Bars, steel bars, less than six inches from his face were big formidable shinny steel bars. The Doctor's thoughts raced. What had he gotten himself into now? He didn't know where he was. In friendly or hostile hands, he had no idea. He forced himself to relax and assess his environment. The steel bars only went up about a third of a meter above the surface he was lying on and that surface was soft yielding to his weight and pressure points. There were coverings that were warm and comfortable. It wasn't bars meant to imprison him that he saw, they were rails, hospital bed rails, meant to protect him against gravity. He was with friends.

Friends who from the soft friction of the sheets on his skin as he rolled on to his back had apparently stripped him naked. He shook his head as he gazed up at the large silver eye of the operating light that hovered ominously over the bed. Whatever they thought that accomplished he had no idea. He rubbed his forehead trying to get the sleep inertia muzzyness out of it as his tongue worked around his teeth and gums trying in vain to ease the sticky dryness of his mouth.

His hand slide down to his face and he stopped. His cheek was smooth, surprisingly smooth with only a hint of stubble. They'd shaved him? What about his sideburns. It had taken him ages to get them just right and to think some ham handed idiot might have… He took a deep breath and stopped that train of thought. He was alive and free of the creature. Sideburns could grow back, as he rubbed in front of his ear, he realized there was no need to worry, there was enough there to work with. A little coaxing they should reach perfection in a week or so.

After a deep breath, he tried a full, tension filled stretch, his toes pointed and his arms out away from his chest reaching for the ceiling, fingers splayed. He let his breath went out in rush as his arms dropped back to the bed and assessed his condition. His time sense had been too muddled by the creature for him to know how long he'd been out, but judging by the lack of stiffness it couldn't have been more than a few days. He mustn't have been as badly injured as he had thought. It had been so hard to tell what was real and what wasn't. Maybe the only thing that had been wrong with him was exhaustion. There was one thing however, that was real and extremely demanding of his attention, hunger. He was incredibly hungry.

He grabbed the cold metal bed rail and pulled himself up into a seated position, a little too quickly as it turned out, the room spun for a moment as his body adjusted to the new position. The bed clothes slid down to his waist as he worked the mechanism that let down the rail. A clatter and clank and he was free. He swung his legs over the side of the bed preparing to stand up when a whirring sound high and to the left caught his attention.

There he saw a camera trained on him, its lens zooming in. He glowered at it and stood up, letting the bedclothes fall to the floor, leaving him totally naked, exposed. The camera slowly turned so it was facing a wall. Hearing whirring behind him, he twisted to see a second camera in the room, also turning towards a wall. He nodded in satisfaction and surveyed the rest of the area. There were some medical supplies neatly lined up on the counter behind a change of underwear and an IV stand that was currently being used as a clothes horse, his brown suit occupying it. He smiled, that was just what he needed to feel like himself again. First order of business was the sink. He needed water.

He turned on the taps and let flow over his fingers till it was cold. Not bothering to look for a glass or other vessel, he cupped his hand and drank in the refreshing liquid as if flowed from the tap. Not too much, just enough to wet his mouth and throat.

"Jack, I know you can't help listening in," he called out as he started to dress himself, "so could you have some food ready for me when I come up. I don't care what. Just a lot of it." As he finished his request he felt lightheaded and put a hand out to the counter to steady himself while he completed donning his trousers. The shirt was crisply pressed as was the suit. Not the way he preferred, but he knew it would return to its normal rumpled form soon enough. Of course that lead to a dilemma when it was time to do up his tie. Should he match the rest of the look and do it neatly. He grimaced at the thought. So half-mast and askew it was. The best choice most likely, Jack would worry it wasn't him if he was too tidy.

That decision taken care of, he looked around, he needed shoes. Surely they had left them about here somewhere. They weren't on the counter or that place most humans liked to put them, under the bed. There was a cot with neatly folded sheets as if prepared for inspection against one wall, but no shoes either on or under it. The floor held no hint of their location nor the cabinets. His search however produced some rather disturbing clues as to his time there. There were boluses of fluid in one cabinet. IV kits and tubing in another.

The trash held the most disturbing information. In one container were remains of a cast for a lower left arm. He looked at his. Had he broken it? All his fingers moved and his wrist was flexible. It must have been nothing a false alarm. It would take a week or more for a real fracture to heal. He checked the other container, bright red in color and discovered tubing and an oxygen mask. He unconsciously touched his face when he saw that. Had it been on him? Empty oxygen bottles in the corner and an oxygen condenser on the floor next to the bed told him it had. Worse some of the tubing in the trash wasn't for oxygen, he could see drops of liquid inside them. He flexed his hand and stared at the back of it. Aware of a slight sting there that he hadn't noticed before. Which of those potions in the cabinet had they used on him?

He sighed, what was done was done and overall he seemed to have suffered no ill effects. There were no shoes here, or answers for that matter. Hopefully both would be upstairs. He took one last look around, ran his fingers through his hair to fluff it a bit and headed for the stairway. He was tempted to fly up it multiple steps at a time. However, with stocking feet, traction was an issue and there was the balance problem he'd experienced earlier, so with regret, it was a sedate single step approach that he settled on.

"What took you so long?" asked Jack as the Doctor entered the control room.

"I was looking for my trainers. You haven't seen them, have you?"

Out of the corner of his eye the Doctor saw Ianto jump out of his chair. "Sorry sir, I'll be right back," was the only the only explanation the Welshman gave as he left the room.

Jack was staring at his colleague's exit with a puzzled look on his face. The Doctor cocked a single eyebrow at him when he had the captain's attention again.

"I think he might have sent them out to be cleaned," Jack temporized.

"Cleaned? He had my trainers cleaned?" The Doctor was incredulous, first the pressed clothing and now the wonderful patina that had graced his trainers had been removed. What were they trying to do? Prep him to see the Queen?

"It won't be a problem, it's mid-day, he'll have them back here shortly."

"But why did he have them cleaned? They were fine."

Jack shook his head and gave a wry smile. "Look, he was just trying to help. He says you saved his life and…" Jack shrugged his shoulders. "I think he felt a little guilty. Don't worry, you'll have them dirty again in no time."

"They weren't dirty, they were seasoned."

"Alright, you'll get them seasoned in no time." Jack stepped next to the Doctor and put his arm over the Time Lord's shoulders guiding towards his office. "Come on, Gwen should be back soon with your lunch, but I have some doughnuts left over from this morning, you can have those till she gets here."

They were passing by the base of the water tower when there was a blast of air, a rustle of wings and suddenly in front of them was Myfanwy. The Doctor stepped back and eyed the pteranodon cautiously. Jack moved forward, waving his hands and yelling "Shoo, shoo, get back up there!" to no avail.

Landing lightly, Myfanwy danced around Jack and approached the Doctor, head down and tilted slightly to one side. The captain was about to jump on her when the Doctor held up his hand. "No, wait, I don't think she's attacking."

"You sure you want to risk it?" asked Jack, shifting his weight to his toes, ready to pounce if need be.

"I'm sure, well…" the Doctor tilted his head and grimaced, "not sure exactly, but, let's give her a chance." The Doctor lowered his hand and held it out. Myfanwy ducked her head under it and rubbed her top knob against his palm. He slide his hand down to her neck and massaged it feeling the tendons move against the vertebra, her skin surprisingly warm and soft beneath his fingers. "Easy girl," he crooned as she tilted her beak inward and arched her neck upward into his palm, obviously enjoying his attentions.

"What's caused this change?" asked Jack, relaxing, no longer ready to leap on his pet if need be.

"I'm not certain, but I think it wasn't me she had a problem with, but what was inside me." He bent down till he was eye level with Myfanwy as he continued to rub her neck. "Was that it girl? You were trying to knock that thing out of me?"

Myfanwy didn't answer, but just closed her eyes and rubbed her head against his shoulder. The Doctor's stomach growled. "Well you might not be hungry, but I am," the Doctor apologized. "I have to go now." He gave her neck a final stroke and stood up. With a disappointed chirp, Myfanwy launched herself into the air, towards her roost at the top of the hub.

"You two done now? Or should I book you a room?" Jack asked with a smile.

The Doctor crossed his arms and ignored Jack's question as he stared up at the ceiling where Myfanwy was resting. "She is quite friendly as you said. I can see why you keep her around." He looked back at Jack. "Now where are those doughnuts?"

The doughnuts proved to be adequate in every way but mass. There were only three and they were the small cake variety, one each of plain, powdered sugar and cinnamon sugar. Not that the Doctor noticed, he woofed them down so rapidly, barely stopping to chew. Jack had brought him some imperfectly brewed tea, more colored water than anything. It didn't matter, it was wet and hot and he used it to wash down the last of the doughnuts. He looked around hoping to find something else to eat, but there was nothing.

"Sorry," Jack apologized, "Gwen should have been back by now. Martha warned us you would be hungry."

"Martha? She's here?"

Jack shook his head. "No. Not anymore, she went back to London this morning."

The Doctor was disappointed but decided Martha must have had her reasons. He was about to change the subject when Jack continued.

"She'd stayed here almost a month and UNIT is shorthanded on medical staff. They needed her back. "

"She was here a month?" asked the Doctor frowning as he tried to make sense of the time line, wondering how much of his memory was gone. He didn't remember her being there before the creature revealed itself. But she must have been if she'd been here that long. Jack continued talking during his ruminations.

"Yeah, lived in the infirmary for most of it, taking care of you. She wouldn't leave. We had to set up that cot for her."

The Doctor's mind scrambled as he took in what he heard and swallowed against the tightness that was starting in his throat. "How long was I out?" he asked hesitantly, not knowing if he really wanted the answer.

"A little over three weeks," Jack explained matter of factly. Then his voice softened a bit. "The first two you were barely alive, we thought we'd lost you."

"Do you want to eat in here," Gwen asked standing at the door and holding several bags filled with Styrofoam containers. Ianto was behind her, looking sheepish as he held up the Doctor's trainers.

"Here, will do," said Jack as he cleared some room on his desk for the bags. "Smells good. What'd you get?"

"The Quay was swamped with school groups, all the normal places were jammed with hungry children, so I convinced that Indian restaurant to do some take away for me." She turned to the Doctor and smiled as she put the bags on the desk. "I hope it's alright with you."

"It's great, just what I need," he replied cheerfully as he put on his shoes, though his newly awakened stomach did a flip at the thought of the thick spicy and aromatic sauces that were the hallmark of India's food.

Ianto went to fetch some utensils and make some proper tea. Not wanting to wait for those formalities, the Doctor began poking around in the bags. He discovered some naan. Perfect, no need for a need for a knife and fork for that and bland enough his stomach wouldn't protest. He tore off a piece and ate it.

"This is quite good," he commented between bites.

"If you like that plain, you should try this," Gwen produced small plastic containers with sauces of varying colors and some crisp papadam. The Doctor sampled the offers as Ianto came back and deposited some strong black tea in front of him, along with a knife, fork, spoon napkin and plate. Soon the plate was full of food that the Doctor dug into with a relish. It was indeed rich and flavorful with spices and as he feared almost too much for a digestive system that had been unused for over three weeks. A careful blending of rice with the curries, tikas, and marsalas quieted his midsection after the first few bites and he was able to get on with the task of refueling his body, ignoring the others as they conversed and joined in sampling the wares of the restaurant.

He did slow down after a bit, wanting to try a little test on the side without anyone noticing. There was a paper packed with food. It was in Hindi and would serve as adequate test material. Would the TARDIS help him translate? She wasn't with English, but that wasn't unusual. It was second nature to him now and her help with it was purely extraneous. He stared at the paper while absent mindedly dipping some naan in a curry. No assistance came forth, he could read it but he was relying on his own memory banks not on her converting it to his own language for him. He covered up his disappointment by taking a forkful of curry, savoring it as the flavors not only hit his palate but his sinuses as well.

He was about halfway through his third plate when he leaned back in his chair, letting it take the full weight of his shoulders and neck, and sighed contentedly, patting his midsection. "That hit the spot, thank you."

Gwen beamed at him. "You're welcome. I'm glad you're back with us." She frowned sadly. "You had us all worried. Especially after what happened with the ambassador."

"The ambassador?" The Doctor was confused and looked to Jack for an explanation.

"We tested that device on him. I'd tried it on you first, but couldn't tell which energy was which, I almost extracted you, not it."

The Doctor closed his eyes at the memory of part of him being pulled away from the rest, the terror and confusion it had caused, as Jack continued. "You'd said the ambassador might be infected. You were right, he was. But it was much smaller in him, just starting I think, so it was easier to sort out which energy was the invader. Still it fought. I guess that took a toll on the old guy. He died in a hospital a few hours later."

Opening his eyes the Doctor stared at the empty tea cup in front of him, slowly shaking his head. Another life lost. If only he'd been paying attention. Not dismissing the warning signs. Disregarding his symptoms, that man might still be alive.

"Look, there was nothing else we could do," explained the captain not understanding what was troubling the Doctor. "I tried going to the TARDIS to see if I could find some answers."

"And I found him lying dead in the rain as a result," Gwen broke in.

"Dead?" The Doctor was stunned and dreading what he would hear next.

Jack just shrugged his shoulders. "Every time I got close, she killed me. Once before we got that thing out of you and twice afterwards. "

"She killed you? She actually killed you?" The Doctor couldn't understand why the TARDIS would do that or wasn't even aware she could do that.

"Hey, it's not like it's permanent with me," Jack assured him, "and she knows that."

"No one else has been hurt?"

"No, just the Plass was hard to walk through for a while. But people are able to get a lot closer now. I think her mood may be improving. That or she's gotten bored or tired with keeping them away."

"So she's not just using the perception filter, she's still actively pushing them away?"

"Yeah, but really, people can get much closer to the water tower now. That's a good sign isn't it?"

"Was it? Was it really?" thought the Doctor. "Killing Jack, pushing people away even if weakly." 'Weakly' he seized on that word. There was no reason for her to be weak, not sitting on top of the rift. His breath stopped, his throat tightened, unswallowed saliva was building up in his mouth. "No, no, no he thought. It can't be. It couldn't"

"Is everything alright?" Jack asked as the Doctor stood up, not bothering to answer as he left the office and headed at a run towards the Torchwood entrance.

Outside it was a bright sunny day. School groups were everywhere, blocking his path to the stairway that lead to the Plass. He made his way as carefully and as quickly as possible through the children. At the top of the stairs he stopped. He needed to go no further. In sharp contrast to the brightly dressed children and balloons swaying in the breeze was dark malevolent energy he felt emanating from the TARDIS.

His gut clenched as he recognized it for what it was. Another of the creatures, fully grown and even more powerful than the one that had been inside him. It wasn't just the ambassador the creature had invaded, it was in the TARDIS as well. Fear hit him like a blow as he realized what was going on. The TARDIS was grappling with it, holding it there, all while trying to keep the people away and safe from harm. He wanted to go to her, but he dared not approach. Tears brimmed in his eyes as realized the agony she must be in. Agony he knew all too well. She was in the fight of her life, and she was losing.