He had felt him the moment he arrived. Like a spark from two wires suddenly being connected. It had been small at first, but as he concentrated harder on the connection, it became more clear. At the first signs of it, he had dropped what he had been doing, - which had been looking for Jack's mysterious distortion- made a few phone calls, and got the TARDIS going.

"Impossible," he kept muttering to himself as he flipped switches and swiveled the glass ball on the console. "It's not possible. He can't be here. It's impossible. It's impossible!"

The connection grew stronger and stronger and for some reason, he felt fear slowly creeping into his hearts. He thought he could hear muffled voices, and felt a distinct, prodding pressure on his shoulder.

"No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no," he mumbled like a chant as he put coordinates into the TARDIS controls. The whirring and wheezing as the TARDIS parked herself filled his ears twice over, one a soft echo.

The TARDIS became silent and the Doctor glanced over at the doors hesitantly. Sighing and straightening his bow-tie, he went to the doors, paused and then opened them wide.

And found himself facing a wall. He blinked for a moment, then laughed.

"Oops," he said, realizing he had parked outside of the building he had intended to land in. Not only that, but he had put the TARDIS against the wall.

He hopped over to the controls, adjusted the settings slightly and turned it around so that he could get out.

This done, he stepped out of the TARDIS, shut the door behind him and then turned to the doors of the warehouse. He stood there for a moment and noticed that the voices he had been hearing whispering in the back of his mind had suddenly gone quiet. His presence was known, so there was no point in standing about. Nodding his head in a reassuring gesture to himself, he flung the door open and sauntered inside, thumbing his suspenders.

"Excuse me!" he called. "Hello!"

He walked into a huge bunker, filled with barrels, two armored vehicles, and seven men. Two of them were up in small alcoves at the corners of the building, holding sniper rifles with little red dots that danced over his chest. At the center of the room stood five men. One stood off to the side, gun pointed at him. Two others stood like guard dogs beside the two in the center.

Mr. Boots stood with his hand clamped tightly on the shoulder of the Meta-crisis, who was sitting on a chair looking quite miffed.

Mr. Boots held a gun loosely at his head.

The Doctor hadn't anticipated the onslaught of emotions that now flooded over him and he was fairly certain most of them weren't his own.

Anger. There was a lot of that, some of it infused with his own. There was shame, too. Confusion, resentment, bitterness... loneliness. That one hit him like a punch in the face and he very nearly staggered. His own emotions merged with those of the Meta-crisis, alarmingly overwhelming and he wasn't sure if he was going to be able to continue standing.

The Meta-crisis must have picked up on it -or had been feeling it, too- because the emotions began to recede and he could see the Meta-crisis' eyes close in concentration, brows knitted together with effort as he collected his thoughts and locked them up in his mind.

Alone in his head once more, the Doctor swallowed down his own emotions, looked around the room at the armed men and took a step forward.

"You have my hand. I'd like him back."

The room was quiet, all eyes (and most of the guns) trained on him.

"Are you alright, John?" the Doctor asked, purely for Mr. Boots' benefit.

"I go by James. And I'm not allowed to-" he stopped mid-sentence when Mr. Boots pressed the gun to the side of his head forcefully.

The Doctor felt a small, but uncomfortable pressure on the side of his own head and tried not to wince.

"Quiet," Mr. Boots said.

The Doctor tried not to let himself be intimidated by the tone of Mr. Boots' voice; completely lacking in empathy. Or his eyes, which were severe and calculating.

Shark. The thought just popped unbidden into the Doctor's mind, but now that it was there, he could definitely see how Mr. Boots resembled one.

Mr. Boots suddenly glanced over at the computer sitting on the lone desk and frowned. He then returned his attention to the Doctor. "Try to talk telepathically to him again, and I will shoot him."

The Doctor gave him a puzzled look. "I didn't."

Mr. Boots looked down at James, who was doing his best to look everywhere else but at him.

Mr. Boots scowled, but again resumed his focus on the Doctor.

"Here is what is going to happen, Doctor. I'm going to give you three minutes to say whatever you like. Then I get one minute, during which time you will remain absolutely silent. Afterwards, I'm going to kill you and Doctor Smith gets to go home. Your time starts now."

The Doctor stared at him for a moment. "Wait, did it start immediately following or slightly after you said "now"? I'm a little confused. A hand gesture would've been helpful. Or perhaps you could've gotten a buzzer. No, really, when did it start? Those three mili-seconds might be crucial. I might have something really important to say and not get to say it because you started the time after you said "now"."

"Two and half minutes," Mr. Boots said patiently, staring down at the watch on his wrist.

"And why do I get two more minutes than you? That doesn't seem fair. I think we should tally it out. I get one minute and you get one minute... but there's no way I could get all my talking done in one minute, so let's say three. And why are we the only two that get to talk? This situation is very uncomfortable and I'm sure James and your... henchmen? Cronies? Gang? Never mind. But I'm sure they have something to say. So, three for me, three for you, John, him, him, her, oops, I mean him, looked like a girl in the dark-"

"Minute and a half."

"Oh, and what about the people I brought? Do they get time?"

Mr. Boot's eyes shot up from the watch and then flashed towards the Doctor. "Excuse me?"

The Doctor looked at him innocently. "Well, if we're going to be tallying out time, and your henchmen get some, and John gets some and you and I get some, then I think the people I brought along should get some as well, but they probably have a lot more to say than I do, so I think everyone should get five min-"

"What people?" Mr. Boots asked, subconsciously tightening his grip on James' shoulder, who winced slightly at the pressure.

The Doctor felt it, too, but just twisted his head a little as though he had a crick and asked, "How did you find out about James? Only my closest friends know he exists."

"Fifty seconds," Mr. Boots said, resuming his countdown, although now his amber eyes seemed to light up with a cold, angry flame.

"Do you know I looked you up?" the Doctor said, taking a step forward.

The five guns in the room all clicked as hammers were pulled back, but the Doctor wasn't in the least bit concerned about them.

"The Cowboy is a rubbish title. You don't even have a hat. But other than your silly name, do you know what I found out?"

Mr. Boots continued looking down at the watch, the gun in his hand still held steady at James' head.

"I found out who you're working for." The Doctor took another step forward, aware of the two reds dots on his chest and the five guns pointed at him, but he really wasn't interested in them at the moment. "And I know that they don't know they've hired you."

The anger in Mr. Boots' expression vanished for a brief second, revealing a moment of surprise, but he quickly recovered. "Twenty seconds."

"How do I know, you ask? Well, apparently a large sum of their money went missing along with some high-tech equipment. They couldn't trace it, but I could and found it went to you."

"Eight seconds."

"Well that just seemed rude to me," the Doctor continued, pulling a marker out of his pocket.

"Five."

"So do you know what I did?"

He popped the lid off the marker...

"One."

"I told them."

...and drew on his hand.

Mr. Boots looked up from his watch, no longer able to hide the surprise from his expression.

The Doctor looked down at his hand, smiled and then lifted it, palm out, for Mr. Boots to see.

There was a black line on it.

And Mr. Boots knew exactly what it meant. His eyes widened.

The room descended into chaos.

The appearance of the Silence had startled the armed gunmen enough to get them to start firing wildly, but they weren't very good shots. Bullets hit the walls and the floor, but virtually nothing else- lucky given that the barrels were explosives.

Mr. Boots looked around at the ensuing chaos, eyes bright with anger. Though he kept the gun level with James' head, he released his hold on his shoulder to hold up his hand and yell at his men to stop firing, but due to the deafeningly loud bangs from the guns going off, they couldn't hear him.

The Silence were sending out electric currents through wrinkled, long fingered hands at the gunmen, but their targets jumped aside with speedy precision, just barely getting out of the way in time.

The Doctor had immediately taken cover behind one of the barrels. It wasn't an ideal place to lie low, but he doubted they would blow themselves up to get to him, so he took his chances.

He shut his eyes and reached out to the Meta-crisis.

John, when I tell you, run to the TARDIS.

There was no answer.

A brief moment of panic took hold of him and he peeked out from behind the barrel to see what was going on.

The Meta-crisis had somehow got his hands on Mr. Boots' gun and now they were both struggling against each other for ownership of it, knocking over chairs and bumping into the desk, making the computer totter in its place.

The Doctor's arms burned and he realized the Meta-crisis was about to lose the battle. If Mr. Boots got the gun back, he might shoot him.

The Doctor wouldn't let that happen.

Taking in a quick breath, the Doctor jumped out from behind the barrel, threw his hands up into the air and, because it had worked the last time he'd said it, yelled.

"Look at me! I'm a target!"

All eyes fell on him.

James looked around as the Doctor flailed his arms in the air, shouting to get the attention of the room.

It took him a second to realize the opportunity the Doctor was trying to give him, but finally it snapped in his mind, and he decided not to waste it.

He turned back to Morgan, who was watching the Doctor with a hunter-like stare. Gathering up his strength, he gave Morgan a hard shove and pushed himself away from him, spinning around so that he could start running for the door.

And suddenly he was on the floor on his back, heart pounding in his chest. He felt afraid, but couldn't identify what had frightened him so much. He lay dazed for a moment, staring up at the roof, trying to figure out where seven seconds had gone and how he had ended up on the floor.

Among the bullets he could see flying over his head, several bolts of electricity zipped past as well, but he had no idea where they were coming from. He pushed himself up off the floor, careful to watch out for any wild electric bolts or bullets and looked around.

There were several spots around the room that he just couldn't remember looking at; no matter how hard he tried to focus on them, he would lose valuable seconds. Deciding it best to ignore these spots, he identified where each gunman was. They were all shooting, but not at the Doctor, apparently.

He searched the room again and spotted Morgan, who had abandoned screaming at his men.

In fact, he had elected to ignore them. His focus was now on James.

He was about to turn and run when he felt someone grab his wrist. He whirled, ready to throw a punch, but stopped himself upon seeing the Doctor.

"Time to run," the Doctor said.

They ran, ducking and dodging bullets and blue and white flashes of light as they went.

James glanced around for enemies nearby, but only managed to lose several more seconds.

The confusion was causing him to slow down, making the Doctor practically drag him.

"Look at the ground, John!" the Doctor yelled at him.

Suddenly they were in the far corner of the room, the door mere feet away and the Doctor panting tiredly beside him, pointing his sonic screwdriver around the room.

James winced, flexing his suddenly sore fist. He had lost fifteen seconds. He looked up, trying to figure out why they had stopped running and caught sight of Morgan raising his gun at the Doctor.

His eyes widened. "Doctor!"

Too late.

Morgan fired and the bullet zipped through the air, whipped past the Doctor's ear and landed neatly in the wall behind.

James and the Doctor flinched simultaneously and the Doctor quickly grabbed James' hand again.

They only had a short ways to run. The door was on the wall they were against, but it was one of the spots that James couldn't remember looking at.

He didn't have a chance to worry about it though, because suddenly he was standing outside, looking at the TARDIS doors.

The Doctor was behind him, sonic-ing the door to the bunker closed. When he finished, he moved James aside, opened the doors, and hurried inside.

James stopped at the door, looking around in confusion.

It looked like something out of Toys R Us.

"What have you done to the TARDIS?" James asked as he stepped up the ramp to watch the Doctor go over the controls, hurtling the TARDIS into the time vortex as quickly as he could.

They both jolted and James had to grab the railing to keep from flying off his feet. The TARDIS hummed and whirred, and James grinned from ear to ear.

"Blimey, I missed that sound," he said, looking over at the Doctor.

The Doctor was looking down at the controls, flipping a few switches and turning several knobs unnecessarily.

His smile faded into a frown.

The Doctor continued to circle the console, doing his best to ignore him. After a few uncomfortable minutes of this, he realized that acknowledging James was inevitable. The Doctor hesitated before finally looking up at him. "How'd you get here?"

"I jumped."

"Your universe is sealed off."

"We both know that's not completely true. You said that for Rose's benefit. Not mine," James said, his jaw stiffening as anger boiled up inside him.

"It could still take years to open a portal. Decades if done safely which is what I'm assuming happened. I would've noticed otherwise."

"I don't know how he did it," James said defensively.

The Doctor scowled. "You should have stayed there."

"You think I planned all of this?" James asked through gritted teeth. "I came because I thought our friends were in danger!"

"I take care of them! I always take care of them!" the Doctor shouted, taking several strides forward so that he and James were face to face.

James met his gaze. "Like Rose? Like me?"

The Doctor glared at him, turned around and started working at the console again.

James watched him, taking a few deep breaths to calm himself down. As the Doctor made a second circuit around the TARDIS, James frowned. "What are you doing?"

"I'm taking you back. As soon as I triangulate where you came through, I can take you back a few seconds after you arrived. It'll be like you never left."

The anger came rising up again. He stalked over to the controls and began flipping switches, turning faucets and pulling levers.

The Doctor stopped and looked at him. "What are you doing?"

"I'm not going back," James said as his fingers flew over a few more buttons.

"Yes, you are!" the Doctor said, typing on the type writer and pulling down a lever.

"No, I'm not!"

"Yes, you are!"

The two made circles around the controls, undoing what the other had done while yelling angrily at each other.

"Stop that!"

James looked the Doctor purposefully in the eyes and spitefully flipped another switch.

The TARDIS lurched back and forth as the two men argued and fought for control of her.

"I mean it, John!"

"It's James!" he snapped.

"You have to go back!" the Doctor shouted furiously.

"I can't! You'll put Rose in danger!"

The Doctor stopped, staring at James confusedly. "What do you mean? She's safe there."

James growled in frustration. "Morgan Gates crossed an entire universe to get to me! Do you get that? He left Rose. He had the opportunity to take her-"

"-but he didn't," the Doctor finished, anger disappearing beneath realization and confusion. "He didn't take her. He could've had two hostages. But no, he got you. For some reason... it had to be you."

James nodded, leaning against the railing tiredly. "If I go back, he'll probably come after me again and he might hurt Rose."

The Doctor swallowed and looked down at the floor. "No, you're right. We can't risk that." He paused, eyes unseeing as he thought. He looked up again with a look of utter bewilderment.

"Why you? I have plenty of friends. A lot of them easier to get to. Why you? What makes you special? What sets you apart from the others?"

"I'm part Time Lord," James said.

"Yes, but he didn't want anything from you, did he?"

James shook his head.

"He was just using you to get to me, but why? And how did he even know about you? Nobody else knows about you."

"I've been wondering about that myself," James said, looking down at the floor to avoid making eye contact.

"He crossed an entire universe just for a hostage? That doesn't add up," the Doctor said, scratching his head fretfully. "John-"

"James," he snapped.

The Doctor looked at him in surprise. "What?"

"I told you. My name is James. Not John."

"Oh. Right," the Doctor said, looking flustered. "Why didn't you go by John Smith? I thought that was what you would've gone with."

"That's your alias... not mine."

"Why James?"

He shrugged.

"James Smith... You kept the last name?" the Doctor asked curiously.

"You made me."

The Doctor nodded, pondering that for a moment. "In a human sense... that would make me..."

James groaned. "Oh, don't say it."

The Doctor threatened a smile, but it faded and he looked over at the console. "Look what we've done. We've upset her. She doesn't know where to go now."

"If you'd just listened to me," James said.

The Doctor scowled at him, and began putting in new coordinates.

James watched him, frowning. "Where are you going to dump me off this time?" he asked scathingly.

The Doctor turned to him, not surprised that James already knew what he was planning. It had become apparent to both of them that they had a uniquely strong psychic connection. It wasn't much of a stretch to guess that they could hear what the other was thinking.

"I'm taking you somewhere safe."

"The TARDIS is safe."

"I have a rubbishy named, ex-Time Agent, dishonorably discharged special forces hit-man after me. Being in the general vicinity of me probably isn't the safest place to be."

"Then where are you going to take me? And don't say Torchwood."

"Jack's perfectly capable of-"

"I don't want to go to Torchwood and you wouldn't either," James said.

"What about with Martha?"

"She works with UNIT," James said.

"So?"

James looked at him crisply. "So I don't like UNIT any more than I do Torchwood."

"UNIT's decent enough-"

"I don't want to go there. I won't," James said resolutely.

The Doctor frowned. "Then there's only one other place I can think of to take you..."

James watched him put in a new set of coordinates and then turn around to face him again.

"I was going to wish the Ponds a Happy New Year, anyway."