Grace glanced at her watch again with a sigh. Fifty eight minutes to go. She looked around the room, hoping for a chance to escape. There were still about ten Daleks in the room, the others having followed the Doctor and Mel out. Four of the remaining Daleks were reciting poetry about the Omega war. The others were listening to the recital in silence and blocking her escape, giving Grace the impression of an attentive audience combined with a herd of bouncers.

 "Then came the Doc-tor and ruined all our fun;
He said "go away or I'll blow up your sun"
Davros asked him back to his place,

 Grace didn't want to think about the last line on that stanza. There were some things she just *didn't* want to know about the Doctor.

 "Sip dooie, sip dooie, wiggle that gun stick."

 Grace looked at the audience again. She knew she wouldn't get more than ten paces before they blasted her, but she was beginning to feel that *anything* would be better than sitting there listening to that. She glanced around the room looking for inspiration, anything that could act as a distraction. The only way out was by the single door at the other end of the room.

 Finally, Grace's eyes came to rest on the object she was sitting on. She gasped in amazement, for on a small control panel were the words: "Transporter ready -- please insert coins"

 ***

 Meanwhile, in a different universe, on a different planet, during a different time period, a different Doctor and a different Grace were drinking tea.

 Mortimer had offered scones and was being generally very civilised. The Doctor and Grace had no idea who he was. They had guessed that he was a Time Lord, but beyond that they knew nothing. So, after they had bid good-bye to Annette, the Doctor had leaned towards Grace, pecked her on the check and whispered "Let's just try and wing it and get as much info. as we can." They had then stepped into Mortimer's house and been shown into the parlour where they now sat.

 "So tell me, Mortimer," the Doctor accepted one of the scones and proceeded to cover it in jam and cream, "what have you been up to since we last met?"

 "Oh, the usual. Sifting through Time and Space, helping people out where I can, but on the whole soaking up the ambiance of the universe."

 The Doctor decided he was lying, but about what, he couldn't be sure.

 "And what are you doing here at the moment?" asked the Doctor.

 "I was rather hoping you could tell *me*, Doctor. After all, it was *you* that invited *me*."

 The Doctor refused to be caught off guard. He wasn't sure why, but he was beginning not to like this person. He decided to bluff.

 "But, my dear Mortimer, I received an invitation from *you*."

 Mortimer paused for a moment. "Well, that *is* interesting. It would seem that someone is setting us up. I wonder who?"

 ***

 The Doctor walked briskly into Mel's bedroom. Despite the strangeness of the situation, he refused to be put off guard.

 It had been ten minutes since he had left Grace. His Dalek escorts had whisked him off to a dressing room. He had been introduced to a portly looking Dalek named Hubert who had proceeded to show him various different types of silk underwear, some of which were obviously not meant for the humanoid form. He had refused to change into any of them, at which point Hubert had threatened to do the changing if he didn't cooperate. The thought had made him shiver, and he had very quickly found something he didn't despise on principle.

 So now he found himself standing in Mistress Mel's bedchamber, dressed in a rather short silk kimono and not much else. He made one of the poses he had once caught Chris doing in front of the mirror and said: "Will this do?"

 Mel was still in her black outfit, lying on a large bed. She patted the silk bed sheets as if looking for something.

 "It's been a while for me," she said. "I tried to play with the Daleks, but they keep trying to exterminate you if they don't win."

 The Doctor walked closer to the bed as his mind raced through his options, searching for a way out. "Win?"

 "Yes, they are very bad losers. Ah, here it is." She flung the sheets back to reveal a Monopoly board.

 The Doctor's face dropped. This was going to be harder than he had thought.

 "What's up? You used to love this game," asked Mel.

 "I did, but I've had some bad experiences with Monopoly lately."

 ***

 Grace couldn't stand any more of the poetry, so, hoping that she had set the transporter correctly, she pressed the de-mat button and faded out of that reality.

 ***

 The Doctor blinked, sipped his tea and pondered where the ten Daleks had just come from. Mortimer seemed to be grappling with the same question. So were the Daleks, until they recognised him and decided that he had caused this disruption.

 The Doctor stood up, shouted "What in the world could *that* be?" and pointed out the window. In the same movement he grabbed Grace's wrist and pulled her out the door.

 The Daleks, having not found anything interesting out the window, turned back to discover that all the occupants of the room had vanished. They were a little confused. But when the *tea trolley* dematerialised, they just gave up trying to understand and proceeded to exterminate the remaining offending furniture.

 The Doctor and Grace went running out the front door and into the labyrinth of Paris. They were followed by ten pissed off Daleks. Grace was still dazed and rather confused, but the Doctor seemed to know where he was going, so she just followed him as best she could. They turned a corner and she saw the TARDIS. Moments later, they were inside and safe.

 The Doctor swung Grace around, and still panting, planted a wet sloppy kiss on her lips.

 Grace realised that something was wrong.

 Then she noticed the TARDIS.

 ***

 "Grace - there you are," said the Doctor as he trotted into the warehouse. He glanced around and noticed a lack of Daleks. "Come on; we had better be going." He grabbed Grace's wrist and they went jogging across Skaro.

 "What's going on?" Grace asked. She felt dazed and rather confused.

 "Well, while Mel and I were playing Monopoly, I had a vision. You see, after rolling, my piece landed on 'Ulysses drive'."

 "But there isn't a Ulysses drive in Monopoly." She knew exactly what he was going to say next.

 "Exactly; it must be a clue."

 No, *that* wasn't it - he was supposed to say "Of course not, you stupid girl!"

 Now she was really confused.

 "So, what street was it supposed to be?" she asked.

 "Mayfair."

 They had made it back to the TARDIS. The Doctor ushered her in, glanced around to check that they hadn't been followed, and then ducked inside. Grace grabbed the lapels of his silk Kimono and planted a wet sloppy kiss on his lips.

 Grace realised that something was wrong

 Then she noticed the TARDIS.

 ***

 Mel was still tied up with her whip when Hubert rolled into the room.

 "Mistress?" grated Hubert.

 "Mmm mmm argh ulmp," replied Mel.

 It took Hubert a few minutes to untie his Mistress, Dalek claws not being designed for such delicate work.

 "You took your time!" Mel shouted at him and then sliced him into a few pieces with her whip. Feeling slightly better, she shouted for her guards.

 "Find the Doctor - he's heading for his TARDIS. Don't let him leave the planet. And if he does leave, then follow him!" She flicked her whip at the nearest guard just to make sure they understood her commands.

 ***

 Mortimer's TARDIS was hovering at a point that was theoretically located above Paris. The city was in trouble - the Daleks were destroying things left, right and center. If they weren't stopped soon, they would seriously threaten the future of Earth. And the Time Lords would blame *him*. However, there were more pressing matters to attend to.

 The Doctor's TARDIS was leaving Earth. Mortimer followed the Doctor, leaving the Earth to be doomed.

 ***

 After Grace pulled away from him as if she was embarrassed, the Doctor noticed that the TARDIS had dematerialised. He glanced over at the controls, and his expression of curiosity was replaced by anger.

 "I think I know what has happened," said Grace, trying to work some sense into the situation.

 "Oh, good," said the Doctor bitterly. "Why don't you tell me?"

 Grace paused. She didn't like this Doctor much.

 "Well, obviously, the transporter somehow switched me back to my universe, but not you."

 The Doctor looked up from the console as if only just realising the implications.

 "And things weren't complex enough already?"

 Grace huffed and crossed her arms.

 "Look, I'm only trying to help. Where are we going, anyway?"

 "I wish I knew. The TARDIS auto-pilot has been remotely activated. We won't know where we are going until we get there."

 Grace stormed off out of the console room.

 "Where are you going?" shouted the Doctor.

 "To get changed out of this dress!" she shouted back.

 ***

 "Let me guess," said the Doctor. "You're the Grace from *this* universe."

 "And you're the Doctor from the other."

 "Yes."

 The Doctor was flicking switches on the console. Grace wasn't sure how to handle this new development.

 "So, what are you doing?" she asked.

 "Looking up Mayfair in the Universal Data Bank." he paused. "Problem is, it's in as much of a mess as the TARDIS log."

 The Doctor's search was interrupted by an explosion and a shower of sparks from the console panel he was working on.

 "Oh goody," said the Doctor. "The Daleks are shooting at us."

 "Perhaps we should leave?"

 "Just as soon as I find out where Mayfair is."

 "What's wrong with the one on Earth?"

 Another panel exploded and the lights dimmed for a moment.

 "Well, it's just a little bit obvious - it *must* mean somewhere else."

 The scanner exploded, showering the Doctor with fine fragments of plastic.

 "Perhaps we should just leave and work out the details on the way."

 He pressed the demat switch and the TARDIS dropped out of reality.

 ***

 Mortimer had been watching the Daleks attack the TARDIS on the alternate Skaro. The Doctor's TARDIS had faded away, which wasn't surprising, considering that that was what TARDISes do. But Mortimer was surprised when the *Daleks* faded away.

 Things were getting interesting.

 To Be Continued...