I'm sorry that I haven't updated in a while- vet school has really gotten into the meat of the semester, and finals are starting and will go until next month. I PROMISE that I will not quit on this story! However, I'm not exactly sure at this point where the story is going... so just hang on for the ride, I guess! Feedback and comments LOVED and really appreciate- your comments really motivate me to continue writing this story! Enjoy this chapter (personally, I don't like it that much, but I have a good idea for the next one)!

The Doctor opened his eyes after being awoken from a nap. A bowl of food was being slid under the door, and it panged loudly against the hard, cold tile. Grumbling to himself, he stood and meandered to the door to collect his daily serving of food. It looked disgusting, and was as thick and tasteless as paste, but it appeared to have an excellent nutritional content. Forcing it down was a trial, but a few bites of it kept all three of the captives full and energized throughout the day.

The hours in their prison were monotonous, and passed by at a trickle. For a man who had lived almost an entire millennia, twenty years could sometimes seem like a blink, but in this four walled, tiled caged, the minutes and hours stretched on in a way that was just about unbearable.

It was the absolute stillness that really got to him, in all honestly.

And it was bothering the two women, too. He first saw it on the face of the warrior. The tall brunette had went about her first two days here calmly, sitting and laying around, investigating the chambers as if she were on a vacation and this was her chance to relax and catch up on sleep. After that, the warrior began to pace around, then run, then train. The room was almost as long as a basketball court, so it had plenty of space for the warrior to sprint around in. In one corner of the room was a small forest like area, with trees and vines. The Doctor guessed that this was meant to provide them with fresh air, but the time lord found the droopy trees and mossy ground depressing- a small and pitiful reminder of the brilliant universe they were stuck in here, missing.

The Doctor finished his meal, and looked up. Xena was doing pull-ups from a tree branch, and Donna was watching. After a few, the Greek dropped to the ground, landing as lightly as if she had landed on pillows and not a hard surface, and gestured for Donna to try. Donna did, and inevitably fell to the ground after a few struggling pulls upward. Xena laughed, helped her up, and Donna tried again.

These types of occurrences had become more and more frequent as their time in captivity spanned onward. Constantly chatting Donna had become so bored with the tile box that she eventually started taking part in Xena's daily training. Donna had even been learning how to fight- in hand-to-hand combat and with sticks that were supposed to represent swords. Although Xena always won, she took it easy on the red head, and Donna was improving each and every day.

The Doctor sat silently now, watching them work out together. He was glad that they had something to do- he knew how important it was for a human mind to have outside stimulation. As for his time lord consciousness, he had found that lately he was getting lost in the vast sinusoids of his brain, sitting for hours at a time trying to work through the problem of their current situation. His mind seemed to be larger and more confusing even than the inside of his beloved tardis, and it was as if he were trapped inside, wandering and wandering but never really finding what he was looking for.

Donna had finally finished ten pull ups. She hopped down, triumphantly, and bowed dramatically. Xena chuckled and the Doctor nodded in approval, and applauded the redhead. "You're coming along!" He called to his companion, reflecting. Perhaps this training was a good thing, after all. He sighed. He had objected to the training, at first. He understood fitness training, but couldn't condone fighting in any way, and that is what Xena was- a warrior. He just hoped Xena wouldn't turn Donna into a warrior, too.

"Fighting NEVER leads to good!" He had cried at Donna, who looked at him with an expression mixed with pity, confusion, and defiance, "It will only get YOU hurt!"

Donna was stubborn, however, and Xena promised to put her main emphasis on defense and disarming- not physical injury or killing. Reluctantly, the time lord resigned to the fact that this was going to happen, and that it would probably be good for Donna to get a "hobby" while they were trapped in their small space. After all, she had been absolutely chattering his ear off as of late.

The doctor reclined on his small cot, entwining his fingers behind his head and gazing at the ceiling. The two were at it with the sticks again, and he heard the shouts and noises from his companions and the dull beat of their makeshift swords against each other as he closed his eyes.

He had so many questions, and sitting around here wasn't helping him figure them out. In fact, sitting here in general was causing him to come up with even more questions. Why were the Daleks keeping them here for so long? If they had wanted to kill them, they would've done that, but if they had needed him for a reason, they would've used him and have been done with him already, too.

So why the wait? Why were the sentient trash cans suddenly so accommodating? Being imprisoned in the room wasn't anything at all to be happy about, but considering that they were in a room with all of their basic needs and they haven't seen a Dalek in four days, the Doctor was counting them pretty darn lucky. Plus, it seemed odd to him that they would allow Xena- a world class warrior- a basic arena where she could hone and teach her lethal skills. Surely the Daleks were smart enough to know that was not a good idea for them?

Or maybe they were counting on other factors. Factors a bit more… human.