Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who reviewed the first chapter - idancecrazy, TheGreatWhite, MayFairy, gallifrey calls now, Aietradaea, Son of Whitebeard and Theta'sWorstNightmare. It's great to have some support when I am trying something different in my writing, so I really appreciate the feedback.

- Chapter Two -

The Doctor sat on the stairs leading down to the entrance to his TARDIS and flipped his sonic screwdriver in the air, before catching it again. He repeated this action two or three times, before sighing loudly and laying back on the glass platform to stare up at the ceiling of the time machine, listening to the steady hum of the time rotor. Boring. Boring, boring, boring. Yep, there was no doubt about it, being dead was boring. Especially when you weren't really dead at all and people only thought you were. Oh, the logic of it was clear. He'd been getting too loud in the Universe, too obvious. So now he needed to step back into the shadows, to give him a chance to sort out what the Silence was all about and to figure out what this question was, hiding in plain sight, that should never be asked. And having all his enemies think that River had shot him dead at Lake Silencio gave him the perfect opportunity.

Trouble was, at the moment he didn't have much to go on, and he was getting restless. And he missed the Ponds. He hated not having a companion. The TARDIS always seemed so empty and echoey without anyone else in it. There was no point coming up with dozens of witty, cool things to say if there was no-one to listen and to tell him how brilliant he was. Not that Amy and Rory had commented on his brilliance very often. In fact, Amy was probably more likely to tell him he was being an idiot. But he still missed their company.

Suddenly, the phone on the console began to ring, a shrill summons slicing through the peaceful stillness of the console room. Excited at the unexpected interruption, the Doctor leapt up to answer it, before pausing with his hand hovering indecisively over the vibrating receiver. He was supposed to be dead. Dead people shouldn't really answer their phone, should they? Whoever it was obviously didn't know he supposed to be dead. By answering, he would blow his cover.

The phone rang again. Whatever it was, it was bound to be more interesting than sitting here feeling sorry for himself.

What the heck, he thought impulsively. Let's take a walk on the wild side!

With that, he snatched the receiver into his hand. "Hello, caller. You're in luck, the Doctor is in!"

"Doctor?" a familiar male voice queried.

"JACK!" the Doctor exclaimed exuberantly. "Long time, no speak! How is everything?"

"Not so good, actually," Jack replied in a thick, choked voice. To the Doctor's alarm, it sounded as if he was crying.

"Why? What's wrong?"

"Martha's dead, Doctor. She's been murdered. And the police think Mickey did it."

A light, teasing breeze blew across Roald Dahl Plass, sending a few dry leaves skittering across the paving in a merry, swirling dance. The Doctor drew up the collar of his jacket as he stepped out of the TARDIS and looked around the oval shaped arena. It had been a long time since he had been here – not since the end of the Year That Never Was, when he had dropped Jack off and left him behind. Dawn was just breaking in a wave of pink and silver. The city was beginning to stir, but for now, the Plass was deserted except for a familiar tall, dark-haired figure in a greatcoat, waiting patiently for him.

"Jack," he said cautiously. He wasn't quite sure how this meeting would go, to be honest. There had been quite a lot of water under the bridge since they had last seen each other. It was always uncomfortable encountering old companions again, which was probably why he made sure he didn't do it very often. Too much guilt. Too many recriminations.

"Doctor," the other man responded, his tone equally wary. But then he suddenly stepped forward and enveloped the Time Lord in a big bear hug, holding on to him tightly. "Good to see you."

"And you," the Doctor said as they separated again.

Jack looked him up and down in the old, playful, flirty way. But the Doctor couldn't help noticing that his eyes were bleak and full of sadness. Jack and Martha had been close and he was obviously feeling her loss deeply. "New regeneration...I like what you've done with it. Not sure about the whole bow-tie thing though."

"Bow-ties are cool," the Doctor replied. He had used the huffy comeback so many times by now that it was almost an automatic response. But today, with Martha's death hanging over them like a shadow, neither of his hearts were really in it. "What happened, Jack?"

The other man gave a sigh. "I don't know. I wish I did. Martha and Mickey have been working for Torchwood as freelance consultants here in Cardiff. I've been helping to establish a base of operations in the USA with a man named Rex Matheson. Martha and Mickey have been helping Gwen to hold down the fort here. Two days ago I got a phone call from Gwen to tell me Martha had been murdered in her flat. Her throat had been cut with one of her own kitchen knives. Apparently Mickey arrived home shortly after it happened and was so upset when he found her that he made the mistake of picking up the knife. There was no sign of any forced entry or of any struggle and no other fingerprints or DNA except for Mickey's."

"Which is why the police arrested Mickey, right?" the Doctor surmised. "If in doubt, always pick the husband. But there's no way someone as feisty as Martha would just let someone walk up to her and cut her throat."

"Yeah, well, that's not all of it," Jack continued grimly. "I've still got some contacts in the Cardiff Bay Police, even though Torchwood personnel tend to be persona non grata around here these days. I've managed to get my hands on some of the crime scene photos and I think there's one you need to see."

With that, he handed the Doctor his Torchwood PDA. There was a photo already on the screen. The Doctor stared at it. It appeared to be a mirror, with a series of intricate, circular patterns inscribed across it in thick, red lines.

"Is that what I think it is?" Jack asked, in the tone of one who already knows the answer to his own question.

"It's Gallifreyan," the Doctor confirmed, a new sense of horror starting to creep over him as he traced the elaborate script with his eyes.

"Yeah, I figured that. It was found in Martha's bedroom, right next to where she was killed. I'm guessing it's a message for you," Jack told him bleakly. "What does it say?"

The Doctor shook his head in puzzlement. "It's a number...the number three."

"Three? That's it? That's all? But what's that supposed to mean?"

"I have no idea," the Doctor said worriedly. "But I think it's time you used your police contacts to get me in to see Mickey, right away."

Jack was as good as his word. Within the hour, Police Sergeant Andy Davidson had escorted them into the depths of the Cardiff Bay Police Station, where Mickey had been incarcerated in a temporary holding cell until the police completed their investigations into Martha's death, whereupon he would presumably be officially charged with murder.

Sergeant Davidson was an eager, fresh-faced young man with a charming Welsh accent. He had once been Gwen Cooper's partner during her time on the force and he had maintained close ties with Torchwood ever since, often helping them behind the scenes. He had regularly expressed an interest in joining the covert organisation, but Jack had always refused, believing him to be unsuited to the rigours of regularly dealing with alien incursions. Besides, at times like this, it was handy to have an insider on the police force.

"I'll have to stay with you, Jack," he said now to the Torchwood leader. "It'd be more than my job's worth if anyone found out I left you alone with a murder suspect. I'm already risking a lot just by bringing you in here without authorisation. You've got five minutes, that's all!"

"That's fine, Andy, we get it," Jack answered tautly. "Just stay by the door and keep quiet, would you?"

The young Sergeant rolled his eyes, but did as he was asked without further comment.

Mickey was sitting on the narrow bunk in his cell, his head in his hands, his shoulders hunched in despair. He didn't even look up as the door clanged open, showing no interest in who his visitors were. The Doctor went over and crouched down in front of him.

"Mickey..." he said.

The other man raised his head, revealing a face ravaged by grief and lack of sleep. His eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot from crying.

"Who are you?"

"It's me, the Doctor. I've regenerated again. I'm so sorry about Martha, Mickey. I'm so, so sorry."

Mickey stared at him for a moment and then glanced at Jack, who nodded.

"Doctor..." he said hoarsely. "She always believed you'd come back some day. It's been so long, I was starting to think you'd forgotten about us. But she never gave up hope."

The Doctor tried not to think about patient Martha waiting for him to return, only to die so horribly before he came back. He couldn't bear it. Martha the faithful, Martha the courageous, Martha who had never let him down. Martha who had loved him, once.

"I never forgot about you, Mickey, either of you. I've just been...busy..."

It was a lame answer. He knew it was lame, so very, very inadequate. But there was nothing else he could say.

"You have to find out who did this!" Mickey said fiercely. "Because, whatever they think, it sure as hell wasn't me!"

The Doctor grabbed his hand and squeezed it tightly. "I will, I promise. That's what I'm here for. But you have to tell me exactly what happened."

"I'd been working late..." Mickey began, his eyes distant as he remembered. "There was this report of a Weevil infestation in an old church in Tiger Bay. I went there with Gwen to deal with it. It was nearly midnight by the time I got home. All the lights were off, except for one in the bedroom, so I thought Martha was up there. I called out to her that I was home, but she didn't answer. So I went upstairs and opened the door and found her. She was just laying there in a pool of blood, staring up at the ceiling with this bloody great...hole...where her throat should be."

His voice trailed away and great, gasping sobs began to wrack his body.

"I'm sorry, Mickey, I know it's hard, but you have to tell me what happened next," the Doctor urged.

"I lost my head! I didn't know what to do. The knife was just lying there beside her – one of our own kitchen knives – and I picked it up. I don't even know why I did it. I was just begging her, over and over again, to wake up and speak to me, but she didn't. I tried CPR, but it was too late!" Mickey sobbed, his big hands clenching almost painfully around the Doctor's. "So I dialled '999' and the police came. I was holding the knife and I was covered with her blood. They arrested me and took her away in an ambulance."

"So, apart from the message daubed on the mirror, there was no sign that anyone else had been there?" the Doctor asked. "Nothing at all out of place? Nothing that would help us figure out who the murderer was?"

Mickey shook his head hopelessly. "Nothing."

"Sorry to interrupt, but we really need to hurry," Andy interjected from over by the door. "The detectives on the case will be back soon and I really don't want them to find you here."

"I've got to go, Mickey," the Doctor said, patting his hand awkwardly. "But I assure you, I will find whoever did this. You have my word."

Mickey didn't reply. He merely disengaged his hand and lay down on his bunk with his back to them, his shoulders still shaking with jagged sobs.

The Doctor got to his feet and he and Jack followed Andy out into the corridor. The cell door clanged securely shut behind them. Nervously, Andy led the way back towards the exit.

"So, Doctor, what do you think?" Jack asked as they walked.

Up ahead, Andy unlocked another barred gate and swung it wide for them to pass through, before closing it again and reattaching the keys to his belt.

"Well, it definitely wasn't Mickey," the Doctor replied thoughtfully.

Jack snorted. "I never thought it was! For one thing, Mickey doesn't generally leave little love notes around the place in Gallifreyan."

"No. There are only two people alive who should be able to do that. And it wasn't me."

"So who's the other one?"

The Doctor paused for a moment, before answering, "A woman named River Song."

"And where would we find her?"

"The Stormcage Containment Facility," the Doctor said curtly.

Jack's eyebrows shot up at the mention of the notorious high-security prison planet. "What's she in for, exactly?"

The Doctor paused again, even longer this time, evidently reluctant to answer. Then he said, "Murder."

At that moment, a blood-curdling scream echoed up the corridor, coming from the direction of Mickey's cell.