AN: Oh boy did I have fun writing this one... enjoy!
Chapter 6: Human Nature
The three of them sprinted into the Tardis, crouching low as a ferocious blast from an energy weapon flew past them.
"Get down!" He slammed the door shut, breathing heavily. "Did they see you?"
Martha shook her head. "I don't know."
"But did they see you?"
"I don't know. I was too busy running."
"Martha, it's important. Did they see your face?"
"No, they couldn't have."
"Off we go then! Romana, what about you?"
"No chance." The redhead tugged the thin scarf away from her face, blinking in the new brightness of the console room. "I wove perception diverting threads into this a while back, it's always been in my pocket in case of emergencies. Even if they saw me from the front, they'd only see a blank canvas in place of my facial features. We're safe."
She moved to assist him in piloting the Tardis, but a large jolt made them both stumble. He groaned. "Argh! They're following us."
Martha was hanging tightly onto one of the railings. "How can they do that? You've got a time machine."
"Stolen technology. They've got a Time Agent's vortex manipulator. They can follow us wherever we go, right across the universe. They're never going to stop, unless… I'll have to do it. Martha, you trust us, don't you?"
"Of course I do."
"Because it all depends on you."
"What does? What am I supposed to do?"
He rummaged under the console for a moment, producing a beautifully decorated pocket watch.
"Take this watch, because my life depends on it. This watch, Martha. The watch is-"
He blinked, the details of his wood-panelled bedroom coming into focus as he woke up. A clock on the far wall ticked softly, the sound blending with voices in the corridor outside. He got out of bed, stretching slightly as a knock sounded on the door.
"Come in."
Martha entered, carrying a fully laden breakfast tray.
"Pardon me, Mister Smith. You're not dressed yet. I can come back later."
"No, it's all right, it's all right. Put it down. I was er. Sorry, sorry. Sometimes I have these extraordinary dreams." He pulled on a navy dressing gown as she set the tray down and moved to open the curtains, her long maid's uniform catching at her ankles a little.
"What about, sir?"
"I dream I'm this adventurer. This daredevil, an absolute madman. The Doctor, I'm called. And last night I dreamt that you were there, as my companion. And there was another member of staff, one of the science teachers. Although the name I referred to her by does not match any of the people who are currently employed here. It's all rather bizarre. "
She did her best to keep her tone neutral. "Two teachers and a housemaid, sir? That's impossible."
"I'm a man from another world, though."
"Well it can't be true because there's no such thing."
"This thing. The watch is…" He trailed off, running his fingers over the interlocking circles that decorated the cover before putting it back down. "Ah, it's funny how dreams slip away. But I do remember one thing; it all took place in the future. In the year of our Lord two thousand and seven."
She took the paper from the breakfast tray.
"I can prove that wrong for you, sir. Here's the morning paper. It's Monday, November tenth, nineteen thirteen, and you're completely human, sir. As human as they come."
"Mmm, that's me. Completely human."
A textbook in hand, John Smith stood in front of the blackboard at the head of his class of fourteen-year-olds, reading aloud.
"...advanced with little impediment. The French were all but spent, with only two battalions of the old guard remaining. A final reserve force was charged with protecting Napoleon, but by evening, the advance of the Allied troops had forced them to retreat."
The classroom door opened and a short redheaded woman stepped into view.
"I apologise for interrupting, Mister Smith. But I believe I left some of my students' prep books in here over the weekend."
"Ah, I do recall finding some books that I didn't recognise, Miss Thomas. One moment, I'll find them for you."
"Thank you, sir."
He set his book down for a moment and ran an hand over the books piled up by the window, setting on one particular stack and picking them up.
"I believe these are yours."
"Ah, yes. My twelve year olds will be incredibly grateful that I haven't misplaced all of their hard work. Thank you."
"You're very welcome."
She smiled politely, then ducked out of the room and closed the door again. He stood there a fraction of a second longer before returning to his desk.
"Now, class. Where were we?"
Martha and one of the other maids, Jenny, were busy at work in the corridor. Neither of the women understood why whoever had built the school had decided that tiled floors were a good idea - but that was possibly because they were sick of scrubbing for hours every day. It wasn't even lunchtime yet, and they were both aching all over. Mr Smith left his now empty classroom with his arms full of books, looking deep in thought.
"Morning, sir."
"What? Oh, yes, hi."
He wandered off up the stairs without much more of a response, and Jenny shot her a look.
"Head in the clouds, that one. Don't know why you're so sweet on him."
"He's just kind to me, that's all. Not everyone's that considerate, what with me being…" She gestured at her face, and the other maid raised an eyebrow.
"A Londoner?"
"Exactly. Good old London town!"
They grinned at each other - but their light-hearted moment was interrupted by a couple of the older boys.
"Er, now then, you two. You're not paid to have fun, are you? Put a little backbone into it."
Jenny ducked her head. "Yes, sir. Sorry, sir."
"You there, what's your name again?"
"Martha, sir. Martha Jones."
"Tell me then, Jones. With hands like those, how can you tell when something's clean?"
They sniggered and moved to walk away, but found their path blocked.
"Apologise to Martha, Hutchinson."
"It's only a bit of fun, Miss Thomas-"
"I don't care." Marion stared up at the tall students, steely eyed. "I don't happen to find it funny. Now apologise."
"But-"
"You have two options here: option one, you apologise to Martha now; option two, you will be writing lines for the next week - under my supervision, so I can ensure you're not passing the work off to the younger boys. Do you understand me?"
Both boys hung their heads, looking a little contrite.
"Yes ma'am. Sorry Martha."
They walked off, barely waiting to get around the corner before starting to laugh again. Marion sighed and looked down at them.
"I'm sorry I couldn't do more."
"Thank you anyway-" She reflexively went to say her real name, and then remembered that she wouldn't answer to that now. "Miss Thomas. Most people wouldn't have even bothered."
"Well," she smiled softly. "I'm not most people. Excuse me, I have an experiment to set up for my next group."
And she set off. Jenny nudged Martha in the arm.
"I thought you were about to answer back before Miss Thomas came to the rescue."
"I wanted to answer back with my bucket over his head."
"Oh, I wish. Just think, though. In a few years time, boys like that'll be running the country. Let's just hope there'll be women like her with enough influence to make a difference."
Martha only really heard the first part of what she said, her mind dwelling on it.
"Nineteen thirteen. They might not."
The Matron found that she was so wrapped up in her own thoughts that she very nearly walked into Mr Smith, who looked like he was struggling to see where he was going past the large stack of books in his arms.
"Oh, good morning, Mister Smith."
He turned to greet her and some of the books slipped from his grasp, falling to the floor.
"Ah, bother."
"Let me help you."
"No, no, I've got it, no. Er… how best to retrieve these?"
She took the slightly smaller half of the stack from his arms. "How about I take these from you? Then you can re-arrange the fallen ones."
"Yes, excellent idea." He did so, and the pair straightened up again.
"Good."
"No harm done. So, er, how was Jenkins?"
"Oh just a cold. Nothing serious. I think he's missing his mother more than anything."
His face fell a little. "Oh, we can't have that."
"Well, he received a letter this morning, so he's a lot more chipper. I appear to still be holding your books."
"Yes, so you are. Sorry, sorry. Just let me."
"No, why don't I keep half for now?"
"Ah, brilliant idea. Brilliant. Perfect. Division of labour."
"We make quite a team."
"Don't we just."
"So, these books. Were they being taken in any particular direction?"
"Yes. This way."
They started off down a smaller corridor chatting amiably.
"I always say, Matron, give the boys a good head of steam, they'll soon wear themselves out."
"Truth be told, when it's just you and me, I'd much rather you call me Nurse Redfern. Matron sounds rather well, matronly."
"Ah. Nurse Redfern it is then."
"Though we've known each other all of two months, you could even say Joan."
"Joan?"
"That's my name."
"Well, obviously."
"And it's John, isn't it?"
"Yes, yes, it is, yes."
They stopped at the notice board. She made a point of turning to read one of the posters, and he shifted on the spot a little. A rather uncomfortable heat was rising in his cheeks, and he hoped it wasn't showing.
"Have you seen this, John? The annual dance at the village hall tomorrow. It's nothing formal, but rather fun by all accounts. Do you think you'll go?"
"I hadn't thought about it."
"It's been ages since I've been to a dance, only no one's asked me."
He started to back away a little, suddenly very nervous.
"Well, I should imagine that you'd be, er… I mean, I never thought you'd be one for…. I mean, there's no reason why you shouldn't... If you do, you may not... I, I probably won't, but even if I did then I couldn't... I mean I wouldn't want to-"
"The stairs."
"What about the stairs?"
"They're right behind you."
And he fell backwards in a flurry of books and papers, coming to a stop at the bottom of the stairs with a groan.
She helped him back to his rooms, stopping on the way to ask Miss Thomas to bring her some supplies.
"I would take them myself, but I would rather have both of my hands free in case he falls on the way up."
"Of course, Nurse Redfern."
Once they were there, she got him to sit on the sofa so she could take a look at the back of his head. She had barely touched him when he flinched away.
"Stop it. I get boys causing less fuss than this."
"Because it hurts!"
Martha burst in, closely followed by Miss Thomas.
"Is he all right?"
"Excuse me, Martha. It's hardly good form to enter a master's study without knocking."
"Sorry. Right. Yeah."
She darted back to the door and knocked on it sharply, making Marion's lips twitch as she handed the bandages over.
"But is he all right? They said you fell down the stairs, sir."
Mr Smith brushed her off. "No, it was just a tumble, that's all."
"Have you checked for concussion?"
Joan looked a little perturbed. "I have. And I daresay I know a lot more about it than you."
"Sorry. I'll just tidy your things."
He relaxed as she stopped touching his head, eyes falling on Marion as she straightened up one of the book piles on his desk. "I was just telling Nurse Redfern, Matron, about my dreams. They are quite remarkable tales. I keep imagining that I'm someone else, and that I'm hiding."
Joan, noticing the change in title, felt her heart sink a little, but tried to ignore it.
"Hiding? In what way?"
"They're almost every night. This is going to sound silly."
Looking up at him, Marion's eyes glinted. "I find that silly stories are often the best. Do tell."
He smiled at her. "I dream, quite often, that I have two hearts."
Taking her stethoscope from the box, Joan nodded firmly.
"Well, then. I can be the judge of that. Let's find out." And she listened for a few moments. "I can confirm the diagnosis. Just one heart, singular."
Martha felt her own heart sink, and she noticed a slightly odd look on Marion's face too. That gave her a little hope - the other woman realised something wasn't quite right there too.
Mr Smith continued, not aware of the microexpressions on the women's faces.
"I have er, I have written down some of these dreams in the form of fiction. Not that it would be of any interest."
Marion sat down next to him, grinning. "Well, I'd be very interested. If it's not too personal to share, of course."
"Well, I've never actually shown it to anyone before."
He passed it over to her and she read the title in tones of wonder. "A Journal of Impossible Things. How intriguing."
She flicked through the first few pages of the diary, full of inky scrawl and artfully blotchy pictures. Her face fell a little, and she passed it over to Joan.
"My apologies. The art is beautiful, Mr Smith, but I'm afraid it is a little… shocking on first glance."
"Not at all, I understand. And please, call me John. You have known me long enough now that formalities are not so necessary."
She still looked a little pale, and Martha moved to put a hand on her shoulder.
"Is everything alright, Miss Thomas?"
"Yes, yes, I am perfectly fine, thank you Martha. I just had the strangest of feelings for a moment that I… well, that I had seen some of those things from the images before. It's ridiculous, really. It doesn't matter."
Joan clearly wasn't having the same issue, Martha thought.
"Just look at these creatures. Such imagination."
She didn't recognise all of the creatures herself - but then again, she didn't really need to.
He looked bashful at the praise. "It's become quite a hobby."
"It's wonderful. And quite an eye for the pretty girls."
"Oh no, no, she's just an invention. This character, Rose. I call her, Rose. Seems to disappear later on. She… seems to act as a replacement, in my mind, someone to care for in the place of someone else. It's all very strange. I simply can't remember the name of the person this character of mine seems to have lost."
Joan turned another page, and he brightened up.
"Ah, that's the box. The blue box. It's always there. Like a… like a magic carpet. This funny little box that transports me to faraway places."
"Like a doorway?"
"Mmm. I sometimes think how magical life would be if stories like this were true."
"If only."
"It's just a dream."
Having been distracted by some dusting, Martha narrowly missed Joan leaving Mr Smith's rooms, and ran after her.
"Ma'am? That book."
"Oh, I'll look after it. Don't worry. He did say I could read it."
"But it's silly, that's all. Just stories."
The nurse's brow furrowed. "Who is he, Martha?"
"I'm sorry?"
"It's like he's left the kettle on. Like he knows he has something to get back to, but he can't remember what."
"That's just him."
"You arrived with him, didn't you? He and Miss Thomas found you employment here at the school, isn't that right?"
"I used to work for his family. He just sort of inherited me. And Miss Thomas met him at university, I did some work for her family as a favour a few times so I'm relatively well acquainted with both."
"Well, I'd be careful. If you don't mind my saying, you sometimes seem a little familiar - especially with him. Best remember your position."
As the woman turned away, she rolled her eyes. "Yes, ma'am."
Joan vanished around the corner, and a couple of seconds later Marion stuck her head around the door frame.
"Martha?"
"Hmm? Sorry, uh, yes miss?"
"For what it's worth, I don't think you're too familiar at all."
"You heard that?"
"I have very good ears." The twinkle was back in her eyes again, and Martha could see fragments of the Romana she knew and adored hidden deep in there. "Just be careful of what you're saying around other people. I understand - they clearly don't."
Hutchinson swaggered back into the dorm, tossing a book at the youngest boy the moment he got through the door. "Ah, Latimer. Here you are, Latin translation. Blasted Catullus. I want it done by morning."
"Yes, sir."
"And no mistakes. I want it written in my best handwriting." He dug a letter out of his blazer pocket, slumping onto his bed and turning the conversation to the older boys.
"Listen, Father says he's been promoted. That means more money. Might end up in a better school."
Latimer looked up from the Latin book. "Ah, he should enjoy it, sir. My uncle had a six month posting in Johannesburg. Says it was the most beautiful countryside on God's Earth."
"What are you talking about?"
"Africa. Your father."
"Have you been reading my post?"
"What?"
"You said Africa. I've only just read the word myself! How did you know that?"
Fuming, he launched off the bed and shoved the younger boy up against the wall.
"I haven't."
"Have you been spying on me?"
"No. I just guessed."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"I'm good at guessing, that's all."
He dropped him, huffing. "Idiot."
"Sometimes I say things and they turn out to be correct. Just little things. Tiny things. I can't help it. It's just some sort of luck."
Baines rolled his eyes and got to his feet.
"Right, well, never mind that little toad. Who's for beer?"
"You've got beer?"
"No, but Baxter's hidden a secret supply in Blackdown woods."
"What are you waiting for?" He watched as Baines opened the window. "Make sure the Bursar's down the pub before you go past his window."
"Yes, I know. A bottle for everyone, is it?"
"And none for the filth. And hurry back, Baines, I'm parched."
Martha, a pint in each hand, grumbled the entire way from the bar to the table outside.
"Oh, it's freezing out here. Why can't we have a drink inside the pub?"
Jenny tutted. "Now don't be ridiculous. You do get these notions! It's all very well, those Suffragettes. but that's London. That's miles away."
"But don't you just want to scream sometimes, having to bow and scrape and behave. Don't you just want to tell them?"
"I don't know. Things must be different in your country."
"Yeah, well they are. Thank God I'm not staying."
"You keep saying that."
"Just you wait. One more month and I'm as free as the wind. I wish you could come with me, Jenny. You'd love it."
"Where are you going to go?"
"Anywhere. Just look up there. Imagine you could go all the way out to the stars."
"You don't half say mad things."
"That's where I'm going. Into the sky, all the way out." A brief flash of green caught her eye. "Did you see that?"
"See what?"
"Did you see it, though? Right up there, just for a second."
"Martha, there's nothing there."
Marion appeared from the direction of the village, an odd look on her face. "Martha, everything alright out here?"
"Did you see anything, just now?"
"I thought, maybe… but it's nothing, surely."
Both of them felt a growing fear as Joan appeared from the treeline, looking frantic. Martha reached out to steady her as she reached their table.
"Matron, are you all right?"
"Did you see that? There was something in the woods. This light."
As the four of them turned towards the sky again, John stepped out of the pub.
"Anything wrong, ladies? Far too cold to be standing around in the dark, don't you."
"There, there. Look in the sky."
They all saw the light crossing the sky, and had varying responses. Jenny's jaw dropped.
"Oh, that's beautiful."
John went into teacher mode. "All gone. Commonly known as a meteorite. It's just rocks falling to the ground, that's all."
Joan looked anxious. "It came down in the woods."
"No, no, no. No, they always look close, when actually they're miles off. Nothing left but a cinder. Now, I should escort you back to the school. Ladies?"
Martha was thoughtful, already having a theory as to what they had just seen.
"No, we're fine, thanks."
Joan shook her head. "That's very kind, but I need to retrieve my bicycle."
Marion nodded. "I'll come back with you. I was intending on returning soon anyway."
He took her by the arm. "Then I shall bid the rest of you goodnight."
They left as Joan went in the opposite direction, leaving Martha and Jenny alone.
"Jenny, where was that? On the horizon, where the light was headed."
"That's by Cooper's Field."
She nodded, starting off in the indicated direction.
"You can't just run off. It's dark. You'll break a leg. Martha!"
Reluctantly, she followed.
The green light caught his attention as Baines uncovered the stash of beer bottles. It settled against the ground, not too far from where he was, and faded. He stood, curious, and started out across the field.
"I say, hello? Was that some kind of aeroplane? You chaps all right?" And then he promptly bounced off something he couldn't see. He took a step back, shook his head, and tried again. He still couldn't walk past the invisible thing that blocked his path. "What? That's, that's impossible." Pressing his hands outwards tentatively, he slid them along sideways until he felt something shift. There was a clunk, and the next time he moved his hands, he felt a gap that was large enough to walk through.
"Some kind of door. Hello? Is anyone there?"
He didn't notice the door slide closed behind him - nor did he notice the arrival of Martha and Jenny. By the time they reached the edge of the trees, there was nothing left to see. Jenny huffed.
"There you are. Nothing there. I told you so."
"And that's Cooper's Field?"
"As far as the eye can see, and no falling star. Now come on, I'm frozen to the bone, let's go. As your Mister Smith says, nothing to see."
Inside the ship, Baines found himself huddling on the floor, a deep fear setting in his bones.
"But I don't understand. Who are you?"
He couldn't see the source of either of the voices that spoke to him - it almost felt like they were coming from inside his own head.
"We are the Family."
"Far more important, who are you, little thing?"
"My name's Baines. Jeremy Baines. Please can I go?"
"I'm so sorry, Baines Jeremy Baines, but I don't think you can ever leave."
He hated how timid he sounded. "But, who are you? Why can't I see you?"
"Why would you want to see us?"
"I want to know what you look like."
"Oh, that's easily answered, because very soon we will look so familiar."
And then came pain that crashed over him like an ocean, and he screamed so harshly that he thought his throat might burst.
The clock chimed, and Hutchinson huffed as he put down his hand of cards.
"Where is he? Promises us beer then vanishes into the night."
There was a knock on the window, and he grinned. "There he is. Let him in."
One of the other boys got up to open the window and he clambered in, moving stiffly.
"Baines, you dolt. I thought you'd been caught by the rozzers. Well, then? Where is it, man? Where's the blessed beer?"
"There was no beer. It was gone."
"Damn it all, I've been waiting. Pretty poor show, Baines, I have to say. What's the matter with you? Caught sniffles out there?"
He inhaled deeply. "Yes, I must have. It was cold. Very cold."
"Well, don't spread it about, I don't want your germs. Come on, might as well get some sleep. Come on, chaps. Maybe tomorrow. Jackson's got some beer in the pavilion."
Baines made eye contact with Latimer. The younger boy dropped his gaze, feeling suddenly uncomfortable.
He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but something felt very wrong.
Shivering, Martha unlocked the Tardis and stepped inside. It was late, but she had only just managed to convince Jenny to go back to the school without her.
"Hello." She scoffed at herself. "I'm talking to a machine."
She wrapped her arms around herself as she moved to fiddle with a couple of the controls near the scanner. Even the memory of what had happened in here - twice - was painful.
"Get down! They're following us. They can follow us wherever we go. Right across the universe. They're never going to stop. Martha, you trust me, don't you?"
"Of course I do."
"Because it all depends on you. Martha, this watch is me."
"Right, okay, gotcha. No, hold on. Completely lost."
"Those creatures are hunters. They can sniff out anyone, and me being a Time Lord, well, our rare status puts Romana and I in danger. They can track us down across the whole of time and space."
"Huh. And the good news is?"
"They can smell us, they haven't seen us. And their life span'll be running out, so we hide. Wait for them to die."
"But they can track us down."
"That's why I've got to do it. I have to stop being a Time Lord. We both do. We're going to become human."
A headset lowered from the ceiling, and he looked up at it nervously.
"Never thought I'd use this. All the times I've wondered."
Martha eyed it warily. "What does it do?"
"Chameleon Arch. Rewrites my biology. Literally changes every single cell in my body. I've set it to human."
Romana moved to the console, finishing the programming as he set the clamps in place around his skull. "The Tardis will invent an entire life story for the Doctor, right from birth all the way up to what he ate for dinner the night before waking up. She'll land us somewhere and come up with something off the cuff, she's good like that."
She frowned. "What about us?"
"There, it gets a little bit more complicated. Her connection to you isn't very strong because you're human, so she won't be able to create any kind of backstory. You'll have to come up with something for yourself, but I'll do my best to help you out."
"Ok, so what about you?"
Romana clipped the watch into the headset, brushing the Doctor's cheeks with her thumbs without even really realising it.
"I'm going to stay in here and lay low until I can piece together a strong enough perception filter to hide me without having to use the arch myself. It's not designed for two uses so close together. Besides, it'll help to have one conscious Time Lord on your side with this. Dealing with him as a human… it might not be easy."
She nodded, sort of understanding. "Okay, I get it. But, hold on. If you're going to rewrite every single cell, isn't it going to hurt?"
The Doctor, thumb settled over the start button, smiled sadly.
"Oh, yeah. It hurts."
Not long after that, the screaming had started.
She leant against the console, rubbing at her eyes. How had it all gone so wrong? Everything seemed so carefully set out, it had all made sense at the time. Sighing, she switched on the scanner and played the recording - for what was probably the millionth time. The Doctor appeared, the usual inane grin on his face.
"This working? Martha, before I change, here's a list of instructions for when I'm human. One, don't let me hurt anyone. We can't have that, but you know what humans are like. Two, don't worry about the Tardis. I'll put it on emergency power so they can't detect it. Just let it hide away. Four. No, wait a minute, three. No getting involved in big historical events. Four, you. Don't let me abandon you. And fi-"
She rolled her eyes, speeding through it. "But there was a meteor, a shooting star. What am I supposed to do then?"
"And twenty three. If anything goes wrong, if they find us, Martha, then you know what to do. Open the watch. Everything I am is kept safe in there. Now, I've put a perception filter on it so the human me won't think anything of it. To him, it's just a watch. But don't open it unless you have to. Because once it's open, then the Family will be able to find me. It's all down to you, Martha. Your choice. Oh, and thank you."
The recording stopped and she groaned, feeling a headache starting to bloom behind her eyes.
"I wish you'd come back. What's more, I wish Romana was here. At least she'd have a bit more common sense than you usually do."
The Doctor - or rather, the freshly human version of him - lay slumped on the floor of the ship, not moving. Romana knelt next to him, checking him over.
"He's alive. That's a good start. And we've landed in…" She trailed off for a moment, craning up to look at the scanner. "England, somewhere in the home counties by the looks of things. That's not so bad. And the year… 1913." She shot Martha an apologetic look. "Ah. Sorry. I knew it was sounding a bit too good to be true."
"1913? So before the first world war. That's not even a hundred years before my time."
"Yeah, but… well. We could've landed in a time that's a little less difficult for you."
She squeezed her friend's hand. "Hey, it's not your fault. This is clearly where the Tardis thought was best for us, so we'll just have to make do with it. I can manage."
The ginger Time Lord smiled, getting to her feet.
"Right, he's going to wake up soon, and it can't happen in here. By the looks of it, the ship's got him established as a teacher, so we must be near a school. Come on, let's get him out."
They struggled a little with his weight, but just about managed between the two of them to get him outside. It was a chilly, bright morning - the trees about them looked sparse, but not so bare that it could have been winter. They set him down by the wall of the little barn they had landed in, Romana darting back inside quickly to retrieve the luggage that the Tardis had created for him.
"I have to stay inside now, but I'll come and find you both as soon as I can, alright?"
Martha nodded. "Gotcha. Be careful."
"You too." And she ducked into safety again.
He had woken up quickly and was surprisingly lucid from the off; he accepted her explanation that he had stopped to rest and nodded off for a few moments with little argument, and continued in the direction of the school. It was obvious immediately that he wasn't himself; the Doctor she knew and admired was clearly gone. She found it easier to stay quiet, only speaking up when he asked her something directly - listening, she was able to get used to his new speech pattern and attitude, and school her own responses to match his own. It was difficult, but she felt sure she would be able to manage. As they reached the large grey buildings, she found herself hoping that Romana would be with her sooner rather than later.
The scanner chittered warningly, and Romana looked up from her pile of circuits.
"Oh, no! No, not yet! How close are they?"
The buzz she got in response was clear - no idea, but if I were you I wouldn't risk it.
She groaned, thumping her head against the edge of the console and glancing up at the Chameleon arch.
"Tell me there's another choice. Tell me I've got time to finish the filter."
Her answer was a low, creaking sigh.
"Ok then. Put my bags near the door. Once the transformation is complete, guide me outside and then shut down to emergency maintenance settings. Hide from their scanners just like we are, okay?"
The Tardis' response, this time, was tinged with concern for her secondary pilot.
"I know. This isn't what I wanted either. But there really isn't a choice anymore - if the Family are as close to us as you think, I need to hide now. And the arch is the only thing that will be fast enough." She sighed, taking a smaller version of the pocket watch the Doctor had used from a drawer under the console and clipped it into place. "Put it on a chain for me, okay? It'll be safest if I can wear it, I think."
She wriggled her way into the arch, tightening the arms over her skull and ignoring the way her hearts fluttered in panic.
"Well then. Here we go, I guess."
She pressed the button - and her world was enveloped in a white blanket of pain.
It had been nearly an hour and a half, and Martha was starting to get worried. John Smith had settled in well; the Tardis had done her job exceedingly well, and the staff at the school had been expecting his arrival. He was currently being taken on a tour of the building and to meet some of the students, while she had been left to change into a servant's uniform. She wasn't exactly happy about that part of the arrangement, but there wasn't exactly anything she could do about it.
"Ah, Martha! The two of you did make it here before me, then. That's good."
She turned, grinning at the sound of her friend's voice - and her jaw dropped. She was wearing a very period-current long dress in charcoal grey, and had tied her hair back in a low bun.
"Oh, Romana. You got everything sorted then?"
But the redhead blinked at her, a mix of confusion and amusement on her face.
"Dear me, the journey must have taken rather more out of you than expected. I did warn Mr Smith that it might be a taxing trip. It's Marion - Marion Thomas. Are you alright? You look a little shaky."
And at the sight of the small, circular locket around the woman's neck, understanding settled over Martha's shoulders like a cold wave.
And she realised that she was entirely alone.
Just over two months had passed, and things had gradually got easier, Martha thought. John Smith was still infuriatingly human, but Marion Thomas was far easier to be around. Maybe it was because of the short time between arch uses, or maybe it just affected some Time Lords differently from others, but she was convinced that there was a little sparkle every now and then of her friend's old self breaking through.
But it certainly wasn't all sunshine and roses.
She sat down against the console, patting the coral lovingly.
"Not much longer now. I hope."
John Smith opened the door of his study, and was greeted by a slightly nervous Timothy Latimer. "You told me to come and collect that book, sir."
"Good lad. Yes. Yes! The Definitive Account of Mafeking by Aitchison Price. Where did I put it? And I wanted a little word. Your marks aren't quite good enough."
"I'm top ten in my class, sir."
"Now, be honest, Timothy, you should be at the very top. You're a clever boy. You seem to be hiding it. Where is that book? And I know why. Keeping your head low avoids the mockery of your classmates. But no man should hide himself, don't you think?"
"Yes, sir."
As Mr Smith searched the shelves of the corner that served as a library, Timothy found himself drawn to the mantelpiece. At first, he wasn't sure what exactly had caught his interest - but then his eyes fell on the pocket watch.
"You're clever. Be proud of it. Use it."
He picked the watch up cautiously, feeling his head fill with whispers.
"Time Lord. Hide yourself."
"The secret lies within. I'm trapped. I'm kept inside the cogs."
"In the dark, waiting. Always waiting."
He tucked the watch into his pocket and the voices faded, just as Mr Smith returned with the book.
"Fascinating details about the siege. Really quite remarkable. Are you all right?"
"Yes, sir. Fine, sir."
"Right then. Good. And remember. Use that brain of yours."
He passed the book over, and an image flashed into Timothy's mind - Mr Smith, but not as he had ever seen him before. This version wore a striped brown suit and blue shirt, had wild hair, and held a strange sort of pen with a glowing blue tip. The vision faded, and he found himself being stared at by his teacher.
"You're really not looking yourself, old chap. Anything bothering you?"
"No, sir Thank you, sir."
Later that day, the shooting range was populated with boys of various ages, stationed in groups around mounted machine guns. John watched over them, keeping a beady eye on anyone who wasn't up to standard.
"Concentrate. Hutchinson, excellent work."
A voice from behind snapped sharply. "Cease fire!"
"Good day to you, Headmaster."
"Your crew's on fine form today, Mr Smith."
Hutchinson sneered. "Excuse me, Headmaster. We could do a lot better. Latimer's being deliberately shoddy."
The younger boy kept his eyes downcast. "I'm trying my best."
Mr Roscastle tutted. "You need to be better than the best. Those targets are tribesmen from the dark continent."
"That's exactly the problem, sir. They only have spears."
"Oh, dear me. Latimer takes it upon himself to make us realise how wrong we all are. I hope, Latimer, that one day you may have a just and proper war in which to prove yourself. Now, resume firing."
The gun started again, only running for a few moments before jamming. Hutchinson nudged him.
"Stoppage. Immediate action." When Timothy didn't move, he grabbed him by the ear. "Didn't I tell you, sir? This stupid boy is useless. Permission to give Latimer a beating, sir."
The headmaster shrugged. "It's your class, Mister Smith."
He nodded. "Permission granted."
Hutchinson grinned. "Right. Come with me, you little oik."
As he and his friends led the younger boy away, John watched - and felt a tickle run across his back as he made eye contact with a suspiciously quiet Baines.
"Anything the matter, Baines?"
"I thought… No, sir. Nothing, sir."
Mr Roscastle nodded as Joan and Marion appeared at the back wall.
"As you were, Mister Smith."
"Ah, Pemberton, Smythe, Wicks, take post."
He walked up to greet them, nodding politely.
"Ah, Nurse Redfern, Miss Thomas. Good afternoon."
Joan looked a little uncomfortable. "Er, I'll give you back your journal when next I see you."
"No, no, no. You don't have to-"
"If you'll excuse me, Mister Smith. I was just thinking about the day my husband was shot."
She turned on her heel, wiping at her eyes, and walked back to the school. There was a moment where she hesitated, as if she was hoping that he would call her back, but then she continued.
Marion offered him a smile. "Is everything alright?"
"Yes, fine. I thought you were teaching today?"
"Well," she laughed, "I was meant to be. But one of my earlier groups managed to cause a minor explosion - goodness knows how, it shouldn't have even been possible with the chemicals and equipment we were using! And so my classroom is currently being cleaned, and I have the rest of the afternoon to myself."
He smiled, an idea popping into his head. "Well then, why don't you accompany me on a walk through the village once my class has finished? I would appreciate the company."
"I would like that very much, Mr Smith."
The pair walked through Farringham, chatting amiably. They weren't quite arm in arm - although many of the onlookers assumed they soon would be. Marion sighed.
"I must admit, I find the idea of young boys being given such deadly weapons rather uncomfortable."
He frowned a little. "Don't you think discipline is good for them?"
"Does it have to be such military discipline? I mean, if there's another war those boys won't find it so amusing."
"Well, Great Britain is at peace, long may it reign."
"I read some of your journal. In one of your stories, you wrote about next year. Nineteen fourteen."
"That was just a dream."
"All those images of mud and wire. You told of a shadow. A shadow falling across the entire world."
"Well then, we can be thankful it's not true. And I'll admit mankind doesn't need warfare and bloodshed to prove itself. Everyday life can provide honour and valour, and let's hope that from now on this, this country can find its heroes in smaller places."
He trailed off a little, eyes focused on something in the distance. She followed his line of sight, seeing a few things at once. A woman on a bicycle. Two men struggling to lift a heavy piano on a thin rope. A woman pushing a pram.
"In the most ordinary of… of deeds."
In one swift move, he grabbed a cricket ball from the young lad standing next to him and threw it with all his might. It slammed into the scaffolding, sending a brick falling swiftly downwards to crash against a milk churn. The churn toppled over in front of the woman with the pram, forcing her to stop - just as the rope holding the piano snapped. The huge instrument dropped to the ground and shattered, harming no one.
He looked down at his own hand, bemused. "Lucky."
Marion raised an eyebrow. "That was luck? Well, I would hate to be on the opposite end of something you had actually planned then."
He grinned down at her, finally offering his arm.
"Marion Thomas, might I invite you to the village dance this evening, as my guest?"
She laughed, accepting it. "You extraordinary man. I would be delighted to."
The duo walked back towards the school along the cart tracks, Marion gently teasing him for his moment of heroics.
"You see, it's all becoming clear now. This Doctor from your fantastical stories is the man you'd like to be, doing impossible things with cricket balls."
"Well, I discovered a talent, that's certainly true."
"But the Doctor has an eye for the ladies."
"The devil!"
"A girl at every fireplace." For a fraction of a second, her own choice of words made her frown, but she brushed it off. It was hardly a common turn of phrase, but it seemed to make sense nonetheless.
"Ah, now, there I have to protest, Marion. That is hardly me, you know that."
"Says the man who has agreed to dance with me tonight."
He spotted something and set off into one of the fields, rather grateful for the opportunity to change the subject. "That scarecrow's all skewed."
As he adjusted it so that its arm sat back in its proper place, Marion poked at the sacking of its head.
"Ever the artist. Where did you learn to draw?"
"Gallifrey."
"Is that in… Ireland?"
He paused for a second, thinking. The word had come from nowhere, and yet it felt incredibly familiar. "Yes, it must be, yes."
"But you're not Irish?"
"Not at all, no. My father Sidney - you remember him, don't you? You met him briefly at the charity dinner we attended whilst we were at university. Well, he was a watchmaker from Nottingham, and my mother Verity was, er.. I don't think I ever told you, but she was a teacher. She had a great interest in the sciences."
"Oh. Well, us scientists are rather excellent company, even if I do say so myself."
"Right. Yes. Well, my work is done. What do you think?"
"It's a true masterpiece."
"All sorts of skills are coming to light today!"
They walked back towards the track, neither of them noticing the scarecrow's head shifting so it could watch them.
After much persuasion, John had managed to convince Marion to sit for him so he could draw her. She had tried her best to sit still, but couldn't keep from fidgeting every now and then. Sitting still had never been one of her strong suits. He had focused all his attention on every pencil stroke, smudging the soft charcoal with his thumb as he finished. He looked between her and the page for a moment, satisfied.
"Can I see? Or am I not permitted to look upon the works of the great John Smith?"
He moved to sit next to her, grinning at the sarcasm, and passed the little book over. Her jaw dropped.
"Oh, goodness, I… Do I look like that? Are you sure that's not me?" She pointed at a bug eyed monster on the opposite page, and he shook his head.
"Most definitely this page. Do you like it?"
"You've made me far too beautiful."
"Well, that's how I see you."
Her cheeks were dusted with pink. "I don't think anyone has ever called me beautiful before. Except perhaps my mother, but I don't think that really counts."
He brushed a wayward strand of hair away from her face.
"Well, the rest of the world must be blind then."
And he leant in and kissed her.
It was the smallest of moments, and he pulled back a little.
"I'm sorry, I,.. I've never…"
"It's alright. I… I haven't either."
Their lips met again, and he moved to cradle her face in his hands.
Martha, approaching the door to the study, was dismayed to see Nurse Redfern standing there already. But as she got closer, she could see the look on the woman's face - and her own heart started to sink.
"Matron? Is… is everything alright?"
The woman turned away, wiping the wetness off her cheeks. "Yes, thank you Martha. I… simply saw something that I rather wish I hadn't."
She walked off, shoulders shaking a little, and Martha moved to stand where she had been. And she understood what had upset her so much. There, through the space created by the half-open door, she could see her best friends, pressed together.
She turned away, an unidentifiable feeling weighing heavy in her stomach.
"That wasn't on the list."
Knowing she wouldn't be missed by anyone for a little while longer, she made the journey back to the Tardis. The first thing she did upon getting through the door was go for the scanner, playing the recording back again.
"Four. You. Don't let me abandon you."
"That's no good. What about the stuff you didn't tell me? What about women? Oh no, you didn't think of that. What in hell am I supposed to do then?" She groaned, running a hand over her face. "You had to, didn't you? You had to go and fall in love with someone else. And it wasn't me."
She sat down on the floor, pausing for a moment before laying back and staring up at the ceiling. Something had occurred to her.
"I suppose if it was going to be anyone, it would be Romana."
She'd seen the way he had looked at the redhead when he thought neither of them was paying attention, and the way he quickly changed his face so he wouldn't get caught in the act. She'd seen his eyes light up whenever she walked in the room, always making a point of saying something nice to her. She'd watched them from afar as they got lost in their memories, cosied up in random places in the Tardis like there was nobody in the world to worry about.
She'd seen this coming.
And part of her realised that her own feelings had been changing too. She saw both of them as her best friends now - and nothing more. She knew there was no way anything more could ever happen between her and the Doctor. Maybe, at one time, there might have been a chance, but now?
She got to her feet, feeling far more settled than she had done in a while. She knew that she had to be there for her friends - and that the second they were back to normal, she'd be doing her damned best to set them up properly.
Playing cupid for the last two Time Lords in the universe wasn't exactly how she'd pictured her adventures going.
Upon returning to the school she'd had a stroke of luck, and moved to sit up in the servant's quarters to wait for Jenny. When she eventually arrived, Martha grinned.
"There you are. Come and look what I've got. Mister Poole didn't want his afternoon tea so Cook said I could have it. And there's enough for two. What are you standing there for?" The woman sniffed deeply, and she frowned a little. "Are you all right?"
Jenny shrugged as she came to sit down. "I must have a cold coming on."
"The problem is, I keep thinking about them, but I don't know what to do."
"Thinking about who?"
"Mister Smith and Miss Thomas. Because they've known each other for so long that it should make sense, but they'll be moving on from here soon. And I think everything will change."
"Why?"
"It's like… their contracts come to an end. I think hearts will end up broken when they leave, because nobody knows where they'll end up next."
"Leave for where?"
"All sorts of places. I wish I could tell you, Jenny, but it's complicated."
"In what way?"
"I just can't."
"It sounds so interesting. Tell me. Tell me now."
Suspicions rising, Martha decided to test out her theory. "Would you like some tea?"
"Yes, thanks."
"I could put a nice bit of gravy in the pot. And some mutton. Or sardines and jam. How about that?"
"I like the sound of that."
"Right. Hold on a tick."
Moving slowly at first, she left the servant's quarters, breaking into a run as soon as she was out of Jenny's eyeshot.
Marion shuffled on the spot, feeling a little awkward as John looked her up and down in awe. She had changed into a new dress for the party - a long emerald green gown with three quarter length sleeves and a paler bodice panel.
"You look wonderful."
She grinned. "You'd best give me some warning. Can you actually dance?"
"I'm not certain."
"There's a surprise. Is there anything you're certain about?"
"Yes. Yes."
He took her hands and smiled softly at her, lacing their fingers together.
Unfortunately, the moment was shattered by Martha bursting through the door, breathless and visibly panicked.
"They've found us."
He groaned. "Martha, I've warned you."
"They've found us, and I've seen them. They look like people, like us, like normal. I'm sorry, but you've got to open the watch." She moved to grab it from the mantelpiece, but her fingers closed around empty air. "Where is it? Oh, my God. Where's it gone? Where's the watch?"
"What are you talking about?"
"You had a watch. A fob watch. Right there."
"Did I? I don't remember."
"But we need it. Oh, my God, Doctor, we're hiding from aliens, and they've got Jenny and they've possessed her or copied her or something, and you've got to tell me, where's the watch?"
A knowing look crossed his face, and he reached for the book.
"Oh, I see. Cultural differences. It must be so confusing for you. Martha, this is what we call a story."
"Oh you complete… This is not you. This is nineteen thirteen."
"Good. This is nineteen thirteen."
Marion looked rather uncomfortable. "John, I really don't see the need for you to talk to her like that."
Martha sighed. "I'm sorry. I'm really sorry, but I've got to snap you out of this." And she slapped him around the face, hard. "Wake up! You're coming back to the Tardis with me."
He shoved her away. "How dare, how dare you! I'm not going anywhere with an insane servant! Martha, you are dismissed. You will leave these premises immediately. Now get out!" He pushed her out into the corridor, fuming. "The nerve of it. The absolute cheek. You think I'm a fantasist? What about her?"
Marion shook her head. "I don't think that was necessary. Or particularly kind of you. She's clearly concerned for you, for whatever reason, and you shut her down without even listening!"
"She was talking nonsense!"
"Not about the watch. You did have one, a bronze fob, maybe twice the size of my locket charm. And it used to sit in exactly the spot that she indicated. Don't you remember?"
Martha was barely aware of anyone around her as she ran in the direction of the barn where the Tardis was hiding, only just registering the fact that she had collided with the young Latimer boy.
"Oh, sorry! Sorry."
"Martha?"
"Not now, Tim. Busy!"
She hadn't noticed the strange look on his face. Because he had seen her - but not as a maid. In the image that had flashed before his eyes, she had been wearing trousers and a shirt underneath a long white coat, and had a stethoscope draped around her neck. The picture was gone as soon as it appeared, and he continued to watch her as she vanished behind the buildings.
Making a beeline for the ship, she grabbed the Doctor's long coat and rifled through the pockets, trying to find the watch. But she found something else - something that could prove just as useful.
John and Marion had walked most of the way to the village hall in silence, the incident sitting between them heavily. As the building came into view, she stopped, taking him by the arm.
"Look, I don't agree with what just happened - certainly not with what you said to her. But you invited me out tonight so that we could enjoy each other's company. Can't we just do that for a little while?"
He looked down at her and smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.
"Of course. Am I momentarily forgiven, Miss Thomas?"
"Well, Mr Smith, that's rather a bold move for such a public place! But yes, for now."
He brightened up as they reached the doorway and were approached by an older man holding a small cup.
"Spare a penny for the veterans of the Crimea, sir?"
"Yes, of course. There you are."
And they stepped inside. The party was already in full swing, with the band just setting up to play their next song. The dance floor was already half full.
"Ladies and gentlemen. Please take your partners for a waltz."
He put a hand at her waist and took her other one in his own, and they followed the music gently. Her smile widened.
"You can dance!"
"You sound so surprised!"
His remark was badly timed - they bumped into another couple, giggling as they apologised.
"Sorry."
"Yes, sorry."
Bargaining chip in hand, Martha stalked up to the entrance of the village hall. The man standing there waved a finger.
"Oh, staff entrance, I think, Miss."
"Yeah? Well, think again, mate."
She barged past him, scanning the room for her targets. John was standing at the refreshments table, chatting to a handful of people she vaguely recognised. Marion was sat alone at a small table, watching the dancers. So she headed there first, sitting down opposite her.
"I'm sorry about what happened earlier, Martha. It wasn't fair."
"You know something's wrong, don't you? That something's different about him… and about you."
Marion nodded. "I've been dreaming too. They fade as soon as I wake, but those stories in his journal are too close to what my mind has been creating for it to be a coincidence. I may not understand entirely what is happening right now - but I believe you. I promise."
Joan approached them, shooting a look at Martha. "I heard about what happened this afternoon. You've got some nerve showing up here after that."
"Nurse Redfern, really, that isn't necessary. I am happy for Martha to be here, alright?"
Martha turned, trying to make her see reason.
"He's different from any other man you've ever met, right?"
"Yes."
"And sometimes he says these strange things, like people and places you've never heard of, yeah? But it's deeper than that. Sometimes when you look in his eyes you know, you just know that there's something else in there. Something hidden. Right behind the eyes, something hidden away in the dark."
"I don't know what you mean."
"Yes, you do. I don't mean to be rude, but the awful thing is it doesn't even matter what you think. But you're nice. And I just wanted to say sorry for what I'm about to do."
John returned to the table, his face falling as he saw who had arrived.
"Oh, now really, Martha. This is getting out of hand. I must insist that you leave."
Marion grabbed his wrist.
"No, please, let her talk. I think it's important."
She held up the sonic screwdriver. "Do you know what this is? Name it. Go on, name it."
Joan pulled a face at the device. "John, what is that silly thing? John?"
As he took the screwdriver, wonder in his eyes, she continued.
"You're not John Smith. You're called the Doctor. The man in your journal, he's real. He's you."
There was a burst of activity and scattered exclamations as a group of three people walked into the room - an older man, Jenny, Baines, and a little girl holding a red balloon. They were followed, impossibly, by a huddle of scarecrows. The man shouted.
"There will be silence! All of you! I said, silence!"
One of the men approached them cautiously. "Mister Clarke, what's going on?"
Without a word, Mr Clarke raised a bizarre looking weapon and fired - the man vanished into a cloud of atoms.
Martha hissed under her breath. "Mister Smith? Everything I told you, just forget it! Don't say anything."
Baines took the lead. "We asked for silence! Now then, we have a few questions for Mister Smith."
From behind them, a little girl piped up, a cold smile on her face.
"No, better than that. The teacher. He's the Doctor. I heard them talking."
"You took human form."
John looked baffled. "Of course I'm human. I was born human, as were you, Baines. And Jenny, and you, Mister Clark. What is going on? This is madness!"
"Ooh, and a human brain, too. Simple, thick and dull."
Jenny huffed. "Butt he's no good like this."
My Clarke eyed him greedily. "We need a Time Lord."
Baines took a step forwards, raising his own gun. "Easily done. Change back. Or, give us the other one."
He shook his head. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Change back! We may not have seen her face, but we know there was another Time Lord present with you! Where is she?"
"I literally do not know-"
His words stopped in his throat as Jenny grabbed Martha, holding the gun to her throat.
"Get off me!"
"She's your friend, isn't she? Doesn't this scare you enough to change back?"
He floundered. "I don't know what you mean!"
Jenny's smile widened. "Wait a minute. The maid told me about Smith and the science teacher. That woman, there. It's her."
And Mr Clarke grabbed Marion, holding his weapon up. She looked surprisingly calm for someone who was at imminent risk of death.
Baines sneered.
"Have you enjoyed it, Doctor, being human? Has it taught you wonderful things? Are you better, richer, wiser? Then let's see you answer this. Which one of them do you want us to kill? Maid or colleague? Your friend or your lover? Your choice."
See you soon, and happy reading!
Much love,
Azzie xx