AN: It's a LOT of dialogue, but it's an update! Get off, stop trying to bite me! Also, you'll notice I refer to the Doctors by their clothing, not by Seven, Nine etc. Because I thought, the companions wouldn't necessarily know what number their Doctor is, and I'm writing through them, so… Anyway. Review, my pretties?

FOUR

Amid the general hubbub of bemused Doctors and companions expressing this bemusement, the One in the Bowtie stepped forward and clapped his hands together, broad smile on his face. "Right! First things first…"

"Oi!" said the older red-haired woman who'd spoken before, "Who put you in charge?"

He appeared to smile fondly at her for a moment, before justifying, "Well, I think I'm right in saying that I'm the only one here who recognises everyone else, correct?"

The rest of them looked at each other, each spotting at least one unfamiliar face and mumbling in agreement.

Bowtie nodded. "Yes, well, I think that qualifies me to be, as Donna so aptly put it, 'in charge'. Now – raise your hand if you're the Doctor!"

Four hands were raised, Rose noticed – her Doctor's, of course, and Bowtie's, and Pinstripe's, and that of the umbrella-wielding newcomer, who was now spluttering in disbelief. "Nonsense!" he exclaimed, "Who are all of you?"

"Aw, come on," said Bowtie, shaking his head in mock-disappointment. "You can work it out. You're a Time Lord!"

"Well, yes, but—"

"And what do Time Lords do best?"

"Get into trouble?" suggested the young woman in a black bomber jacket.

Bowtie grinned widely. "Well, there is that," he said, "But on a more…genetic level?"

Understanding began to dawn on Umbrella's face. "Ah…"

Bowtie nodded, satisfied, then started pacing back and forth through the group. "Now, for some reason even I can't fathom – and as I'm sure all of me will agree, I'm pretty clever – four versions of me, the Doctor, have been brought to this…"

"Maze." Umbrella supplied.

Bowtie nodded approval. "Thank you. Or…thank me. Anyway! We're all here. Don't know why, come to that in a bit. Amy and I came in the TARDIS, not by choice, and the rest of you…?"

"Teleport," the other three said in unison.

Bowtie frowned. "From what year?"

"Thirty-three point seven slash apple slash twelve."

Three voices again. Bowtie narrowed his eyes. "All three of you – six of you – in the same time period? Same planet?"

"Rejiva."

"Teba."

"Satellite Nine."

"No, then," he mused. "Interesting. So maybe…wherever we are now, we're in thirty-three point seven slash apple slash twelve. That means you lot could be teleported across space… but as me and Amy have never been to this time, we had to come by TARDIS."

"Makes sense," Rose's Doctor conceded, though she could tell he wasn't best pleased that someone else had done the working out.

"Does it?" Donna countered. "Doesn't make much sense to me. Why would anyone want four of you?" she gestured to her Doctor, "One of him's enough trouble."

"Thanks," pinstripe said, mock-pouting.

"Trouble, yes, I'm good at trouble," Bowtie said, grin back in place. "You certainly wouldn't want four of me around if you were up to no good. However…"

"If you wanted help…" the question-mark-adorned Doctor continued,

"Then four lots of brilliance…" pinstripe added,

"Would be just what the Doctors ordered!" Rose's Doctor finished triumphantly. Rose rolled her eyes as the four Time Lords exchanged some sort of complicated four-way Gallifreyan equivalent of a high-five.

"Oh yes, all very good, nice word play," the young woman who'd arrived with Umbrella – Ace, was it? – said sarcastically, "Are you forgetting something? Big, hairy monster? Roaring and crashing and eating people?"

Her Doctor removed his hand from the tangle, "Actually, yes, that's true, on our way here, we saw a big…creature…"

"We were chased by one as well," Amy put in. "Maybe the same one."

"Mmm, I'd forgotten about our very loud friend," Bowtie agreed, "He's another piece of this puzzle but I can't fathom where he fits in."

"Maybe," Rose suggested, feeling oddly left behind having not said anything so far, "If we find out why we're here first – then we'll work that one out too?"

Bowtie grinned at her, "Sounds good to me! Any ideas on how, though?"

"Well, the Professor said earlier," Ace supplied, "That if we are in a maze, we should try getting to the centre…"

"Excellent idea, my good old self," Bowtie enthused, clapping Umbrella on the back. "Centre of the maze it is then. Only question is, which way?"

None of the Doctors could agree on a route. Diagrams of possible shapes were scribbled and torn up and there was bickering aplenty. The four women apart, each casting disapproving looks at their Doctor.

After a minute or two, Donna's gaze strayed and fixed on something else. Or rather, someone else. She watched her from a distance, the young blonde woman whose name she'd never heard the Doctor speak without a slight catch in his voice. Rose. She was so much more human than Donna had imagined her – seemed ordinary, far from the goddess-like image Donna now realised she'd had in her mind's eye all this time.

"Rose, right? I'm Donna." She switched on the warm smile, which was returned.

"Hi," Rose said. "You're with pinstripe, right?"

"Yep. The hyper one. And yours is the sullen leather?"

Rose grinned, "Yeah."

"He's quite nice," Donna mused, "Got a sort of…military look. Fancy a trade?"

Rose laughed, "Well, yours is quite pretty I suppose…great hair."

Donna snorted. "Skinny strip of alien nothing."

Rose laughed, and there was a pause. Donna pondered saying more, but was oh-so-conscious that she could easily mess up what was probably one of the most important parts of her best friend's timeline that she wasn't sure what she could say.

"Don't you just love it, though?" Rose said then. "Travelling with him?"

"Wouldn't give it up for the world," Donna answered. "Any world."

"Me neither." There was a dreamy look in the other woman's eyes now, and it saddened Donna, knowing as she did that Rose wouldn't get that choice.

Moments later, the kerfuffle on the other side of the cave ceased, and the Doctors, evidently having come to a decision, rejoined their companions. "We're going this way," Bowtie said, pointing at one of the tunnels stretching before them.

"Why?" Amy asked, out of curiosity.

"Because paper beats rock. Apparently. Can't see it myself. Well, not Earth paper. Come on then!"

Hungry. Hungry and running. Smell of fresh blood not far off, it wafts into your nostrils and the hunt is on. Closer, closer…

The prey is weak. Crack of bones as you crush it, screams of agony spur you on.

You begin to feast.

Suddenly, though, you raise your head. There are footsteps, many of them. Sounds which are words you don't understand but you know it means food.

You leave your half-finished meal behind and you run. There is no thrill in your chase, no adrenaline, only hunger, and the need to satisfy it.

Hungry. Hungry and running.