Crossover between Dr. Who (10th Doctor), Bourne Ultimatum (the movie) and Ruroni Kenshin. You have been warned. Please critique!

Disclaimer: I do not own Ruroni Kenshin, Dr. Who, or the Borne Ultimatum. I am not making money off of this. I'm just an insane fan-girl...


Fear had long since abandoned the dark-haired man, along with most of his other emotions. The only thing that seemed to really get to him these days was his will to live, a firm determination and (as the situation seemed to be determined to prove at the moment) annoyance.

"Seriously, how many times can they come after me?!" the man grumbled to himself when he spotted the car parked in front of his newest apartment. He hadn't even been here a month. Couldn't they just leave him in peace?

He shook his head as he ducked down an alley way casually. Of course they couldn't. As far as he knew, Blackbriar had been shut down just like Treadstone had been. Of course, that right there said it all. Did they want him and his skills for some other top secret program that had sprung up in Blackbriar's stead? Did they want to arrest him? Or did they want to thank him and exonerate him? Somehow he doubted that last one, as absolutely blissful as it would be to not have to worry about running anymore.

'It's my own fault,' he thought, grabbing onto a fire escape and hefting himself up onto it. 'I was the one that stayed in America. Should have gone down to Mexico.' He'd actually been planning on heading down to South America after the whole Blackbriar fiasco had calmed down and been out of the public eye for a few months. If he took the legal way, it would draw less attention to him. Well, it looked like he'd just have to get down there the hard way now.

Warily, he looked around, peaking over the lip of the roof. The guards they had all over the apartment building and snipers (well, definitely no exoneration) opposite said building weren't difficult to spot, and he knew they'd already gone through his apartment. He didn't even sigh at the loss, although he did manage a frown. It looked like he'd just have to cut his losses, grab the cash he stashed in the local bank and head for the boarder.

The tennis shoes he wore for his daily run squeaked against the old metal as he quickly dropped back to the alley way. It didn't look like anyone had spotted him so far.

Retaking his casual aire, he turned and began to walk lightly in the direction opposite of his house. Too bad the alley had been blocked on the opposite end. It would be a lot easier to remain unseen from the next street over. As soon as he had turned the nearest corner, he broke into a fast jog. Running would normally draw attention to him, but seeing as he was dressed as a jogger, he was perfectly happy to have an excuse to hide in plain sight.

Across from the bank, he stopped at an Old Navy and bought some khakis, a dress shirt and a jacket before heading over to the gas station on the corner to wash away the worst of the sweat and change clothes. Once he was somewhat cleaned up, he tossed his work-out clothes in the garbage bin and headed across the street.

It didn't take him long to empty the deposit box under the name Brian Fox, but as he exited and looked towards the door, four men walked through it. He knew them immediately for the agents they were, despite their average clothes.

Cursing his luck (he figured they had to be watching the bank to act this quickly), he turned towards the bathrooms and stair cases.

He knew they'd spotted him, so as soon as the door closed, he shot up the stairs, taking them two at a time. Of course, this would have to happen after he'd been running all morning. The doors below him burst open and several pairs of feet began pounding up the stairs after him, which only gave him the motivation to move faster.

This particular bank branch only had four floors. Depending on the situation, that could be extremely helpful, or his death sentence. In this case, he didn't find himself too pleased as there were other buildings around that had a few more stories on them, which only gave more optimal sniping positions. However, it was the only national bank within a half-an-hour running distance of his apartment that had been built small enough that he could climb down the outside fairly quickly if necessary. He seemed to do that a lot while on the run. Of course, he hoped it didn't come to that.

As of right now, his main goal was the elevator shaft. If he could gain access before they caught up, he could sneak down and out under their noses.

On the fourth floor, he grabbed the handle of the door leading into the hallway, and froze. Through the glass, he could see several men climbing off of the elevator, all of which had ear pieces. He swore. Alright then, Plan B.

Thankfully, he'd had the foresight to stash a bag in the deposit box, not a suitcase. He shrugged the strap over his head as he came to the door on the roof. It had been locked with a padlock. Without missing a beat, he reached in the sack and pulled out a pair of very large cutters, having known that if he needed to resort to Plan B they would be necessary.

Once outside, he slammed the metal door shut and jammed the pliers under them. That should buy him a few seconds at least.

That accomplished, he did a quick look around. No one had shot at him yet, which meant they had followed him to the bank instead of actually watching it. So they had to have seen him earlier at the apartment. As annoyed as he was that he hadn't realized he was being followed (rare for him-the guys they had following him had to be good), this was still a positive development.

His shoes thudded hollowly against the hard rooftop as he ran to the edge and peered over. The streets below weren't exactly crowded, but it would be better than standing out alone.

Behind him, the door thudded loudly, as if someone (or several someones) had run into it. They'd caught up, but couldn't seem to get through the door. It only took him a moment to hop over the railing surrounding the roof. He hadn't gotten a chance to even turn around and begin his decent when a hand clasped his arm. No one had been on the roof when he'd scouted it earlier, so the hand popping out of nowhere accomplished something that almost never happened: It startled him.

"What the-" he began as his shoe slipped. With a cry, he felt himself fall, and grasped onto the railing and the hand that had grabbed him out of pure instinct.

"You don't have to do this," the man who grabbed his arm said. He now held onto both of Brian's arms, trying to keep him from falling. The newcomer wore a long, brown coat on over a dark brown, pin-striped suit, and he had short, dark hair. He also sported what sounded like a English accent. "Come back up, I can help," he spoke calmly but urgently.

"Who are you?!" Brian shot out, thankful that he'd finally been able to get his footing again. He glanced at the man in frustration. How could he have been so utterly rookie as to miss someone that conspicuous on the roof? Someone who seemed to have a hero complex none the less. "I wasn't going to jump!"

The man paused, looking surprised. "You weren't?"

"No!" Brian growled. "Now let me go!"

"Um, it's not really a good idea to-"

A particularly loud thud from the door (facing away from them as that's why he'd chosen this side of the building) drew the man's attention before he could finish his sentence.

"Are they chasing you?" he asked, turning back to look at Brian with a mix of confusion, surprise and wariness underlined with just a touch of mistrust. "You didn't rob the bank, did you?"

Brian couldn't help but feel offended. What kind of an idiot would rob a bank and then head to the roof, of all places? Still, he needed to get rid of this 'Good Samaritan' asap, hopefully without hurting him.

"So what if I did?" he asked, adding a slight menace to his words. With any luck, the guy would think of him as a street punk (despite his current clothes), possibly packing heat, and let him go. "Gonna shoot whoever gets in my way!"

The man didn't move. Instead, he seemed to pause and contemplate Brian.

"You have more than money in that bag, and pulling off a heist from the safety deposit box in broad daylight would be nearly impossible...although I bet you could do it."

Something about the man's attitude wasn't right. This guy either had a great deal of experience or some formal training if he could see something like that. "You don't think I did?" he asked, again adding the slightest threat, but he did so halfheartedly as he had a feeling he wouldn't be able to fool this guy.

The man looked down his nose at Brian, as if studying something utterly fascinating. "No, I don't think you did."

"You don't want to get caught up in this," Brian said, dropping the gangster-like act altogether. "So you're going to let me go." With that, he pushed off of the roof with his legs, vaulting back over the railing, surprising the man enough to let him go and stumble backwards. He then turned back to the metal barrier lining the roof and launched himself over it a third time, only to hear a bullet hit the wall right next to his feet. He immediately dove back onto the roof, cursing. They'd either gotten a really lousy sniper set up, or backup had arrived and they'd started shooting at him from the street.

"So if you didn't rob the bank, why are they shooting at you?" the Englishman asked as he too dropped to the roof and covered his head.

"Long story," Brian growled, hearing the next thump from the door. He ducked again as another bullet flew over his head.

"This is why I hate coming to America," the man grumbled. The American ignored him and looked around the roof, calculating. If he approached any other side of the building, he would be in view of either the men behind the door leading onto the roof or whoever was shooting at him from below. Currently his best bet would be to run to the opposite side and just chance that the door couldn't be shot through-

"Seriously," the Englishman said. "What did you do?"

"Nothing!" Brian muttered absently. He began to crawl towards the opposite railing. Once he was gone they probably wouldn't touch the bystander, so he ignored the guy and kept his eyes fixed on his destination. Just a few more inches before he could get up and run without the person below seeing him. He only had a few seconds before the roof door broke, he could tell from the thumping and progressively more obvious rattling. Actually he was surprised (and a touch grateful) that it had held so far.

"Do you mean that?"

"Huh?" he felt something grab his leg, and turned his attention to the other man for a moment.

"You really didn't do anything?"

"Like I said," Brian turned his attention back to the railing across the roof, "long story." With that, he kicked out of the guy's grasp and shot forward towards the opposite side of the roof.

"What are you doing?!" The man yelped. "You'll get yourself kill-"

He wasn't fast enough. Brian had no sooner taken his first step than the door broke and the four men he'd seen earlier poured out, turning their guns on him. He had to change his direction then. Sliding to a stop, he pulled out his own gun and shot at their feet, causing them to all duck for cover as he scrambled back to the man. The last thing he needed was for an innocent bystander to get hurt in all of this. Not only would it just make the whole situation more tense and altogether worse, she wouldn't have wanted that.

He grabbed the man's arm and shoved him behind...something. It took him a moment to realize that he hadn't really seen this 'something' before. That set off warning bells in his head. He could shrug off overlooking something or someone once because of a panic, but with his training, missing two different, very large objects approached the boarders of 'unheard of'. Blinking in confusion, he looked up at the object they'd taken refuge behind and saw what looked like a large, blue telephone booth that said "police box" on it.

"You could have dislocated my arm!" the man whined.

Brian turned his attention back to him. "Do you want to get shot?!"

The man cocked his head for a moment. "So you saved me?"

The American ignored him again, instead choosing to lean around the blue box and fire off a few shots.

"You're deliberately missing them," the man muttered, startling Brian for the second time that day. That really unnerved him. Brian didn't get startled. Ever. The man had stood up and now leaned over Brian's head, looking around the side of the blue box.

Brian reached up and grabbed the front of his jacket, yanking the Englishman down next to him.

"Stay here or get killed," he warned.

"Oh, you're a worry wart," the man said calmly as he ignored Jason's warning completely and stood up again as he took a key out of his pocket.

"Get down!" Brian hissed. Seriously, the guy had to have mental problems to-

The door to the booth suddenly fell open, causing him to fall backwards now that he lacked support.

"What the-" he started again, then stopped. His eyes grew wide. From the outside, the booth hadn't been more than four square feet at most, but he now stared at a cavern at least six times that size. "What...the..."

"You like to say that a lot, don't you?" the man looked down at him.

Brian went through every single training scenario, situation and rumor he'd ever heard, and nothing came to mind that fit what he was seeing now. For the first time in his life, he'd stumbled across something that made no logical sense at all whatsoever. It bordered on Magic...

But Magic didn't exist! He wasn't sure of many things in his life, but that was one of them.

Unable to comprehend the sight, he shot to his feet and whirled around, backing away from the impossible box.

"You...may not want to do that," the man said just as bullets started whizzing by. His body reacted instantly, years of training and conditioning causing him to duck and rush back into the impossible box, despite his shock. As soon as he'd cleared the doors, the man closed them. "Alright then!" he grinned and ran past Brian and up a ramp to the large, spherical console in the center of the room.

Despite the fact that Brian could almost instantly tell exactly where weapons, plans and personal could be hidden in the room, he still couldn't seem to describe it. The only thing that came close was something resembling the concave of a spaceship, with warm-colored light-bulbs illuminating every crack and cranny in the room. Thick, coral-like columns supported the ceiling, branching off at seemingly random places while a ramp from the doorway lead up to a raised, metal-mesh floor covering what looked like storage compartments and various mechanical items. For the first time in a very long time he didn't even want to guess at what else lay hidden below the Englishman's feet. Any number of items could fit.

"This is impossible," Brian muttered, running a hand through his short hair. "I finally lost it..."

"It's just bigger on the inside," the man stopped pounding the helter-skelter console with a hammer and looked over at Brian as if it were the most natural thing on the planet.

"What is this?" the American insisted heatedly. "Is this some sort of trick?"

"No trick. It's just the TARDIS."

"How?" It had to be a trick or a trap of some sort. There just wasn't any other logical explanation.

"How what?"

"How is this thing not a trick!?"

"Well," the man put his hands in his pockets and rocked on his feet before a shutter ran through the room causing both of them to stumble and grab at the nearest stable object. "That! That's how it works! The TARDIS uses a multi-point cross-dimensional flow system to essentially switch out pockets of space-time within a relatively locked structure – kind of like a Rubix Cube shoved into a much smaller box."

He followed, that...really he did. That didn't mean he understood the implications. So Brian did the only thing he felt he could do at the moment. He reached into his waist and drew his gun.

"Oh, don't do that," the man said, nose crinkling in disgust and annoyance. For a moment, Brian wondered how he pulled off the whining tone while managing to still sound as if he knew he were superior in some way.

Brian continued to point the gun at the man's head. He'd figure something out about his pursuers, but first he had to get away from this illusion. Then something occurred to him: maybe this was part of the chase; an elaborate (and extremely well executed) trap. He felt his jaw tighten.

"They shut down Blackbriar and Treadstone. So what program took their places this time?"

He had to admit, the man had a very convincing confused expression.

"That sounds ominous," he said, looking completely unfazed, even with the weapon directed at his head.

"I told you guys to leave me alone!" Brian insisted, backing towards the door. "Can't you just leave me in peace?!"

"You know, I don't really like answering questions with a gun pointed at me. Can you put it away?"

Brian didn't respond. Instead, he reached behind him and found the handle to the doors. The moment he opened it, he'd have to run for the edge and take his chances with the shooters from the ground, but for some reason that scared him a lot less than this guy and his illusion.

"You'll never get me again," he said. "I won't kill for you or anyone else!"

The man raised an eyebrow. "That's good. Get rid of that," he nodded to the weapon, "and I'll bet it'll be a lot easier."

With a growl, Brian threw the door open, turned and raced outside, expecting to dodge bullets. Instead of the gray roof, though, and to his utter shock, he found himself in an open field with wild grasses and flowers growing everywhere.

Now utterly flabbergasted, he stopped, dropping the hand holding the gun to his side. Around that point is where his mind shut down, refusing to work. There was just no logical explanation for this. None at all.

"TARDIS stands for Time And Relative Dimension In Space. It's a spaceship." Brian didn't answer, instead choosing to continue to stare at the field in utter bafflement. So the man continued. "It's also a time machine. This is Japan, mid-1800's...I think. The country just ended their civil war. Well, that's what we'd call it. An uprising or rebellion really. Now they live in an era of relative peace."

"Why would you bring me here?" Brian finally managed to mutter. "And who are you?"

The man pursed his lips, managing to look nonchalant but mischievous and curious at the same time. "Me? I'm the Doctor. Why here? So you can tell me exactly why they were chasing you without having to worry about dealing with loud, annoying bullets."

"I won't give you any information."

"About secret government programs called 'Blackbriar' and 'Treadstone'? Black Ops or undercover groups, right?"

Brian turned and raised the gun at the Englishman's head again. The man's eyebrows furrowed and he rocked back on his heels, his hands in his pockets once again, looking thoroughly disgusted now. "No, don't...not again! Seriously, put that thing down!"

"No one knows about those without being apart of them."

"Except you." Brian didn't answer. "That's just it, isn't it. You got tired of killing, so you left. That's why they were chasing you, wasn't it?"

"How do you know that?!" Brian demanded, squashing down on the panic he felt begin to rise inside of his gut. He hated that. Trained assassins didn't panic.

"I've seen it before," he said slowly with a voice suddenly full of sadness. "Hundreds of times to hundreds of people and dozens of races."

"So you're an alien too?"

"Yup."

"And you just abducted me." He said it as more of a statement than a question.

The Doctor smiled sheepishly. "Yeah, I guess I did. Well this will be a new experience for you. I don't do the weird probe things or tests if that's what you're worried about. Do you want me to take you back?"

Brian paused for a moment and really thought about it. He had no idea what was going on, but his instincts told him that he was safer here he had been on at the bank, no matter how much it played with his mind. He knew he shouldn't trust the man as he had far too little information concerning his current predicament to draw any real conclusions, and he would proceed with caution, but there was something about the man and his nonchalant attitude... Brian didn't know what, but it was something, so he lowered his gun and holstered it slowly. When he spoke again, his tone seemed slightly dazed.

"Hallucination or not, it's better than that roof."

For the first time since Brian had met him, the alien smiled a bright, brilliant smile that spoke volumes of his personality. "Brilliant." The American couldn't understand it, but he felt for the first time in his life that he could trust a complete stranger. Well, not counting her...

He shook the thought from his head and turned to look around the field again.

"Why Japan?"

The Doctor shrugged. "Felt like it. It's a short jump, so it makes for a fast escape."

"Why did you help me?"

"Oi," the brown-haired man stopped him. "Why are you asking all the questions. Don't I get one?" Brian raised his eyebrow, but remained silent.

"What's you're name?" the Doctor asked as he walked up to Brian, holding out his hand and smiling again.

"Brian Fox."

"I meant your real name," the Doctor gave him a pointed look.

Brian snorted. "I don't deserve a real name."

"Oi," the Alien frowned in disapproval.

The American resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Right now, I don't have a name. I used to be David Webb when I was a captain in the Army, but when I became an assassin, I took the name Jason Bourne."