Author's Notes: I do not own Doctor Who, the Duplicate Doctor, Donna, Torchwood, etc. Thank you everyone for reading and reviewing the last chapter and following, it was so great. I hope you enjoy this next chapter and please let me know what you think.

Donna Noble, all powerful Chaorwoman and CEO of the giant Noble Corporation, was distracted.

She really wanted a baby.

When she was in her thirties, she had decided she didn't want to fall into the cliche of the woman who focuses on her career so that when she finally gets around to having a baby she can't, so she had demanded some children out of Ethan in the abrasive way she sometimes had and had mistaken his apathy towards the question for eagerness. She had no regrets about it, she got her two gorgeous children out of it but as soon as they were born, even though she wasn't ready to face the fact that her marriage was a failure, she knew Ethan was not the father she wanted for her children. Lance had been good with the kids, but that's probably because he was trying to cover up his embezzlement. Shawn was awkward around them, but he split anyway.

Then there had been John. He was so easy with them, so willing to jump in. She discovered that he had been a father or rather had the memories of being a father. She broached the baby subject carefully, not wanting to scare him off. He had responded enthusiastically, they didn't work out specifics right away, but later in the engagement they had started all out trying.

Frankly, she was a little annoyed with Torchwood for having taken him away when they had ample opportunity to continue trying while Josh and Ella were with their dad. That had blown up, but still. She supposed on their honeymoon they could go blissfully uniterrupted for two weeks.

She had found another fertility expert after the S&M pirate fetish lady, a Doctor Kapoor, who wore khakis and a peach jumper. She had confirmed that all things were in good working order and hadn't needed a general anesthetic to do it. Now, in every spare minute all she could think about was having another baby. What it would be like to hold a tiny, wriggling little newborn. She went back and forth on its appearance: the girl version was all Donna with John's eyes and the boy version was all his dad with crazy brown hair on his little head. She imagined what it would be like to cuddle them and sing to them. Josh and Ella would have to be worked on, Ella might be more easily persuaded if she had a cute baby sister she could help dress up. Josh, well... Josh would have to be worked on.

She had actually caught herself in a baby shop and had walked away with their catalog, stopping herself from actually buying. She had been browsing baby websites in between appointments and had bought a book of baby names. She was starting to be afraid that if she had to wait around much longer she would turn into a single-minded baby monster the way Nerys had when she was going through fertility treatments until Donna had finally told her she was becoming a madwoman.

So, here she was, browsing websites, trying to decide if she wanted the nursery to be pink or blue themed or if she wanted to get the cream set that looked so elegant, but she figured would be impossible to keep clean. Then she thought maybe she could buy multiples of everything and just get a full-time maid. She supposed that would work, if John was going to take time off work to look after the baby, it would only be fair. The poor man was so hopeless with housework, Donna supposed it wouldn't be right to leave him alone and defenseless.

A man looking after a baby. Now that Donna had to see.

Then the phone rang.

Humans often talked about having their lives flash before their eyes when they were about to die. This didn't occur to John as he watched over nine hundred years of his and the Doctor's life go by him.

Then all of a sudden he wasn't in the Doctor's life, he was in his own, the day he had fallen over the edge of the ferry, floating in the rough, cold sea wondering what the hell went wrong, feeling more alone and more insignificant than he ever had.

Then he strangely would blink back into consciousness. The first time was in the ambulance with the paramedics and Jack in the back. He bolted upright and screamed in pain, then they wrestled him back down and he found the allure of closing his eyes too much to resist.

And there he was floating in the sea, except now he wasn't just adrift in the waves, he was floating past things, past Gallifrey. It had the absentminded logic of a dream with John wondering how he had never noticed that the Citadel had an oceanfront view. Floating past the hills, past he and the Master running through red hills.

Then he saw only white in front of him and it took him a minute to come to terms with the fact that was because he was staring at ceiling tiles. He was strapped down.

"Mr. Smith," he heard a familiar voice say. "Mr. Smith?"

He looked to the side and there was Adeola. Or was it Martha? She had a doctor's coat on...

"Martha? What are you doing here? You can't breach the wall between realities..."

She looked at him quizzically. "How did you know my name?"

"Martha, I'm so sorry..."

She frowned even more. "Mr. Smith, try not to speak. You've been shot, okay? We're going to stabilize you and take you to surgery."

He took a deep breath and he was floating again, Martha's voice echoing somewhere above him, promising they would call his next of kin. That seemed silly, he could see them as he floated past...

He floated past leaving Gallifrey, the TARDIS, so many lives, they seemed to be moving faster like a blur and finally he floated ashore and he realized he had washed up at Bad Wolf Bay.

The TARDIS was leaving, like it had before.

"Get back here!," he shouted. "Come back!"

John came to, spotting a glint of red hair.

His mouth was dry, he was finding it difficult to say anything as he listened.

"Do you think you got everything, though?," he heard Donna ask. "What about sepsis?"

The man in surgical scrubs stiffened. "What do you know about sepsis?"

"What? I can't bloody read? My fiance gets shot and you don't think I'll go on the Internet? Armor piercing bullets, they leave little bits of shrapnel, not surprisingly they're not sterile, ergo sepsis. So, let's make sure all those bits are out of John, why don't we? What about another CT to check?"

"Well, that's costly and unnecessary-"

"Oh, I hate the bloody NHS. I'll pay for whatever it bloody is."

"That's not how it works, Ms. Noble."

Even only half aware of what was going on, John could tell Donna was taking that as a personal challenge. "Well, we'll see, won't we?"

"Donna..."

"Sweetheart." Donna rushed over and leaned down. "I'm right here, John."

"What? Why aren't you at work?"

She narrowed her gaze at him. "John, you've been shot, you git." She ran her fingers through his hair. "It's Thursday."

"Thursday?"

"You've been in and out of consciousness, Mr. Smith," said the doctor. "You had a slight post-surgical infection."

"Slight, he says," Donna said with a shake of her head. "Slight. Huge fever. Near death." She leaned in. "Don't worry. I'm getting you in a private ward as soon as possible."

John sat up.

"John, what are you doing?," exclaimed Donna.

"I need to talk to Pete."

"Mr. Smith, you shouldn't move from your bed," said the Doctor.

"You need to stay in your bloody bed," said Donna putting a firm hand on his chest.

"The Master. His body." John took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He couldn't keep up with his own thoughts. "I have to take care of it."

"I think they probably have people for that, John," said Donna.

"No, it's not like that, I have to take care of it."

"If it's that important to you, I'll ring Pete Tyler and he can come here, but you have to stay in bed or you'll never get well, will you?"

John laid back down.

Donna, true to her word, got John transferred to a room in the private unit first order of business the next day. Apparently, being Donna Noble's soon to be husband had some perks other than the perks John had already enjoyed. Donna returned early the next morning with a carrier bag full of creature comforts: biscuits, decent body gel, hair product, Cadbury flakes courtesy of Josh and a card Ella made herself.

"Did you happen to ring Pete Tyler?," asked John.

"I did and I got a secretary both times," said Donna. She sat down on the edge of the bed. "I'm sure someone's taken care of it."

"Donna," he sighed, he still wasn't himself, "I've told you how a Time Lord can regenerate, right?"

"Yeah?"

"There are thousands of species who would love to get their hands on that sort of knowledge, I'm not convinced Torchwood is excluded."

"You don't know that."

"Seriously, Donna, they let Rose Tyler have a Dimension Cannon, I don't know that I entirely trust their judgment."

"What's a Dimension Cannon?"

"A device that allows you to jump from one universe to the other with no rhyme or reason weakening the walls between realities eventually leading to the end of all things."

Donna paused, considering that. "Has she been to university?"

"No."

"Shouldn't there be some kind of licensing exam for that sort of thing?"

"You would think."

"I'm seeing your point." She paused. "Listen, about the wedding... I think we should postpone."

"No!"

"John, you've been shot. You're in hospital. You weren't even conscious for the better part of three days."

"So?"

"I want you to be better. I don't care about the wedding. Well, sort of. I like the cake, but I suppose we can just keep that in the kitchen. And the dress, I do look awfully good in that dress but I can always dye it or wear it to the shops." She smiled at him, only strengthening John's resolve.

"Donna Noble, three weeks from now, I am marrying you. I don't care if you have to wheel me up to the altar."

Donna raised an eyebrow at him. "What about the honeymoon?"

"I'll rally," John said decisively.

"You had better," said Donna. "I didn't book the biggest honeymoon suite in all of Morocco to watch you drool into your pillow. Mind you, I am getting to like the stubble look on you." She brushed her hand across his cheek. "Very sexy. The gunshot wound, not so sexy."

"Women love scars."

Donna shook her head. "Not this one. I like my men without holes in them."

The day saw a parade of Torchwood coworkers come by, later followed by Josh and Ella after school with more drawings that Donna taped up to the wall of the room. Pete Tyler finally arrived as the sun was setting.

"Jackie wanted to know if you got the flowers," said Pete.

"Oh, yeah. Tell her thanks. Listen, it's about the Master's body." He was anxious to get his point across.

"What about it?"

John narrowed his gaze at him. "You need to destroy it, otherwise there are species who will tear apart this planet to get it, not to mention I don't think the Time Lords themselves are probably too keen on the idea of one of their own being dissected."

"Didn't Jack tell you they were in seclusion?," he said avoiding eye contact.

"That doesn't mean they can't come out."

"They cast him aside, what do they care? What do you care?"

"Pete, you have to let me take care of the body."

Pete shook his head. "No, I'm sorry. It's already been handed over to his wife."

John knew Pete was lying through his teeth with that Cheshire grin.

"Right. Of course," said Pete. He looked at his watch. "Well, then, I had better be going. Do call if you need anything."

"I will."

"Feel better."

Pete left, exchanging pleasantries with Donna as he passed her in the doorway. Donna continued in the room to sit on the bed.

"So, he just lied to you, didn't he?," she asked.

"How did you know?"

She shook her head. "Pete Tyler is the worst liar I've ever met. Played him on the poker table at a charity casino night once, I mopped the floor with him." She paused. "This thing with the body. Is it really as dangerous as you say?"

"Yes."

Donna nodded. "Okay, I'm in."

John stayed in hospital recuperating until the day of the Master/Harry Saxon's funeral. Donna drove John to Bucklebury for the funeral. It seemed to have drawn quite a group, somehow Harry was well-liked in the community. The service was held inside the local church and the Parson did a simple, bland eulogy and readings before the Bucklebury Men's Show Choir began their memorial mashup of "I Can't Decide" and "Wind Beneath My Wings."

Donna leaned over to whisper in John's ear. "I'm not following this at all."

"You had to know him. It almost makes sense."

They sat through the rest of the performance and then the end of the service. John walked with Donna out to follow the procession and he noticed a familiar figure. She was blonde, with delicate features, a waif-ish figure and a quiet smile as she comforted Lucy Saxon. John thought he must have been seeing things, but then he noticed the psychic paper in her hand as she showed it to the Parson.

She was a Time Lady.

She was a Time Lady he knew.

Donna and John got back in the Land Rover.

"So, they buried him? Is that the end of it?," asked Donna.

John shook his head. "No. Even if they did bury him, the body has to be burned."

"So, what? You want to dig up a grave?"

"Uh..."

"Oh, God, you do."

"I can do this on my own, Donna."

"No," Donna said firmly. "But you need rest first. You're not digging up anything with that hole in you."

"They've stitched it up!"

Donna shot him a look that said protest was useless.

That night, after dusk and while Donna thought he was resting, John took the Land Rover and returned to the cemetery and walked with his cane to the plot where they had laid Harold Saxon/the Master to rest.

And the Time Lady was there, holding a spade.

She smiled.

"So, do you want to tell me who you are? And why you look like my dad?"

John, stood there, completely blown away.

"It's you," he said. "It's really you."

"And you are?," she said.

"I'm just John Smith."

She shook her head. "No. I don't think so."

He grimaced. "I'm the result of a Human Time Lord metacrisis. I have the Doctor's memories, but one heart. I can't regenerate, I can't even see time anymore."

"Doesn't explain what you're doing here."

"I'm from another universe. The Doctor of that universe left me here, it's a long story."

She pot down the spade and stepped forward, close enough to touch John. "Can you show me?"

"No, I can't." He groaned, frustrated at his lack of telepathic ability. "Someone's brain was about to burn up, there was a baby involved and I got left on the beach with his ex-girlfriend. Is that enough? You were always so full of questions, ever since you were a little girl, your first word was why?"

She looked taken aback. "You really do know me."

"I know a version of you. That's all, Mayantha."

"Okay, John. What are you doing here?"

"Same as you, I would think."

"The High Council has sent me on a mission to dispose of the Master's body."

"All by yourself?"

"They're not willing to expend a lot of energy on it."

"Same as usual then. Still, I was told the Time Lords were in seclusion. I'm surprised your father let you come on your own."

"He had to. He can't leave Gallifrey for a long time."

"Your brothers couldn't come along?"

She laughed. "All eight were suddenly busy!"

"Eight?," John said with surprise. "And your seven sisters?," he jested.

"Just one sister. She's too young, only fifteen."

"At the Academy, then?"

"Not quite." She nodded at the plot. "Why don't I get digging before the ground hardens? You, have a seat."

"I can help."

She shook her head and pointed at his abdomen. "It seems like a recent wound and I can tell it hurts. I've got this."

John sat and reluctantly watched as Mayantha went to work with the spade. He tried to help but she reminded him that with her superior Time Lady strength it was practically no work at all for her.

"Mayantha, can I ask? What's the Silence?"

She paused in her digging, then resumed, taking her frustration out on the dirt. "The Silence is a gang of thugs, hellbent on taking over the universe. We were at war for forty-five years, probably years before that."

"A Time War then?"

"Yes, and they play dirty. The War Council is meant to be developing a strategy, that's the reason for our seclusion."

"What happened before that?"

"What's the best way to anger the Oncoming Storm?" She shoveled again and hit concrete. "There we are."

John eased his way down into the pit, groaning at his wound. Donna would kill him if he undid any stitches. Mayantha took out her sonic lipstick and set it against the concrete. It made a screeching noise and the concrete burst. John leaned over and opened the walnut casket to find bags of dirt.

"Well, then, as we thought," said John.

Mayantha nodded. "Was it your people? Torchwood?"

"I'm afraid so."

They walked back to the car park and stopped outside a red phone box.

"There was a pub down the road, we could strategize."

Mayantha motioned at the phone box. "Or we could go in here. Come on."

John followed Mayantha into the phone box, which was of course a TARDIS. It seemed smaller somehow, but the interior was all sleek and chromed coral. The console sparkled with newness.

"It's a Type 200 X," explained Mayantha, "just made for one. Not as big as your old Type 40, but then again I didn't have to steal it."

John motioned at a pot of TARDIS coral in the middle. "What's that for?"

"Oh, that's my own experiment. I've been working on it since the Academy. We have teams that cultivate TARDISes, was it the same in your universe?"

"Yes."

"Well, the TARDIS is a sentient thing, it bonds to its inhabitants, but what if you could bond the TARDIS at the neophyte stage to a specific operator? What would happen then?"

"You're growing a custom TARDIS?"

Mayantha nodded. "That's the idea. I'm trying to get someone at the Science Ministry to listen, but they want results and I have to wait for those."

John couldn't help but have pride in the young woman, even though he knew it was completely nonsensical. "I think it's brilliant."

"So, Torchwood? Do you think they're under the influence of the Silence?"

"Could that happen?," asked John.

"The Silence have these creatures, nobody can remember them after they've seen them, not even Time Lords and they influenced the human race through post-hypnotic suggestion for thousands of years and the Doctor stopped all that. That's the first we know about them, but we think they've been at war with us even longer."

"So, they're everywhere and I won't even know if I've seen one."

"Dad resorted to hashmarks on his arm with a marker."

"I'll have to keep a marker around."

"The Silence have wanted to get their hands on a Time Lord forever."

"Do you think they had the Master?"

"They need someone they can control. The Master doesn't fit that description."

"Then don't you run a risk being out here?"

"They want someone they can brainwash from birth." Her gaze turned down.

"Mayantha, tell me, who did they take?"

"First, was the daughter of a companion, conceived in the vortex. Second, was my sister."

"She wasn't born on Gallifrey?"

"No, they took her from Gallifrey. Dad spent twenty years trying to find her and found a scared six year old being raised by monsters. They didn't understand Time Lord brains, they thought they could brainwash a little one."

"Not understanding the mother's residual psychic field." John thought it through, such a child almost certainly would have been driven mad.

"Yeah." Mayantha swallowed.

"You don't have to talk about it anymore."

Mayantha nodded and then forced a smile. "So, how do we get into Torchwood?"

John checked his watch. "I need to be getting home. Donna will have realized I'm gone by now and want to kill me."

"Oh," said Mayantha. "Where should I meet you then?"

"You're just going to be all alone out here?," asked John.

"What? Should I check in to a hotel?"

"No, you just must feel lonely, the only Time Lord on the outside."

She shook her head. "I'm fine. It's just temporary."

"You're not fine. I bet you can't sleep."

"I'll sleep when I'm home."

John walked over. "I know it's not the same, but I'd like you to stay with my family and I. Ever stayed with humans?"

"No," she admitted.

"It's interesting. Lot of running around, a lot of telly. Cakes with edible ball bearings. You'll have fun."