It was very disorienting, finding myself in the very middle of an unfamiliar place. I watched the Doctor walk around and knock on walls for a bit as I got used to my surroundings. "What are you…?"

"Metal," he said. "Metal walls." He began to mutter to himself, and very quickly. I only caught the word "familiar," but mostly it sounded like he was going through a mental list out loud. I followed him as he turned some corners and went up a set of stairs. I knocked on a wall or two, and they sounded like wood to me, but I didn't say anything.

A few more turns, and I spotted a piece of paper by a wall in the hallway.

"Doctor," I whispered, pointing at the paper.

He leaned down and picked it up, opening it. I froze at the words at the top of the page. Next to a white star on a red flag were the words: On board R.M.S. "Titanic". It was dated April 13, 1912.

"We're on the Titanic," I muttered, though the Doctor was already very aware of that fact. "We're on the Titanic."

"I've been on the Titanic before," he said. "A few times, actually. Except one time it was a space ship…." He looked at me and frowned. "We'll have to come up with a new fake name for me. Can't have three other blokes turning around when they hear 'Doctor' or 'Mr. Smith,' now can we?"

"But…" I started, "we're on the Titanic! Shouldn't we get off it, like, now? Or stop it from-"

He gave me a stern look.

"It's a... fixed point in time," I finished lamely.

He was studying the paper as he answered. "Yep. I really need to have a talk with those writers."

I smacked his shoulder. "Who cares about the show? We have to get off this boat!"

He scoffed, "It's hardly a boat, Liza! And besides," he said, glancing down at the note, "It's not due to crash for another day. Might as well have some fun and good food while we're here."

"You're on your last life. If you strand me in the middle of the ocean in 1912, I'll find you in the sixties and end you early!"

His eyebrows drew together. "You'll be-"

"Seventy-three, and don't think that will stop me!"

"Fine, fine. Titanic sinks as planned, both of us get on the TARDIS and back in your own life safely."

"Thank you, Doctor."

"Don't call me that here!" he said. "Call me… Stephen Davis. Wait, no, the name Stephen makes me inexplicably sick to my stomach. Call me Neil Martin."

"Okay, 'Neil,'" I replied, not bothering to mention Stephen was the name of one of the writers that knew so much about his life.

The Doctor took me back into the TARDIS's wardrobe to find something appropriate to wear. I couldn't get my hair up the right way, so I just left it down.

He didn't bother to change, which baffled me.

"Why aren't you changing?" I asked as we left the storeroom that the Tardis was parked in.

"Don't need to."

I stopped walking. "Why not?"

"No one's going to notice. No one ever does." He shrugged.

"That doesn't even make sense," I replied. "Your shirt says 'Schrodinger's cat is dead.' No one even knows who Schrodinger is, let alone how the crud you got his name on your shirt."

"And yet…" He grinned and started walking again.

I sighed and followed him to the deck. I could hear children playing and women chattering before we even got to the top of the stairs.

I kept quiet as we wandered the ship. I didn't want to say anything wrong by mistake; but I almost slapped the Doctor for his introduction.

"…my wife, yes," he said to one of the men. I felt my face flush as the conversation continued.

"I haven't seen you around," the man said.

"Oh, we've hardly left our room since we boarded." He flashed a grin.

I turned away, and when the man was gone, I glared at the Doctor.

"What?" he said, half-laughing.

"I'm going home, 'Neil.' You can investigate why the TARDIS brought us here, but you can leave your 'wife' out of it." I started for the stairs below deck, but he grabbed my arm.

"Aw, come on, Liza. I'm on my last life. Let me have a little fun." He gave me a puppy-dog face.

"Oh, boo-hoo," I snapped. "It's not like you're dying now." I pulled my arm from his grip. "You'll not say any more than 'wife' from now on."

He beamed. I sighed.

The sun was already setting, and everyone was heading below-decks to escape the chill. The Doctor and I stayed out to see if there was anything out of the ordinary. We even climbed up to the bridge only to be shooed away by one of the men working there.

It was getting really late, and the officers patrolling the deck were getting suspicious. We'd been two of a few passengers that stayed out, and all we did was walk around, mostly in silence. The Doctor decided it was about time to do some real investigating.

We found a little nook near one of the smokestacks where the Doctor took out his sonic screwdriver. "This is the false smokestack," he said, scanning the metal panels. "If there's anything up here worth looking into, it's in here." He gently tapped the panel as he spoke.

We heard footsteps approaching and he tucked his screwdriver back into his jacket. "Quick," he whispered, "kiss me."

"What?" I hissed. "No!"

"Why not?" He looked baffled. It seemed he'd never had this problem before.

"I'm sorry, but that's none of your business," I replied.

"Oh," he said, drawing out the syllable. "You haven't… You've not…"

"What of it?" I hissed. The footsteps were slow, but still coming.

"Just come here." He didn't wait for me, only pulled me in and pressed his face into my neck. I gasped in surprise just as one of the officers passed by us; he glanced at us then turned away and kept walking.

I pushed the Doctor off me. "A little warning next time?" I whispered as he pulled his screwdriver back out.

"Nope."

He continued scanning the false smokestack and found nothing. With a sigh, he put his screwdriver away, and the two of us walked back to where the TARDIS was.