He could still hear the rain pounding against the pavement as the blue doors swung closed, leaving the Doctor alone in the TARDIS. In the new found silence, he finally paused a moment to think. Any sense of relief he felt, was displaced with the overwhelming sense of guilt he felt. What happened to Donna- what happened to so many... and he was alone again.

He sighed and began peeling off his wet jacket, hanging it loosely on one of the TARDIS' many knobs. Yes, things were settled but Donna would never remember. He'd gotten Rose back and lost her just as quickly. And poor Harriet Jones...

He did take comfort in the fact that even though he and Donna were left with the short end of the stick, the others did get their happy ending. Though it wasn't truly him, Rose got the DoctorDonna to go on her own adventures with. Martha was engaged to that young human doctor Tom and Jack was back at Torchwood, helping get things back on track now that the imminent threat was over.

He walked around the TARDIS console, running his fingers numbly against the controls, playing idly with the many knobs and levers. The engine began to thrum.

'VWORP VWORP'

Not to mention Ood Sigma's cryptic warning about his song ending soon. Though he supposed it was inevitable- death, that is. Everyone dies at some point. In fact, this death would be his tenth such death, and be his eleventh incarnation. Though it wasn't the death that scared him. It was the change.

He wouldn't be the same person, to say the least. He could be an , or fat, or short, or a even a girl. Long hair, short hair, a beard. Though maybe he'd finally luck out be ginger. Though beyond that, what would his personality be like? Angry or passive?

He'd rather grown attached to this reincarnation. He'd managed to maintain his love of bananas, though he'd developed a rather strong distaste for pears. And who knew what type of food he'd prefer with the next incarnation? He'd probably end up with an affinity for fish fingers and custard or something similarly nauseating.

The doctor shuddered, even as a hypothetical favorite food it made his skin crawl. He immediately shook the thought from his head- his wandering mind's foray into his upcoming death did little to lift his mood and he returned his full attention to the console.

"Might as well go on one last adventure together." he mused aloud, stroking one of the console's panels. "or two or three." he grinned sadly and once again was off into the space time continuum.

The Storybrooke police station was a small building, tucked in between the post office and the Game of Thorns flower shop. It was rather unremarkable by itself, distinguished only by the faded copper plaque hanging up on its brick face.

Though the woman currently storming into the room certainly attracted attention. Her red coat was a stark contrast to the dirty brick of the building she entered.

"I can't believe I overslept." she grumbled, fumbling with a set of keys at the doorway. When the lock finally clicked, she swung the door open, and the woman strode past the front desk into the back area of the police station. She was Emma Swan, Sheriff of Storybrooke, Maine. And quite the talk of the town lately- standing up to Mr. Gold, trying and failing to expose Regina Mill's supposedly wicked ways. And even more recently, the assault of Mr. French, the florist, by Mr. Gold which Emma stopped just in time. The entire town was abuzz.

The blond woman flicked the light switch and after a slight pause, the lights flickered on, illuminating the collection of desks on the right side of the room and the holding cells opposite them. At her desk, at the back of the room, behind a glass partition, there was a small pile of papers all of which needed reviewing and approval to be submitted to the official record. Mostly about the recent assault. There was -unsurprisingly- little crime in the town. Not that Emma minded, as the only cop in town, she liked only having to handle one thing at a time.

"Ms. Swan." The sickly sweet voice floated to her before she'd even stepped out of the entry way. It came from the holding cell, where Mr. Gold sat up straighter on the bench to which he'd resigned myself. "A bit late aren't we?"

"Mr. Gold." Emma said curtly- not bothering to address his jibe. "I've got some good news for you today." The man stared at her with a curious expectation.

"And what would that be?" The suited gentleman stood.

Emma sighed, taking a few steps forwards him and the holding cell. For a reason that Emma believed was more likely than not related to the surreptitious mayor, Mr. Gold was free to go.

"There's no charges." Emma admitted, frowning. "City won't prosecute for obstruction, and Mr. French said he won't charge for the assault." The man smirked, positioning himself in front of the holding cell's door.

"Is that right?" Mr. Gold inquired, nodding his head to the side. His voice was quiet, but not so much that one had to strain to hear him. To Emma, over the past few days there was also a dangerous edge to his voice. One she hoped he would stop using.

"That's right." Emma said, opening the holding cell door. Mr. Gold hobbled out, supporting his bad leg with his cane. Though as he limped by, Emma noticed an intricate cup, clasped in his free hand. Undoubtedly something from he and Regina's little talk from the day prior. "So you have all of your stuff back?"

"Yes, Mrs. Mills ensured the safe return of my missing piece." He gave her a smirk. "So your help in this theft is no longer needed." Emma clenched her jaw. Regina. She knew it. Probably got Mr. French to steal all the items in the first place.

Was there any way at all that Regina didn't screw with her life?

"Well I'm glad you've gotten everything back." Emma said coolly. In the back of her mind, she knew that Henry might be interested in this revelation. The boy did think that his adopted mother was the Evil Queen from his book.

The book that for the time was missing, with no idea where it had gone off to. Though Henry thought that it was Regina once more. Not that Emma disagreed.

"I think, if I need any criminals apprehended, I'll leave it to you." Mr. Gold said, nodding his head. "I must admit- that holding cell is not quite what I'm used to. Bad back you know."

"Then don't assault people anymore." Emma retorted.

"I'll keep that in mind." Mr. Gold said, voice terse. "Now if you'll excuse me... my shop should have been opened an hour ago." And then Mr. Gold left, and Emma heard the door to the police station open and shut.

There was something about Mr. Gold that unsettled Emma, though she could never quite place her finger on what that thing was. She would just have to be more attentive.

VWORP, VWORP.

The Doctor paced the floor of the TARDIS, wondering where he should head off to. It wasn't an easy task, to say the least. Everything that had ever happened, anywhere in the whole of the universe was available to him. Save for a few fixed points in time of course.

That's when the Doctor noticed the flashing light on the TARDIS console. A mauve alert that the TARDIS itself was sending out. That was not good. He scrambled to the side of the console with the monitor, watching several numbers and alerts flash all over the screen.

"No! No! No!" he yelled, banging a panel with the heel of his hand. He tapped the monitor deftly, reading the alerts as they popped up, and trying to maneuver his screen to the outside view.

That's when the image flicked onto the screen and his eyes widened in panic. In the space time tunnel which he always found himself traveling, was a large black mass moving towards the TARDIS. It looked like smoke, and the Doctor could feel the malevolence oozing off the shape.

Immediately he began to run around the console, pulling levers and twisting knobs, all in the hopes that something could remove himself from the encroaching cloud. He'd never seen anything like it in the space-time tunnel before- but the fact that the TARDIS announced its own mauve code scared him the most.

"Come on- touch down! Somewhere! Anywhere! Away from that!" he yelled, as the engines strained louder and louder. He felt the TARDIS lurch sideways and he knew that the smokey mass had caught him. Something in this sector of space time found him and attacked his ship.

The TARDIS lurched again and he felt it begin to be dragged, down, to some time and place he didn't know.

The blue phone box materialized above the northeast United States, black smoke still wrapped around the Police Box. At top speed the TARDIS hurtled towards its final destination- which to the Doctor frantically pulling levers inside, seemed was the ground.

Closer, and closer the TARDIS seemed ready to smash into the ground- a road, rather- when finally, the black smoke dissipated, and the Doctor pulled one last lever, bringing the TARDIS out of its nosedive, and crashing straight into a billboard. Inside, the TARDIS rocked back and forth as it continued it mad descent to Earth.

With every bump and jolt the Doctor went flying. He could feel the TARDIS gouging the earth, kicking up mud and grass and gravel. At the same time, with every collision, the Doctor could sense the TARDIS slowing, until finally, after one more large bump and a long scrape, the TARDIS skid to a halt.

The Doctor glanced around wearily inside the TARDIS. There was absolutely no way that he didn't just draw massive amounts of attention. He removed his death grip from the stabilizer, moving around the other side of the console for what seemed like the umpteenth time in just as many minutes. While he had no intention of leaving, for the black smoke was certainly something that deserved a good investigation, he was hoping one of his instruments would be able to tell him what exactly happened.

Unfortunately, beyond the basic record of how the TARDIS moved during its crash and how long it took, the instruments did not provide a response to the Doctor's real question. "Why?"

He glanced towards the door, might as well find the source of all this trouble. He grabbed his coat, double checking for both his screwdriver and psychic paper – you could never be over-prepared- and waltzed to the door.

He pushed the door out, stepping into the sun. Well it certainly was bright today, that was for sure.

Suddenly, a thought occurred to him, and he quickly poked his head around the side of the phone box, attempting to check the damage his crash must have caused. Broken tree limbs and gouged lawn everywhere- further back he could see the remains of what used to be a bill board.

Such a shame his screwdriver didn't do wood. He shook his head and stepped back, only to find himself staring down the barrel of a gun. It was a young woman, blonde hair, red jacket, and a sheriff star clipped to her belt.

"You do that?" Emma asked, nodding to the wreckage.

"I- uh..." The Doctor glanced down. "You see- I crashed. Now would you mind putting that thing away, I'm not dangerous."

"What? Your phone box?" Emma asked incredulously. She lowered the gun slightly, but not enough that the Doctor stopped staring at it distastefully. "Yeah, I can buy that. What's your name?"

"Erm- John Smith," the Doctor fibbed quickly, Pulling out his psychic paper slowly to show the Sheriff. "I don't suppose you know where I am do you?"

"Storybrooke, Maine." Emma said curtly, eyes flicking up and down his person. "What are you drunk or something?" The Doctor took a breath and began to explain

"Well-"

"No- it's not important." Emma shoved her gun in its holster but replaced it with a pair of handcuffs. "Mr. John Smith- if that is your real name- I'm placing you under arrest for destruction of municipal property."