It's staring at me. The Visitor has sat up straight and is now staring at me, unblinking and a little unnerving.

"Well?" I say, "Go on then. Proof of life, let's be having you, quickly -quickly."

Jessica's head drops sidewards, watching me closely. And she touches her throat and clears it like it's sore. The eyes drift away, and I realize she has no idea why she's doing this. "Jessica?" She recognizes the words on my lips and waits for me to go on. "That's you? That's just plain, normal, everyday Jessica, isn't it?"

She hasn't got a clue what I'm talking about. Which is a yes.

"Visitor!" I call. Outside in the hallway, there is a groan, which I unfortunately recognize. So I change the cry to 'River' and run to the hatch.

Something that sounds like "Juzzamin't" comes back. Either it's being muffled by the wall, or River is talking in her sleep. There's a series of thunks and thuds as she heaves herself up from the ground, along the wall, and rolls to the hatch. When she slams it back, she hangs in the gap. Her eyelids hang heavy, and her grin is open-mouthed and sleepy. "Ah! Hello, sweetie!" she slurs, and grabs me by the dressing gown, pulls me in to kiss me, but she's drugged and it's not pleasant. And it's not right either. Compared to usual, I mean.

Too late, I realize what's happening and push the Visitor away.

It groans, reels backward, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry, it takes a while to adjust… Yeah, it's me. Only it's River. She's alive, and all full of oxytocin and in a kissy kind of mood…"

"You didn't lie about chlorinol-oxytocin."

"Nope," it giggles, then reaches out to grab me again, "Oh, God, come here! It'll shut her up!"

"No!"

So it reaches through and grabs me by force. By the throat this time. River's really very strong, and the Visitor seems to be enjoying that. Mutters something about this one having good fingers on it. "Then direct me to your kitchen, you infuriating little man!"

"No! You're not going anywhere!"

"If you won't kiss her I need some other access to her endorphins, like caffeine, or sugar. I am going to your kitchen. Try and stop me."

"You're only in one body. Where are the other two?"

It rolls River's eyes and disappears out of the frame. I waste the second it's away being surprised how compatible their personalities are, how the Visitor is really pulling off River's look, until it stands up again. This time with Amy hanging unconscious over one arm. It passes me Amy's hand through the hatch so I can check her pulse. Then repeats it all with Rory and a little more difficulty, stamps River's foot and demands, "Kitchen!"

"Down the hall, on the left-"

"Thank you!"

"-And don't be long. And bring me a Jammie Dodger."

Teasing, simpering, halfway down the hall, "Oh, darling! Are they your favourite?"

And I can't lie about a Jammie Dodger so I tell it, yes.

"Good to know."

While I'm kicking myself for that one, a small, cool hand taps my shoulder. Jessica. I'm not sure how long she's been standing behind me, but she's holding the notepad again. Next to where the Visitor wrote down the last rule, she has added, 'Jessica not has been writing it.'

"I can't explain to you now, there isn't time. Very quickly, Jessica, while she's gone, I need you to think very carefully." Behind two long, tangled wings of hair, her brow furrows and she nods. Looking, oddly enough, at my feet. Not because she's been staring so recently, but of course because she is still wary of my looking her in the face. No time now to comfort her. I check her eyes are lifted to me and ask her, "The people you used to work for, Owner, and the Tall People, do they have anyone who can…"

How to explain the idea of 'possession' to a girl with no words. But the notepad catches my eye. She's holding it to her chest like a child. Those few phrases she has, she clings to.

"Anyone who could take over and be Jessica, or take over and be me, or anybody. In their head."

I'm not doing a very good job at this. Or I don't think so anyway. Jessica's little face is blanker than ever.

However, the moment I stop worrying about how I'm going to put this across to her, I notice that her lower lip is trembling. In a sudden flurry, she puts the notepad against the wall and scrawls in a panic, "It am being River?"

"Right now, yes."

And Jessica gestures, placing one open palm to the base of her raw, scratchy throat. 'Am being Jessica?' I hear it, clear as live music, every word.

"It was. It might again."

Jessica paces. Away from me, which is very frustrating, when I would very much like just one straight and full answer out of somebody today. I don't think that's very much to ask. Should it come down to it, I will not go to bed disappointed. No indeed. Should it come down to it, I may very well turn to Pond and ask her if she is in fact a woman. Now, do not think me a fool, I know full well there will be questions, and offence, and repercussions, to such a question. There may even be argument and cold-shouldering, and all kinds of not fun things. But by God, I will get a yes-or-no out of somebody this day. Jessica is still pacing.

Then she stops and sits down very hard next to the coffee table, and writes down Rule Five. Not for me, though, for her own reference; she writes it down and stares at it for a time while she formulates a plan.

That's good. Having a plan, that's good. You know what would be wonder-super-wonderful? If she would share it with me.

Rule Five, by the way, is the rather terrifyingly phrased, 'Though it kills them, they will live again. It must kill them dead in both their hearts.'

You will not blame me, then, for flinching, when she gets up and charges right up close to me. You may blame me slightly for closing my eyes. If Jessica was going to kill me, she would have done it before now. I keep telling myself now. Because it's true, of course. But I do keep telling myself that. Over and over again, and then I can sleep, but that's another story altogether.

No, she doesn't kill me. She just grabs the belt from my dressing gown, which is rather forward of her, and I do get a bit worried when she starts tying one end around her left wrist, but it doesn't take long to see what she's getting at. She puts the back of each hand against the opposite side of her neck, criss-cross. Throws the belt around the back to the right arm. Then backs up to me to have herself secured this way. Good and tight.

Because with her hands tucked up like that, she can't grow stakes. Should the Visitor return to her body and decide it doesn't want to be friends with me anymore, it'll have to kick me to death. Which I don't put past it, and especially not with control of that little frame, but it's a smaller risk.

With Jessica's back to me, I can tell her that I'm flattered she cares so much about my wellbeing, that she would have herself trussed up this way to protect me. And also that I'm sorry I didn't think of this when I had her chained to that table that time. That, however, hurts a little too much, so I stop, and just refuse to tie the hand.

Yes, that's right. I, in my infinite capacity and bravery, turn down Jessica's most admirable generosity. Because I need those stakes to get myself out of here, and I have no desire to see the dear girl, Little Ghost or no, stab herself doubly through the neck.

I told you we were making progress, she and I.

When I take her by the arms and turn her back to me, Jessica panics. She picks up the belt again, trying to demonstrate what it was she wanted. I tell her I understood and go on that all I want from her is the name of the Visitor. Her head tilts on the word 'name'. It's not the first time either.

"What is its designation, Jessica?"

She writes, 'Soul.'

"Did Owner tell you that?"

She nods. Behind me, through a mouthful of something, River's voice picks up, "Do you want me to confirm who you think Owner is?"

Jessica slips away to the very far side of the couch and crouches. Not hiding. She knows she's been seen and there's no point in that. It's just that she seeks comfort, and small, warm little crevices seem to her to be safe and comfortable spaces.

"Would I have to ask for that? As a question?"

"Is that a question?"

"Then no. And by the way, you've already had an extra one out of me, and where's my Jammie Dodger?" She passes me two through the hatch. River herself, or rather the Visitor, is eating a chocolate cupcake in great greedy bites. All for the endorphins, she said. To get over or around River's deep and fiery desire for me. I think it sees me thinking this, because its expression turns hard and merciless, or as much so as it possibly can with cupcake puffing out its cheeks.

"You want to ask her what she sees in you? I'll give you a free one while I'm in here, since I raided your cupboards and all."

I wish it would rephrase that, you know. Nonetheless, I'm not blind to what really is a stellar opportunity. One question to ask of one's wife, to be answered in putatively complete honesty. A pure nugget of information extracted by an outsider claiming utter neutrality. A straight answer.

There are a great number of straight answers I would like from River.

But not like this.

"No, my dear Soul, I think we can call it quits."

It grins, lifts an eyebrow. Then stops, to touch that eyebrow and check that it really has lifted. "I've always wanted a body that could do this… Who told you my name was Soul?" It pushes River's head through the hatch and peers around at Jessica, watching over the arm of the couch. "Was it you, princess? Naughty little grass, what would your Owner say? Giving away all our secrets. What else has she told you, Doctor?"

"Get out of my wife."

Not strictly an answer to its question, but rather an expressionist interpretation of how the question made me feel, and an abstract-slash-futurist comment on the performance piece which follows, in which I very swiftly wrap the belt recovered from Jessica twice around River's neck and pull it tight.

Not River, you understand. Strangling River is just a necessary means to an end, and it pains me more than I can tell you.

But within moments, I can hear Jessica being picked up off the floor behind me, being dusted off and crowing, "Cheap trick, Twoheart." I loosen the belt twice as quickly as I put it on, check River's breathing, then lower her gently as I can back out through the hatch. Which is now, at least, open. "Seriously. Your own wife. You know she expects it of you? It'd break your heart if you let it, being in her head. I mean, her and I both know what you're going to put her through and me, personally? I would not still be here-"

"I wish you weren't…"

"-Actually, that's a lie, I would have killed you and stolen the Tardis by now. You would not still be here, is what I mean."

This, of course, is all lies. All manipulation. All games. Still, I can't really think of anything to say to shut it up. Which leaves it free to finish.

"It's you and her and this one I'm sitting in. One big inevitable tragedy going exactly to plan…"

If I ask it what it means, I'm asking it a question. Which means it gets to ask me one. I don't know how many more it needs to ask before it can leave, and I'm not finished with it yet. So there's no point in wasting my finite chances on lies and slander, is there?

That's all it is. Lies and slander.

That's all.