The Doctor blinked a half a heartbeat in confusion, not having expected a positive response from the blackness that had slipped into the room. His vast vault of Time Lord memories told him that this should not have been the response and his greyish eyes darted around the room, as he raised a long forefinger in thought. "Save the scapegoat," he muttered aloud. "Save it, rubbish, no one ever saves the scapegoat. People revel in its death, bloody humans, as its demise takes the place of their own."

A slight squeak of distress came from Gilda and he glanced at her, his eyebrows knit together fiercely. "Hush. No one is dying today. Long story, old tales, no time to explain. You," his voice trailed off as he turned again and gazed at the shapeless, hooded creature, "you are not a savior, are you. You are here to retrieve her, yes, but no, not to save her."

"Clever, Time Lord," the Neverwas chuckled. Its mirthful cheer was at a decibel somewhere between a hyena laugh and a grating iron gate, and both the Doctor and Gilda cringed at the sound. "Clever, clever, old man, but getting a little slow. You know you cannot change the laws of the universe, and the law states that a scapegoat is to take on the sins of the people. In this case, the sins of the one it is intended to die for. Remember, everyone pays a price for their mistakes, even you Doctor."

"Well, you just send along whomever this blasted fool is that has claimed another life to die for them and direct them here. I have a reckoning to settle with them. They need to learn a little thing called responsibility for their own actions."

"Doctor, doctor," the Neverwas cackled again. "Tis you who could learn a little of that. Escaping from old memories are you, taking on your little vigil of conscience soothing. Does she know what you've done?"

The shadowy sleeve pointed toward the girl and the Doctor immediately took a step in front of her, one hand fumbling behind him. Gilda shoved the 'otoscope' into his hand and he pointed it at the creature.

"Be gone, Neverwas. She is under my protection. So is Earth, you know that right?"

"Doctor," the creature replied, it's voice dry, dark, and looming. "You have already made a promise to remain here until the exile is accomplished. Don't fool yourself into thinking that only you know the combination that keeps her in the Vault. I am patient, and so are our people. We can wait."

The black shadow slipped back out of the room through the crack under the door, and was gone. Its shadowy retreat, so similar to something else, something that made his skin crawl and his blood boil. Memories, tamped down and stuffed under self resolution, hiding all aspects of the past from his guilty conscience.

But why? What had happened that had caused him to feel so lost, so cornered, so - lonely?

The Doctor immediately began to pace in frustration at the blank places in his mind, his coat tails fluttering wildly behind him. "Knows I can't take on any travels, promised to stay. Can't leave these walls. Knows the combination, too. This is connected to her somehow, but how? She wouldn't try to escape, she's just not that kind of Time Lord."

He paused suddenly as if he had run into a brick wall and gazed at Gilda who was still standing by the desk, her eyes wide, the hideous stamp still flickering on her forehead. If he looked past the creepy writing dancing across her skin like a brand from another world, her large eyes distinctly reminded him of someone.

He just couldn't remember who.

But her expression stirred something chivalrous in him and he swallowed hard, steadying his nerves.

"I will take your case."

Relief flooded the student's face and she heaved a sigh. "Thank you, doctor, thank you. I have - no idea what just happened there, but you seem to know. And I don't know why but - I trust you."

The Doctor had moved to his desk and was rifling through the paperwork, but at the last phrase she said, so softly, he looked up at her, pausing, his intense eyes boring into hers.

"You shouldn't," he said grimly, and turned his attention back to the paperwork. "Once again, I am not asking the right questions. If she were here, she would tell me that."

"Who, Doctor?" Gilda asked, confused.

He paused in thought then tossed a stack of papers into his drawer. "Don't know, don't need to know. Right now, we have to focus on you. And I know who I need to talk to, but I can't risk anything happening to you. Now, promise me that you will listen to what I say, obey every single word, even if I ask you to kiss a Dalek or cut the head off of a Sontaran?"

"Uh, sure," she replied, stumbling over the simple statement as he pulled another 'otoscope' out of the jar, pointed it at the door, pressed a button, studied the green light and tossing it back on the desk, grabbing the one that had the blue light. "Sure, Doctor." What's a Dalek, she asked herself. Or a Sontaran?

Aliens. Had to be aliens.

"What's the device, Doctor? Definitely not an otoscope." The Doctor paused again to look at her, something kind wavering about his face. It was a question he had been asked so many times, by so many companions.

Maybe she's the next one, the Tardis offered helpfully.

You, shut up, he grunted in return. The sonic says she's not from here. Never had a non-human companion. Doesn't happen.

Maybe it will this time.

No, he replied firmly. It won't. Nothing good can come from this one.

She seems harmless, the Tardis replied, humming in gentle persuasion.

She's literally made of time and stardust from Gallifrey, the Doctor mentally shouted at the Tardis. Says so on the sonic. It's impossible. She's either not real, or a figment of my imagination. Can't let her get anywhere near the Vault. If Missy is involved, she could be trying to get me to escape. I have to research Gallifrey.

Are we going there? The Tardis asked, a faint bit hopeful. It too longed for home, just as he did.

But he was not ready to reckon with the past. Especially not with those that had betrayed him, banished him, blamed him for things he could not control.

Not on your life.

"Sonic screwdriver," he replied gruffly, and Gilda rolled her eyes.

"Sonic screwdriver? Doesn't look remotely like a screwdriver," she pointed out.

She wasn't sure what she had just promised to do, but something told her that it had been the right words to say. A small hum of approval somehow drifted in the air, and she felt like she had an ally. It was foolish, she thought to herself, but something around them felt alive, and that was a stark contrast to the emptiness in her brain.

Then he was beside her, towering over her, lined face so desperately serious, so frighteningly hard and angry. There was something about him that felt - so ancient, so deep, and she felt that he were a black hole that she was being sucked into, stupid word on her face and all. Whatever disease she had, he was the cure.

"You," he grunted at her. "No dallying, no fuss. Follow where I go. If you don't, and that thing gets ahold of you, you die, no questions asked."

He said this so matter-of-factly that it sent gutting fear into her stomach, and she inched closer to him. She couldn't deny that everything about the last few minutes had been bizarre, and for once she was glad for an empty brain. There was simply nothing telling her to question his authority.

"Isn't that the whole idea?" She asked, conversationally. "I'm supposed to die, right?"

"Wrong question," he muttered, pacing for a moment. "Right question, who sent you here?"

"If I could remember anything, Doctor, I could tell you that. Unfortunately," she rapped on the side of her head with her knuckles. "Still empty as a tomb."

The Doctor hmphed thoughtfully, his eyes flitting between her face and the word on her skin, then he tucked his strode into the blue police box, turning at the door to hold up a finger. "Could almost say you were human. Same face. Same lack of a broad mind. You lot force your ideas through a keyhole in your brains big enough to cram a gnat through, and expect great things to emerge from that tiny brained existence. No wonder you need me. Wait here." He laid a gentle hand on the wooden door. "Force field, my dear." The last sentence was spoken to someone other than herself and Gilda opened her mouth to ask what on earth he was on about, but the second the wooden door shut, she flattened herself against the side of the box, her eyes watching the crack under his office door for any signs of the black shadow. Nothing happened, thankfully, and she relaxed against the rough blue surface of the box. A curious humming seeped into her skin, as if the box was alive, or there was something living inside it.

Living wood? Impossible.

Couldn't be more weird than black cloaked shadows that could talk and demand for death.

Then the door opened and she stumbled away, startled at the sudden movement, but the Doctor said nothing and shut the door firmly behind him, giving her only a glimpse of amber light beyond the wooden entrance.

"What is that thing?" She asked, half curious, half just needing him to talk about anything to get her mind off of the fear of waiting those lonely few moments.

"It's a box," he replied, half distracted as he moved to his desk again. He stood for a moment gazing into the faces of those he cared for on the desk, taking up the raven once more in his rough hands. The scream of the raven echoes painfully in his thoughts and he shook his head to disperse its fragmented call.

Someone somewhere needed him. He had entered information on the Neverwas into the Tardis database and had come up with a very old ancient legend. Back in Time Lord history, there were a few souls of Time Lords that had sold themselves to others such as the Vashta Nerada or the Silence. Too powerful to remain in the control of those that bought them, they became a small group of shadowed harbingers of death called the Neverwas.

But why they were here was still a mystery, along with why they were chasing this young girl, made of the dust of his homeland.

"I can see it is a box," she snorted at him, flapping her hands in the air. "But look, it's so tall, and cool. Can I go in?"

"Yes. We are going in," he said confidently. "Remove force field, old girl," he whispered softly.

A shift in the air brushed across Gilda's face, and she felt the welcoming pull increase from the blue box. A slight amber glow drifted from her fingertips, and the Doctor swallowed hard. She wasn't from earth.

Not a companion.

She would fade into dust at some point. Couldn't get attached then.

Right.

Just the Doctor this time. No companion, no help, alone again.

Stepping into the Tardis with a shell of a person who was really a fragment of home.

Home that was long gone, had long ago repelled him, and exiled him on this earth.

Once again, he was exiled, this time at his own choice. Surely Gallifrey knew he was fulfilling this self induced punishment of watching Missy to keep her out of trouble. Surely they understood this was a bad time to throw some kind of nonsensical drama at him in the form of a face that pleaded just as desperately as they all did, for someone, anyone to help.

He hadn't quite put the pieces together yet, but it all hung in an uneasy heaviness on his chest.

They all needed a Doctor in the end, didn't they?

And who did the universe call?

Him.