A/N I have a bit of writers block at the moment! Sorry if this chapter's a bit boring, even if I batter poor Owen up. Aw, bless. Anyway, enjoy and this time, reviewers get . . . Mini Cuddly TARDISes! Even cuter than a baby David Tennant!!

Disclaimer : I don't own Doctor Who or Torchwood (told you it would come!) otherwise I would make Daleks pink. I think there's a reason I don't own Doctor Who.

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"I thought regeneration was just a myth to go alongside the Time Lords?" Jack stared at his industrial strength coffee as if it was showing a boring television programme.

"Nope, it's real alright. Most teenage Gallifreyian go through a mini version . . . but I'll explain that later." The Doctor was about to start rambling again, but a stare from Rainia stopped him before he could begin.

"And Rose?" Jack glanced up from his coffee to look glassy-eyed at the Doctor.

"Another thing for another time." Rainia interrupted from the corner. The Doctor just had time for a quick swig of Jack's coffee and a murmured comment, "A bit weak isn't it?", before Tosh slammed the door open, flustered and stammering.

"Jack, it's . . . Owen . . . he's . . . fitting . . . or something . . ." The three of them were out of the office before Tosh could finish "fitting". Sure enough, when the three of them got there, Owen was lying on the floor, eyes closed but flickering behind the lids. The rest of his body was tensed up flat out. Gwen was crouched by his side, Ianto had vanished to try and find some blankets as Tosh caught up with everyone else. The Doctor crouched one side of him as Rainia ran round the other, as Gwen moved out of the way. She checked his pulse as he scanned him with the sonic screwdriver. He threw it to her and watched her scan his head.

"Someone's trying to get into his head. Most likely either an emotional or mental connection, or advanced piece of brain entering kit to put it simply." She stood up slowly. "There's nothing we can do short of a mind meld until they've entered his head, slowly compressing him to death or given up." She glanced back at her Dad while Jack stood forward.

"Why not do that then? The mind meld thing." Jack was looking back and forth between them, desperately searching for answers.

"How would you feel with two other people having a war in your head? It would either send the person back, kill Owen or kill us. What we can do is wait until they've finished and find a way to expel them. It's much safer and more likely. Or we can hope they give up, then quickly put up a mental barrier so that they can't try it again. We just have to wait it out." As if on cue, Owen suddenly opened his eyes, and took a big lungful of air.

"What just happened? One minute I'm sitting on my chair . . ." He slowly sat up, as if checking his body for injuries mentally. Rainia crouched down to his level, hands on knees.

"Look, there's no time now. I need to do something very specialised to stop it happening again. If I don't then it might happen again. Worse." He took it all in and nodded. She raised her hands to his temples.

"Don't you need some sort of contraption?" He looked dubiously at her.

"It's a . . . alien thing. Close your eyes and don't panic." She closed her eyes as he did. After a few moments, he shuddered and opened his eyes. She followed suit.

"You were in . . . my head." Ignoring his statement, she turned back to Jack, small smile on her face.

"He should be ok now, probably just a bit of rest and coffee should see him back to normal. If he does anything like that again, call me or my d . . . partner straight away. Until we find the source, we'll just have to watch him and make sure the barrier stays up." She pulled a beeping PDA out of her pocket and read what it said.

"Sorry, I'd better go. World can't function 2 minutes without me! Um, I'll be back this evening, if that's ok?" She dashed out of the door, pressing buttons on her PDA as she went.

"Are we letting prisoners go now?" Gwen quipped from the corner.

"They're not prisoners. They're the last of a whole race in two people. Left to face whatever's left. You know how old he is? 945. She must be about 70. At least. And they've only got each other." As if coming back to reality, he suddenly changed mood.

"Come on, who gave you permission to hang around nattering? Go check . . . something. Go!"