I'm alive, I promise. Once again, I apologize for the lateness of this chapter, but it's a long one, so hopefully that compensates. Haha. Anyway, here's the James-centric scene! Sorry if there are spelling or grammatical errors. I'm kind of in a hurry with this and want to get it posted before I leave today for work.

Oh, and I completely forgot to mention that one of the reviewers for this story gave me a gift for my 100th review! It's so awesone. Here's the link if you'd like to see. : / / oceanlover4evr .deviantart art/Gift-for-LostInTheTARDIS-337477772 without the spaces. :)

Also, the winner of the 100th review hasn't responded, so if at the end of this story there is still no response, I'll offer it another reviewer. Just FYI. Also, also, at the end of this story, I will be taking a break, but I plan to come back and I would like all of your opinions on what you would like to see me write next. You can PM me your idea or put it here as a review. It doesn't really matter. What would you like to see next? I'll try to take a few ideas from each one of you. ^_^

On to the story. Please enjoy this chapter. :)

James awoke with a groan of discomfort, his head pounding in his skull. The worst part was that he couldn't remember why. He had been running with Amy and Rory, trying to get them away from the...

The Silence.

James' eyes opened and he sat up. He immediately regretted it when his head burst in his head, bright and painful colors dancing across his vision. He sat back again -apparently he had been sitting- and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to shake off the sensation.

"Cowboy, he's awake," a vaguely familiar voice stated.

"Cambell, is that you?" he asked, carefully opening his eyes. The light was nearly blinding and his vision was blurry, but he could fairly well make out his surroundings.

Sitting just in front of him with a crossword puzzle was Cambell, fully recovered from the nitrogen burns he had received. He looked slightly bored, not really paying attention to the puzzles in his book. He glanced at James, looked at him for a second, then returned his attention to his book with a disinterested expression.

James made another attempt to sit up and was much more successful on his second go. He managed to sit up in the comfortable office chair he had been placed in and was able to get his bearings. He was in yet another nondescript warehouse, loaded with crates for the most part. He was at the far end, seated in a nice office chair, one wrist cuffed to the armrest. It seemed rather silly, when he looked at it, considering the fact that the chair had wheels, and if the opportunity to escape arose, it wouldn't be too terribly difficult to drag the chair along, as inconvenient as said plan would be.

Cambell was apparently acting as his guard, sitting in his own chair, although his was a fold-out, metallic one, and occupying himself with books he didn't seem to be in the least bit interested in.

Nigh had been stationed on top of one of the rows of crates near the center of the warehouse, also occupying what looked to be a lawn chair, a very large rifle resting on his thigh. He was staring down at James with an expression he hadn't expected to see on him; he looked deep in thought. It wasn't a good look on him.

Across from Nigh was Dickson, at the front was Freeman and James guessed that Thomas was stationed somewhere above and behind him, covering every corner of the warehouse, leaving not one inch unobserved.

Wizard.

Lastly, Mr. Boots rounded a corner of crates, carrying a plastic tray. "Morning, Sunshine," he greeted, walking over to him and setting the tray down on a little side table where Cambell was keeping his crosswords.

"I think its evening, actually," James said.

Morgan smiled. "Very impressive," he said, then handed James a mug.

"What's this?" James asked.

"Tea," he replied. "And I've made you a sandwich. I wasn't certain what kind you would want, so I threw in a little of everything; peanut butter,, jelly, honey, mayonnaise, mustard, pickles, a few sliced of turkey and ham, tomatoes slices, regular butter, lettuce, several different kinds of cheese and some oregano." He handed the plate to him, pointed at the two pills sitting beside the odd looking sandwich. "That one is for the headache and that one is to help keep you awake."

"What for?"

"You have a concussion," Mr. Boots said, then handed him an icepack from the tray. "I overestimated how easily you would knock out."

James took the icepack with his free hand and placed it gently against the back of his head, feeling the heat slowly melt away, although the pain remained. He closed his eyes for a second, willing his scrambled brain to focus. "Where are Amy and Rory?"

"With the Doctor," Mr. Boots answered. "Safe and sound."

"You let them go?" James asked, a little surprised.

Mr. Boots grabbed a fold-up chair that was leaning against one of the crates, opened it, and took a seat, crossing a leg over his knee and leaning back into the seat. He shrugged. "It's like you said; I didn't need them."

James didn't remember saying that, and he knew that wasn't memory loss from the concussion. "So where did the Silence go?"

"They're around," Mr. Boots answered. "I told them to keep out of view. The last thing your head needs right now is memory altering."

James put the icepack on the side table, then grabbed the cup of tea, smelling the sweet aroma as he brought it to his lips. It was the best tea he had ever had. "This is really good."

Mr. Boots nodded his thanks. "My mother's recipe. It took quite a bit of practice to perfect. Take your pills, James."

James looked at the pills, frowning.

Mr. Boots laughed. "They're not poison. You have my word on that."

"Oh, no, it's not that. You wouldn't have gone to all of this trouble just to poison me. I've just never been a fan of human medicine," James said, picking up one of the pills and examining it between two fingers.

"It's not Aspirin," Mr. Boots assured him.

James looked at him, surprised.

"I've done my home work," the hit-man said with a smirk. "At any rate, there's a possibility that Aspirin isn't poisonous to you. Your human half might just protect you from that."

"Well, I don't think I'll be testing that out any time soon," James said, taking the two pills and swallowing them with a gulp of tea. He then turned to the sandwich, finding he almost liked it, if it hadn't have had honey and pickles. "So what's the plan, then?"

"The plan?" Mr. Boots inquired.

James nodded, swallowing a bite so that he could speak clearly. "You know... the plan. Are we just going to sit around here until the Doctor shows up? In case you weren't paying attention, it didn't work out that well for you last time."

"This is just a pit-stop."

Cambell glanced up from his crossword at Mr. Boots for a second, then returned to his crossword.

"And after this?"

"The last stop," Mr. Boots replied.

"And how exactly do I fit into any of this? After all, if this is all about killing the Doctor, then what would you need me for now?"

"You're essential."

"To what end?"

"I wouldn't want to give anything away too soon," Mr. Boots said with a grin. "All in good time, James."

"How about now instead," James said severely.

Mr. Boots stared at him, undeterred by the angry gaze he was receiving. "Getting a little impatient, are we?" he asked, then glanced behind him.

James followed his gaze to where Nigh and Thomas were talking in hushed tones, their backs turned to them.

"You're not alone in that."

"Huh. Looks like they're conspiring. I didn't think they had the brains for that... no offense to your minions over there," he said, watching as the two nervously glanced in their direction, then looked at the others scattered across the room.

"None taken. They're not the most intelligent bunch, which is precisely why I wanted them. Nigh and Cambell are really the thinkers of the group. The others just follow the money. We'll see what happens tonight," Mr. Boots said, then looked at James again. "But for now, how about a game?"

James had many, many more questions that he wanted the answers to, but he could see the Mr. Boots wasn't going to give anything away until he was ready, so he decided to drop it for the time being.

"Oh, I like games! I'm good at Scrabble. And Trivial pursuit! And- well, really, I'm good at every game. I'm also good at Hide and Seek. Let's play that. Just take these cuffs off me then I'll go hide and you count to one hundred. And why don't we let everybody join in the game, eh? I'll hide and the lot of you can count to one hundred and seek me," he said, holding out his wrist as far as it would go.

"I was thinking more along the lines of Go-Fish."

James guffawed. "Go-Fish?"

Mr. Boots looked at him curiously, tilting his head.

"I pictured you more as a chess sort of person."

Mr. Boots chuckled. "That's a bit cliche for my taste. Besides, I only have cards, I'm afraid."

"Go-Fish it is, then."

For the next half hour, James played Go-Fish with Mr. Boots, blabbing away about absolutely nothing and everything, while the latter nodded and listened and piped in on a few occasions to add to what he said. It was- oddly enough- pleasant. Mr. Boots was actually enjoyable company when he wasn't trying to kill anyone. Eventually he grew bored, so Mr. Boots had to employ six new card games to entertain him over the course of an hour.

It was a little disconcerting, actually enjoying his company. He knew he shouldn't be, but he was. Mr. Boots had intelligence to match his own, which made the card games that required actual skill quite interesting and he was a pleasant conversationalist.

"And that's why you should always bring a banana to a party," James concluded, picking up a card and holding it up to his forehead as they started a new round of Indian Poker.

Mr. Boots laughed, head rolling back with the outburst. He grabbed up a card and put it to his own forehead. "Had anyone else told me that story, I would've thought they'd gone mad."

"Oh, I wouldn't rule out the possibility that I'm mad," James said with a grin, then scrutinized the card on Mr. Boots' forehead. "I think I'm higher."

Mr. Boots laughed again. "Like father like son, I suppose," he said, looking at James' card. "I think I'm lower."

James made a face of disgust. "Please, don't call him that. Why does everyone call him that?"

"Well, technically-"

"I know, I know, in the technical sense, blah blah," James groused.

Mr. Boots chuckled and revealed his card to be lower than James'. They drew again, holding them up to their foreheads.

"Let me ask you something," Mr. Boots said.

"Ask away."

"Say the Doctor defeated me."

James' raised his brow in surprise that Mr. Boots would even consider the possibility.

"Bear with me," Mr. Boots said, lowering the card to lean forward. "Say the Doctor won. Were would you want to go?"

James gave him a confused look. "I need to get back to the Pete's World."

"Pete's World?"

"That's what we call it," James said.

Mr. Boots' stared at him thoughtfully for a second. "I didn't ask where you needed to go. I asked where you wanted to go."

James stared at him for a second, suddenly feeling flustered. "I- well, I- I don't see- why do you care?"

"I want to know," Mr. Boots said, voice sincere.

"I- I need... want," he reiterated carefully, "to get back to Rose."

Mr. Boots' raised a brow. "Really?" he asked dubiously.

"Yes. Really."

"You seemed eager enough to leave her behind," the hit-man said.

"I wasn't eager! She was safer there."

"Is that the only reason?"

James frowned. "Why are you asking me this?"

Mr. Boots smiled and shrugged. "Like I said. Curiosity. I can see you don't want to talk about this just now. That's fine. I really should be going anyway. I've got a few more chores to take care of," he said, standing and tossing his card onto the table.

James put his down, watching him stand and adjust his coat. The ace of spades and hearts lay on the table across from each other.

"I'll be back shortly," Mr. Boots assured him. "Nigh, come keep James company while I'm gone."

Nigh came down from one of the crates and sat down in the now unoccupied chair in front of James. He met eyes with the meta-crisis, frowning at him. James, feeling uncomfortable under his gaze, shifted away from him until the side of his body was facing him.

Mr. Boots looked between the two, then at Nigh. "I'll only be a few hours." With that, he turned and left, the spurs of his boots clinking until he pressed a few buttons on the vortex manipulator, and they disappeared entirely.

James frowned, disliking the idea of being left alone with Mr. Boots' henchmen. Particularly the one sitting next to him.

"So... how's being a criminal?" James asked.

Nigh ignored him, instead standing and looking back at the other henchmen stationed around the bunker. He pulled a communicator from his belt and spoke into it. "Are we ready?"

James looked at him curiously. "Ready for what?"

Nigh looked at him and smiled maliciously. "We're going for a ride."

"A ride? Where to? Right now? Are we all going? Shouldn't we wait for Mr. Boots? Don't you think-"

Nigh pulled the gun from the holster on his hip and pointed it at James' face. "Stop talking."

"Pointing a gun at me isn't going to work," Jame said. "Believe me, that's been tried by worse than you. I just like talking. Sometimes it relieves tensions. Sometimes it makes it worse. It depends on who I'm with."

The other henchmen had come down from their various stations to gather up equipment. Cambell and Thomas went to either side of James, releasing him from the chair momentarily to cuff his hands again behind his back.

"Nigh, he's going to kill you," James warned.

"I've got a plan," Nigh answered confidently.

James stared at him for a second, brain working quickly. He didn't particularly like any of these men, but they didn't have to die and when Mr. Boots discovered that they'd offed with him, there was no doubt in his mind that he would hunt down and kill every single one of them without a second glance. He needed to get Nigh to see reason.

"I hope its better than your steal-from-the-dangerous-hit-man plan," James said. "What happens when he finds us gone? Hm? Think he's going to say 'Oh, well. I give up,'?"

Nigh didn't have an answer to this, but he was far from deterred. His mind was set. Knowing a lost cause when he saw one, James turned to Cambell. "You're really going along with this?"

"I want to get paid," Cambell said, "And I don't think that's going to happen if we stick with the Cowboy."

"You're our money-ticket," Nigh said, then looked at the others.

"Nigh, you don't understand," James said, trying one more time to get him to listen, "He knows. He knows you're-"

"Shut up," Nigh said, raising his gun as though to strike him, but he stopped himself, bringing the gun down again. "Let's get moving. I want to be far away from here when the Cowboy shows up. Dickson, got those charges set up?"

Dickson, who had been running around the room putting square blocks at strategic points, turned and gave a thumbs up, gathering up the wires each box was connected to and pulling them along behind him as he headed for the door.

"Ahh. That's the plan, then," James said. "You're going to blow him up as soon as he comes back."

"Motion sensors will make sure the explosives go off at the right time," Nigh said.

Cambell pulled James along as the six of them headed for the door.

They were on earth. That was clear to him when they stepped outside. On the coast at an abandoned London port. No one around for miles. James frowned as he was pulled into the chill London air, looking around the the dismal harbor, veiled in a thick layer of mist. Whoever the caretaker was of this place needed to be fired.

Nigh and Dickson came out of the warehouse last, Dickson working on the finishing touches of the explosives and motion sensors.

"Freeman, go start up the ship," Nigh ordered.

Freeman nodded, slinging the very large gun he was toting over his shoulder and running off into the mist.

"Good place to hide a space ship," James commented. "Bit dreary, though. And it's really quiet. Has anyone else noticed that? Not a sound. That's rarely a good thing-"

Bang!

Everyone ducked down.

"What the bloody hell?" Nigh exclaimed in alarm, gun already out in his hand and ready to fire. He pulled out his communicator and spoke into it, "Freeman, where are you?"

Static.

"Freeman?"

Cambell, whose grip on James' arm had painfully increased, swallowed. "He got him."

"What the hell is he doing here? He wasn't supposed to be back for at least another hour!" Thomas asked, eyes wide with fear.

"Well, if Nigh hadn't of interrupted me, I could have told you that he'd figured out you lot were scheming," James said. "He probably never left."

Nigh growled in frustration, then set up his gun against the barrel he had ducked behind, looking into the scope. "Damn. I can't see him. But that shot came from the building across from us. Thomas, Dickson, go round and get behind him."

Both of them hesitated, not wanting to get out of his hiding place. Thomas was the first to protest. "Are you bleeding mad? He'll get us. We've got to get out of here."

"Where are you going to go? He's on top of our ship!" Nigh bit at him scathingly.

Thomas peeked out from behind his box, frowning. He looked at Nigh again. "Round behind him, yeah?"

Nigh nodded.

"No, do not do that," James said. "Listen to me. I can help."

"Shut up," Nigh hissed.

"Please, let me-"

Nigh pointed his gun at James again. "Shut up! Thomas, Dickson, go."

Thomas and Dickson, backs bent, got up and started making their way towards the wall of the building next to them, which was some sort of factory. The factory was long and would allow them to get to the back of the warehouse Mr. Boots was currently occupying without being detected. Using barrels and boxes as cover, they made their way to the factory and slipped inside.

James struggled against Cambell, wanting to stop them.

Bang, bang!

Clink... Clink... Clink... Clink...

Nigh and Cambell looked at each other.

"Bloody hell, he's walking right towards us," Cambell said, watching the door to the factory.

Nigh looked at James. "Give him to me."

Cambell looked strongly apposed to that, gripping James tighter.

"Nigh, please listen, I can help you. I can get us all out of here safely, but you have to let me go and let me do what I do best," James pleaded, urgency his voice. "Please, let me help. I can stop him. That's what I do."

Bang!

James flinched as Cambell fell backward, body limp.

Nigh jumped forward, grabbing James by the collar of his jacket and pulling him towards him. He wrapped his arm around his chest, pulled his gun from his hip and dropping his bigger gun completely, pressing the smaller to James' head.

When James finally registered what had just happened, Mr. Boots was standing in front of him, Cambell's limp body at his feet, gun poised.

"Back off, Cowboy," Nigh warned, eyes crazed with fear.

Mr. Boots stared at him for a second, adjusted the gun's position.

James' eyes widened. "No, wait-!"

Bang!

Nigh's grip on James loosened until he fell away entirely, his body hitting the ground with a heavy thud.

James flinched, looking down at Nigh. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Mr. Boots holstered his gun, stepped over Cambell and went to stand over Nigh's body, looking down at him, expressionless. "I warned him."

James looked up at him, jaw tight with anger.

"I warned him when I first hired him not to cross me," Mr. Boots continued, took in a deep breath, then looked up at James. "You alright?"

"They didn't have to die," James said, fists shaking.

"Yes, they did."

"You murdered them."

"That's my job." He cocked his head to the side thoughtfully. "I'm surprised you care this much, considering these men aided me in your capture."

James couldn't speak, anger boiling up inside him. Finally, all he could think to say was, "I'm going to stop you."

"I'm sure you will," Mr. Boots said, reaching out his hand.

James pulled away.

"Now don't make this difficult. We've got to meet up with the Doctor."

"You can't just leave them here," James said, gesturing at the men around them. "What about their families? Friends?"

"I have more pressing things to worry about."

James sighed and allowed Mr. Boots to grab his arm and they vanished.

Whew that was intense. Very hard chapter to write. Especially with my time-limit I was under. I hope you enjoyed it and I can't wait to hear what you guys have to say. :)