Zoey frowned. It had been a week since the mysterious Dr. Smith had joined their ranks, and she still wasn't sure what to make of him. He worked well, effectively and efficiently, but he was tricky. He displayed only enough knowledge to do his work and hid the rest. She wasn't sure how much he actually knew, and she didn't like that. Observation had been proven ineffective. She hadn't been able to discern a weakness to hold against him. It was high time, she figured, to move to more…direct methods of persuasion.

"He's slick," Thames commented, looking at the feed displayed on the screen. "More than I gave him credit for. Fletcher cracked in two days."

"The fool was trying to contact the authorities." Zoey's lip curled. "It's just as well he knew something and valued his family more than his knowledge."

"This Dr. Smith doesn't seem to have any family."

Zoey chuckled. "Of course not, Thames. Look at him. He doesn't want us to have anything to hold over his head. He wasn't chosen for this assignment simply because he had the brains for it."

"So you think he's affiliated with someone?"

"He has to be. Pity that they won't be seeing him again."

"Lothos hasn't turned anything up."

"Nothing substantial," Zoey corrected. "We don't know that it's not connected. That report, from 1969, could very easily be depicting the man's father. Or, at the very least, it tells us how he chose his name."

"He did say he was well-connected. He could have covered his tracks."

"He can't hide anything that Lothos can't uncover. There are always traces." Zoey idly watched the screen. After a moment, her expression changed into a deepening frown. "He's in Alia's file," she spat, straightening.

"Cool it. This is the first time he's tried anything. Let's see what he's looking for. We could figure out why he's here."

"And that's why Lothos hasn't stopped him?" Zoey snapped. "I really don't like to think that anyone can get around our systems, but if there's a chance that he can, I'm not about to let him do it!"

For a moment, Thames looked shocked, but he was quick enough to school his expression again. "Lothos will know what he's doing. He's probably just biding his time."

Zoey glared but did not contradict him. "Very well. If the good Dr. Smith is so interested in Alia, then he can work with her. She will be the first test subject when he says he's completed his work."

"You're going to risk her?" Thames asked, looking honestly surprised. "And if it fails?"

"A setback," Zoey replied sharply. "Nothing more."

"It's been—"

"I know how long it's been. I know what I've invested in her. But our Dr. Smith wasn't told about our trial leapers specifically, yet he managed to pull Alia's file without difficulty. He knows about her."

"Are you willing to wait to confront him, then?" Thames asked sceptically. "It could be months."

"Not at the rate he's working. He knows what he's doing. He's researched this sort of thing before."

"He'd said he had experience," Thames allowed, recalling the recording of Dr. Smith's conversation with the guard. "Do you think that's what he meant?"

"He wasn't bluffing when he said he was a brilliant scientist. But he's too cocky if he thinks he's licked us yet." Zoey tapped the screen. "Keep watching him. I'm going to inform Alia that she's finally to meet the new addition."

Alia was surprised by Zoey's announcement. She'd heard whispers of the new head scientist; even in their secluded quarters, news still found a way to travel. What interested her was that no one really knew anything about him, as far as she could tell, though there were hopes that he could be the one to work out the details that had eluded the others.

She wondered if he knew what he was really working towards.

If he did, she wasn't sure she wanted to meet him.

She couldn't refuse, she knew. But he wouldn't be the first madman she'd met since she'd come here. Another in a long line of conniving— Alia stopped. She shouldn't judge him yet. Perhaps he didn't know the end intention of the experiment. Still, if that were so, he was a fool. It hadn't taken Dr. Fletcher very long to realize what Zoey really wanted—or what Lothos was.

Zoey left her in one of the Mirror Rooms. Alia hated these rooms. Reflection upon reflection, fragments of a repeated image over and over and over, top, bottom, sides—and no peace. They were two-way mirrors. Inside, you were haunted by your own replicated image. Outside, they watched you.

She wasn't sure how long she was in there. It felt like ages. She was sitting now, on the mirrored floor, looking between it and the walls and the ceiling. The woman in the mirror didn't seem to be her anymore. She copied Alia's movements, but she felt like an imposter. Or perhaps she herself was the imposter, and the woman in the mirror was her true self. Which of them had pulled the trigger? Which of them had murdered, killing another to save her own life?

One of the images in front of her twisted, its angle changing, and she realized the door was opening. She'd forgotten where it was. It was so easy to get turned around in this room.

The man who walked in was younger than she'd expected. He looked a bit tired; she wondered how much they were letting him sleep. They certainly hadn't offered him any clothes, judging by the suit he wore. She could see a rumpled shirt beneath it and decided he must have been sleeping in it. She doubted they were rationing his water, though, for he was still clean shaven. He must have been provided with a mirror along with those other toiletries; he didn't bear any cuts, and she saw no patch of stubble on his face. Plus, his tie was straight, though his hair was far from neat and tidy.

The door closed, and he smiled at her. She wondered at its sincerity. "Hello, Alia," he said, his gentle smile spreading into a grin. "Pleased to meet you. I'm the Doctor." He held out a hand.

She reached out to shake it, but he pulled her to her feet first before shaking her hand enthusiastically. She retracted her hand as delicately as she could. "Hello, Dr. Smith," she replied, keeping her voice smooth and level.

"Just the Doctor, if you don't mind." He paused before launching into a rapid explanation. "I hear enough of Dr. Smith from everyone else. Gets a bit tiring—especially the way they say it. Namely because they don't believe it's my name. Not that I blame them. It's a bit of an adopted name, I will admit, but it's grown on me. Still, I'm surprised they haven't asked me more questions. I would have expected more. I suppose they just want to see what they can figure out by watching me. Because that's why we're here, you and I. Well, I think it's why we're here. Bit of an assumption, but a fair one."

"I beg your pardon?" Alia asked, not quite sure what to make of the new scientist.

"I was looking at your file," the Doctor replied cheerfully. "Bit scant. They don't keep good records. They don't even list a last name for you."

"I gave it up," Alia replied, "for the privilege of being involved in this experiment."

"And you didn't think that was a bit dodgy?" The Doctor raised his eyebrows. "Bit naïve, wouldn't you say?"

"If you are so critical of the experiment, then may I ask why you are here?"

"To help."

"With what?" Alia knew she shouldn't be so direct, so blunt, that she should be more subtle, but she felt being frank was the best approach.

"Is that your question? I would have thought you'd ask who I was going to help. But, still, valid question. No harm in answering it. I'm going to help launch this experiment by solving the mystery of the handlink."

He still sounded cheerful. Alia was at a loss. He was critical of the experiment, but he was perfectly willing to make it come to fruition. He didn't act like a man terrified or cowed. She wondered what hold they had over him. It occurred to her that perhaps they didn't have one at all. But if that were the case, why would he be here?

"Are you progressing well?" she asked, hoping his face would fall, that he'd tell her, no, he was actually having a fair bit of trouble.

Instead, he grinned. "Oh, yes!"

She couldn't hide the shock from her face, but she managed a smile. "That's excellent, then." She wondered what he wanted but didn't dare ask, because that was an answer they needed to know or she wouldn't be having this conversation in the first place.

The grin faded at her words. "It'll work, you know," he informed her quietly. "In you go, destroy history, and out you come."

Destroy history. If that's how he saw it, why was he helping? "It'll be all the better in the end," she said instead.

"Will it? I'm not so sure. Whoever you leap into, Alia—you'll be touching their lives. They won't rid themselves of the mark you leave on them. The stain. And you'll be the one doing it, no matter whose aura you wear. They'll suffer the consequences of your actions, ones they'd avoided the first time through."

"It won't just be me," she pointed out stiffly. "There will be others."

The Doctor shook his head. "Not compatible with this technology. Sorry." He didn't look sorry. He looked pleased. For a brief moment, she wondered if he was lying and that their technology was compatible with more than one leaper at a time, but then she dismissed it. He'd chosen his side, willingly and cheerfully, and regardless of his reasons, he was supporting it. They had enough other scientists on staff to support his words, anyhow. If he was lying, they'd find out, and he'd pay the price.

"Then why do you suppose I'll have the honour of being chosen?"

The Doctor seemed to wince a bit at her words. "It's, ah, not exactly what I'd call an honour." He paused, looking rather sad. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I'm the reason they chose you, I think. Because they think you're the reason I came here."

"I've never met you before in my life," Alia replied, managing to hide how startled she was. "Why would they think that?"

"Same reason they arranged for this little meeting of ours," the Doctor answered. "Because I was looking at your file. They think I'll tell you something I haven't told them. I haven't, yet. At least, not anything they wouldn't find out for themselves." He stopped, looking at her carefully. "You always have a choice. You might not think it, but you have the strength to make the right choice. I know you do."

"I hardly think we've been acquainted long enough for you to make judgements on my character," Alia said sharply, unnerved.

He smiled at her. Reaching out with his left hand, he touched her forehead, in a place where she'd thought the scar was hidden by her hairline. He then touched his right hand. "Just because we've been marked," he said, "doesn't mean we have to give up." The smile became a bright grin. "I certainly haven't. Without a fight? Nah! No fun in that. Especially when I'm so close. Takes a bit longer, given the tools I have to work with, but I don't think I've missed anything yet."

"I hope not." Any mistake on his part would cost her her life, if she were really the one chosen for the first test. Of course, he had no reason to lie, and she had been scheduled for it. She had simply hoped it wouldn't stand, given what had happened to Dr. Fletcher.

"Three days," the Doctor said. "That's about all I should need. Provided everything's like I think it is. I'll take my time checking it over." He paused again before continuing in a more serious tone, "Just remember, nothing's forever. There's always hope. And there's always good with the bad. There's a balance, and while it may seem to tip one way or the other from time to time, I haven't seen it completely overturned, not without one scrap of the other side struggling to hold on and gain a foothold. And I've seen quite a lot in my time." His eyes strayed away from her face, but she doubted he was seeing his reflection elsewhere; he was too caught up in his own thoughts.

The Doctor turned so suddenly that Alia wondered, if only for a second, if he was going to have a fit. They induced them sometimes, with their so-called monitoring chips. But he didn't; his attention was simply caught by the opening door. "Oh," he said, not sounding very surprised. "Looks like time's up. And I hardly had a chance to say anything to you." He grinned. She thought that perhaps he was joking, but if she took into account how much of worth he had actually said, she found the statement to be quite true. "Hopefully we'll have time for another little chat sometime, yeah? Preferably somewhere private." A pause. "Still, it was good to finally meet you, Alia." He shook her hand again, and then he was gone.

She stood alone in the Mirror Room for a moment, puzzling over the entire encounter, but she couldn't make sense of it. She couldn't make any sense of the mysterious Doctor Smith, either. Zoey's short temper with her this past week suddenly made a lot more sense, though. Not only did the Doctor strike her as someone who could evade almost any question put to him if he put his mind to it, but he also didn't seem like the sort with overly loose morals. Suppressing a smile, Alia left the Mirror Room with a touch more confidence than she'd had upon entering it.

"What do you think?"

Zoey glanced at Thames. "He's a better actor than I'd anticipated."

Thames raised an eyebrow. "Meaning?"

"He confirmed what we knew, but what he told Alia is what he told us. He didn't outright admit to being here for her." Zoey paused. "But I'd still say he's wielding a double-edged sword. As happy as he seems to be with working here, and as good as his work seems to be, he looks like he'd rather sabotage the entire experiment than spend another hour at it. Even Alia picked up on that."

"So why not take him down to the Holding Chamber and teach him a lesson?"

Zoey glared at him. "Because he hasn't tried anything yet. Lothos is screening every move that man makes, and he hasn't done anything against us." Thames looked like he was about to repeat his question, but she silenced him with a look, adding. "Lothos predicts that he is close to finishing. I don't want any delays."

"He says he'll be done in three days," Thames noted, nodding at the screen where Dr. Smith was still babbling away.

Zoey smiled. "Excellent. I'll hold him to it. Open the door. I'll escort Alia back to her chamber. You can make sure that Dr. Smith resumes his work."

"I want to check his chip," Thames called after her. "To see if it's functioning properly."

Zoey reappeared at the door, looking annoyed. "Then check it. Don't bother me with that." She read Thames's look and rolled her eyes. "Very well, then. Take him for a short stint in the Holding Chamber for all I care. Just leave enough intact for him to finish his work on time."

Grinning like the cat who'd gotten the cream, Thames waited until the monitor read that Alia had left the Reflection Chamber, sealed it again, and went to catch up with the ill-fated Dr. Smith.

It wasn't the worst six hours the Doctor had lived through, but it definitely wasn't the best.

He was just glad he'd set their infernal chip to react as they would have expected.

He spit the blood out of his mouth and wondered vaguely if he had a water bottle in one of his pockets to rinse out his mouth. He'd gotten a pocket flask from someone once. He couldn't remember who at the moment, which irked him, but he was mentally as well as physically exhausted. Part of it was his fault; he hadn't been sleeping the past few days. Night, or at least when they dimmed the lights in the cell they'd given him, was the only time he'd had to examine the parallel. It was the only time they weren't watching him. Oh, they tracked him, but he could relax enough to feign sleep and then set out to mentally examine the parallel.

It was enough of a tricky process as it was. Mentally draining, but his body had a chance to rest. If he didn't need to be so focused during the day, he could do what he normally did when he wasn't rushing about: resting part of his brain at a time. He wasn't inclined to mention this to his companions, however. Martha had caught him at it once during their recent time in 1969 and berated him for daydreaming, and he'd been foolish enough to correct her, just partly, and by the time he'd finished his explanations—or excuses, as she'd put it—she'd been all set for teasing him, saying he'd probably never had a good night's sleep in his life.

He had, of course. It wasn't like he was incapable of sleeping like humans. It was just better to be prepared, that's all.

And sometimes, most notably early on in his ninth regeneration, he'd spent days in blessed oblivion.

And there had been other times when he'd been too fearful to leave himself vulnerable. Also early on in his ninth regeneration, and also for long stretches of time.

He could always use the rest of his drinking water, he supposed. He didn't have much. He'd rationed it as best he could, and only had a swallow or so left now, but it would get the taste out of his mouth. He didn't think he could stomach swallowing much more bloody saliva.

He was dreadfully thirsty, though. And his throat was still a bit raw. His body ached. Tired as he was, he wasn't sure if he could trust himself to fall asleep. But if he didn't get some, he'd collapse tomorrow. And he doubted they'd be very happy with him after that. But he couldn't afford a lapse anyway; he needed to monitor the progress on the handlink. He'd had enough trouble wrangling the lead position, and he couldn't lose it, not when he was so close to finishing.

He debated his options. He could force himself to sleep. Trouble was, he may not wake up when he needed to. Or, if matters became worse, he'd slip into a healing coma, and then he'd be in for it. No, he was better off trying to sleep normally. He just had to focus on something else, block out the pain as best he could, and rest.

The Doctor swished his mouth with a few precious drops of water before draining the rest of his cup.

He'd feel more chipper in the morning. Or at least by the time they turned the lights up again.