He ran hurriedly through the long, white corridors, his long legs carrying him with ease, though it did make it difficult to make sharp turns. He came to the end of one very long hall and threw open the door at the end and burst into the room.

Three scientists were standing around in hazmat suits, hovering over a small metal table where some gooey substance had been placed on a tray. It was obvious they had been poking and prodding at it in an attempt to determine what it was, because it appeared to be leaking in some places, small pools of clear goo forming around it on the tray.

"Hey! What are you doing?" one of the scientists asked in surprise as the tall, skinny man entered the room.

Ignoring the three scientists, he crossed the room in an instant and pushed the two scientists nearest him aside, looking down at the tray with a look of pity and alarm. His expression changed in a flash, suddenly becoming angry.

"Sir, you can't be in here," one of the scientists protested again, looking around at her colleagues in concern. She obviously didn't like the fact that he had walked in without a suit; instead donning a black dress jacket, a blue shirt, black slacks and red converse.

"What have you done?" he said, jaw tight. He turned and looked at three scientists angrily. "Didn't you hear it screaming?"

One of the scientists slunk over to the far wall and pressed a button on an intercom and spoke into it. "Hey, can someone get Mr. Tyler down to Section D? Room 12."

"Sir, could you please lea-" one of the scientists tried to say.

"Doctor Smith," he said.

"Sorry?"

"Doctor James Smith," he said, then pulled his credentials from one of the pockets of his jacket and showed it to each of them. He put it away and then leaned over the pile of goo, face drawn with worry. "Oh, what have they done to you?"

"We've been trying to determine what it is," the female scientist explained.

"Yes, I can see that," James snapped. "And you've hurt it. Badly."

"Hurt it?"

"Yes, it's alive. Didn't you notice? Or were you too busy trying to get samples?" James growled angrily. He looked around, grabbed a container of some clear substance and then glanced up at one of the scientists.

"You, what's your name?"

"Niles."

"Where's water?"

"Huh?"

"Water. I need water. A cup will do. Now!" James shouted impatiently and Niles quickly ran out of the room to fetch water.

James opened the container he had grabbed and dipped his fingers in it, pulling out the clear gel. He carefully began lathering it onto the jello-like alien.

"What are your names?" he asked, not looking up from his work.

The two scientists glanced at each other nervously.

"I'm Doctor Jenna Warrens and this is Doctor Lance Thompson."

James nodded in acknowledgement, eyes still focused on the gelatinous creature as he put more and more of the goo on its surface. "Jenna, on floor 3, room 17, there's a table at the far end of the room. It's got lots of vials. I need you to bring me the blue one. Lance, I need a packet of plain Jell-o. And I need it now."

The two nodded and darted off to find what he needed.

Niles returned shortly with a cup of water. "Is it okay that it's from the water fountain down the hall?"

James snatched it from him and very slowly began to pour it over the gelatinous substance, brows knitted together in concentration.

The door to the room opened, but James kept his focus on his task until he'd poured two tablespoons of water onto the alien. He then straightened up and looked around, expecting either Jenna or Lance to have returned with what he'd asked for.

Pete Tyler stood there instead.

"Hello, James. What are you doing down here?" he asked calmly.

James felt heat flush his face as anger rose in him. Without a word, he stepped aside to show Pete the alien on the tray.

Pete glanced at it and then looked at James again. "And?"

"They were torturing it," James hissed angrily. "We agreed that all life forms were to be handled by me."

"There weren't any signs that it was alive," Niles protested.

"What, you mean it wasn't pink, fleshy, and stupid?" James snapped, glaring the young scientist down. "I heard it screaming... all the way from upstairs."

"It wasn't screaming," Niles said, turning to Pete imploringly. "We would've heard it."

Just then the two other scientists came into the room, carrying what each had been instructed to get.

James grabbed the blue vial and Jell-o and turned back to the gelatine alien.

He poured a little bit of the of the liquid from the vial on it then emptied the packet of Jell-o. Slowly, the holes and cuts created by the needles and scalpel began melding back together.

Pete and the three scientists all watched in fascination.

"You wouldn't have heard it scream because it was doing it on a psychic level," James explained, calming himself down slightly as he watched the alien heal. He looked at Pete. "I'll be taking this."

Pete nodded his assent.

James picked up the tray and then looked at the three scientists, who were staring at him in silent admiration. "Next time, check with me."

At their nods, he skirted them and walked out the door with the tray.

Pete followed, walking beside him.

"James."

"This could've been prevented," James said, looking down at the alien to make sure it was alright. It had completely healed and he could no longer hear its cries and whimpers of pain. "They just assumed."

"I know. I'll handle it," Pete replied. He put his hands in his pockets and then met James' eyes. "You're not making this easy, you know."

"Really? Oh, well I apologize. Sorry I have to drop what I'm doing every other week to stop your idiot scientists from creating black holes and blowing up the building and killing every unusual creature they come across," James snapped indignantly.

"You know that's not what I mean, James. You've turned down nearly every assignment I've given you, sabotaging others, disrupting research... Don't get me wrong, you're a genius. Smarter than a genius, but you're hopeless. It's a miracle if I can get you working on something."

"Half the things you ask me to make, you're not supposed to have," James said. "Not yet anyway."

"The teleport?"

"Not for another ten years."

"The nano-bodies?"

"Thirty-four."

"But you could make it," Pete said. "If you wanted to. You know how."

"I could, but I won't," James replied flatly. "Like I said, you're not supposed to have those things yet. When the time comes, I'll build it, but only then."

"See? Hopeless. What's the point of having you if we can't utilize your knowledge?" Pete asked.

They stopped at one of the dozens of doors lining the hallway, which Pete opened for James to step inside without having to jostle the tray.

They lab/office was filled to the brim with equipment, books, papers, containers and bottles of different liquids and other materials. A desk stood pressed up against the left wall, where books and boxes crowded it, leaving only a small path to get to the chair. A computer, keyboard and lamp sat on the desk's surface. On the other side of the room was a long counter that was stacked with various electronic items, materials, vials and papers.

Overall, the room was in disarray.

Pete looked around, frowning. "What have you been doing?"

James stepped over a collapsed pile of books and set the tray down on an open space on the counter, leaning down over the gelatinous creature and sending it thoughts of encouragement and comfort. He turned, looked around the room and shrugged. "I got busy."

"Doing what? You turned down every assignment I gave you this week," Pete said in exasperation.

"Just some research," James said dismissively.

Pete sighed, opened his mouth to speak, but stopped when a muffled ring filled the room. He sighed again and pulled out his cell phone. "Pete Tyler."

He paused and listened.

James watched him for a moment and then turned, leaning against the counter behind him and looking around. His office really was a mess, but he had meant it when he said he had been busy. He had been driving himself crazy trying to figure out how to make the little piece of TARDIS coral the Doctor had given him before he had left to grow faster. He wasn't sure he had the patience to wait twenty years, so he decided he would see if it was possible to make it grow more quickly.

So far, research pointed to no.

That wasn't the only thing he had been working on. Ever since he had generated, he had felt naked and he hadn't figured out why that was until the Doctor and Donna had dropped them off at Bad Wolf Bay.

He didn't have a sonic screwdriver.

He was so used to having it as a lightweight in his pocket that now he felt positively lopsided without it. In the two months that followed, he had endeavored to make himself one, but without a TARDIS to help, it had proved to be more difficult than he thought it would.

He was fairly certain it was almost finished. It needed a few test runs before he could be sure.

Pete finished his phone call and hung up, sliding his cell back into its case on his belt. He put his hands on his hips and looked at James. "Well, we've got a problem..."

James' brows rose with interest. "Oh?"

Pete nodded. "Something's happened. And it looks like it might be a rip in the universe," he said.

James blinked. "I'm sorry, what?"

"And someone just went through."

"In which direction? Coming or going?" James asked, standing up and crossing the room in three steps, ready to get going.

"Coming."

The rip had evidently opened right over a river. The police had been the first to arrive, having received several strange calls about a man falling out of the sky and into the water below. Spectators had lined the bridge, watching as the police pulled forth a tall man from the freezing February water.

The ambulance and Torchwood vehicles arrived shortly after.

James and Pete got out of the first vehicle, followed by several dozen uniformed Torchwood agents. They immediately spread out and began forming a wider perimeter, getting the cooperation of the police officers and paramedics who had arrived and trying to disperse the crowd that had formed.

Pete, James, a handful of scientists, and a few agents made a beeline for the man who had come through the tear.

He was tall, a little paler than most and had an athletic build (not the kind that weight lifts, but more the kind that could run fast and fight hard if the need arose). He had dark brown hair, small, intense amber eyes, sharp features and was drenched. His long black coat and black suit clung to his skin and dripped rivulets of water into his cowboy boots. He looked up as the small group approached him, running a hand through his hair and shaking it out.

James immediately went to the bridge, standing so that he was level with where the tear was. It wasn't visible, but he could feel a tension in the air where it had formed. His skin tingled and the hair on the back of his neck stood up. Pulling out the makeshift sonic screwdriver from his pocket (he had decided that this was a perfect opportunity to test it out) he pointed it at the tear, the little blue light on the end of the metal tube lighting up and buzzing.

It did fine for the whole of two seconds and then started whining and whistling, the light flickering on and off. James sighed and hit it a few times against his palm, tried again, but to no avail.

"Is that a sonic?"

James turned to see the man watching him with an interested expression. Pete and the Torchwood agents were now also watching him, and Pete didn't seem too pleased.

James blinked, looked at the sonic and then back at the man with a deer in the headlights expression.

"What, this? Um, well, it's a... an um... well, it's..."

"You've been building a sonic screwdriver?" Pete asked, jaw tight as he tried to mask his anger.

The man looked between James and Pete and then focused on Pete. "Not to interrupt the argument I mistakenly sparked, but haven't you got more important things to tend to, Mr. Tyler?"

Pete turned to give him a suspicious glare. "Who are you?"

"Morgan. Morgan Gates," the man said, formally extending his hand. "And you're Pete Tyler, head of the Torchwood Institute of this universe."

Pete glared at the hand, but shook it nonetheless. "How do you know that?"

"I have my resources," Morgan replied.

"Well, for your sake, I'd tell me all about them," Pete said threateningly.

Morgan chuckled. "I'm not here to cause trouble, Mr. Tyler," he assured him, glanced off towards a group of scientists, frowned, and raised his voice to address them, "Oh, and I wouldn't fuss with that rip, if I were you. It's perfectly stable and completely natural. It will close in twenty-four hours all on its own."

The scientists looked at him and then at Pete for confirmation.

Pete looked flummoxed.

James decided to save him. The sonic screwdriver might have died on him, but it had given him the information he needed. He turned to the waiting scientists. "He's right. It'll close. Best just to make sure no one messes with it."

They nodded, packed their equipment and headed back to their vans.

James looked around to find Morgan staring intensely at him.

Pete was staring as well. "You sure?"

James flipped the sonic in the air and caught it again. "It may be a pile of junk, but it worked just fine," he said, then grinned. "Because I'm just that clever."

"Must be. That's very high-tech equipment," Morgan remarked admiringly.

He turned his attention back to Pete. "Mr. Tyler, I am aware that you have questions for me, and I am more than willing to answer them, but I'm afraid my limbs are going to start falling off my body if I stay outside any longer. Perhaps we could take this conversation elsewhere? Preferably somewhere warmer, if it's all the same."

James thought Pete was going to protest, but he instead led Morgan to one of the vans.

James followed, depositing the sonic screwdriver into his pocket, but before he got in, Pete stopped him, shutting the door so that Morgan couldn't overhear their conversation.

"Why didn't you tell me about the sonic?"

James had been afraid of this. He sighed and set his jaw resolutely. "What if I had? You would have told me to give it to you and I would have told you no. You can't have this kind of technology yet."

"But you can?"

James felt anger rush up into his chest. It wasn't what he said. It was what he was implying in that sentence; he wasn't the Doctor anymore. He didn't get to make those kinds of decisions. Pete had been kind and helpful since the Doctor had dropped him and Rose off at Bad Wolf Bay, but something had been different. James could feel it and slowly had begun to see what it was.

He saw him as some cheap version of the real thing. James warded off the unsavory replies that entered his mind and fought to keep his voice even and calm.

"Yes."

Pete looked like he was ready to argue the fact, but stopped when Morgan knocked on the window of the van.

Pete scowled, glanced at James and then got into the van without another word.

James watched him, still working to keep his emotions in check.

He got into a different vehicle.