AN: SO so sorry this took so long. My computer is trash. And I was struck with a small note of writer's block.

Previously:

"You said this was your second subject? Mind if I take a peek at the first?"

Van Statten had given the Doctor his signature smirk at the question. Turning sharply on his heel and leading the man from the room with a wave of his hand. Eager to show off his first specimen. She had watched them leave. Pale blue hues focused intently on the Doctor as he followed behind Van Statten. He'd paused, turning his attention to her and gifting her a small smile. A promise shining bright in those ancient blue eyes.

I'll help.

And she knew, she KNEW, he'd keep his promise. He'd help. She could feel it in her very being. An undeniable fact of the universe. He'd HELP. And that knowledge seemed to ease her. Tension bleeding from her frame as she relaxed against her restraints for the first time since she'd found herself captive here in this steel room. He would help. Her lips curled into a small, barely-there smile. Genuine joy filling her chest. Warming her to her very core. He would help. She only had to wait. She could wait. She's already waited so long. She could handle waiting a little longer.

…

The Doctor was silent in his fury.

It was a quiet, simmering fire that sat just below the surface. Only visible in the ancient storm brewing deep in those bright blue eyes. Hidden beneath a visage of mild interest as he pretended to listen to Van Statten and his senseless boasting.

Stupid Human.

He followed as the proud man led him down a number of non-descript hallways. Lips pulled into a tight smile as Van Statten painted a morbid picture of the life his living specimens had been subjected to in his 'museum' of alien artifacts.

"You know, that girl's an interesting specimen. She looks human. But after dissecting her, it became more than obvious she's anything but." Van Statten was bragging. Head held high as he strode down the hall. Leading the Doctor towards the 'famous' cage. "In fact. She's, quite frankly, unbelievable. Like something out of Star Trek. If only her blood was green."

Disgusting.

"What about the other one? Your first living specimen." Despite his growing ire, the Doctor had managed to keep his voice almost jovial as he tried to divert Van Statten's attention. He just couldn't listen to him talk about the girl anymore.

"Ah, you mean my prized possession. Unlike the girl, this one actually looks alien. And it doesn't give me half the trouble she does. And that's including the trouble we have getting into it." Van Statten seemed excited at the change in topic. Like a kid talking about his favorite cartoon. The Doctor couldn't stand it. The man was treating these lives like they were nothing but a TOY.

"We've tried everything. The creature has shielded itself, but there's definite signs of life inside." Van Statten continued his explanation, and the Doctor gave the man his full attention. Pushing aside his anger in favor of discovering more about this mysterious First Specimen. If he could figure out what Van Statten had kidnapped, he could figure out the best way to help it and the girl.

"Inside? Inside what?" The Doctor questioned. Following Van Statten as the man led them into a room. A small number of people were already inside, and, as far as the Doctor could tell, they seemed to be preparing the room. Gathered around a control panel with a small set of monitors on it. Clipboards held in hand as they waited. Scientists.

"Welcome back, sir. I've had to take the power down. The Metaltron is resting." A man in a bright orange safety suit had walked up to the pair, interrupting their discussion. The Doctor bit back his annoyance as the man all but ignored him, instead focusing his attention on the tidbit of information the man had, unwittingly, given him.

"Metaltron?" Genuine curiosity colored his tone as he drew the attention of Van Statten and the orange-man (who he dubbed idiot #2) to him. Eager to find out more about this mysterious alien.

"Thought of it myself. Good, isn't it? Although I'd much prefer to find out its real name." And there was that pride again. With a hint of something else.

If he hadn't seen the girl. If he hadn't seen what Van Statten had done to her in the name of curiosity. He'd have said it was genuine interest in the unknown that colored the man's words. But his image of the man had already been tarnished. Tainted with the memory of her broken and battered body. Now he could only see Van Statten as a MONSTER. He wasn't a scholar. He wasn't a rich man with an expensive pastime. He wasn't a man who wanted to see the stars. He wasn't a man with a respect for the unknown. He was human. He was twisted and dark and ruthless. He was selfish and egotistical and pathetic. He was everything that was wrong with humanity. An Ape.

Idiot #2 had turned to the Doctor, holding out a pair of heavy-duty utility gloves and pulling the man from his idle thoughts.

"Here, you better put these on. The last guy who touched it burst into flames." Idiot #2 spoke up, acknowledging the Doctor for the first time since their arrival.

Obviously, someone had told Idiot #2 that he was planning on visiting their mysterious alien. Or the man had connected the dots on his own. It didn't really matter in the end. What did matter was the new bit of information he'd gained about Subject #1. The Alien, whatever it was, managed to make a man combust via touch. He now knew 3 things about the alien.

Had reasonably strong telepathic abilities (enough to contact him in the TARDIS, and communicate with Subject #2)

The real body is hidden away in some kind of container. Presumably something Metal (Metaltron? Really?) but strong enough to withstand 21st-century technology.

The Alien had managed to make a man combust (or something similar) via touch. Either a self-defense or a weapon. But if it was a weapon, why only use it once? A peaceful species? Or did it lack power? Perhaps its suit had been damaged.

Narrowed down the possibilities. But there were still far too many for him to make any concrete plans regarding an escape. Hopefully, seeing the alien would help shed some light on the poor soul's species. If only so he could help.

"I won't touch it then." The Doctor shrugged, ignoring the proffered gloves with a tight smile. A few people in the room seemed amused by his response. Curious. Either Idiot #2 wasn't much liked, or Van Statten's employees were just as twisted and sadistic as he was, and they were looking forward to a roast…

"Go ahead, Doctor. Impress me." Van Statten's words were like a challenge. And the tension in the room seemed to double as the bystanders looked on with a mix of amusement and pity.

The Doctor turned his attention to the large, safe-like door that had been left wide open after Idiot #2 had walked out. Simply offering Van Statten another tight smile before he walked past the man and into the 'CAGE' without a moment of hesitation. He didn't have any time to waste, after all, there were people who needed his help, and time was of the essence.

The room was dark, dank, and depressing. The girl was locked in a room of steel. Subject#1 a room of concrete. Florescent lights lined the ceiling, but only one light remained on. Barely managing to illuminate one dirty corner of the room he'd found himself in. The large, safe-like door had slammed shut behind him. Locks clicking into place upon Van Statten's orders. The Doctor paid it no mind. Instead, focusing his attention on the room, and the Alien supposedly hidden within the darkness that enshrouded it.

He froze as his wondering gaze caught sight of a small silver cart. Jaw tensing as he took in the barbaric torture tools glinting under the poor lighting. His hands clenched, knuckles turning white as his anger spiked. His mind conjuring up twisted images of one of those APES USING those tools.

'After dissecting her…'

Van Statten's earlier words were brought to the forefront of his mind, and the Doctor was forced to bite back a primal growl of anger as he realized these tools were likely used on the girl as well. He shouldn't be surprised. He'd seen her scars. He'd seen the red-stained bandages wrapped around her body, holding her together like duct tape. He'd seen the bruises and the burns and the barely healed cuts that littered her too-pale skin. She'd been tortured. It was obvious to anyone with eyes that she'd been tortured. But to see the tools that had caused those injuries. To see the man who'd used them… it was all too easy to picture what had happened.

He was mad.

No. More than mad. He was enraged. But he'd contain it. He'd push it down. Bury his anger. For now. But later… Van Statten and every idiot ape that LET this happen would pay for what they'd done.

Deep breath.

Pale blue eyes squeezed shut as the Doctor pushed those dark thoughts to the back of his mind. Turning away from the torture cart and forcing himself to focus on the task at hand. He couldn't waste his time. He had to hurry up and figure out a way to save her. And to do that, he had make a plan.

Exhale.

Mind set, the Doctor turned his attention to the far end of the room. Gaze focused on the one floating light in the darkness. He pushed aside his anger as best he could. Taking deep, measured breaths to ease away the worst of it.

"Look, I'm sorry about this. Mister Van Statten might think he's clever, but never mind him." Genuine sympathy laced his words. The Doctor's tone soft and calm (or as calm as he could manage) in an effort ease the poor soul Van Statten had trapped here. "I've come to help. I'm the Doctor."

"Doc-tor." The deep, mechanical voice broke the silence of the room. The guttural, grinding sound sparking a deep, undeniable fear in the Doctor's hearts.

"Impossible."

It couldn't be. Oh no it COULDN'T be!

"THE DOCTOR?" The voice grew louder. SHOUTING. He was frozen in place, watching with wide, terrified blue eyes as the lights in the room turned on. Glinting off the dull metal shell of the creature inside. A Dalek. "EXTERMINATE! EXTERMINATE!" The battle cry echoed off the dirty concrete walls. And like a man possessed the Doctor moved on instinct, turning towards the door and banging his open palm against it. Desperate to get AWAY.

"LET ME OUT! LET ME OUT!" His hand curled into a fist and pounded against the iron door hard enough to hurt. TERROR coursing through his veins and making his hands shake. The Dalek rolled forward, only to jerk to a stop when the thick iron chains wrapped around his metal body clanged taught, refusing to let him move any further. That damn word repeated over and over and over. EXTERMINATE. EXTERMINATE. EXTERMINATE. Still, the door wouldn't open. He couldn't even budge it. He was TRAPPED. Trapped here with a Dalek. He was going to DIE. He wasn't ready. Not yet. He couldn't die yet.

"YOU ARE AN ENEMY OF THE DALEKS! YOU MUST BE DESTROYED!"

The Doctor turned. Watching with open panic as the Dalek's gun twitched. He held his breath. Waiting for death… and he waited… and he waited… and… nothing happened. No buzz or flash of light. No burning pain or endless darkness. Nothing. Nothing happened.

"It's not working." Relief flooded his system. The panic chased away by a sudden sense of JOY. It was broken. He was SAFE.

Bright, maniac laughter bubbled forth, pouring past the Doctor's lips without restraint. He was alive! He was still alive! Oh, this was – this was—

"Fantastic! Oh, fantastic! Powerless! Look at you. The great space dustbin. How does it feel?" He couldn't help but taunt. Moving forward, relishing in the way the Dalek reared back in fear. Good. It SHOULD be afraid.

"KEEP BACK!" That disgusting, mechanical voice filled the room. Useless gun arm twitching and jerking in a desperate attempt to kill him. The Doctor ignored it. Moving until he was standing only inches away. Leaning forward to stare straight into the dark blue eyepiece.

"What for? What're you going to do to me? If you can't kill, then what are you good for, Dalek? What's the point of you? You're nothing. What the hell are you here for?" His expression was firm. Blue gaze burning, demanding answers.

He deserved answers.

"I AM WAITING FOR ORDERS." The Dalek stated it as if it was obvious.

"What does that mean?"

"I AM A SOLDIER. I WAS BRED TO RECEIVE ORDERS." A Soldier. The Doctor's rage had tempered. Memories of the war, all too fresh, all too potent, flashing before his eyes. Everything was burning. It was all his fault. A Soldier.

"Well, you're never going to get any. Not ever." The Doctor's tone was almost regretful. Pulling back from the creature standing before him. Guilt weighing heavy on him as more memories pushed forth. So much death. So much destruction.

"I DEMAND ORDERS!" That grating voice broke him from his reprieve. And like a switch, his anger returned in full force. Blazing like the fires burning in his memories.

"They're never going to come! Your race is dead! You all burnt, all of you. Ten million ships on fire. The entire Dalek race wiped out in one second." He was yelling. His voice echoing off the walls. He didn't care.

"YOU LIE!" The Dalek sounded almost desperate.

"I watched it happen. I made it happen." He made it happen. Everyone burned, and it was all HIS fault. All of them. Burning. His fault.

"YOU DESTROYED US?" The question was oddly quiet. And if Dalek's were capable, the Doctor would've thought it was somber. That alone was enough to bring the guilt back in force. Head bowed down, his whole frame bending slightly under the weight of all he'd done. He'd done it. He'd destroyed them. ALL of them.

"I had no choice." An excuse. One he'd repeated to himself countless times. A desperate attempt to ease the pain of his choices. Even now, it sounded like a lie.

"AND WHAT OF THE TIME LORDS?"

And what of them?

"Dead. They burnt with you. The end of the last great Time War. Everyone lost." Everyone. And there was nothing he could do. And it was all his fault.

"AND THE COWARD SURVIVED." The accusation sounded so much worse coming from the broken Dalek. The sting so much more potent. The Doctor felt like he'd been slapped.

"Oh, and I caught your little signal." He snapped. Tone harsh and insulting. Anger slowly building. "Help me. Poor little thing. But there's no one else coming 'cause there's no one else left."

He didn't bother to mention the woman who'd asked him to save the Dalek. She didn't know. She had no idea what it really was.

He had wondered, briefly, if she'd been the one to send the signal. But quickly dismissed the thought. She was telepathic. But it was all scattered. Broken and half-formed thoughts drifting without a firm purpose. Nothing strong enough to reach him. Not while he was in the TARDIS at least. Not to mention the fact that, when he'd seen her, she'd never once asked for his help. Instead urging him to run and asking him to help the other one. No. The signal wasn't from her.

"I AM ALONE IN THE UNIVERSE." The Dalek seemed to deflate. Eyestalk falling, in either pain or thought, he didn't know. Once again, that almost somber, sorrowful tone tainting its harsh mechanical voice. The Doctor didn't care. Pushing away any lingering hint of guilt he'd once felt for the creature. Holding tight to the righteous anger that had filled him only moments before.

"Yup." The Doctor spoke without remorse. Popping the 'p' as he stood proud.

"SO ARE YOU. WE ARE THE SAME." The eyestalk shifted, focusing on him. And the Doctor felt that anger BOIL. Jaw tensing and fingers curling into tight fists as he glared at the creature in front of him.

'We're NOT the same! I'm not—" He paused. A small, dark smile tilted his lips as an idea formed. Cold, ice blue gaze turning to the Dalek in almost maniac glee.

"No, wait. Maybe we are. You're right. Yeah, okay. You've got a point. 'Cause I know what to do. I know what should happen. I know what you deserve. Exterminate." As he spoke, the Doctor took a few measured steps back. Stopping beside a forgotten control panel. His smile grew wide as he reached over. Fingers wrapping around a leaver. He pulled it. And the Dalek SCREAMED. Electricity arching off the metal frame, filling the room with the acidic smell of something burning.

"HAVE PITY!" The Dalek begged. Pain lacing every word.

It was still screaming.

The Doctor just snarled.

"Why should I? YOU never did."

He glared at it. Holding tight to the lever. He ignored the security guards that stormed into the room. Ignored every desperate plea for help the Dalek gave. Ignored the small, quiet voice in his head that told him this was wrong. Ignored everything but his hatred for the creature chained and helpless before him, and the leaver held tight in his hand.

He pushed leaver further, watching in sick satisfaction as the electricity grew more intense, and the Dalek's screams echoed against the concrete walls.

Rough hands gripped him, pulling him back. Idiot #2 rushing forward to flip the lever and turn off the machine as a group of security dragged The Doctor from the room.

NO. No, they COULDN'T. It wasn't dead yet. It could still HURT people! They needed to kill it. HE NEEDED TO KILL IT!

"You've got to destroy it!" He demanded. He begged. All but forgetting the girl who'd asked for his help; and his unspoken promise to save them both in his desperate need to kill the Dalek.

…

Time was a confusing thing. She couldn't watch it. Couldn't mark its passing. Couldn't acknowledge it in any way, shape, or form. Yet still, it moved on. Seconds ticking by without end. Each seeming to stretch on into eternity as she sat there waiting for the man, the Doctor, to save her. Never before had time seemed so endless. No doubt a side-effect from her newfound hope.

She couldn't say where this hope came from. Couldn't place how this trust in the ancient man grew so firm, so unshakable, in the short time she'd known him. But it was there. Deep in her hearts. Etched into her soul. A belief that he would do everything in his power to help. A belief that he would save them. Perhaps it was the sharp look in those ancient eyes. Or the unspoken promise in his smile. Or perhaps it was simply her own desperation that cemented this need to believe him. But it was there. Firm and undeniable. And she held it close. Trusting in it, and in the Doctor, to save her from this steel room.

…

Seconds, hours, minutes, or days. She couldn't say how long it had been since the man had left. She spent the time imagining, dreaming of her freedom. Of the endless starry night sky and the soft touch of the desert wind. She dreamed of the warm kiss of the bright sun, and of the fluffy, floating clouds with the baby blue backdrop. She dreamed of the birds, chirping and flying about without restraint. Of the gentle scent of brightly blooming flowers and the distant horizon painted with colors that defied all logic. She dreamed of adventures, and laughter, and soft smiles and delicious food and everything one could hope for.

And then she saw it.

The steel walls around her had melted away as images flashed before her. Visions of either what was or what could be. Or perhaps, what already has been. Future or past, she couldn't place. Or perhaps it was neither. Perhaps it was nothing but a twisted horror, some self-made nightmare her broken mind had concocted to torture her.

She saw the Doctor.

His face had changed. Aged and worn, his eyes clouded with something terrifying. A darkness hung around him. His frame bent over in defeat. Tattered clothing hanging off his frame a testament to whatever desperate fight he'd been a part of. His hair was white. Disheveled and dirty, sticking up at odd angles. Everything about him was different. Yet still, he was the Doctor. She could tell. Could see it in his ancient gaze. He was the Doctor.

And something was wrong.

He stood in a barn.

Abandoned in and forgotten in an endless desert. Sunlight streaming through the cracks in the old wooden walls. It was uncomfortably quiet, and the Doctor seemed almost solemn. Gaze distant and unfocused. In front of him sat a box, decorated with swirling, circular designs. On the box sat a woman. Or rather, it had taken the form of a woman. Whatever it was, it was unnatural. And it was staring right at her. Eyes brimming with the unknown, a knowledge she couldn't hope to understand. It could see her. Whatever it was. It was looking into her. Into her very soul. JUDGING her for everything she is and everything she would be and everything she COULD be. It smiled.

She blinked.

And the scene shifted. Colors blending, bleeding together. A blur of movement. And suddenly she was standing in the middle of a WAR. Children screaming. Broken, desperate cries from young and old alike. Fire raged, the sky filled with smoke, choking out the once beautiful scenery. Buildings crumbled around them. Falling to pieces as beams of light shot out, killing people without remorse or discrimination. It was a slaughter.

It was terrifying.

A deep, primal fear gripped her heart as she watched everything die around her. She couldn't move. Even as everything inside her screamed at her to RUN. She watched with growing terror as people died and the children SCREAMED, and she couldn't move. She needed to MOVE. Why couldn't she move? And then she saw the child. Standing there amongst the chaos. Bright eyes staring straight at her. Silver-blonde hair flying around pale features, reflecting the bright, ever-changing lights of the battlefield. Pale pink lips parted, and time seemed to slow around the as the girl spoke.

Trust—

Suddenly everything shifted again. Colors rearranging themselves, settling into a new picture. The echo of the war fading into her memory as a new vision took hold.

In front of her was the Doctor.

Features twisted into an expression of pure pain.

Her hearts ached in sympathy. Watching on, hopeless to help as his face kept on shifting. Changing from one to the next to the next to the next. An old man. A young man. A woman. Countless faces. Each so different. Each holding the same broken expression.

It was wrong.

All of it. It was all so very wrong.

She didn't like it. In fact, she hated it. She wanted to fix it. To ease away the pain and hurt and regret that corrupted the Doctor's features. She wanted to make it better. But she didn't know HOW. Didn't know if she could. She was a stranger, and the Doctor something so much more than she could ever hope to be. How could she help him?

A scream.

The visions all swept away like sand in the wind as a broken SCREAM filled her mind. Her hearts were beating against her ribcage. A frantic and erratic drum-beat that echoed in her ears and left her hands shaking in their restraints as adrenaline pumped through her veins. The Doctor. She could hear him. Much like she could hear the other prisoner of Van Statten's museum. A voice. A feeling. Broken and raw and laced with pain. He was in pain. Van Statten was hurting him.

She fought against her restraints. Body twisting, writhing in place as she fought to get out. Desperate to help him, to save him. Tears poured down her face and pain shot through her body as the cuffs holding her in place cut into her skin.

It was almost like she could see him. The Doctor. Her Doctor. Features young, but his eyes so old. Burdened with such an ancient pain. Broad shoulders tense with pain. Bare chest raising with each labored breath he struggled to take. Strapped to a wall with Van Statten standing before him. Expression shifting into something of mild disappointment as he read the results of his little machine.

An alarm sounded, and the vision melted away. In front of her was a steel wall.

A silent sob shook her frame. Her desperate struggle coming to an abrupt end as all her strength seemed to bleed away now that the screaming had stopped.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.

She wasn't sure he could hear her, wasn't sure he wanted to hear her. But still, she apologized. She apologized to the Doctor, trapped and in pain. Left to Van Statten's mercy. She apologized to the other one. Van Statten's first prisoner. Broken and lost, locked away in his dark, and dirty cell. So alone. She apologized to herself. For being so weak and hopeless. And she apologized, simply because she felt It was needed.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry. So sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry.

Like a mantra, the silent apologizes continued on endless repeat.

And then her door opened.