The Doctor spun in place, slender fingers gliding across the TARDIS' controls. "How about Paris, nineteenth century?" he smiled warmly. "Haven't been there in ages, have we, old girl? We could go to the World's Fair, see the Eiffel Tower just after she was built. The iron lady above the city of light! Pond's going to—"

He paused as a tangle of thoughts sped through his brain. Right. She's not here, she's in Leadworth—no, she's at Demons Run.

Demons Run.

The Doctor's smile dimmed. It was so easy to lose track of when and where people were as you hopped in and out of their lives. He thought Amy could use a rest, so he had taken off alone for a while—but she was with Rory, after all. Rory the Roman, steadfast and true. And River.

He sighed. There were so many things that needed fixing or saving. So many things to do and undo. All of time and space but never enough.

The TARDIS lurched violently, throwing the Doctor off balance. As he grabbed onto the edge of the console, all of her lights and screen displays shut off, plunging him into darkness.

"No no no, what are you—" As he reached out to twist a dial, the TARDIS started falling, like an elevator whose cables had suddenly snapped. He scrambled alongside the console, pushing whatever buttons he could reach. The TARDIS stopped falling but continued shaking back and forth.

Suddenly a strange noise screeched through the control room. The Doctor grimaced, wanting to cover his ears but afraid to let go of the console. It was like static from an old radio, but with something else underneath that he could not identify.

Just as quickly as it had started, the noise ceased. The TARDIS steadied, made her distinctive rematerialization noise, and stopped. Her central column glowed faintly. The Doctor straightened and poked a few buttons and dials. The TARDIS' life support functions were apparently working, but it seemed that she would not be taking off any time soon. He could not tell why or what exactly was wrong with her. All he knew was that the TARDIS had landed, but not where or when.

"How exciting," the Doctor grinned. He slipped on his tweed suit jacket, double-checked to make sure his sonic screwdriver was in the pocket, then pulled open the TARDIS' door and stepped outside.

Pale, cold fog enveloped the TARDIS, so thick he could only see a few feet in front of him. The Doctor sniffed the air. It smelled like and something burning. "Pavement," he remarked, springing up and down on his heels. "So a road, then, and roads always go somewhere and come from somewh—"

The Doctor peered around the back of the TARDIS to see that the street behind it dropped off into a pit strewn with debris. No source of the destruction was evident at first glance. "Whatever happened here?" he murmured.

A laugh came from behind him and he spun around to see a flash of red disappear into the fog. "Hold on now, just a moment!" The Doctor darted in the direction the figure had gone, but saw no one. He stopped, glancing around. The fog was a little thinner there and he could just make out buildings on either side.

"Earth in the twentieth—no, twenty-first—hang on, what's this then?" His shoe had caught on a piece of paper on the ground. He leaned over and picked it up to see that it was a street map. The Doctor unfolded it and turned it around until it was right-side up. "'Silent Hill,'" he read aloud, frowning. "Not that kind of Silent, I hope." The name was unfamiliar to him, which was unusual. A red circle drawn around one of the buildings caught his eye. He scratched at the red marking and found that it was crayon, as if made by a child. The building was labeled 'Artaud Theater' in small type.

"Perhaps named for Antonin and his 'Theatre of Cruelty?'" the Doctor wondered. "Interesting."

As he folded up the map, he began to feel uneasy. He stayed very still, listening. He heard nothing but faint wind and could see only streets and buildings and endless fog. There was something else, too, something that he could sense but could not quite put his finger on.

Clear as an alarm, a thought rang through his mind.

There's something wrong with this town.

The Doctor shrugged it off. If there was one thing he knew about himself, it was that he was too inquisitive to turn away from a situation like this. Besides, the TARDIS was not working, and sitting inside it in the dark would not fix anything. There was nothing for it but to have a look around.

"All right then, onward and upward," he said. He glanced back at the TARDIS, her comforting blue exterior barely visible through the fog, then headed off down the street.