All Hell didn't break loose. Quite the opposite.

 All Hell compacted itself into a confined space, and had its fun.

 Instead, before that goal was attained, her reality somehow melted away and became the ultimate, ultra-sonic Technicolor climax. The phrase "I'm out of my face" took on a completely new meaning as she felt every part of her twist and contort, inside-out and backwards.

 Her every nerve fiber unravelled themselves, forming a sick gossamer web that seemed to suspend her. She tried to scream, but as she wasn't actually feeling any pain, much less could speak, this would be quite pointless. And to draw attention to her own horror would be a selfish gesture, considering everyone else on the station was feeling about the same.

 As her eyes boiled and froze at once, and her flesh reformed itself into myriad of morbid Play-Doh shapes, the only thing she could think of was why the Doctor was wrong, and why she was being put through this Hell.

 Maybe it was karma coming back to haunt her for ditching Jadi.

 "Shut up."

 Wil hadn't been aware that anyone was with him.

 "Doesn't matter, I'm here anyway."

 Wil looked up to see the TARDIS. He was laying in front of it, his back in obvious pain. The last thing he remembered...

 "That's right, bungo, you just took the brunt of a bomb blast, which propelled you right into the TARDIS. You've suffered such spinal damage that only the best of neurochiropractic surgeons would have _maybe_ a chance of giving you back seventy percent of your old physical capabilities."

 Wil finally focused enough to see some twisted demonic reflection of himself peering over him.

 Wait, scratch that. His vision had cleared enough to where it actually _was_ his reflection.

 "Doc...tor..."

 "Oh, sod the Doctor right now, he's got more important things to worry about. Like a station careening pell mell into a black hole, and trying to save everyone on the station, without gravity reducing everyone into goop. Oh yeah, you're experiencing it now, but you've blacked out, and the only thing you can worry about is your back. How like you -- run away when there's a crisis. Schmuck."

 "Fool....I was a Fool on Paracastria..."

 "What's this 'was' crapola? Was, am, always will be. Fool, schmuck, twit, chump, dipshit, all variations on a theme..."

 The OtherWil knelt down before him.

 "See, you had to run away, didn't you? Every single goddamn time something comes up that might make your world a little less safe you hit the highway. Fercryin'out-loud, you were about to turn tail on the Doctor. 'Sorry Doc, I'm not having any fun, I'm taking the ball home.'"

 "Not true..."

 "Oh the HELL it's not! You couldn't even be bothered to _ask_ him to join the TARDIS crew. Oh _nooooo_, _YOU_ had to sneak aboard! And then, oh ho, dig this boys, you lose the Doctor in England, and the next thing you know you go out and get _sloshed_ with someone that a mad religious cult is hunting Time and Space for! Great heroism there, miboy."

 "Nana...Bevin...."

 "Oh _them._ Sure, yeah, you decide to try to bumrush that Cyberman, but again, you failed miserably. And you only did that so you could try to get into sweet Bevin's cotton laced's. Idiot."

 "Why...are you doing this to me?"

 "Oh it's not me, friend, it's you. You're doing all of this on your own. You can't handle it when you frag up, and now you're mind's running away. You can't feel anything from the black hole because you've shut your mind off. You can feel the immense pain you're in, because you can only focus on yourself. I'm here because you want somebody to ream you a new anus because you're so filled with self-doubt and loathing that you think this is what you deserve. But you know what?"

 "No...what..."

 "We're almost through that black hole now, and soon your conscious mind will switch back on, and you'll be back in the real world."

 The OtherWil stood up again. "I'm going to do the only thing that would hurt a masochist -- I'm doing to deny you your pleasurable pain, and let you sort it out on your own."

 *Somehow*, the Doctor thought, *I didn't imagine going through a black hole unprotected would be anything like this*.

 As he wandered about on his stiltlegs, the Doctor seemed to be adjusting pretty well. Of course, someone who has had over 650 years experience in traveling about the space-time vortex, using power harnessed from a black hole, tends to adjust rather well to gravitational anomalies.

 The fact that his vision was slowly coming into one image, as opposed to the hexacompound view he'd had since entering the black hole when his eyes had quite literally bugged out, was a good sign. Either he was adjusting, or they were nearing the end of their trek through the rip in space.

 He was nearing the command center, now. Time to put things right, as he usually did.

 True space stretched out around him. They had made it through. Safely.

 "Well, Igon," he said, "it would appear our friends on the other side were correct. I'm still here, safe and sound. Looking at the chronometer, as far as the rest of the universe was concerned, what seemed like an eternity to us lasted mere milliseconds. My, but astrophysics is a wondrous thing at times."

 Costello turned to face Igon. Instead, he saw a twisted mass of compacted flesh blobbed out against the wall.

 Costello sighed. "Some people just don't have what it takes to survive."

 The screaming jolted Angela back into reality. Oh, yes, it _was_ there, she noted. Slowly, she rose, and tried to follow the scream.

 As she traversed the station, she could see horror. Some had made it through with naught but a bad headache. Others had become parodies of the human form, and expired.

 Black holes, bad news. Mental note.

 She continued to run towards the scream. Towards...

 The TARDIS. Wil.

 Her speed grew now. She knelt before Wil.

 "Wil. Get up."

 "Can't move. Let me die."

 "Come on, now, get up you--"

 "No. Spine smashed. I'm finished. No good."

 "DOCTOR!"

 The Doctor stepped in, to see a man before the console, and a gelatinous mass of flesh on the walls.

 "Hello."

 The man before the console jumped.

 "I'm the Doctor, and..."

 The man drew a blaster.

 "You must be the one who's behind all this!"

 OK, being spaced, that he could believe. Then, shunting through a black hole without an envirosuit and _surviving_, that he could just about buy.

 But this?

 He was in a white room, completely white. Enough to induce madness. Then, to top that off, he was completely naked, save his bonds, which seemed to be some sort of living technology. This just seemed like a bad dream. Wonder what some of the psychtek's would make of it. Probably something sexual, they always did. Weirdos, they were.

 But not as weirdo as the thing that suddenly appeared before him. An insectiod _thing_ stood over him, prodding him, saying something in some weird musical screeching.

 Then, one of its handclaw analogue thingies touched his temples. Jadi felt a slight sting, but then the thing's voice changed.

 "Apolageezzz fer zze zztrange tonnnne, but eye zzzink zzizz izz zz clozzezzt to yerr zzzpeech wee can get."

 "What the Hell are you?" Jadi demanded.

 "Wee are zze Rzzand. Yooo arre in ourr ooneeverzz noww....yooor hooman compatriotzz havve zzent yooo too uzzz."

 "What compatriots, the Doctor? Angela?"

 "Zzee zztazzhun peepill. Wee hazz brought zzem heeeruh....and wee willl goooo zzeruh. Zze Rzzand wizzh to ekzzpand ouruh turrf. Yooo will zzeee."

 An image appeared now before Jadi. Surrounding the station, at the edge of the black hole, at least fifty insectoid starships suddenly materialized. This was the spearhead of an invasion, and nobody could warn the other...his universe.

 "Holy sheepshit," Jadi said, and passed out.

 The Rsand looked over him. "Weeeekuh kuhreeechurzz. Wee zzhall ekzzpand eeezzilee..."

 To be continued....