Tegan awoke to an aching head. Worse than the pain was the fact she didn't know why it hurt. She hadn't taken anything harsher than a cup of tea before bed, and the ache was the kind that came after a serious night of bar-hopping with her cousins. The only alternative was the one she least wanted to face; she'd woken on more than one occasion with a massive headache while traveling with the Doctor.

She opened her eyes a crack, wincing at the new pain, then gritted her teeth and swung her legs over the edge of the bed, wincing once again at the rather more severe pain that motion brought her. She opened her eyes, then simply sat for a moment, trying to convince her stomach it wasn't really queasy.

If she'd been in her own bed, she might have succeeded.

After a moment spent arguing with her increasingly apprehensive stomach, the young Australian looked around, fighting down the panic that was rising at the sight of the unfamiliar room in which she now found herself imprisoned.

Definitely imprisoned; there was no door. Not a locked door, not a barred door, not even a door with a force-field over it. No door. None at all. It was as if she had simply materialized here, in this strange, barren room. Very Star Trek, she decided as she rose cautiously to her feet.

Or very much like something from her life with the Doctor.

She squelched that thought mercilessly. She'd become very good at that, during the year since she'd given in to her fears and run away from the enigmatic Time Lord and his dangerous lifestyle. Oh yes, she'd gotten very good at not thinking about things she didn't want to think about. Fat lot of good it did her, if she was going to get dragged back into that life with no say in the matter.

"It won't do," she said, glaring at the walls. There were four of them, all the same, blank, sterile white. She looked up. The ceiling was just like the walls, white and featureless. The lighting something soft and discreet, came from each corner at the juncture of walls and ceiling. Not very encouraging. She turned her gaze to the floor, which looked very much like the walls and ceiling: featureless and white.

"I've no intention of getting myself mixed up in this sort of business again," she announced, still speaking to the room at large. "Go pick on someone else. Or pick on the Doctor; he can take care of himself, that one can."

Silence greeted her remarks, silence that stretched and grew until it gnawed at her nerves. "Hey! You out there!" she called, this time actively seeking a response. "I've retired, didn't anyone tell you? I got out of the universe-saving business. Can't you people do this to my replacement and send me back home? I won't tell, honest." She was whistling in the dark now, determined not to allow whoever her mysterious captors were to see how upset she was. After all, she should be used to it, shouldn't she? It wasn't as if it hadn't happened before.

Of course, whenever she'd found herself a captive in the past, she also knew why she was a captive, and she always knew that the Doctor would endeavor to rescue her. Even after the first time she'd left the TARDIS, once she knew her cousin Colin was involved in a struggle against a renegade Time Lord, she was confident it wouldn't be long before the Doctor came to the rescue. He had many faults, but was basically reliable; a sort of Galactic White Knight. But this time, after a year spent struggling to live a normal life and no indication of who her kidnappers were, she was afraid there would be no Doctor to rescue her.

And, a tiny voice whispered in the back of her mind, she was equally afraid there would be.

Tegan prowled the edges of the room, avoiding her thoughts by examining her prison. It was empty except for the huge, white bed, white sheets, white comforter, white pillows on which she'd originally awoken. She pressed her hands against the walls aimlessly, hoping for something - anything that might help her figure out where she was at least.. The hows and whys could wait.

She had no luck in that direction, but did discover, in the middle of the second wall, a door leading to what she somewhat doubtfully labeled a lavatory after studying it for a minute. There was something like a sink or a small tub with a spout but no handles, a definite drain in the middle of the floor, and various hooks on the back wall. Two of them held black coveralls, and that was all. Another discreet light source in the ceiling, and there you had it. "Talk about minimalist decorating taste." Tegan pushed curiously at the coveralls, speaking aloud for the sheer distraction of hearing her own voice. One pair looked like it would fit her, but the other was miles too large and more masculine in cut, which raised alarming possibilities on its own: if the one was meant for her, then who did the other belong to? Or was she just making assumptions? There could be perfectly simple reasons for the clothes, harmless reasons having nothing to do with her. "Yeah, right," Tegan muttered. "And rabbits can fly."

She backed away from the door, hoping to find something more constructive and less disturbing built into the next wall.

Someone was behind her.

A/N: To anyone who's read this before, I have made extensive changes and upgraded the story from "T" to "M" for reasons which will become obvious later! Enjoy!