"You don't have to be so careful with him, it's okay if you bump his head a little."

"But this is so inconvenient. I don't even want to touch him, he disgusts me so."

"Well as humans say, 'grin and bear it.'"

"Just because you and your associates have perfected the aesthetic part of the evolution sequence doesn't mean you are smarter."

"Wasn't me that chose this, it was Him."

The Doctor snapped his eyes open, his hearing oddly muffled. He looked painfully and slowly left and right, trying gather his muddled thoughts and find out where he was. Fluorescent lighting beamed down on him, seeming to split open his already aching head. There was a stench all around him, a smell he could not get out of his nose. There were hands on him, carrying him down the hall. To his right was Donna and Harriet Jones, both tight lipped and solemn, neither noticing that he was awake. More people were around him, carrying him roughly and without much care for any bodily injuries that he may suffer from having his head bumped against the walls of the narrow passageway. He tried to move his arms and legs but found that they were tightly bound.

"What do expect me to do, fly away?" he observed, looking down at his bound appendages.

The beings carrying him made no answer or reacted to his words. And so he continued.

"You human-Daleks, you are so out of character for a Dalek. You have emotion in your voice, you bicker and argue amongst yourselves. You're getting a little bit out of touch eh?"

They came to a plexiglass door with iron reinforcements. The Doctor was thrown inside roughly, Donna shoved into the containment area behind him. Harriet Jones started to follow, but one of the lesser human-looking Daleks shot out an arm, blocking her from entering.

"Doctor," he addressed, "You and your…companion will be kept in the observation chamber for twenty-four hours. After that you will be taken up for the final Experiment."

"The what?" asked the Doctor, sitting on the ground and rubbing the lump that had formed on his forehead.

"You will know." With that they were left alone, Harriet Jones being escorted away.

Donna sat cross-legged by the Doctor. He was looking down now, his hands gripping his hair. She tentatively laid a hand on his arm, slightly alarmed as he switched from a determined, witty Doctor to a now exhausted and almost surrendering kind of Doctor.

"Are you okay?" she asked quietly, regretting even uttering the question. Of course he was not "okay". He looked worn down and beaten, even worse than when Jenny had died.

He turned to her, his eyes watery. "They are back. Every single time they come back, always killing. They've taken away everything, separated me from all that I care about, everything I love. They're a pest that I cannot get rid of. I never told you this did I? I killed them, millions of them when they invaded Gallifrey to destroy everything that wasn't like them in the universe. And in destroying them, I in turn had to sacrifice the last strains of my people." The tears were falling down his face now; he no longer restrained them. "I performed a sacrifice that large to save the rest of the universe, and it was in vain. It looks like that we have no choice but to sit here."

"What about that sonic screwdriver eh?"

He shook his head. "The doorways are sealed on every one of these chambers. I could get the protective glass on the right and left sides to disappear, but what use would that be? Make ourselves a bigger cage is all that would do. No, for once I have no tricks up my sleeve to get us out of here." He looked at her solemnly, holding out his hand and covering Donna's. "I'm sorry," he whispered as they fell into silence, the hum of distant machines their only company.

After a while the Doctor stood, squinting outside their cell. "Looks like he was right about this being an observation-slash-quarantine area." He raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Look over there!" he exclaimed, pointing to a cage. "If I'm not mistaken that is a young member of the Slitheen family. Blimey, I didn't even have that many relatives. And over there looks like an Ood. In that cell way on the end are two Ithorians, and also a Rodian." His face became instantly clouded and cold. "It's like a zoo. Look at the plaques in front of their cells. My God, this is Torchwood for you."

"We're on exhibit," Donna stated with disgust.

He shook his head once more. "No, I think they just needed somewhere to observe and hold us for the time being. This was the most secure place they could put us, and they were spot on in constructing it. Not even a Time Lord can escape."

"But they didn't know the Doctor."

He smiled, sitting down and leaning back against the wall, shutting his eyes and lifting a hand to his temple, massaging the painful lump. They fell into silence again, muffled alien speech coming to Donna's ears. The Doctor had mentioned something about the TARDIS not being able to translate on this parallel world, so that was why she didn't understand the low rumble of the Ithy-thingy's speech or the high pitched Roady-things speech as well. She sat down, closing her eyes and trying to block the medley of noises from her ears as she fell into an exhausted slumber.

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Donna jumped awake at the sound of the door slamming. She sat up and turned to look around. The Doctor was still asleep, amazingly. He normally jumped up at the tiniest sound, ready to go. But this time he lay there, breathing the steady inhales and exhales of deep sleep. Ah well, she thought, he needs it anyway, hasn't slept in five days. Her thoughts were interrupted by a small whimpering that stopped her heart. Heavy footsteps increased as they neared, a pair of steady drums. As they got closer, she could hear a small child whimpering for his mother. It broke her heart to hear such a small being's desperate cries. She turned to her right and saw two of the human-Daleks there, one opening the door and the other hanging on to a small boy with a mop of brown hair. She gasped as he roughly threw the toddler in there, shutting the door and turning out of sight. The little boy began to cry as he hit the floor with a hard thump, curling on his side into a ball.

"Oh my God," she whispered, running to the side of her cell. She could see the boy through the clear plexi-glass that separated each containment area.. "Doctor!" she called out turning around. But his eyes had already snapped open and he was walking briskly to her side, crouching and looking at the boy.

"What have they done to them, how could they?" Donna breathed.

"Daleks don't care if it's a child, they handle everything the same."

"Doctor, you said that the barriers between the cells weren't as secure as the doors. Do you think you can…"

"It's worth a try," he said, taking out his glasses and placing them on the bridge of his nose. He took out his sonic screwdriver and began to work, his gaze focused and he pressed the tip against the plexi-glass. After a few moments she saw it begin to glow with heat, and then a hole began to burn, expanding outward until it was at least two meters in diameter. The boy was looking up, his eyes wide with fascination and terror as he backed into the corner of his cell. Soon the only things blocking Donna and the Doctor's cell and the boy's containment area were the reinforcing bars. They were wide enough so that the child's small body could fit through. Donna reached out between the bars.

"Come on, it's all right," she said, beckoning him forward. He shook his head, trembling with fear. Donna frowned. "I promise we won't hurt you. As soon as we can get out of here we'll help you find your Mum." The boy hesitantly stood and walked slowly to the border between their two cells. Donna helped him through to their side. The little boy sagged against her, starting to cry again. Donna stroked the back of his head, her eyes searching his little form. There were bruises and scrapes all over his body, a black eye already starting to form.

"They beat him," she gasped, disgusted, "They hit a three year old boy."

"Probably they could not stand his crying," he observed, "it's just an annoying noise to the Daleks. No feelings, no anything. See if you can get him to lay down straight so I can scan him for internal damage."

"Keep still," Donna told the boy as she laid him down. Still frightened and looking like he was in no mood to protest, the toddler froze. The Doctor shined his sonic screwdriver in scanning mode over the boy's forehead, then moved down the throat and to his arms and shoulders. Seeing that there were no broken bones or strained tendons and ligaments, he then scanned the chest area, making sure the lungs and heart were normal.

Donna saw him pause for a moment, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion. He changed the settings on the sonic device again and scanned the chest.

"There's nothing wrong is there?" asked Donna breathlessly, praying that they boy was healthy except for the bruises and external harm he had suffered.

"No no, nothing's wrong it's just…" he faded off, taking his stethoscope out of what Donna liked to call his "inter-dimensional pockets" and pressed it to both sides of the boy's chest.

"Is he breathing okay?"

"Yeah," he paused, then looked up, removing the stethoscope from his ears.

"What's your name?" the Doctor asked.

"John," the young boy replied simply, reaching up to grab the stethoscope. The Doctor let him have it and watched him as the boy turned the medical instrument over in his hands.

"What's wrong?" asked Donna again, confused.

The Doctor was silent before looking at her, his expression serious. "He has two hearts."

Donna gasped, a hand flying to her mouth. "Then that means he's—"

"I doubt it," the Doctor interrupted. "There are quite a few alien races with a binary vascular system."

"So he's not…"

"I don't know," said the Doctor. He studied the boy, who was still playing with his stethoscope. Acting on impulse, the Doctor reached out and placed his fingers on either side of John's head, barely touching the temples. The boy looked back at him with incredible calm and focus in his brown eyes. The instant the Doctor's fingers touched the boy's skin, he felt an electricity jump between them. His mind linked with John's, and they connected. The Doctor's memories were brought up front as the boy became wrapped up within his mind. Many things he had wanted to forget were brought forward into his sight again, but that was the price of being a Time Lord; all suffering was felt as one. He saw many things, from Gallifrey dissolving in a delta ray, to an image of a former self attaching a piece of celery to his lapel, to reaching out and grabbing Rose's hand.

Rose…

The boy lingered for a moment on this image—too long for the Doctor to bear. He sat back, stopping his touch on John's forehead. Donna was studying the both of them, worry etched on her face. The Doctor found himself breathing hard, sweat forming on his brow. A single tear formed on the corner of his eye and spilled over, staining his cheek.

"Is he, then?" she asked.

He nodded. "But, it's impossible…he's only a little less than three years of age. Gallifrey was destroyed way beyond his years…" He paused, running a hand through his hair. He then startled Donna greatly by jumping up, giving an exclamation in a tongue she did not understand. "If he exists, then that means he has parents, one of whom must be a Time Lord! They survived!"

He then turned to the little boy, softly placing a hand on John's forehead again. "Who are your mother and father?"

"Mama is Mama."

"Do what?"

"My mummy is Mama," the boy replied in a tone that suggested that the Doctor should know this; it was the simplest thing in the world. Of course his mother went by Mama…

"What about Daddy eh?" asked the Doctor.

John shook his head. "Daddy's not here now. Uncle Icky."

"Ah…" said the Doctor trailing off. He then sat down in front of the little toddler, placing his fingertips on the temples again. "Show me."

The boy looked at him quizzically, confused. The Doctor knew it would be difficult for a Gallifreyan so young to project an image from memory, but he hoped. Unfortunately, John only reflected the images he had found in the Doctor's mind previously—just as he expected him to do. Again, the memory of the Doctor grabbing Rose's hand and looking into her eyes that first time in the shop basement was the last that appeared; both minds lingered on it. He withdrew, shaking his head and confused.

The Doctor looked up at Donna. She could see the frustration in his eyes—from a man who had just gotten his hopes up and then had it all crash down around him in less than two minutes. She laid a comforting hand on his arm.

"We'll find out soon enough, but first," she nodded her head toward John, "Junior there is getting tired." She yawned. "And so am I. Seeing as there is no way out, or at least you won't think of one for a good bit, let's stop and rest, though a Time Lord like you probably never rests."

The Doctor's eyes flickered to the little boy. By that time he was curled on his side, eyes closed and his thumb inside his mouth. He shivered slightly from the steady cold, sterilizing draft of air that constantly came through the ventilation grooves in each cell. As he gazed at the young…Time Lord, the Doctor felt something reawaken deep within him once again; just like the moment he realized that Jenny was indeed from him. Was it his paternal instinct? The Doctor did not like to call it that, for he did not want it to appear like his hearts had gone soft. He glanced over and saw that Donna was already placing her jacket on the ground and situating herself, grumbling random words such as "zoo," "cot," and "cocker spaniel." She was soon enough lying down, her eyes closed. The Doctor's eyes drifted to the boy once again, and his expression soon faded to one of concern. John was still trembling with cold.

A Time Lord's internal body temperature was extremely low compared to a human's; somewhere around 15–16 degrees Celsius. But when exposed at a young age to an extreme variation of temperatures it took a long time for one to recover and get used to the temperature around them.

The Doctor shrugged off his trench coat. Carefully so as not to disturb the sleeping child, he lifted him up and placed his coat beneath him. He put John back down and wrapped the extra clothing around him to keep him warm. The Doctor then laid down himself, hands clasped behind his head as his mind began churning again, pondering over ways to get out of there.

Just before his mind starting roaming over the Daleks and the odd craving he had for bananas, he felt a movement at his side. He glanced down and saw John was curled up to his side, his face buried in the Doctor's shirt. The Doctor just looked at him, confused for a moment and then, hesitantly, he brought his arm down and across the boy, his hand resting on the toddler's mop of brown hair. He smiled, for only a moment.

"Saw that ya big softy," Donna mumbled from across the cell. The Doctor knew she was most likely smirking. But he did not care

Perhaps, just for that night, he could sleep and not worry. And so, for the first time in five days, the Doctor fell into a deep sleep on the floor of a jail cell, his company a hot-headed ginger and a child Time Lord. Needless to say that despite the peril they would face in twenty-two hours, the Doctor was content for the time being.

Sorry for the wait, it's been busy. By the way, I had to insert some Star Wars in there, for I am a raving fan –shify eyes- you don't know that…

The Star Wars detail was the Ithorian and Rodian race, both from the Star Wars galaxy, just a little FYI. Good Lord I'm a sci-fi geek...

Anyway, as always, thanks for the many reviews, it makes me overjoyed to see the response this story is getting. Again, thank you.