Donna sat crammed into the tiny rear seat of the airship, glaring daggers into the back of the pilot's bald head. The General, the Doctor had called him. Another stupid name for another stupid Time Lord. She'd like to yank his headset off his ears and tell him so.

Beside her, Jack smoothed his long coat over his knees. Even the feel of his firm, fit thigh pressed so tight against her own could not alleviate Donna's rage. "Try not to kill him yet, Red," he said into her ear, to be heard over the roar of engines and wind. "It's dangerous. You gotta let him land the plane first."

"I disagree," muttered Donna, unable to help a twitch of lips. "The Doctor could fly this thing just fine."

She inclined her head to him as she said his name, but the Doctor, despite being seated just ahead in the co-pilot's chair, did not seem to have heard her. The bit of his profile she could see was stoic, albeit worryingly pale. Though he'd been silent since boarding the ship, his anger was palpable. Donna suspected it far exceeded her own.

"Why aren't you upset?" she asked Jack, after a glance out her small side window. Still nothing to see but golden sky and barren, rocky land. "I might be 'vermin' according to those arrogant twats, but you're an 'abomination.'"

"Been called worse." Jack gave her a grin and a shrug. "And the President seemed scared of me, which I found extremely rewarding."

"They'll be scared of me, too, once I've had a word with their idiot Council," Donna replied, and felt warm through and through when Jack let out an attractive laugh.

The man was undeniably gorgeous, and better yet, he was kind. Bit of a player, though. Donna had gotten her fill of that sort of rubbish with her ex-husband. Still, it didn't hurt, having this lovely, handsome man pay her loads of attention. It was nice to feel admired. To not be the third wheel.

Not that the Doctor didn't openly admire her too, but it wasn't the same. It wasn't like when they'd travelled together before, just the two of them, because these days he was so focused on Rose and his children. As he should be.

"You sure don't seem sick," Jack was saying, looking her up and down with those pretty blue eyes of his. "I never did get the story on what's wrong, just that whatever solution the Doc's cooked up might turn you into…" He paused, glancing at the pilot, who still wore a headset. Even so, Jack mouthed it. "The Hybrid. Whatever that is."

Donna's stomach turned. "He's being stupid," she replied, and hated how unconvinced she sounded. "That won't happen. Besides, now he seems to think Rose is…that."

"He doesn't. It's a trick." Jack's brows were drawn, like he was surprised Donna hadn't caught on to that.

"Yeah, I know, but…" She shrugged. What Donna couldn't say, not here, was that she thought it made sense, that Rose might be the Hybrid. Blondie…well. She certainly wasn't fully human anymore.

"I had an accident," she decided to say, rubbing her eyes. "Sort of. Got a Time Lord consciousness stuck in my head. It's lethal. But, the Doctor says they have the tech here to change my biology, make it like his."

Despite her vague explanation, comprehension flared in Jack's eyes. "What, do you mean he's gonna make you into a–"

"Shh," Donna hushed him, though she was pretty sure the General couldn't hear them. "Yes, but I'm not that keen on it."

"What? You'll be amazing!"

She smiled, then elbowed him. "Not as amazing as the man who can't die."

"It's not as great as it sounds," said Jack, running a hand through his dark hair and sounding serious for once. "Speaking of weird abilities, do you know what's up with Rose? Something must have happened to her biology, if she got shot today and miraculously healed. Unless it was a trick too?"

Donna eyed the back of the Doctor's head. Had he stiffened? There was a lot of wind noise and Jack had spoken quietly, but Time Lord hearing was freakishly good. And he wouldn't like them discussing this. "Not a trick," she finally murmured, leaning close to Jack's ear. "I don't know exactly what's up with her, because she's nearly as tight-lipped as the Doctor these days, but I'm pretty certain she doesn't age."

"Lucky girl," said Jack wryly, but his eyes were soft. "Actually, I'm really happy to hear that. It must make their relationship so much easier if they know he won't outlive her."

The sky had changed colour, now white-gold with cloud cover, and in the far distance, a city rose sharply out of the rocky ground. Donna sat up straight, motioning wildly for Jack to look. The sight was impressive, to say the least. All those alien worlds she'd been to and it was still like nothing she'd ever seen, an enormous expanse of cylindrical towers of varying heights, formidable metal edifices glinting in the sunlight like vessels of war. One central, massive tower soared high above the others, though that wasn't the most striking bit. That was the fact the whole city was enclosed within a dome of glass.

Like a snowglobe, she might say, if there was anything quaint or inviting about it. But this place repelled. Intimidated. And not in the way a palace or a cathedral might intimidate, ostentatious and grand yet inhabited by mortals. Superior beings dwelt here.

Jack and Donna fell silent, grateful to notice pleasanter sights as they drew ever closer. Snow-capped mountains stood just beyond the city, and plains full of trees, as beautiful as the Capitol was awe-inspiring. A gasp escaped Donna when, directly beneath them, red desert abruptly gave way to a below-ground-level urban area, an open labyrinth of streets like an ant farm, its design as intricate and precise as the inner-workings of a clock. The glass globe of the Citadel rose above its exact centre like a bauble.

Everything was so complex and so strange that Donna, hard as she tried, could not quite comprehend what she was seeing. And then, before she realised it, they were descending rapidly into a hangar right at the globe's base, touching down.

Silence rang in her ears as the aircraft's engines switched off; a hiss as the doors slid open. Everyone climbed out, wordlessly following the General across the hangar's concrete until they passed through a door into a stark white corridor. Suddenly, the Doctor spun around, fixing Donna and Jack with an intense look. "You've got to let me handle this. Not a word from either of you."

Jack saluted. Donna huffed but did not argue. She didn't like it, but she got it. This was very much his planet, his people. And his wife was in danger.

The lift rose at an alarming speed, up, up, up. They were going to the chambers of the Time Lord High Council, the Doctor explained succinctly, located at the very top of the Citadel's tallest tower.

The lift opened into a small lobby with only one door. The General, who had not spoken since they'd left the barn, put up a hand. "Your humans must wait here, outside the chambers," he said to the Doctor.

Before Donna could snap at the man, the Doctor was doing it for her. "My friends are coming. That was the agreement."

"We agreed they could accompany you to the Citadel, yes, but…"

The General looked startled as the Doctor pushed past him and stalked through the doorway. Donna shot the bald man a haughty look as she marched by too, Jack on her heels.

The chamber, unsurprisingly, was ornate, all stone and dark wood, with tall, narrow windows. There was a long, oddly-shaped table, its surface decorated with circular writing that Donna recognised as the Doctor's native language. Chairs ringed the table, most of them occupied by stone-faced men and women. A few had those giant collars sprouting from behind their necks like big golden birds' wings, though some women wore simple red head-scarves and robes.

Donna wanted to roll her eyes at the sheer pomposity of it all, but, ridiculous as they looked, these people radiated power. A superior race. Much as she hated herself for it, Donna shrank back to stand against the nearest wall.

She needn't have worried about drawing their attention, though. Every single Time Lord was staring at Jack, a few of them having spun in their chairs to do so, as if Jack were some frightening mythological creature.

The nasty old man from before, the President, (what was his name again, Rascal or something?) sat at the head of the table, looking furious. But before the President could vent his wrath, the Time Lord seated right of him blurted out, "What is that?!"

Jack bowed cockily, giving the man his most winning smile. He did indeed look like he was enjoying himself immensely.

"I'd tell you, but then he'd have to kill you," drawled the Doctor in a low, do-not-challenge-me tone. It worked; everybody kept quiet as he and the General took the last two empty chairs at the table. "And that's the last question I'm taking until you answer one of mine."

Looking far scarier than any of his peers, the Doctor glowered at the President from deep-set eyes. "Where is my wife?"

"Safe. In a holding cell," the General assured the Doctor. "No harm will come to her–"

"No." The Doctor's fist thumped hard against the table and though the Time Lords didn't exactly jump, they flinched. "You give me Rose, I give you information about the Hybrid. That's the deal."

Donna drew a relieved breath when she saw the General lift his wrist communicator to his face. "Aro," he said, when a tiny ugly holographic face appeared. "How long will it take to have the human woman delivered to the Council Chamber?"

"General!" the President spluttered. "We can't have her brought here! That woman is the Hybrid!"

The General nodded at him, looking surprisingly unperturbed. "Yes. And the Doctor is her husband."

"Which is why he ought to be locked up along with her! Or better yet, executed!"

"Please hold for further advice," said the General into his wrist comm. Ending the holo-call, he gave the irate President a patient look. "Lord President," he said, "you cannot execute the Doctor. The people of Gallifrey will revolt. Your presidency could be endangered."

"Endangered? He has endangered the entire planet by bringing the Hybrid here–"

"I didn't know she was the Hybrid," the Doctor interrupted, sitting back and folding his arms. Every gaze shifted to him. Even to Donna's eyes he was an incongruity, here in this room full of figures berobed like royalty. The tall, gangly body, the smartly coiffed hair, the purple frock coat and bow-tie– he should come off as silly, here. Odd. Young. But he didn't.

"It's been centuries since I've lived on Gallifrey," he went on, "you think I sit around worrying about your dusty old prophecies? I only put the pieces together after we arrived, when you lot started ringing all those bells."

"When you did realise," asked the General with genuine curiosity, "why did you not leave immediately?"

"I wouldn't have come here at all, had I not had a very good reason. My friend here," said the Doctor, thumbing backwards toward Jack, "he's wrong, as I'm sure you've all noticed. He's become a living fixed point, a temporal anomaly. As such, I'm sure you'll agree it's imperative, for the continued preservation of Time, that his condition be corrected."

Beside her, Jack drew a sharp breath at the Doctor's words, then exhaled in disappointment, as if suddenly recalling that the Doctor had been lying through his teeth about almost everything. Donna side-eyed her new friend. Why would he want his condition corrected? Wouldn't it cost him his immortality?

"...convinced a cure is not beyond the abilities of Gallifrey's best scientists," the Doctor was saying, as Donna tuned back in. "So here's the deal. You give me scientists and a private lab for two days. Once our time's up, my wife and my friends and I swan off with a vow to never return, whether the temporal anomaly has been cured or not. You'll never need to fear the Hybrid again."

The President set his jaw. "The Hybrid is unstoppable, according to the stories."

"Well, if they're just stories, why are you so worried?" The Doctor's tone was light now, and he fiddled idly with his bow-tie.

The General, sitting beside him, turned in his seat to meet the Doctor's eye. "Some Matrix prophecies suggest–"

"No." The Doctor raised his delicate brows.

"Many prophecies suggest–"

"No."

The General swallowed. "All Matrix prophecies concur that this creature will one day stand in the ruins of Gallifrey. It will unravel the Web of Time and destroy a billion billion hearts to heal its own."

As he nodded along, the Doctor's grave expression showed he was taking things very seriously. "Does it say anything about its hair colour?"

The General and the President shared a baffled look. "No," the General answered.

"Prophecies." The Doctor gestured dismissively. "They never tell you anything useful, do they? Rose isn't a natural blonde, so I was curious to know how the Matrix might describe her. If it said 'deadly and brunette' you'd never see her coming– well, unless it was more than six weeks since her last dye job. Then you'd have a clue," he added, gesturing to his scalp to indicate their clue would be Rose's dark roots.

The President's eyes flashed. "This is no time to play the fool."

"It's the end of the universe. It's the only time I've got." With a sniff, the Doctor tapped the table, then spoke again in a low tone. "You want me to keep you all safe, then there needs to be a bit of mutual back-scratching. So do we have a deal?"

"Yes," agreed the General quickly, obviously hoping to keep the conversation from devolving back into pointless arguing. "We can give you a scientist and a lab." He typed into his wrist comm as he spoke.

"Scientists. Five. I also want a neural-block. Human grade."

"Block?" said Donna, startled into speaking. "I don't want my memories blocked, I thought–"

Jack's hand squeezed her wrist. "Shh."

Thankfully, nobody seemed to have noticed Donna, as every eye was riveted to the Doctor. "One more thing," he said, looking up and down the table, like he was making sure nobody missed his next request. "I want the High Council's permission to access the Matrix."

It was almost impressive, the way all the Time Lords' faces simultaneously hardened. Even the General, who had seemed quite keen to keep the Doctor happy, looked suspicious. "You are already psychically linked to the Matrix, Doctor," he replied.

"Yeah, well, you know me, I burn through lives faster than a cat. Maybe I could use another regeneration cycle."

Something about the Doctor's glib answer had the President half out of his chair. He leaned over the table toward the Doctor, his eyes blue fire. "Or maybe," he spat, "you are looking to grant your wife the regenerative abilities of a Time Lord. And I, as Lord President, declare the decision is no."

"Oh, really?" The Doctor's voice was as light as the other man's was dark, and millions of times more threatening. "As Lord President, I'd think you'd better understand how a negotiation works. No Matrix, no deal. My friends and I will hop back in my TARDIS and we'll go on our merry way, no worse for wear, while you lot sit here at the end of the universe and try to figure out how you'll survive the scary mystery monster if she ever makes a surprise return."

"Speaking of," he went on as he rose out of his chair, resting his weight on the heels of his hands in order to incline menacingly toward the President. "Where. Is. My. Wife?!"

Chest swelling in indignation, the President clenched his teeth and glared. The General rushed to answer the question. "Doctor, I already ordered for her to be delivered to your private lab. She will be waiting for you there."

The Doctor's gaze shifted to him, no less cold and hard. "Fine, but you tell your men to get those bloody psychic isolator cuffs off her. Now."

"Oof," Jack said under his breath, looking pained.

"What are psychic isolator cuffs?" Donna hissed in his ear, but Jack only shook his head to remind her they couldn't talk here.

The General too looked pained, even shocked, as if the use of such devices on Rose was awful and also news to him. He nodded, as if ready to issue the directive, but then the President's voice rang out.

"The cuffs will not be removed." A glint of pleasure appeared in the old man's eyes when the Doctor sucked a small breath. "Forgive me if I don't trust you, Doctor, but the future of our world is at stake. All psychic interaction between you and the Hybrid will remain blocked for the entirety of your stay. Verbal communication will be allowed, but monitored."

"She is my bondmate," the Doctor ground out through clenched teeth, like he wanted to prevent himself speaking but couldn't. "Blocking our link is illegal."

Donna's hand flew to her chest as she comprehended. Though she had little experience with telepathy, she'd spent enough time around the Doctor and Rose to see their link was as important to each of them as a beating heart. Mentally, emotionally, those two were entwined to the point that they were practically a single entity. Even physically, they were never out of touching distance for long. How would they endure this? No wonder the Doctor was scarily angry. The Time Lords were probably lucky he hadn't torched the place yet.

"Bringing humans to Gallifrey is illegal," replied the President. "It is illegal to marry one of them. I'd say concessions are being made on both sides, wouldn't you agree?"

"Just figured you'd rather deal with a sane man."

"As if you've ever been that."

The Doctor's mouth twisted into a smirk, as if conceding the point. Donna knew better. So did Jack, going by the way his grip on her wrist tightened. The old man had pushed the Doctor too far.

As the Doctor abruptly shoved his chair back, its legs screeched against the floor so violently that several council members started. "I think we're done here, kids," he said. "Take me to my new lab."


As they traversed the long, blank white corridors, the Doctor was careful to keep his eyes mostly on his own shoes. Just hearing the swish, swish of Rassilon's robes just ahead was enough to incense him, to make his hands squeeze into shaking fists. Every glance up at the man was a poor decision. A reminder of how easy it would be to spring forward like a tiger, snatch the General's blaster, and–

No. He couldn't let himself picture it. With Rose's telepathic absence bleeding him out like a very real wound, he was barely on the right side of sanity as it was. Now was not the time to get impulsive. Not when he was mere moments from Rose, and so desperate to lay eyes on her.

Be brilliant, he reminded himself. Play the game.

Donna and Jack were relying on him too, though they seemed to have cast themselves in a protective role, flanking him like bodyguards. Made him wonder if they knew his win in the council chambers had been by a frighteningly narrow margin.

It wasn't luck that had granted Rassilon his immense power, his longtime position. He was a formidable foe, a master at psychological warfare. It was unlikely that anyone on the council had been conscious of how skillfully he'd regained some of their approval by shining a spotlight onto the Doctor's psychic enmeshment with Rose. Subtly reminding them that while the Doctor might seem impressive, he was mentally and emotionally compromised. Suffering the terrible consequences of a marriage bond.

It was all bollocks, of course, like so many other things he'd learnt in the Academy. His people were too closed-minded (literally) to see the obvious: two, when joined, were always stronger than one. It was basic maths.

Well, what did it matter? It wasn't his job to educate them. And he'd managed to one-up Rassilon by accepting his refusal to remove the isolator cuffs from Rose. No doubt Rassilon had expected him to beg, ha. As if he'd let any of them see how much he was hurting. As if he'd ask for a favour. The one with the most power never did.

The Doctor knew it was vital he keep every ounce of power he held. Not only did the Council hate him, but they believed his permanent death would break the symbiotic link with his TARDIS, allowing them to use it to restore Gallifrey to (what they saw as) its rightful place in the universe. Right now, only the threat of the Hybrid and of backlash from the Gallifreyan people kept the Council from ordering his immediate execution.

They weren't too bothered, though, because the sneaky evil gits felt they had the upper hand anyway. In their minds they had other, potentially better means to control him, to force him to do what they wanted. They had Rose.

They would never give her back to him.

Another flare of rage burnt through the Doctor at the thought, even though he had zero desire to let Rassilon give him anything. Oh, no, no no no. He would snatch what he wanted from the dear Lord President's unwilling hands.

His pulse quickened as the General's boots finally stopped moving, pausing the five of them before one of the blank white doors. There was a low electronic beep as he touched his finger to a keypad, and the door took its sweet time sliding open. The Doctor clenched and unclenched his fists, trying to maintain the illusion of calm control.

It might be for naught, though, if Rose wasn't waiting inside.

He hated that he couldn't hear her, couldn't feel her at all. It made him a volcano rolling with smoke, and when the General and Rassilon dared step into the room before him, he very nearly blew.

Blank walls, glowing computer screens…oh! His hearts leapt. There she was, sitting in the farthest corner with a soldier guarding her, her denim jacket a spot of colour in the room's canvas of white. Rose's eyes were swollen from crying, and the burnt hole in her sleeve sickened him, but she was alive and whole and here. Relief drained the strength from the Doctor's body.

"Sorry," she mouthed, right as he mouthed the same thing to her. The Doctor couldn't help a smile. They might not be mind-linked at the moment, but they were in-sync as ever. He gave Rose a meaningful look, letting his eyes say what his mouth couldn't –it's okay, trust me– and rejoiced in her tiny nod of understanding.

"All right," said the Doctor with a clap of his hands, tearing his gaze from his wife to survey the room's other inhabitants. One ugly, scowling soldier in maroon standing guard over Rose, five scientists gaping at Jack (their white clothes making them look even more like ghosts), Rassilon, the General, Donna. Everybody was watching him, but he directed his words to Rassilon. "Looks like I've got what I need and so have you. Now, sod off, and take him" -a nod to the General- "with you. I've got work to do."

"Yeah," Donna agreed loudly, like she'd been dying to pipe up for ages. "Sod off, Mister President. Go send some relief supplies to the poor people in the Dry Lands, instead of standing around this lab being useless."

The Doctor might've laughed at her audacity had his gaze not fallen on the soldier standing over Rose. "Take that boy with you, too," he growled. "Best if he's gone before I get a chance to find out if he's the one who shot my wife."

Fear widened the snub-nosed soldier's eyes.

Still, it was no surprise when Rassilon did not budge. "You and the Hybrid will not be left unsupervised."

"The technicians have nearly finished creating the neural block you'd requested," the General hurried to say, clearly anxious to keep the peace. One of the scientists, a tall, dark haired man with rather large ears, came over and handed the Doctor a small device, round and imprinted with three linked circles.

Nodding his thanks, the Doctor pocketed it. He glanced left and right, checking that every game token was where they should be. Jack stood behind him, alert as a predator, the General several steps away, Rose safe in her corner. Rassilon, nice and close. Donna was nearby but totally distracted, staring at the scientist who'd handed him the neural block. Good grief. A person would think she'd never seen a tall, handsome Time Lord before.

It was too risky to nudge her back to attention, so she'd have to be Jack's problem.

"Actually, it's alright if you lot don't want to sod off," said the Doctor to Rassilon, detouring back to the main topic. "It gives me a really good excuse."

Rassilon looked exasperated. "An excuse for what?"

"For this," he replied and reeled back, pent-up rage exploding from his body as he punched the old man square in the jaw.

Several horrified gasps (and a gleeful one from Jack) filled the air as the President flailed and stumbled and went down hard, crashing flat on his back on the floor. The sight of him sprawled there, stunned and gaping and helpless, sent a stab of pure, fierce joy through the Doctor. With swift movements, he stole Rassilon's blaster and pointed it at him.

"Doctor," he heard the General say, "that's the President's personal sidearm. There isn't a stun setting."

"I told you, my terms aren't negotiable." Eyes locked with those of the felled President, the Doctor undid the gun's safety, his hands perfectly steady. The blaster let out a low whine, indicating it was charged and ready. "I need access to the Matrix and the code to unlock the isolator cuffs. Now."

From the corner of his eye, the Doctor saw the General unholstering his own blaster. "Doctor," he said carefully, aiming the thing at him, "even those of Gallifreyan birth who have not been exposed to the untempered schism cannot be granted a regeneration cycle. Time itself could become unbalanced. Are you really willing to take that risk?"

"The code," was all the Doctor replied, re-levelling his blaster at Rassilon and ignoring the General.

Rassilon sneered at him and said nothing.

"You're not too scared right now, are you?" commented the Doctor. "I reckon it's because you've granted yourself endless regenerations. If I shoot you, it's not likely you'll come out of it older and more decrepit than you already are. You'll get a new, young body. You'd like that."

Jack's voice piped up behind him. "Are regenerations supposed to be limited, Doc?"

"Yes. To twelve."

"Cool," Jack replied, like they were all having a pleasant conversation. "What number are you on?" he asked the General.

"Tenth."

"Perfect."

An ear-splitting, electric-gold shot cracked the air, and the General cried out as he collapsed, his blaster clattering across the floor. Stunned, the Doctor whirled to Jack, just in time to see him take aim at Rassilon. "More decrepit, comin' right up!" he crowed as he fired an energy bolt at the President's knee. Rassilon let out a roar of anger and pain.

"What the hell, Jack!" shouted the Doctor, even though he was already busily stealing the General's teleport bracelet. The dead man's skin was beginning to glow.

"It's not like you were gonna shoot him. You hate guns."

"Where did you even get a gun?"

Jack, who was now using said gun to threaten the hog-faced soldier, gave the Doctor a grin and a brow waggle. Then Rose was there, helping the Doctor secure the teleport band around his wrist. "Put a hand on it!" he yelled. Rose and Jack did so.

"There's nowhere for you to hide, Doctor!" shouted Rassilon. The General burst into fire and light. Donna stood a few steps away, dazed and dissociated, still looking at that bloody scientist.

"Donna, hand! Now!"

As if waking from a deep sleep, Donna blinked at the Doctor, then at the hands piled atop his wrist. "Right, sorry!" she said as her eyes cleared, darting over to clap her hand down. And then, thankfully, before it was too late, the Doctor realised why Donna had been staring at that bloke.

"Oh, good job, Donna!" he exclaimed. "We need a scientist, don't we? Jack, grab him!"

In a flash, Jack hauled over the man the Doctor had nodded toward.

The world splintered into light as they teleported away.


Another wild, ominous screech came out of the dark. Deep down, somewhere in the recesses of his mind, the Doctor was aware that this was a problem that deserved his attention.

It did not get a single snip of it.

"Rose," he whispered again into her soft hair, his arms wrapped so tightly around her he could almost touch his own ribs. He nuzzled the top of her head, kissed the spot between her brows, energy crackling between them everywhere their skin touched. The urge to meld his mouth with Rose's was nearly unbearable, but the Doctor knew if he did, he'd never manage to keep the kiss brief or chaste. They were in creepy catacombs with two friends and a hostage, the line had to be drawn somewhere.

Rose palmed his face, obviously as hungry for connection as he was. "I'm so sorry, love, this is all my fault. I don't know what I was thinking, running off like that–"

"No, no." He dropped his forehead to hers again, revelling in the momentary restoration of their connection, even though it was brief as a flash of light. "It was my fault. I'm so sorry I blocked our link without talking to you about it. No wonder you thought I didn't want you here."

"I should have listened when you asked me not to come. You knew something like this would happen."

"I asked you not to come because I'm stupid, sweetheart." Slowly, he traced his fingers down her right arm, caressing the smooth skin exposed by the burnt hole in her jacket sleeve, needing to reassure himself again that she was truly okay. "I say stupid things all the time. It doesn't get much stupider than me asking you to stay behind when I need you most. That's why I count on you to disagree with me."

"But I've ruined–"

"You've ruined nothing. We're exactly where we need to be. Sure, getting here required a bit more violence than I'd hoped for, but we can thank Jack for that."

"You're welcome," said Jack, from somewhere to their left.

That got a small smile out of Rose, for which the Doctor was grateful. "How'd you get them to bring me to you, anyway?" she asked.

He dipped his chin, let his eyes gleam at her. "Let the Time Lords think you were the Hybrid," he whispered, so as not to be overheard by his hostage.

"You did not!"

"Course I did. And it worked."

Rose gave him a true grin. "Yeah, probably cos of what happened after I got shot."

His imagination conjured up an unbidden image of this, and he winced. "Rose. I can't joke about that."

"Sorry, love." Pulling back a bit, she held up her hand. The transparent cuff on her wrist glimmered in the faint light. "So. Think you can get these off me?"

Taking her hand in both of his, the Doctor examined the isolating device with a frown, riddled with doubt but not wanting to voice it. The thing was seamless, delicate-looking, like a good knock would break it, which likely meant nothing could break it. "They'll open with a code," he explained. "A telepathic one. Of course, Rassilon refused to give it up."

"Can the sonic…"

He already had the tool out and whirring, and the readout was just as he'd dreaded. "Sorry," he whispered, and felt helpless when Rose's eyes filled with tears.

"These things are torturous," she blurted out, wiping her eyes. "I can't feel you, I can't feel the girls. It's been driving me mad, thinking of how frightened they must be, having their mummy suddenly disappear from their heads–"

"They're asleep," he rushed to reassure her, tugging her back into his embrace. "Have been since before it happened. It's the middle of the night, where they are."

"Oh, thank god." Her voice cracked with relief, and she buried her face against his chest. Blimey, he could kiss Jack for shooting that bloody Rassilon. The old git deserved what he got.

"I'll get them off you soon, darling," the Doctor vowed, right as another animalistic cry sounded. "Just, not quite yet. We ought to move."

"You don't say," drawled Jack. "I think I saw a Dalek, Doc."

Taking Rose's hand, the Doctor turned toward the sound of his voice. Jack stood about five steps away, alongside Donna and the tall scientist, both of whom looked a bit shell-shocked.

"Where are we?" Jack asked, giving the dark, dungeon-y space a dubious look. Strange, glowing cables dangled from above and wrapped around an occasional pillar, giving off a faint, blue-white light like radioactive spaghetti, but everything else was shrouded in shadow, making it impossible to tell what might lay beyond– be it doorways, walls, creepy-crawlies or murderous monsters. Even the floor was hidden by a heavy low fog.

"We're in the Matrix. Can't fix up Donna without popping in here first."

Donna didn't respond to her name. Just stood there silently, arms wrapped around her middle, her bright hair gone dark in the weird light. The Doctor eyed her. They were all in obvious danger and she hadn't yelled at him for canoodling with Rose. "Donna? I'm talking about you, and you aren't even paying attention."

Her hazel eyes snapped to his. "Right," she said, exhaling. "Sorry."

Like a button had been pushed on him, the big, tall scientist suddenly came to life, running a hand through his dark hair, exhaling noisily as he rubbed his face. Then he stilled, and looked at Donna straight on. "He keeps calling you Donna," he said, shaking his head in disbelief. "But you can't be her."

Donna's mouth fell open. "I can't?"

"You're just a dream." Another screech came out of the dark but the man didn't seem to notice. His hands fidgeted and his tone intensified. "Donna is a fictional person created by a computer, or maybe even by my own head. And–" He tossed his hands, mouth stretching into something that was half smile, half grimace. "Now you're here, on my home planet, which is stranded at the end of time, and not only that, you're as beautiful and fiery as ever, telling off the Lord President. Forgive me if I'm not quite sure you exist."

The Doctor felt even more confused when Donna laughed out loud. "We're in the same boat, then," she told the scientist, clapping a hand to her cheek. Her eyes shone. "I pegged you as a dream, too."

As if struck, Donna's smile abruptly fell. "Hold on," she said, eyes round with astonishment. "You're a Time Lord, Lee?"


I really hope all of you at least somewhat remember who Lee is, or this cliffhanger won't have near the impact I'm hoping for LOL