By Gundrea's Request

'...And then I killed the puppy.'

'You killed the puppy,' repeated Hel.

'I thought it was a guard dog.'

Hel rocked on his feet and arched a sardonic brow. 'Tell me, has it been your aspiration to become the evillest man alive, or was it just something that happened?'

Planted atop a boulder in the middle of their little camp site, Hel's compatriot scratched his chin. 'I can't say it has been, but now you mention it, "Darken the Evillest" does have a certain blunt ring to it.'

'Shit, why not just call yourself "Lord of Tyrants" and be done with it?'

'That's good too,' said Darken, hopping down from his rock, 'Could be punchier.' Then he spun on his heel and jabbed a finger at the edge of the clearing. There was a flash, a thunderclap, a yelp, and the mingled scent of burned cloth, plants and ozone. A woman staggered into the clearing.

'I find introductions easier when one of us isn't hiding in the undergrowth,' shrugged Darken. The woman glared at him, but that was nothing to the concentrated blast of pure hate she proceeded to turn on Hel.

'Ohhh... Hell,' he said.

Nor Hel A Fury

A Tale of the Triumvirate

She was a tall woman, incredibly slim, almost malnourished, but the strength with which she carried herself eclipsed any notion of weakness. She was attractive and striking, an effect undermined only slightly where her tunic was still smouldering. The tiniest distortion of her lip belied fangs, but you'd only see it if you were looking for it.

Darken waggled a finger between the pair. 'Do you two...?'

'Yes,' said the woman, turning her back on Hel again. 'We do. And we did.' She gave a thin smirk. 'Frequently.'

'Ah,' said Darken. 'I see. You're a vamp.'

'And you're an arrogant shit,' she spat.

'Truly, your politesse shames me.'

'Darken, this is Tsuria. Tsuria, this is Darken.' Hel gestured between them with a theatrically put-upon air. Darken saw right through it.

'I see. And what has she done to make you so uneasy that you're affecting false good humour?'

Tsuria's expression flared. 'What have I done? Me? Oh, I do hope you haven't been deceived by that unassumingly wet façade, little chauvinist. Despite appearances, I can assure you Hel is quite capable of some particularly imaginative violations and abuses.'

Hel's eyes flashed and his voice rose. 'I never abused you!' he hissed.

Tsuria forgot Darken and her mask of sarcasm. She turned on the mage. 'Didn't you? Do you really think not? Did you forget how our last meeting ended, then? Or do you really think it was justified?' Her voice cracked.

Hel's own voice was tremulous, his breathing deep and unsteady. 'I did what I had to do. I did it and I hated doing it. So DON'T you dare suggest you were the only injured party! You forced my hand. YOU did it!'

'You bastard... You incredible bastard...' Tsuria actually laughed. 'I can't believe even you could have the arrogance to suggest that...' She put her hand to her mouth. 'Oh my god. You're certifiable. As if your charity wasn't grand arrogance enough.'

'My charity? I'm sorry, what? Are you suggesting that somehow I was wrong in helping you? Actually, I'm not sure I disagree. I should have left you where you were. Stupidly, I thought you were more than a murderer.' He emphasised the word, and the way he watched Tsuria's face suggested he knew that it would hurt.

'I'm not... I'm not a...' She started, and tailed off. Hel's shoulders sagged, and he sighed.

'No. I know you're not. Or I thought you weren't. You know that. I trusted you... But you,' he shook his head irritably. 'You killed someone. Again. For no reason.'

'You've no idea what my reasons were. He wanted my blood. If I'd left him alone he'd have killed me in time. And probably you too. He was a fanatic. You've never understood that. I don't think you can understand that, because you're so desperate to believe everyone can be reasonable. Well they can't, Hel. He would never have stopped coming because he hated my kind. More than everyone does. He couldn't stand to let me live.'

Hel shrugged. 'And apparently you couldn't stand to let him, so what's the difference? I know, I know, you have been persecuted. I wish you would accept that I'm not disregarding that, but...' He hovered awkwardly. 'But you can't kill everyone. It just doesn't work that way. You have to find other answers. I was going to help you find other answers. Didn't you believe that?'

The girl shook her head. 'That's not even the point. I did something I had to do, and you still don't have the perspective to see that. Even though I know you've done the same.' Hel's eyes twitched to Darken against his will. Tsuria's temper seemed to rise again. 'You don't even- You can't even see why what you did to me was wrong.' She almost shouted the last word. Her expression was wandering, as if troubled over whether to commit itself one way or another. Her eyes seemed to soften and harden again as she watched him. There was a long silence, that seemed to foreshadow some sort of conclusion. Darken ruined it.

'Mind if I ask what he did?' he put in, brightly. Tsuria snarled at him.

'Fine, why not? Let me tell you. He raped me.'

'I DID NOT!' Hel exploded. He was shaking with rage. He advanced on Tsuria and stopped a foot away, shaking, flexing his arm impulsively. 'I, I... I NEVER did that. I... How can you even SAY that... I might have killed you for what you'd done... Or turned you in, which would have amounted to as much, or worse... But I didn't. I didn't! I let you go! I was as humane as I could possibly have been!'

Tsuria forced herself to keep a cold shoulder to her enraged ex-partner. Instead she continued to speak to Darken, as if in appeal. 'He poisoned me. He took my blood and he made up an agent to cripple me. An anti-vampiric. And he injected me with it... Whilst we lay together.'

Darken choked. 'Wo-hoah!' he laughed. 'Cold day in Hel.'

Tsuria wrinkled her nose, concluding that Darken was as much of a pig as she suspected and turning her back on him. She finally deigned to look back into Hel's eyes, now red and watering. He was still shaking. She waited, curious as to what he would say next. After a moment he took a rattling breath and whispered, 'I... Cured you.'

Tsuria slapped him with her right backhand and drew a tight paper scroll from her belt with the left, in a fluid display of motion which Darken admitted was entrancing. She extended the scroll toward him, at arm's length, as if she disdained to get near him. He frowned and took it.

'What's...?' Hel realised his mistake too late. A wide ring of fire spiralled out from between the pair. It engulfed Darken and carried him to its edge. The paper crumbled away. Hel blinked around at the magic barrier. 'Oh, I see,' he said. 'You're going to kill me.'

Tsuria shook her head. 'You're a fool,' she said, and drew her swords.

They were beautiful things. She'd had them even when Hel knew her. In fact, he thought bitterly, he'd added refinements for her himself. The blades were short and incredibly slender. Rune-engraved steel folded around magically reinforced elkbone cores. Lodestones in the grip held binding enchantments that made her nearly impossible to disarm. And they weren't just for show; Tsuria's skill was every bit worthy of the weapons.

She advanced in a few fluid strides, curving gracefully as she came. Hel dived left and under the opening strikes. Easy; she was just testing the water. But she was coming around, quickening her moves, everything flowing so naturally, that grace specific to her that had entranced him in their previous engagements. Spirits bedamned, she was distracting him just by being there. He couldn't cast and dodge those blades at once. At least not to any useful effect. He feinted, ducked right, came up under her arm and took a few quick steps toward the tree line. A few longer-reaching roots and branches crossed the threshold of Tsuria's magic circle. Hel brought his arm up, murmuring a complex entanglement of simple spells. A branch fractured a couple of feet from the tip and flew to his hand. He caught it neatly, and brought it up and around to counter an overarm swing from Tsuria, who was almost on top of him. As he parried he channelled more incantations into the branch and it changed to iron in his grip. Tsuria, swinging her blade at full force, was momentarily stunned by the impact.

Hel pushed the advantage, swiping left and right, succeeding in driving the vamp back a few feet before falling back into the breathing space he'd cleared and refocussing. He began to chant again. Darken had left a long dagger embedded in the earth by his tent. As Tsuria came back at him again, he cast a translocation, exchanging his iron club for the blade.

They fenced briefly, though the mage was clearly outmatched here and couldn't hope to make serious gains. His hopes lay on an opening, not for his blade but for a spell. He was murmuring almost constantly now, preparing and repreparing spells that died away, waiting for the moment when his summoned power would converge upon a weakness in Tsuria's guard and he could unleash his skill.

Darken perched on another rock between the tents, watching the blades ringing together, enjoying the spectacle. Quietly, though, he was keeping one eye on the invisible magic barrier, allowing his vision to sink into an arcane spectrum, picking through the weave of the thing visually, looking for clues to its construction, hunting for gaps.

Hel's muttering became more urgent. He fell back then came at Tsuria from a slight crouch, moving upward, leading with the blade, hooking the hilt of his weapon under the edge of hers. His ability for physical combat was pretty good (Darken was a little surprised), and he was able to judge the moment when his full strength came to bear well enough. He channelled a powerful pulse of magical nullity down his arm and into the dagger, using the weapon as a focus, concentrating the effect on Tsuria's hand. The holding enchantments faltered and the hilt came out of her grip. The blade spun upward erratically. Hel stepped back from the swinging tip, failing to follow through on his manoeuvre. His adversary recovered, throwing him off balance with the flat of her arm and snatching the weapon back out of the air.

Later, Hel congratulated himself on this bluff. As Tsuria's hand fell upon the sword, Hel antagonised the steel with magic. It blazed with light and a corona of fire danced across its edge as it seared the shocked woman's palm. She screamed and dropped it, falling back defensively and cradling her ruined hand.

'BASTARD,' she screamed. She turned on him with the blade in her good hand, running him down with a violence he had never seen in her. The speed and power of her attack was unexpected, and Hel, who had in fact been momentarily paralysed by a twinge of conscience, utterly failed to defend himself.

The cuts were quick and disorientating. He felt them fall upon his shoulder, his forearm and his face but he couldn't see. He dodged and weaved as best he could, and the cuts felt brief and mercifully light. Then a deep, biting pain filled his left arm. The world came back into focus, then swam dizzily. He saw Tsuria's outstretched blade withdrawing from his side through a slow, thick syrup of perception. He faltered, staggered back, dropped his blade and clutched his arm.

His once-lover stood watching him, chest gently heaving, eyes bright but furrowed, as if debating whether she had punished him enough. She didn't speak, and Hel was momentarily too lost to offer any sentiment of his own. If he told her to stop he couldn't in all conscience proceed to attack her, could he? That would be disdainful. Worthy of Darken. But she was going to kill him. Was she? Would she kill him, even though he loved her? Some part of him tried to register that what mattered was whether she loved him. He didn't know if she did. Could they settle this amicably now? He didn't know. He wanted to ask, but he couldn't find his mouth. He'd just got his lips moving when the long moment ended and Tsuria whirled on him again.

Jerkily, Hel swiped a palm through the air. A wall of force deflected the vampire sideways. He lashed out again with an empty backhand which knocked her off balance. Finally he threw his palm forward. The concussive force was intense, and threw Tsuria onto her back.

This display might have looked impressive to a peasant, but Darken was not one of them. This sort of kinetic elementalism was far outside Hel's purview, he knew. And he was gesturing, which was a bad sign. Hel's mastery of arcane theory had allowed him to dispense with material catalysts and physical gestures. In fact, Darken had to admit there was something deeply impressive in the young mage's ability to direct magic through sheer willpower and verbal expression. It was what had first made him an intriguing curiosity. For Hel to be gesturing, he must be floundering badly. He was sweating now, bent over and panting. Those blasts had been large and blunt, they'd taken a lot out of him. Darken's show threatened to turn into bloodsport, and it happened that he wasn't in the mood for that at the moment.

Hel was starting to wobble on his feet. He wanted to talk to Tsuria. He wanted to work things out. He didn't hate her. He could give her a chance. Couldn't she see that? Maybe she could... Maybe she'd calm down now long enough for him to get his breath back, and they could talk.

The girl leapt back to her feet, and her eyes were blazing again, like they had been when she first arrived. She seemed to have taken a lot of offence at being knocked down. She strode forward and-

'Oh, for the love of...' Darken muttered. He jumped down from his seat and pushed his way into the barrier. Purple sparks began to coruscate around his flesh, but the circle slowly gave way.

'Stay out of this!' Hel wheeled on Darken, finding his voice. His good arm flew up and the circle sealed shut, its bindings redoubled. Darken was thrust backwards.

'Idiot', he harrumphed.

Hel turned back to Tsuria. She'd sheathed her blades now. Maybe she was going to talk. But she had another scroll in one hand, and an orange light shone around the first two fingers of the other. Hel couldn't fight her any more. She walked up to him and jabbed him in the chest. He fell down.

Hel's joints protested as his limbs were cinched inwards. The conjuring scroll dissolved into cinders as the chained manacles reified about his wrists and ankles, binding him into an uncomfortable hog tie. Dumbly, he thought about making a joke, but thankfully his reactions were still dull enough that he realised this would be a stupid thing to do before he said it. No need to imitate Darken's level. Still, he'd found his voice.

'I'm sorry,' he croaked. 'This isn't necessary. We can work this out. I'm sorry for what I did to you, it wasn't the solution.' He stared up a shapely leg into her face. It was regarding him with curiosity. He was too out of it to notice the twinge of hardness creeping into it. 'I know I sound like some crawling rat right now and you think it's because you've got me, you know, 'at your mercy'. But, well, I guess it partially is. But honestly, I mean it. It wasn't the way. I was treating your identity like the problem. But it's not! I can accept that. We could still be good. As friends I mean, just friends! But I could help you. We could find a better answer! Please, let me?' He stopped weakly. Tsuria twisted her lip. She picked a small glass trinket from her pocket and regarded it blankly, then began to roll it around in her hand, so that when she replied, it was with an exaggerated sense of distraction and disinterest.

'I was just a charity case to you. Just a project. A project with benefits.' She kicked him hard. 'I still am.' She crouched beside him. He just stared back, silently. 'Let me explain to you. Let me see if you can finally get it. I don't have problems. You see? I am not a problem. I am not to be solved for your edification. You need to realise, when you're so desperate to help people, you're only doing it for you.' Hel still didn't reply, but Darken, who had seen this coming even whilst Hel was still talking, was amused by the thought that Tsuria was just as bad as him. 'Anyway, I came here to try and introduce you to your own fuck ups. For self improvement, you see? My little bit of charity for you. For myedification. So, fair enough, you wouldn't kill me. Most likely that's just weakness masquerading as morality than any true virtue, but fair's fair. You wouldn't kill me, so I won't kill you.' She snapped her fingers shut around the little glass object. It was a phial of some watery green liquid. 'This I got from an apothecary after quite a lot of asking around and dealing with charlatans. I understand it's made from a rock of some kind, but I couldn't get it in powder form. Or maybe it's already dissolved, I don't know. Anyway, you swallow this, rather than injecting it, but the principle's the same. It'll seep through your system, nullify all your hocus pocus abilities, and leave you weak as a lovely little kitten. As it happens it only lasts for a week, rather than - did I mention? - seven years, but I can't be bothered to keep tracking you down to administer the next dose, so that'll have to do.' She smiled at him. 'But I know you'll understand. You've always been so understanding.'

Her fingers snaked around his jaw to the pressure points that would force open Hel's gullet. If she noticed the faintest of vibrations, she didn't register it. Darken leant forward slightly in his new seat on the ground. A few months after he'd first met Hel, his (well concealed) wonder at the boy's particular skill was renewed by a new discovery. Because it wasn't strictly true to say that Hel needed only a verbal direction to control his spells; should he be feeling particularly clear of mind – or just maybe, really bloody furious – he could rely upon no more than an almost undetectable subvocalisation. It was slower, but if he had a good long lead-in – like, say, someone giving a long, arrogant monologue – there was little difference in its efficacy.

The phial exploded, instantly crippling Tsuria's good hand. The whole of the backdraft was swept magically toward her, showering her in glass shards and the burning chemical. She fell back, screaming, and rolled desperately across the floor, trying to douse herself. It was difficult work – the harness for her blades stuck in the earth until she succeeded in tearing it off, burning all the while. Hel stood calmly, the manacles suddenly devoured by rust and crumbling to nothing. He turned his back on his very much ex paramour. Tsuria finally patted out the last of the flames and turned where she lay, gasping and wide eyed, to stare after him. He didn't look round. The girl seemed to shocked by what had happened even to react. Not just shocked by the explosion, but shocked by Hel himself; suffering the reprisal due the arrogance of believing one knows a person utterly. Shakily, she got to her feet.

Hel approached the boulder that Darken had been sitting on when they were first interrupted. His eyes were almost glazed, not fiery with rage as might have been expected, and his face quite relaxed, but his brow was just slightly knotted. His lips were moving. He had dispensed with physical catalysts and extravagant gesticulation as means for the casting of spells, save in those cases when he was desperately fatigued... Or those cases when ordinary potency was not sufficient.

The boulder was enormous, when compared with the tiny stones Tatula had sometimes used in rituals. Hel stepped towards it and traced a symbol on its surface with a fingertip. Then he turned and faced the catatonic Tsuria. He made a sweeping gesture, almost like a polite supplication. Then he drew his hand above his head, striding towards her. His eyes focused and narrowed, and his finger fell.

The boulder vaporised. The magic circle breached and shattered. Darken was thrown onto his back. Hel was lifted bodily and thrown ten feet. For a moment the atmosphere of the clearing itself seemed to taste wrong, as the power of the spell knocked it out of kilter.

Hel lay on the grass for a long while, just staring up at the sky. It was cool and pleasant. But he had to face the consequences. When he finally sat up, Darken was stood by Tsuria, giving the vampire an appraising look.

'Such a strong nose, such burning eyes! And yet so delicate! And the pose, the pose! Unsure, yet powerful! A masterpiece, for sure! Sheer art!'

He stepped to one side as Hel drew up, scratching his chin in parody of a collector. Hel could only manage to raise an eyebrow. Before the pair of mages was a perfect stone statue of Hel's lover. Darken traced a finger across her cheek, narrowing his eyes thoughtfully.

'How long will it last?' Hel asked.

'Not long,' his companion replied. 'Give it six months and she'll run off with a Laboran farmhand. ...Oh, you meant the enchantment!' He added, with a comical look of realisation. He chuckled. 'Well, it's not a precise estimate, but pretty much forever, I'd say.' Hel whistled. 'Yeah,' Darken continued. 'Good of you to show off, once in a while. Means I don't look arrogant. Interesting case study, the way everything conspired like that. The high magical atmosphere, the reflecting and amplifying effects of the barrier, the residual weaknesses of the chemical in her bloodstream. Quite an impressive effect.' He didn't say what he was really thinking. 'So what now?'

They turned to look at the statue again. Methods for disposing of petrified grudge-bearing vampires was beyond the contingencies Hel or Darken had prepared for. Hel shrugged.

'I can put a delayed reversal enchantment on her. Take her weapons maybe. Maybe you could teleport her into a local prison in one of the larger cities? Something like that.'

Darken smiled and shook his head. 'She was right, wasn't she?'

'About what?'

Darken didn't answer. Instead he raised the camping mallet he'd been holding by his side. 'Let me do you a favour,' he said, and brought the hammer down.

Time Out of Mind

There was a voice in the Doctor's head. It was prattling nonsense. He shut it out. He had no time for it, he had to- ...The Doctor realised he was unconscious, and woke up.

“Where am I?” the Doctor snapped at no-one in particular. He sat up, holding his head. “The TARDIS... I was... Energy, draining my...” Suddenly he straightened. “Ben and Polly!” he exclaimed, and focussed on his surroundings at last.
His gaze found a strange young man crouching several feet away, a curious jumble of expressions on an equally curious face. It was bluish-grey. Alien.
“Who are you?” demanded the Doctor, pulling himself together and getting to his feet. The boy stood paralysed for a second.
“Ah... Doctor?” he managed finally.
“That is who I am,” agreed the Doctor. “Know me, do you?”
“Y-yes, that's right,” confirmed the fellow.
“Then be so kind as to tell me what I was doing down there on the floor, hm? And indeed, where in the universe this floor is?”
“We're... On the planet Pryton. You, uh... Passed out-”
“Passed out, did I? Well!” The Doctor did not seem pleased. “And where are Ben and Polly?”
“They're... Back in the TARDIS,” the boy answered. The Doctor studied him. Had that been hesitation? Yes... Well, he would see about that in time.
“So, know about my TARDIS, do you?”
“Yes... You told me.”
“I must say, I don't remember you. Not a thing!” He paused and looked at the boy again. “You aren't one of my travelling companions.” It was as much a statement as a question.
“No... I just met you. I've been helping you.”
“Helping me! And with what do I need help, eh?”
“The Psychologians. They made some kind of mind weapon. You were... Zapped.”
The boy's eyes had flickered, the Doctor noted. Well, well, another lie. He'd get to the bottom of them, soon enough.
“I see. Now where were we going?”
“To the Control Room.”
“The Control Room?”
“Yes... We were going to destroy the weapon... You remember?” the alien asked, hunting for a hint of recognition. The Doctor decided he was being patronised.
“Hm? Yes! Of course I remember! Must you keep pestering me? Come along!” He waved the alien away irritably, but as soon as the boy backed off, he beckoned him to hurry up. The alien rolled his eyes and followed in his wake.

“Strange...” the grey fellow muttered, when they'd been walking for a while.
“What's strange?” demanded the Doctor.
“I was just thinking, we haven't seen any guards recently. There were plenty around when we first arrived, but we haven't met any for ages.”
“And what do you suppose that means?”
“I don't know... They're setting some sort of trap?”
“Maybe, maybe... Or perhaps they have reason to wish to be somewhere else,” the Doctor suggested.

It was an infuriating fact about the Doctor that he was more often than not correct. Much to the dismay of his alien hanger-on, this was one of those times. A scant few minutes since the Doctor had left his ominous suggestion hanging in the air they heard, faintly at first, but growing undeniably louder, the sound of scurrying footsteps in the walls. When they sounded barely more than a few feet away, the alien felt the need to say something.
“Doctor...?” he queried. “Can you hear that?”
“Of course I can hear it!” he snapped. “I am not deaf. I have been able to hear it for just so long as you have. I merely have not yet come up with a solution. Have you?”
“Well, no,” admitted his companion. “We've hardly got much to go on. Or can you devise a plan by listening to footsteps?”
“Indeed not,” said the Doctor, and then, all of a sudden, he sat down. “So I suggest we wait and see.”
The other man hesitated for a moment, then shrugged and sat down beside him.

It didn't take for long for their predators to descend. They came out of service gratings in the ceiling and dropped deftly to the floor. They moved like wild animals, which was somewhat at odds with their appearance...
“Humans!” the alien exclaimed. And indeed they were, after a fashion, but their clothes were ragged and there was little human in the way they stared hungrily as they circled in on the pair.
“Once,” said the Doctor. “Something, hm... I rather think something dreadful has been done to them.” He stared into the eyes of the nearest one. It stared right back. “Regressed to some sort of primal state. Yes, pre-human I should think. Some sort of temporal mind-wave...”
The creatures were within lunging distance.
“Doctor,” the alien said, warily. “Have you g-RUN!”
The boy shoved the Doctor one way as the creatures pounced the other. They collided behind them, snarling and hissing, and the sound of scrabbling footsteps told them they were close at heel.
“I think... you made... a mistake... my boy!” the Doctor shouted between breaths. “These creatures... have been reduced... to pure impulse. I rather think... running... has only incited... their natural... killer instinct!”
“Helpful, Doctor,” panted the boy, a few steps behind. “If you'd thought of it a minute ago.” The Doctor's eyes flashed.
“Oh, but it might be the most helpful thing!” he cried. “Yes, the most helpful! If these creatures have the basic hunting instinct, perhaps they also bow to the dominant male, hm?”
“What-” the boy began, then he froze, mouth open, because the Doctor had turned and was lunging at the creatures, stamping his foot and hollering. It seemed like lunacy, but sure enough, the creatures drew up warily.
“Yes, just as I said,” affirmed the Doctor, “Sub-conscious obedience to a more assertive creature.” He rubbed his chin and gazed around thoughtfully. The creatures craned their necks and swayed, eyeing the pair.
“And now I rather think that it is time to be going.” He looked again at the things, once people, now watching them with animal eyes. “Yes... Time to be going.”

“Definitely a temporal aspect... Retrowave resonance generated by taranium decay, I shouldn't wonder.”
“What are you talking about?” asked the alien, for the Doctor had been muttering such things for some time now.
“Nothing you would understand,” said the Doctor. The alien glared.
“Thanks for your respect.”
“Respect you? Hm, well. Perhaps if you had done something to gain it.” It seemed that asserting himself against the ferals had stirred the Doctor up, and now he had determined to confront the stranger.
“Done anything? What about when you were unconscious – you snore, by the way – I watched out for you then, didn't I?”
“Didn't you, indeed? Well, well, maybe you did.”
“Maybe I did? And what? Maybe I didn't? You don't trust me, do you?” the alien narrowed his eyes.
“Well, perhaps I would be more inclined to trust you if I knew your name!” the Doctor snapped. This gave the boy pause.
“My name..? It's C- Crayne.”
“Crayne is it now?” asked the Doctor, disbelieving. Then suddenly he furrowed his brow and an expression of great perplexity crossed his face. “Do you know, I don't think that it is. What do you make of that, eh? I don't think you're Crayne at all. I think I know your name, though I can't think why. I think it's C'rizz... Yes...! C'rizz!”

***

Once the spark was lit behind the Doctor's eyes, it didn't take long for him to piece it all together, with only occasional prompting.
“So I am not really me at all. I suspected as much. Why would I wear such ridiculous clothing, hm? And I am sorry, my boy, but I'm afraid you're not quite quick enough to hide things from these eyes, eh?” He grinned and tapped the side of his head. “'We arrived' you said. Gave it away, didn't you? So 'I', that is, this new me, arrived here with you. But these... What were they? 'Psychologians'... shot me with this 'regression wave', and turned my mind back a few centuries! My, my, what a going on. Is that right?”
C'rizz took a moment to reply, somewhat stunned by this turn of events.
“Almost, but it was me that got zapped. Then you did some funny Time Lord trick so it affected you instead.”
“Good...” The Doctor smiled distantly. “Then I think after all those years I am still the same man.”
“But Doctor, just before you collapsed, you told me it was vital that I not tell you anything about your current incarnation.”
“And it was!” exclaimed the Doctor. “Why, that wave must have left me in a most delicate state. One wrong word might have damaged my mind irreparably. But clearly this new me didn't think that I might work it out myself, you see? Dear me, I must give myself more credit.”
“You mean, because you worked it out, your brain accepted it, whereas if I just told you, it'd have rejected it?”
“Yes! Very good, dear boy. Very good.” The Doctor stood and dusted himself down. Then he gazed off into distance and gave a little sigh. “And now, I think it is time I said goodbye.”

There was a voice in the Doctor's head; it was his own. Now it filled his head. Now the prattling wasn't nonsense, because this Doctor understood it. It was this Doctor's mind. And this Doctor realised he was unconscious...

…And woke up.

“Doctor?”
“C'rizz!” The Doctor laughed delightedly. “Glad to see me?”
“Yes! But... How did you...”
“Change back? Ah, that was easy once I'd worked out who I was. You see the regression wave has a temporal aspect. It doesn't just change people's minds, it exposes them to the past. That's why those humans had retreated to a pre-human state. But a Time Lord mind also has a temporal aspect. That's why I didn't become one of those creatures too. And it enabled me to fastforward myself back to my present day mind. Much more comfortable in here.” He smiled, but C'rizz's grin faltered.
“You mean... If you hadn't done whatever it was... I'd have been one of those things, too?”
“That's right.”
“In that case,” said C'rizz, “Let's get to that control room and shut this place down. For good.”

***

There was a voice in C'rizz's head.

There were many voices.

Now they were shouting, afraid. He closed his eyes against the tumult and thought of the Doctor and Charley. His friends; they were stability, they made him who he was, made him the man he wanted to be. But the Doctor had changed. Whatever had been done to him – had nearly been done to C'rizz – echoed through the Eutermesan's mind. He could feel the shifts in the Time Lord's nature threatening to unseat his own like a tide across loose shale. C'rizz feared the regression wave. He feared what it might do to him. He remembered those primal humans. He doubted it would stop there...

C'rizz suppressed his fear as they entered the Control Room, as the Doctor explained the plan, as he began wrenching up cables and flicking switches. Now he daren't move lest his horror overwhelm him.
It was a simple plan. The Doctor would set up a counterwave in the complex's resonance matrix. This would cause a rapidly amplifying harmonic that would cripple the matrix, silencing the transmitters and, conveniently, generating a shockwave sure to attract the authorities. The Doctor reckoned the guards would give in shortly afterward. After all, it was the Psychologians who'd been tampering with nature, no reason they should get dragged down too.
There was just one problem - the Doctor was in a rush. They'd sealed the door but it wouldn't hold for long. He'd had no time to check his calculations. And if he'd made a mistake, the counterwave could be every bit as devastating and terrible as the regression wave.

You had to trust the Doctor. You had to. You couldn't live this life if you didn't. But... Which Doctor? An hour ago he'd been a completely different person. A person who heretofore had shown no sign of existing. How much did C'rizz really know about the Doctor? How much didn't he know? Could he trust him? When the alternative was... Again he thought of those debased humans... The cabling was strewn mere feet away. It would take a moment to stop the Doctor making a terrible mistake...

Glancing up, C'rizz saw the Doctor frozen, hesitating - he didn't trust himself! He wasn't going to do it! The guards were at the door...

A memory surfaced in C'rizz's thoughts. Or... Was it a memory? Just for a moment, it was more like a voice in his head.

'Perhaps if you had done something to gain it.'

C'rizz strode forward, shouldered the Doctor aside, and pushed the button.

***

“Well!” exclaimed Charley Pollard, flopping into a chair in C'rizz's room hours later. “That is certainly not my idea of Allan Quartermain!”
“What are we talking about?” asked C'rizz dozily.
“Oh, honestly, C'rizz! The picture I went to see. Do wake up, it's nearly lunchtime.”
“Not everybody spent yesterday on a jolly outing!” he grumbled.
“Oh yes, the Doctor said something about that. What happened?”
“It wasn't very pleasant,” said C'rizz, his face darkening. “Misguided idiots messing with people's heads.” There was an awkward pause, so C'rizz added, “Oh! And I met the Doctor.”
“Ah, C'rizz...?” Charlie gave a bemused chuckle. “Are you sure they didn't mess with your head? You met the Doctor ages ago.”
“My head's fine.” His face soured again. “Despite their efforts.”
He filled her in on events, recieving a barrage of questions about the 'other' Doctor. As he did so, his face took on an unreadable expression. Chameleonic, like his skin. Eventually he sighed.
“He didn't trust me,” he said.
Charley laughed.
“Aw, poor C'rizz! I suppose you can't blame him, you were hiding something.”
“Yeah...” said C'rizz. “I guess I was.”
“Well, we've got good old, familiar Doctor back now. Doctor Classic,” Charley smiled.
“Yeah,” said C'rizz. “Now where's lunch?” But even as they sauntered to the kitchen, joking and chattering, C'rizz couldn't help thinking that the Doctor didn't seem that familiar at all, any more.