AN: This is my first ever attempt at a Doctor Who fic. It's not really based on much besides what I've watched of the show and what little I've seen of Torchwood. I hope you all enjoy. :) Reviews are always appreciated but please be gentle if you do not like it or approve of something.

Warm sun shone down brightly creating playful shadows on the browning grass as a light breeze tickled through the trees. Feet pounded heavily upon the ground in thunderous multitude echoing throughout the soil with ear drum shattering force to those that lived within.

Two people ran for their lives with a mad horde of beings chasing them, throwing every single projectile weapon a human could think of.

It occurred to Rose as she fled to the TARDIS how wrong it was that they should have to, once again, run for the life on such a beautiful day. The full force of the Doctor, who had been following close behind her, knocked into her just as an arrow whizzed past.

A cry of pain escaped through the Doctor's mouth as the arrow connected with the fibrous tissue of his shoulder muscles, sailing through the tough elastic to the bone beneath. The hollow tipped point of the arrow shattered upon impact with the shoulder blade and the swinging motion of his arms only served to drive the shards in deeper.

"Doctor!" Rose cried doing her best to look behind her, hoping to assess the damage done while still running.

"Keep running!" the Doctor commanded sharply through gritted teeth. Fire spread through his shoulder with every movement he made but adrenaline spurred him on, driving his legs faster and faster.

Blue poked out through the green and the TARDIS came into view at last. The glorious sight of the spaceship only made them run faster, each trying to ignore the burning in their muscles and lungs.

The Doctor's pace slowed considerably the longer they ran. While his body composition wasn't like that of any other, his mannerisms were very much human, thanks to always having a human companion.

Like any human, the Doctor used his arms to drive his legs. However with an arrow sticking halfway out of his shoulder he found that it reduced the pain to hold his arm to his stomach, making it both easier and harder to run.

Rose slammed into the doors of the TARDIS having forgotten for a moment that the doors were locked. She pulled out the key that opens of the door, her hands shaking with the adrenaline and effort to ignore her friend's grunts, moans, pants and groans of pain.

The key clinked and scratched as she shakily tried to get the metal contraption into the hole. Finally the lock released and the door to the TARDIS opened, admitting her friend and pilot with warm, if not concerned, welcome.

With another shove, the Doctor forced Rose, none too gently mind you, into the ship. She landed hard on the metal grating. Her arms scraped lightly across the rough landing but she didn't feel it.

The only sounds she heard were a sickening tearing sound, an even worse crunching sound and a scream of agony unlike she has ever heard from her traveling companion. It froze her blood and stopped her heart to know that the Doctor, her Doctor, was experiencing that much pain.

The Doctor landed with a hard thump, the grating rattling underneath his almost dead weight. His head bounced hard off the floor drawing another heart shattering moan from his mouth.

The TARDIS slammed her doors shut, protecting her occupants from yet another onslaught of projectiles. Fury rose within the ship. She was linked so deeply with the Doctor that most never fully understood the connection. She existed for him and he for her. If one began to die, the other soon followed. It was why whenever he regenerated, she did as well.

She felt his every emotion no matter what it was. She felt the sheer happiness he felt when around Rose but she also felt the sheer misery and anger he felt whenever another planet, another civilization, another person was murdered. Killing was one thing that the Doctor detested. Unnecessary killing drove a feeling to his hearts that went beyond detestation or disgust.

Oh God it hurts! The Doctor's voice reached out to her. Pain so strong it threatened to disrupt her wiring reached through to her consciousness. The lights in the ship blinked off and on in a silent scream not only for Rose to help her agonized pilot but in an effort to release the agony that the Doctor was coursing through himself to her.

"Doctor, what is it? What's wrong?" Rose asked finding it hard to ignore the TARDIS' cry for help.

The Doctor found it hard to focus on anything but the pain coursing through his body. He heard the desperation in Rose's voice and knew he couldn't leave her and go into a regenerative sleep, not yet.

"Rose," he replied through gritted teeth, "you need to get the bullet out." His breath hitched and his back arched as a fresh wave of pain coursed through his body.

Rose's eyes grew wide at his instructions. "What? No, no, no, no, can't you just expel it during your Healing Coma?" Honestly she didn't know what bullet the Doctor was talking about but that really wasn't that important right now.

"No Rose, there's no one else but you. I need you," the Doctor pleaded as pain lanced through his body.

"But where is the bullet?" Rose asked. She really didn't want to perform surgery but she would do almost anything for this man.

"Leg," the Timelord ground out.

Rose was about to ask which leg but she noticed that his hand, normally olive in color now white with lack of blood, was clutching his left leg in a grip so tight she thought he would have a bruise there later.

Her brown eyes roamed over the thin leg, following a long, dark trail of blood up his shin to a rather large hole in his knee revealing a mess of bone, ligaments, muscle and skin. "No-"

"Rose please," the Doctor all but begged.

TARDIS I need your help, she silently begged the spaceship. I cannot do this. Please take us to someone who can.

"Hang in there Doctor," she urged gently, brushing his thick, dark hair off his sweaty, pale face.

The TARDIS came to life almost instantly at Rose's request but the Doctor never heard it. He only heard Rose's soft voice, urging him to hang on but the darkness was slowly closing in. The pain escalated to almost unbearable levels and the Doctor felt his grip on reality slipping.

With a final hitched breath and a agonized groan the Doctor allowed the blessed darkness to drag him down, Rose's wonderful voice coaxing him down with the promise of help being on the way.

Captain Jack Harckness sat at his desk at Torchwood, pounding uselessly on the keyboard, filling out a report for the Prime Minister on his team's latest adventure, which happened to be over a month ago. God he was bored!

A familiar sound reached his ears, perking them up with excitement. No, it couldn't be!

Quickly he jumped out of his chair and ran to where he knew it would land – dead center of the Torchwood underground.

"Jack, what is that?" Gwen inquired, looking around for a sign of what was making the noise.

"It's-" but before he had a chance to finish, the welcoming sight of the blue police box filled the room, crashing just before Tosh's equipment, stopping short of taking it out.

"Jack get in here!" Rose's frantic voice called from within the box spurring the immortal man into action quicker than anything else on this Earth.

He entered to find Rose kneeling on the TARDIS flooring with an almost comatose Doctor beneath her. "What happened?" he asked as he rushed over to where the fallen Timelord lay.

"He, he says that I need to take a bullet out but I can't do it!" Rose said in a panic.

Jack's green eyes roamed over the prone body of his friend, finally finding the bullet whole at last. His brows wrinkled in compassionate sympathy but his voice came out colder than dry ice as he yelled, "Owen get in here and bring a stretcher with you!"

Owen wanted to ignore his boss but he had never heard Jack's voice filled with so much emotion as he did in that one statement so he did as he was urged, bringing the requested stretcher with him as he did so.

He stopped momentarily to gawk at the inside of what was a seemingly small police box before he quickly continued over to where his boss and a beautiful blonde sat. Briefly he thought about asking what had happened but he realized that at that moment it didn't really matter so he quickly snapped into doctor mode, diagnosing his patient with impassive ease.

"Alright, we need to get him into surgery," he informed expertly after he had finished examining the injured man. "Everybody lift at the same time. It will cause him a great deal of pain but there's nothing to be done about that right now." He looked around at the three of them before yelling, "Gwen get in here, we'll need help."

The spunky brunette entered the ship with a gawking, "Oh you have got to be kidding me."

"Yes let's gawk later," the Doctor, who had been slowly returning to reality, ground out through tightly clenched teeth.

"Right, sorry," Gwen apologized recognizing easily a man in pain. "Where do you want me?"

"You and Jack take right side," Owen ordered, "Rose over here with me."

"Be careful of his shoulder," Rose bid Jack who had begun to slide his hands under the Doctor's right upper torso.

"What's wrong with his shoulder?" Owen asked before shaking his head, "Y'know what, strike that, I don't care right now. Now everyone lift on three. One, two, three."

The group of four lifted as one, the motion jarring the pained Doctor drawing a moan of near agony through thin lips.

"Sorry about that," Owen replied as he strapped the Timelord in. "Don't worry though, we'll have you fixed up soon."

Swiftly he and Jack wheeled the Doctor into surgery. "Is there anything I should know about him?"

"Why are you asking me that?" Jack demanded impatiently.

"Oh I don't know. A mysterious man arrives in the middle of Torchwood in a police box that's bigger on the inside than it is on the out, it all sounds rather familiar don't you think?" He waited a beat before asking, "This is the Doctor isn't it?"

"Yes and the main things that you need to know are: he's allergic to aspirin and he has two hearts."

Owen stored the information absently in his mind as he prepared to extract the bullet. "Right," he tossed a syringe towards his boss, "inject him with this. It's an asthetic."

While Jack administered the medicine, Owen slid some surgical gloves on then grabbed his scalpel. He looked at Jack, his knife poised, "Ready?"

"What do I need to do?"

"Just make sure he doesn't move."