands move from her arms to her face, and she hears his voice, so sweet and rich, call through her haze, "River? River. It's okay. You're safe. I'm with you. You're safe, Mei-Mei." The outpouring of emotion from him is too much. Even as she wants to reassure him, she needs to shield herself from the intensity of it. She huddles back from Simon into the other, the cool one with the mind that is still and stable and quiet. Like a void. She has no idea that the chaos of her mind is a balm to his emptiness much as his blankness steadies her. The force of that alien mind flows around hers, forming a shield that even filters her connection to her brother. She is able to think with the situation like this.

She finds purchase with her hands in the shirt in front of her, "Simon?"

The filtered calm relief washes over her from her brother at the knowledge that she knows who he is. That allowed her own thudding heart to slow. She still has trouble breathing, but somehow it's easier than it should be, like the changes that have occurred to her are not just mental. She marvels in the ease of it, the acceptance of her new self by this alien presence behind her. It's almost normal feeling. Almost like she's still a girl. With just a bit extra. She lets her mind blossom in the new space that he's made for her inside her own mind and can sense threads of something wondrous resolve from annoying static to a seventh or eighth, or a ninth even, sense. Maybe she's not so crazy? Whatever the filament like layers are, he knows them. He sees them. They are more complex and more difficult to understand than anything she's ever encountered before is, but she wants and needs the challenge. But the glee is short lived as one thread sticks out in her mind's eye and she knows, horribly, surely, that there's nothing to be done to stop it. The agony of the knowledge sends her into a fit.

Simon is startled by River's screaming, clawing, fighting with a panic that is not her own. He's shocked by it, unsure of what to do. He looked at the other man, lost in his lack of understanding and only sees more of the same deep inside those alien blue eyes the same color as his own. Those eyes are like a mirror of River's display, turbulent even though the man doesn't act on it. Simon turns his attention back to his sister. Maybe he can talk her down. Calmly projecting his concern, he chatters in Chinese baby-talk at his Mei-Mei knowing that she's not listening but helpless to do otherwise unless necessary.

The Doctor can guess what the problem is, what River is likely seeing. His solution is to close himself off. But that makes her worse, not better. With a start he realized that something external was what she sensed and not his own mental agony. But he can't help her now; as River's mind closed off with a shield made of raw emotional panic and fear that is strong like steel plating. Given time he can peel it away and connect with her again, but he's not allowed that time. He can feel the artificial calm of the drugs that her brother delivers into her blood. The expression on his face must be ugly.

After what seems like endless hours, but is likely only a couple of minutes, Simon resorts to using drugs to calm her, to keep River from clawing them to pieces. She goes silent and lax from the shot; her hands maintaining a quite strong grip on the offending hand with the needle that she was trying to stop. Her mumbling about the 'stranger in the sands' makes no sense to him. She's rocking now, with her eyes closed, as she tried to fight off the chemical command to relax and sleep. Simon is too focused on her to notice the glare from the man behind her. Too wrapped up in his own dislike of the situation to see that there is a reason for his sister's seemingly incoherent mumbling. He hates this. It is not his sister, this blind panic that drives this strange girl in his sister's body.

Slowly the rocking stops as River loses her battle with the drug in her system. Her head lolls back on the chest behind her. The stillness of her form and the contrast of the forest green of the sweater with her dark drying hair drew Simon's eyes upward. River is still. Quiet. Trusting of this stranger. Accepting of his touch, seeking it even. 'Who are you?' he wonders. River has never been overly tactile with anyone other than himself, not even their parents. Most strangers made her skittish and shy. And that was before this all happened. The others that assisted him in breaking her out of her prison had learned to stay away from her and out of her reach if they wanted their skin intact. So his sister's behavior now was odd in more ways than one.

The Doctor found that he really couldn't move because he had a nude body slumped back against him. He couldn't, shouldn't, look down either. He placed his hands on the thin shoulders of the teen-aged girl whose rump was settled against his leg as she unconsciously tried to minimize contact with the hot metal against her skin. Her entire back was settled against his chest and her head rested comfortably against the crook of his neck. His touch was greeted with a mental whisper like rain pattering on a spring day. This couldn't last. If he didn't think about it overly much he would be able to scoop her up and retrieve the discarded blanket to wrap her in. Wait a minute? Where did the previous user of that blanket go?

Simon found the strange man looking at him with an unreadable expression over the slumped head of his sister. She's balanced herself so that only the balls of her feet are actually touching metal, and it's clear that the other fellow can't really move without dumping her. Guilt filled his soul. It's all the young man can feel about what has happened. It's possible that the expression he's getting is one of anger or annoyance, but Simon can't really tell. He looks away, not down, because River is fairly exposed and he doesn't want to appear like he's staring at her, but away, focused on the burnt and crumpled wall.

Then the Doctor opened his mouth and said, "Oh, drat." Simon raised his eyes back to those uncanny others, "Looks like your patient is out wandering on his own," the Doctor continued. Simon spun around to find the space blanket discarded and the burn victim gone. Quite in spite of himself, the Tam scion lets off a string of choice Chinese. It's ear blistering and quite vulgar. And so very unlike the cultured man to let go like that. "I understood that, you do realize?" There's amusement in the all too human voice behind him; Simon closes his eyes.