John Smith awoke that morning from a dream that had him completely perplexed. He blinked a little before sitting up and looking at his dresser and the journal he had hidden inside. It was one of the most vivid dreams yet. But still . . .
He shook his head when there was a knock on the door. "Come in!" he called.
His maid, Martha, walked in with a breakfast tray. She took one look and quickly turned away. "Pardon me, Mr. Smith," she said, sounding flustered. "You're not dressed yet. I can come back later."
"No, it's all right," he assured her, standing and putting on a dressing gown. "It's all right. Put it down." Martha did, and hesitantly turned back. "I was, er . . . sorry, sorry. Sometimes I have these extraordinary dreams."
"What about, sir?" Martha asked as she drew the curtains back.
"I dream I'm this adventurer," John replied. "This daredevil. A madman. The Doctor, I'm called. And last night, I dreamed you were there as my companion. And Miss Rossini, too, as someone like the Doctor, but not quite the Doctor. Half goddess, she was. She was called the Bad Wolf."
"A teacher, a housemaid, and a librarian, sir?" Martha laughed. "That's impossible."
"I'm a man from another world, though, and Miss Rossini was born on this world, but transformed to someone from another."
"Well, it can't be true, because there's no such thing."
John frowned, approaching the mantle, eyeing the silver and the gold fob watches on it. "These things," he murmured. "These watches are . . . " He picked the silver one up, wondering what he was trying to remember, before putting it back. "Ah, it's funny how dreams slip away," he commented. "But I do remember one thing. It all took place in the future. In the Year of Our Lord, two thousand and fifteen."
"I can prove that wrong for you, sir," Martha told him with a smile, picking up a newspaper and handing it to him. "Here's the morning paper. It's Monday, November 10th, 1913, and you're completely human, sir. As human as they come."
"Mm, that's me," John agreed with a smile. "Completely human."
***
Johanna Rossini watched the two boys she had picked out stack history books on her shelves, and she smiled, folding her arms and watching. She frowned a little as she remembered the dreams she'd been having recently, and she shook her head to get rid of them, checking to make sure her hair was still pinned in place.
There was a knock on the library door, and she turned. "Come in!"
Martha walked in with a tray of tea. "Here you go, miss," she told her.
"Ah, thank you!" Johanna beamed, taking the tray. "How's your Mr. Smith doing?"
"Doing well, miss, thank you," Martha replied before hesitating. "Why the interest, if you don't mind me asking?"
Johanna shook her head. "You'll think I'm mad," she commented.
Martha smiled. "If it's anything I heard from Mr. Smith this morning, I might."
Johanna laughed a little. "I've been having these dreams recently," she began, missing the way Martha stiffened. "I'm this woman that is considered a goddess, even when she is not." She grinned. "Who's afraid of the big Bad Wolf? I know I am." She shook her head. "A woman who can walk through walls and control fire and air, and has seen the cogs of time and wields space in her hands. And she travels with a man called the Doctor, who looks remarkably like Mr. Smith." She chuckled, shaking her head. "Actually, just last night, you were in one."
"A teacher, a housemaid, and a librarian?" Martha asked with a laugh. "Now I know people in this place are going mad. Mr. Smith has been having the same dreams."
"Has he?" Johanna asked in surprise before chuckling. "Maybe we should compare them some time."
"Maybe," Martha mused. "Have a good day, Miss Rossini."
"You, too, Martha," Johanna replied, watching her go, before frowning at the two boys, who had stopped and were looking at her expectantly. She checked the shelves and nodded. "Dismissed," she told them crisply, and they left for class. She sighed, checking the paper. "Not the Year of Our Lord, two thousand fifteen, then," she mused. She smiled. "And completely human." She shook her head. "I really am mad," she commented before sitting down at her desk and flipping through cards from the library.
Who owed her books today?
***
"Morning, sir," Martha greeted John as he walked by.
"Yes, hi," John replied absently as he went up the stairs.
Martha shook her head as she cleaned the floors with her friend, Jenny. "Head in the clouds, that one," Jenny commented, shaking her head. "Don't know why you're so sweet on him."
"He's just kind to me, that's all," Martha replied. "Not everyone's that considerate, what with me being - " She pointed to her face.
"A Londoner?" Jenny asked, deliberately misinterpreting.
Martha laughed. "Exactly! Good old London Town!"
Two boys, two who Martha definitely did not like, Jeremy Baines and his friend, Hutchinson, stopped in front of them. "Er, now the, you two," Baines told them. "You're not paid to have fun, are you? Put a little backbone into it!"
Jenny bowed her head. "Yes, sir," she apologized, scrubbing harder. "Sorry, sir."
"You there," Hutchinson said, nodding at Martha. "What's your name again?"
"Martha, sir," she replied. "Martha Jones."
"Tell me then, Jones," Hutchinson asked with a sneer. "With hands like those, how can you tell when something's clean?"
"Well," an Australian accented voice said above them, and Martha could've cheered at the wide-eyed look in the boys' eyes. "It would help that the floor is a completely different color, wouldn't it, Jones?"
"Yes, ma'am," Martha replied with a smile as Johanna descended down the stairs, blue eyes locked on the boys.
"Now, let's see," Johanna mused, flicking through a few cards she was carrying. "Ah, yes! I have quite a few stacks in the English literature section that must be organized." She looked up at Baines and Hutchinson. "I want them all up fast as you can. No asking any other students to help you. Understood?"
"Miss Rossini," Baines began, "that's not fair!"
"So you're saying I should let you pick on members of the staff who wait on you hand and foot and do everything they're told, and in return, you pick on them like bilgesnipe?"
Baines blinked. "Bilgesnipe, miss?"
Johanna blinked before shaking her head. "My point being, Baines, I will not stand it. Up you go."
The two boys headed up the stairs, and Martha smiled at Johanna, although on the inside, she was panicking a little. "Bilgesnipe, Miss Rossini?"
"Oh, dear," Johanna sighed. "Now I'm beginning to sound like that madwoman." She smiled. "Have a good day."
"You as well, miss," Jenny told her, smiling as she walked back up the stairs before turning to Jenny. "I wish there were women like that for every man," she sighed happily. "Just think, though. In a few years time, boys like that'll be running the country."
"1913," Martha mused, thinking to the next year. "They might not."
***
John was walking down a corridor near the top of the building, a tall stack of books in his arms, when there was a voice in front of him. "Those wouldn't happen to be some of my books, would they be, Mr. Smith?"
John dropped some of the books in astonishment, but with surprisingly quick reflexes, Johanna grabbed them. "Whoops," she commented with a grin. "There we go!"
"No harm done," John agreed with a smile. "I can take those back."
"Now, John, even when they're mine?" she chided with a smile. "Tell you what, I'll take half."
"Ah, brilliant idea," John agreed with a smile. "Brilliant! Perfect! Division of labor."
"We make quite a team," Johanna agreed with a smile.
"Stuff of legend," John agreed before frowning.
But Johanna grinned at him. "I was about to say the same thing!"
"Really?" John asked brightly as they walked down a corridor. "What a coincidence!"
Johanna beamed at him before noticing something at the top of the stairwell. "Huh," she muttered. "Village dance at the hall." She made a face. "Are you going?"
"I hadn't thought about it," he admitted.
"Joan might appreciate it," she said thoughtfully. "Not me, though. I think the world might implode if I dance."
John stared at her as she quoted words from his dreams he remembered the Bad Wolf saying, and he nervously backed to the stairs. "Well, there's no reason why you shouldn't!"
Johanna's eyes widened. "The stairs."
He frowned. "What about the stairs?"
"They're right - !"
John was caught off when he tripped down the stairs, and Johanna raced after him. "Behind you!" she finished lamely.
***
Joan slapped John's hand away as he tried to reach up to his head. "Stop it," she warned him. "I get boys causing less fuss than this!"
"Because it hurts!" John whined.
The door to the room opened, and both Johanna and Martha came in. "Miss Jones wanted to know if you were all right," Johanna began.
"They said you fell down the stairs, sir," Martha said.
"No, it was just a tumble, that's all," John denied.
"It was a fall," Johanna corrected.
"Tumble."
"Fall."
"Tumble."
"Fall!"
"Have you checked for concussion?" Martha interrupted.
"I have," Joan replied with a sniff. "And I daresay I know a lot more about it than you."
Martha nodded. "Sorry. I'll just . . . tidy your things."
"Miss Rossini?" John asked, and Johanna tilted her head. "I wanted to tell you something."
"Are there books you have taken from me without letting me know?" Johanna teased.
John cleared his throat. "None that I know of. But . . . I have been having these dreams of late. I keep imagining that I'm someone else, and that I'm hiding."
Johanna's eyes widened. "In what way?"
"They're almost every night. This is going to sound silly - "
"I live around books, Mr. Smith. I will not judge."
"Well . . . I dream quite often that I have two hearts."
Johanna raised an eyebrow. "Oh?" She looked up at Joan. "Matron, can you determine whether this notion is true?"
Joan smiled and used her stethoscope and took a listen. She smiled. "I can confirm the diagnosis. Just one heart. Singular."
"But it is weird," Johanna mused. "I have been having similar dreams."
John's eyes widened. "Have you?"
"Yes," Johanna agreed. "It's quite weird, believe it or not. It is all in the future, in the Year of Our Lord - "
"Twenty fifteen," they finished together, looking at each other with wide eyes.
Joan smiled at them. "I will let you two finish this discussion," she told them, packing up and leaving.
John cleared his throat. "I have, er . . . I have written down some of these dreams in the form of fiction. Not that it would be of any interest."
"I say it again, Mr. Smith, I live around books," Johanna told him. "I would be very interested."
"Well, I've never actually shown it to anyone, before," John admitted, pulling out a journal from inside one of his dresser drawers.
Johanna sat down and took it, and smiled at the inside cover. "A Journal of Impossible Things," she read with a smile before beginning to flip through the pages. "John, these are amazing!" she gasped as she raked her gaze over it all, smiling. "So familiar to me."
"You recognize them?" Martha asked.
"Yes," Johanna breathed. "All of these, I've seen them in my own." She grinned, pointing at a sketch of a young woman with dark hair tucked in tight braids and a light jacket. "Even her." She furrowed her eyebrows. "Jessie Nightshade . . . "
"Seems to disappear later on," John told her.
"Yes, but . . . I think that's because . . . " She flipped the page and smiled when she saw Jessie on the page, back to back with a drawing of her. "She becomes me." She laughed. "What do you know? I think we have been having the same dreams, Mr. Smith."
"Indeed," John laughed before pointing to the magic box. "The blue box is always there. Like a magic carpet. This funny little box that transports me to faraway places."
"Like a doorway," Johanna agreed. She turned to a page of sketches of many men, and she smiled softly. "If only these lives were real."
"They're just dreams," John agreed as Johanna looked at the fob watches on the next page. "I would like you to read the rest of it."
Johanna looked up, and she smiled. "Thank you, Mr. Smith."
"John," he corrected her. She tilted her head. "John. That's my name."
Johanna smiled. "John, then." She nodded. "And Johanna." She held the book up. "I look forward to reading this."
***
Martha ran after Johanna after she left. "Ma'am?" she asked. "That book - "
"I'll look after it, Martha," Johanna told her, turning back. "It's just the dreams . . . "
"I know," Martha replied. "Just . . . " She sighed, not knowing what to say.
"Who is he, Martha? And who am I?"
Martha blinked. "I'm sorry?"
"Mr. Smith," Johanna told her, nodding. "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." She shook her head. "And me . . . we share the exact same dreams."
"Maybe it's just you," Martha guessed, beginning to panic a little.
"And we arrived here around the same time," Johanna murmured. "The exact same time . . . " She sighed, shaking her head. "Oh, my head," she whispered and walked off.
Martha stared after her, worried.
Was she beginning to question who she was?"
***
"Oo, it's freezing out here," Martha complained as she brought out pints for her and Jenny. "Why can't we have a drink inside the pub?"
"Now, don't be ridiculous!" Jenny scoffed. "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?" Martha asked. "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."
Martha smiled softly. "Just you wait. One more month, and I'm as free as the wind. I wish you could come with me, Jenny," she added truthfully. "You'd love it."
"Where are you going to go?" Jenny asked curiously.
"Anywhere," Martha replied, looking up. "Just look up there! Imagine you could go all the way out to the stars!"
"Oh, not you, too!" a voice commented, and Martha looked up, startled, as Johanna walked out of the pub, her light blue dress covered by a black cloak. "First it's me and Mr. Smith, and now you!"
"Sorry, miss," Martha apologized quickly.
"You don't half say mad things," Jenny commented.
"Did you see that?" Johanna asked suddenly, looking straight up.
"See what?" Jenny asked in surprise, looking up as well, and Martha bolted up in her seat.
"Right up there, just for a second," Johanna insisted, pointing.
"Miss Rossini, there's nothing there," Jenny told her.
Joan suddenly ran through, and Martha frowned at her. "Matron? Are you all right?"
"Did you see that?" Joan panted. "There was something in the woods, this light!"
"Anything wrong, ladies?" John asked as he joined them, standing next to Johanna. "Far too cold to be standing around in the dark, don't you?"
"There!" Johanna shouted, pointing up. "There! Look in the sky!"
Martha caught the light going across, and her eyes widened. "Oh, that's beautiful!" Jenny gasped.
"All gone," John commented. "Commonly known as a meteorite. It's just rocks falling to the ground. That's all."
"It came down in the woods," Joan insisted.
"No, no, no," John told her, shaking his head. "No, they always look close, when actually, they're miles off. Nothing left but a cinder. Now, I should escort you to the school. Ladies?"
"No, we're fine," Martha said quickly. "Thanks."
John nodded, putting on his hat. "Then I shall bid you good night."
***
"I kept reading the journal," Johanna told John as they walked. "It appears that the Doctor and the Bad Wolf rather dislike each other."
"It is an argument," John replied with a grimace. "He does not believe she is truly the same person she was."
"Well, I'm not going to go and change," Johanna joked before nodding to the Matron. "Are you attending the village dance that's coming up, Joan?"
"If someone asks, I may," Joan replied. "But no one has asked."
"You could find out if John does, if I may be so bold to say," Johanna teased.
"You are not going?" Joan asked in surprise.
Johanna shook her head. "No," she replied. "I am no dancer, I'm afraid. I may drop by, but I will not dance."
John considered her, then turned to Joan. "Then, Joan, if I may ask, would you like to accompany me to the dance as a guest?"
Joan smiled. "I will, Mr. Smith."
Johanna smiled as they walked, but as they went, it slowly faded as she thought about what she had just set up. And there was something in her stomach that she thought she shouldn't have been feeling.
Was it . . . jealousy?
Suddenly, she was wishing she hadn't said what she had.
***
Martha rode her bike down to an old barn just outside of the school property She stepped inside, smiling softly when she saw the TARDIS. She unlocked it and stepped inside, and she sighed. "Hello," she whispered before blinking. "I'm talking to a machine."
She turned a monitor towards her, and she looked at the video the Doctor had recorded. "This working?" he asked, tapping the camera. "Martha, before we change, here's a list of instructions for when we're human. One: don't let me hurt anyone. Or Bad Wolf. 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: don't let us abandon you. And fi - "
Martha began to fast forward. "But there was a meteor!" she insisted. "A shooting star! What am I supposed to do then?"
"And twenty three," the Doctor finished. "If anything goes wrong, if they find us, Martha, then you know what to do. Open my watch. Everything that we are is kept safe in those, and I want mine opened first. Now, I've put perception filters on them so the human us won't think think anything of it. To them, they're just watches. But don't open mine 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." He stood and went around before quickly popping back. "Oh, and thank you."
Martha sighed as the monitor turned off. "Oh, I wish you'd both come back!"
***
Timothy Latimer knocked on Mr. Smith's door, and the history teacher opened it up. "You told me to come and collect that book, sir," Latimer said.
"Good lad!" the Doctor exclaimed. "Yes, yes! The Definitive Account of Mafeking by Aitchison Price." He turned, musing. "Where did I put it?"
"With your shelves, Mr. Smith," Miss Rossini commented from where she was scouring the other shelves, "anywhere. Good afternoon, Timothy."
"Good afternoon, Miss Rossini," he replied.
"And I wanted a little word," Mr. Smith added. "Your marks aren't quite good enough."
"I'm top ten in my class, sir," Latimer said, feigning confusion.
"Now, be honest, Timothy," John told him as he looked around. "You should be the very top. You're a clever boy. You seem to be hiding it. Where is that book?" he muttered. "Miss Rossini, have you found it?"
"I'm still looking for mine!"
"But 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," Latimer replied, when two watches on the mantle caught his eye. He stepped forward, looking at them: one silver, the other gold. "You're clever," Mr. Smith's voice whispered, but it sounded . . . different. "Be proud of it. Use it!"
Latimer picked both watches up, and instantly a stronger voice hit him, Miss Rossini's, only with a stronger accent. "Time Lords," she said. "Hide yourself!"
"The secret lies within. I'm trapped. I'm kept inside the cogs."
Latimer snapped the watches open. "In the dark, waiting," Mr. Smith said. "Always waiting."
"Hide us," Miss Rossini said. "Hide us, Timothy!"
Latimer closed the watches and put them into his pocket as Mr. Smith returned. "Fascinating details about the siege," he commented, holding the book. "Really quite remarkable." He frowned. "Are you all right?"
"Yes, sir," Latimer replied quickly. "Fine, sir."
"Right then," Mr. Smith agreed. "Good. And remember, use that brain of yours."
"Power of a Time Lord," the woman whispered.
Mr. Smith handed Latimer the book, and suddenly, Latimer saw him wearing a brown pinstripe suit wielding a metal device with a blue tip. "You're really not looking yourself today, old chap," John commented. "Anything bothering you?"
"No, sir," Latimer replied. "Thank you, sir."
He turned to go when he bumped into Miss Rossini. "Oh, pardon me, Timothy," she said cheerfully, but Latimer stared at her when images rushed through her head of an entirely different woman, someone wearing white gold armor, her eyes crackling with energy as she swung what appeared to be lightning at an enemy. She frowned. "Are you all right?"
"Yes, miss," he replied quickly, and left.
He ran for the dormitory and set the book down before opening the watches again. "You are not alone," the man he knew now to be the Doctor whispered. "Keep her hidden."
"Keep him safe," the woman he knew to be the Bad Wolf added.
***
John watched over the boys as they started their firing practice, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Johanna and Joan on the upper balcony. "Concentrate!" he warned his boys. He smiled when he saw one boy in particular shooting well. "Hutchinson, excellent work!" he praised.
"Cease fire!" a shout from behind them called, and John turned to see Headmaster Rocastle approach, and to his shock, Johanna was close behind. "Lady on the field!"
"Good day to you, Headmaster," he greeted. "Miss Rossini."
"Mr. Smith," Johanna greeted, and he was taken aback by the pale look on her face as she looked over the boys.
"Your crew's on fine form today, Mr. Smith," Rocastle commented.
"Excuse me, Headmaster," Hutchinson interrupted. "We could do a lot better. Latimer's being deliberately shoddy."
"I'm trying my best," Latimer insisted.
"You need to be better than the best," Rocastle told him.
"You can't blame him for that, though," Johanna told him, her voice considerably hoarser as she looked around at the guns. "Sometimes that's all you can do."
Rocastle ignored her. "Those targets are tribesmen from the dark continent."
"That's exactly the problem, sir," Latimer pointed out. "They only have spears."
"Oh, dear me," Rocastle sighed. "Latimer takes it upon himself to make us realize how wrong we all are." He shook his head. "I hope, Latimer, that one day you may have a just and proper war in which to prove yourself. Now, resume firing."
"Are you all right?" John asked Johanna quietly as the boys continued to fire.
"I don't know," she whispered. "In the journal, the Bad Wolf knew how to shoot expertly, but looking around at them all . . . "
They were brought back when one gun stopped firing. Hutchinson sneered. "Stoppage. Immediate action." He stood up. "Didn't I tell you, sir? This stupid boy is useless! Permission to give Latimer a beating, sir?"
Rocastle turned to John. "It's your class, Mr. Smith."
John opened his mouth to reply when he saw blanched look on Johanna's face again. He shook his head. "Permission denied," he replied. "Latimer, perhaps Miss Rossini could find you evening's work with her books."
Latimer nodded. "Understood, sir."
John nodded, then noted Baines sniffing and looking at him oddly. "Anything the matter, Baines?" he asked.
"I thought . . . " Baines replied before shaking his head. "No, sir. Nothing, sir."
John watched him leave, and then Rocastle nodded. "As you were, Mr. Smith."
"Ah," John replied, then turned to the boys. "Pemberton, Smythe, Wicks, take post!" He turned to Johanna as they went to the guns. "Come with me," he whispered. "A walk in the village. It'll do you good."
Johanna merely swallowed and let him lead her off. Neither of them noticed the odd way Baines was still watching them, nor the pained look on Joan's face, nor Martha watching from the top of the school, a sad smile on her face.
***
"I don't know what it was," Johanna whispered as they walked through the village. "But, for some reason, I seem to be at ease with the men, but I don't like the guns." She laughed. "And yet I find myself as part of a school watching boys learn how to kill."
"Don't you think discipline is good for them?" John asked.
Johanna shrugged. "While some of those boys find it amusing, if there's another war, they won't find it so amusing."
"Well, Great Britain is at peace," John replied. "Long may it reign."
"But in your journal, and in my dreams, there is next year. 1914."
"That was just a dream."
"Images of mud and fire," she whispered. "A shadow. A shadow falling across the entire world."
She shuddered. She had lied to John. She didn't know what had made her do it, but she had. Those guns . . . she felt completely at ease. For some reason, it was the boys that scared her. But those guns . . . she felt like she knew how to use one.
That terrified her.
"Well, then, we can be thankful it's not true," John mused. "And I'll admit mankind doesn't need warfare and bloodshed to prove itself. Everyday life can provide honor and valor, and let's hope that from now on, this . . . this country can find its heroes in smaller places . . . in the most . . . "
Johanna frowned, seeing his eyes flick back and forth. "John?"
"Ordinary . . . of deeds . . . ball!" he suddenly shouted.
Johanna reacted instantly, grabbing a cricket ball from one of the boys nearby and pitched it to John, who threw the ball at scaffolding nearby. She watched as a chain reaction went off, a milk churn dropping in front of a woman and her baby, while just a few feet further, the rope holding a piano up finally ripped, and the piano crashed to pieces. Had they been off just a split second, those two would have been crushed. "By all that's holy!" she gasped.
"Lucky," John said in surprise.
Johanna laughed. "John, that was incredible!"
John laughed. "Stuff of legend, aren't I right?"
"Aren't we just?" Johanna laughed with him as they walked on through the village.
***
"So is that who the Doctor and the Bad Wolf are?" Johanna asked. "The woman who pitches the balls to the Doctor, and they do incredible things with them?"
"Well, I discovered a talent, that's certainly true," John chuckled.
"But the Doctor has an eye for the ladies," she teased.
"The devil," he muttered.
Johanna smiled, remembering a dream of hers, back when she had been that woman she'd seen in his journal . . . Jessie. "A girl at every fire place."
"Ah, now, there I have to protest, Johanna," John interrupted. "That is hardly me!"
"Says the man who is spending time with the librarian when he has a dance with the nurse tonight."
"That scarecrow's all skewed," John commented, moving to fix the arm of a scarecrow nearby.
Johanna smiled and watched him. "Ever an artist, you are," she praised. "Where did you learn to draw."
"Gallifrey," he replied absently.
Johanna frowned, the name ringing a bell, but she didn't know from where. "Is that in Ireland?" she asked.
"Yes, it must be. Yes."
"But you're not Irish."
"Not at all, no," John assured her. "My father, Sidney, was a watchmaker from Nottingham, and my mother, Verity, was . . . er . . . well, she was a nurse, actually."
Johanna laughed. "Carry on the tradition, and marry Joan, then!"
"Really?" John asked, and Johanna for some reason felt a little bit of satisfaction when he immediately went off topic. "Right. Yes." He finished with the scarecrow and stepped back, now fixed. "Well, my work is done. What do you think?"
"Masterpiece," she replied.
John grinned. "All sorts of skills today!"
***
Johanna bent over the stack of books in John's study, looking through her cards. "I thought you still had some," she muttered before looking up to see John bent over his journal. She raised an eyebrow. "What are you doing?"
He smiled at her. "Come and see."
Johanna straightened and went to sit by him, and her eyes widened at the detailed sketch of her with the books, and she smiled softly. "Oh, goodness," she whispered. "Do I look like that?" She pointed to the creature called the Slitheen on the other side. "Are you sure that's not me?"
"Most definitely this page," John assured her, pointing at it. "Do you like it?"
"That can't be me," she whispered. "I'm not that beautiful."
"Well, that's how I see you."
Johanna stared at him before closing her eyes and turning away. "John," she breathed.
"Johanna," he replied.
"What am I doing here?" she asked herself, putting a hand over her mouth, feeling tears sting her eyes. "Why am I still here?"
"Johanna," John whispered, hugging her. "Explain."
Johanna shook her head numbly. "It just feels wrong!" she said, her voice muffled by his shoulder. "All of it! The guns, the boys . . . I'm scared, John. So, so scared!"
She felt him press a kiss to the top of her head, and then the door banged opened. John lifted his head angrily. "Martha, what have I told you about entering unannounced?" he demanded, but then he stiffened. "Joan."
Johanna sat straight up, seeing Joan stare at them in shock and confusion. Martha was looking back and forth between the three of them before hurriedly closing the door on them. John and Johanna looked at each other. "The rumors will start," Johanna told him, standing up and taking her books. "I've got to go."
***
"That wasn't on the list," Martha told herself before running off, leaving Joan where she was.
She hurried to the TARDIS and began to rewatch the instructions again. "And what about the stuff you didn't tell me?" she demanded. "What about women?" She shook her head. "But no, you didn't think of that. What in hell am I supposed to do, then?"
"Thank you," the Doctor told her.
"You had to, didn't you?" she asked accusingly. "You had to go and find yourself stuck between two women, and now you've got yourself stuck in danger of being accused of having an affair."
***
"Darkness is coming."
"Keep her away from the false and empty man," the Doctor warned.
"Hide him from the women who speak lies," the Bad Wolf added.
"The last of the Time Lords. The last of that wise and ancient race."
"Merge with the faces of men."
Latimer looked up from the watches in front of him to see the village man, Mr. Clark, standing by a wall. He frowned when he saw his classmate, Baines, join him, and then a red balloon bobbed along, and a little girl joined them. All three tilted their heads the same way and sniffed
***
"You look wonderful," John praised Joan as she showed him her dress.
"You'd best give me some warning," Joan told him. "Er . . . can you actually dance?"
"I'm not certain," John admitted when an image and words floated through his head.
***
"Well, come on, then!" the Bad Wolf told him.
"What?" the Doctor asked, confused.
She laughed, walking backwards. "Haven't danced yet," she said with a grin. "Wanna know if the world implodes if I do?"
The Doctor rolled his eyes, but nonetheless held out a hand. "May I have this dance, Dame Jessie?"
"Yes, you may, Sir Doctor," she confirmed, taking it.
He instantly spun her, making her trip into him, and he smirked as they fell into the dancing position. "So far, it's just you being clumsy."
It earned him a swat in the arm. "Shut up," she muttered.
***
"There's a surprise," Joan stated, stepping in front of him. "Is there anything you're certain about?"
John looked at her and swallowed. "I'm certain that what you saw earlier today was not what you thought it was," he replied. "Miss Rossini and I are not in any kind of relationship, Joan."
"Then why do you look at her as if there is no one else in the world?"
"Because past me? The me you used to know? She's not coming back!"
"I don't know."
***
"There you are!" Martha told Jenny in excitement when her fellow maid walked in, pouring a cup of tea. "Come and look what I've got! Mr. Poole didn't want his afternoon tea, so cook said I could have it. And there's enough for two!" She looked up when she saw Jenny hadn't moved. "What are you standing there for?" She tilted her head when Jenny sniffed deeply. "Are you all right?
"I must have a cold coming on," Jenny replied, moving to sit down.
"The problem is," Martha continued, "I keep thinking about them, but I don't know what to do."
"Thinking about who?"
"Mr. Smith, Miss Rossini, and the Matron," she replied. "Because between Mr. Smith and the Matron, it's never going to last. He's going to leave in a few weeks, and if it's anything, I think Miss Rossini will go, too."
"Why?"
"It's like his contract comes to an end," Martha replied, thinking of a lie. "I think Miss Rossini's is, too, and with the way they look at each other, they'll go together. And the Matron's going to be heartbroken."
"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." Jenny took on a commanding tone that didn't suit her. "Tell me. Tell me now!"
Martha frowned at her. "Would you like some tea?" she asked, deciding to try something.
"Yes, thanks," Jenny replied.
"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."
And Martha's heart raced. "Right," she said slowly."Hold on a tick."
She stood and headed out the door, then began to run. She raced out the door, and only narrowly dodged a shot from her former friend.
They'd been found.
***
John stepped back from Joan when Martha ran in. "They've found us," she gasped out.
"This is ridiculous!" Joan sighed.
"Martha, I've warned you," John began.
"They've found us, and I've seen them," Martha interrupted. "They look like people, like us, like normal. I'm sorry, but you've got to open the watch." She headed for the mantle, but stopped. "Oh my God. Where've they gone? Where are the watches?"
"What are you talking about?" John asked, confused.
"You had two watches," Martha replied. "Two fob watches." She pointed. "Right there."
"Did I?" John asked in confusion. "I don't remember."
"I can't see what concern it is of yours," Joan said.
"But we need them!" Martha wailed before turning. "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 for all I know, the Bad Wolf could be in danger, or already is, knowing her, but you've got to tell me, where are the watches?"
John's head was whirling at how Martha was talking like the dreams he and Johanna had were real, but he passed it off. "Oh, I see. Cultural differences. It must be so confusing for you. Martha, this is what we call a story."
"Oh, you complete - " Martha broke off, taking a deep breath. "This is not you! This is 1913!"
"Good," John agreed, nodding and speaking slowly. "This is 1913."
"I'm sorry," Martha apologized. "I'm really sorry, but I've got to snap you out of this."
And she slapped him.
"Martha!" Joan shouted.
***
"Ah, Mrs. Jones!" the Doctor exclaimed as he and the Bad Wolf, in a rather revealing black dress that sparkled, walked up to a woman who looked like Martha. "We still haven't finished our chat - "
He broke off when the woman slapped him, not unlike how Martha had just slapped John. "Keep away from my daughter!" the woman snapped.
"Mum!" Martha cried, pulling her away, and the Doctor rubbed his cheek, seeing the Bad Wolf smirking and shaking in laughter. "What are you doing?"
"Always the women," the Doctor commented. "At least with you, it's on the back of the head. But why is it all of the women, every time?"
***
"Wake up!" Martha shouted at John as he straightened. "You're coming back to the TARDIS with me after I find the Bad Wolf!"
"How dare!" John scolded her, grabbing her arm and hauling her to the door. "How dare you! I'm not going anywhere with an insane servant, and you are not to go anywhere near that library if you plan on subjecting Miss Rossini to the same! Martha, you are dismissed. You will leave these premises immediately. Now get out!" He pushed her out of the door and closed it on her. He turned back, shaking his head. "The nerve of it," he muttered. "The absolute cheek! You think I'm a fantasist? What about her?"
"The funny thing is," Joan began, nodding to the mantle. "You did have two fob watches. One of them was a woman's. Right there. Don't you remember?"
***
Latimer began walking to the school when the maid, Martha, bumped into him. "Oh, sorry!" Martha yelped, and suddenly, Latimer saw her differently, in skin tight pants and top and jacket. "Sorry!"
"Martha?" Latimer tried.
"Not now, Tim! Busy!"
Martha ran off, and a woman's voice spoke in his head. "Find me, Timothy."
"No," the Doctor insisted.
"The Bad Wolf must rise." Latimer slowly took the gold fob watch out to see wisps of white gold billowing out of it. "Find me, Timothy. Find the Bad Wolf."
Latimer took a deep breath, then began to run.
***
"She's infatuated," Joan commented as they approached the hall. "You're a dangerous man."
"You've taken my arm in public," John noted, looking down.
Joan shrugged. "I'm very scared."
"Spare a penny for the veterans of the Crimea, sir?" a beggar asked.
John nodded. "Yes, of course," he replied, dropping a coin in. "There you are."
***
Johanna rubbed the back of her neck as she finished stacking the books on the shelves. She sighed, turning to her desk, ready to collapse -
When there was a knock on the door. She sighed. "Come in!" she called. Latimer entered, and she blinked. "Timothy," she greeted. "What can I do for you?"
He held out a gold fob watch. "It told me to find you."
Johanna slowly strode forward, looking at the watch. And a voice in her head, sounding like her own, coaxed her forward. "Come here. Find me."
She stopped short, shaking her head. "What are you playing at, Timothy?" she asked.
"You can hear it, can't you?" Latimer asked, looking at her. "You can hear it, too. It wants you to hold it."
"Timothy, I - "
"I know it's hard to believe, miss, but it wanted me to find you. The other didn't want it to happen, but this one did. And I've seen who's inside. She's the heart of the sun itself, the center of roaring thunderstorms."
Johanna sank into her chair, looking at the watch numbly, remembering where she'd seen something similar before. "Timothy - "
"She has seen the turn of time itself and has wielded it in her hands."
"Timothy - !"
"I'm scared to death of her, miss," Latimer admitted, and Johanna stared at him. "And the Bad Wolf is wonderful," he finished.
He set the watch down, and Johanna looked at it before tracing her fingers over the edge. "Please," Latimer begged.
Johanna's eyes flicked from him to the watch, and she made her decision.
***
Martha plopped down right in front of Joan, and the Matron sighed. "Please, don't," she begged. "Not again!"
"He's different from any other man you've ever met, right?" Martha asked.
"Yes," Joan agreed.
"And she is, too, right?"
"Yes."
"And sometimes, they both say these strange things, like people and places you've never heard of, yeah? And they only understand each other? But it's deeper than that. Sometimes, when you look in their 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," Joan blustered.
"Yes, you do," Martha told her firmly. "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 you're lucky. And I just wanted to say sorry for what I'm about to do."
"Oh, now, really, Martha!" John complained as he came back with drinks. "This is getting out of hand! I must insist that you leave!"
Martha pulled his sonic screwdriver from her apron and held it up to him. "Do you know what this is?" she challenged, seeing recognition in his eyes. "Go on. Name it!"
"John, what is that silly thing?" Joan asked, but she softened when he took it. "John?"
"You're not John Smith," she told him. "You're called the Doctor. The man in your journal, he's real. He's you, and we need to find the Bad Wolf." She paid no notice to when she saw Latimer slip in through the back door.
There was the sound of something outside, and then Baines, Mr. Clark from the village, and - Martha's heart skipped a beat - Jenny entered, guns in their hands. "There will be silence!" Mr. Clark ordered. "All of you!" He glared around as scarecrows moved by themselves, entering the hall as well. "I said, silence!"
"Mr. Clark," one of the other teachers asked, standing. "What's going on?"
Mr. Clark shot him and vaporized him without a second glance. Martha quickly looked behind her. "Mr. Smith?" she asked. "Everything I told you? Just forget it! Don't say anything!"
"We asked for silence!" Baines shouted, and everyone fell silent around them. "Now then. We have a few questions . . . for Mr. Smith."
"No, better than that," a girl, Lucy Cartwright, if Martha remembered correctly, said as she bounced up, her balloon in hand. "The teacher. He's the Doctor." Martha's blood ran cold. "I heard them talking."
"You took human form!" Baines breathed.
"Of course I'm human! I was born human!" John sputtered. "As were you, Baines! And Jenny! And you, Mr. Clark! What is going on?! This is madness!"
"Oo, and a human brain, too," Baines mocked. "Simple, thick, and dull."
"But he's no good like this!" Jenny whined.
"We need a Time Lord," Mr. Clark agreed.
"Easily done," Baines said before standing forward and raising his gun at him. "Change back."
"I don't know what you're talking about!" John protested.
"Change back!"
"I literally do not know - "
Martha yelped when Jenny grabbed her, putting a gun to her head. "Get off me!" she shouted.
"She's your friend, isn't she?" Jenny taunted. "Doesn't this scare you enough to change back?"
"I don't know what you mean!" John cried.
"Wait a minute," Jenny breathed. "The maid told me about Smith and Rossini, but the woman is not here. She also said about . . . the Matron. That woman! There!"
"Then let's have you!" Clark said with a grin, grabbing Joan and putting a gun to her head as well.
Baines smiled at John as he looked back and forth, a panicked look in his eyes. "Have you enjoyed it, Doctor? Being human?" he sneered. "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 matron? Your friend, or your lover?" He grinned. "Your choice."
***
I was seriously actually considering having John start off with Joan, and then he and Johanna actually having some sort of affair, and then I was like, "Seriously? Would Johanna do that?" And I thought, "noooooo way." So . . . yeah. John isn't really in any kind of relationship, even though Baines says Joan's his lover.
But OH MY GOSH, the reviews looking forward to this episode arc! What do you think Johanna decided to do? I'll start working on "Family of Blood" next, and I can tell you this . . . the Doctor we saw in the end of that episode the first time? In the rewrite, he's going to be a whole lot angrier.
Anyone want to guess why? Dedication if you can give me something close!
Keep an eye out!