As the Doctor pulled back the curtain and ducked through the low door into the Carrionites' lair, he felt the timelines tighten in warning. But he didn't need time senses to know he and Martha were walking into a trap.

A Carrionite masquerading as a young woman waited for them by the window. "I take it we're expected," the Doctor said as he surveyed the room.

She lifted a mocking eyebrow. "Oh, I think Death has been waiting for you a very long time."

Before the Doctor could conjure a retort to that, Martha tapped his arm. "Right then, it's my turn." She took a step forward and stared down the Carrionite. "I know how to do this," she added, holding a finger out. "I name thee Carrionite!"

But instead of shrieking in pain, the young woman only gasped dramatically before rolling her eyes and laughing at Martha.

"What did I do wrong?" Martha looked back at the Doctor. "Was it the finger?"

The Carrionite stalked towards them. "The power of a name works only once. Observe." She pointed at Martha. "I gaze upon this bag of bones and now I name thee Martha Jones."

"What have you done?" the Doctor shouted as Martha fainted back into his arms. He glared at the witch as he laid Martha down on the ground.

She pouted at her finger. "Only sleeping, alas. It's curious. The name has less impact. She's somehow out of her time." She shrugged, then flung her hand out to point at the Doctor. "And as for you, Sir Doctor."

The Doctor watched her warily. He could feel the witch probing his mental shields, trying to find a name in his telepathic signature.

She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes at him. "Fascinating," she murmured. "There is no name. Why would a man hide his title in such despair?"

The Doctor's hearts sped up against his will. Hiding his name had been an act of pragmatism, not despair. The despair she sensed… He clenched his jaw and tightened his shields, trying to protect the part of his mind that still ached for Rose.

A feline smile stretched across her face, and he knew he'd failed. "Oh, but look. There's still one word with the power that aches."

"The naming won't work on me," he bluffed, fear for Rose giving his voice an edge.

She simpered down at him, a malicious glint in her eyes. "But your heart grows cold. The north wind blows and carries down the distant Rose."

A powerful tug on his bond with Rose briefly distracted the Doctor from his rage at her name being used against him. He shook his head, then sucked in a breath when he felt a ripple in time.

"What?"

Even the Carrionite stepped back in shock when a shadowy outline of a figure appeared beside the Doctor. The Doctor only spared her a passing glance, enough to be certain she was too surprised to launch another attack.

Then he focused on the shape that was becoming more defined, even as the ache in his head faded. He held his breath, hardly daring to believe what he knew was happening, until Rose was standing in front of him.

"Rose," he breathed.

Her lips turned up in a soft smile. "Hello, Doctor."

He started to pull her into his arms, but then the witch grunted in annoyance and he remembered where they were. Later, he promised Rose, reflecting her joy and relief back to her.

"Well, that's not what was supposed to happen," the witch muttered.

Rose snorted. "Yeah, you'd be surprised how often that happens when the Doctor gets involved."

The Doctor winked at his wife, then swaggered towards the witch. "And that was a big mistake," he drawled. "Because the power of a name works only once, remember? So now instead of weakening me, you've brought me the one person who makes me stronger."

He looked down at her, his feigned joviality disappearing behind the Oncoming Storm. "The Carrionites vanished. Where did you go?"

She spun away from him to sulk, her arms crossed over her chest. "The Eternals found the right word to banish us into deep darkness."

"Then how did you get back here?"

The Doctor smiled at Rose. "Excellent question. How did you escape?"

The witch stomped up onto the platform by the window before looking back at them. "New words. New and glittering, from a mind like no other."

"Shakespeare." The Doctor nodded; it was all fitting together perfectly.

"What, really?" Rose asked.

The witch stepped forward and gestured to the bubbling cauldron, where a wavy image of a grieving Will appeared. "His son perished. The grief of a genius. Grief without measure. Madness enough to allow us entrance."

"How many of you?" the Doctor asked, homing in on the important point.

"Just the three."

When she turned her back on them again to return to the window, the Doctor nodded quickly in Martha's direction. Check on Martha, he told Rose, and she knelt down by the other woman's side.

"But the play tonight shall restore the rest," the witch declared viciously as she turned back around. "Then the human race will be purged as pestilence. And from this world we will lead the universe back into the old ways of blood and magic."

Martha's fine, Doctor. Breathing and pulse are good.

The Doctor nodded slowly, then started walking towards her. "Hmm. Busy schedule." He scratched his cheek. "But first you've got to get past me."

"Oh, that should be a pleasure," the witch said coyly, "considering my enemy has such a handsome shape."

Rose watched in disgust as the witch stroked the Doctor's face. But when she leaned forward to kiss him, that was too much.

"Oi!" She leapt to her feet. "Keep your hands off my husband."

The witch looked at her over the Doctor's shoulder. "Rest easy, Dame Rose. There is only one part of your husband I have any interest in." And before either Rose or the Doctor could say anything else, she clipped something next to his ear, then backed up several paces.

The Doctor felt his scalp near his right ear. "What was that for?" he demanded. "What did you do?"

She held up a tiny pair of scissors and the hairs she'd taken from him. "Souvenir."

"Give them back," Rose snarled, darting forward to grab the scissors from her hands.

Instead, the witch cackled and threw her arms wide. Behind her, the windows flung open and she flew backwards into the London night.

Rose ran to the open window, thinking she could vault through it and chase after her. The Doctor grabbed her arm on the way by and shook his head.

We're on the second storey, he explained, and Rose rolled her eyes. Of course they were.

To the witch floating fifteen feet above the street, he said, "Well, that's just cheating."

Rose watched through narrowed eyes as the witch reached into her pocket. She had another nasty surprise up her sleeve, Rose was sure of it.

"Behold, Doctor. Men to Carrionites are nothing but puppets." She finally brandished the crudely made doll she'd been concealing.

Rose could feel the Doctor's growing unease as the witch wrapped his hair around a wooden doll. "What is it, Doctor? What's she doing?"

"It's a DNA replication module," he said, his voice tight.

The witch shook her head. "What use is your science now?"

When she stabbed the scissors through the doll's heart, the Doctor groaned and collapsed against Rose, his hand to his chest. The effort it took to hold him up made it easy to ignore the echo of pain in the left side of her chest.

"Oh my God, Doctor!"

Rose's head snapped up, and she realised the Doctor's shout of pain had woken Martha up. "Martha, help me," she ordered. The other woman blinked at her, but jogged over without arguing.

"I'm just fine," the Doctor protested. But when he tried to stand on his own, he groaned again and his eyes widened. "I've only got one heart working. How do you people cope?" he muttered through gasping breaths.

Rose shook her head. "There you go again, insulting other species when you're upset. Martha, hold him up for me. We need to get his left heart started again."

Despite the questions in her eyes, Martha nodded and draped the Doctor's arm around her shoulders. When she was supporting his whole weight, Rose balled her hand up into a fist and pounded it on the left side of his chest.

The Doctor nodded quickly, then bent over with his hands resting on his knees. "Now, on the back, on the back."

Rose pounded on his back, but could immediately tell she'd gotten too close to the spine to do any good.

"Left a bit," the Doctor agreed.

She hit him again, and sighed when she felt the pain release.

"Dah, lovely." He straightened up and cracked his back. "There we go. Badda booma!" He looked from Martha to Rose. "Well, what are you standing there for? Come on! The Globe!"

Rose put her hand on his arm, keeping him from dashing off. "Just a minute, Doctor." She smiled at Martha. "We haven't been properly introduced. I'm Rose Tyler."

Martha's jaw dropped, and unless Rose was mistaken, a glimmer of consternation flickered through her eyes. It was quickly concealed however, and she held out a hand for Rose to shake.

"Martha Jones."

"Yes, lovely," the Doctor cut in impatiently. "Now could we get to the saving the universe bit?"

Rose took his hand and grinned up at him, letting her tongue peek through behind her teeth. "Run!"