Disclaimer: I do not own anything in this story that is recognisable from the Doctor Who verse. The plot however, stems from my own imagination and belongs to me. No copyright infringement is intended and I am not profiting financially from this story in any way.

Author's Note: I intend for this to be the first in a series of stories, but knowing me it may be a long time before I write the next one. That said, I can guarantee this story will be updated regularly till completion.

Time Agency Headquarters, Earth, 5024

He stood before this woman knowing he must look desperate but not caring. She on the other hand, was cool and unruffled. Her fathomless black eyes, set under arching brows looked him over in a detached manner, before glancing away dismissively. It was clear she cared little for his plight, but he had to try all the same.

"But ma'am-" he pleaded, voice strained.

"I'm sorry Agent Hall. That information is confidential."

"Confidential? Confidential?!"

"Yes, exactly. And I will thank you to watch your tone," the cool woman said chidingly.

Jayme felt his temperature rise, and clenched his teeth together. Bad enough that they'd betrayed him in this way, but for her to patronise him like this? His director was acting as though his anger was unreasonable. He shook his head. He'd been trying so hard to keep his cool, but this whole situation was just too much. He snapped.

"No!" he cried, jumping to his feet.

He stepped up to the desk, leaning over it to look down on the woman. Her composure cracked a moment, showing mild surprise, before becoming masked once more. Her reaction wasn't unexpected. He'd always been a consummate professional in his work, showing due respect to the chain of command. His decorum, along with his brilliant work and high success rate made him a favourite amongst the higher-ups. Some of the other agents even called him the 'golden boy' because he was so often held up as an example to strive for. And so, understandably, the outright disobedience and aggressive behaviour he was now displaying toward his superior was surprising.

"I beg your pardon agent?"

"I said no, Director Cartwright," he hissed, leaning forward, "N-O. As in no, I won't watch my tone. You stole two damned years of my memories – two years – and you sit there all calm and arrogant and dare to tell me it's confidential."

"Agent…" she said warningly, face stormy, and he deflated.

"Please ma'am," he entreated, switching tactics, "I'm begging here, actually begging. I need to know what I did. Did I do something so terrible? Is that why you did this to me? Just give me something here."

But the woman remained unmoved, "For the last time: that is strictly confidential. Now if that is all Agent Hall, see yourself out."

Jayme stood silent for a long moment before correcting, "Former," and when she looked up questioningly added, "Former Agent Hall."

"I beg you pardon?" she asked, surprise showing through her mask once more.

"I quit," he said, caught between despair, anger and exhilaration, "I was a damn fine agent and everyone knows it. I devoted my life to this agency and this is the thanks I get? I quit."

Then, before she could say anything else, he turned and stormed from the office. As he did so he spared a moment to quirk a morbid smile at Cartwright's old fashioned hinged door – an affectation he'd previously viewed with bemusement. In his current state of fury however, he felt quite appreciative of the device – being able to slam it closed behind him was quite satisfying.

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