"I had a dream about him, when I was seven. We had only just moved here, and I was really scared of this crack in my wall. A box fell out the sky and he fell out of the box and helped with the crack and promised to take me away, and, I don't know, I guess I just didn't want to let him go. So I started making up stories, with drawings and dolls and things. I always knew he wasn't real, but sometimes . . . sometimes it seemed like he was more real than anything."

"And he called himself the Doctor?" The real Doctor had gone very still, his eyes never wavering from Mrs. Williams face as she spoke.

"Yeah."

"The box, the one he fell out of, what did it look like?" There was an odd intensity to the Doctor's questions, an almost feverish sheen to his eyes. Liam could feel himself tensing reflexively and hear Dr. Adams shifting behind him.

"It was . . . blue. Said 'Police' on it. And it had a light on top."

"And –" The Doctor hesitated, conviction fading, his next question softer, like he wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer. "What did he look like? Your imaginary friend?"

"Funny," said Mrs. Williams, smiling, her eyes going distant. "I used to call him the Raggedy Doctor, because his clothes were all torn up and didn't fit him right. Except . . ." She trailed off, and when she started up again it was with less nostalgia and more fear. "I've started dreaming about him again."

The kettle began to whistle, and they all jumped. Mrs. Williams moved to turn it off, but the Doctor beat her to it. He was suddenly right in front of her, his hand on the kettle, his eyes on hers.

"Tell me."

"Amy?"

The Doctor gave a growl of frustration as Liam turned to see the source of the interruption. It was an average, unremarkable sort of man, looking bewildered as he stared at them all.

"Hello, Rory," Mrs. Williams greeted.

"What –? Oh my god," said the man – presumably Mr. Williams – stepping forward and pointing at the Doctor. "That's – that's that mysterious Torchwood bloke; Rose Tyler's husband. That's Dr. John Smith."

"Yep, that's me," said the Doctor, with a smile which didn't even attempt to reach his eyes and had the end result of making him look a bit mad. "Hello."

"What – what is Dr. John Smith doing in our kitchen?" Mr. Williams asked his wife, a little frantically.

"Investigating," she hissed, and then elbowed him. "Stop staring and make the tea."

"Right," said Mr. Williams, still looking hopelessly lost. "Yes. Tea. Um. Nice to meet you," he added, giving them all an awkward wave. Liam returned it, giving him an apologetic smile, but didn't think it wise to speak when the Doctor was practically vibrating with tension.

"Your dreams, Amy," he said impatiently.

"Well, they started a while after the wedding," said Mrs. Williams, looking slightly startled by his forcefulness. "It's only every once in a while, but it's always sort of in sequence, like a TV programme or something. The Doctor came back, twelve years late. Then he left again, and came back, and . . . and he took me away. Just like he said he would. He was dressed different, looked like a kid in his grandfather's clothes, with braces and a tweed jacket and this stupid bowtie . . ."

She had a fond smile on her face and warm affection in her voice. If Liam had no other information, he would have said that she was speaking not about a dream but about her best friend.

"Took you away in his TARDIS," said the Doctor, and he wasn't asking anymore. "Took you out into time and space and showed you the stars."

"How do you know that?" asked Mrs. Williams sharply, the spell broken, her gaze suddenly hard and angry. "You can't know that! They're dreams; that's all. They've got to be."

"And why's that?"

"Because . . . because they don't make any sense!" she burst out. "There's a box that's also a spaceship and it's big and small at the same time and Rory dies and isn't dead the Doctor is young and old and funny and scary and always cheerful and sad all the time and – how can any of that be real?"

"Amy Williams." The Doctor grinned suddenly, wide and toothy and just a touch manic. "Let's go see about that crack in your wall."

He spun on his heel and dashed from the room, leaving everyone else to scurry after him with varying degrees of confusion, leaving the tea things abandoned.

"What does the crack in my wall have to do with anything?" Mrs. Williams demanded, running up the stairs behind him. "It's not even there anymore; we fixed it ages ago."

"You fixed the wall," said the Doctor distractedly. He had come to a halt at the top of the stairs, eyes slightly unfocused, head cocked as if listening for something. "The crack isn't in the wall." He got a fix on whatever he was looking for, turned, and slowly pushed open a nearby door. "Ah. There you are."

Liam frowned. From what he could see, the room was mind-numbingly normal, dimly lit and stacked with dusty cardboard boxes. The walls were painted pink and adorned with flower decals.

"Doctor, what do you mean, 'the crack isn't in the wall'?" he questioned.

"The crack is in the fabric of time and space," said the Doctor, moving into the room with more caution than Liam had ever seen from him. "Feel that? There's a draft. But where from?" He began to dig through his pockets.

"You talk like him," said Mrs. Williams, eyes wide and face white. Her husband tried to lay a comforting hand on her arm, but she shook him off, stepping forward and pointing an accusing finger at the Doctor. "You – you talk like him and you call yourself the Doctor and you know all these things about my dreams."

"Oh, well, you know –" the Doctor began, still focused on his pockets, obviously stalling until he could think of a way to brush her off. Mrs. Williams didn't give him the chance.

The redhead surged forward, seized the Doctor by his lapels, and shoved him against the wall. Her husband gave an alarmed 'Amy!', Dr. Adams let out a startled oath, and Liam twitched compulsively towards his gun before he restrained himself, registering that the Doctor looked more surprised than anything.

"Who are you?" Mrs. Williams demanded fiercely.

"I'm the Doctor."

"Not my Doctor," she stated, shaking her head.

"No," he agreed. "Not your Doctor. But I was, once. Or rather, he was me. It's a long story."

She released him and back up a few steps, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Then you'd better start talking."

The Doctor sighed, shucking off his coat and tossing it to Liam, who barely caught it in time.

"Find the multi-dimensional scanner for me, will you? Now, Amy, here's what you have to understand: there is more than one Universe. There are innumerable worlds, all stacked up next to each other, and some of them have parallel Earths, with parallel Leadworths and parallel Amy Williamses. Follow me so far?"

"I – I think so. Is that what you are?" she asked. "A parallel Doctor? Am I dreaming about an alternate Universe?"

"No," said the Doctor firmly. "I mean, yes, you are dreaming about an alternate Universe, but I'm not a parallel Doctor. The Doctor is a Time Lord, and there are no parallel Time Lords. There's just him, and, well . . . me."

"You're an alien?" Mrs. Williams questioned, somewhat disbelievingly, while her husband made a choking sound. Liam had yet to hear anything which actually surprised him. Technically, the fact that the Doctor wasn't entirely human was supposed to be confidential, but people talked.

'Time Lord' was kind of a ridiculous title, though. No wonder he didn't brag about it.

"Yes. Well, no. Partially. I'm . . ." The Doctor twitched a little, refusing to meet anyone's eyes. "I'm his clone. His part-human clone. And that does not leave this room!"

Now Liam was surprised. The Doctor was so legendary, so much larger than life, it seemed impossible that he was anything but the one and only. Now he was saying that there was another him somewhere – not just another him, but the original him.

Liam was shaken from his thoughts when his hand brushed something uncomfortably organic. He grimaced, and sank his arm further into the pocket of the Doctor's coat.

"If you're his clone, how come you don't look like him?" Mrs. Williams challenged.

"Because he's regenerated. He used to look like me, but he changed his face – changed everything – in order to heal himself when he was dying. Long story," the Doctor said, cutting off Mrs. Williams as she opened her mouth again. "The point is, I . . . came into existence in that Universe, but he left me in this one – because you can't have two of me running around; creates all sorts of problems. I have all his memories up until the point where I was created; that's how I know about the TARDIS and such, and that's how I know that your dreams are not just dreams."

"Why did he make you?" asked Mr. Williams, and then hastily backtracked at the Doctor's look. "Not that he shouldn't have, or anything; I mean, you seem like a perfectly . . . real . . . I'm going to shut up now."

"Might be a good idea, yeah."

"Doctor." Liam had finally managed to find something which looked like it could probably function as a multi-dimensional scanner.

"Right, thank you, Liam," said the Doctor, snatching it from his hand and spinning towards the wall. "I'll be able to use this to get a few preliminary readings . . ."

"Is your wife from the other Universe?" asked Mrs. Williams suddenly.

"Yep."

"So, the other Doctor – the first one; my Doctor – he knew her."

"Yep."

"Did he love her?"

The Doctor tensed, his back going rigid and what little Liam could see of his face going stormy.

"Don't," was all he said, but that one word was enough to send shivers up Liam's spine.

"But if he loved her –"

"Mrs. Williams." It was Dr. Adams who cut her off, stepping forward with a tight smile. "Your son has been outside by himself for quite a while; don't you think you ought to check him?"

Mrs. Williams hesitated, her eyes flickering between the two doctors.

"I'll come with you," said Dr. Adams, his tone broking no argument as he moved so as to force her towards the door. "I could use the fresh air."

"Alright, fine," Mrs. Williams huffed. "Don't go knocking any holes in my house!" she added to the Doctor, who gave her a wave of acknowledgment without looking up. Her husband hovered uncertainly for a moment before chasing after her.

Liam was left alone with the Doctor, the gently buzzing scanner, and his thoughts.

No matter what story of the Doctor's origins one ascribed to, they all had one thing in common: the Doctor loved Rose Tyler, enough to give anything and everything up for her. If what Mrs. Williams questions had been getting at was true – and the Doctor's reaction suggested that it was – then the original him had loved her just as much. So why would he send her to another Universe?

Unless . . .

Unless he loved her enough to give her up.

"Stop it."

Liam jumped at the sharp command.

"Stop what?" he questioned, bewildered.

"Speculating."

"How did you –?"

"To be frank, you're really, really obvious about it. Next time, try not to stare at the back of my head quite so intently."

"Sorry."

They fell into silence again – but only for a few moments, and then it was broken by the slightly nervous voice of Mr. Williams.

"They're, um, right in there."

"Thanks."

The answering voice was female and vaguely familiar, and its effect on the Doctor was palpable. He straightened up and spun around, the dark cloud which had descended on him evaporating, his eyes alight with anticipation. Then Rose Tyler stepped into the room, and he grinned. Liam thought it might have been the first real grin he saw from him – or the realest one, anyway. It was something about the eyes.

"Rose!" the Doctor exclaimed, his voice filled with delight. Agent Tyler grinned back, her tongue caught between her teeth, and in an instant they had closed the space between them.

Liam suddenly became very interested in his wristwatch.

"I thought you weren't getting back until tomorrow," the Doctor said, once they finally broke apart.

"Well it was going to be a surprise, but then Jake called and said you'd run off to Leadworth, of all places. Hello, by the way," said Agent Tyler, turning to Liam before the Doctor could respond. "Rose Tyler."

"Yes, ma'am," said Liam. "Uh, I mean, I'm Liam. Liam Price." He flushed a little in embarrassment, but she just smiled warmly.

"Nice to meet you in person, Liam," she said, before turning back to the Doctor. "What are you doing here, anyway? Actually, what's Dr. Adams doing here? You can't just drag him around with you everywhere, you know; he's not your pet."

"I get lonely when you're away!" the Doctor defended.

"You've got Liam, haven't you?"

"Dr. Adams gets lonely when I'm away," the Doctor modified. "He just pines away and dies."

"What, like a gerbil?"

"Exactly," he replied solemnly. She shook her head in exasperation, but there was amusement in her eyes.

"'Course he does," she said, and then turned serious. "What's all this about, then? You find whatever's causing all those people not to exist?"

"I think so, yep. One of them, anyway. As soon as this finishes – ah." The scanner beeped where he had left it on the ground, and he scooped it up, squinting at the display. "Alright," he said at last. "There's good news and bad news. Good news is, I was right. Bad news is, I was right.

"This is very, very Not Good."