Author's Note: I am posting revisions currently to my work as necessary to make this a more accurate telling to the canon.

"It just figures that today the Underground would be on strike." Jessica threw the map of the tube station back into her carry on bag. Sara rubbed her forehead and sighed in agreement.

They had flew in just yesterday to Heathrow Airport and, being as jet lagged as they were, had resigned themselves to a four hour nap followed by a dinner of fish and chips in a nearby pub. Despite England's reputation for having originated the dish, Sara had found the meal rather unappetizing. To her, in that particular pub, it was tasteless. I need to get a better recommendation.

The next morning, upon asking the concierge of the hotel for directions to the nearest Underground station, they were informed that the tube workers went on a planned strike that would last for the full day.

They were advised to use the red double decker buses as a means to reach the Tower. Upon looking outside, the task seemed daunting. The road was virtually gridlocked. Sara was starting to lose her determination. She ran her hand through her damp brown hair and looked at the overcast sky with a frown. It was already starting to drizzle.

Sara pondered their options, wondering what choice they actually had. Spend a day inside the hotel? That would be an extravagant waste of a day spent in a considerably tiny room. Jessica would have no patience for that. Vacation days were hard to come by, and the money had been a college graduation gift from her family. She had interned throughout college and was fortunate enough to be offered a staff position when she achieved her degree, so her parents' reward was forced to wait for a year, so she could accrue enough time off. She kept telling herself, it was worth it; earning some seniority before taking any leisure time. Now she had her public relations degree and some security. It was, indeed, a good feeling to have that form of independence and freedom. The sensation of having a place that was her own was nearly euphoric. She was out of her parent's financial confinement, living freely, making her own choices.

Although, this trip was one she had long looked forward to, a year had passed since she had seen her best friend, who had been on deployment for nine months in Iraq, and their conversation had been awkward. Sara was uncertain how the duration of time in a country of conflict would affect Jessica. It had been painful; the many nights Sara had spent hoping that Jessica would return unharmed. She could certainly imagine the worst. Within her community, a boy lost his life in a convoy truck that ran over a mine and, therefore, exploded. The whole town entered a state of perpetual mourning. He had even gone to the same high school with her, although she couldn't say she had known him well, but the thought of a similar event happening to Jessica was enough to instill fear in Sara night after night.

She swallowed a lump in her throat at the thought. It's over now.

"You okay?" Jessica asked, glancing at her worriedly as they crossed the street.

Sara nodded, blinking rapidly as she shuttled the memory to the depths of her mind. "Yep, no problem. Just annoyed," she sighed. "Maybe the strikers saw us coming."

"That would be a change," Jessica gestured towards the buses. "Oh well, it will be an adventure anyway."

Sara smiled, "Sure, but you know, it's going to take us more than an hour to get there with this mess."

"You're right. I need coffee, lots of coffee. You want any?"

"Jess, you know I don't drink that stuff," Sara's nose wrinkled slightly, making her friend snicker.

Jessica laughed, "Oh yeah, you really should have been born here. You are a tea drinker, through and through."

"Not always," Sara dismissed before glancing at her watch. "Better hurry, the tower is only open for six hours today."

It turned out Sara was wrong. It took nearly two hours to get to the tower with the bus moving at a crawl. When they were dropped off a quarter mile away from their destination, they were forced to walk the rest of the way. Considering the speed of which they had been walking, Sara wondered whether they might have made better time on foot then by bus. Still, the Tower was something she considered to be the highlight of their trip.

It had been worth every moment of the journey. Sara was enraptured by British history and hearing the many stories from the Beefeater was both informative and comical. When he recited the story of Anne Boleyn, he turned to her and took her hand in parody mimic of Henry VIII, "I promise to love you for the rest of... your life." The audience burst out laughing in response to the gallows humor.

After the tour, they spent time wandering through Tower Square in silence. Jessica was snapping pictures of the stained glass of St. Peter ad Vincula, while Sara examined the plastic mold of the block that was used to execute martyrs and traitors alike. She could never imagine what it must have been like to be Anne Boleyn or Jane Grey to make that final walk to the execution spot with crowds either cheering on the executioner or mourning the tragic injustice of the sentence.

A cold breeze seemed to ripple right through her and she shivered. Waving to Jessica, she pointed inside the actual entrance to the building that housed the dungeons, indicating her destination to her friend. Jessica nodded to her in response, letting her friend know that she understood. Sara made her way down the circular walkway, feeling a distinct chill in the air as the area seemed to darken dramatically. She ended up in a room that was empty at the moment. The only light was provided by a dim light bulb, which highlighted some etchings on the wall. Sara went around touching the etchings gently in fascination.

This was history, unabridged history. Prisoners made markings on the wall to indicate their time spent in the tower. Sometimes, they even designed pictures or poetry. Fascinated, Sara went to see if she could find any writings from the Lady Jane Grey or Anne Boleyn.

She approached one interesting drawing that stood apart from the others, a series of numbers and mathematical sequences. She brushed her hand over those and yelped when she felt an electrical discharge. What the-?

She brushed her hands on her jacket, shaking it off as static electricity, and tried touching the symbols again. This time, she noticed a deepening crack in the area. She could have sworn it wasn't there before, and she felt a churning deep in the pit of her stomach. Suddenly light started to seep through the crevice. Immediately, she tried to pull her hand away; however, the instant she did, her hand remained attached to the area.

"What the hell?" She muttered. Sara examined the surface, wondering if she had managed to put her fingers on any gum residue. There were people who had no sense of historical preservation and would dispose of their trash anywhere. She scowled, as her examination couldn't find anything that would cause such a reaction. She attempted to yank her hand away again to no success.

"Jessica?" Her call echoed in the empty room, perhaps her friend could assist in this embarrassing predicament...

Silence.

Sara grit her teeth and used her other hand to try to detach herself. The force that held her limb in place like a vise suddenly yanked her forward, much like that of a magnet. This time, she screamed. The wall in front of her rushed at her, and Sara felt a surge of pain as her head made contact with the wall and darkness descended.

"Should we take her to hospital?" One voice asked. A dull throbbing sensation was an unwelcome reminder to Sara that she was returning from the bliss of unconsciousness.

"How did she get down there with no one seeing?" Another voice asked instead, leaving the first question unanswered.

"I don't know, Captain. We just found her there on the floor," Voice One sounded puzzled, Sara could almost imagine the owner scratching their head, confused.

"Any ID?" Voice Two persisted.

"There's an American passport, Sara Thomas from Seattle, Washington."

"And there was no other access into this building?"

"You know that even the Doctor can't access the black archive."

Doctor? They don't want doctors here? My head is about to split open!

Her thoughts were hazy as she tried to sort out the non-sensible conversation. Her eyelids felt as though they were made out of lead and her body was lethargic. Her skin felt tremendously sore and the hard surface she was lying on aggravated her considerably. She managed to let out a groan.

"She's waking up."

"Good. Finally, some answers."

"Captain Magambo, might I remind you that she should receive medical care. There was electrical discharge, and she likely has a concussion."

"I thought you said her injuries didn't appear serious," Voice One said almost accusingly.

They're not, they just shouldn't be ignored either, ma'am."

"I'll take that under consideration," the voice seemed firm and rather harsh. Sara couldn't fathom what she had done to put her in this much trouble, where they wouldn't allow a doctor into the building nor send her to the hospital. Maybe there was some terrorist attack. Perhaps I was nearby. I'm being held as a witness. She guessed.

A terrorist attack on the Tower of London would make sense, considering what she experienced. She was underground within the depths of the Tower. The white light could have been caused by a hallucination. If she remembered corrected, the terror alert had been raised in London, so if a car bomb went off that knocked her into the wall, this convoluted procedure had it's own reason.

Slowly, she managed to open her eyes. From all appearances, she was in a room that didn't allow for much overhead light but still looked oddly familiar, although for the life of her, Sara could swear she hadn't stepped foot in it before. From what she could distinguish, near where she laid, there were shelves upon shelves filled with crates and different other scattered items. Behind a glass window another other object she couldn't determine was being held. It appeared like a metallic, oversized watch. The room seemed to hum which did little to ease the pressing headache in her skull.

Rubbing her forehead to ease the pounding sensation that occurred beneath her fingertips, she looked up at them hazily. Everything was still a bit blurred and it was rather difficult to determine faces. "What happened? Where am I?"

"You don't remember?" A woman with the distinctly unfriendly voice that had been present when she emerged from her unconscious state approached her. Something about her seemed familiar. Sara had seen this person recently in some context, she was sure of it. Sara racked her brain trying to place her. A black woman; short, dark hair; militaristic with determined features; mid to late thirties, perhaps.

"I was taking a tour, and I just went to look at the rooms underground."

"Underground?" The woman asked. "In the tower?"

"Yes, the dungeons. Where else would they be?" The headache was making Sara short tempered, and she couldn't find it in herself to feel guilty for snapping.

"Are you telling me that the tour guide took you on a tour of the underground facilities?"

Sara frowned, "Why not? The Tower of London happens to be a tourist attraction. The door was open."

Her answer was met with unfriendly silence. Sara pushed herself up slowly. "What happened? Has there been an attack? Where is Jessica?"

"Attack?" The woman scrutinized her, "You think some form of aliens attacked you?"

Aliens?

"Aliens?" Sara looked at her blankly. "Is that what you call illegal immigrants?" She shook her head. "I was asking about terrorists. Has there been an attack by Al Qaeda? Is that why I'm here?"

"You mean a human terrorist group, then?"

Sara was impatient. "Look, I'm sorry if I went somewhere I shouldn't have. The tour guide wasn't specific in his directions. You can take it up with them. I paid for my ticket and I swear I didn't see anything relevant before I hit my head, other than some white light that was probably just a hallucination."

From what Sara knew about head injuries, it would stand to reason that there would be tangible memory inconsistencies, seeing lights would be par for the course.

"What white light?"

Sara got off the table and tested her legs. "Does it matter? It was likely just my imagination."

"Likely not." The woman approached her with a strange device. "Dr. Taylor tells me you're radiating high amounts of anti-matter particles that were previously calculated to originate from the void."

Sara looked from the woman to the two others that stood by her side and burst out laughing. "What is this?" She asked, shaking her head. "Rehearsing your lines for 'Doctor Who'?"

They looked at her in silence as Sara managed to stifle her laughter. "Okay, whatever you have going on down here is your own business. I don't care, but I need to go and find my friend."

"I'm afraid that might not be possible," the woman said, more to herself than to Sara, before she turned to her associates. "Dr. Taylor, please contact the Doctor and apprise him of the situation." She handed him a file. "This number should reach him."

Sara assumed that whatever Dr. Taylor achieved his doctorate in; it wasn't in medicine. He also seemed unusually thrilled at the prospect of calling a physician. "Oh, my…Captain, it would be my honor. I always wanted to meet him."

Sara interrupted, "Oh, so finally I get a real doctor? My head is killing me." She turned to Dr. Taylor who was dialing a number on his cell phone and paused. Something wasn't quite right. "Wait, why wouldn't you just take me to the hospital? Why call and have someone come in here? I told you, I didn't see anything important."

The circumstances of the situation were starting to dawn on her. Dr. Taylor was speaking on his cell phone regarding voids, dimensions, and then, strangely, malcolm's per second, but certainly it wasn't regarding medical treatment. This entire circumstance was wrong.

However, the entire context of their conversation about dimensions was a familiar one, although her perspective came from something that should be purely fiction. When she heard the word TARDIS mentioned, she knew at once she had to get them to drop this act. It was going too far.

"You can't be serious." Sara's eyes flicked from the Captain to Dr. Taylor. "Isn't David Tennant or Matt Smith a tad busy to complete your little act?"

Her question provoked confusion. She could tell by the look on their faces. "Who?" The woman asked.

"And I thought those actors were well known here," Sara grumbled. "I mean in the States people often don't have a clue who they are, but here I thought they were notable."

The woman squared her shoulders, "You believe we are asking for help from actors?"

It finally dawned on Sara how this woman appeared familiar to her. She had appeared on at least one episode of Doctor Who. A relatively small role, all things considered, but she had just watched it on the ten hour plane flight to London, so it was relatively fresh in her mind. "You play a UNIT captain," she recalled. "Your character is in charge when a bus is taken to a different planet." Sara started to giggle at the madness of it.

She turned to Dr. Taylor who had paused on the phone to stare at her. "If I were you, Dr. Taylor, I wouldn't trust the Captain here. She threatened to shoot you in the back if you didn't close the wormhole and strand people on 'The Planet of the Dead.'" He looked at her quizzically. "Oh, haven't gotten that far yet?" Sara threw up her hands turning to the Captain. "I've had enough of this game."

"You think this all pretend?" The woman growled.

"Well, off the top of my head, I don't know what your real name is, but yes, you're an actress, so by definition, you are pretending to be a character," Sara snipped, irritated at the whole farce.

"My name is Captain Erisa Magambo, and you seem awfully well informed of an organization that people shouldn't know exists," the woman baited.

"Anyone who has seen 'Doctor Who' knows about this supposed secret organization. At any rate, I'm done playing this little contest. I don't know if you have simply lost it or if this is your definition of entertainment, but I'm leaving."

The woman moved to stand in front of her. "You will remain here until-"

Sara cut her off, "-until the Doctor gets here in his time machine to complete this little charade? That's really tempting, maybe he can keep your finger off the phony nukes planted underneath the Tower."

That elicited a gasp. "You know about that?" The woman's voice was fierce.

Her skull was palpitating. She had to get out of there, get fresh air, and then find Jessica and, hopefully, some sound-minded people. Clearly, this group was not in their right mind. There were only three people and one of them was still distracted, talking on the phone. That left the captain and likely a private accompanying her. Sara maneuvered her hand into her jacket pocket, grabbing a handful of coins. Since the British had no paper bill for anything less than five pounds, she had a heavy pocketful of a random assortment of change that she had been using for the bus and underground.

Grasping the change and angling her fist behind her back, Sara relinquished her hold and was pleased with the sound of all the change echoing off the walls in the room. "Oh crap," she made the appearance of kneeling down.

In reaction, the captain and the private kneeled down to assist. Sara didn't hesitate but, instead, made a straight dash to the exit. She burst right through, alleviated to find the door unlocked, ending up in a dark corridor, but straight in front of her, she could see daylight at the other end. Only one person was there to man the guard stand. He was startled and gave a shout as she ran right past him, out the doors, and into the crowds that surrounded the tower.

She barely rounded to the other side of the Tower, managing to ensconce herself with a group of tourists who were taking pictures, when she saw a military clad troops burst from different exit points from the structure. They were splitting up into smaller groups and starting to roam around the premises. Sara felt distinctly uneasy; somehow, this wasn't a mere game to them. She had to find Jessica and locate the police before she found herself in further peril. Insane, this is utterly insane.