Donna sobbed, clutching her head, trying to stop the blood that was flowing heavily.

She sat down, unable to speak, unable to move, unable to do anything but whimper. The pain in her head was unlike anything she'd ever felt before. Unlike she'd ever felt in her life.

"Doctor…" She whispered. "Oh, Doctor…"

The Doctor glared at Sylar, who seemed perfectly relaxed as he relayed Donna's words.

The Doctor felt genuinely sick. This man, no, this monster, enjoyed what he was doing. He enjoyed the pain he was causing.

He struggled once more against the invisible force that held him, but there was no use.

"Leave Donna out of this!" he cried. "I don't care what you do to me, just leave her alone!"

Sylar rolled his eyes. "Oh-so-noble." He snorted. "I told you, Doctor. I'll leave her alone if you tell me what I want to know."

"What?" The Doctor demanded. "What do you want to know? You haven't told me!"

"Temper, temper." Sylar shook his head. "You should know better than that."

The Doctor struggled against the invisible force once more. He was seething, his expression livid. "So help me…"

Sylar came up next to him, his eyes locking on the Time Lord's. "What are you? Human or Hero?"

The Doctor swallowed. "Neither!" he spat out unwillingly.

Sylar rolled his eyes. "You have to be one or the other, Doctor! No exceptions." His finger raised level with the Doctor's forehead. For some reason, this scared the Doctor more than almost anything ever had.

"What are you?" He demanded again.

The Doctor sighed, realizing that he really had no choice. "I'm a Time Lord. From the planet Gallifrey." He said the words with a resigned tone in his voice.

"An alien?" The Doctor thought the man might scoff, but Sylar looked genuinely curious. "Really?"

The Doctor tried to nod. "I can prove it." He whispered. "Just let Donna go."

Sylar sighed. "Enough with the 'Let Donna go' bullshit, Doctor. I'll let her go when I feel like it. And that's not right now." He looked at the Doctor, raising the finger again. "How can you prove it?" he demanded.

The Doctor looked at him. "Just take a pulse. Two hearts."

Sylar cocked an eyebrow. "Interesting."

The Doctor wasn't surprised when Sylar placed his fingers against his wrist, pressing them slightly.

"My turn." The Doctor said. "What year is this?"

Sylar looked at him like he was insane. "Did I say you got a turn?" He demanded.

The Doctor glowered at him. "I had hoped." Acid laced his words.

"Too bad." He thought for a moment, then stumbled back. "Crap. You really are an alien."

The Doctor rolled his eyes. "Yes! Now what year is this?"

"Does it matter?" his eyes narrowed. "Time Lord…" He started pacing, muttering random things to himself. But the Doctor kept up well (this was often the way he often figured things out, after all).

"An alien…" Sylar continued. "Asking about the year…Time Lord…" he froze, then whirled to face the Doctor. "You travel in time, don't you?"

The Doctor snorted. "You tell me."

Sylar smirked, and Donna screamed in the other room.

"All right, all right!" The Doctor cried, once more struggling, trying to get away from the wall and into the other room, desperate to help Donna. "Yes, I travel in time! Happy?"

Sylar nodded once. "You teleport?"

The Doctor rolled his eyes. "It's a little more complicated than that…"

"Then make it uncomplicated." Sylar growled, his finger rising to The Doctor's forehead again.

The Doctor winced. This man could give the Daleks a run for their money. "Well, in human terms, I travel in time and space using a machine called the TARDIS."

Too late, The Doctor realized how grave of a mistake those words were. Sylar's eyes were gleaming.

"The TARDIS?" The serial killer demanded. "What does it do? How?"

"I want to see Donna." The Doctor said defiantly.

For a moment, Sylar's finger hovered in front of The Doctor's forehead again. The Doctor tried to stare him down, but Sylar just glared back.

Finally, Sylar nodded. "All right. Two minutes. That's it."

The Doctor fell to the floor. He kept his hands raised as Sylar led him along to another room.

"You might need this, though." Sylar said, smirking as he tossed a flashlight in The Doctor's direction. The Time Lord caught it with ease.

Sylar opened the door, and The Doctor heard Donna sobbing from inside. He ran inside quickly, flicking on the flashlight.

"Donna?" He asked.

Sylar raised an eyebrow. That was interesting. The Doctor's voice was so soft, so quiet. For someone so powerful, someone who could travel in time, travel in space, for someone not human, for someone like The Doctor, he was quite sympathetic to humans. Maybe he pitied them. Sylar sometimes pitied them, too. But he preferred to put them out of their misery than to show them the universe, which seemed to be this… Doctor's preference.

"Enjoy!" Sylar bit out sarcastically, knowing full well that Donna wasn't the only victim in there. The only living one, maybe, but not the only one.

He smirked as he waited, listening to their conversation. He questioned the logic behind giving The Doctor a minute with the woman. But The Doctor couldn't keep talking forever. And Sylar had seen it, in his eyes. That hesitation. The Doctor didn't want to tell Sylar anything about this TARDIS. He hadn't wanted to say anything in the first place, but this would take some convincing.

He smiled. Donna would be helpful in that respect, at least. If the Doctor saw what kind of a state she was in…

Sylar's smile widened as he listened carefully to the conversation on the other side of the door.

"Oh, Donna. I'm so sorry…" Sylar heard cloth moving and assumed that The Doctor was hugging her.

Donna was sobbing. "What do you need me to do?" She asked. Her voice was the faintest whisper, but Sylar still heard it.

Sylar looked at the door in surprise. Well. That was brave. The girl might be human, but she had courage. She was noble. Noble, but stupid. The girl wouldn't last two seconds trying to do anything, not with the gash on her head that Sylar had put there, the gash that was still bleeding heavily. He could hear the liquid splashing against the floor.

"Nothing. Please, Donna, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, but you have to stay here."

These two continued to surprise him. he'd assumed that The Doctor would tell her to escape, to get away as fast as she could. It was the typical response.

"What? Doctor, there's a killer here! There's a body! Look!"

Sylar heard The Doctor's breath catch in his throat, and Donna swallowed, her breathing suddenly heavy as more sobs forced their way out from her.

"I… I didn't know about that." She breathed. Sylar smirked. So the top of the head might be missing. That wasn't his fault; the man had to die somehow for his body to be there, didn't he?

The Doctor's voice was cold. "Why? That's what I want to know. This is purposeful, calculated. There's a reason."

"He's a sadistic serial killer! Case closed!" But Donna, despite the fury in her words, was back to sobbing. "Doctor, please. I don't want to stay here."

"Oh, Donna, I'm so sorry, please, I really am. But this man is dangerous. You'd never make it out of here alive."

There was silence for a moment, and Sylar heard him hug her again.

"It will be ok." The Doctor whispered. "I promise, we'll get out of here. We'll get you home, get some tea, eh? Maybe go to Reklon IV. Best tea in the galaxy, that I can promise you."

"No. No Reklon IV, no diamond planets called Midnight." She sobbed. "I want to go home, Doctor. Just for a day. Just… be home."

"All right. Home it is then. Fish n' chips, a decent cup of tea, everything. Little earth, in your time. Anything you want."

"It's that bad?" her voice cracked.

"It's that bad."

She swallowed.

"I'm sorry. But we'll get out of this, I promise. No matter what, I'm going to make sure you get home, ok?"

"What about you, Doctor?"

"Me? Oh, I'll be fine. I'm always fine."

Sylar highly doubted that one. He opened the door. "Time's up."

He saw Donna clinging to The Doctor, though rage was burning white-hot in her eyes as she glared at him. Not that he cared.

The Doctor held her tighter for a second.

"What am I going to do?" Donna asked softly, trying to ignore Sylar.

The Doctor held her at arm's length so that he could look into her eyes. "Just stay here and wait, all right? I'll get you out, I promise."

She nodded slowly. Sylar raised an eyebrow. Clearly, though he'd given her no reason to, Donna completely trusted The Doctor.

"Enough." Sylar snapped. "Doctor."

The Doctor nodded to Donna, who wiped her eyes and nodded back.

Then he turned to face Sylar and followed him out the door.

Sylar pulled up two chairs this time. The Doctor stayed standing.

Sylar sighed. "Really. I try to be polite, and people ignore it. What's wrong with that?" His eyes fixed themselves on the Doctor's.

The Doctor remained silent, his eyes filled with an unnamable fury.

Sylar rolled his eyes. "It's either the chair or the wall. Take your pick."

The Doctor glowered at him, but sat down.

Sylar smiled. "That's better." He looked at The Doctor for a moment. "You know, most people would have told her to run as fast and as far as she could. Arranged an escape. Anything but what you did." His eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "But you told her to stay. Why?"

The Doctor just glared at him.

"You promised her you'd get her out of here alive." Sylar continued, unfazed. "If you want to keep that promise, I suggest you tell me. Why?"

The Doctor sighed. "Like I said. She'd never make it out of here. She's human." His eyes narrowed dangerously. "You're not."

"Bravo, you've discovered the obvious. No, I'm not human. Though slightly more than you are, I'd think."

"True." The Doctor's eyes remained hard. "I've never been human. But you were once, weren't you?" His voice had gotten soft.

It struck a nerve, The Doctor could tell. Sylar's teeth were clenched as he spoke again. "I'm not human. And I never will be."

The Doctor smiled, a cold, hard smile. "But you were once."

Sylar stood, electricity dancing in his hands. "Never!"

The Doctor raised one eyebrow, but just sat there. There was no fight in the Time Lord's eyes, and if he was interested or pleased by Sylar's reaction, he didn't show it.

Sylar slowly calmed down enough to sit back into his chair, though he continued to glare at The Doctor.

But The Doctor had started thinking. He'd won a minor victory, and it was good enough for him.

Sylar looked at the Doctor again. "Now. This TARDIS. What does it do, and how does it do it?"

The Doctor rolled his eyes. "Believe me, if I tried to explain it, you're head would explode."

Sylar snorted. "Try me."

"It's best for both of us if I don't."

Sylar thought for a minute. "2010." He said at last.

The Doctor looked mildly startled, but recovered quickly. "I'm sorry?"

Sylar smiled. "You wanted an answer for an answer." He chuckled. "I'm flexible. The year is 2010."

The Doctor winced. "A few years off, aren't I…?"

"Is that a question?"

"No."

"Thought not." Sylar smiled coldly. "So, that leaves you with…" He counted on his fingers quickly, then nodded, satisfied. "Three."

The Doctor raised an eyebrow. "You're serious?"

"Two."

The Doctor nodded. "You are serious." He thought for a moment. "Let's see. You're obviously not human, so what else is there?" he raised a hand, cutting Sylar off before he could answer. "That's not my question. You mentioned something about a 'hero.' What did you mean?"

"That's your question?"

"Yes."

Sylar shrugged. "There are people out there, Doctor. People that aren't human anymore. They can do strange things, things normal humans could never hope for."

The Doctor didn't want to waste his next question on something so unimportant, but he had to. "Such as…?"

"Telekinesis. Telepathy. Time travel."

"Lots of T's…" The Doctor mused. "And you're one of them?"

"My turn. What is a TARDIS?"

"It stands for Time And Relative Dimension In Space. T-A-R-D-I-S, TARDIS. So you're telekinetic?"

"Among other things. How does the TARDIS work?"

"If I explained that, we'd be here for days. It takes you from one place in time and/or space and puts you in another. What other things?"

"Manipulation of electricity. Flight. Painting the future. Radioactivity. Mainly, I know how things work. Where is the TARDIS?"

"Parked in London, I think. Not quite sure. Why is someone's body in the room with Donna?"

Sylar shrugged. "I didn't know where else to put it. Or where to put her, for that matter. How do you control it?"

"The TARDIS? Well, you don't control it. You have to be a Time Lord. Sort of. Ish. Kinda complicated. Why did you kill him?"

"He had something I wanted. So no one else can control it?"

"Not necessarily. If you found another Time Lord somewhere, though that's highly unlikely. What was it you wanted?"

"His ability. Could breathe underwater, believe it or not. How unlikely and why?"

"Very unlikely, because I'm the last of the Time Lords. That's two. So you took his ability by killing him?"

"Yes."

"How?"

"I told you. I know how things work. I saw…" He smirked. "Inside his head, so to speak, and knew how his ability worked. So no human could ever be able to use it?"

A look of disgust and repulsion had crossed The Doctor's face, but he answered. "Doubtful. There are exceptions, of course. Is this a common thing for you?"

"You could say that. What kind of exceptions?"

"Emergency programs, already plugged into the system in case I need to send someone home without me. What was the man's name?"

"What kind of a question is that?"

"Just tell me."

"I don't know. Why would you send someone home without you?"

The Doctor's expression was livid, but he kept his anger in control. "In case I died. I've come close before. In fact, I was stabbed pretty recently. How come I'm not dead?"

"Ah. That. A simple blood transfusion. One of my abilities is cellular regeneration. Pulled the knife out and gave you some of my blood. Could you program the TARDIS to do other things? Not just emergencies?"

"No."

Before he could ask his question, Sylar spoke. "You're lying."

"Am not."

"If you don't answer truthfully, then I won't. That's the deal, Doctor."

The Doctor sighed. "Yes, I can program it to do other things." He thought for a moment about his next question. "How did you know I was lying?"

"It was an ability."

"Figures."

"Where, exactly, is the TARDIS?"

"Um… I'm not sure, exactly. Somewhere. I'd recognize it if I saw it. The person you took the cellular regeneration from; is he dead?"

"She isn't, no. Why don't you know?"

"Well, I know, I just don't really bother with street names. They all blur into each other after being on so many planets. What's her name?"

"Claire Bennett. Planets?"

"Well, yes, obviously. I told you it could travel in space."

Sylar bit his lip thoughtfully. "Interesting. I wonder…" He looked at the window, raising one eyebrow as he noticed that the sun was setting quickly.

"Anyone else survive you… taking their ability?" The Doctor winced.

"One. Though I never really succeeded in taking his ability. What does the TARDIS look like?"

"A blue box, basically. About this high, this wide." He measured the distance with his hands. "One of those old telephone boxes. Says 'Police Public Call Box' on the top. What was his name?"

"Peter. Peter Petrelli." He looked out the window. "And, I have a feeling this blue box is going to be pretty important." He smirked.

The Doctor felt his legs move, without his permission. He stood, though he wasn't trying to. He started walking in a different direction, and tried to complain, but his lips were pressed together once more.

"I'm afraid I'll need you out of the way for a while." He heard Sylar's voice behind him as he walked unwillingly into a room, one separate from Donna's. "Not long, but a while."

The door slammed behind The Doctor as he regained control of his legs. His struggling finally worked, and he lost his balance, falling to the floor. By the time he had managed to get back on his feet, the door was locked. Sylar was gone; he could hear him going out the window.

He sat down and closed his eyes. Now was the time for thinking.

Peter Petrelli. Claire Bennett. Both of which would want to get back at Sylar. Despite everything, The Doctor had no real chance against this man if he didn't have help, and those two were his best bet.

But that was the problem. If The Doctor asked for help, things could turn ugly. These abilities were dangerous, and if he started two 'heroes' fighting, it could easily escalate into a war.

A war that could very well mean the end of humanity itself.