The Doctor, McKenzie, and Martha ran into the TARDIS, ducking down to avoid an energy blast. "Get down," the Time Lord ordered, before slamming the door shut to block the weapons. "Did they see you?" he asked as they pulled their hoods down, McKenzie shedding her jacket entirely.

"I don't know," Martha shrugged, breathing heavily.

"But did they see you?"

"I don't know," McKenzie repeated. "We were too busy running."

"Kez, it's important. Did they see your face?"

"No, they couldn't have," she replied, frowning. "The speed I run at?"

The Doctor nodded, setting the TARDIS into flight. "Off we go!" The ship jolted severely, making them groan as they hit the console. "Argh! They're following us."

"How can they do that?" Martha frowned. "You've got a time machine."

"Stolen technology," McKenzie explained. "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... We'll have to do it," the Doctor muttered. "Girls, you trust me, don't you?"

"Of course I do," Martha replied instantly. McKenzie narrowed her eyes at her boyfriend.

"Because it all depends on you, Mar," he said, patting her shoulders.

"Kas? What are you on about?" McKenzie asked, suspicious.

He took out an ornate pocket watch, and grabbed her wings-shaped pendant from her toolbelt. "We have to do it," he replied, wincing as her eyes widened in shock and fear. "We have to change."

"No, no, no, no. No! We can't! Please, Kas, I can't lose this. Not now. The pain... You know how much it hurts!" she protested.

Martha frowned. "What does? What am I supposed to do?"

The Doctor turned to her, holding out his fob watch. "Take this watch, because my life depends on it. This watch, Martha. The watch is—"

***

John Smith woke abruptly to the sound of a clock ticking rhythmically. He sat up, hearing a knock at the door. "Come in," John called, getting out of bed.

His Italian maid-servant, Kezia Di Angelo, walked in, carrying a breakfast tray. She wore a black and white pinafore dress, her coppery hair tied back in a bun. The pendant she always wore was hanging around her neck as normal, a family heirloom, he thought. When she saw John was still in his pyjamas, she gasped, turning her back and blushing. "Spiacente, signore! You not dressed yet. I come back later?" (Sorry, sir!)

John shook his head, slipping on his dressing gown. "No, it's all right, it's all right. Put it down." He gestured to a free area on his desk. "I was, er... Sorry, sorry. Sometimes I have these extraordinary dreams."

Kezia placed the tray down as directed, and crossed the room to undrawn the curtains, glancing at John as she did so. "What about, signore?"

"I dream I'm this adventurer. This daredevil, a madman. The Doctor, I'm called. And last night, I dreamt you were there, as my..." John trailed off, looking away.

"A teacher and a housemaid, signore?" Kezia asked, raising her eyebrows. "È impossibile."

"Quite. I'm sure your friend Martha was present, too." John shook his head. "I'm a man from another world, though."

Kezia eyed him. "It cannot be true. There is no thing."

"No such thing," John corrected, smiling a little.

She bowed her head, bobbing. "Sì, signore."

John frowned, picking up his pocket watch from the mantelpiece. "This thing. The watch is..." He dropped it back again. "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."

"I can prove that wrong, signore," Kezia stated, unfolding the newspaper she'd brought in. "Il giornale. Monday, November ten, nineteen thirteen. You complete human, signore."

"Mmm, that's me," he agreed, smiling at her. "Completely human."  Kezia blushed as she realised her mistake.

***

Later that day, Kezia was scrubbing the floor of the corridor with her fellow maids, Martha and Jenny. John walked past, humming absently. "Buongiorno, signore," Kezia greeted.

"Yes, hi," John half-waved, turning off towards the library.

Jenny rolled her eyes. "Head in the clouds, that one. Don't know why you're so sweet on him."

Kezia shrugged. "He kind to me. Not everyone is same, with me as..." She gestured to herself. Her shaky grasp for English seemed to be grounds for all kinds of abuse here.

"Different?" Jenny euphemised.

The Italian smiled gratefully. "Di preciso." (Exactly) Martha and Jenny laughed.

Two senior boys stopped by them, glaring. "Now then, you three. You're not paid to have fun, are you? Put a little backbone into it."

Martha nodded glumly. "Yes, sir. Sorry, sir."

"What's your name again?" one of the boys asked.

"Martha, sir. Martha Jones."

He smiled cruelly. "Tell me then, Jones. With hands like those, how can you tell when something's clean?" The boys walked on, sniggering.

"Very funny, signore," Kezia muttered, rolling her eyes.

"Careful, now," Jenny warned. "Don't answer back."

Martha snorted. "I'd answer back with my bucket over his head."

"I wish," Kezia nodded, smiling.

"Just think, though," Jenny sighed. "In a few years time, boys like that'll be running the country."

Martha frowned. "Nineteen thirteen. They might not."

***

A kind-looking woman in a starched nurses uniform—Matron Joan Redfern—came onto the same corridor as John, who was carrying a large stack of books. "Oh, good morning, Mr Smith," she greeted politely.

He jumped, dropping some of the books. "There we go."

"Let me help you," the Matron suggested.

"No, no, I've got it, no," he assured her, crouching down. "Er, how best to retrieve?" He looked from the books in his arms to the ones on the floor. "Tell you what. If you could take these."

Joan took the books from his arms, and he picked up the fallen ones himself. "Good," she sighed.

"No harm done," John smiled. "So, er, how was Jenkins?"

"Oh, just a cold. Nothing serious," she replied. "I think he's missing his mother more than anything."

John frowned. "Oh, we can't have that."

"He received a letter this morning, so he's a lot more chipper." Joan looked at her load. "I appear to be holding your books."

"Yes, so you are," John realised. "Sorry, sorry. Just let me." He tried to take the books, but Joan held them away.

"Why don't I take half?" she suggested.

John smiled. "Ah, brilliant idea. Brilliant. Perfect. Division of labour."

"We make quite a team," Joan evaluated.

"Don't we just," John nodded, standing there for a moment.

Joan raised an eyebrow. "So, these books. Were they being taken in any particular direction?"

"Yes, this way," he led her off into a smaller corridor. "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," Joan confessed.

John nodded. "Ah. Nurse Redfern it is, then."

"Though we've known each other all of two months, you could even say Joan."

"Joan?" John repeated, confused.

"That's my name," she clarified.

"Well, obviously." John nodded, pretending he'd known that.

Joan smiled. "And it's John, isn't it?"

"Yes, yes, it is, yes."

The pair stopped at a notice board at the top of a flight of stairs. "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?"

John shrugged. "I hadn't thought about it."

Joan sighed. "It's been ages since I've been to a dance, only no one's asked me."

"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—" John stuttered, backing away.

"The stairs," Joan cut him off.

"What about the stairs?"

"They're right behind you!" Joan warned, but too late, as the teacher went down backwards in a flurry of books.

***

Joan sighed as she tended to the back of John's head, watching him wince. "Stop it. I get boys causing less fuss than this."

"Because it hurts!" John protested.

Suddenly, the door banged open and Kezia shot in, closely followed by Martha. "È lui va bene?!" Kezia questioned frantically, at the same time as Martha cried. "Is he all right?"

Joan frowned at the girls. "Excuse me. It's hardly good form to enter a master's study without knocking."

Both girls rolled their eyes. "Spiacente," Kezia muttered, going back to the door and knocking on it from inside.

"But is he all right?" Martha repeated.

"They said you fell down stairs, signore," Kezia stated worriedly.

"No, it was just a tumble, that's all," John assured them, waving a hand dismissively.

"He is okay?" Kezia asked again as the Matron packed up her medical things into her bag.

"Of course he is," she snapped irritably. "And I daresay I know a lot more about it than you."

Kezia looked down, and John frowned. "Now, Matron, I would ask you not to snap at my staff," he reproached sternly.

Joan sighed. "My apologies." Kezia bobbed as the Matron passed her, heading for the door. "Martha, come with me. I require some assistance in my office."

"Spiacente," Kezia muttered as the women left. "I just tidy you things."

John didn't bother to correct her grammar. "I was just telling Matron about my dreams," he told her. "They are quite remarkable. I keep imagining that I'm someone else, and that I'm hiding."

The Italian glanced up at him. "Hiding? You did not say this morning."

"I must admit I was a little confused." John sighed. "This is going to sound silly."

Kezia tilted her head. "I am maid, signore. I no judge."

"Don't. You don't judge." The girl raised an eyebrow at him, and he smiled. "I dream, quite often, that I have two hearts."

"Signore, è impossibile." She stepped towards him, holding out her hand. "May I?" Nodding, John gave her his wrist, and she felt for a pulse, before shaking her head, letting go quickly. "One heart only."

John stared at her for a moment, perhaps realising, while her face was doused in sunlight, that her eyes were a bright, piercing blue. "I have, er, I have written down some of these dreams in the form of fiction. I mean, I'm sure you're very busy, but if you were interested?"

Kezia smiled shyly. "I very interested."

John took the book from the table next to him, handing it over. "Well, I've never actually shown it to anyone before. A Journal of Impossible Things," he mused.

Kezia glanced at him, confused. "Un giornale?" She looked down at the cover, then nodded. "Ah. Il diario." She began flicking through it, smiling at the familiar inky scrawl, and the not so familiar pictures. "These creatures. Such dreams."

"It's become quite a hobby," John admitted.

"È incredibile," the Italian marvelled. She came across a picture of two girls, with the names Rose and Alex written next to them, and frowned. "Rose and Alex. Friends?"

John looked at the picture and shook his head. "Oh no, no, they're just inventions. These characters seem to disappear later on." Next was a sketch of a tall box. "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 far away places."

"Like doorway?" Kezia guessed.

"Hmm," John agreed. "I sometimes think how magical life would be if stories like this were true."

"If only," Kezia sighed, before blinking. "Is that right?"

"Perfect," John replied. "Sadly, it's just a dream."

***

That evening, Martha brought out three pints to Jenny and Kezia on a bench outside while John had a drink inside the pub. "Ooh, it's freezing out here. Why can't we have a drink inside the pub?" Martha complained.

"Now, don't be ridiculous," Jenny scolded, sipping her beer. "You do get these notions! It's all very well those Suffragettes, but that's London. That's miles away."

Kezia frowned, drinking some of hers too. "Still. Do you not want to scream sometimes? We have to bow, and scrape, and work all day long. Do you not want for different?"

Jenny sighed. "I don't know. Things must be different in your country."

"I cannot remember la bella Italia. It has been many years when I stepped on terra Italiana. Mr Smith gave me job many years ago, in England. I have been here all time," Kezia shrugged.

"Well, it's very different in my country," Martha put in. "Thank God I'm not staying."

"You keep saying that," Jenny noted.

Martha grinned. "Just you wait. One more month and I'm as free as the wind. I wish you could come with me, girls. You'd love it." It was difficult not telling McKenzie, or rather Kezia, that she was leaving too, but in this human state, the girl would never understand.

"Where you go?" Kezia wondered, proving Martha's point. 

"Anywhere," Martha sighed. "Just look up there. Imagine you could go all the way out to the stars."

Jenny snorted. "You don't half say mad things."

Martha shook her head. "That's where I'm going. Into the sky, all the way out." She and Kezia jumped as something flashed green in the sky.

"You see that?" Kezia exclaimed, pointing.

"See what?" Jenny questioned, confused.

"Did you see it, though? Right up there, just for a second," Martha pointed too.

Jenny sighed. "Martha, there's nothing there."

Matron Redfern came running up the path, looking scared. Martha frowned at how Kezia shrank down in her seat. "Matron, are you all right?"

"Did you see that?" Joan gasped. "There was something in the woods. This light."

John came out, frowning at the four women. "Anything wrong, ladies? Far too cold to be standing around in the dark, don't you—?"

"There, there!" Joan exclaimed, cutting him off. "Look, in the sky."

They all saw it this time. "Oh, that's beautiful," Jenny marvelled.

"All gone," John smiled. "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, no, they always look close, when actually they're miles off," John assured her. "Nothing left but a cinder. Now, I should escort you back to the school. Ladies?"

"No, we're fine, thanks," Martha told him, but Kezia stood up.

"Is dark. I get back, early morning," she explained, before walking off with John and Joan. The Matron didn't look too happy about the arrangement to say the least.

***

The next day was Martha's morning off, so she cycled up to an old barn where the TARDIS was hidden, unlocked the door, and went inside. "Hello," she called, before catching herself. "I'm talking to a machine." She toggled a lever and the scanner lit up with a video of the Doctor and McKenzie, the girl tying back her hair in preparation for the change.

"This working?" the Doctor frowned, tapping at the camera before nodding. "Right, Martha, before we change, here's a list of instructions for when we're human. One, don't let us hurt anyone. We can't have that, but you know what humans are like. Two, don't worry about the TARDIS. I'll put her on emergency power so they can't detect her. Just let her hide away."

"Four," McKenzie began, but the Doctor cut her off. Martha smiled at hearing her normal accent again, rather than Kezia's Italian tongue.

"Five," he corrected.

They both looked off camera as the TARDIS buzzed in the video. "Three," McKenzie rolled her eyes. "Thanks. No getting involved in big historical events, big no no. Actually four, this time, you. Don't let us abandon you."

"Five—" Martha sighed, fastforwarding.

"There was a meteor, a shooting star," she muttered. "What am I supposed to do then?"

"And twenty-three," the Doctor continued, his hand now in McKenzie's. "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. Kez'll be in her pendant, but that will just let her out when the time is right, or I can do it when I'm me again."

"Now, we've put perception filters on them so the human us won't think anything of it. Just a watch, just a pendant. But don't open it unless you have to. Because once it's open, then the Family will be able to find him. It's all down to you, Martha. Your choice," McKenzie explained.

"Oh," and the two of them suddenly grinned. "Thank you."

Martha sighed again as the screen froze on their happy faces. "I wish you'd come back."

***

One of the boys, Latimer, knocked on the door to John's study. The teacher opened the door, and Latimer saw the maid, Kezia, dusting in the background. "You told me to come and collect that book, sir."

"Good lad," John smiled. "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."

Latimer frowned. "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?" John frowned. "Kezia, could you have a look for me? You have a knack for finding things I've lost."

"Sì, signore," Kezia nodded, smiling at Timothy Latimer as she passed.

"And I know why," John continued. "Keeping you head low avoids the mockery of your classmates. But no man should hide himself, don't you think?"

"Yes, sir."

"Signore?" Kezia asked, holding up a book. "This is it?" John turned to her.

"You're clever. Be proud of it. Use it." Latimer frowned. It had definitely been Mr Smith's voice, but he was still talking with Kezia about which book he was looking for. He noticed a pocket watch on the desk, and picked it up. "The secret lies within. I'm trapped. I'm kept inside the cogs." Latimer opened the watch. "In the dark, waiting. Always waiting." He closed the watch, slipping it in his pocket as Mr Smith came back with the right book.

"Fascinating details about the siege," John was saying. "Really quite remarkable. Are you all right?"

"Yes, sir. Fine, sir," Latimer replied.

"Right, then. Good. And remember, use that brain of yours." As John handed over the book, Latimer saw him wearing a tighter, pinstriped suit, his hair spiked up, and wielding some kind of metal instrument. By his side, where Kezia had been standing a second ago, was a young ginger in slim-fit jeans and a sleeveless shirt bearing an unrecognisable logo, white wings stretching out behind her. Latimer blinked, and the image had gone. "You're really not looking yourself, old chap," John noticed. "Anything bothering you?"

"No, sir. Thank you, sir."

***

Later, Kezia was carrying a basket full of bedsheets out to the washing room when she stopped to watch the boys practice firing machine guns, led by John and the Headmaster, Mr Rocastle. "Concentrate," John warned, but smiled when the firing came to a stop. "Hutchinson, excellent work."

"Cease fire!" Mr Rocastle called.

"Good day to you, Headmaster," John greeted, turning to his colleague.

"Your crew's on fine form today, Mr Smith," Rocastle complimented.

Hutchinson huffed. "Excuse me, Headmaster. We could do a lot better. Latimer's being deliberately shoddy."

"I'm trying my best," Latimer protested.

Rocastle raised his eyebrows. "You need to be better than the best. Those targets are tribesmen from the dark continent."

Latimer sighed. "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," Rocastle stated sharply. "Now, resume firing."

Unfortunately, the machine gun wouldn't fire when Hutchinson tried it again. "Stoppage. Immediate action. Didn't I tell you, sir? This stupid boy is useless. Permission to give Latimer a beating, sir?"

Rocastle shrugged, looking at John. "It's your class, Mr Smith."

John thought for a moment, noticing Kezia watching in the corner of his eye. "Permission denied," he decided, before turning to the maid. "Kezia! Come here, would you?"

The Italian hurried over as best she could with her basket, eyeing the guns warily. "Signore?"

"Latimer has been slacking. I want you to take him with you until teatime. He can help you with your tasks, see what real work is," John ordered, a twinkle in his eye as he looked at his maid. "The most menial of chores, you understand?" She looked confused, so he switched dialect. "Se fate questo ora, domain si ha il giorno libero con me." (If you do this now, tomorrow you have the day off with me) It was a bold move, considering she was just a maid, but there was something about her John couldn't shake from his mind. She was unlike anybody he'd ever met, except perhaps the other maid, Martha. At least none of the others knew enough Latin to guess what he'd said, with the exception of Latimer, perhaps. Somehow, John didn't think he'd tell anyone.

Kezia nodded. "Come, Latimer. You help me wash floors," she stated as they walked away. The rest of the boys burst out laughing, but as soon as the pair had turned the corner of the building, she stopped, crouching down to Latimer's height. "Listen, Tim. You clever boy. Best in year, sì? I know things hard now, but you good man. You have brain and you have heart. Maybe only one of each, but it is more than they have, sì?" Kezia smiled when the boy laughed. "That better. Now, we go to wash clothes until teatime. No floors, I promise."

***

As promised, the next day John took Kezia out to the local village. She was wearing her Sunday best, so it was almost impossible to tell she wasn't a colleague like Joan. "Tell me about your home," John requested.

Kezia sighed, as she always did when asked about la bella Italia. "It has been many years. The time last I saw Italia, I was fourteen or thirteen. Mia madre, she said I must get job, support family. A man in the town, he English. He give me job, say I leave to England tomorrow." She shrugged. "I come to England. Man die five years after."

John frowned. "I'm sorry."

"No. He was not kind man like you. His name was Stone. I was young, not do exact what he wants, he angry. I do anything, he angry. When angry, he creativo." Kezia hugged herself.

"Creative?" John inquired. His eyes had narrowed and his frown deepened, but he still managed a gentle tone with the Italian. "What do you mean?"

"I do not know the English word for it," Kezia mumbled. "L'abuso, la violenza sessuale." She looked away, pretending to admire some birds flying past.

"I see," John sighed.

"Do you?" Kezia questioned. "When you give me job, I scared. I think this same as before. I waited, think you pretend kind. I was wrong. You never change, always kind. Grazie."

"Well, you're very welcome," John replied, blushing somewhat. A piano dropped from where it was being hoisted up to a third-storey window, and he acted fast and without thought, tackling Kezia out of the way. "Lucky."

The Italian's eyes were wide, which may have been something to do with the fact her employer was shielding her body. "That was luck, signore?"

***

Later, the pair were walking along a cart track by a field. "It make sense now, signore," Kezia stated. "The Doctor is man you want to be, do incredible things, save people."

John tilted his head. "Well, I discovered a talent, that's certainly true."

"But this Doctor, he dance with ladies."

"The devil," John smirked.

"A girl in every fireplace," Kezia evaluated.

"I must protest, Kezia. That is hardly me." He frowned, noticing a scarecrow half hanging off its post. "That scarecrow's all skewed."

"A what-crow?" the Italian frowned, having never heard the term before.

"A scarecrow," John repeated patiently as he tied the arm back to the wood. "It keeps crops safe from birds."

Kezia smiled, watching him as he worked. "Such an artist. Where you learn to draw?"

"Gallifrey," he replied.

"Somewhere in Ireland?" Kezia guessed, frowning.

"Yes, it must be, yes," John agreed.

"But you no Irish?"

"Not at all, no," John confirmed. "My father Sidney was a watchmaker from Nottingham, and my mother Verity was a nurse."

Kezia looked down, reminded of Matron Redfern. "Do they make good wives?"

"Haven't the slightest," John shrugged, stepping away from the scarecrow. "Well, my work is done. What do you think?"

"Masterpiece," Kezia muttered.

"All sorts of skills today," John grinned.

***

After their walk, the pair had returned to John's study, where the man started sketching Kezia without her knowledge. "What you doing?" she inquired, noticing he had been intent on his journal for a while. John smiled, sitting next to her and showing her the picture. She gasped, recognising her own hair and pendant. "Dio mio," she breathed. "Sure this is not me?" She pointed to a drawing of an ugly creature called a Slitheen.

"Most definitely this page," John smiled, tapping the girl's sketch. "Do you like it?"

"You made me too bella," Kezia told him, her hand against her chest.

John swallowed. "Well, that's how I see you."

Kezia froze. "You are kind, signore."

"I mean it, Kez." He put his hand to her cheek, and she did not dare move.

"Signore. You are teacher. I maid. This not proper," she whispered, her eyes wide, staring at his hand.

"Please, call me John. Who cares about what is proper?" John sighed. "I... You are so beautiful."

Kezia carefully stood up, making him drop his hand. "You could lose job. I could lose job. This is all I have."

John stood up with her. "Then let me be all you have. Kezia Di Angelo, would you do me the honour of coming to the village dance with me this weekend?" He saw her eyes widen, her lips stretching into a small smile. Taking this as consent, John leaned forwards, cupping the back of her head, and kissed her lips softly. "I've never—er..." he stuttered, before she pulled him back to kiss her again, by far her boldest move. Suddenly, the door opened, and they pulled away quickly. "Martha, what have I told you about entering unannounced?!"

The maid ran out again, slamming the door shut behind her, her eyes wide. "That wasn't on the list," she muttered.

***

Back in the TARDIS, Martha ran through the instructions recording again, before growling in frustration. "That's no good! What about the stuff you didn't tell me? What about falling in love?" She cursed. "Of course you didn't think of that. But when he changes back, she'll be heartbroken! She'll never let him touch her, let alone change her back!"

***

On the night of the village dance, Kezia was back in John's study, wearing her best dress again: a forest green number.

"You look wonderful," John promised as she twirled for him.

Kezia smiled nervously. "You really don't mind me going?"

John took her hands. "I am honoured, believe me."

***

Martha was pouring a cup of tea when Jenny entered. "There you are," the former grinned. "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. What are you standing there for?" Jenny sniffed deeply. "Are you all right?"

"I must have a cold coming on," Jenny said stiffly, sitting down.

"The problem is," Martha sighed. "I keep thinking about them, but I don't know what to do."

"Thinking about who?" Jenny questioned.

"Mr Smith and Kezia. Because it's never going to last. A teacher and a maid?" Martha snorted.

"It sounds so interesting," Jenny stated, leaning forwards. "Tell me. Tell me now."

Martha blinked, a little intimidated. "Would you like some tea?"

"Yes, thanks," Jenny answered, relaxing.

"I could put a nice bit of gravy in the pot," Martha suggested. "And some mutton. Or sardines and jam. How about that?"

"I like the sound of that," Jenny agreed.

Martha blinked. "Right. Hold on a tick." She left the room, then ran off, ducking away from a green energy ray.

***

Martha burst into the study, breathless. "They've found us," she cried. Kezia narrowed her eyes, confused.

"Martha, I've warned you," John said, irritated.

"They've found us, and I've seen them," Martha stated. "They look like people, like us, like normal. I'm sorry, but you've got to open the watch. Where is it?" She searched the mantelpiece, coming up blank. "Oh my God. Where's it gone? Where's the watch?"

"Martha, what you talk about?" Kezia demanded, clearly agitated by the fuss.

"He had a watch. A fob watch. Right there," Martha replied, trying to stay calm with the annoyingly human pair.

John frowned. "Did I? I don't remember."

"But we need it!" Martha stressed. "Oh my God, Doctor, McKenzie, 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?"

"Oh, I see," John sighed. "Cultural differences. It must be so confusing for you. Martha, this is what we call a story." Kezia looked at him sharply.

"Oh, you complete—" Martha growled. "This is not you. This is nineteen thirteen."

John nodded slowly. "Good. This is nineteen thirteen."

Martha sighed, shaking her head. "I'm sorry. I'm really sorry, but I've got to snap you out of this." She slapped John hard, making him curse and Kezia squeak in shock.

"Martha!" she cried, helping John stand back up.

"Wake up! You're coming back to the TARDIS with me!" She tried dragging them both out of the room, but John pushed her off.

"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, slamming the door shut. "The nerve of it. The absolute cheek. You think I'm a fantasist. What about her?"

Kezia frowned. "But John... You had watch, right there. At least, I think so..."

***

Martha bumped into Latimer as she ran back down the corridor. "Oh, sorry!" she called. Latimer blinked as he saw her wearing tight jeans and a red leather jacket, her hair up in a pony tail. "Sorry."

"Martha?" Latimer asked after her, but she shook her head, carrying on running.

"Not now, Tim. Busy!" She ran off to the TARDIS, searching the Doctor's trenchcoat pockets for the watch.

***

"You've taken my arm in public," John noted, looking down at Kezia's and his arms linked.

"I very scared," she excused, turning her head away nervously as a beggar held his tin out.

"Spare a penny for the veterans of the Crimea, sir?"

John smiled, digging in his pocket. "Yes, of course. There you are." He and Kezia went inside.

***

"Ladies and gentlemen," someone called over the slow music. "Please take your partners for a waltz."

"You can dance," Kezia smiled as she and John took to the floor, doing their best to ignore the stares of his colleagues.

"I surprise myself," he chuckled before the bumped into another couple. "Sorry."

***

Martha marched up to the door, hiding something in her apron pocket. "Oh, staff entrance, I think, Miss."

"Yeah? Well, think again, mate," the maid snorted, walking in.

She saw Kezia sitting at a table alone while John got refreshments, and hurried over to join the girl. When Kezia saw her, she flinched. "Please, Martha, don't. Not again."

"He's different from any other man you've ever met, right?" Martha prompted.

Kezia nodded. "Sì."

Martha smiled. "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 not know what you mean," Kezia denied, looking away.

"Yes, you do," Martha contradicted. "I don't mean to be rude, but you're not really Italian. You're just a girl from Central London. And I'm sorry, but look at this." She held up a black toolbelt, the one McKenzie wore. "Look at it."

The girl's eyes widened as she picked up the garment, memories flicking through her head.

"The pockets are bigger on the inside. Time Lord technology."

"Time Lord. That's what Jabe said. Your species, right?"

"There was a war. The last Great Time War, between my people and the Daleks."

"Breathing would probably be a good idea, yeah."

"I am the Bad Wolf. I create myself. I take the words, I scatter them in time and space. A message to lead myself here."

"I want you safe. My Doctor. Protected from the false god."

Kezia dropped the toolbelt in shock as she came out of her memories, and flinched as John put her drink down on the table. "Oh, now really, Martha," he was saying. "This is getting out of hand. I must insist that you leave."

Martha held up the sonic screwdriver to him. "Do you know what this is? Name it. Go on, name it."

"John?" Kezia asked, sounding scared. The sudden influx of memories had scared her; she remembered being someone she was not.

John took hold of the screwdriver, staring at it in confusion, and Martha smiled. "You're not John Smith. You're called the Doctor, and you're McKenzie Di Angelo. The man and woman in that journal, they're real. They're you."

Suddenly, a man started shouting. "There will be silence! All of you! I said, silence!"

"Mr Clarke, what is going on?" one of the teachers demanded, and he was promptly vaporised by Mr Clarke's ray gun.

"Mr Smith, Kezia? Everything I told you, just forget it! Don't say anything!" Martha ordered hurriedly.

"We asked for silence!" one of the students, Baines, snapped. "Now then, we have a few questions for Mr Smith."

"No, better than that," the little girl standing with them smiled. "The teacher. He's the Doctor. I heard them talking."

Baines turned to look at John. "You took human form."

John frowned. "Of course I'm human. I was born human, as were you, Baines. And Jenny, and you, Mr Clarke. What is going on? This is madness."

"Ooh, and a human brain, too," Baines licked his lips. "Simple, thick, and dull."

"But he's no good like this," Jenny stated.

"We need a Time Lord," Mr Clarke agreed.

"Easily done," Baines assured them, stepping forwards and levelling his ray gun at John. "Change back."

John raised his hands in surrender. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Change back!"

"I literally do not know—" John was cut off when Jenny grabbed Martha, putting a gun to her head.

"Get off me!" Martha shrieked.

"She's your friend, isn't she? Doesn't this scare you enough to change back?" Jenny asked.

"I don't know what you mean!" John exclaimed.

"Wait a minute. The maid told me about Smith and the Italian." Kezia froze as Jenny pointed right at her. "That woman, there."

"Then let's have you," Mr Clark smirked, putting a gun to her head as well, holding her against him.

Baines smiled, tilting his head. "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 maid? Your friend, or your lover? Your choice."