A/N: Here we go again! Wheee!
Thank you to My Reflection, cassikat, mirth513, and BalrogsBreath (and a Story Alert, too) for the first reviews. Nice to see this as a "favorite story" on the first chapter, so thanks for that to Basia Orci and BalrogsBreath. Hello and thanks to Grim Sinistre Symer for placing this on Story Alert and Favorites Of Grim c2. And Hi to Chopingrl84, it's a joy to see you're still reading this (another Story Alert).
I sure am glad to see you all. I got out the chapter I promised of the other story and no sooner than I did then the Doctor started hammering in my ear again. You know he's very persuasive when he wants to be.
As for the TARDIS, one of the first things he told her was "Stop jumping about on your own or --" and… River's little doomsday trap was triggered when? So while the deaths were unfortunate, Fate had to be allowed to play her hand (and the TARDIS really wants to keep that new circuit).
And Richard's smarts, both book and practical, are due to a little twist I'm adding to his background. It has to do with – nah, I'm not telling you, there are clues scattered in the last act. Think about it. (I'll add background notes if you indicate that you need them. I've got like most of the Doctor's existing stuff on tape (1 through 10, yeah… even the old black and whites), so I'm a big fan of the show…)
Oh, I want to add that this will cover crossover turf, likely starting off in one area and ending up in another, and the 2x2, Hands of Blue fellas will make an appearance by the end of this act.

Summary: The Doctor, reeling from the effects of the TimeWar as the last surviving TimeLord, stumbled into a situation he could not ignore when the TARDIS landed him inside a ship that was clearly in trouble. After the rescue, he's left with eight survivors that he must somehow get to safety. But the situation is not as cut and dry as he might like. His people may be gone, but the stamp he's made on the universe is still there, and he finds himself caught in a web spun of the choices he's made in the past…

It's 2517. Something in history has prompted humanity to explode out from their home world. Could the events of 2164 be responsible? Was Earth a myth or was it real? In fleeing Earth-that-Was, humanity scattered to the stars across the galactic arm. Initial survey teams targeted likely planets and systems for habitation and not all of them ended up on the same side of the sector. Blue Sun exists on one side, separated by a patch of 'wild space' filled with exotic binary and triple star systems, from the rest of civilized space.

Few ships brave the route. But luck had it that one ship did. Risking a ghost run, the only contact that the two sides have, the Hunter-Gratzner crashed midway through the journey. Original Port of Departure: Eavesdown Docks, Persephone. Mixed Sino-Anglo culture. Original Port of Call: Tangiers-5. Darkside. Mixed Islamic-Anglo culture. Crew complement: Four. Passengers: Forty. Living 'Cargo': Two. Survivors: Eight plus One

So what happens to Dr. Simon Tam, his brilliant but damaged sister, a convicted murder by the name of Richard B. Riddick, and the other survivors from the crash of the Hunter-Gratzner at planet M-344/G-2 now that they are on their way home? And just how is this related to the TimeWar?

A Doctor Who / Firefly / Riddick cross-over.

Features Doctor 9, Pre-"Rose"; Simon and River Tam, Pre-"Serenity" Firefly episode 1 and the survivors from Pitch Black: Carolyn Fry, William J. Johns, Imam Abu al'Walid, 'Jack B. Badd', Ali Abdullah, and Richard B. Riddick…

Doctor Who and the Ties that Bind.

Part Two

Improvisation

There was no Time here. Well there was a personal time, but there was no Time as in the thing that flowed one way through the rest of the universe. Making that distinction had been difficult. She understood it as similar to the concept of an item being bigger on the inside, that there was math that explained it. Unlike that concept however, this was far too complex for her to understand without a lifetime of intense study. So she just accepted it. Because she acknowledged the idea, it was one the first things that River Tam noticed once she woke up. It had taken her two sleep-cycles to grasp that, and now she was sitting up in bed, surrounded by things that were but were not hers, listening to the hum of the walls.

The ship, TARDIS, the golden Lady, liked her. It was aggrieved that she was in pain, whispering across her mind in a soothing fashion, giving her strength to push the ache away and function. It eased her mind, allowing her to feel things when she could cope with them, to warn her or teach her or habituate her to the sensations. The golden Lady did little without reason. Now Simon needed to learn and grow just as much as she did. They both needed a safe environment. She felt welcome here.

River's eyes were drawn again to the items in the room. One caught and held her attention more than any other. On her bedside table was a picture of a young woman with dark, short hair that framed her head and deep brown eyes the color of River's own, and an older man in a Victorian style suit with silver-white hair brushing his shoulders. She picked it up and looked at it. The woman's face she knew from an antique hologram that sat on the mantle in the dining room of the Tam estate. Her mother had told her that it was from Earth-that-Was and that it was priceless. Her name was Susan, Susan Campbell. And she was a distant ancestor on her mother's side.

Something about the old man with the sharp features and mischievous eyes standing behind Susan in the image was -- familiar -- too, although River had not been able to place it. She knew she'd not seen the man before, except perhaps in similar features of her great uncles. Her mother's family had very few girls although no one knew why. And her uncles and great uncles and so on, all really looked vastly different from each other, so the 'similar' wasn't really. But there was something that drew her back to that picture. Maybe it was the posture of the pair that spoke of deep affection across the generations, or maybe it was the protective nature she sensed about how Susan stood between the old man and the world in general.

She wished she could see auras in unmoving images.

She couldn't though, and it hurt too much if she thought too deeply about anything for a long period of time. She'd given up trying to find out why the Doctor's ship had a picture of someone from her family tree that just happened to be on her nightstand. Placing the picture back, she rubbed her temples to try to work the tension and pain away. The fire in her brain was still there, although when she concentrated she could submerge it and make it go away for a while. It was, at least, no longer in her body.

Then she noticed that the nightgown she was wearing was made of a fiber that flowed like worn cotton but felt like the softest of real leather chamois. It was a pale blue with tiny lavender flowers spilling across it and a touch of frills in the trim that was girlish without being garish. It kept her warm but not too warm.

And she should still be sleeping. Something had roused her, not that she'd been sleeping well in the first place. She closed her brown eyes and listened. Very light footfalls with a unique stride passed her door. She pinched the bridge of her nose as she forced the laser-like sweeps of hot back. The Doctor rarely slept. A short catnap often was enough for him. Although he was sleeping slightly more at the moment, and she knew that was her fault. The comforter came off her legs and she found herself yanking the door open, "Doctor?"

He paused about half way to the next door, but not looking like he was aiming for it, "Mei-Mei?"

The golden Lady herself was shielding now, far more effectively than the Doctor could, and the dark-haired young woman had realized how much of himself that the storm had given her with the time and effort he put forth on that planet. The difference was immense. The golden Lady was a different element, not opposing her, but it just wasn't the same. She ached for that feeling. Had it really been such a short time ago that he'd touched her? That their minds had brushed each other? It seemed like a lifetime ago. He'd given of himself so entirely and had asked for nothing in return.

And she had repaid him with agony beyond what anyone should ever be forced to endure.

Not that she had wanted to. She had tried to lock it away, to stay silent as the alien thing moved through her. She tried to warn him away, to control her body, to keep him safe, but nothing worked. She felt so hot, so parched, like rain had never fallen upon her and she needed it. Badly. She missed him terribly and was scared that he was gone from her forever. The distance seemed like it was too great to cross. How had they come to this point? Did he not want her anymore? Frozen, she stood looking at him, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes. She – loved, needed, desired – and was so very sure that he'd reject her. A sob rose from her throat.

"Oh, child," It took him less time to close the distance then she thought it possibly could, "Why are you crying?" His arms came up to enfold her into his embrace.

Although what she truly wanted was not purely physical, she melted into him, noting that he was -- warm -- almost the same temperature as a human. Dangerously heated. She gripped him with a panicked strength fueled by her certainty that he was dying, "Hurt you."

I won't do that to you beloved. His voice caressed through her soul, I am not going to die.

Don't make promises you can't keep! She'd forgiven him about Suleiman, but she'd never forgive him if he died.

He closed his eyes and hugged her tighter, letting her clutch him like he was her support. "This was not your fault, child. I should have kept better tabs on --"

"Not yours either. I wanted to go. Didn't know what was there. Still don't know why."

He kissed her hair and tried not to join her in her tears. This, like everything else, was his fault no matter what she might think. And he knew that to cure him and to kill the living energy-based infection, those around him would have to know the depths of his crimes and forgive him of them. But could he forgive himself? He'd learned, rather late in the game, that the most valuable things were those intangibles that could slip through ones fingers like grains of sand. So much lost, and sometimes he wondered if the price had been worth it. "I can remove the rest of the fire, if you let me."

"Recount why? For what reason was I utilized to impair you?" she whispered into his brown jumper that was rapidly becoming wet and salty from her tears.

Well, no time like the present, he supposed. Considering the fact that the TARDIS was keeping them suspended in the vortex at the moment. He wasn't ready to face this. But – to cure her he would do anything she asked. If baring his soul was what she wanted he'd do it. Steering her into the main hall and toward the currently empty library, the Time Lord said quietly, "All right, I'll show you."

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Simon found his sister and the Doctor in the book filled room when he came in from checking on William, post op. He was thrilled with the results of the operation, fully sure the man would make a clean recovery. He'd never had a better nurse than the TARDIS, and amazingly enough, Carolyn Fry. He'd sent her off to bed but was still far to awake himself to sleep. He looked at the pair and closed his mouth before he disturbed them. They were sitting across from each other in matching chairs, fingers entwined, stature still, intent in a way that locked out the rest of the universe.

This was different than anything he'd witnessed them doing before, like they were sharing something so deep, so profound, that it took everything they had to do it. The sight of their mingling aura was like watching the flow of a whirlpool, flashing blues and tones that all reminded him of water. It was so completely melded that he swore they had a single field instead of two. It was as intimate as walking in on a couple engaging in lovemaking. The reaction his body had was as if he were watching such intimacy too. He almost walked back out into the hallway as he fought away the heat pooling in his groin, hoping it would go elsewhere before he made a scene.

Simon?

The call froze him in his tracks. The sensation he was fighting flashed away with the reminder that this was his sister. The sound of her voice in his head alarmed him.

Simon, he's dying. He needs us.

A sharp vibration through the connection he shared with his Mei-Mei jerked into him like a jolt of panic. Neither River nor the man across from her had moved, but he looked over the Doctor again, turning his medically trained eye on the gent. His normally even and fair complexion was tinged with a flush that was like cinnamon. He was barely breathing, but his lips were parted slightly and the color of them gave the impression that his body was trying to shed heat any way it could. As he stared at the form he realized that the Time Lord had gone through this in cycles, nearly every one hundred and eighty ticks, since they had entered his ship.

But Simon knew his medical scans would reveal nothing wrong.

He frowned. Was this the effect of the 'Doomsday Agent' that he'd been given the preventive for? Where had River encountered it? And why was it active now? Most importantly, how could he assist?

Almost instantly something passed from River to the Doctor. It looked like molten sludge, and he could feel the heat of it even from the doorway. His alarm rose exponentially with the vision, as the auras between them that had been flowing like water evenly and smoothly the moment before set to a fast boil as the Time Lord absorbed the thick, nearly solid, energy.

Simon rushed over, "Lao tyen, boo! What did you do?" He's speaking to both of them, not sure who to be more worried about. River blinks slowly like she's surfacing from a dream. "Mei-Mei?" The blue aura that surrounds her is the only thing maintaining the aura around the Time Lord as his boils away. The implications are dreadful. The man is dying, and River is keeping him alive through the force of her will alone.

Burns. Everything burns.

"River!" She holds tighter to the large hand that is unmoving in her own as if she fears he will pry her away. There is absolutely no way he's going to do that. He has no idea what it would do to her if he did. She continues to blink, ignoring him. He tries to force his own panic back. He's hearing his sister's mental words like she is yelling them across a chasm.

Even you.

The Tam scion is out of options, now, as his sister begins to cry silently. He'd hoped to never see those fat drops slide down her face again. He places his hand over the entwined ones closest to him and is plunged into a hell that he can't describe. The pain of it is like being buffeted by a wind from a blast furnace. Like the boiling is pushing him away. No! He thrusts himself into the center of it and forces the wind to switch. Where is the cool of the void?

His mind is filled with visions of burning on such a wide scale he can't comprehend it. Planets, solar systems, stellar empires, galaxies. All burning. He can't deny this, what he sees. He knows the truth of it even if it is more appalling than anything he could possibly imagine. There must be a reason for this. Such destruction just doesn't occur on whim. He feels the hot hand entwined with his sister's fingers instinctively seeking the feel of the man's fluttering pulse. You can't go. Just show us why! We need you.

There's a harsh thunder-like laugh, How can you suffer me to exist?

But before Simon can answer there is another voice, rich like gold, soothing and deep, Snail?

The emotional reaction is mixed, like a renewed hurricane, bitter and angry, yet so very loving, -- Amadak?

He's right, you know. We do need you. Show us the reason for these actions. The feeling of immediate crisis backs off slightly. Show us what we have t'do to help you, Doctor.

They see themselves, and the other survivors, and countless more worlds that are safe. The see beautiful vistas in space that are more so because someone has appreciated them. They see a small blue world and a number of faces that would not exist had he not made other places burn. They see a universe at peace, free to evolve the way it was meant to, instead of being directed along a path of uniformity.

They know now. Everything burns because the Doctor made it burn. He is the beginning and the end. If he is to continue then he must be accepted for what he is, what he does, for the role he plays. Otherwise he will continue to feed the parasitic doomsday energy and it will continue to eat away at him until there is nothing left. Without the anchor he provides the universe itself might unravel. But no one carries that much, or do they? For here, relying on them to save him, is the Last Lord of Time, and his power is innate. But it is an omnipotence he can never abuse, for the pain of his life is too great for him to forget.

As one they see that the path to save him is built of a box, the sides are their compassion, in whatever way they can give it. River has already constructed her side, flowing water to block the parasite from the soul of the Storm. Richard builds his as well, a sheet of crystalline metal to defuse and channel the stolen power back to its rightful source. Simon can't find fault with the man for making such hard choices. He finds that he can force the black slag energy back into the corner the other two make and keep it there. But three a box does not make. Above them is the golden Lady, fighting to keep the Storm strong. Below is the Void, too weak to destroy the invader, unable to pull it down and hold it there. They are enough to trap it, but not enough to eliminate it.

Simon blinks and finds that River has attached herself to his neck. The hairless gent looks tired, like he's been wrung through. Kneeling on the other side of him is Richard. Simon blinks at the man's silver-eyed gaze. The lights are low enough for the goggles to be off. His hand is firmly gripping the Doctor's wrist, skin to skin. The Tam scion can see the sparks dancing across the connection. "You are channeling the charge, the energy, I saw go into the Doctor. Is it going to harm you? Is it safe --" Simon babbles out.

River reaches up and puts her hand over his mouth. "Simon. That is what Earth does." He looks at her and knows she at least is cured. He won't rest until the Doctor is too.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Johns opened his eyes to see the face of one Richard B. Riddick staring at him. He swallowed. His sluggish mind slowly filled in the details about where he was. A tired voice comes from the foot of the bed, "Can you move your feet for me, Mr. Johns?" He looks over at Dr. Tam and wiggles both feet. "Good. Any pain?" He wrinkles his forehead and then indicates no. "That's promising." The bed is tilted up into a reclining position that is not quite sitting and a glass of something with a straw is moved to his lips. It's the hydrating solution the Doctor had given him before. Better than water, he was informed. He sips.

"Thought the Doctor would be here," it's a raw croak from his throat being torn to shit when he was trying to regurgitate his viscera, his voice is. That the stern man is not there worries him somewhat, for no reason other than the fact that the man had given his word to be there when it was over.

"Perhaps later. He was up most of the night. I've had a bit of a nap," Simon lies.

Billy raises an eyebrow and looks over at Richard, "I don't know, he's not been well, has he?"

"He's fine. You worry about yourself, Billy."

"Hey. What is with the short temper here, Rich?" Johns reaches for the man and pulls back from the glare. He wonders if he did something wrong now, to have upset them all.

But Dr. Tam seems fine, if a bit drained. He even smiles at him a bit. The raven-haired man moves a tray over; "Here's some food. It should settle on your stomach well."

Johns focuses on it, as the plate is surprisingly good for an easy to digest meal. "Why you two hiding that our host is having a problem?" Whatever the issue is he wants to know about it.

Riddick sits on the edge of his bed, "Because he's not, anymore. We solved it. Ok? Should be reaching Helion tomorrow. You should be back on your feet by then."

"You both look like shit, you know that?" William looks from one to the other, noticing that Riddick is wearing his 'nothing can touch me' face that usually means he's rolling in emotions that he don't want to share. Not even poking at him with a sharp pointy object is gonna get past that.

"Thanks." The ex-ranger stands up and moves over to the Tam scion drawing him to the far corner of the room, "Listen, I wanted to tell you --"

Simon shook his head, "I'm good, Richard. No one is at fault here except the bastards that cut into my sister. You want to help me, then help me bring them down." They locked gazes. Just say the word. Simon knew that they would all need to stand together to beat this. But like most boxes, they needed a few more sides.