***Chapter 3***

Two Big Blokes, the Doctor thought, staring at the two beefy Time Lords who pulled him along to who knows where. His hands were fastened behind his back by rusty metal cuffs, but his legs weren't bound. Two big blokes, that he could deal with. Even the mentioned torture the Doctor could deal with, though he wasn't looking forward to it. No, the thing that had the Doctor's nerves frazzled and sweat on his brow was the said 'prophet' who knew of his genocide- and who also knew how to get his Tardis to land on a past Gallifrey.

Just being on Gallifrey astounded him. It was supposed to be in an unbreakable time lock! That meant no one can see the planet, past or present, let alone land on it.

The Doctor bit back a groan, knowing better than to struggle with the very large guys with the very big fists. The burning feeling on his torso grew in intensity with every step he took.

Rory shook his head, confused, as always. "How are you going to help us? You yourself said you can't belong in a human body."


Rory had never considered a Time Lord body. Of course, Rory never really gave any though to the Tardis as a living thing until Sexy happened.

Amy smirked, a plan forming in her small Ginger head. "You'll need to be close to said Time Lord body, correct?"

The Tardis didn't respond, causing Amy's smirk to grow.

"You do, don't you?" She pushed Rory playfully. "Looks like we do get to help!"

"We do?" Rory asked.


"Oh, forget what the Doctor said. He says a lot of things; ignoring one thing won't hurt. Besides, the Doctor could die if we don't help him!"

Rory whispered to Amy nervously. "Could he really?"

"Just go with it!"

"Uh, yeah!" Rory added. "He could be, uh...getting tortured right now! And we're just standing around chatting!"

The Doctor bit back a scream as blood slid down his chin from his split lip. The two beefy Time Lords, after chaining him up in a cold prison cell, continued to beat him up, punching him continuously in the stomach and a couple times in the face, for five minutes straight.

Rassilon had been watching for a couple seconds before he stopped the guards, dismissing them with a wave of his hand. "That's quite enough for now, thank you." He made a show of straightening the cuffs on his red suit.

"Going...to get...your hands dirty, Rassilon?" The Doctor muttered during ragged breaths.

Rassilon laughed coldly, brushing imaginary dust off of his immaculate suit. "No, of course not, Doctor. The Prophet, bless his hearts, offered to do that job for me."

"Who is this prophet?" The Doctor asked, pulling on the chains that hung from the ceiling, such that his knees didn't reach the floor. The chains, however rusty they appeared, didn't falter.

Rassilon only laughed as he left the Doctor hanging. The Prophet was coming soon, and he couldn't wait.

A/N: Sorry it's short. Thanks to all who reviewed on the last chapter! I'll try to update more quickly next time. ;) Please review!