WARNING for torture (nothing too bad), assault, character death, angst and general nastiness.

A/N: I'd like to apologise in advance of this chapter. I'm really, really sorry. Really. In other news, I've finished drafting out the remaining chapters, so the story finally has an end. Yay! Hope you like :D

The Doctor pushed Damien back against the wall and thrust a hand over his mouth when it looked like the younger man might cry out in horror. 'Stay here,' he said.

Damien shook his head, pushing away the Doctor's hold with surprising force. 'No way,' he retorted, his gaze set hard and his stance making it perfectly clear that he would not hesitate to do serious damage to the people who had been hurting the woman he loved. The Doctor had to admit that he definitely approved. He was feeling something pretty similar himself.

There was a sharp, pain-filled gasp from behind the door and both men immediately snapped into action, as though that was the one final wake up call they needed to convince them to move. 'Oscar!' the Doctor cried out at the same time as Damien screamed Airlia's name so loudly it echoed in the narrow corridor. They burst into the room, the door swinging angrily on its hinges and slamming back into the glossy wall behind it.

All sound stopped, all movement ceased and even time seemed to stand still momentarily as they took in the sight in front of them. Airlia was sprawled on the floor, blood staining her clothes so that she appeared to be dressed completely in red. Oscar and Hugo stood over her, both of them positioned less than a foot away from her prone body and yet both of them seemed completely detached as though they had nothing at all invested in the current situation. They were both breathing hard as Damien and the Doctor came to stand just in side the doorway, hatred visible in all of the men's eyes.

'Airlia,' Damien breathed. He lurched forward and dropped to his knees next to Airlia, forcing both Oscar and Hugo to take a step back and stare at the man in surprise as though they were in complete shock, as though all of the blood and the almost-dead woman on the floor was nothing to do with them whatsoever. Damien gathered his lover up in his arms, holding her head to his chest as his other hand pressed against a ragged wound in her stomach, trying to stop the flow of blood. The Doctor couldn't bring himself to tell the man that there was no point; the blood was already slowing, almost to the point of stopping completely. There was not enough time to fix her; Airlia was almost dead.

The Doctor stepped forwards, his hands clenching into fists as he fought everything within him that was telling him to take Oscar and Hugo, slam them up against the wall and choke them until the last breath left their bodies. He usually scared himself at times like this, but right now he didn't particularly care. 'You killed her,' he snarled.

Oscar smiled, his expression pragmatic and not at all apologetic. 'She's not dead yet,' he replied.

'We'll save you,' Damien whispered to Airlia. And then, louder, 'We will save her.'

Everyone else ignored him as the Doctor surveyed the small room and Oscar and Hugo watched him carefully, as though they were naughty school children about to be reprimanded by the headmaster. Which, in effect, they were. 'You tortured her,' the Doctor said quietly, the even measure of his tone belying the guilt and anger and anguish he could feel coursing through his veins.

Oscar nodded curtly. 'That's right,' he said. It was clear that he was the leader here.

'Why?' He didn't really need to ask that- he already had a pretty good idea as to why- but the Doctor was stalling for time until he could get his temper under control.

'For information. She's the enemy'

'And did you get any information?'

Oscar stayed silent. Hugo shuffled nervously next to him before clearing his throat. 'Not of any use,' he muttered. All of a sudden it was almost impossible to imagine these two men as the leaders of a great revolution, and even harder to imagine them capable of torture. Perhaps it spoke well for the possibility of redemption, the Doctor thought. The fact that they were currently being so contrite suggested that they still had some semblance of souls left, despite all the atrocities they had committed today as well as any others that had occurred in the past.

'You killed an innocent woman for no reason,' the Doctor said, anger causing his voice to crack slightly.

'She's still alive,' Oscar repeated. He nudged Damien in the back with his boot. 'She's all yours mate.' And now the hardness was back, the determination that had first convinced the Doctor that the Liberal Rights Alliance would do a good job of the revolution. He just hadn't anticipated that they might do too good a job. Oscar's eyes were like stone in the harsh low-level lighting of the room.

Both Oscar and Hugo stepped back further, as if surrendering their prize. The Doctor wished that he was in any other situation than this one. He wished that he had the TARDIS with him so that he might be able to find some way to save Airlia, and in the process, save himself. He knew it had been a mistake to admit to Damien that he had been the one to encourage the revolution, and he couldn't honestly say that he would blame the man if he decided to rip him limb from limb if Airlia died. Although, in all truth and honesty, it was more a case of when she would die, rather than if she would.

Damien looked up from the woman in his arms, bringing his gaze to meet the Doctor's. There was pain there, and so many tears that he couldn't quite let himself cry whilst Airlia was still breathing, and anger flashing around the edges. He'd worked it out. And, once his lover was dead, he was going to want revenge. The Doctor swallowed heavily and hoped that Rose would still like him if he regenerated again.

Rose pulled on the cuffs that bound her wrists high above her head- much too far above her for her to be able gain any kind of leverage. She shifted on the spot, trying to see if she could maybe pull herself upwards by kicking off the wall behind her. She almost screamed in frustration as the chains that held her provided no support in aiding any kind of defence tactic. The best she would be able to manage was a weak knee in the groin of either Ganjud or Maurice, and even that would be tricky. Her ankles were held in similar cuffs to those wrapped around her wrists, but the chains attached to them weren't long enough to lift her foot any higher than mid-calf level or to walk any more than a step in any direction.

She could hear Ganjud and Maurice arguing just outside of the room they had locked her in. Ganjud was adamantly telling the other man that they should take it easy on her, but Rose had decided not to appeal to him for help. She knew all too well that they might be playing "good cop, bad cop" with her, and she didn't want to seem weak by begging either of them to free her. She only hoped that she could get some answers out of them and find out exactly why they had her chained up in here as though she was guilty of some terrible crime before they killed her- if that's what their plan was. She had already deduced that whatever they were planning couldn't be good, but she knew that they must be scared of what she could do to them if they had taken the trouble to drag her off down a secret passageway beneath Ganjud's bar and put her out of harms way. Things were starting to fall into place now, but she didn't like what she was learning. She wished that the Doctor would hurry up and come for her, and hopefully kick up a right stink when he saw her manacled to the wall. She hoped that he hadn't run into trouble trying to free Airlia.

Ganjud and Maurice stormed back into the room, Ganjud going over to stand in a corner and stare sullenly at the floor, and Maurice slamming the metal door loudly before going over to stand directly in front of Rose. 'Tell me everything,' he said to her, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

She studied him carefully, keeping her mouth firmly shut and biting down lightly on her tongue so she wasn't tempted to say anything. Although, she wasn't really sure what he wanted her to tell him. She had no idea why they were doing this to her. She settled for relaxing as much as she possibly could and staring evenly at Maurice.

'I said, tell me everything,' he repeated, taking a step towards her so that he stood so close she could smell the smoke and booze on his breath as he breathed into her face.

Rose settled her head back against the wall and looked at him through narrowed eyes, hoping she appeared a lot more calm and casual than she felt. She could feel her heart racing inside her ribcage. 'Why don't you answer some of my questions?' she replied.

He smiled and rocked backwards slightly as his arms folded across his chest. 'Okay then,' he said. 'I'm sure we can oblige you that much. What do you want to know?'

She thought carefully for a moment, trying to decide what would be the best way to attempt to bluff her way out of this situation. 'Who are you two?' she asked, her gaze flicking between the men. 'You both work for the government or something?'

'Not exactly,' Maurice told her, his voice suggesting that they were having a perfectly normal, rational conversation rather than a tense stand-off. They may as well have been sharing a drink in the bar. 'I work for the regime, and Ganjud works for me.'

Ganjud hissed in a breath as his identity was given away, and Rose suspected that there might be some sort of blackmail going on between the two men. Perhaps they weren't as good friends as they'd tried to make out they were.

'Did you not wonder how the bar stays open?' Maurice continued. 'It's only because of the government that Ganjud's business stays running.'

'You bought his support,' Rose deduced.

Maurice nodded. 'That's right. In return for his loyalty and aide in certain… ventures, such as this one, the regime funds his business and does his accounts for free.' He turned to look at the other man. 'Although I think that perhaps the last few days has rather stretched his loyalties somewhat. Not that there is any alternative, mind. He has no other option.'

Rose watched as Ganjud stiffened, his gaze fixed on a point somewhere above Maurice's head. It was clear that he wasn't the most willing participant in this little organisation, but that didn't mean she blamed him any less. Sure, she felt sorry for him getting dragged into everything the way he had. He'd probably been close to bankruptcy and threatened with torture or death if he didn't agree to help the government in return for their financial aide. But she still didn't think that excused him completely. He wasn't exactly rushing to help her now, was he? She wondered if it would be different if it was his fiancée attached to the wall with chains. And, come to think of it, these cuffs were really starting to hurt… She suddenly realised that Maurice was speaking to her again.

'Did you have any more questions?' he asked.

She thought about it. There were questions that she could think of but didn't want to ask because she wasn't sure that she'd like the answers. "What are you going to do to me?" didn't seem like it would invite any kind of positive response from her point of view. After another moments pause, she asked, 'Are you married?'

Maurice was momentarily taken aback, and she could see Ganjud looking at her and shaking his head. You shouldn't have asked that was written across his face. Something inside her dropped.

Almost as soon as his façade had dropped, Maurice's armour was back and fully intact. 'I was married,' he said. 'But then my wife was killed by a militant protest group because of my position in the government. And that's when I went underground and started doing what I'm doing now.' He paused. 'I probably shouldn't be telling you this.' He smiled cruelly. 'But I don't suppose it matters now.'

The expression on his face told her that he didn't expect her to live to tell anyone the story of his past. 'Did it hurt you when she died?' she said quietly.

He looked at her like she was stupid, and Ganjud watched her with a sad resignation in his eyes. She could tell from his stance that he thought she had just hanged herself- literally and metaphorically. He slumped back against the wall. Maurice stepped forward once more, only inches of air separating him from Rose now. 'Of course it did,' he told her, his voice suddenly raw and honest.

'So why do you do this?' She continued before she lost her nerve, sucking in a deep breath. 'Why do you hurt people when you know it hurts other people when they die?'

He bought his head close to hers, curving round to whisper in her ear. She was only just able to repress the disgusted shiver that wanted to break free with the feel of his hot breath washing over her skin. 'That is exactly the reason I do it,' he said. 'People hurt me, and the things that mattered to me, and so now I hurt people and the things that matter to them. It's revenge; payback.' He pulled back and appraised her again. 'So nothing personal, sweetheart.' He laughed. 'Well, not really. I don't care who you are as long as you're guilty. And I know for a fact that you are definitely guilty.'

'No, I'm not,' she told him adamantly, fully aware that the tables had turned and her time for casual questioning was over. The chains on her wrists rattled loudly in the quiet of the room as she shifted uncomfortably on the spot. 'I'm not guilty.'

He shook his head at her. 'Yes,' he admonished her. 'Yes, you are guilty. You've just lost sight of your crimes, sweetheart.'

She smirked at him as his hand came up to rest by her head, his chest brushing sickeningly against hers. 'It sounds more like you're talking about yourself,' she said quietly.

The Doctor finally stepped further into the room, deciding to take his chances by kneeling down next to Damien. He carefully brushed Airlia's hair out of her eyes to find her gaze glassy and weak. There was only limited life left in her body now, but he could tell that she had put up a good fight before they broke her. He wished that they had gotten here sooner. And now, once again, someone was dying because of him. He told himself that he'd have time to grieve later, once this whole mess was sorted out and he was back in the safety of the TARDIS with Rose, the whole anonymous universe spread out before them.

Damien pushed his hand away from Airlia. 'Don't touch her,' he said, his voice surprisingly soft considering the force of the shove. He rested his hand on her hair and pressed a kiss to her forehead as Oscar and Hugo looked on from behind him. 'Shhh, sweetheart,' he whispered. 'We're going to get you out of here. It's all going to be okay.'

Oscar snorted quietly, clearing finding it absurd that this man could hope so much when it was so obvious that there was nothing to be done, not enough time to heal Airlia's wounds before they got the better of her. The Doctor sighed, hating his obligation to be the one to tell Damien that there was no longer any hope. 'We can't…' he started, trailing off with a scathing look at Oscar and Hugo, hating them for what they had done. Hating himself for encouraging them to do it. 'Damien, there's nothing we can do for her,' he said quietly as Airlia went limp in the other man's arms.

'You promised,' Damien said stonily. 'You promised me.'

The Doctor shook his head. 'I didn't know it was going to be this hard. I'm sorry.' He averted his gaze to the ground as the previously unshed tears spilled out of Damien's eyes in a silent river. He didn't mind admitting that he was too selfish to bring himself to watch the breaking of this man. He thought that it just might end up breaking him as well.

'You promised,' Damien repeated through his tears. Airlia moaned softly against him, her fingers flexing as though they were searching for a hand to hold. Damien slipped his fingers around hers without even looking; it was obviously a natural reflex to him, he knew when she needed something and he gave it to her without hesitation. He stared at the Doctor, his gaze hardening as the tears slowed slightly. 'You lied.'

He couldn't deny it. 'I'm sorry.'

Oscar shuffled forwards. 'How long as she got?' he asked, as though he was a concerned relative and not the man that was responsible for torturing this woman to death.

The Doctor swallowed. 'Not long,' he replied truthfully, knowing that lies would not get him anywhere now. 'A few minutes, maybe.'

Oscar and Hugo conversed between themselves for a few moments before nodding and breaking apart. 'Then,' Oscar said. 'We have to go and announce the news. All of the others will want to hear of this.'

'Hear of what?!' the Doctor bellowed, standing up suddenly. Anger flashed in his eyes and something dangerous entered his expression. 'You going to go and tell the Liberal Rights Alliance of how its leaders are torturers? Murderers?! Is that what you're going to tell them? Just walk out there and tell them that you just killed an innocent woman?'

'No,' Oscar replied. 'We're going to go out there and tell them that one of the enemy is dead. We are going to tell them that we're on the road to victory. That this battle is almost won.'

The Doctor launched himself forwards, intending to pummel both men to the ground but Hugo was faster and Oscar was stronger. One man grabbed him as he charged them head on and the other slammed a fist into his ribs, knocking him back to sprawl against the wall. He knew immediately that he'd have an awful bruise there when all was said and done, but he didn't care. He thought that he deserved it. He breathed in shakily, feeling the pain from having the breath knocked out of him by the vicious blow.

And then, before he could move to stop them, or even get his hand on the sonic screwdriver that had been sent spiralling off into a corner, Oscar and Hugo were on the way out of the door. 'Maybe this will convince the government to surrender,' Oscar said, continuing on his little tirade as though the past ten seconds had never happened. He paused just before he exited the room, turning to look down at Damien and Airlia on the ground. 'Sorry,' he murmured, and then he and Hugo disappeared out of sight.

Oscar and Hugo marched back to the entrance of the Alliance headquarters, neither saying anything to the other for fear of accusation and retribution. They had never done anything like this before.

They walked outside into the fading sunlight. The sounds of the revolution could be heard from just under a mile away, the sounds of bones snapping and people dying unmistakable in the otherwise stillness of the day. The two men stood for a moment and leaned against the wall, keeping their eyes open. It was better to be blinded by the sun than to be confronted with the visions of what they had done to a woman as soon as their eyes slipped closed.

A man sidled up to them. Both men instantly recognised him as George, although they both knew full well that wasn't his real name. He was a reliable informer for the Liberal Rights Alliance. They'd often joked that he was a government administrator by day, and the top of the most wanted list by night. The stupid government never had been able to figure out who was leaking their secrets and information. They never guessed that it would be a mid-ranked paper shuffler who, as far as the administration knew, never left his desk. 'I think you should know,' George said.

Oscar and Hugo looked at him curiously, knowing better than to interrupt him. George revealed his information in his own time, and he only ever gave them what he wanted to. Oscar had long suspected that he shared his secrets out between the different protest groups in the interests of building up a web of protection for himself if the shit ever hit the fan. Like today, for instance. George must be scared. And the fact that he was here with them suggested that he might want their help.

'I think you should know that the president has disappeared,' he blurted out. 'Nobody can find him. Not his family, not his office; nobody. He might be dead or he might be on the run. We don't know. So watch out, yeah? Keep on the look out.'

Oscar nodded as George fell silent; the familiar slump of his shoulders telling them that he had nothing more to give. 'Thanks,' he told the man before digging into his pocket and pulling out a key with the number "8" printed on it: safe house 8. 'Go there,' he told George. 'No one ever uses it. It's safe.' He sighed. 'You'll be safe.'

George nodded. 'Thanks. Knew I could count on you guys.' He disappeared as quickly as he had arrived.

Oscar and Hugo turned to each other. 'Bit of a problem,' Hugo remarked.

'Yeah.' Oscar nodded, then a slow smile spread across his face. 'Or,' he went on. 'We could really make our president's mysterious disappearance work for us. Pretend he's dead. No one needs to know the truth.'

Hugo grinned as he caught on. 'I like your style!'

The men grinned at each other before dashing off to rejoin their revolution.

Airlia's breathing was unstable, erratic. It was perfectly obvious that she wasn't going to last much longer. One minute, maybe two. Nothing more. The Doctor moved his fingers away from where they'd been resting against the pulse point in her neck, not wanting to feel the life ebb out of her any further. Damien too was starting to pull away. He bent and pressed a kiss to Airlia's blueing lips before lying her gently on the floor, smoothing a hand over her hair before standing up.

He looked down at the Doctor. 'I can't watch her die,' he whispered.

The Doctor nodded, fully understanding. He had never been able to watch people he cared about die, either. In fact, he'd made a rather strong stand on the subject with Rose not so long ago. Rose… He wanted to be with her, wanted to feel her in his arms, her heart beating against his, her life strong and her body moulding perfectly to his. He needed her. He stood and faced Damien, reaching out to touch the man's arm. 'Come on,' he said. 'We should leave.' And get back to Rose. He left that part unspoken.

And so they left the woman dying on the floor, something that they would both come to regret immensely over the coming hours and all the time left still to come to them. They walked away slowly, heading nowhere at first, although they drifted in the direction of the rose garden in the park of Valtallahan. The Doctor mistook the expression in Damien's eyes as sorrow, something he could fully comprehend, and so it was something of a shock to him when the other man's hand shot out and slammed into his ribs with a hard precision, exactly matching the blow he had received from Hugo only a few minutes before. He was on the floor in pain before they even reached the entrance to the rose garden.

Rose was having a hard time believing that the pain would ever end. Ganjud stood quietly in the corner, refusing to look at her or even to lift his gaze from the floor, whilst Maurice quite literally rubbed salt into a wound on her collarbone. Although, she wasn't sure that it technically counted as a wound. More like he had just rubbed at her skin with something that reminded her of sandpaper until her skin was raw, stopping just short of drawing blood. Somehow she thought that it would have hurt less if he had made her bleed. She still didn't understand what he was trying to achieve. She choked back the tears, refusing to cry as he questioned her and pressed down sharply on her tender flesh.

'Who sent you to Eustance?' Maurice asked for what had to be the hundredth time, each word punctuated by a pause.

'Nobody,' she said, biting down hard on her lip to stop herself from crying out as Maurice took the sandpaper and scratched away at her other collarbone.

He looked at her as though he was convinced she was lying. Which, she supposed, he thought that she was. 'Then why are you here?'

She sucked in a breath as he dropped the scratchy paper and dabbed salt onto the resulting raw patch of skin. 'I don't know,' she said. 'We just ended up here.' A stray tear escaped her eye as Maurice pressed down on both wounds at once, making her want to scream. She was rather proud that she managed to stay silent, although her eyes were now fixed on the door, just waiting for the Doctor to come. 'Honestly!' she insisted as he hurt her some more. 'We were on Earth, in the House of Mirrors at a carnival in 1959, and then we were here! We never planned it! It just… happened.' She slumped her head back against the wall as the pain subsided and Maurice backed off a couple of steps, before realising it probably wasn't the best idea to expose her flesh to him and lowering her chin once more.

Maurice frowned and glanced at Ganjud. 'You think she's gone crazy?' he murmured.

'No.' Ganjud fixed him with a look that spoke volumes, although he still showed no sign of moving to help either Maurice or Rose in their respective causes. 'I think you're crazy,' he told Maurice.

'I wouldn't oppose me, Ganjud,' the government man said as he turned on his friend. 'You know what happens to people who do that.'

'Yeah,' he replied as his gaze flicked to Rose hanging from her restraints. 'I'm looking at it.' It was clear he was not impressed, but was scared to speak out.

Maurice growled low in his throat and stepped towards Ganjud, one hand moving to grasp at something inside his jacket. 'You wouldn't be thinking of converting now, would you?' he asked, sickly sweet and yet oh-so-nasty. He nodded at the space on the wall next to Rose. 'Because we can always make room for you too.'

Ganjud laughed. 'Yeah, right.'

'Yes, actually.' Maurice nodded and pulled a gun out from inside his jacket. Rose's eyes widened at the sight of the weapon, which still bore a pretty good resemblance to the weapons she had seen on Earth in the early twenty-first century. 'Or I could shoot you.'

Ganjud was almost doubled up with laughter now, his eyes creasing up as he watched Maurice hold the gun trained on his chest. He clearly thought that the man was not serious, and Rose began to wonder if Ganjud had somewhat lost his mind. She was just about to speak out when Ganjud sobered up slightly and said, 'Yeah, go on then, shoot me.'

'Really.' Maurice looked sceptical, although he cocked the gun, ready to fire.

Ganjud nodded. 'Yeah. Go on. Prove yourself. Do it.' It was clear that he didn't think Maurice would do it.

Maurice shot him square in the chest. Ganjud cried out in surprise as the force of the bullet knocked him off his feet and sent him flying into the back wall. Blood sprayed everywhere. Rose gagged as a glob of blood and ligaments streaked past her, the droplets spraying over her face before the mass hit the wall and slithered to the floor. She was too shocked to scream, to make a sound, to do anything. The iron of the cuffs dug into her skin, pinching the flesh and pulling until the skin spilt apart slightly, blood beginning to drip slowly down her arms and soaking into her zip-up jacket. She somehow didn't mind; the pain allowed her to focus. It allowed her to keep her head and prevent her from losing herself in anguish as her eyes locked on the dead man sprawled on the floor.

Maurice calmly turned from Ganjud's body and walked the few steps back over to Rose. He wiped the barrel of the gun on the fabric of her jacket, the still intense heat pushing its way through the material to warm her cool skin and make it red. Maurice put the gun away and then looked at Rose as though nothing had happened, as though he hadn't just killed a man. She stared back with the same expression, resigned to the fact that she was more than likely going to change because of this.

'Sweetheart,' Maurice said, the steel in his voice contrasting sharply with the sweetness of the sentiment. 'You'd better start talking, or I can do that to you too. And what would your precious Doctor do then?' He smiled at her.

Rose thought that she might faint.