Sorry I haven't posted in a while - exams :( Anyway, I hope you like this; Amy's pulled closer into the Master's control, the Doctor and River draw up a plan and Martha and Mickey are running out of time . . . And oxygen.

The Doctor and River sat at a coffee shop in London – 2014. The sun was breaking through the clouds, clearing the light scattering of rain on the cloud outside. Coffee lingered in the air of the shop, along with the fragrant homemade cakes the stood behind the glass cabinet.

"What do we do now?" River asked. "What was on the note you wrote? I know you have a plan; you always do."

"No hurry," the Doctor shrugged, sipping his coffee before spitting it back into the cup. "We've got an hour until we have to move."

"To where?" River inquired.

The Doctor just flashed his eyebrows – always one to keep the mystery. "You'll see."

"Doctor, you can't treat this like a game. Hitler is involved! The Nazis. The Holocaust. The Second World War. We can't let the Zygons get involved," River insisted.

"I know."

"You don't seem to be doing much about it then; we're just sat here drinking coffee when there are aliens out there in the world trying to destroy everything human!" River cried, snapping her complementary biscuits as she hammered her fist onto the table in frustration.

"And so is everything else that's happening in the past!" the Doctor retaliated. "There could be Krillitanes in Parliament, the Jagrafess could have complete domination over Western media and Ood working in third world countries from Primark – but I haven't stopped it yet. Time is flexible. You know that. So we have time to sort things out here and now. Besides, we already know there's a link to the modern day."

"Which is?" River asked.

"Clara Oswald – whoever she is," the Doctor replied. "We need to find her and ask for everything she knows. Plus the file. Jack should've got it back by now, so hopefully there'll be more clues in it."

"Clues for what?"

"This," the Doctor answered with a grin. "We've just saved ourselves six decades worth of puzzling over this. Six years of human history with any relevance stored into that one file. All it should take is five minutes to pull the strands together."

River laughed. "You genius!"

"Why thank you."

"Lazy, but genius."

"I'll stick with genius. I've always liked it when-"

"Shut up!" River snapped, stepping out of her seat with a worried expression on her face.

The Doctor's eyebrows crawled together in concern. "Why? What is it?"

"Shush," River hushed, heading towards the TV that hung on the wall of the café. She reached for the remote and turned up the volume. It was a news show – serious BBC with a banner at the bottom of the screen, CCTV and dramatic music. On popped the image of two women, stood in a shopping street as they were surrounded by police officers, then arrested as they kicked back.

"It's . . . It's them!" the Doctor gasped.

"Yes. I recognise them," River recalled.

The screen was then filled with two side by side images of the women – mug shots. One black haired; the other ginger.

"It's Donna," the Doctor cried. "And Gwen. What trouble've they got into?"

"Hit and run by the looks of it," River replied.

Realisation hit the Doctor. "But that was me! They hit the Zygon impersonating me. They kicked an alien not a human. They've got it wrong!"

"What do we do?" River worried.

"Go to the police station. Explain what happened, flirt, anything to get them out safely," the Doctor instructed.

"And you?" River asked.

"I need to meet Jack. We need to work this out."

"Where should I meet you when it's sorted?"

"I dunno. Somewhere . . . You'll find out. Things will probably wind up how they should anyway."

"Ok," River nodded. "Good luck, Sweetie," River grinned, kissing the Doctor on the cheek before running from the café.

"Ok," the Doctor said, shaking out his neck and shoulders. "Time to sort this out."

Martha grew cold. Her skin contracting from the cold, goose pimpled and grey. Even Mickey didn't warm her as they clung together, floating through the vast emptiness that surrounded them. The window frosted over, diamond clouds scattering through the air.

"No-ones coming, are they," Mickey muttered, his mouth clenching in cold.

"You never know. Don't say for definite . . . There's always time."

"You don't sound convinced."

Martha shuffled closer into Mickey's arms, "Maybe not . . . I'm just hoping. That and you."

Mickey kissed Martha on the forehead. "No regrets?"

"Not really," Martha shrugged. "A family would've been nice . . . One of our own to tell all our stories to – the best bedtime story in the universe. Never mind, hey. We worked. We don't need kids, do we? Three's a crowd."

"Yeah," Mickey nodded. "I've got you; one baby's enough," he joked. "I wanted to travel more. Not necessarily with the Doctor but just see the word . . . I missed years of actually living from the daily grind . . . I never realised what was out there."

"Egypt. I hear it's beautiful," Martha smiled, starlight flickering in her eyes like a movie screen. "And the Amazon . . . Angel Falls . . . We'll do it all. Just you watch. We'll do it all – every last adventure, and when we get too old we'll get our kids to send us postcards from all the places they'll be going."

"You think? Sounds like a plan . . . I look forward to it," Mickey grinned.

An alarm beeped as oxygen levels ran low, but the two of them overlooked it, too fascinated by their fading futures together. They could almost see their children, dancing in their eyes in romper suits and ice cream noses. Only ever smiles.

Amy coughed the red dust from her lungs, inhaling deep breathes of steaming hot air as sunlight scattered through her eyes. Slowly, she lifted her head, opening her eyes to the rivers of sand around her. It was everywhere – in her shoes, in her hair, in her lungs. Perhaps another planet, some desert in a far of galaxy. Nevertheless, sweat sparkled like crystals over her body in the baking heat. She scrambled to her feet, slipping a little as if there were ice beneath her.

The Master wasn't too far from Amy. He was rabid, slowly descending into the madness Amy had only seen brief clippings of so far. His face was almost glowing red as he began to assemble a device. It was large – waist height – composed of metal sheeting and wires and the White Point Star. Every item was placed to his meticulous precision, forming a masterpiece to reflect the genius hidden within his insanity.

"How long was I sleeping?" Amy asked, stumbling towards the Master.

The Master didn't reply; he was too busy finishing his work.

"Not talking, eh? Could you please just! I'm tired of this. I just want to get back to the Doctor and Rory. Just use that teleport to get me back," Amy pleaded.

"I can't," the Master snapped.

"Why not?" Amy argued.

Glaring into Amy, the Master slowly gestured towards the table, liking his lips.

"You used the teleport in that?" Amy asked, already knowing she was right. "So what's it for? Teleporting us somewhere? Teleporting us to the Doctor?"

"No. Somewhere else," the Master replied.

"Where? Back to Earth?"

"Nope."

"Just tell me!" Amy snapped. "I'm put up with you to save my life and to get away from the Daleks; no that those threats aren't still here, I may as well just go."

"Oh, but you're my leverage," the Master grinned.

"Then why do we need to travel somewhere? You could just call the Doctor or something. You are way over complicating this."

"But I need to show you why I'm doing this. I need to show you why I want the Doctor dead, and why he deserves to me. What I have in store will convince you too," the Master insisted.

Amy's interest peaked. "Really? What've you got to show me?"

"Hold on," the Master said, gesturing to two handles at Amy's side of the device as he held the ones on his.

Amy didn't. "Explain. Now, or I won't come. Less fun if you're just reliving memories by yourself."

The Master groaned as he caved in. "Our destination should never we travelled to. There are laws that stop us from taking a step their . . . But I've never been one for obeying rules. If you want to break into a vault, where to you hit the hammer?"

"The weakest point," Amy replied.

"Exactly. If we're going to break in, we need to access via the weakest point in an otherwise strong location. This planet was ravaged by war hundreds of years ago; under the ground are ruins of whole civilisations that perished, someone of which I used to build this device. Millions died. Billions of others caught in the crossfire. Not Time War standard, but certainly one of the closest. On one day – the final day – a weapon was used. It ended the war by unravelling the timelines of everyone on the battlefield, undoing the world until everyone died, yet every action until that point remained. Confusing for a human, I guess. Such a massive time distortion left a weak point in time. That's why we're here," the Master explained, his eyes flickering with interest and excitement as he recalled the horror of the war.

"And the destination? There's a weak point here, but we're not trying to break into here – we're breaking into a vault, remember? Weak points on both sides," Amy asked.

The Master grinned. "Clever girl. You've obvious picked up something from the Doctor." Amy smiled. "Ever seen a crack in time?"

Amy almost laughed. "I grew up with one in my bedroom wall."

"Exactly. A crack in time is week; we can slip through into that world from this," the Master explained, licking his lips.

"Ok," Amy sighed, wiping her hair from her eyes. "Fine. I'm up for it," Amy reluctantly agreed, holding on to the device.

"Good. Hold on tight. The casing's weak so expect it to be rough," the Master warned, adjusting the settings on the console. "Here we go, ginge! Back to Gallifrey!"

Amy looked in shock . . . Had the Master really just said that? She'd heard the Doctor mention that word many times before, becoming the most intriguing word in her life since she was kidnapped by a blonde man on a Dalek ship. She opened her mouth to question, but the air was sucked from around her as the desert turned to the whole universe in a tunnel around her. She could almost see it in front of her . . . Gallifrey!

Martha clung to Mickey as they floated through space. The air almost gone.

They slipped closer to death into each other's arms . . .

Gallifrey? Donna and Gwen in prison? Will Martha and Mickey survive? Please vote in the poll on my profile to choose a classic era companion to appear in this story. Remember to review!