Author's Note: First off, sorry for the delay in update. The Doc Manager was being funny and prevented me from updating on Sunday as per usual. This shouldn't affect the next update, though I might bump to Mondays. Second, thanks to all who have reviewed/faved/subscribed to the story so far. Good to know people are reading and liking what they see. I'll do my best not to disappoint, especially with the next few chapters. I'm a little but unsure of them... But anyway, do enjoy!

Chapter Three- Coffee and Conspiracy

Harry (The Master? No, Harry. He was most definitely Harry) sat on the couch, blankets draped around his shoulders, coffee mug cupped in his hands. He tried taking a sip and cringed. Normally he liked coffee, but this stuff was awful. Leah had forgotten to warn him that Jack's coffee tasted like piss, and that drinking it black was tastebud torture. No, he would not be drinking any more of that, but the warmth felt nice against his cold hands.

His surroundings were quite nice as well, all cozy and inviting. Very homey. The couch he sat on was beige and fairly well-worn, but it was comfortable nonetheless. In the corner was a Christmas tree – geniune spruce – that gave the room a pleasant aroma. The mantle of the fireplace against the far wall was decorated with various little trinkets and two stockings. It was all very festive.

Christmas...

Vague memories danced just below his consciousness and he struggled to bring them out from the depths of his mind and into the light. There was something he needed to do in London, and he needed to do it by Christmas Day, but he couldn't recall what. Why couldn't he remember? It was incredibly frustrating. Had he fallen into some awful soap opera and developed a cliche bout of amnesia? He sincerely hoped not. The worst part was that he knew it was something important. There was something so very urgent he needed to do, but he couldn't do it if he had no idea what it was.

The entire situation had a sort of familiarity to it, as though he had done something like this before, or he knew what was going to happen. This Christmas... It was going to be a big one, an important one, and it involved him somehow. It involved him being in London and... saving someone? Some sort of doctor. Weren't doctors the ones who were supposed to be doing the saving? Maybe getting to London would help his memories come back. Did it work like that? He had read somewhere that certain places or people or events could help restore memories and cure amnesia. Or maybe he had just seen that on television...

"What." Leah stared at Jack, eyebrows raised. He had made some pretty crazy claims before, but she was pretty sure this one took the cake. "You mean to tell me that the guy in my living room, the one I dragged in off the streets, is a politician? From England? Who used to run the country?"

"Yes, well, that's not the only thing though."

"Oh, what, he's an evil alien who tried to take over the world by infiltrating parliament?" Leah scoffed. "Why would they bother? Politics is just so... blah."

"Well, yes, actually, but that's not the only thing," Jack insisted. "There's all sorts of rumours on the web about him, people claiming that he had this great big secret. And there were lots of really weird things right after he got elected. And then he died and things got even weirder then."

"Wait. Hold on. Sorry, what?" She couldn't believe what he was saying. Jack had reached all new levels of nutjob now. "So not only is he a politician, but he's also crazy, and evil, and an alien, and back from the dead?" She counted off each point on her fingers as she listed the crazy accusations. "Jack, listen to how crazy that sounds. It could just be a coincidence. There's no way that's the same guy. There's bound to be more than one Harold Saxon in the world."

"No, you don't get it, I've seen pictures. His hair's a little different, but it's the same guy."

"Look," snapped Leah, "I don't wanna hear it! I just saved his life bringing him in from the cold. He's harmless. We can ask if there's anyone to call, and then they can deal with him."

"Oh there's someone we can call alright," Jack said. "The police."

"Right, yeah, because the police are totally going to believe that we've got some evil dead guy stowed away in my living room, ready to be taken into custody."

"So you admit it's the same guy, then?" Jack retorted.

"Of course not!" Leah huffed. "I just don't think the police will believe your story if we call them. Maybe bringing you into this was a mistake. I thought you would know what to do, but I should have known you would spew your weirdness all over." She turned on her heel, ready to storm out of the kitchen.

"Wait!" Jack called. Leah froze, her back still towards him. "OK, sorry. Look, I still want to help. I just think that you should be careful. You did just bring a stranger into your house after all."

Leah sighed but said nothing. Instead she just shot him an exasperated look over her shoulder and walked into the living room. Fortunately Jack had known her long enough to recognize that meant that he could stay, but he was on thin ice. Jack followed Leah back into the living room, resigned. He needed to tread carefully if he was to have any chance at regaining control of the situation.

He supposed the man seemed nice enough, and there was a chance that this was just a huge coincidence, but Jack was always wary of coincidences. More often than not there was more at work than appeared on the surface, and he just hoped that Leah wasn't getting them into anything they couldn't handle. She could be so stupid, unreasonable and stubborn sometimes.

Leah was perched on the stool next to the couch, slipping back into nurse mode easily. "How ya holding up?"

"Alright," came the reply. "I think."

"Right, OK, well you need to rest, but you can't stay here, I'm sorry," Leah told him. If her mom caught him there, the cold would likely be the least of his worries. "Is there someone we can get a hold of? Someone we can contact to look after you?"

He knitted his brows in thought. "Yes..." he muttered.

Leah perked up. "Great! Excellent. Tell me how we can get a hold of them and we can-"

"In London," Harry interrupted.

"Oh."

"And... I'm not sure who he is."

"Oh."

Leah wilted. She didn't want the man to die, having saved him and all, but neither did she want to be responsible for him. What were you supposed to do when you found someone who didn't seem to know who or where they were, and had no identification or anyone to contact? Were there specific protocols for things like this? She supposed that she could call the authorities, any of the authorities, but she wasn't sure what would happen to him in their hands.

It was starting to look like going to England was their only option.

He was staring at her, or at least in her direction, lost in thought and seemingly searching for something. There was a strange quality in his eyes that made her uncomfortable looking at them, as though maybe there was something more to this funny little man but she couldn't quite place it. He seemed so lost and yet so urgent. Maybe Jack was right. Maybe there really was something going on with him. It was unlikely that he was some sort of evil alien madman, but there seemed to be something not quite right and not entirely there.

"Alright," she finally said. "Well, I'm not sure what to tell you. I appreciate your need to get home," she added quickly, before the man could say anything in protest, "but I'm sorry, it's just not that easy. We can't just hop a plane across the pond, especially not right before Christmas. The airports will be nuts and there's no way we can get tickets last minute like that. I can look into booking flights for after Christmas, and in the meantime you can stay with Jack." He raised his eyebrows but said nothing in protest. Leah continued. "You can't stay here, my mom would flip... We'll get you home eventually, but it's going to have to wait until after Christmas."

"That'll be too late," Harry muttered, more to himself than to the others. "No, wait!" he cried suddenly. "I can get us on a plane."

It was Leah's turn to scowl in puzzlement. Meanwhile, the man rooted through his pockets, though they weren't the pockets that Leah had seen before when she had been searching for identification. Apparently the man had hidden pockets. (Hidden pockets that were, in fact, bigger on the inside.)

"Aha!" he exclaimed, pulling out a thin leather wallet. He stared at it curiously, almost not entirely unsure what it was, but there was a triumph in his finding it. Savour the small victories, Leah supposed.

"That'll get us on a plane then?" she asked, apprehension growing. No, she wasn't going to England. That was that. Even if he could get them seats at such short notice, she wasn't leaving.

"Yep!" Harry leapt up off the sofa and grinned, looking more lively than he had all morning. "Well, what are we waiting for?"

He was running. At this point he had been running for a good five minutes down the same stretch of hallway. Why on Gallifrey were the corridors of the Capitol so damned long? He knew exactly where to find the Chameleon Arches, since they would be in the same place as last time. Oh, how so very long ago that was. For him, anyway. He had no idea how long the War had raged since he had fled the last time.

He was still torn about this decision. He did not want to spend eternity trapped in a Time Loop, but he didn't really want to escape the War and save the universe either. Perhaps he could merely escape the War and live out the rest of his days somewhere outside the Time Lock. No, that wouldn't do. If Rassilon really had plans for the universe there would be no chance at peace. His best option appeared to be running somewhere, anywhere else and just letting the War take its course. How ready to die he was...

That plan posed a few problems of its own, however. He had been instructed to find a Chameleon Arch in order to hide from the Council and any other Time Lords. They would be able to find him if he remained a Time Lord himself, and the plan was to hide amongst the humans until he could find the Doctor and stop Rassilon. He supposed that he could simply not break free of the Time Lock and hide as a human until the War ended, but he absolutely refused to die in the form of a lesser species. That was just a matter of pride he simply would not compromise. However if he remained a Time Lord, they would be able to find him anywhere he hid on Gallifrey, and there was no time to find transport off of the planet.

Saving the universe was his only option, and it made him sick to his stomach.

Something flashed in his field of vision, just briefly and out of the corner of his eye, and he skidded to a halt. There, displayed on a shelf, was a small, identity card sized slip of psychic paper. For most of his lives he had never really seen much use for such an object, but perhaps nicking some right now wouldn't be such a bad idea. The Doctor had used some back on Earth, maybe he could put some to good use when he went incognito amongst the Earth wretches.

Besides, it wasn't as though the owner of the paper would be needing use of it anytime soon...

Nope. Nuh-uh. There was no way. This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening. He refused to believe this was happening, and he believed a lot of things. This was impossible. It was simply not possible, and that was that. No arguments for it, because it wasn't happening.

Except that it was, because Leah had gone completely insane.

She had popped off to the computer room and was actually looking up flight times to London. Leah was planning on taking this strange man's word over Jack's own and she was willing to drive him to the airport. This man who Jack knew wasn't who he said he was. Well, no, actually he was who he said he was, which was the problem in the first place. He didn't seem evil, but there was no mistaking that this man was, indeed, the mysterious Harold Saxon, and that could mean no good things.

And Leah wanted to help him.

Jack stared at the man, who was sitting back down on the couch and staring off into space. OK, so no he didn't look like some crazed madman ready to snap their necks at any second. In fact, he looked a lot more like he wasn't all there in the head, but in a sad, "needs a bit of help" sort of way rather than a scary, "we're all going to die" sort of way. Maybe there was more to the Saxon story than even the conspiracy theorists knew. There was every chance that Saxon's "death" had been a cover up by the government for him being shipped off to the loony bin. There was also every chance that Saxon was just a really good actor, and he was putting on a show.

Jack decided to test the waters. "I know who you are," he declared softly so Leah wouldn't hear him. She was out of the room, but the house wasn't particularly big and she had terrifyingly good hearing.

The Saxon fellow's eyes flickered towards Jack and he raised his eyebrows in dull surprise. "Really? Would you care to enlighten me then? It's a bit fuzzy up here." He tapped his temple.

Not really the response he had been expecting, but it could just be a front. Jack pressed on. "Look, don't play games with me. I know who you are and what you've done, you can stop pretending now. What are you up to?"

Harry sighed, the greatest, heaviest sigh Jack had ever heard. His eyes glazed over, sliding in and out of focus, and he was back to that thousand metre stare again. "I wish I could tell you. I am up to something, yes, but I'm not... It's all very vague, you see." He paused and chewed his lip. "What do you mean? What have I done? Because I don't remember much. There are details that seem to be filling in the gaps, one by one, about my childhood and my parents and my home, but the more recent things... Well. I don't know the kind of man I grew up to be. It's really rather distressing to know you need to do something, but to be unsure of whether your intentions are malicious or benign." He went quiet and his eyes widened.

Jack really didn't know how to react. This was not the same Saxon that he knew from the websites. "I'm so sorry, I wish I could help."

"Sometimes," Harry whispered, ignoring Jack, "I fear that I've done some very, very unpleasant things."

Before anything else could be said on the matter, Leah burst back into the living room. "Alright!" she cried. "I've found a flight we can catch if we leave right now and drive quickly. You're sure you can get us onto this thing last minute? Because if it's a no-go, I'm leaving you at the airport and you can find your own damn way home."

Harry nodded fervently, perking up. Even if he didn't know the sort of man he was, at least he would be going home, and he would be able to easily figure things out from there. Hopefully.

"Excellent! Let's get going then."