Chapter LXXVII

Martha's POV

"Oh, welcome back then," she was greeted by Mira as she followed the Doctor into the TARDIS and closed the door behind her.

It didn't sound particularly unfriendly, but the other woman was definitely surprised that she was back now. She looked over to the Doctor, who was rubbing his eye, before he jumped forwards so suddenly he almost gave her a start and pressed some buttons.

"So, well then, off we go," he said, and she couldn't help herself but thinking that both of them hadn't really talked about her staying.

But then again, it was his ship after all, wasn't it? And he had invited her to stay, and not just as a passenger this time. Then she remembered something.

"Uhm, are we flying again already? Guess I could need some more clothes," she said.

The Doctor stopped in his tracks for a moment, looked at her in a way that made er blush, then said, "Why? What's wrong with that dress?"

"Nothing," she said, "But it's not really warm or anything so..."

"Ah, don't worry, we'll find something here. Guess you're room's still there, so I'd have a look in the wardrobes there."

Okay, fine, she thought, hopefully she would also find some underwear to change. Maybe she could even find some medicine books in the library? Using the time she won by being on this ship to study, even though that almost felt like cheating. Would she age faster now because she spent time here that didn't pass for her friends? And, back to clothing, how was laundry working on this ship? The last time, after they had crawled through the sewers in the 1920s, she had found her clothes washed and fresh on the bed after she had stepped out of the shower. Was it always working like that? And who had done it? Robots? She really liked to ask, but she knew that she had already asked a lot – so probably that had to wait for later. There was something else anyway she wanted to know, something about Lazarus.

"I still don't understand where that thing came from. Lazarus, I mean. Was it alien?" she asked, leaning her back against the handrails.

"No," the Doctor said and looked up from the console, "For once it's strictly human in origin."

"Human? How can it be human?"

"Mira was right. She said it in the laboratory," he replied. "Most likely from dormant genes in Lazarus's DNA. The energy field in this device must have reactivated them. And it looks like they became dominant."

"So it actually was a throwback," she said, being glad that evolution had taken a different turn after all.

"Some option that evolution rejected for you millions of years ago," the Doctor confirmed her thoughts, "But the potential is still there. Locked away in your genes, forgotten about until Lazarus unlocked it by mistake."

"Oh well, glad then we evolve into something like that," she murmured.

There was something else on her mind. She hadn't forgotten the conversation between the Doctor, Mira and Lazarus. Well, Mira, for being human – at least she stated to be human – most like had just acted, telling Lazarus something to convince him to stop, but how old was the Doctor really? Was it impolite to ask him? Just asking, oh, and, by the way, how old can your people get? No, certainly not like that, for he was the last, and she didn't want to throw in his face that there were no 'people' any more, but only him. But how old was he then? She had no idea, maybe hundred or two-hundred years?

But maybe there was another take on finding it out.

"Mira, so, you said you've seen people fighting over immortality. So there are immortal beings where you are from? I mean, if you don't mind me asking."

Mira, who was sitting on the jump-seat, looked up, seemingly surprised.

"Well, yeah. Oh..." she rubbed her face with her hands and sighed. "It's a long story, really. But yes, there are some. And not because of a device like Lazarus had built, but because of something else..." She stopped and looked at her, as if she wanted to figure out if she was really interested.

She nodded at her, and so Mira continued, "There's this entity. It. Essentially It is the mental, psychic essence of a whole species, which gave up their physical form ages ago. At some point, quite a while ago, It scattered about twenty-five of some small pendants all over the galaxy, letting everyone know how to find them – they were emitting a distinct pulse - and what they are. Basically they constantly regenerate the cells in whoever wears them, preventing them from ageing. I guess you can imagine what happened then." She looked up at her, and she had the nasty feeling she was just reading every last of her emotions. Then she continued, "We managed to secure quite a few of those things for the Solar Empire, but some fell in the hands of other people. As said, it didn't went too well for their companions, and even they themselves often got murdered out of greed at some point."

She tried to imagine it, and even succeeded to a degree, but she couldn't really get her head around how it would be to live forever. And if she would have searched for one of those things or not. Then her eyes fell on the pendant Mira was wearing. It showed under the high neckline of her dress, and she had asked herself earlier why she hadn't taken it off, when it was showing in such a way, not matching to the dress at all.

"So, you're working for the Solar Empire then?" she asked, not daring to ask for the pendant she was wearing.

Out of the corner of her eye she noticed that even the Doctor had stopped rushing around the console, and was watching them now. Did he know? Sure, if they had been together.

"I was," she said sadly. "But it's gone now. It fell apart, as it goes over time. But there's something else now, so humanity is still alive and well in my universe." She smiled at her melancholy and a weird, old look in her eyes. "Yes Martha, I'm older than I look. Much older," she answered her unspoken question.

"How much?" she asked before she could stop herself. Oh hell, so much for being polite and diplomatic. "Sorry," she hurried to add. "So you did find one of these pendants for yourself?"

"No," Mira replied, ignoring her first question. "There were three ones different from the others. The others can be worn by anyone. But these three were calibrated to a specific, five dimensional radiation anyone's cells are emitting. It's a bit like a fingerprint. It had happened ages ago, long before I was even born. But those who did it are existing somehow outside the universe and time, so it's no surprise they knew about us long before I was born, any of us three was born. Anyway, one was for my father, one for Atlan, an old friend of humanity, and yeah, well, one is mine."

She looked at Mira as she had finished, her head spinning. It sounded like something straight out of a Sci-fi movie, and normally she would have never believed it. But here, inside the TARDIS, after what she had seen the last days, yes. At least she didn't discard it right away as being utterly delusional. Still, it almost was too fantastic, and it seemed to make Mira a pretty important person if she had been chosen – oh, how that sounded – by some weird people living outside the universe? What was 'outside the universe' supposed to mean?

"Okay," she finally said, "I guess it was really enough for today, at least for me – I think I get changed and... well. Sleep a bit maybe."

"You know where you're room is?" Mira asked.

"Yeah, remembered the way when we walked there last time," she replied and left, almost fled, the console room.


Mira's POV

She was sitting on a chair in her room, a book in her hand. Eliot, all his poems. She had picked it in the library, after she had forced herself to eat something, taken a shower and changed clothes, but she was absolutely lacking focus for reading it. She had tried to, just as she had tried to find some sleep, but her mind was still racing. There was so much to be sorted out, and only little which was within her control. And of those few things she was quite afraid.

Then it knocked at the door, making her almost jump out of the chair. Before she could say anything, the door opened and the Doctor popped in his head, quickly followed by the rest of his body. Of course, who else could it be. At least he had bothered to knock at all, if not waiting for an answer, as Martha would have.

"Am I interrupting you?" he asked, standing in the open door.

"Uh, well, not-"

"Oh, you're reading Eliot?" he asked and came a few steps closer, closing the door behind him.

"I'm trying to, yes."

"Just wanted to check if you're all right," he said, tugging at his earlobe.

He had changed back into his brown suite, she noticed.

"I'm fine, thanks..."

"Well, okay then..."

They looked at each other for a moment. Why was he really here? Just to check on her? Or did he want something else? He wasn't here to talk, was he? That so wouldn't be him. But she, on the other hand, had to talk. She didn't want to, really not, but she knew she had to, at some point.

"So I leave you to your book then," he said, but didn't move.

She nodded at him, and finally he turned around and started walking towards the door.

Fine.

She put the book on the small coffee table next to her and said, "Wait."

He turned on his heels as if he had waited for that, but the expression on his face looked just the opposite. Quite uncomfortable, actually.

"We have to talk," she said and stood up.

"Do we?" he asked, all innocent again, as she was still thinking about how to begin.

"Do we?" she repeated his question. "I think so, yes. Maybe you don't, but I definitely do."

She knew, if she wouldn't do it now, then she would never do it. And it was best to end it now, before it could lead to even more chaos and pain.

"Well, I-" he started, but she interrupted him.

Not this time. He wouldn't get away that easy this time. And neither would she.

"It's about us," she said, deciding to head straight to the point. No use in circling around the topic. "I know, when we first met, we kinda- We make this promise," she hurried to add, before either he would interrupt her, or she would louse her courage. "That we would only be friends. Companions. And, don't get me wrong, I've not forgotten it. I still stick to it, in fact, but-"

"Mira-"

"No, listen. Let me finish. I know it was fun, and I can only speak for me now, because, when it comes to you, I'm still completely lost. I have no idea what's going on in your head. And that's the problem. All these.. Games, and I don't know if it's flirting, and the kissing..." Well, she knew, it was her kissing him, at least the second time, "I can't live like this any more. If I would only know what it is for you, then maybe I could, but I just don't know. So, maybe-"

"Mira, please-"

"No, really, listen! If I don't say this now, I probably never will, so please, all I ask for is: Could you just say it again? What you said back then? Friends, companions, nothing more? I just need to hear it once more, then I promise, I-"

Suddenly she stopped. It was the look in his eyes, the expression on his face, telling her it was all heading into the completely wrong direction.

"What?" she asked quietly and quite breathless. Her heart was beating so loud that probably even another human could hear it, not to speak of him and is dammed good hearing. She had her arms crossed to hide the shaking of her hands; not very successfully though.

"What I wanted to say, Mira," he started again, his hands in his pockets, his dark eyes locked with hers, "Do we need to talk?"

It took er a moment to understand his question. First she had thought he had meant it quite literally, meaning everything was still as it had been, there was nothing more from his side, and there was really no need to talk about it for him. But, as she studied the look on his face, it dawned on her that maybe this wasn't the case. There was a strange kind of sadness in his eyes, but somehow she felt it was not only related to what she had just said. And then, how he had emphasised the word talk – No. No way. But yet – he still looked at her, as if he was waiting for an answer, for her to say, to do something, and once more she had the feeling to see a glimpse of the real him. A glimpse of what he was normally hiding when dealing with humans.


Doctor's POV

He had really only wanted to check on her, because, after all that had happened with Lazarus, he was worried. And then Martha outright questioning her, even though she certainly had only been curious. He hadn't expected that she would come clear like that, but then again, it was so her. Just thinking about things and then putting it on the table, from one moment to the next. Even more so in the restless, driven state she was in.

And yes, he was done with these games as well. Not that he didn't like it; he had just never thought that something like this would happen to him ever again. The last person who had challenged him like Mira had been Romana. And even though they never had been together in a way humans meant when saying that, there had been a deep friendship between them, and yes, he had even loved her in his very own way.

And now he was standing here and observing Mira's reaction to what he had just said. He didn't even know if she had understood him, and even less could he explain why he had asked it. Well, it had popped up in his mind several times by now, but normally he would never asked such a thing. Not a human anyway. But as said, he was a bit tired as well. Not in a bad way, all those little games between them weren't getting old or boring, but just as her, he could no longer live like this. It had been hard enough to sort out his own feelings, but without knowing where he stood with her, he had reached a dead end. And, to make things worse, somehow it was all Mira's doing. It had started when she had confronted him time and time again with Rose and how he was dealing – or, better, not dealing – with her and her expectations. He would have never started to really, actually think about things like that, his relationship to the people around him. Of course, he had been aware of it, more or less, but he had put it aside, waited for the others to act, and when there had been someone like Rose, he had just ignored it, tried to keep them at arm's length.

And now he had actually asked – even though not really in the most direct way - if they could do again what they were doing when Mickey had so rudely interrupted them, back in the console room, when she had hugged him after he had found out that Reinette had died whilst waiting for him. He just wanted to see her, as he was used to see someone with his own people. And in return he wanted her to see him. He was fairly certain she would be able to; she had almost gotten in his mind once, after he had removed the barrier around her psychic senses in Pete's world. He had very well noticed it, and her way of being able to mimic other psychic abilities was even more incredible and fascinating to him than her emphatic talent.

But now he wasn't even certain she had understood him. And he certainly wouldn't get more specific. And even if she knew what he wanted, she most likely wouldn't agree. Why would she? And then he could just leave, and all would be back to where they had been, just as she had asked. Not that he wanted that, but probably it was for the best.

She remained silent, just looking at him. Something about the look on her face told him she most likely had gotten him, and yet she didn't agree - at least it didn't seem as if she was about to say something. His hearts suddenly sank, a wave of – rather unexpected – disappointment rushing over him. He had really hoped for some reply, any reply, at the same time wondering when he had gotten involved like that, but fine. Fair enough. At least in this way neither of them would lose their face.

Just as he was about to turn around and head for the door, he noticed something. A change in the room, an change in the atmosphere between them, a change so subtle, he had almost missed it. Something was suddenly missing, and replaced by a certain kind of tension between them. Then it stroke him. Her psychic barriers had been up all the time, pretty much every day - even though they both knew quite well that they most likely wouldn't stop him. Most likely it was just her way of telling him to keep his distance, mentally spoken. Now they were gone. He was absolutely certain she had had them up a moment ago.

Now he was completely surprised as well as a bit lost. Quite lost actually. He had somehow hoped for this reaction, but he hadn't expected it, not for the life of him. Even more so after what she had just said. And she was so incredibly nervous, had been so all the time since she had said they had to talk. He could hear her heart beating fast, and she was shaking with nerves. But she held his gaze, and there was, despite her nervousness, a sudden determination in her eyes.

He started to walk slowly towards her, expecting that she would back away any moment, but she didn't. She was still looking right in his eyes, and now, even though he hadn't touched her yet, he could feel she had understood him and wanted it as well, despite her being so nervous that he would have loved nothing better than to just hug her.

Then, as he stood more than one foot away from her, he slowly lifted his hands, his eyes still locked with hers. They hadn't spoken a single word all the while, and he still feared she would just stop him at the last moment. But she didn't. She had even given up her slightly defensive posture with her arms crossed, and was instead nestling with the long sleeves of her dress.

He gently placed his fingertips on her temple, after brushing aside a strand of her long, silky hair.

Then he closed his eyes. The first thing he could feel was how she holding her breath – mentally speaking – as if to brace herself. He suddenly remembered how she had told him on Skaro he shouldn't 'yell' like that. Or was it her remembering it and him just reading it? Didn't matter now. He remembered very well to keep it down and not to overwhelm her with his presence. No, there was no need to rush anything. The connection between them would deepen on its own, slowly as their minds would connect with each other.

He could feel how she started to relax with him not rushing all over her but lightly and gently touching her mind with his.

It was not that he could see everything about her mind, her personality at once, as the connection deepened. It was slowly unfolding, layer by layer, separating into what she was feeling right now at this very moment, and the more constant parts of her, the parts which made up her personality, her character, what had formed her over the centuries of her lifetime. And it was truly amazing. He had had a glimpse of the strength that was lying within her, but it had been only that, a glimpse. Now he really had the time to take it in. There was still the feeling of blue to it, like a deep, blue ocean, like a stream of water, powerful, able to overcome any obstacle, to erode the strongest rock over time, but at the same time it had the destructive and crushing force of a wild river, a strong current, ready to carry one with it, pulling one beneath the surface with no way of escaping.

He could feel how torn she was, how many contradictions were laying within her. He could feel her loneliness, a loneliness born out of being different than the others, even back then when she had still been mortal. And then, as he got deeper into her mind, he could see, underneath all these contradictions and darkness, a great wisdom, born out of the countless years she had lived and also of a deep knowledge of herself, with all her faults and strengths. There was something else – an all-embracing feeling of peace and serenity. It took him a moment to figure it out, but then he saw it was originating from her way to see the universe. Originating from a deep knowledge of something larger than herself, being and feeling as one with it. A strong trust in destiny and in finding her way, no matter what. He would never have expected her perception of the universe – and of time – being that strong.

She had the gift to somehow find the right path, to figure out what was right and wrong, what was fixed and how it should be, to see how everything was connected, and how to follow it. It was not nearly as clear to her as it was to him - time, that is, and all its different paths and streams - but more on an instinctive, very basic, and subconscious level. Nevertheless, it left him breathless for a moment, as well as sad, because now he understood what she had meant when she had said that this universe was different, shifted from her own. And how she was suffering, being trapped in a strange place that felt weirdly off and wrong. She was trying to keep it down, lock it away, but there it was, overshadowing everything, threatening to extinguish all this bright, peaceful feeling, turning all her strength and determination into something dark and destructive.


Mira's POV

Oh what had she gotten herself into now. She couldn't believe she was actually doing this. But a part of her really wanted this. She had had enough time to back off, as he was slowly walking towards her, and even though she was really worried that it would just knock her out this time – he would just knock her out, for she had had a glimpse of how powerful he was, more than once – she didn't back off. She had braced herself, but then – no, it hadn't knocked her out. Quite the opposite. Slowly his presence had surrounded her, filled her, light as a feather, as soft summer rain on her skin. And even though she could now really feel his psychic strength, there had been no forcefulness to it, it was merely as if he was watching her, observing her, slowly, carefully, until their minds had connected, more or less on their own.

And now his presence was filling her, and even though it was still a one-sided contact, her brain, her weird psychic ability had found a way to mirror what he was doing, leading her towards his mind. It was just like back then, when she had felt as if standing at a threshold, ready to jump, to find a way into his mind. Only back then she hadn't been aware of it until it almost had been too late. But this time she knew what she was doing. It was as if walking towards an incredibly bright light, as if standing on the edge of an abyss, filled with swirling colours, shapes floating into one another, almost like galaxies rotating so fast that all the single stars were getting blurred, flowing together to one single, endless stream. She was drawn towards it, and yet she hesitated. Did he really want her there? Surely, she wouldn't be able to find anything she wasn't supposed to, but-

Come

The word just echoed through her mind. It was actually more than a word, it was an invitation, but something was still holding her back.

Sure?

She formed this question in her mind, where it floated until it got blown away and replaced with his answer.

Yes

Okay, fine. She got even closer to the edge, until there was only one step – figuratively speaking, for there were no steps, no distances, nothing of the outer world in ones mind – away from jumping down into this abyss, from entering his mind. She wouldn't even have to jump, just to lean forward, lean into it, but.. She suddenly was afraid. His mind, his consciousness was so huge, so incredibly alien. All the colours and shapes she could see - she knew she wasn't really seeing them. They were too strange, something she had never seen before, so it was only her brain's way of translating it into something she knew. She feared she would get completely lost. She would lose herself there, never finding herself again, just getting merged with it, with him, and vanish.

Don't be afraid. I'm with you. Trust me.

And she did. She wouldn't if she had just heard him say it. But it was so much more than just words this time. She was still afraid - who wouldn't be in her stead - but after a last moment of gathering herself, she finally did it. She leaned into it, leaped forward, jumped.

And then, there was nothing. She had no idea for how long, apart from the fact that time didn't really exist in this context. And it was not really nothing. But she could feel how she got carried away, spread, dissolved in billion little pieces. Then, seemingly incredibly slow she came back together again, getting her bearings, feeling his presence, which was all around her, and at the same time it was somehow focused to a small, bright spot within all the whirling lights. She drifted towards it, incredibly glad that he really was with her, didn't leave her alone floating about. It was nothing she had ever experienced before. It was overwhelming. There were streams, paths – at least it seemed to her like that – countless, endlessly. At first she had no idea what it was; it didn't seem to be a part of him, but something within his perception. It was absolutely chaotic to her, ever changing.

Then, with a little hint from his side – she would have never figured it out on her own – she realised it was time. That was they way how he could see it. He tried to shut it out most of the times, but still, it was always there. It was so completely different from her own perception, which was more like getting a lucky glimpse every now and then of what was about to come. Sure, she had always been sensitive to it, and even more so changes in it, like time travel, but what she could see in his mind was a whole new dimension.

Then, as she got herself sorted out again, trying to ignore the chaos of time around her, she could made out emotions and thoughts. The first thing she felt – maybe because it was something she knew all to well – was a feeling of great and utter loneliness. A loneliness originating from the feeling of being different – different from the rest of his kind, never feeling quite as if he belonged to them. Just as she herself, he was different. An outsider. A free spirit, pretty much like her, never willing to obey rules, especially not if he didn't see any purpose and reason behind them. His people had never quite understood him, and even though he had made his way, he had always been lonely. Just as she had amongst other humans, knowing they would never fully understand how she was seeing them as being psychic.

Of course, it was not only loneliness that defined him. There were so many emotions, strong emotions, hardly controlled. The oncoming storm, bright as the sun, burning everything that dared come to close. The potential for truly devastating rage and at the same time a kindness she had hardly ever felt in anyone before, that moved her to a point where it was almost painful. Had she wondered not too long ago why he had reached out to the one remaining Dalek, now she knew why.

There was something pure, elemental and deeply honest to all these emotions, and suddenly it all made sense. What the Face of Boe had said to her, about never knowing where to stand with him, and yet trusting him.

The Face of Boe said that?

It was then when she remembered that he knew everything she was thinking right now. But she didn't want to bring that up, not now. For once she didn't want to think about the past or the future. And so they both let those thoughts pass, just as they did with a few others, unimportant ones, crossing their minds, for thinking absolutely nothing was really quite impossible.

Then she noticed something else. It was a somehow familiar presence, but stronger and much clearer than it was in her own mind. Quite different, almost intimate. It took er a few moments to figure it out, but then she new it. It was the TARDIS and his connection to her. Their connection was really symbiotic, and right now the old time ship was humming in almost cheerful content.

As she listened to the TARDIS in his mind, slowly but surely another emotion around her grew stronger, almost forcing itself onto her. She had noticed it before, but she had tried to ignore it, to dismiss it, mostly out of fear – as it was just expressing what she had tried to avoid all the time, tried to end before it could grow into something out of their both control.

But now realisation struck her like a lightening. She had lost herself, just not in the way she had dreaded. Instead of losing herself in his mind, she had lost herself to him. Utterly and completely. She had wanted to set it all back to beginning. But instead she – they – had just crossed a line without any hope of going back.

She wasn't even sure how to put it into words, or if she would ever be able to do so. It was a feeling of warmth, affection, longing and care mixed with disbelieve about his own feelings, about what was just happening; questioning if it was actually happening, and she was sure he could feel something very similar in her own mind.

And she knew that he had felt how she had just almost startled. Slowly but surely she grew more and more aware of her surroundings again. She realised that he was no longer touching her temples, instead she was leaning against him, her hands and her head turned sideways on his chest so she could hear the beating of his hearts, his arms wrapped around her. Their minds were still in contact, just not as close as a moment ago.

She opened her eyes, almost blinded by the dim light in her room, and moved slightly in his arms so she could look up to see his face. He looked down at her, tears glistening in his eyes. She could see the same unspoken question, the same insecurity there which was in her own head. Despite their long lives, it somehow felt like completely new, uncharted territory. Probably even more for him than for her. But now, even though she had seen just how different he was, she didn't feel inferior or intimated. Well, at least not more than she had before, in those moments when he had casually said something about Time Lord technology that had just blown her mind.

Instead, being in his mind had felt strangely safe – safe, secure and comfortable, not nearly as frightening as she had assumed it would be when she had hesitated to go that one last step. In fact, she had never been connected with someone like that before. Sure, she could feel others almost as intensive if she completely focused on them, and she had exchanged thoughts with telepaths, but it had never been so mutual and both-sided on every level before. And, apart from all their differences, they had things in common. They were both just as free spirited, even though she had carefully covered it with layers and layers of reason and rationality over the years. Still, she had no idea where to go from here, and she felt as helpless as she had hardly ever felt.

And it was not until he lifted his hand and let his fingers gently stroke down her cheek that she realised a tear was running down her own face. He softly kissed her forehead before he pulled her to him again, wrapping his arms around her once more. She felt a wave of caressing and comforting feelings coming over her, and it was just then when she realised how mentally and physically exhausted she was.


Doctor's POV

They were lying on her bed, she in his arms – pretty much just like they had back in Elizabethan England. Just, of course, this time Martha was not lying next to him, and certainly no one would get killed, here, inside the TARDIS, making them jump up. He had watched her slowly drifting off into sleep, knowing how exhausted she had been, and not only because of what they had just done. Oh, he would have never expected that something like this would be possible. Certainly not with a human. And now he felt just as lost as she did. He had never, ever, not once, thought about getting so close to someone else again, even more so with his own people gone. He had not a clue about what to do next. Seeing her feelings for him, her reactions to what she had seen inside his mind, had left him dumbfounded, as he had never believed someone could feel like this for him. Understand him in a way like she did. And yet he had no idea what she was expecting now. They couldn't go back to how it had been before, that was all he knew.

And, above all, he couldn't even really enjoy all this or feel happy about it. Instead, he felt like a traitor, once more, for keeping something essential from her. She certainly would turn away in an instant, seeing him for the horrible person he really was, the murderer of his people, even though it had been the only thing to do back then, to save everyone else, the whole of creation.

Really? There was no other way?

He had tried to tell himself that, many, many times, and this one question had haunted him ever since. But even if so, it didn't make it any less horrible. And if he himself could not see it like that, then how could he expect it from anyone else? Even after all the kindness she had somehow seen in him – which had really surprised him, for he had never really seen himself like that – she would just despise him.

He knew that she would never find out if he didn't want her to. But that would mean to constantly betray her; to pretend to be someone he wasn't.


Yeah, finally, the next step ;-) Bit earlier this time because I have a few days off, I hope I didn't disappoint you with this chapter. :-)

OneWhoReadsToMuch, djmegamouth, bored411, NeoMulder: Thanks for reviewing :-)

Type40TARDIS: Yeah, the Doctor and his age, he seems to get quite confused about it. And yes, the Doctor lies. ;-) Seemed always a bit weird to me that he was over 700 years in his fourth regeneration (Don't know where I read that, but I think somewhere on tardisWikia), but then only 900-something in his tenth, with everything that happened in between.