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Martha examined the burn pattern on Rory's side with interest. All of his other wounds were treated. Despite needing a blood transfusion, his injuries in themselves were not infected nor life-threatening. But the burn was strange.

Instead of feeling hot like most burns, this one was cold to the touch. Nothing she'd ever seen before matched this particular type of injury: it was almost a half-bruise, half-burn, resting on the surface of the skin.

The other doctors and nurses were just as stumped. She glanced at one of the nurses watching her. "Go get the Doctor, please."

"Yes m'am."

Martha had hesitated until now to bring the alien into the room because she knew once he came, Amy would not be far behind. Nothing quite like worrying the wife of the man you're trying to treat by telling her you have no idea how he was injured. But at this point, she had no other options.

Sure enough, when the Doctor came bounding into the room, the redhead was right behind him. They asked at the same time, "How is he?"

Martha allowed herself a wry smile. "His injuries appear to be non-threatening. Though he did need a blood transfusion, his body accepted it without any worries."

Relief shone in both of their faces, so much so that she hesitated to bring the next bit of news to them. "However, the reason I brought you in, Doctor, is that I have no idea what this is or how to go about treating it. It's not an ordinary burn."

The Doctor stepped forward as she moved aside. He touched the area, sniffed it. Martha sidled up beside him to keep him from licking - one never knew what the Doctor might do when he tried to figure something out.

Amy came up on the other side of the bed and laid her hand on Rory's forehead, smoothing back his hair. Even unconscious, he seemed troubled, eyes flicking back and forth underneath their lids.

The Doctor sighed and both of the women turned their attention to him. He laid a finger on the skin. A frown creased his forehead. "This is an Eronian virus, starts at the surface of the skin."

"Starts?" Amy asked.

"Unfortunately, yes. The first few days, it merely rests on the top of the skin, creating this strange sort of burn that you see here. But then it starts to sink down through all of the layers of skin, eating away at the cells, killing them, until..."

"Until what?" Both women asked.

"Until it starts eating at his internal organs." The Doctor's face was grim as he looked up at them. "Within a week of whenever the victim receives this virus, they die of internal bleeding."

Amy felt faint. She grabbed for a chair behind her and sank down into it before she could collapse. "But there's a way you can treat it, right? You know of a way."

"Yes, there is a cure." He gave her a faint smile. "But I'll have to go to New New York to get it."

"Then go! Get it! What are you waiting for?"

The Doctor reached out and put his hand over Amy's, where it rested on Rory's forehead. "Rory is in a fragile state right now. I don't want to leave him in case he wakes up and his mind starts to deteriorate even further."

She looked down. Rory's chest rose and fell gently with each breath he took. Right now, he seemed peaceful. It was difficult to picture him screaming at everyone as he had been just a few hours prior. The desperation and sadness in his face when he looked at her haunted her. "I will give him something to focus on. I can keep him stable if he wakes up. Go."

"But -"

"Doctor, you have a time machine. We'll be fine."

"But you know -"

"And if you're late, so help me, I will slap you into next week."

The Doctor froze, his objection still on his lips, hand raised to make a point. "Very well then. I shall strive not to be late. Martha -"

The woman was already shaking her head. "No offense, Doctor, but the last time I went for a simple pleasure trip on the TARDIS, the world ended."

"That wasn't my fault," he pouted.

"I know, but I've got patients to attend to and people to oversee and they can't afford to have me "accidentally" take a couple of months off."

"You two have no faith in me whatsoever."

Martha and Amy shared a smile with each other. The redhead spoke, "It's not you we don't trust - it's that time machine. If we take us out the equation, there's a higher chance that you'll go exactly where you need to."

"Oh fine! Speaking of time, we're wasting enough of it as it is. If he starts screaming again, don't try to get him to focus, just sedate him. If we're not careful, he could lose entire sections of his memory." With that cheery thought, the Doctor turned and headed in the direction of the TARDIS.

"I see his gift of encouragement hasn't improved much with the new face." Martha cocked an eyebrow before turning a soft smile in Amy's direction. "But he will be able to help."

"I know." Amy bent over Rory and placed a kiss on his forehead. "Raggedy Man will save my Centurion...if my Centurion will find the strength to hold on."

A loud commotion outside the door drew their attention. A man's voice rose above the rest, "What are you going to do, shoot me? See how well that works out for you. I'm the one who brought him in the first place, I just want to see how he's doing."

Martha chuckled as she headed for the door and opened it. "Guys, let him in. Mr. Williams is sedated right now anyway, it's not like Jack's going to cause any harm. And let my husband in, for goodness' sake!"

Amy watched as the trenchcoat-wearing man from earlier swaggered into the room and kissed Martha's hand. Behind her came another man - this one kissed her on the lips. "How are you?"

"Better now that you're here."

Amy's attention wandered from the couple as the trenchcoat man approached her, wearing a brilliant, charming smile. She shifted away from him in distrust and clutched Rory's hand with both of hers. "And who are you supposed to be?"

"Supposed to be?" He laughed. "What do you think this is, Halloween? I'll have you know I am Captain Jack Harkness, head of Torchwood here in Cardiff, wooer of all species, and rescuer of your fair husband."

"My fair husband? He's going to punch you in the face if he hears you call him that." Amy couldn't quite decide if she wanted to do the same. The man was annoying, that was for sure, but if he spoke the truth, he did save Rory. "Thank you...for rescuing Rory."

Jack's smile became more genuine as he extended a hand to her. She took it hesitantly and he laid a kiss on it. "My pleasure. I only wish I could have taken him out of there sooner, Mrs. -?"

"Amy. Amy Pond...er, Williams, both, really," she stumbled over her words. She could never quite settle on which last name to go with when introducing herself to people. If on earth, it was always Williams; with the Doctor, it was usually Pond; but now it seemed strangely disloyal to not go by Williams with her husband lying nearly catatonic next to her.

"Well, Mrs. Amy Pond or Williams or Both, it is a pleasure to meet you, even if it is under such grim circumstances."

"Amy." Martha came back over, holding hands with the other man. "I'd like you to meet my husband, Mickey."

"Nice to meet you," she murmured, shaking his hand.

"How is he?" asked Mickey.

"I don't know. He seems troubled, which should be impossible since he's sedated, but I can't give him any more without risking complications." Martha went over to one of the monitors attached to Rory. "Fortunately, his blood pressure and heart rate are strong. I don't think he'll need another transfusion."

Amy sighed. "We just have to wait for the Doctor now."

Rory stumbled through the debris of some palace or temple or something, finding it difficult to keep his footing in the uneven terrain. He couldn't remember how he got here, nor if he should be concerned about whatever dangers here might possess.

As he looked up, he saw shadowy figures in the distance, rushing along too quickly for him to recognize. Every now and then he caught a glimpse of a face that seemed familiar to him, but the next second it was gone - too fast for him to make out fully.

All of the buildings surrounding him were broken down: shattered fragments of a once great civilization. Oddly enough, he couldn't bring himself to care, even though he knew he should. He felt utterly detached.

"You have never helped us, Centurion. You brought this down upon us with your box. We knew it was an evil omen and you would not listen to us."

He turned in a circle, trying to find who the voice belonged to, but nothing greeted his eyes aside from the blur of shadows racing past him. He could remember those words though. He'd had this conversation before.

A new voice joined the first. "You cannot withstand the heat? What if we set you on fire and the box along with it?"

"We'll bury you alive - see how long you last."

"Chain you to the bottom of the ocean."

"You'll never escape us. You'll lose your precious box."

"The Doctor is never coming for you, you are foolish to wait for a promise that will never be fulfilled."

The voices grew in volume and number until he was stumbling back, falling against one of the shattered columns behind him, clamping his hands over his ears. He sunk to his knees, making himself as small of a target as possible.

But his tormentors only grew louder.