Fenn opened her eyes.

The first thing that registered was her headache. It felt like a porcupine had decided to play water polo in her brain fluid. She shut her eyes again, but that didn't help, so she decided to at least try to figure out where she was.

The second thing she registered was a ceiling. It wasn't particularly interesting, as far as ceilings go. It was concrete, smooth, and unpainted, like something underground. The thought occurred to her that she was in a bunker. But the complete absence of the sound of people in the room seemed to contradict that theory. Scratch that.

She looked further around; the walls were all made of concrete, the same as the ceiling. In the wall on her right there was a door. This door was also pretty much nondescript- it was a basic metal door, with a small window mounted in the upper half. She took a deep breath of relief. That door meant she couldn't be in the holding chambers at the Time Agency- those chambers had no doors so that prisoners couldn't escape.

The thought of the Time Agency brought the memories flooding back, and she clutched at her stomach where the bullet had entered; but her skin was untouched and smooth; unblemished. She sat up in her bed and realised; she was in a bed. A hospital bed, by the looks of it; but what would a hospital bed be doing underground?

She lifted her arm to check that she still had it, and found it (gladly) still there, along with all of her limbs. She was wearing a blue hospital gown, the type that most healthy people despise. She looked around in panic for her clothes, and found them folded neatly on a chair in the corner. She quickly changed into them, noting that her vortex manipulator was missing, and that her clothes had been washed, ironed and dry cleaned. The people here were obviously friendly; or so unimaginably twisted that they liked to dry clean their victim's clothes before they did something awfully horrid to them. Fenn took another look around the room.

There were two chairs beside her bed, so at least one person had been sitting at her bedside whilst she was out. She checked her hair length- she hadn't been out long enough for it to grow. From the general set up of the room she guessed that she was on Earth, underground somewhere, probably in the late twentieth to mid twenty-first centuries (or some really low-tech discount hospital in the twenty-third century) and had probably been brought here by the Doctor, though whether or not he was still here was another question. Then she realised- she had absolutely no idea where here was.

She made the bed in return for whoever had ironed her clothes and checked the door, which she found unlocked. Outside or her little room she found...

A corridor. Nothing special about it. Just your basic underground corridor. Then came the inevitable decision of which direction to turn in and walk down. She decided left. Not for any particular reason. Just because she thought it was lucky.

She hadn't walked far when she reached a stairwell going up. The corridor kept going, but Fenn wanted to see exactly where she was. She reached the top of the stairwell and found herself in what appeared to be a massive storage archive. It was fairly cold; it felt like the freezer section of a supermarket. All that Fenn could see was shelving- just rows upon rows of shelves, some covered with drawers and metal containers, some sporting actual industrial freezers. Fenn rubbed some of the frost from the label of one of the draws. It read nothing but "Sample no. 1498. Collected 11/3/2000". Fenn opened the draw, and found nothing but what looked like a beetle's claw. She closed the draw again, and continued up a second stairwell, deciding that there was nothing more to see there.

And thus her non-eventful journey up continued until she had climbed nine floors, finding nothing but storage. The type of storage gradually changed from freezers to folders and filing cabinets, and the air became a comfortable temperature again. Fenn reached the top of the ninth stairwell and came into another storage level. She looked up at the shelves and sighed, about to turn back down the stairs when she spotted the TARDIS at the end of the corridor.

She ran up to the door, only to find it locked. She called out, "Doctor, are you in there? Doctor!" She patted her pockets for the key she had stolen from him, and then remembered giving it to him at the Time Agency. There was no point in trying to pick the lock-she didn't want to know what would happen, and she wasn't ready to find out. She turned back toward the stairs, and finally found the man she'd been looking for.

The Doctor was standing at the foot of the stairwell, wearing a brown hat, sunglasses and a pink hula flower string around his neck over his usual brown coat and suit. They ran towards each other, and the Doctor opened his arms to hug her, but she stopped right in front of him and slapped him across the face.

He grimaced, "What was that for?"

She stood, hands on her hips, "Two things; one, leaving me to climb up nine floors on my own, and two, wearing those."

He looked down at the flowers, "What's wrong with them?"

Then, to his surprise, she stepped in and hugged him tightly, and he realised she was crying. He patted her back, "Hey, what's wrong?"

"I don't want you to go," she sniffled.

"Go? I'm not going anywhere. What are you talking about?"

She released him, still sniffling, "I'm so sorry, Doctor. But those were the clothes you were wearing when you went to the Ood."