The Doctor returned to his TARDIS a second time. He'd been sure to avoid his first self, as much as was necessary and had therefore parked in a completely different area. It had been a bit of a hike, but it was worth it. And he could finally clean up a bit. Still, risky as the entire venture had been, he didn't regret it. He'd done what he'd needed to do and learned what he'd needed to learn.

Like the fact that Thomas and Patricia Edwards were listed as missing, not dead.

He'd need a bit of time, first. He didn't think the children would take kindly to him when he was covered in blood. And it would take him a while to get the stains out of this suit. He could change, of course, but that would require transferring everything out of his pockets, and he wasn't entirely sure what was in these pockets, and he thought it may be best if he didn't find out.

And he could clean it without emptying all the pockets. It would take longer. Well, perhaps not as long as making sure he had every pocket completely empty, but still. He'd risked enough doubling back as he had. Yes, he'd justified that, but instability and cheap tricks and doing it simply because he knew he had already done it weren't always the best claims. He knew what he was trying to hide when he was justifying it to himself, and somehow that never worked out. Still. He'd prepared everything at the Evil Leaper Project. He hadn't been fibbing about that.

Well, fibbing was a bit strong. He'd been stretching the truth. It would be the truth once he finished up with this, because then it would be set and primed. All ready for the splicing itself. Both parallels were prepared. Well, that is to say, this parallel was prepared, and he'd checked, and nothing had become distorted in the other one, so it was the same as always, ready and waiting for him.

He was rather lucky these two had split the way they had. Well, he was never lucky when he ended up in situations like this, but he was lucky in that he would be able to manoeuvre the way he needed to in order to splice these parallels alone. If the other one weren't so stable, if it, too, had been weak like this one, then he would've found things a tad more difficult. Namely because he was one Time Lord. Singular, two selves aside, since his other self wasn't much use at the moment. He'd had something that he'd intended to do, the Doctor knew. But he also didn't need to cross to the other parallel to know that it hadn't been done.

That was not very comforting.

He could take comfort in the fact that he was alive, though. That meant things hadn't gone terribly wrong in the leaping process. With the primitive technology the good people at Project Quantum Leap were using, if his other self had splintered, shattering in the leap, he wouldn't have come out of it to be here in the first place. He probably would have been dead. And Sam….

He wasn't entirely sure what would have happened to Sam. He likely would've been stuck with Martha on the terminating parallel. This parallel. The aura would have melted away, and the link to the Project would have been lost, and they would have been alone in the final hours. Especially since he wasn't entirely certain that the TARDIS would have been able to take them home safely—the instability in the Vortex risked tearing them apart, and the old girl would've had the good sense to wait until she could transport them safely. The question was whether or not that time would ever arrive, or whether she would've taken a risk with his companions, judging that such a time wouldn't come, and possibly exposed them to enough temporal radiation, shields or no, that their atoms—

But that hadn't happened. At least, not yet. And he knew that if he was careful enough, he could prevent everything from reverting on him, from falling apart. He could stop it, stop events from slipping through his fingers, and he could keep a grasp on the important streams within the timeline. He needed to be able to do that in order to splice it. All he was doing now was making sure everything was aligned—people, places, events, all in the right places at the right time, all connecting where they should, interacting like they ought to, coming to the intended conclusions. There would be a few misfits, now, because he'd changed a few things he hadn't meant to, and he had to compensate for that. He had to cushion those events so that they survived the splicing.

But that was the easy part, next to the actual splicing itself.

Once the splicing was initiated, he only had so long to finish it before it all started to unravel on him. He could be left holding the ends of two dying parallels, with nowhere and nowhen to return to, trapping himself in the Void, caught between universes—assuming he survived long enough to comprehend what had happened.

Still. It wasn't impossible, and he knew what he was getting into. He would have to mentally venture into the Vortex, select the right strands, and physically weave them together. Well, not physically, not really, but it wasn't simply mentally or temporally, either.

It would be physically draining, yes. He'd need the mental support of the TARDIS, yes. And he'd probably lose a few years in the process, no matter how careful he was, but he could at least do his best to make sure they weren't very important years. Of course, if he had the energy and the time, he wouldn't need to lose entire years at once; he could shave it off by days, hours, maybe even minutes.

If he did it that way, it would be less noticeable, but it would add up and have the same effect. The humans who devised the Gregorian calendar at least understood that, even if they couldn't figure out how to sort time into days and months and years without requiring extra time every four years. But perhaps that was because they tried cataloguing time in the first place without really understanding it.

Just as well. He wouldn't wish them without those limitations. He depended on those limitations. It was annoying, sometimes, how they always trapped themselves within those imagined limits, but it also proved exceedingly useful and was undoubtedly the only reason the timeline hadn't been destroyed earlier.

It had merely been a minor mistake on the part of his future self, underestimating things as he had. But he was allowed to make the odd mistake or small miscalculation here and there. He could fix them.

Usually.

The Doctor sighed. He was getting ahead of himself. First things first. Tidy himself up, find out whatever happened to Thomas and Patricia Edwards, and go to make sure it did happen. Or, failing that, tidy up, track them down, and make it up as he went along. Either ought to work, seeing how good he was at improvising. But if it wouldn't take him too much time, he ought to see if he could find out what was supposed to happen first, because the last thing he needed was an anomaly that resisted the splicing.

Time wasn't easy to weave together in the first place, once it started to unravel. He didn't need anything more resisting his actions.

The Doctor cautiously stuck his head out the door. The coast seemed clear for now. That was good. It would give him time to scout the area. He wasn't entirely sure how the children were supposed to die, and if he didn't find that out, he couldn't very well make them disappear. And evidently, they had disappeared, according to Lothos's records. He could only assume that that was his own intervention.

Closing the door of the TARDIS behind him, he moseyed off to inspect the yard. Wasn't much, but it was enough. It was homey. This wasn't the first generation that this family had been on the farm. And he got the impression that it was respected, the land and the farm and the family.

He had to tear them apart, that family. Two kids, and another on the way, if he'd gotten a good look at Joan—tricky, but he had been able to look beneath Alia's aura when he'd tried, once he'd gotten the alignment patterns right. But he was still confident that he was right.

At least his separation wouldn't be permanent, not like it would have been if Alia had managed to complete her mission as originally intended.

The fact that the outcome had changed so easily, from death to disappearance, told him that however Alia had meant to murder the children, it wasn't quick and definitive. Which meant, essentially, no guns—nor knives, given Alia's training. Probably not strangling, either. Drowning, perhaps suffocation? It wasn't likely that she'd try to drop them out the window. Unless he was there to catch the kids, they weren't likely to survive. At least, not unscathed. Very small chance of that. And, well, he would prefer to return them to their parents in one piece. He'd learned that it was difficult enough returning them when they were perfectly fine; he'd hate to have to bring the children back if they were feeling anything less than one hundred percent.

It occurred to him that if he watched the children and kept track of them, he wouldn't have to pursue his survey of sloughs and crumbling buildings, but he decided that he had enough trouble with companions who wandered off and wasn't liable to have much better luck with children.

Though, as it turned out, one of the children found him first.

"Who are you?"

The Doctor grinned at Patricia Edwards, dropping down to her height. "Hello," he said cheerily. "I'm the Doctor. Who are you?"

"Patsy. How did you get here?'

The Doctor figured Patsy wasn't quite ready for a lecture on transdimensional physics, so he simply said, "I walked."

"From where?'

Right. The never-ending questions. It had been a while since he'd dealt with children. When was the last time, that stint in 2012? That hardly counted. And the children he'd been teaching had been past this stage. He'd probably have to go back to his ninth regeneration, the time he'd met up with Captain Jack during the Blitz. Or even further back than that.

"Over the hill."

"Why?" And before the Doctor could come up with an answer, Patsy added, "Are you going to help Mommy?"

"Why would I need to do that? Is something wrong with her?"

Patsy shrugged. "She's acting funny. And Tommy was scared of her. He acted like he does around strangers. He only just started coming around this morning. Daddy didn't notice; he's been away too much. He's gone before even I get up and he's not back before I go to bed. He's tired when he comes in, but he'll stop and come and say goodnight to me. Except now it's the weekend, so I can stay up later. But he still comes in, because I'm usually asleep by the time he comes in for good. I've only heard him a few times."

"Right. Well, I mi—"

"And you're not the doctor from town, because I know the doctor from town, and you're not Dr. Teller."

"No, I'm not," the Doctor agreed. "I'm not from town."

"So where are you from?"

He'd walked into that one. He wondered if she'd planned it. Children were smarter than adults gave them credit for. "It's a long way away."

"Where?"

Or perhaps she was just asking questions. You could always tell the outgoing children from the shy ones. "Gallifrey."

"Where's that?"

"A long way away," the Doctor repeated.

"That's what you said before."

"Yes, it is. Now, Patsy, tell me, has your mother done anything especially unusual since she hasn't been herself?"

"She's been acting funny," Patsy repeated.

"Yes, I know, you told me that. But how is she acting funny? What's she been doing that's different?"

"Everything." And before the Doctor could ask for clarification, Patsy continued, "Why are you here?"

"I'm here to help."

"Help who?"

"Just to help. But right now, I was wondering, is there any place you're not allowed to go?"

Patsy nodded. "There's lots of places. The old well and the stone pile and the dugout and the old bins and the hayloft in the barn, but I like to go to the barn and swing on the rope even though Mommy tells me not to."

"And is that where you're going now?"

Patsy shook her head. "I was going to slide down the grain pile. Annie said she did it and that it was really fun except she got really itchy and her mom made her take a bath and she got in a lot of trouble because they didn't know that she'd done it. But she hadn't meant to do it to start. She said she was just following Boots and he climbed up and she followed him and then he ran off and she slid down but that was fun so she did it again and again until her mom found her and she got in trouble."

"And did you tell your mom what you were planning?"

Patsy nodded. "She said to have fun and not to be too long."

"Did she now." The Doctor frowned. "Well, you be careful, Patsy, and I'm going to see you before I go, all right?"

"All right," Patsy agreed. And then she went off, singing something under her breath, leaving the Doctor's hearts aching. He wanted to forbid her, or at least to follow her, but he couldn't stop things now. He knew how they were supposed to play out, and he had to let that happen.

Even if he really, really didn't like to do it.

In the meantime, he thought he'd inspect some of the places Patsy had named off. The well sounded like an interesting place, so he thought he'd try to find that. Still, the barn was nearby, so he could check that out first. He'd have to keep an eye out, though. Didn't want to be caught. The questions any of the adults would ask him would be a bit different from Patsy's. He wasn't sure if the Edwards had any hired help. If the father—Henry? Harry?—was busy in the field most of the day, they could certainly use another hand, what with Joan occupied with the children. But human society depended so much on money, and he wasn't sure how much the Edwards family had.

He spent more time in the barn than he should have. Even the sharp scent of manure hadn't driven him out, not once he'd found the treasure trove up in the hayloft. It was in one corner, that mishmash of things. He couldn't resist looking through it. He hadn't seen some of these things in ages.

One proved to be something even he couldn't identify. That piece was small, so he kept it. They'd never know it was missing, would they? And he was doing them a favour of sorts. He certainly knew how odds and ends piled up. They probably didn't even want it. Perhaps they didn't even know what it was, but he'd find someone who knew and show it to them. Then, that person could tell him, and the mystery would be solved.

To be fair, one of the reasons he couldn't discern its purpose could be because it was part of something larger, something that wasn't kept in this pile. He couldn't know for certain. Anyway, he thought the piece he had would fit quite nicely with the secondary switch level on the portable anti-filtration device that he was building. It would make it easier to have the device double as a saturation detector, too, judging by its proportions.

The Doctor did a quick tour around the barn and sighted a few potential trouble spots, but he couldn't settle on a scenario that would allow any of those areas to be used and the actions thought successful. Funny, though, that they'd let a disappearance mean the same as a death. A disappearance was far less definitive. He had to wonder what the people at the Evil Leaper Project thought they would be changing, and what they would gain from that change. He'd have to figure that out, or he'd have more than a bit of trouble sorting this.

It took a bit of wandering to find the well. Well, the old well, at least. The newer one was quite evident with its prominent pump, the metal painted recently enough not to be worn, but the old one— The old one had trees growing up to it now. The reason it caught his attention was the new boards that fenced it off. He hopped the fence and set about for a closer inspection. The wooden covering was rotting through. He poked at it a bit, peering through a knothole. He dropped a stone through it, listening. It was dry. And about fifteen, twenty feet down, he'd say, if he had to guess.

It could have potential. Alia's plan for Patsy was clear enough, but if she dropped Tommy down here, she wouldn't need to look to see if he survived. Chances were, he wouldn't.

But it was curious that they didn't check.

The Doctor straightened up, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he frowned down at the well. He'd have to keep an eye on this place. Though, come to that, he'd rather like to check up on Patsy, too. If he was going to get to her in a rush, which he'd have to in order to have perfect timing, since he'd have to find her before her actual death and after Zoey's pronouncement that the experiment had been a success, then he'd have to know her precise whereabouts now. Still, Zoey wouldn't make the mistake twice when it came to death and disappearance. He wondered if she'd just scanned for life signs and found none as opposed to actually looking.

Come to that, it wouldn't exactly be easy to nip Patsy away, especially if she was still conscious. She'd looked like she'd had a set of lungs on her. And, while she was curious about him, curiosity didn't constitute trust. Then again, he was in a rural area. He was more likely to find trust here. But he still wouldn't be able to convince her to come away with him, not without some explanation to satisfy her. Judging by his earlier conversation with her, that would take some time, and he didn't have a lot of time if he had to get her and Tommy away for Zoey to proclaim the success of their first experiment.

Of course, perhaps his schedule wasn't quite that tight, not if they were equating disappearances to deaths. From that perspective, they'd find it successful either way. But things had the potential to change now. Here, they were still looking at deaths as a success, and that would be what Zoey would be looking for when the time came. What he needed to do was create the right ripples so that they would accept the disappearances instead. Or, at least, that's what he thought. Because surely they wouldn't be so accommodating all on their own, would they?

Perhaps. He'd have to play it by ear.

Not that that negated his scheduling in any way. He'd still be pressed for time.

Remembering how Patsy had said Tommy reacted to strangers, getting them away before he ran out of time wasn't going to be easy.

Perhaps he could try seeing Tommy, too. Give the child a chance to get used to him. He might not cry as much then. Still, he couldn't do that unless he knew where Alia was, because she couldn't know what he was planning. Actually, he couldn't run into her, period. If she was Swiss-cheesed, she might not recognize him, if he was lucky, but if she mentioned him to Zoey, even in passing, things would get a whole lot worse. And—

"Hello."

The Doctor turned around, and his hearts sank. Alia. He didn't even need to look beneath Joan's guise to know it was her. Well, given what had happened at the Project, with the connections she'd made, he had suspected that he would run into her. Still, with all the potential things had to change, he had to be very careful. But, oh, she must be Swiss-cheesed, because she didn't know who he was. That was a bit of good luck, at least. She looked a bit edgy, but then again, it was her first leap. He slowly stripped away Joan's aura to see Alia beneath. She looked more tense as herself, more afraid.

He couldn't change that. He couldn't even bring a smile to his face as he greeted her in return. "Hello, Alia." He waited, expecting her to say something, but she looked like she was struggling to place him. He couldn't have that. He'd have to distract her. Opting for a lighter tone, one that spoke more of curiosity than of questioning, he asked, "Where's Patsy at the moment?'

Alia looked caught off guard by his question, but she regained enough of her composure to give him a careful answer. "In the yard."

Well, that didn't help. He knew that. He knew she was up in the grain, but he didn't know which pile. He could ask about her brother, then, since he wasn't with Alia. "And is—"

"She hasn't been gone long enough, as I'm sure you would know."

Oh, she definitely hadn't placed him, not if she was responding like that. All she knew was that he was from the Project, and she probably only knew that because he knew her name. He shook his head and voiced his intention, saying, "I mean to ask after Tommy." Perhaps she'd give him a clearer answer.

She didn't. "He's still safe at the moment," was her vague reply. Then, her tone a touch harsher, "If Zoey's asking, I've my plans to change that."

Well, he couldn't very well ask her outright about Tommy now. Chances were, he was in the house. And Alia's answer told him that it had been a while since Zoey had turned up, which meant she could be due for another little visit at any moment. And if she was, then Alia would be trying to figure out her plan, so that she wouldn't let Zoey—or Lothos—down. Zoey would have taken great pleasure in reminding Alia of the consequences of failure.

Pity Alia had listened too well to his words; she'd evidently recalled their gist, even if she didn't recall who had said them. Or perhaps she'd only recalled their meaning and hadn't been able to place why she was feeling the way she was but had been confused enough to go along with it anyway. Whatever the case, it was enough to keep her listening to Zoey's words. She hadn't balked at her assignment this time, not like she had the first time around.

Still, he could see if he could find out exactly what Zoey had told Alia. He'd have to pretend that he knew already, of course, or Alia wouldn't tell him anything at all, but surely Zoey would have given her some impression of the significance of the task. If he could get Alia to tell him, he'd have a better idea of what to do, and how to go about it. Or at least he'd find out why disappearance was sufficient when death had been called for.

He'd glanced at the record of the leap but hadn't thought he had sufficient time to memorize it. He had had other things to do, after all. Well, that, and he knew he had to coordinate around the time that Thames would come in. As far as he could tell, he'd been right to think Thames had found him shortly after Zoey had confronted Alia, which had been quite close to when he'd left Alia's chamber, since he'd gone once he'd heard Zoey heading there.

Alia had been quiet for a while, watching him warily, and he realized that she intended for him to reply. Easy enough; Zoey wasn't asking after the fates of the children, at least not of him, and not now, not to his knowledge. "She's not," the Doctor answered, "but she might, next time she sees you. Still. I've a poor memory, me. Remind me, these children, their deaths are to prevent them from going on and doing great and wonderful things, correct?"

"Perhaps, but for all I know, the intention is to break the parents." Alia didn't sound very confident. He couldn't put too much weight on that assertion, but he did have to consider it. He'd been thinking that the Project intended to take the futures away from the children. Granted, that didn't need to be done at this precise time; there were plenty of opportunities for that. Alia may be right after all.

Though if she were, disappearances wouldn't hold the same weight as deaths, not if they were temporary. Or maybe they would. He may have spent a few years on Earth, and many more saving it, but that didn't mean he understood humans, not really. They were highly emotional creatures, quite unlike Time Lords, most of whom tried to distance themselves from that. He didn't care for that sort of attitude. He much preferred an emotional human to his own people.

Although that wasn't to say he didn't regret everything. He'd give almost anything to see them all again, the way he liked to remember them. Before.

He had to keep his mind in the here and now. Alia was waiting for him to say something, and he wanted to ask her for her opinion. "Oh, right, should've thought of that," the Doctor said—rather amiably, if he did say so himself. It was important to keep up a cheerful appearance; it would throw Alia off his scent, if nothing else. "Still. Disappearances would count as the same, right?"

"I haven't the faintest idea," answered Alia, giving him a puzzled look. "May I ask why you are here?"

She was getting suspicious now. He couldn't keep this going for much longer. "Oh, just looking. Seeing how things worked out for you."

Her response was swift and sharp. She was a bit bitter, then, with what she had to do. There was still hope. "I imagine that the information would be sufficient on your end." It was the sort of reply he'd been getting out of her before. It had a touch more fire, more criticism, but the answer was still carefully constructed, well thought out.

"Well, you would." The Doctor glanced around. He was getting edgy. The longer he stayed, the more likely Alia would connect him with something he couldn't be connected with. No wonder she'd had questions when he'd last talked to her. He had to hand it to her for getting him out of isolation, but he couldn't say she'd like her reward, seeing as he'd repaid her by cursing her to leaping. She wouldn't even be freed the first time she encountered Sam, although if she recalled any of what he told her, he had no doubt she'd wonder. She'd be strong enough, though, if all went well. She'd make the right choice, even in the face of pain. She'd remember the importance of balance, once Sam reminded her.

At least, that's what the records at Project Quantum Leap stated. And he was here to make sure they held. Best way to do that was to make sure whatever he'd done so far held, which included Alia's silence of this little visit. She'd dropped him enough clues to have him guess, but she couldn't ask him outright or he'd be in a spot of trouble. He was fortunate that she hadn't asked him before. She had probably been sorely tempted to do so. "I would, ah, appreciate it if you didn't mention seeing me here. To me or anyone else."

She was silent for a few seconds, and he feared he'd said the wrong thing. He needed her to agree. He couldn't risk reconstructing more of the timeline around this error. The splicing was less likely to hold when it contained so many weaknesses. He hadn't helped matters before, doubling back as he had.

Then again, if he hadn't, he wouldn't have gotten out the first time, let alone out the second time. He'd seen himself the first time, and he knew Thames had caught him fixing Lothos with the inhibitor and fiddling with the retrieval system once he'd gone back. He was rather relying on the fact that Thames and Zoey didn't trust each other and that if either of them tried getting anything out of Lothos, they'd be unsuccessful. He didn't need them piecing together the fact that he'd been unconscious in Alia's chamber at the same time that he was fixing things in the main control room.

He almost missed Alia's response, her soft-spoken promise to keep silent, but her words registered in the turmoil in his mind. He couldn't stop the grin from spreading across his face. Perhaps things would work out after all. Perhaps his luck wasn't as spotty as he'd thought. "Brilliant," he announced happily. "Thank you."

He turned away from her then, heading back the way he'd come, towards the hill. He'd check in on Patsy. Alia's presence at the well had confirmed, in his mind, that that was how she was planning to dispose of Tommy. He wasn't entirely sure when, but he doubted Zoey would have left it long to gloat to him. He could correlate the time differential and figure it out from there. He loved a bit of mental math. It kept him sharp.