A/N: Well, here goes. At this point, I'm just going to have to tell you that I do have a plan, and that you'll need to trust me for a bit.
Beta'd by Paul and Audrey. Special thanks to Paul, who told me that this chapter wasn't working and made me rewrite it.
Updating every Saturday morning until further notice.
"Last night," Rory began, with all the appropriate solemnity required, dirty blond hair almost in his eyes. "In my back garden –"
"You're not doing it right!" Amelia interrupted, cutting him off. "An' it was my front garden anyway."
Rory frowned mulishly. "Well, if he did come to me, why would he land in my front garden? It's got weeds. The back one's much prettier, honest."
"'sides," Macha piped in, "they might get suspicious if your stories sound the same."
Amelia rounded on her. "An' why won't you do it?"
Macha gave her an utterly unbelievable innocent face. "They wouldn't believe me," she said sweetly. She was the only one of the trio to have an upper class accent – Rory's was firmly lodged in the Midlands, and Amelia had clung onto her Scottish one for years – not that any of the three cared.
"Fine." Amelia pouted for a bare second before returning her attention to Rory. "Again. Start at the beginning."
Rory wrinkled his nose, but obeyed. "Last night, in my back – which one is it, anyway?"
Macha shook her head, flopping back to lie flat on the floor. "Does it matter?"
"Of couse it matters!" Amelia stood up, making gestures with both arms that were meant to look impressive. At eight, they were rather less than. "We have to keep our stories straight." She sounded like she was reading off a card. "Otherwise they won't believe us."
Macha grunted. "They won't believe you anyway. He won't have any proof, and they already think you're making things up."
Amelia bristled. "But I'll have support."
"They're adults," Macha pointed out. "They don't care if we have support or not. We're children."
Rory nodded solemnly.
Amelia glowered darkly at Macha. "What do you suggest then?"
"I don't think you should talk about it." Macha looked down, away from Amelia. "Let the adults forget."
Plopping down on the floor, Amelia grunted. "He is real."
Macha rolled her eyes, flipping curly black hair out of her face. Adopted and black, she would have been the talk of Leadworth by those alone, but she was far more notorious for being a kleptomaniac and getting in trouble with all her teachers. "I know. But your aunt'll just send you to more shrinks if you keep talking about him."
"Haven't been to one in a month," Amelia muttered.
"Only 'cause you bit the last three!" Macha shouted, sitting up. "Look, Amelia, they're going to put you away if you keep talking about it."
Amelia pouted. "That only happens in stories."
Rory looked seriously at Amelia. "Men in blue boxes who eat bananas in your kitchen only happens in stories. Doesn't mean it can't happen to you too."
"So jus' talk to you then?" Amelia asked, looking at the other two. For the first time, she sounded scared.
Macha nodded decisively. "You're safest that way."
Rory looked hopefully at Amelia. "But you can always talk to us. I like your stories."
Beginning to smile, Amelia stood and reached for a battered cardboard box. "So what're we playing?"
"What did she say about him?" The man looked down at the girl.
The girl fidgeted. "Father, she's just telling stories again."
"This is important. What did she say about him?"
"Tall, skinny, sticky uppy hair, suit with stripes on it," she rattled off. "Brown suit, blue stripes. She said he had blood on one cheek."
"Good start, but that's just his appearance. What did she say about him?"
"She – she liked him. Said he was… charming. Like a movie star. But sad. Or – she didn't put it this way, but how she talked about him, it was like he could be charming, but now he was sad."
"And?"
"Look, what do you care? He's imaginary, even I can see that. And if Rory and Amelia cannot, then that's their problem."
"You are more intelligent than other children your age, but that doesn't make you more intelligent than me," the man said, smirking. "I have my reasons. What else?"
"He didn't want to stay. He didn't want to help her. But she asked him to, and he did."
"Same as always then. What else?"
"He liked bananas."
"I'm thrilled to hear it," he told her dryly.
The girl wrinkled her nose. "He knew about the crack and said he couldn't help her now but said he'd be back in five minutes. Amelia's very upset about that."
"More than likely, he forgot. Always was his style."
"But he's imaginary. Just another of Amelia's stupid stories."
"He's not," the man said with a hint of a smile. "He's as real as you or I."
"How can he be? He fell out of the sky in a box."
"And? I've certainly done worse." The man's lips twisted, as if he was thinking of what worse he had done.
"Like what?"
"They're not suitable for your ears."
"You say that a lot."
"It covers a lot of my past."
"You told me you spent a lot of time down south."
"In Wales," the man told her disparagingly.
"You said London last time."
"It was a lot of time."
"And what's it about Wales that's so bad?"
He smirked. "I'll tell you when you're older."
"How much older?"
"When you're an adult."
"Father, that's ages away."
"Precisely. Now, what else about the skinny man who fell out of the sky?"
"He called his box a TARDIS." She pronounced the word correctly.
"And?" The man looked bored, inspecting his fingernails.
"Not his TARDIS. Amelia was clear on that. He said he stole it."
"If there is anything you want to tell me that I don't already know, do it now."
"I thought you'd be interested in that."
"And I would be, if I didn't already know that he'd stolen that particular TARDIS."
"You seem to know a lot about him."
"I should. We spent a while together, once." He sobered, returning his full attention to the girl.
"And?"
"Macha, stop dancing around the subject," he snapped. "What else did she say about him?"
"He said he'd be her friend."
There was a long pause. "We're leaving. Pack your bags, we move out tomorrow. Tonight, if we can."
"Father!" the girl exclaimed.
"It's not safe here, not if he's coming back."
"You already knew he said he'd come back!"
"I knew he'd said it, I did not know he meant it. He cares for his friends. If he told her he would return, then one day, he will do so." There was something dark and bitter in the man's eyes.
"But not today!"
"No, but someday. The sooner we leave, the more time our trail has to grow cold."
"Why are you afraid of him?"
"I am not afraid. The last time we met, some words were said. I'm not ready to confront him again."
"Does he know you're here?"
There was another pause. "You are far too clever for your own good," the man said finally.
"Father, does he?"
"No. He does not. With luck, he never will. You have a point though."
"So we can stay?"
"Yes. Only until he returns, though. No longer."
"Thank you!" The girl hugged him, head coming up to his chest.
"You are very welcome," the man told her head, looking slightly uncomfortable. "I want you to settle though. Stop getting in trouble with your teachers."
"But they're stupid," she said disparagingly.
"I know, but if we are to avoid his notice, we must be normal."
"Fine."
"Good girl."
The girl pulled away slightly. "Can I ask you a question?"
"Can I stop you?"
"Father."
"Go ahead," he said, smiling.
"What's his name? The man, in the box. What's he called?"
"He didn't tell her?" Surprise was writ over his face. "He's always very proud of it. He's called the Doctor."
"Oh." The girl looked down. "He told Amelia his name's John Smith, but I didn't believe her because that's just a fake name, everyone knows that."
"It's the name he likes to use, when he's pretending to be undercover. I'm surprised, however, that he felt the need to use it here."
"Why do you think he did it?"
"It's probably some new form of self-flagellation."
"What?" She returned her eyes to him, confused.
"When you're older. Now. Have you had tea yet?"
