'Splintered. Fractured. Altogether there are eight of him.'

'Eight?' said Sabbath, fascinated. 'Are you certain?'

'I saw all of them at once. They worked in unison to kill me.'

'Could there have been more?'

'Possible, but I don't think so. It was very difficult for them to be too far separated, because of the stress of the eight different sensory inputs.'

Sabbath leaned back in his chair, intrigued. 'And it was one personality?'

'Yes, not like octuplets. Some independence of movement, obviously, but a basic integration of physical and mental self.'

'So the trick with the pinprick...'

'If you pricked one, they all bled. If you hit one, the other seven felt the blow.'

'We have no way of knowing how long he's been like this?'

'No. He's only been touring with his act four months. I couldn't trace him before that. I don't think he's the only example, either.'

'Of the fracturing?'

The Doctor nodded. 'There was a murder case only a few months ago. Eight people, an adult man and seven male children ' He stopped. He jerked around to face the door through which the young woman had gone.

'Interesting,' murmured Sabbath.

The Doctor turned slowly back to him. 'You hadn't figured it out?'

'I'm sorry to admit it, but no.'

'So you just took into service a woman you thought was a mass-murderer of children?'

Sabbath shrugged. 'I rescued her from a state institution. This is a war. All the combatants can't be choirboys.'

'You know,' said the Doctor too quietly, 'there's a large pool of possible recruits that falls somewhere between choirboys and child-killers.'

'Her gift is exceptional. She can actually see things you and I need instruments to perceive. I'm not surprised to find out she didn't kill those children. That would have to be a psychopathic act, and she shows definite signs of a moral sense her own, to be sure, but quite strong in its way.'

'I'm so glad she doesn't offend your sense of categories.'

Sabbath sighed again, with genuine, not theatrical, weariness. 'All right, ride your moral high horse. Don't sully yourself by association with me. Your integrity is much more important than our unity in the face of a force that might possibly unravel reality.'

I've been here before, the Doctor thought suddenly. In league with a moral monster. He strained for details, but gained only a sense of despair and helpless rage. And of fear. Falling...? It was no use. He wasn't going to remember. He stared up at the intricate plaster fretwork of the ceiling. 'My integrity...' he said tiredly, feeling the weak, unnatural beat of his single heart. 'You've destroyed that. I'm not complete. I'm not even incomplete. I'm separated separated.'

'You're alive to be separated,' Sabbath pointed out calmly. 'Technically speaking, this is the second time I've saved your life.'

The Doctor turned his cool, distant eyes on him. 'Thank you so much,' he said quietly. 'I hope I can make you regret it.'

Chapter Nine.

The Doctor didn't make the seventeen steps back up to the flat, he collapsed about halfway. Fortunately the landlady was out and the maid busy with the washing in the cellar. He could lie in privacy, catching his breath, waiting for the tremor in his limbs to subside and enough strength to seep back into his body for him to make it up to the landing and through the door. This, at least, was his plan. It was foiled, the privacy part anyway, when the front door opened and Anji came in.

'Doctor!'

She ran up the stairs and sat beside him. He looked terrible, greyish, and his eyes were strange. When she and Fitz had found him gone from the medical lab, they had both panicked. Fitz was still out combing the streets he knew it was futile to the point of absurdity, but he couldn't sit and do nothing. Anji, torn, had finally decided she'd be more anxious if she stayed away from the flat, wondering if the Doctor had returned and needed help, so she'd come back.

And now here he was, crumpled, eyes half shut, breathing shallowly.

'Let me help you up,' she said.

'Not yet.'

His voice was weak. That frightened her, which made her angry: 'You got up too soon, you idiot!'

'I think you're right.' He smiled at her. 'It was vanity, really. Wanted to prove I was fine.'

"And...?'

'And I'm not, obviously. Still,' he went on more cheerfully, 'I'm clearly better. Where's Fitz?'

'Out looking for you.'

He was puzzled. 'Just searching London?'

'He was worried worried. I I was worried. We've spent the last few days expecting you to die any minute. Your chest was smashed. The doctor said your ribs had pierced your heart.' was worried. We've spent the last few days expecting you to die any minute. Your chest was smashed. The doctor said your ribs had pierced your heart.'

'What doctor was this?'

'In Liverpool. We brought you back from a hospital there. You were in an accident. Don't you remember?'

'Vaguely.' His eyes clouded. 'I remember the accident.'

'What happened?'

'Help me up.'

She supported him into the sitting room, where he fell on to the settee. She hovered, feeling foolish and helpless. 'Do you want some food? You haven't eaten in days.'

'That's right,' he said wonderingly, as if she'd made a point that hadn't occurred to him. 'You know, I bet that's one reason I feel so bad.' He sniffed. 'He might have at least offered me a cup of tea.'

'Who?'

'Sabbath.'

'Sabbath!' Anji felt the blood leave her face. 'He's here?'

The Doctor nodded soberly. 'Oh yes.'

'Is that where you've been? Seeing him?'

'Yes. He's taken quite a nice house in Regent's Park. One of Nash's. Some people insist on the best.'

'What's he doing here?'

'It's not surprising, really. He picked up the same odd readings I did.'

Her heart sank. 'Please don't tell me you're going to be working together.'

'Well,' he commented drily, 'it's preferable to my running about like a fool fixing everything only to find out he's been playing me like a pinball machine.' The blue of his eyes looked suddenly chill and airless. Anji glanced away.

'You can't trust him.'

'No, of course not,' the Doctor said absently, his mind on something else. 'You know, he seems to have the strangest ideas about how time works. I don't think he's got it right at all. Of course, we had the discussion in Spain and I was still a bit rattled from the crisis with the TARDIS. Perhaps I misunderstood his point. I may be wronging him.'

'Not possible.'

'It won't do to underestimate him. He's brilliant in his way.'

'He's an arrogant creep.'

'Don't be too hard on him. It's a difficult life when you can't find anyone to take you as seriously as you take yourself.' The Doctor cocked his head. 'That must be Fitz.' A moment later, she heard the footsteps on the stairs and Fitz banged in. He glared at the Doctor.

'Here you are! I've been all over the bloody place not knowing what had happened to you. You ever hear of leaving someone a note?'

'Sorry, Da,' murmured the Doctor. To forestall Fitz hitting him with something, Anji rang for tea.

The landlady a motherly woman whose innate warmth was mixed with an air of having seen it all brought up a tray laden with sandwiches and cakes. The Doctor sat up, pleased as a child.

'Just the thing!'

The landlady smiled and set down the tray. As she withdrew, she gave Anji a sympathetic glance of solidarity in the face of male eccentricity. Anji smiled uncertainly. She disliked being waited on, but she had discovered it was the only way to get anything to eat or drink. The one time she had tried to venture helpfully into the downstairs kitchen, the landlady had politely but firmly run her out, and she'd been left with the impression of having done something insulting.

Fitz dug in heartily and the Doctor wolfed down several cakes. Anji gingerly nibbled on some salmon. She had a bad feeling about the way things were heading; it cut into her appetite.

'So where were you?' said Fitz with his mouth full. 'I've been running around like a right fool, asking policemen if they'd seen you.'

'He's been to see Sabbath,' said Anji glumly.

'Sabbath!' Fitz dropped a slice of ham. 'Oh bloody hell. Why's he here?'

'The same reason we are,' said the Doctor. 'There's something wrong with time.'

'They're going to be working together,' Anji said unenthusiastically.

'Oh no.' Fitz clinked down his teacup. 'Terrible idea. One of your worst.'

'No it isn't,' said the Doctor patiently. 'We're combining forces against a common threat.'

'But he...' Fitz faltered. 'You know what he...'

'Yes,' said the Doctor flatly, 'I know what he did to me. It saved my life, you know.'

Anji snorted. 'I find it hard to believe that was his primary motive.'

The Doctor sighed and rubbed his face. 'It wasn't. He needed my He needed the heart.'

'Needed it?' Fitz echoed faintly as Anji stared. 'What for?'

For a moment it looked as if the Doctor wasn't going to answer: his face closed up and got that remote look. But he must just have been trying to think how to explain things simply, for he said matter-offactly enough, 'Human beings have difficulties travelling in something Sabbath calls Deep Time.'

'Anj and me don't. Do we?'

'Not in the TARDIS. But the Jonah Jonah, for all its sophistication, isn't on a level with the TARDIS.'

'Why didn't he just steal the TARDIS then, instead of...'

'Instead of stealing my heart,' the Doctor finished ironically. 'What a phrase. I suppose I'll have to start sending him Valentines. I imagine it's because removing my heart was a fairly spur-ofthe-moment idea, not some deep-laid plot. He realised what was wrong with me and how to save my life and how to benefit himself all at the same time.'

'I don't care how good a slant you put on it,' Anji broke in. 'I think he'd like it if you were dead.'

'Possibly,' the Doctor acknowledged.

'Well, then.'

'Well then, what?' he said testily. 'I'm not going on holiday with him. I've worked with worse.'

'What does he want, anyway?' said Fitz, heading off the argument. 'What's his master plan?'

The Doctor stretched out again, hands behind his head, face speculative. 'Excellent question. I've been pondering it myself. As near as I can work out, he thinks the fabric of time is exceedingly fragile and can be pulled apart if too many timelines proliferate. So, obviously, he's against chaos. But it goes further than that.'

'He's a control freak,' said Anji. 'His way is the only way, and everyone else is a fool.'

'Well, that's a fairly commonplace form of self-worship, and I admit he subscribes to it. But I think there's more going on.'

'He's got partners,' said Fitz. 'Or colleagues. Something like that.'

'Or employers,' Anji said. 'Though I'm sure he imagines he's in charge.'

'Yes,' mused the Doctor. 'That's troubling. Who could they be?'

'Whoever they are, they apparently don't want you harmed,' said Anji, 'which I I find troubling.' find troubling.'