XI

Martha wandered to her left and leaned on the railing, looking out upon the Amstel River. She exhaled heavily through pursed lips, and turned back to the Doctor.

"The entire city of Amsterdam is in the TARDIS?"

"Well, not exactly, and not at first. I lived here, thought I could settle in and become a scientist or something, you know… help Earth's scientific developments along. Without getting too involved, of course."

"Of course."

He pointed to a door to his right. "I lived in that house, there. The magic gave me everything – a laboratory inside, the furniture I wanted, a name and identity, friends, a position in the community… even a wife and son."

"Wow."

" But every day when I looked outside, the TARDIS was still sitting here. Right about where we're standing. As long as that kept happening, that meant that truth had not manifested. If I was meant to be a trouble-shooting Time Lord, then the magic would have taken me out of this altogether and put me back in my old life. But as long as I was living in Amsterdam and the TARDIS was still here, it meant that this was still artificial, that the 'old me' hadn't gone yet, this world wasn't real, hadn't absorbed me."

"I see."

"One day, I couldn't take it anymore. I couldn't take the artificial existence any longer – and frankly, standing still began to drive me mad. I loved my artificial wife and my artificial son, and if it was meant to be, it was meant to be. But if not – and once I finished feeling sorry for myself, I knew it was not – then I had to be myself. And myself is… well…" he pointed to himself.

"I'm glad of that."

"Me too. Now," he said. "But remember how I told you that the magic isn't confined to a particular time or place?"

"Yeah," she said, pretty sure she knew what he would say next.

"Well, that means that it can be manipulated… anchored. But it is only possible to anchor it within a space which itself oscillates in time and space…"

"Which is the TARDIS."

"Exactly. The TARDIS and I found a way to confine my fantasy to one room. So now, instead of the TARDIS existing in my artificial world, the artificial world exists in my TARDIS. I couldn't go off and just travel from where we were because it wasn't real. It had to be confined if I wanted to get my old life back. Someday, when the truth manifests, this world will probably go away. I know what the truth is – I don't need a Lewogue icon to tell me."

"How long has this been here?"

"I'm not sure," he said, thinking. "Not quite a century, but close. Every now and then, I come back and check to see if it's still here."

"But what about your wife and son?"

"They are suspended and confined as well," he said. "They won't even miss me because they're not real either. If I'm not here, then this world just stops. And… well, I've regenerated since then, so I couldn't even go back to them now. They wouldn't recognise me. Or maybe they would – it is a fantasy, after all…"

"Don't you miss them?" she asked. "You said you loved them."

"I do," he said. "But it's part of the fantasy. I only miss them when I'm in it. When I'm here. Going about my normal life… I remember them, but that's all."

"Well then, we'd better leave," she said, taking his hand in both of hers. "You feel it now. You feel the loss."

"I do."

He pointed the sonic at the flagstone wall, and it yielded to them. They stepped through the opening, and found themselves back in the pentagonal room, covered with knick-knacks. Then the wall closed up behind them, and it was as if the Amsterdam room never existed.

The Doctor turned, and very pointedly, faced another wall. Martha did the same. They both sighed once again.

"Do you know what's coming?" he asked.

"I think so."

"Living in a fantasy can be a dangerous thing, Martha," he said. "And when I woke up this morning and looked at you, watched you sleep, I loved you. And I suspected that the magic was still working – though I suppose it could have been possible that I love you, and that's the truth."

"But not likely," she said, almost inaudibly, not looking at him.

"Well, I didn't know. And I was not going to let you live in a world that you desired, but that could disappear any day, with no warning."

She nodded, but could not speak. She thought she would have been strong enough for that if it meant the possibility of having a life of love and adventure with the Doctor. But the Doctor was usually right, so she did not argue.

"Amsterdam represents what was once my great desire, so that's what the TARDIS swallowed," he said. "Your great desire?"

He looked at her with an are you ready for this? expression, and pointed the sonic at the wall they were currently facing. When it gave way, they stepped through. Martha looked about and saw a seating area strewn with books and maps, mechanical devices in various states of disrepair. A wardrobe stood open beyond, containing what seemed to be an endless supply of suits and shirts and ties, beside a shoe tree adorned with Converse trainers in varying colous. A huge bed loomed, beautifully made, to the left, but pieces of discarded pinstriped suit lay across it, and what looked like the cotton pyjamas he'd worn in hospital when they'd first met.

"Your bedroom," she said.

"Yes," he said. He placed his hand nervously on the back of his neck. "And I have to say… I knew, obviously, that it might be something like this, but I didn't see this coming. The TARDIS took my bedroom and moved it here. Which presents a problem, because, well, it's my bedroom. I sleep here."

"And when you're in here…"

"…I love you."

"You love me." She didn't make eye contact.

"And I want… well, you know what I want…"

"Because I want it too."

"Exactly."

"And outside?"

"You're my best friend."

"And that's all."

"Yes," he conceded.

"What about in that stone room?"

"There's a residual effect in there, because that room is composed of Lewogue magic," he said. "It's like a computer terminal and the two rooms are plugged in. So, I feel it in the stone room, sort of…"

"But in here, you get it at full force?"

"Yes."

"You love me?"

"Yes."

"Right here, right now?"

"Desperately," he said, his brow furrowing with raw emotion.

"I'm sorry, Doctor," she said.

"No need to be," he said. "It's not your fault."

"Will you feel that way once you're outside this room? That it's not my fault, I mean?"

"Yes," he said. "I'm not in love with you out there, but I'm still the same man with the same brain. I know what happened, and you are not to blame."

"Whoa," she said, looking for something to sit on. She spotted an armchair near the door and backed up to it, drifting into a seated position to contemplate this new turn of events.

There is a room in which the Doctor loves me. One room in the entire universe where he wants me like I want him. And it's his bedroom. He dresses here, does his most private thinking here. He sleeps in that bed, and moves and dreams and who knows what else…

He'll try to keep me away from here, and I'll try to keep myself away. But when he lies here, he'll dream of me, he'll wish I could be beside him, or under him or wrapped around him, and I'll wish it too. And I'll know. And he'll know.

I could sneak in here in the middle of the night, any time I want…

Oh, dear.

This room is dangerous – it's like Pandora's box. It's worse than that…

Her voice rung out and bounced off the walls in this most sacred of places. It was just a cry, an inarticulate outburst of frustration. "This is… this is… I don't even have word for it! It's like a dream wrapped inside a nightmare! What am I supposed to do with this information, Doctor?" she asked, pleading.

"I don't know," he answered, kneeling on the floor in front of her. "I don't even know what I'm supposed to do with it. I know what I want to do with it…" He took her hands and kissed them all over, each individual finger, knuckle, her wrist, her palms.

"I know what I want to do with it, too."

"I never want to leave this room again," he said, working his way up her arm.

"Oh, but you will."