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The Torchwood van skidded to a halt outside Donna's house, scraping pale tracks into the road. Quickly they leapt out of their car. Jack forced the front door open with his shoulder, then followed Gwen into the corridor where Donna lied, screaming in pain with her hands over her head.
"Jesus! You could've knocked!" Sylvia cried, staring in awe as her front door was knocked off its hinged.
"Yeah, sorry," Gwen shrugged, kneeling down beside Donna. "Got it?" she asked Jack.
"Yeah," Jack confirmed, passing her a syringe. Gwen injected Donna with a clear liquid in her neck. Immediately, Donna fell unconscious.
"What have you done? What was that?" Sylvia asked.
"Retcon," Jack replied. "Sends her to sleep and she forgets everything. No more Doctor."
"So she's ok?" Sylvia clarified.
"Yeah. But we should take her back to the Hub for more testing – just to be sure," Gwen insisted. "Jack, some help getting her in the van, please."
"Yep," Jack said, holding Donna under her arms and picking her up. "Have a good day, Miss Noble."
Rory Williams had never been so dazed. Slowly, he woke, his head dusted with the soil and grit that covered the floor beneath him. His vision, once blurred, began to focus on his surroundings. He was in what appeared to be a cave. It was dark and glowing with an orange light, and the sheer heat had resulted in large, dark patches of sweat forming under his armpits and across his forehead. Slowly, he tried to move, but realised that he was restrained by chains that were attached to his ankles. Throughout the cave, many people, just like him, we also chained. They cowered, coughing and gasping for cool air instead of the nauseating humidity.
"Hello," a woman's voice chimed, making Rory jump.
"Argh!" he cried. "What was that for?"
"Shush," the woman insisted, keeping her voice down. She had short brown hair, and wore a jacket and boots.
"Why do I need to be quite?"
"I don't know. It's what people tend to do in these sorts of situations," she shrugged.
Rory pressed his hand to his forehead, aching. "How did you get here?"
"I wanted to ask you the same question," the woman said, flashing her card at Rory: she was a journalist. "I was just here to get samefacts. How about you?"
"It's a little tricky to explain."
"I'm clever and seen a lot more in my lifetime than I think you ever will do."
"Ha! You'd be surprised," Rory giggled. "I'm Rory. And you are?"
"Sarah Jane Smith," the woman replied.
The Doctor was dragged by two Nazi officers through their trenches. War erupted around them, spitting soil into the air. Desperately, the Doctor fought against them – kicking out as they patrolled him forwards, past the vicious stares and soldiers that trembled with rifles in their hands. The sky was as dead and dark as the fearful expressions.
"Where are you taking me?" the Doctor complained, struggling against them.
"Never you mind," the Officer on his right grunted.
"Has anyone else arrived? A girl with ginger hair? A guy with a long nose?" the Doctor wondered. "What about a blue box?"
"I don't know what you're talking about. Not shut up."
"Let me go! Please! Just let me go and I won't cause any trouble," the Doctor begged.
"Plead to her," the Officer shrugged. He opened a half-broken door, which led into a small mud-lined room, lit with flickering candlelight, where he threw the Doctor and locked himself and another officer inside. There were large maps of Europe on the walls, infected with a red cloud that loomed out of Germany and over the rest of the continent. There was a flimsy wooden desk, and littering of both documents and rat excrement. A large red curtain covered the far side of the room.
"Who? You said 'her'; who is she?" the Doctor asked, stumbling as he regained balance.
"I think he means me, Sweetie," stuttered River Song.
The Doctor turned his head, facing into the darkness in the corner of the room where his wife cowered. Her frizzy blonde hair was a mess with mud; her body tattered and bruised. "River!" the Doctor gasped, staggering beside her, dropping to his knees. "How long have you been here?"
"Days . . . Weeks?" River guessed, her throat croaked. "It's good to see you."
"I'm so, so sorry," the Doctor stuttered, hugging her firmly. "Thank God you're alright."
River smiled, then leaned in to kiss the Doctor on the lips. Within moments, the Doctor pulled away, a little shocked. "What? What is it?" River asked in confusion.
The Doctor took his hand to his lips. When his fingers touched his skin, he felt a cold, gooey liquid over his face. His hands were stained with the purple liquid which now covered his face. He gasped in shock. "What the hell is this?"
"Urgh!" River cried, stamping onto her feet. "Damn it. I thought I had a good impression going until that. Never kiss! I should've learnt that a long time ago. The venom sacks must be leaking."
"What do you mean?" the Doctor asked, staggering away from River.
"I think we can explain," the two Nazi Officers said in unison. Suddenly, without warning, they spat lumps of purple, blood-like fluid out of their mouths. Suckers sprouted across their bodies, until, eventually, their whole figures swelled into that of a cone-headed Zygon.
The Doctor turned to River. "Where's River? You must've kept her alive, so where is she?"
"Never too far," the Zygon River said, unveiling the red curtain at the end of the room, revealing the true River in a tangle of organic Zygon matter, restrained against the wall. "Don't worry, Doctor. She's perfectly fine."
"Why are you here?" the Doctor asked. "Why the Second World War? Surely it's not a coincidence."
"Ha!" River laughed. "Asif we would reveal our plans to you, Doctor. However, I will share part of it."
"And what's that?"
River removed the rest of the red curtain, revealing a second tangle of Zygon matter, yet that one was empty. "The Zygons want a copy of you, Doctor."
"What just happened?" Oswin asked, holding Bad Wolf by the shoulders as she dropped to the floor of the Tardis. "What was that sound?"
"Ah," Bad Wolf groaned, crawling back into her feet, leaning against the console. "Yeah. I probably should've remembered to look after that."
"What was it?"
"An audio file in the Tardis. It was activated, so when it played, it played through me. I'm an extension of the Tardis, remember," Bad Wolf explained.
"And what was the sound?" Oswin asked. Suddenly, the room flickered, disappearing before flickering back, a little out of place.
Bad Wolf looked concerned. "Never mind the noise. Oswin . . . You're dying."
"What? No, but I'm here with you and . . ."
"Your Dalek body is being burned, and I'm guessing you have moments left until even the pieces of software that hold this conversation together are getting singed."
"No . . ." Oswin stuttered. "My Dalek body; I'm human!"
"I think it's time to stop dreaming, Oswin," Bad Wolf frowned. "If you don't believe me, just ask a Doctor."
Oswin turned a head, a tear building in her eye. Stepping from beneath the console room, the Doctor, the man she recognised from her cameras. He wasn't dressed in his tweed suit, but in a doctor's white jacket instead, and a stethoscope around his neck. "Doctor? What's is this?"
The Doctor her his stethoscope against her chest, then took notes on a chart. He looked the Oswin with blank, mechanic eyes and recited his words like a manual. "Hardware casing impaired. Troubleshooting unsuccessful. Estimated seventy seconds until complete failure."
"What does he mean?" Oswin frowned, turning to River. "Doctor? Look me in the eye!" she pleaded desperately, clicking her fingers in front of his face and shaking him, yet he only responded with the same empty expression.
"He means that you're dying," Bad Wolf stuttered.
"No!" Oswin snapped. "He said I had seventy seconds, so in this time it's . . ."
"He was talking about this time," Bad Wolf interrupted her. "And now it's roughly sixty, so don't waste your last moments."
"Last moments," Oswin gasped, almost laughing. "No . . . I can't die. This isn't happening. I'm too young to die."
"Yes, you are," Bad Wolf agreed solemnly.
"I should be getting drunk at parties and travelling the universe to touch the stars! But no . . . I really hate Daleks. I really wanted to make something out of my life – join the Alaska, have some fun, maybe a family or at least a string of doomed relationships – but those Daleks just had to go and kill me, didn't they. I was dead before this explosion even began."
Bad Wolf stepped closer to Oswin and held her hand. The Doctor had disappeared, leaving the two of them alone in the console room, which slowly disintegrated around them – seeping into a white light. "Where did you grow up?" Bad Wolf asked.
"Nowhere special," Oswin shrugged.
"Go on," Bad Wolf insisted.
Oswin shrugged, a smile creeping across her head as her past surfaced. "Just a little place. On of this small, intimate places where everyone knew each other. I was beautiful, though. I remember one night, I climbed out of bed in the middle of the night and looked out the bedroom window. The whole city in the distance was bathed in this orange lights, and my breath formed this halo over it. Then I looked up to the sky, and amongst all that darkness – never black, just deep blues and purples – I saw the stars. They just sat there, sparkling like the twinkle you see in someone's eye when they're about to cry. I reach out my hand, trying to touch them . . . And I've never stopped since."
Bad Wolf remained. Oswin had faded, disappearing along with the Tardis into the whiteness that surrounded her. "Ok . . ." Bad Wolf stuttered, moving her hands from where they had once met Oswins'. "Plan B."
Yep, Oswin's gone. But Clara will be in the next chapter! Thanks for reading :)