Rose began to sit up, her head cloudy. Blinking in the light, she could hear the muffled sounds of other people doing exactly the same. She pulled her hair out of her face and stared around the room. It was the same. A glorious day (weather wise), a cluttered, comfortable living room, the sphere stood dead centre, but now the glow was pulsating, giving a lighthouse effect. A second wave of observation brought home the information that while Robbie, Jimmy and Greg were also picking themselves up, Genie, Buck, Ivor and - oh, please, no! – the Doctor were lying unconscious on the floor; the Doctor and Ivor exactly where they had been, Genie and Buck knocked down by the blast. Rose stared, shocked. He looked asleep, though she'd never known him to sleep. Her line of vision was broken suddenly, as Robbie scrambled past to shake his sister.

"Gen? Genie!" He pulled at her arms and hair, and then tried the pulse in her neck before sitting back. "Gina?"

Genie sat up, blinking in the dark. Her head was fuzzy, cloudy. Her brain ran the systems check that every brain does in this situation. I am alive, I am not in any pain, I am female, and my name is Genie… no. "Genie" didn't feel right. The brain reached a little, and found the name Kohl. Yes. Kohl was the right name. She stood; flipping back her long blonde braid, except her hair was red. Not ginger but a deep, bright crimson. She looked down, to find her jeans and vest replaced with a long, swirling mud brown skirt, a cream blouse and a brown bodice under a glimmering shirt of chain mail. Her bare feet were now wearing heavy black boots, and they carried her forward to a silver topped puddle which showed her reflection to have decidedly pointier ears than she remembered. The eyes, which should have been blue, were a brown so dark they were black and the healthily tanned skin was now chalky white. She didn't dwell on this, because new knowledge was swarming through her head: lock picking, trap and device manipulation, knife throwing, rapier fighting. And there on the floor was a rapier. She picked it up, silver bangles clinking, and turned to see what had become of the others.

The sound of that last questioning name spoken in such a tiny voice jerked Rose properly awake.

"Is she…I mean, she isn't…." she couldn't say that word, because if Genie was, the Doctor would be too. Slowly, the younger boy turned to face Rose.

"She's alive," he said. "But she won't wake up."

As Rose hurried to the Doctor, behind her she could her Greg checking Ivor, and proclaiming him to be the in the same state as Genie.

Something was tickling his face, so he sat up to push it away. It was his hair, longer than it should have been and suddenly silvery white. He ran a hand through it and felt the tips of pointed ears, startling him into jumping up. His clothes were gone, replaced with robes and gleaming chain mail, and in the nearest puddle he could see that his face, while similar, had differences. Different coloured eyes, deep blue rather than hazel, and paler skin. There was jewellery too. A huge amulet hung about his neck, and an ornate ring stood out on fingers longer than they had been. A greatsword on the floor caught his eye and he picked it up, noticing behind him a patch of shadows darker than the rest. He reeled slightly as new information streamed through his brain; fighting, magic, he knew how to warp the laws of probability. Along with all this, his brain was rejecting the name Ivor. After a brief cast about, one name swam to the front, clearly the one that should be used: Hideoshi. The patch of darker shadow followed him as he moved towards the only other standing figure, which having picked up a rapier, turned to face him. They stared at each other, face to elven face and finally she spoke.

"Wow. You really are a girly boy elf."

Ignoring this and everything else for the time being, Rose pored over the Doctor's prone form, placing her hand first on one side of his chest, then on the other, weak with relief to feel the steady beating of both hearts. She stroked his hair a little, and loosened his tie and the top of his shirt.

He allowed his brain to run the check before he opened his eyes. There were changes. He appeared to only have one heart. He was unharmed though, and he could hear people talking, bickering. He opened his eyes and noted the differences in them, then continued to assess the differences to himself. He appeared to be wearing armour made from animal skins, and as he stood, he'd swear he was taller. He appeared to be in some kind of cave, a steady drip in the background suggested dampness, and sure enough there were puddles dotted about the stone floor. He looked in one of them. His face was grizzled and weather beaten, his hair was long, and roughly tied behind his neck. From a short distance away, a hawk watched him intently, and on the floor lay a staff and a sling. He picked them up, and assessed the skills and data firing in his mind. Spells, he could cast dozens of spells, he could name every stage of the hierarchy of the druidic brotherhood, he could converse with nature – he couldn't WAIT to try that out, and some of the mysteries of the natural world he'd barely had time to ponder before. He studied the two people watching him, opened his mouth to speak, then paused as more information sparked. He assessed this too.

"I can speak druidic." He paused again, as the title "the Doctor" faded back into an unused part of his brain, and a new name swam forward determinedly. His eyes widened in surprise. "And my name's Tim!"

Having satisfied herself that there was nothing she could immediately do for the Doctor, Rose turned to look at the slumbering teenagers. Genie and Ivor, like the Doctor, looked just as thought they were sleeping, though Jimmy was blocking her view of Buck as he checked his friend's pulse and response. After a moment, he shook his head.

"He's totally out cold, too."

Everything was dark. After a moment, he realised he was lying with his eyes pressed against his arm and raised his head. For a second, his focus swam, then he registered a pair of boots not far from his face. He slowly pushed himself up, heavy armour clanking and causing echoes. As he pushed himself to his knees, he took in the whole of the elven girl looking back to the others. He recognised her, and spoke. He was surprised to hear a low, rasping grunting, rather than the words he'd intended. He understood it, but it was clear she didn't as she jumped and turned to face him, only to jump again as she looked squarely at him.

"Oh, Buck!" She breathed, prompting him to try again for normal speech.

"Help me up?" But his voice was still gravely and rather deep.

She did, struggling with his weight and the weight of his armour. Unexpectedly, he found he could quite easily carry the weight, and more besides. He looked down and noted his boots, which in the name of his god bore large steel spikes. They thumped loudly on the floor as he strode to a puddle to see what had startled his friend. For a long time, he just stared, saying nothing. His hair was the same, short and brown and perfectly tousled. His face, however, was barely recognisable. His skin had become mottled and grey, thick and leathery. His brow was heavier and his eyes smaller, though not by much. His lower jaw jutted forward, and two long, tusk like teeth curved from his lower lip, ending in points either side of his nose. He made to look at his hands, but thick gauntlets that would lock onto any weapon he took up covered them. On the floor beside him lay a plethora of weapons, one by one he picked them up, and found he knew how to use them, how to fight without them, how to ignore personal damage. The double bladed sword, the dwarfish war axe and the orc double axe he strapped to his back. The heavy steel shield he kept on one arm. Something about the girl was bothering him. Well, something that she'd said.

"Not Buck." He told her. "Khan."

Rose and the boys leapt suddenly to their feet as their four afflicted friends sat suddenly bolt upright, eyes open and unfocused, faced the sphere and began rolling dice.