Yay, last part of Human Nature! And, holy cats, over 800 reviews! Thank you so much! The reviews, the PMs, the fanart, the insane amount of follows and favorites...honestly, I cannot express how grateful I am for all the positive feedback, and even those moments of constructive criticism that have led to some extremely interesting conversations. Seriously, you guys make my day. I know I probably sound really redundant, but you guys never fail to completely bowl me over with the sheer volume of your response. So thank you.

With that slightly gushing Author's Note...allons-y!

John paced his study unhappily, the latest argument with Marion running through his mind. She had once again taken it into her head to be as obstinate and contrary as possible, infuriating him beyond measure, and in front of his superior, no less. She had absolutely no right to call him to task in front of his students or his Headmaster, and he couldn't simply let her actions stand. He pushed away the nagging feeling that she'd had a point, focusing on the total lack of respect she'd shown for him and his position. Apparently, what they'd shared had not diminished her absolutely exasperating level of tenacity regarding her opinions.

He pulled the ring out of his pocket and stared at it moodily. He'd been altogether too hasty in his pursuit of Miss Lewis. It had been days, maybe a week, since he'd even begun to believe—or, at the very least, admit—that he wanted anything to do with her. This morning had shown quite efficiently how incredibly ludicrous it was to believe that anything would work between them long term.

He toyed with the ring as he remembered the smile she'd given him when she had accepted his invitation to the dance, the way her eyes had lit up as she watched him point out the constellations, the faint blush that had crept to her cheeks when he kissed her. The thought that she'd had a valid point about the whole affair worked its way back into his mind, and while he still believe wholeheartedly that she had handled the situation in the worst way possible…if she had let her feelings for him dampen her spirit at all, then she would lose something essential to her being, and would no longer be the woman he'd fallen so completely in love with. Because, he realized, regardless of rationale or hastiness or disagreements…he was still determined to make her his wife.

His eyes narrowed when he glanced out the window to see Marion walking off the grounds toward town. Brooding would get him nowhere, he realized, and he dropped the ring back into his pocket, barely pausing to grab his coat and hat as he hurried to the door. Getting angry was one thing. Staying angry, however, was something he simply would not allow any longer.

oOoOo

"Miss Lewis!" John called, and Marion grimaced. Arguments and surnames. Apparently they'd reverted just a bit. She wasn't wholly prepared yet to deal with the ramifications of this, so she decided to go with an artful and quite mature plan of feigning temporary deafness. John, however, completely refused to accept this, touching her arm gently as he caught up with her. "Miss Lewis," he repeated.

"Yes, Mister Smith?" she asked cooly.

"You're angry," he noted.

"You were going to allow a boy to beaten by his classmates," Marion said, stopping to stare at him.

"And you completely humiliated me in front of my superior and undermined my authority with my students," he said with a frown.

"I really don't think you needed any help with that," she said, turning and moving away again.

"And yet you saw fit to give whatever aid you could," he said in an accusing tone as he followed after her.

"I'd go to much farther lengths than simply questioning your authority if it meant keeping that boy from bodily harm," she said. "Your ego, on the other hand, could withstand a few blows."

"And your opinions could do well to learn that there's a time and a place," he retorted. He stopped, making a frustrated sound and running a hand over his face. "Marion, stop."

"I didn't realize we were still on a first name basis," she said, arching an eyebrow, but stopped and turned to him.

"My feelings for you don't vanish just because you manage to annoy me," he said, arching an eyebrow of his own. "Otherwise I'd never have gotten over my irritation in the first place. Am I alone in that?" She stayed silent, avoiding his gaze, but he nodded. "I didn't think so. But Marion, you cannot put me in that position in front of the Headmaster or my students. God knows I'll never be able to stop you from pummeling my ego with your opinions in private, but you put me in a terrible situation. Even you must see that."

"If I hadn't stepped in—" she started stubbornly, but he cut her off quickly.

"Then Timothy would have suffered," he said gently. "I understand your reasoning. I just don't agree with the way you handled it. There were any number of ways that you could have made your point known without endangering my standing with those present, not the least of which was to simply tell the boys to wait and then ask to speak to me privately."

She watched him for a moment, stubborn pride warring with the rationality of his argument. "I'm sorry I put you in an uncomfortable spot, John," she said finally, managing to sound only slightly begrudging.

"And I'm truly sorry that I disappointed you, Marion," he said softly. "You were right to step in."

"Did you just say I was right about something?" she asked, a small smile coming to her lips.

"It's not completely unheard of," he said, his own lips twitching in response.

Marion sighed and turned as they both began walking again. "Do you think we'll ever stop vexing each other?"

"Absolutely not," he said. "How uninteresting life would be if we suddenly became agreeable individuals." He smiled when she laughed, then sobered, studying her profile. "You don't approve of military discipline of this school, do you?" he asked as they wandered through the town.

"I don't," she admitted. "I think the world would be much better off if more men were taught to use their minds and words to solve problems rather than chaos and bloodshed."

"I'll admit mankind doesn't need warfare and bloodshed to prove itself," he said slowly. "Everyday life can provide honor and valor. But Great Britain's at peace, long may it reign. Let's hope that from now on this, this country can... can find its heroes in smaller places..." She looked at him curiously when he trailed off, looking distracted. "In the most...ordinary of...of deeds..."

He turned suddenly, snatching a cricket ball from a young boy and pitching it with startling force and accuracy at a bundle of scaffolding poles resting against a building. They fell, hitting a plank of wood and sending a brick lying on the end flying into the air over a piano hung by a quickly fraying rope. The brick collided with a milk churn, making it fall into the path of a woman pushing a pram, halting her progress...just before the piano fell exactly where she would have been standing had her progress not been impeded. Marion's jaw dropped, and she turned to stare at John, who was looking at the scene with his own measure of stunned amazement as the baby in the pram started crying.

"Lucky..." he said after a moment, watching in bemusement as two workers hurried over to the woman.

"That was luck?" Marion asked in disbelief, looking back at the scene.

"Marion, I'm in love with you," John said suddenly, turning to her. Her head whipped around to stare at him. "Marry me."

"What?" she asked, shocked.

"Marry me," he said again, annunciating the words slowly.

Marion stared at him, completely at a loss. He'd just saved the lives of a woman and her infant with a cricket ball, and now appeared to be proposing as if it was the same as asking her to lunch. "You extraordinary man," she said, dazed.

"Careful, Miss Lewis," he cautioned with a smirk. "You are dangerously close to inflating my already sizeable ego."

"Can't have that," she murmured.

"You also haven't answered me," he reminded her, stepping closer.

"You can't be serious," she said.

"Oh, I assure you, I'm quite serious," he said, dark eyes intense as he lifted a hand to grasp her jaw tenderly. "Marion Lewis, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"

Of course not, she thought quickly. We've known each other all of two months, and a majority of that time was spent absolutely detesting each other's very existence. We only barely managed to salvage a friendship a few days ago, it would be complete madness to agree to marry you now.

But even while all these sensible thoughts flew through her mind, some deeper part of her rebelled, somehow completely sure of him regardless of any clear rationality.

"Yes," she said softly, and his face split into a brilliant grin just before his lips swooped down to capture hers, completely ignoring the presence of anyone else.

oOoOo

"You're completely mad," Marion said as they wandered slowly along the lane in the direction of the school. "You are aware of that, right?"

"I'm aware of the possibility, yes," John said with a smile. "Perhaps my imaginary adventurer and I have something in common after all."

"The one with the roving eye?" she asked with a smirk. "And a girl in every fireplace?"

"Did Nurse Redfern tell you that?" he asked, and she paused, momentarily confused.

"She must have," she said vaguely.

"Mmm...well, I can assure you, that is not me," he said.

"Says the man who just proposed after spending the better part of two months hating me," she said with an arched brow.

John was quiet for a moment, looking thoughtful. "That scarecrow's all askew," he noted suddenly, apropos to nothing.

"And we certainly can't have that," Marion said with a laugh as he made his way toward the offending object.

"Of course not," he said, focused for a moment on his task. "I never hated you," he said quietly after a moment, still looking at the scarecrow. "I just had no idea what to make of you. Once I gave up that effort, it wasn't such a stretch to fall in love with you." He looked up at her, dark eyes shining with warmth and sincerity, as well as a touch of vulnerability that melted her heart.

"Say it again," she said, her eyes wide, and his face softened.

"I love you, Marion Lewis."

He chuckled when she beamed at him. "I love you, John Smith," she replied after a moment.

"Quite right, too," he said with a smirk, then stepped back from the scarecrow examining it critically. "I think my work here is done."

"A masterpiece," she agreed with a smile.

He grinned down at her as he took her hand, pulling her back to the lane. "Come on. I have something to show you."

They made their way back to the school, and John led Marion to his study, taking her coat and hanging it up with his before moving to the windows and closing the curtains.

"John…what are you doing?" she asked uncertainly.

"Worried?" he asked, throwing a wicked grin over his shoulder at her.

"Should I be?" she asked.

"No," he assured her. "I promise you, your honor is in no danger from me. But I would ask that you close your eyes."

"Why?"

"Just do it," he said with an exasperated sigh. She gave a small laugh and shook her head a little before doing as he asked. She heard him move around the room, doing something at his desk before he came closer to stand behind her. "Open," he said softly near her ear.

She opened her eyes and gasped at the sight of what seemed to be a whole galaxy of stars dotting the fabric of his curtains.

"Magic lantern," John said as she glanced down at the box on his desk. "Uses the light of a kerosene lamp to project the image from a glass plate onto a surface. And this," he continued, gesturing to the image currently shown against his curtains, "is from a hand painted glass slide based on a daguerreotype of the northern night sky."

"It's beautiful," she breathed.

"Mmm," he said, nodding, before looking down at her. "Nearly as beautiful as...as my fiancé." She looked up at him with a smile. "Oh, that reminds me," he added, his hand fumbling in his pocket for a moment. "This is for you."

He took her hand and slipped a simple silver band adorned with three small sapphires onto her ring finger. His thumb brushed lightly over the back of her hand before he brought it up to kiss her ring finger lightly. His other hand came up to caress her cheek before he leaned down to kiss her tenderly, dropping her hand as he reached around her to touch the small of her back and pulled her closer. He sprang away, however, when the door rattled and Martha burst in.

"Martha, what have I told you about entering unannounced?" John snapped in irritation at the maid, who scurried out again after a shocked look. "I'm sorry," he said quickly to Marion.

"It's alright," she replied. "I should really be going anyway. I have a dance to get ready for after all."

"Yes...suppose I do too," he said reluctantly, and she laughed before leaning up to kiss his cheek.

"Oh, I'll bring your 'Journal of Impossible Things' as well," she said. "Joan—Nurse Redfern left it with me."

"Did you read it?" he asked curiously.

"No," she said. "You're quite impossible enough without trying to understand your dreams as well."

She grinned as the sound of his laughter followed her down the hall.

oOoOo

"She was wearing a ring," Martha said, pacing the console room. "They were kissing and she was wearing a ring. Where'd he even get a ring?" The TARDIS hummed uncertainly at her. "The Doctor's going go completely spare if they get married! What am I supposed to do?" Again, the monitor flashed to life next to her. "This wasn't on the list!"

The ship apparently ignored this, as the recording began to fast-forward on its own.

"Four, you," the recording said. "Don't let me abandon you."

"That's no good. What about the stuff you didn't tell me, what about bloody marriage?" she snapped at the recording. "Oh no, you didn't think of that. What in hell am I supposed to do then?"

"Five," the recording said, then paused as his eyes flicked away, a look of pain crossing his face. "Five, don't let me hurt her. It wouldn't be the first time, but don't let it happen again. We can't...you know why we're...but listen, if it's not her, it can't be anyone. Don't let me go chasing after someone else just because I don't remember her."

Martha rolled her eyes up to the ceiling. "Alright, so at least it's not someone else. But he's still not going to be happy."

"And six, don't let me eat a pear," the recording went on forcefully. "I hate pears—"

"I hope you have a pear flavored wedding cake," Martha said viciously, and heard the staccato buzz that always made her think of a chuckle. She sighed heavily. "I suppose we'll just have to hope it takes more than a month to plan the wedding, eh?" The ship hummed encouragingly at her. "Seriously, though...this is going on the list. They're going to owe me so huge when they come back."

Martha made her way back to the school, feeling marginally better after her talk with the TARDIS, but still moving on automatic through the afternoon as she stewed about her friends. If it had been a simple case of commitment-phobia, then she might actually think this turn of events was a good thing. But it was never that simple with the Doctor. He was genuinely terrified of losing Rose one day to her own bitterness, of her leaving him because of regrets and resentments that she didn't have but he still tortured himself over. She had a feeling that if they came back after the human him had managed to marry Rose and make her happy, her friend would spin a little more out of control, and given what she'd seen him do when he was in control, she really didn't want to think of what he'd manage if he lost it.

The one bright spot of the afternoon came when Cook let her take Mister Poole's unwanted tea, which was always...lavish, enough so that she could share it with Jenny. It'd be a treat for both of them, and she was looking forward to a conversation with a friend who had all her memories and could actually talk.

"There you are!" Martha said when Jenny finally entered the room. "Come and look what I've got. Mr Poole didn't want his afternoon tea so cook said I could have it. And there's enough for two." She looked up from setting up the tray to see Jenny still standing in the doorway with her coat on. "What are you standing there for? Are you alright?" she added in concern when Jenny sniffed loudly.

"I must have a cold coming on," Jenny said as she moved to sit at the small table with Martha, coat and hat still on.

"Problem is," Martha said with a sigh, "I keep thinking about them but I don't know what to do."

"Thinking about who?" Jenny asked.

"Mister Smith and Miss Lewis," she said. "They're engaged now, apparently, but I don't know if they'll still be happy about that when we leave in a month."

"Why are you leaving?" Jenny asked.

"It's like…their contracts are coming to an end," she said vaguely. "And being together after that...I dunno, it might be…difficult."

"Leave for where?" the other maid asked curiously.

"All sorts of places," Martha said, unable to keep the longing from her voice as she thought about some of the different places she'd already been with the Doctor and Rose. "I wish I could tell you Jenny, but it's complicated."

"In what way?" Jenny asked.

"I just can't," Martha said, shaking her head.

"It sounds so interesting," Jenny said sharply, her voice taking on an odd inflection that Martha hadn't noticed until now. "Tell me. Tell me now."

"Would you like some tea?" Martha asked slowly, frowning.

"Yes thanks," Jenny said with a smile pasted on her face that didn't reach her eyes, which continued to look cold.

"I could put a nice bit of gravy in the pot," Martha suggested, watching her friend carefully with growing dread. "And some mutton. Or sardines and jam, how about that?"

"I like the sound of that," Jenny said.

"Right," she said calmly, clamping down on her growing panic. "Hold on a tick."

She got up slowly and stepped out of the room, limiting herself to a walking pace in the corridor so as not to alert whatever had taken over Jenny before tearing off down the stairs. She kept running until she was out of the school, ducking when all too familiar green laser fire shot out at her from the window. She had to find the Doctor, now. As much as she hated to do it to John and Marion, it was time to open the watches.

oOoOo

"You look…stunning," John said as Marion twirled for him in her navy dress before setting his journal on his desk.

"You look rather dashing yourself," she said, stepping closer to straighten his bow tie. "You'd best give me some warning—um, can you actually dance?"

"Um…I'm not certain…" he said, his eyes unfocusing slightly as he brought his hands up to her waist.

"The great John Smith, unsure of something?" she teased with a smile.

"Oh, Miss Lewis," he sighed, looking down at her. "You've created a great number of uncertainties for me. There is one thing I'm absolutely sure of, however."

"Is there?" she asked, her breath hitching slightly as his gaze became heated.

"Oh yes," he said softly before leaning down to kiss her. Once again, however, he sprang away when Martha burst into the door.

"They've found us," she said quickly before either of them had a chance to speak.

"Martha, I've warned you," he growled in frustration.

"They've found us," Martha said again, ignoring him, obviously frightened. "And I've seen them—they look like people, like us, like normal. I'm sorry, but you've got to open the watch." She moved quickly to the mantelpiece, searching it. "Where are they?" she asked, shuffling through knick knacks. "Oh my god, where've they gone? Where are the watches?"

"What are you talking about?" John demanded impatiently.

"You had two watches," she said, pointing to the mantelpiece. "Two fob watches, gold and silver. Right there!"

"Did I?" John asked, confused. "I don't remember."

"Martha, what is this about?" Marion asked, concerned for the obviously panicking maid.

"We need them," she moaned. "Oh my god…Doctor we're hiding from aliens, and they've got Jenny and they've…possessed her or copied her or something and you've got to tell me, where are the watches?"

"Oh I see..." he said softly. "Cultural differences," he added aside to Marion, who stared at Martha in complete shock as John picked up the journal and tried to explain that they were stories.

Doctor. The man who looked like John Smith...but was so much more...but they were just dreams. The man didn't actually exist.

"Oh you complete...THIS is not you," Martha was saying, waving at John impatiently. "THIS is nineteen thirteen."

"Good," John said encouragingly, if a bit patronizingly. "This is nineteen thirteen."

"I've sorry," Martha said, eyeing him. "I'm really sorry but I've got to snap you out of this."

With that, she brought her hand back and slapped John hard across the face, making him reel back and springing Marion out of her confused stupor for a moment.

"Martha!" she cried, reaching for John.

"Wake up!" the maid shouted. "You're coming back to the TARDIS with me!"

"How dare you!" John yelled, pulling his hands back as she grabbed at them and tried to pull him away, grasping her arm instead and pulling her to the door. "I'm not going anywhere with an insane servant! Martha, you are dismissed, you will leave these premises immediately. Now get out!" He pushed her out of the door none too gently, slamming it behind her before turning back to Marion. "Nerve of it, absolute cheek! Marion?"

She was watching him with wide eyes, still trying to sort through her confusion. The maid had called him the Doctor. His stories, his journal, was about the Doctor, but he was just a dream. Her dream. How could he possibly have known?

"Marion, darling," John said softly, stepping closer and bringing a hand up to her cheek as he looked down at her, eyes full of concern. "I'm sorry she's upset you. She's obviously confused, delusional...it's just a story."

"I…" She trailed off, looking up at him. Of course it was just a story. Just because they'd both invented someone called the Doctor didn't mean at all that he was the same person. Obviously just a quirk of imagination. That was the only logical explanation. "Let's…let's just go," she said softly, pushing away the confusion and smiling up at him. "We have a dance to go to."

John looked down at her for another moment, searching her face, then nodded. "Right you are, Miss Lewis," he said, pulling on his coat before helping her with her wrap. "Let's put all thoughts of insane servants and imaginary men out of our minds and enjoy the evening."

oOoOo

Martha raced out of the school, barely pausing when she nearly knocked over Tim Latimer, and ran to the TARDIS. The watches were gone, he'd told her to leave them both with him, that he'd think nothing of them, and now they were gone and the Family was here and she was completely at a loss for how to snap either of them out of it. As soon as she stepped into the TARDIS, however, she noticed the Doctor's coat on the coral strut he'd thrown it onto when they'd first dove into the ship on that blue planet. She searched through the impossibly large pockets until her questing fingers wrapped around a familiar shape, smiling triumphantly when she pulled out the sonic screwdriver. If there was one thing the Doctor was attached to besides the ship and Rose, it was this. If she couldn't get Marion to listen, to help her, then maybe this would do it.

She ran back through the village, heading for the dance. She thought quickly as she made her way to the village hall, trying to work out exactly how she was going to get John to listen to her this time while he was still furious over what had happened at the school. Ignoring the doorman trying to direct her to the servants entrance, she made her way inside and scanned the group, relieved when she saw Marion sitting alone and John waiting in a line. Maybe if she could get to Marion alone, she'd help reason with John.

"What is it you want, Martha?" Marion asked, eyeing her warily as she sat down.

"Your help," Martha said. "Because you're the only one who can. You've seen him, haven't you? In your dreams? The man who looks like John Smith, but isn't. You've seen the Doctor."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Marion said, looking away quickly.

"Yes, you do," she said. The Doctor would be furious if anyone found out who Marion was before he came back, but she was quickly running out of options. "You know all the stories in that journal of his. Because they're your stories too. The Doctor and Rose Tyler, in the TARDIS. The Time Lord and the Bad Wolf, the only ones in the whole universe. Please, Miss Lewis. Tell him. If there's anyone he'll believe, it's you."

"They're just stories," Marion whispered.

"Legends," Martha said. "And they're you."

"Oh, now really, Martha," John said as he returned to the table looking incredibly displeased. "This is getting out of hand. I must insist that you leave."

"Miss Lewis?" Martha asked, looking at the librarian hopefully, but John cut her off.

"Leave her out of this," he said quickly. "I am not about to let you suck my fiancé into your delusions."

"I'm sorry for this," Martha said, looking between them as she stood up and took out the sonic screwdriver. "Do you know what this is?" she asked, holding it up for him to see. "Name it. Go on, name it."

"John?" Marion asked, her eyes flitting from one to the other as he slowly took the sonic from Martha and turned it over in his hands.

"You're not John Smith," Martha said. "You're called the Doctor. The man in your journal, he's real. He's you."

She stared up at him for a moment, willing him to believe her and understand, but whirled around when there was a crash behind her.

"There will be silence!" thundered a man she recognized from the village, Mister Clarke. She highly doubted, as Jenny and the student, Baines, followed him in, that it was Mister Clarke any longer. "All of you! I said silence!"

"Mister Clarke!" a man said. "What's going on?"

Mister Clarke turned and fired a gun at the man, vaporizing him instantly.

"Mister Smith," Martha said urgently, snatching the sonic screwdriver back. "Everything I told you, just forget it! Don't say anything."

"We asked for silence!" shouted Baines as Martha bowed her head, hiding away the sonic screwdriver. "Now then. We have a few questions for Mister Smith."

"No, better than that," a little girl said as she joined Baines and Mister Clarke. "The teacher," she said. "He's the Doctor. And the librarian is the Bad Wolf. I heard them talking."

"You took human form," Baines said.

"Of course I'm human, I was born human!" John said in confusion. "As were you, Baines. And Jenny, and you, Mister Clarke! What is going on, this is madness!"

"And human brains, too! Simple, thick and dull," Baines said.

"They're no good to us like this," Jenny said.

"Easily remedied," Baines said, raising his gun and aiming it at John. "Change back."

"I don't know what you're talking about," John said desperately, but moving slightly to put himself between Baines and Marion.

"Change back!" Baines repeated.

"I literally do not know—"

Jenny—or whatever was possessing Jenny—struck out, grabbing Martha while her attention was focused on John, pressing the gun to her head.

Martha screamed in startled fear and anger, "GET OFF ME!" She closed her eyes, trying to stay calm as her hands tried to keep Jenny from tightening her arm where it was already a near choke-hold.

Jenny shot a psychotic, calculating look at John, "She's your friend, isn't she? Doesn't this scare you enough to change back?"

John was frantic, "I don't know what you mean!" There was a hint of desperate pleading to his words.

"Husband of Mine," Jenny said, not looking away from John. "The Bad Wolf is no use human, and the Time Lord is so much more…desirable. Perhaps the maid isn't a strong enough bargaining chip," she added, nodding at Marion.

Mr. Clark reached out and grabbed Marion's arm in an iron grip, "Let's have you!" He pulled her close, raising a gun to her head. Marion's expression was stony, and while John still looked terrified, Martha recognized the dangerous glint that had entered his eye.

"Have you enjoyed it, Doctor?" Baines taunted, his speech oddly clipped and stilted. "Being human? Has it taught you wonderful things, are you better, richer, wiser? Then let's see you answer this. Which one of them do you want us to kill? Maid or librarian? The Bad Wolf, or the guardian? Your friend…or your lover? Your choice."