Notes: I have Sarah Jane describe Three's regeneration as having a golden glow, and though that golden glow was never actually shown onscreen, the novelization of "Planet of the Spiders" describes the golden glow, so it can be assumed that there was always meant to be a golden glow during regeneration, but the special effects weren't able to properly show it until New Who.

Carl was still contemplating on what to do when he suddenly had the idea to throw himself on the floor just behind the door, pretending to be unconscious. Maybe, just maybe, anyone who took the time to look behind the door would see him lying there and assume that he was already comatose.

It seemed to work; they took no notice of him, and the one who claimed to be Sutekh was snarling as he strode past Carl.

"That an Osirian should flee on account of the incompetence of human servants!" he hissed. "They shall all pay for this humiliation once they have exhausted all use!"

The reporter registered the word Osirian—that word had shown up in Sarah Jane Smith's article that he had read earlier that day.

The running feet seemed to have stopped by now; Carl was just about to get up from his hiding place when the other door across from his door moved slightly—someone had been hiding behind it.

Carl now retreated fully behind his door.

"It was them!" a voice with a Scottish accent exclaimed over the alarm. "The coven!"

"I don't think they're witches," another voice replied. "That one in charge mentioned the Osirians—he must be being used as a vessel by one of them, whoever or whatever they are. There's some research to be done, Jamie."

"Aye, let's get oot of here."

"Yes. …I do wonder what became of that fellow who surprised us in the Egyptian exhibit though…"

The two took a few steps, but Carl heard them stop as more voices approached from down the corridor.

"I think it's the police!" Jamie exclaimed. "We can tell them aboot that poor chappie who got comatose!"

"Jamie, we're not supposed to be here!" the other person exclaimed. "Come with me; we shall make our exit over here with the Old Girl."

They headed back inside the Hall of Gems—but Carl knew there was no exit there. Baffled, Carl now came out of hiding, trying to see if maybe he could ally himself with these vigilantes—or whoever they were—and inform them that they won't get out that way.

As he reentered the Hall of Gems, Carl was aware of a strange, wheezing sound that he had never heard before—

Vwoorp-vwoorp-vwoorp.

He had no idea what that sound was; nor did he have the time to ponder over it—within moments, he was surrounded by Rausch's men. Rausch himself showed up, giving a rather stony glare at Carl, looking at the comatose janitor, and back to Carl again.

The reporter let out a nervous chuckle.

"You know, you'll never believe what I saw here just five minutes ago…" he began, but he was cut off as his arms were forced behind his back and handcuffs were placed on his wrists. "…Yeah, you'll never believe it." He gave a defeated sigh as he watched Rausch's men look over the janitor.

Idly, he wondered who the other two people were—and how they had managed to get away without being caught. More than that, he wondered what Tony would say when he called to ask him to bail him out.

"Nothing!" the Doctor sighed, placing his 500-Year-Diary aside. "Absolutely nothing in here about the Osirians! You'd have thought that if there was a race of creatures with stronger telepathic abilities than us, that we Gallifreyans would have mentioned something about them—at least to know where we stand!"

"Aye, but yer people like t' keep t' themselves and pretend that nothing ootside of yer planet is worth getting involved in," Jamie pointed out.

"…Yes, I suppose that's true…" the Doctor said. "Hmm, I wonder if the other fellow who surprised us has any idea on what the Osirians are."

"We ne'er did find oot who that was," Jamie said. "Or if he got away from the coven and the Osirian."

"Yes, and I do feel guilty about that," the Doctor admitted. "We should have made sure he was alright—pity we had to run. And now that I think about it, our friend in the Egyptian exhibit must have been Carl Kolchak! We already saw him when we discovered the coma patient this morning; he must have been trying to find out about the Osirian, as well—and that's how we all ended up at the Egyptian exhibit! …Of course, they were coming from the Hall of Gems instead…"

"Och, it's a good thing he di'n know it was ye," Jamie said. "Remember what I said aboot him possibly blaming ye fer all of this!"

"Be that as it may, Jamie, I think we shall have to contact him," the Doctor said, after mulling this over. "I don't know what the Osirians are capable of, but perhaps he has figured out something—we must find out!"

Jamie folded his arm and shook his head.

"It's too much of a risk—what if he finds oot who ye are!?"

"It cannot be helped, Jamie—we need assistance with this problem!" the Doctor insisted. "We need all the help we can get!"

"Well, if we have t' get help from this Carl Kolchak chappie, then maybe I should just meet him alone," the piper insisted.

The Doctor looked surprised at this, and then mulled it over.

"I suppose if you're careful to get all the details from him, it could work," he mused. "I could give you a list of questions to ask him in advance."

"Aye, that could work!" Jamie said, nodding. "Let's go with that, then."

"There is just one little issue…" the Doctor said, looking at the Scot with some amount of amusement.

"What's that?"

The Doctor indicated Jamie's kilt.

"How are you going to explain to Mr. Kolchak about that authentic 18th-century tartan you're wearing?"

Jamie looked down, staring at his kilt.

"I'll think of something," he decided.

"I'm certain you shall," the Doctor mused. "Now, it's nearly midnight, and I know that you humans need a good night's sleep if you're going to have your wits about you tomorrow. Off to bed with you, then."

"Aye, goodnight, Doctor," Jamie said, stifling a yawn as he headed down the corridor.

"And mind that you brush your teeth first!" the Doctor called after him. He smirked at the annoyed mutter that followed. "I heard that!"

"I do not want to hear it!" Tony insisted for the umpteenth time as he drove Carl back to the INS office.

"But, Tony, I'm telling you—there's a guy being controlled by Sutekh, and he's putting people into comas!"

"Carl…!" Tony began, but he shook his head and bit back whatever diatribe he had been planning. "Doesn't it get through that thick head of yours as to how close you came last night to getting into a coma yourself!?"

"So you believe me?" Carl asked.

"I believe that you're going to get yourself killed if you keep up with this!" Tony retorted. "If Rausch hadn't turned up when he did, you could've been…" He didn't finish the thought.

"With Rausch finding me, I just traded one problem for another," Carl grumbled, rubbing his still-sore wrists.

"You're just lucky that your buddy at the museum isn't pressing charges," Tony said. "You're also lucky that you were cleared of attacking that janitor. And you're also insanely lucky that getting arrested was the worst thing that happened to you last night! Do you understand me, Carl!?"

"Sure, sure…"

"No, you don't!" Tony fumed, driving into his parking space and throwing the car into park. "You're just going to get right back on this story the moment you get back upstairs, aren't you!?"

"Well…" Carl said, with a shrug. "It if makes you feel any better, I'm just going to make one innocent phone call. …Ah, you don't mind if it's to England?"

"England!" Tony exclaimed in disbelief. "Why the heck do you need to make a call to England!? We can't afford that!"

"…Okay, I'll go to my standby plan—the wonders of Skype," Carl said, without missing a beat. "I'll let you know how it goes."

Ignoring Tony's further protests, Carl headed to his desk, pulling up the contact information he had been looking at the previous day about Sarah Jane Smith. It took a bit of queries via email to get her to open up to the idea of Skyping, but the moment he mentioned Sutekh, she had immediately responded with her Skype ID. And they had gotten straight to business.

"You are certain that it was Sutekh who was mentioned?" the brown-haired woman queried.

"Sutekh—just like in that article you wrote, and he called himself an Osirian," Carl responded. "You mentioned something about someone named 'the Doctor' being able to stop him."

"I think the Doctor may be the only one who can stop him if he's truly back," Sarah Jane sighed, looking concerned. "But even then, I'm not certain—it took so much of his mental strength and trickery. Sutekh will be expecting it—and may strike him down the moment he gets a chance to."

"Look, I've got a lot of questions for you here," Carl said. "You said that this Sutekh is an alien. How the heck are we supposed to stop him?"

"There is nothing that we, as humans, can do to stop a creature with that much mental power," Sarah Jane insisted. "If you attempted to face him, he would take over your mind—or have his puppets kill you on the spot! I saw it happen with my own eyes!"

"…In 1911?" Carl asked, arching an eyebrow.

"As odd as it sounds, yes," she said, looking completely serious. "It's all because of the Doctor."

"You mention this Doctor guy a lot," Carl said. "What makes him so special that he can go toe to toe with this alien?"

"Because he's an alien, too," Sarah Jane replied. "He's a Time Lord from the planet Gallifrey—he can travel anywhere in time and space, and I traveled with him for a while. It's how we ended up in 1911 and got mixed up in that affair."

Carl stared at his computer screen, blankly.

"You don't believe me?" she asked.

"Oh, I believe you," Carl said. "I've got to—Sutekh is running around now; if he's real, then the Doctor's gotta be real, too. And you say that he's the only one who can stand a chance against Sutekh?"

"He told me that the Osirians are stronger than his people," Sarah Jane recalled. "But based on what you told me, Sutekh hasn't regained all of his power just yet—in this weakened state, the Doctor might be able to hold his own against him. At any rate, he is our only hope; Sutekh will seek to destroy everything once he regains his full power!"

Carl swore, running a hand through his hair.

"So, call this Doctor up!" he exclaimed. "Tell him that Sutekh is running amok in Chicago and that we need his help!"

"…It's not that simple," Sarah Jane said, quietly. "There's no way of knowing where—or when—the Doctor is at any given moment."

"You don't know?"

"There's so much about him that I don't know," she said. "I don't even know his name—he often calls himself John Smith. He can be incredible elusive. Trying to find him in the space-time continuum is…"

"…Like trying to find a needle in an infinite haystack," Carl finished. "Great. Just great."

"One thing that I do know, though," Sarah Jane said. "His ship, the TARDIS… She does a good job of getting him where he needs to go. I would think—I would hope—that he will find his way to Chicago on time."

"How will I know him when I see him?" Carl asked. "What does he look like?"

Sarah Jane hesitated.

"…You don't know!?" Carl exclaimed. "You traveled with the guy and you don't know what he looks like!? What, does he wear a mask or a hooded cape or—"

"He changes his appearance," Sarah Jane cut in. "His people—when they die, they get a new body; it's called 'regeneration.' I saw him do it—he'd died, right in front of me, looking like a tall, white-haired man. And then there was this golden glow all around him, and, before my eyes, he changed into curly-haired man with the widest eyes you'd ever seen. Some time later, I saw some of his other selves—a frail old man, a shabbily-dressed short man, a tall cricketer… A few years ago, I'd seen him again, in a different body—a scrawny young man. And the last time I saw him, he'd looked even younger, with a rather pronounced chin. There's no telling what he looks like now!"

"…Did you say a shabbily-dressed short man?" Carl asked.

"Yes. Have you seen someone like that?" Sarah Jane asked. "Wearing a stringy bow tie?"

"…That description does sound familiar," Carl mused. "I'm sure I've seen someone like that yesterday."

"Well, the good news is that if you did see him, then the Doctor is there," she said. "The bad news is that the version of the Doctor that's there hasn't met Sutekh yet; he has no idea of the danger in store. You simply must find him and warn him—and see what he can do about the problem!"

"All I can do is try," Carl said. "Any other clues you can give me?"

"Be on the lookout for the TARDIS," she said. "It's a blue wooden box—it looks like an old English police box."

"I know I saw that yesterday!" Carl exclaimed. "I nearly crashed into that thing when it appeared out of nowhere in an alley!"

"Then it is him!" Sarah Jane exclaimed. "I'm not sure where in his timeline he is, so he may or may not remember me, but you can mention me to him if you see him—it might help him understand that you mean to aid him."

"Great; thanks," Carl said. "Now I just hope I find him in time to give him the information he needs to know."

"Let me know how things are going," Sarah Jane insisted. "I might be able to fill him in on some details that he doesn't know yet."

"Right; I'll let you know," Carl said. "Thanks."

"Don't thank me until we're certain that Sutekh is no longer a threat," Sarah Jane replied, sagely. "Good luck."

With that, she ended the call. Carl was already on his feet, pausing as he noticed Tony watching from the doorway of his office.

"…You heard, huh?" Carl asked. "How much did you hear?"

"Something about an alien in a bow tie and Sutekh being too dangerous for you to handle," Tony replied. "I hope that convinced you to stay out of it!"

"Tony, I have to find the Doctor so that he can stop Sutekh," Carl replied. "After that, I'll stay out of it. …Well, maybe I'll stick around and watch—maybe get a few pictures for publication—"

"Carl, for crying out loud, can't you just—"

He was cut off by Carl's phone ringing.

"Hold that thought, Tony—this could be important!" he said, taking the call. "Kolchak here."

"Ah, hello, Mr. Kolchak?" a voice asked.

Carl froze; he recognized the voice—it was the same voice he had heard in the museum the previous night, when he had been startled by the person in the Egyptian exhibition, and then later when the voice had been discussing with that Scottish voice about what to do about the Osirians.

"…Who is this?" Carl asked.

"Ah, yes; we've never met," the voice said. "But I feel as though we're working towards the same goal. I'm Doctor John Smith."

Carl could only stare blankly ahead; it seemed that, through some extraordinary coincidence, he had found the alien Doctor that Sarah Jane had told him to find.