Chess on a Devil's Table (Meta and SJ, foes of any kind ask to join : ) )

There is a game going on.  You know it deep in your gut. Down in your dreams.  Somewhere, somewhen, there is a game going on.  A place where good and evil sit at a table.  They call up their pieces and make their strategies.  They agree that this small arena shall stand for the whole.  

Not even the Darkness wanted to destroy the Universe, it was the grinding pain of ongoing existence that was it's daily tea.  There on a Devil's Table Land on some orange planet with it's purple sky, a round person sitting and a lean one standing (no, this is not what they really were, but it is what the reader of this story would have seen if they to could walked in this land of metaphor), were preparing to play The Game.  It was the possible threat of mutual destruction that had spurred them to make the rules and set the game board.

A vast and empty ghost of a space ship rendered whole and sound again became a play field. There was an agreement of allocation of champions.  'Good' chose first.  

The Doctor, last of the Time Lords, and the infamous Sarah Jane Smith, protector of Earth, keeper of both the Warp Star and the last Zyclon intelligence, were picked out as though from an intergalactic line up of powerful beings through time and space.  The One Who Sat reached, found them, and pulled them to the space ship.  Even as the Sitting One did so, the Standing One smiled, bright pink sun glinting through the idea of a red gem that hung from one pierced nostril, focused light reflecting sharp against the Sitting One's Vision.

The grasp was not quite true.  It was not Sarah Jane Smith of the 21st century The Sitting One clasped onto, but instead one younger and less seasoned.  The One Who Stood thought it quite funny, feeling as though an advantage had been gained with that rude move.

 It was a wrong assumption, but still there was no way Sarah Jane could stop that light that came for her.

That bright bright light.  

What of the Doctor remained to be seen in regards this fumble of the tchotchke brought by Light.

Next thing she knew, Sarah Jane was laying belly down on metal.  She had not quite gotten her eyes open yet, but she knew she was on a ship. They always had some song, and here laying on the plating, she could hear it humming in her bones. What on Earth was going on?  She could feel the cool grid right through her jeans and her blouse,  the only extra warmth lent her by the red bolero jacket she was wearing, and her sturdy dark boots. She forced her eyes open. The world was fuzzy, but swimming into view.  Her fingers curled into the grate.

"Wah-?"

Tomorrow would be her 36th birthday, and so far the weekend was off to a rough start.

"Oh!" The Doctor sat up suddenly as a blinding pain shot through his head, and he crumpled back to the deck. He took a deep breath, in and out, before he could sit up again. His eyes bleary, he let them carefully venture about his surroundings. That was, he thought, one of the roughest travels he'd EVER been on with the vortex manipulator. He and Jenny were going to return home, and they had either teleported, and were either in the process when...when...the Doctor's mind blanked as he sat there. Oh right! He teleported. That bit was obvious, he thought, but teleported where? And that hadn't felt quite right either. It wasn't like barreling through time without protection, it was like being pulled through time by something very specific. It was like a...

He suddenly jumped up and flipped out his sonic screwdriver. He teetered uneasily, but kept from falling. His human body was frailer than that of a timelord, so it took him longer to adjust to sudden jolts...but at the same time he was just the tiniest bit sturdier than an average human. He didn't need to look at the halls or the floor to know he was on a space ship; it was sending a definite hum thrum through his red and white converse. His eyes remained focused on the screwdriver instead of the hall in front of him, because frankly, trying to look away made him feel dizzy.

He was careful, turning slowly as he buzzed the surrounding space. There was something weird going on, he decided. There was no sign of Jenny, or someone else which meant...if he was lucky, Jenny was nowhere about and had not been grabbed. If she were around...maybe she had just misplaced their coordinates and landed them on board a spaceship abover Earth. Earth! He wondered if they were aboard the Titanic, and ventured his gaze about as he took his first cautious steps. No, he decided, definitely not the Titanic. This ship had a more...metallic feel, a more cold, stern, lack of humanity about it. But there were no lifesigns aboard, or none that his sonic screwdriver could detect. And yet it was detecting some sort of power source, one that he didn't recognize. Pointing his screwdriver about revealed it to be all around them...which was less than helpful.

The further down the hall he went, he realized that there was some sort of dampening field in affect. It was preventing him from scanning for lifeforms, or tracking the power core of the spaceship. Unless of course, there was no power core, and...

He stopped and his eyes averted as he thought he heard movement down the hall. Sticking his sonic back in his pocket, he continued along, eyes wary for any Daleks or Cybermen to pop out. Instead, what he found at the turn in the hall was a beautiful human. It wasn't Jenny, but it was still definitely human.

"Sarah Jane!" He practically ran over in his enthusiasm, to assist her in any help she needed finding her feet. Lots of questions were running through his mind, such as how she made it here, or whether she had been scooped up much like he had felt he had. "What are you doing here? I didn't realize you..." And then he stopped, and stared, the enthusiastic smile being wiped off his face. The Sarah Jane he had met in his 10th incarnation was looking a good 30 years younger. Suddenly he realized, he was looking at a much younger version of his former companion. Still older than when she had stepped out of his fourth incarnation's Tardis, but... "I mean..." He stopped, realizing that he had no explanation for why he recognized Sarah Jane, when she hadn't met him again yet. Frantically, he searched for the nearest excuse available, and latched onto her journalism. "I saw your picture, in the paper. That was a really fantastic article you wrote," he said, grabbing for her hand to shake it, his enthusiastic smile reappearing, but being much more guarded. "You know with those things, and them."

She tried to get up and found herself too dizzy.  She'd only made it up as high as one elbow, face lost in the spill of her dark hair when someone, inexplicably, called her name.  She jerked her head around, hair flying now, her eyes and mouth round with her surprise.  The speaker was coming right at her;  some sort of librarian looking fellow, his coat a-billow in his haste.  She may have let out a short shriek the instant she'd seen him, but now she was standing (well, reclining) her ground with an upthrust chin and a frown of confusion that was near the exact opposite of this fellow's smile.

She was somewhat won over when he didn't trample her and he did give her a hand up.  She took it, glad to be on her feet when all had gone to such straight chaos.  She held on to his hand and took a bit of a grip on his wrist with her other hand as the room gave it's last spin.

He was tall and lean with a neat bandbox style.  His hair seemed entirely out of control, a haphazard perfection of spike and flare.  His face was neatly chiseled, his sharp features enormously softened by brown eyes as soft and lashed as an owls.  Endless brown and welcoming.  Clear.  Then there was his smile.   Whomever he was, he was absolutely delighted to see her.  Her frown lightened into a slow, confused smile. He peppered her with questions, that is he quizzed until he suddenly shut down, smile turning off like a switch  She let go of him.

"What-?"
"I mean-"
"What-?!

The fellow completely changed in manor and took her hand as though they had not yet met.  A brisk shake that she withdrew from, suddenly wary as he lied to her.  She stepped back and raised a delicately dark winged eyebrow at him crossing her arms in challenge as she spoke.

"One of my readers from Earth?" She asked sceptically, then cocked her head at the view port beside her showing deep and naked space. "You didn't give the port window view very much of a glance.  Why is that?" She'd seen him see it and dismiss it to speak with her.  Was this yet another Alien coming after her to use against the Doctor? She knew a set-up when she saw it. Her eyes did her best to be covert as she started planning her exit. Just in case.  She was thinking about the mace in her pocket.

It was hard to believe there was any wickedness in those clear brown eyes.

Sarah Jane. Oh Sarah Jane, so clever and brilliant and observant, and definitely not believing him. Come on Doctor, he thought to himself, sound more convincing. "The port window?" He asked blankly, before he turned his attention away from Sarah Jane towards one of the windows. There was the pure blackness of space dotted with tiny little white specks meeting him, something he hadn't paid attention to yet because it wasn't important just yet. "Oh! The port window!" He rushed over, pressing his nose and practically his face against the window as he peered out. Nothing but the blackness of space met him, but if he looked down, there was definitely something below. A planet? It wasn't earth, because it was radiating a purple hue. And earth definitely wasn't purple, last time he checked. Running over to one of the starboard windows, he peered out and downward, still seeing the same exact thing. Whatever it was, it had to be directly under them.

"Definitely not Earth. Assuming that is a planet. Though can't say where we are without a closer look," he said after a minute before hopping down from the window and turning to face Sarah. His eyes regarded her critically for a moment as he tried to analyze her. How old was she now, 35, 36? She'd probably received his K-9 present by now, assuming that he hadn't sent it to the wrong time again. Still it didn't tell her whether she'd come here on her own, how long she had been here, whether or not she knew anything, and whether or not his earlier incarnation was nearby. Oh, that'd be bad, but he didn't feel the hum of the Tardis, and he certainly didn't remember coming here. She also seemed incredibly disorientated, lying on the ground, so he thought it safe to assume for the moment, that she had been hit by the same thing he had been hit with. Although if that was the case, the why was confounding him, considering they would have been snatched out of two different periods of time. Although relatively speaking, they weren't TOO different periods of time, being in the 20th to early 21st century, and both of them had been on Earth. Still, they no longer ran together, and he couldn't help the slight frown that crossed his face.

But first, a better explanation she'd be more likely to believe. "Well, actually, yes, I have read some of your articles, but I've heard alot about you from..." he measured her reaction carefully as he responded, "The Doctor. Really nice fellow, bit crazy looking though, with that hair and that scarf and..." he cleared his throat, flashing an awkward smile. "But anyway!" He exclaimed, beginning to run about from side to side, continuing on as if his brief explanation was enough to hold water, which he hoped it was. "Great big spaceship that's orbiting a planet that definitely isn't Earth and has a dampening field blocking me from getting any readings. Tell me Sarah Jane," he said as he spun around to face her, back to the rest of the hallway. "What were you investigating that led you," he waved his finger in the air for effect, "Out here? Anything funny going on on Earth?"

Whomever he was, he was quick.  Those brown eyes that hid so little were instantly seeking the truth.  His truth.  Hers.  And what was outside the window.  A rather impossible violet light etched along the perfect, angled, line of his jaw; his expressive left eyebrow of which she was already intrigued by.

She should have listened to K-9, who had told her not to go out.  However, if she stayed in every time he begged her not to go, Earth would already be a-swamp with some invasion.  

Sarah Jane crossed down to the port window as the man teetered about like a lazy top.  He was right. Not Earth.  Not by a long shot.  As fascinating as the fellow was, and as wary as she yet need be, there was still no holding back the wave of appreciation she felt to be in space again. To be looking down on an alien planet again.  It was like seeing yet another painting of your favorite artist that you never new existed.  She put a hand to the window and found it barely cool to the touch as she pressed her palm there.  She dare say that it would be warm to stand under that strange pink sun, to feel the planet's basalt under her.

"Just tell me the truth, there isn't any point in fibbing now, is there?"

"Well, actually, yes, I have read some of your articles, but I've heard alot about you from the Doctor." She felt her mouth pop open. "Really nice fellow, bit crazy looking though, with that hair and that scarf and..."

She tore her gaze away from the planet. "Hey! Don't push, Mister Pinstripe on Monday Morning!" She snapped, reacting reflexively to her friend being teased even as deep inside her there was a strange lurch.  Her Doctor? Alive?

"But anyway!" His smile was nervous.  That was a good sign.  

From there he peppered her with questions and speculation.   Frankly, there was something so inviting about him, she was tempted to just jump in to this interstellar game of twenty questions.  Her eyebrows were quite judgmental, as was her stiff upper lip and the flare of her nostrils.

"You can call me Ms. Smith.  You're not as charming as you think." Now she was the one who was lying, but life had taught her to be wary. "For all I know, you're some tailored dream bent on winnowing Earth's secrets from me.  So prove he told you something about me.  And what he told you matters just as much, you know.  And I'd have your name as well."

It took an act of will not to tap her foot.

The smile fell from the Metacrisis Doctor's face as he stared at Sarah. "I'm not?" He asked blankly as Sarah Jane told him he was not charming. He felt tempted to look in the mirror to see what was wrong with him at that moment, if only there were a mirror on this big, great, giant spaceship. Didn't he have an honest face? He knew he had an honest face. So he tilted his head slightly, lips pursed as he listened to Sarah Jane ask for proof. This would be hard. Well not too hard, but he had to make sure it was something one of his enemies couldn't have seen. On the other hand, he had to make sure he didn't accidentally say something that only the Doctor and Sarah Jane would know...like a specific quote.

"John Smith," he said after a bit. "I'm John Smith. That might get awkward. People on this ship might think we're related," he said, waving his finger back and forth. "Assuming there are people..." His eyes carried a slight wandering off look as his mind drifted to the problem with the spaceship. "Got to get to the control room of this thing..."

He snapped his mind back to the present, and Sarah Jane impressively hiding her impatience from him as she waited for definite proof. He wasn't going to get anywhere while she didn't believe him. "Well let's see," he said, taking in a deep inhale. "Daleks, and cybermen, and zygons, and that computer..." He paused a moment as his eyes looked down to the floor. "Actually, nevermind, not that. But anyway!" He took a step forward, shrugging his shoulders slightly as a partial smile came back on his face. "He told you...well he told me that he told you, that he hated working for UNIT and you suggested he resign. And ginger beer!" He raised a hand, a full grin spreading across his features. "Ah, that ginger beer. If it hadn't been for that, well..." He stopped explaining before he'd sink himself too much. "And the crate!" Then he froze, trying to remember if he had sent it in 1978, or 1988. He hoped he hadn't gotten the year wrong again, like he was want to do. "You did get it, right?"

Well, he was charming, but she wasn't going to let on.  She could tell already that she had a tiger by the ears.  He flashed with life, his face a mobility of his feelings.  She dare say his words were evasive, but his face hid nothing.  

Her feet did not move as he clearly wished to lead the way to the control room.  

Still, he seemed a nice enough bloke, quick to answer her questions even though he was clearly taken a back by her questioning his story.  She didn't manage to entirely keep a straight face as the charismatic fellow dug up and produced some tales to relay.  Tales that fell quite well enough with the truth.  It was knowledge of the crate that won her over to this man being not an enemy of the Doctor's, but a casual acquaintance and maybe even a friend.  He certainly had that certain sparkle people had whom he befriended.  Her worries were knocked in half.  For now, she'd believe until she heard otherwise.  She flashed a smile at him.

"I found the crate 3 years ago in 1981, but goodness knows how long it languished up there before I noticed my name was on it." She paused, her face melting with the look of fond indulgence.  K-9 came quite in handy sometimes, but she wished the Doctor had made the trundling tin dog able to open doors for itself. And perhaps less chatty.  And opinionated.  Thankfully, K-9 had been in deep self repair for weeks.

It was hard to not like a nose laser, however, and a voice activated intergalactic encyclopedia.  And how he looked out for her.

She tilted her head at the man's hopeful face.
"He does like his ginger beer, doesn't he?" Now she bit her lip. "Well alright, 'John Smith - '" She was somewhat more skeptical of his supposed name.  However, they could work out the details later.  Now she wanted some quick ideas of where they were, why they were here, and how they were going to get home.  She freed her lip, and her ideas.

"If we find the control room, we're not using the com.  If you know him too, and we just beat the odds of random interstellar travel by landing inside this ship full of air, instead of out there-" She pointed out the window. "Then this might be a trap for the Doctor.  We're going to fly this thing to civilization is what we're going to do. Somehow.  She pointed a quick finger in the direction he'd been about to dart in, then followed with her feet. "Lets find it."

The smile on her face was enough to let the Metacrisis Doctor know that she believed him. And he felt relieved that she had received the crate and it hadn't arrived twenty years in the future. He was sure she appreciated having K-9 around, but he merely nodded, expressing his satisfaction with a "Good." And the moment that Sarah Jane firmly asserted her opinions, he couldn't help the grin and slight tilt of her head at the expression on her face. Good old Sarah Jane, it was definitely good to see her again.

"Right! Off we go then!" As tempted as he was to go barreling down the hall, he kept a steady if eager pace, his legs just begging to be let loose. He was fully aware though, that this could be some sort of trap for himself, or rather his other self, and it made him twitch his eyebrows in consternation. For someone to have picked him so deliberately, he wondered who the culprit was. Was it an enemy? Was it someone who needed his help? Was the transmat, he assumed it was a transmat, beam even for him? Why Sarah Jane? What did they want from her? She was known for stopping alien threats on Earth, while he was known for being in the right place at the right time in time and space, time and again. Was that what this was? Someone needed the two who were best known for stopping alien threats as non violently as possible? If that was the case, who was it, and what did they need them for?

While he thought, and for the moment remained quiet, he paid attention to his surroundings. Panel after panel they passed of hard solid metal, and not a trace of life did they see. No people, no robots, no animals, no nothing. Not even the distant sounds of engines working and parts moving against parts. Just the steady hum thrum vibration of the deck plating beneath his shoes.

And then there was something. Something very distant but noticably different. Slowing to a stop, he stuck his finger in the air, emitting a quick succession of shushes before he himself went quiet. "You hear that?" It was like a slight skittering noise of metal against metal, with a faint grinding noise. His senses were not as good as they had been before, but he could still detect that low note. And it seemed to be getting closer. Turning back and forth, he noted that there was nothing in the hall to surprise them. Still just the same empty corridor they had walked through before. His hand reached into his pocket for his sonic, but he stopped himself in time. He really didn't want to pull it out and tip Sarah Jane off, and he couldn't scan with the dampening field anyhow. So he just relied on his senses as he poked his head down a two way junction. Nothing there, just more boring unemotional hallway.

The moment he turned his head the other way, he reeled back in surprise as there was something blocking his vision. Flailing, he almost fell back as he grabbed for the silvery object that had attached itself to his head. With little silver eyes and sharp little knives for teeth, he knew exactly what it was, and wasted no time in trying to get it off. For its size, the cybermat sure was strong and fought back just as hard to stay on. With a sharp fling, he managed to rid himself of the metallic menace and send it skittering across the floor. Once it had stopped, it didn't stay still for long. With a sharp twist of its body, it was back on its feet and moving with blinding speed, this time for Sarah Jane. With a growl, the Doctor spun on his feet as it went underneath him.

"Oh no you don't!" If it weren't for the evidently clumsy look of falling to the floor, he would've looked graceful as he went from spin to leap, landing on top of the cybermat as it went for a leap. He felt it twist beneath him, snap its teeth at his jacket, before sliding out from under him as if oiled. His hand slapped out, grabbing it firmly by the neck, but he wouldn't be able to hold it long. He needed to deactivate it.

She'd gotten used to going first. She'd gotten used to being alone.  When he first left her, it had not occurred to her that sleuthing was better in pairs, and not just for the jokes.  It wasn't the same without the Doctor. Oh, she felt the same burning to understand. To protect.  She sure missed that Sonic Screwdriver though, and the fellow with the long legs.

She was taken aback by the confidence of Mr.Smith.  You see, though she had no constant companion, she certainly did not work in a vacuum.  She'd just gotten used to going first because no one else stepped up to do it.  This man walked beside her.  His clear brown eyes were as alert as one might hope.  He wasn't fretting, or flirting.  They'd barely spoken, but she was beginning to think she liked his company.  She could imagine the Doctor liking him alright. Perhaps.  He had class enough, now that he'd stopped fibbing to her.  Now it was just the sound of their footsteps, until he stopped short.

"Wha-"
"Shh . .shh shh shh"

She froze, not even breathing, eyes everywhere. She was suddenly more aware of the hum of the engines.  

"W-"  She started, then she heard it, a furtive, inorganic scurry. "I do!" She said at an enthusiastic whisper.  She held still a moment longer trying to identify the direction, but Smith had it already, moving quickly ahead, then peeking around the bend. She was right at his heels, keeping an eye on their back trail.  She whirled around at a sudden muffled grunt from Smith, only to see him battling with some metallic mask of some sort with glittering, whipping spikes.

She shrieked and stumbled back in surprise.  Smith tore the thing from his face with main force, flinging it back through the junction to Sarah Jane's enormous relief, and she sagged against the wall.  She and Smith got only a heartbeat to look at each other and share the shock before the metal object came whizzing around the corner fast enough to catch air.  Instantly, Sarah Jane knew that the arch it was on would bring it as surely to her as it had attacked Smith.

When had she fallen? She didn't even remember it, but she scrabbled backward as that thing came streaking toward her.

"Oh no you don't!" Smith burst out with, stunning Sarah Jane as he lunged with selfless determination to intercept the hurtling metal bit.   Now that, was one hell of an admirer.  He caught it.  They both went down from his flying leap, her scream poured all atop events.  Smith scrabbled with the thing, somehow containing it, though that seemed near impossible.  Why would he do it? That question on her mind slowed her no more than one second as she looked for a solution.  

This was not necessarily  ship for humans, but a ship was a ship. She lurched to her feet, looked down the wall, scooped up some piece of equipment that was not unlike a lorry jack. She yanked it from it's holder, ran three hard steps, then flung it down at the thing as hard as she could.  She might hit the man's hand, but it was the best plan she had.  She threw it hard, and it struck the thrashing metal beast square.

Then her weapon bounced off Smith's head quite sharply.  He went down hard.  The metal beasty continued to thrash with alarming vitality, but it had clearly lost it's senses, spinning, sparking, and squealing.  Was it rimmed with knives?!  It was a terrible thing.  She was equally terrible as she scooped up the jack, stepped right over Smith, and bashed that thing five more times before it's cogs started to fall out and the lighted eyes went dim.  She dropped her heavy weapon, and crumpled down to her knees next to the limp Smith.  He looked so nice when he was unconscious.

"Hey?" Her voice broke with worry, and she closed a hand over his shoulder.  "John."   She pulled to straighten him out. "John!"  There was a red mark and a bit of a goose egg rising high on his forehead.  She caught his hand, giving a firm rub and a rap. "Please, wake up~!"

The cybermat was strong as it squirmed, and as Sarah Jane moved off, he reached in his coat for his sonic screwdriver. A quick few pulses and he would have the thing deactivated. He switched his grip on the creature, but with a sudden twist the thing had moved its mouth around to his hand. With a slight exclamation of pain, he let it go, and watched as it began to scurry away. Now he'd have to catch it all over again, and he might not be as lucky the next time. But he barely had time to think, or get his screwdriver, before a loud bang sounded, followed by a terrible squeaking and sparking. He looked up in time to see the thing scurrying around in a tight circle, before a large object came into view. Then blackness followed.

He lay slumped on the floor, momentarily unconscious as Sarah Jane moved him. Frantic chatter sounded in his ears as his eyes scrunched down, the first notions of reality coming back to him. Then pain followed in rolling waves, and he lolled his head to the side as he emitted a groan. It would've been enough to make him sick had he been fully human, and even with his bit timelord his stomach was having a hard time coping. Swallowing, he opened his eyes, preparing himself for the dizzying array of black and silver lines. Sarah Jane's anxious form loomed over him, young, pretty, just as he had left her when she stormed out of his Tardis. For a moment, he had a brief memory lapse, wondering if they were on Peladon and where the ice warriors are.

"Ohhh, my head..." he moaned, his eyes closed. His head was still rolling and spinning in waves, and he needed a few seconds for it to abate. "Gotta stop...sonic lance..." He mumbled under his breath. He lay there for half a minute, still, unmoving as his body took its time recovering from the concussion.

He did not rouse.  The reality of that chilled her.  She actually shivered as there was another scurrying, the temperature in her hope dropping low.

Then she shot to her feet like a doe as the scurry sounded from a third vector.  She looked around until she saw a door with a humble, clear, uncompromisable sign.  It was sign enough though. She bent, caught him under the arms, and thanked the stars the flooring was easy enough to drag him over, though she groaned and cursed his length more than once.

"Ohhh, my head."
"Shhh. .shhhh  quiet. Hang on. . John. "

The door unlatched at the press of her palm, but she had to shove it open, drag Smith through, and then get it closed again.  Just as she had hoped, it was a storage closet of some sort.  Empty now except shelving, a squared bucket, and what she was most thankful for, the dim emergency lighting that began to glow even as she shut the door.  It was dim and warm as a single candle, emitting from a grate near the floor.  She looked down on him, hands on hips, and shaking her head at her own mistake.

"Gotta stop...sonic lance..." he burst out, suddenly fretful. She folded down knees at once, and getting behind him as he curled up.  The last thing she wanted was his poor head down on the metal floor.  She caught him from ear to jaw with her forearm, and curled the other around his shoulder to the crook of his neck to keep him from sliding.  She carefully fanned her fingers to cradle the curve there.  He jolted in her arms.

"Shhh . .shhh . .we got away, John . .they can't come in."

Well, she hoped they couldn't come in.

"Don't try to talk yet." She said.  Half so he'd just relax, half so she could hear.  The room seemed small, she could see the extent of it, and there didn't seem to be any obvious openings. Well, there was a drain in the middle of closet like space, but it had a sturdy cover over it.

She ran cool fingers to lift the hair away from his injury and get a better look.  She sipped air for him.

He didn't even register that he was being dragged yet, though he had a faint feeling they were going somewhere. The more it continued, the more he became convinced that they were going the wrong way! He wasn't sure which way was the right way, but any way but this...this...his arm clawed out to grab something, anything, to hold on. He had already stopped moving, and he realized dazedly that he was lying on the floor. He had to get up, had to stop the weapon from being used...but someone was stopping him from moving. Why was it that people always had to stop him from doing what he needed to do?

Then he registered the feeling of touch, arms around his body, gentle strokes moving against his neck. A female voice cut through the brain fog, shushing him and telling him it was alright. For a few brief seconds, his mind and body wanted to relax and sink into that relative safety. "Rose..." he muttered, a million scenes breezing by in a wavy, foggy kind of way. His mind sped away from the ice warriors and back to the relative present. Blond hair, beautiful brown eyes, and a lovely smile...always there, always having the right answer for him. Traversing the galaxy, they saw so many things with his new form, experienced so many new adventures. His mind didn't want to go any further than that, but it did. It plunged deeper, and he realized Rose wasn't there. She couldn't be, he'd seen her...being sucked into the void and only saved by a mere inch by her alternate father.

"Rose, no," he begged, breaking the silence once again. He flailed his arms trying to get up, trying to get free and go after her. It was all his fault for not being able to save her. It was all Torchwood's fault for letting the cybermen through. It was all the cybermen's fault for...for invading. And the Daleks, yes the Daleks, he couldn't forget about them. Always surviving while he lost everything...while he lost Rose. He wasn't about to lose Rose again, he refused to! He hissed, partially in anger, partially in pain, and partially with guilt.

But he hadn't stopped them all. The cybermen were still out there. He knew, he had seen one of them. One of their little scouts, and...what had happened to it? He blanked out at that point, but it didn't matter. He had a plan, he always did. The cybermen were roaming about this...this...where was he again? Vaguely he knew it was a ship, but he imagined it as the Torchwood tower. Maybe down in the basement. He had to go up to the tower, and open the void. The cybermen would all be sucked out, and they'd be safe. He'd be safe, his companion would be safe, Rose would be...Rose, Rose, where was she?!

"Control room," he breathed out. "Need to open the void..." his eyes opened blearily as he clawed for support, tried to get up. "Which way..." His voice sounded confused. "Where are we?"

His eyes opened, fighting for focus.  His swing gaze settled on hers for a moment, and she was thrilled to see neither of his pupils were blown.

"Rose-" He named her, his voice full of hope.
"Shhh- Rose isn't here.  Be quiet!" She whispered with some desperation.

He fretted, clearly lost somewhere between consciousness and unconsciousness.  She got his blood on the sleeve of her shirt as she tried to cradle his head and shoulders off of the hard ground.  His hands reached fretfully, jerking in small, incomplete spasms.

"Rose- no!" He called out in a voice so clearly choked with pain it brought the unexpected prick of tears to her own eyes.  She pulled him up further to get an arm braced over his to hug tightly to his body.

"Shhh-" She'd got her knee up a little farther to help brace his side.  Then he jerked hard in her arms and she had to put him down. "Please, wake up!" she begged, kneeling beside him and catching at one flailing arm as he started to cry out in short, disjointed desperation.   She covered his mouth with her hand, hearing another scurry somewhere on the floor above them.  A moment later sense came back into his eyes, bleary, but all accounted for. She took the hand from his mouth.

"Where are we?"

"Hey." She smiled down at him, and lifted a lock of his hair out of the crust of blood on his head.We're in the linen closet of an alien spaceship, somewhere hundreds of light years from Earth." She said.  She found she was still holding his hand and using her leg to press his arm to his side.  The pain in his voice tore at her and she wasn't quite ready to let go of him.

His head whirled and he fell back, blinking his eyes to clear away the shutters and insects. Staring up, he realized there was a face in his field of vision. A pale face with a dark curtain covering her features. For a moment, he wanted to say Rose, but it turned out to be someone else. Sarah Jane. A moment of confusion crossed his features, as he listened to her words. Since when had they gone onto a spaceship? Did he park his Tardis in yet another one? But he hadn't had a Tardis in quite some time, because...because...dang, why was that bit of knowledge evading him?

Pushing it aside for the moment, he decided to focus on what he did know. They were in an alien spaceship. Okay, no big deal. They were in a linen closet. Nothing strange at all there. Hundreds of light years from Earth? Yup, just a normal day. Sarah Jane above him? Well, a nice coincidence, but strange nonetheless. That didn't just happen. Peering up at her much clearer form, he flashed a smile. "Sarah Jane! Good to see you again! You're looking quite young for...for..." Then he blanked out again, and stared at her harder. Oh he knew he'd established this prior, but he seemed to be going over the knowledge as if he'd just discovered it. Or perhaps rediscovered it. But still, he wasn't supposed to meet her after she'd left his prior self's Tardis, but before she met his later, but earlier in his timestream, self. Things would go all wibbly wobbly! She didn't know what the Doctor looked like until then!

He jumped up out of her lap, and twisted on his heels to look at her, to furrow his brow in consternation. Instead, he did an awkward tumble backwards, falling into a pile of buckets, mops, and broomsticks. He moaned as a loud clang filled his ears, and he curled over onto his side partially as he pressed his hand against his forehead. Besides a deep sharp throbbing, he was met with the wet stickiness of blood. His own. "Ow..." he complained as he pushed at the floor, scooting himself into a better position to look at his hand. "What was that?" Licking it, he mulled over the taste of iron that came with it. Human blood. Hold on, he was timelord, wasn't he?

He rallied, looking up at her suddenly bright eyed. He seemed happy to see her, as though they'd been at a tea party together and had lost track of each other for a moment. That was one hell of a tea party he'd just been to. She was feeling guilty.

John suddenly thrust himself quickly to his feet, and she was startled beyond measure that he could do such a thing. She'd never forget the whang of the metal as it has bounced off his head. He was perky and full of sudden enthusiasm. Then she watched his lips go white and his eyes roll up. She thrust herself to her feet, catching him around the narrow waist and winding up tangled in equipment with him. It was almost as bad as the sentient forest outside Harrison Chase's mansion when she and the Doctor had fought the Krinod. How she wished her friend was here now.

She did her best to keep them both on their feet, but he went down again in a terrible clatter. More of those silver things would come, she was sure of it.

"Settle down! Stop! Stay down!" He lay still a moment, then examined his head. She was panting and crouched close to him. "You got that when that thing attacked you." She explained. "Hit your head something terrible."

She chose that minute not to mention that it had been her, and not that little monster, that had got him in the head. Her voice went harsh.

"We're in a lot of trouble, Smith, you need to be more quiet!"

Sarah Jane was instantly beside him, ever the dutiful and caring companion. But he was too confused to do anything but stare at the blood on his fingertips. This wasn't right. He wasn't human. He was a timelord. He was 906 years old, and had used up nine regenerations. He had a rich history full of the timelords, flying about the galaxy with his granddaughter and with dozens of companions, saving worlds from Daleks and cybermen and other creatures. He was definitely not human. And yet the blood on his fingers was tinted a bright red, with a dull iron taste in his mouth. This had to be some sort of crazy dream, some sort of nightmare played out by his enemies. But just to be sure, he pressed his hand to his chest. Answering him, was the dull thump thump of his single heart.

"One heart," he murmurred, looking phased out and in shock. Thinking back to what Sarah Jane had said, he wondered. Had he received such a huge headache because one of his hearts had stopped and was no longer supplying enough blood? But he felt no severe heart pain when he tried moving, only a headache. And that didn't explain the blood on his forehead either. No, something had hit him or bit him. His finger traced the length of his forehead, feeling the wound. It didn't exactly feel like a bite, there were no puncture wounds or rips. In fact, if he was feeling it right, the exterior seemed a bit dented. That little cyber scout wasn't that strong, was it? No, as wild and aggressive as it had been, it was not that strong. There was something else, something he was missing. And this only one heart issue wasn't helping matters.

"Hm?" he looked over at Sarah Jane was she spoke. "Smith? Are you talking to yourself?" He stared blankly at her, before the light came on in his eyes. "Oh! Oh you mean me! Is that who I am!" It took him a moment to remember his alias he used half the time when he was undercover. He couldn't help but flash a grin too, as he vaguely remembered telling Sarah Jane his name was John Smith. "Trouble, you're telling me, I've only got one har--shh!" He suddenly put his finger to his lips, and for once, went completely quiet. His eyes flickered back and forth as he listened, hearing the scurrying of something above them. Like a fascinated child, he carefully crawled out of Sarah Jane's arms and pressed his ear to the wall. The hollow hum of the ship filled his ears, as well as the faint scurrying of...little mice? No, little wheels.

"There's one...no maybe two," he said, his hand pressed up against the wall for support. "One above, and one..." he paused as his eyes flickered above, and then around. The sound had stopped, he wasn't quite sure where it had gone.

She backed up.

Backed away from him.

He was lying to her again.

But he'd put his actual body between her and that beastie that had come right for her face.

He was manipulating her. Even now as he was getting back to helping her with the trouble.

Her voice came out sharp and angry, volume barely contained.

"What are you playing at? What are you hiding . .is this some sort of test . . . ? Is this your trap?" She'd gotten as far from him as the room would allow, entirely ignoring all his helpful information on the location of the scurriers. Well, she did pay attention, but tucked it aside in her mind.

Silence filled the air as he tried to determine where the other cybermat had gone. It had stopped, but he had thought it to be very close. Too close. If he could see through the walls, he could've imagined one sitting there, staring in their direction, waiting for them to make a sound.

Just when he heard an additional scurrying, Sarah Jane began to talk. Angrily. A look of frustration crossed his face as he could no longer hear where it was, and he mentally willed for Sarah Jane to stop talking. He put his hand up in the air, as he nearly smashed his ear against the wall, but it didn't help. She was still talking, and as she continued, his mind digested what she was saying. Or rather, he heard, and his mind was wheeling through it all in confusion.

"What?!" he exclaimed, giving her a sideways glance. "My trap? What are you talking about? I'm listening for cybermats and you're..." He gestured wildly for the right word, before his ears detected movement. "Hold on," he interrupted himself as he looked back to the wall. He ran his teeth over his tongue lightly as he picked up the nearer one again. It seemed to be really close, if not right outside the wall. There was also another sound, but it was way off in the distance and he couldn't pinpoint it.

"Shhh." He pushed himself up from the wall slowly. He was unsteady, but his head was not about to dump him on the floor again. Not unless he did something sudden and rash, which he probably would eventually. Raising his eyebrows, he crept over to the metal cover which looked like it could lead anywhere. Though without lifting the lid off, it was impossible to tell if they'd fit through. It could've been a drain, or it could've been some kind of vent. Or...well, he didn't know yet. "There's one of them outside, and something else...probably not a good something else," he remarked as he seated himself by the metal lid. Grabbing it, he hoisted, but instead of getting it off, he only fell back.

"It would be sealed," he muttered as he righted himself and reached into his pocket. For a moment, he had a reservation about using his screwdriver. But now wasn't the time to think on it, or Sarah Jane's reaction, when there was a cybermat at the door and they had to get out. Flipping it out and switching the settings with a professional ease, he rested the end near the edge of the metal cover and began buzzing it.

He shushed her.

Not only did he shush her, he ignored her.

Her umbrage was quite roused, and in no small part because of the realization that maybe it wasn't all about her.  He wasn't even thinking about her right now. He hadn't used this moment's respite to sweet talk her, ply her; strangle her.   Instead, he was busy.  Quite effectively busy.  She really didn't know what to make of him.  His busy scrambles made him seem less of a threat.

"Cybermats? That tiny little thing was a Cybermat? And what do you mean something else?"  She was unconsciously rubbing at her throat where she'd once been bitten and pumped full of virus by a Cybermat eight times the size of the one that had attacked them just now.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard the Sonic, but not for why you'd think.  She was down beside him in a moment, getting a good close look at the thing.  She shot him a hard look, and her voice was full of annoyed jealousy.

"The Doctor made you a Sonic Screwdriver?!"

Well. Well. Well. So that is how things were between the Doctor and this 'John Smith'.

How was he supposed to answer that question? The Doctor's eyes flickered over to Sarah Jane's as his screwdriver buzzed away, noting the burning gaze in her eyes. "Um well...something like that," he said almost dismissively, and with a shrug as he slowly peeled away the seal. Flipping it up in the air, he caught and shoved it back into his pocket, if only to show off slightly. Then grabbing the lid with a heavy grunt, he hoisted it to the side, and let it hit the floor with a clang. Seeing what was inside, he flashed another one of his wide grins.

"A power conduit! Well, small one anyway. Not something you see every day in the floor of a janitor's closet. Side of the wall, maybe." He could do alot with a small power module; hook it up to his sonic and tap into the computer systems, activate power to certain locations, or simply open doors. However opening the door would prove dangerous, probably letting in a cybermat or two. At the worst, a cyberman. Reaching into the conduit, he fiddled with a few wires, before being met with a sharp spark of elecricity.

"Ouch," he muttered as he snapped his hand back and moved away from the hole in the floor. "Anyway," he said as he stood up, still cautious for his head, but slowly regaining his energy that sent him flying about. "Need to get out of here, preferably not by that door," he said, pointing to the door with his screwdriver. Then he panned it along the wall, it buzzing as it looked for some kind of secret panel in the wall. When he came to the ceiling, he found himself face to face with a ceiling vent. He could see simple magnetic screws holding it in place, but that was ok. A good screwdriver, especially a sonic one, would work. However, when he attempted to climb, or rather jump, up to a high vantage point to reach the crate, he promptly lost his balance and crashed into the wall and the floor.

"On second thought, bad idea," he said as he vibrated his temple slowly with his fingers. Dried blood flaked off, but he paid it no mind as he scooted over to the small power access. His eyes flickered up occasionally as he heard the little squeaky wheel noises, and he was sure he could hear more of them. No doubt he was attracting alot of attention, and he didn't know how long it'd be before they got the door open. And if they followed them into the vent, they'd be in some sure trouble.

"Take this, get the vent open," he said as he tossed his sonic screwdriver towards Sarah Jane. "I'll rig something up with this conduit and the door. Should stun those little things when they try to come in." As soon as Sarah Jane had the sonic, he turned his attention back to the electrical conduit and dug in.

She did not help him with the lid. She was busy digesting what he had said, and what he had not said.  His familiarity with a  Sonic Screwdriver, she noted as he flipped it in his hand and slid it away all in one smooth motion, was unsettlingly  intimate.  

Cheeky.  

Still, his current attitude had her on his team. He was certainly dedicated to figuring out what to do.  For the time being, she tried to see what she could do.  His stunt with the crate went badly, but she could do little more than get out of the way.  She didn't know what was next more surprising. That he was perfectly fine, or that he wanted her to try it next. She caught the Sonic smack in her hand.

"What? Have you been spending time with award-winning gymnasts, or something?

Well, okay, Sarah Jane Smith, what do you know more about right now than the Doctor . . . .?  Ah! She knew more about humans! This closet would be multi purpose. The shelves would not be bolted down, making them adjustable.  But underneath, there would be slots for the brackets.  Enough to toe up, she'd bet.  Doing her best not to hit the Doctor in the head, she took hold the lowest shelf, and put it on her shoulder.  It was too heavy, but she didn't have to go far.  Two steps, tilt it up, and next thing you knew she was ramming the shelf groove-side-up into the recess leading to the vent as enthusiastically as Mr.Grinch stealing a Christmas tree.

"Here! John, give me a foot! plant it here-" she pointed at the 10 inch end of the wood where it was angled against the floor and leaned up inside that rim of ceiling hatch.  Too steep an angle, maybe, but it would have to do.

Braced by the Doctor's foot, she scrambled up with determination and perched there with her toes in a tiny strut while she loosened that vent. it fell to the floor.

"Here!" She tossed the sonic back, she would need both hands to climb further.