Don't own any of the characters so far.

Exams being over, hopefully I'll get more work done on this - crosses fingers -

Chapter 2: Secrets

Sam Smith was one of the last children to get off the bus, and one of the only first years that afternoon. He was sitting up front, backpack neatly on his lap, and his bulky child's jacket getting in the way and annoying him. He could feel the zipper doubling back on itself between his shirt and his bag no matter how he tried to arrange it. He thought he remembered wearing less annoying clothes, once, well-fitted shirts and suit jackets, precise and exact. But he doesn't have any suits in his closet, and Dad told him he should stop thinking so hard about the fragments of memory that are all he has of his life up to a few months ago. Dad says they'll come back on their own, or not, but that straining himself could hurt him.

It funny, but sometimes Sam thinks that his Dad used to look quite different too, though he can never quite decide what he used to look like.

Dad is waiting for him when he gets off the bus, grinning and rocking on his heels as if he were the kid on his first day of school. Sam is torn between annoyance, which seems more like a habit so ingrained that he's forgotten when it started, and the infectious excitement with which Dad picks him up for a hug.

"First day of school, Sammy-boy! How was it? Have you made any friends yet? Did you like your teacher?"

Sam huged back, clinging on to Dad, and tries to think of an answer to the rapid-fire questions. He isn't really as excited as he thought he'd be after starting school, which he's been looking forward to for as long as he can remember. Though with his memory problems, that isn't really saying much. He's nowhere near as excited as Dad is. It's just that everything about school had seemed so familiar and boring. Even getting that greedy fat kid in trouble had been almost mindless.

"Okay, I guess. I thought it'd be different."

"Ah, well," said Dad. He looked like he wanted to say more but couldn't find the words.

"I did make a friend," Sam added, because he thought Dad looked worried. It seemed to be the right thing to say, though, since Dad perked right up.

"That's great! You always need friends around, that's what I always say. What's your friend called?"

He really should have expected Dad to ask that, but he hadn't been thinking much past the worried look on his face. He supposed he could call Harry a friend.

"His name's Harry. He lives close, number 4."

"That's great! We'll the family over some time. Your Aunt Sarah told me – " but Dad cut off.

Sam generally liked Aunt Sarah. A lot of Dad's friends didn't seem to like him, but she was always friendly. And Cousin Luke and his friends took him to the park. They'd lived with Aunt Sarah for a while, until Dad got things sorted out. That was back before they moved to Surrey, right after Sam woke up after being sick for so long.

"Aunt Sarah said what?" he asked, because Dad said Aunt Sarah's advice was usually good, and Sam found that it usually had good results for him.

"Ooooh – nothing important, just that I should be friendly with the neighbours. Said that it's better in the long run, despite the trouble."

"What trouble?" Well, Dudley was definitely trouble, and Sam didn't like the idea of having him over, but he thought Dad was thinking about something else. Not that he was going to actually tell him.

"You know, Sam, neighbour trouble, always coming over, asking questions, giving you meatball casserole – " he made a face, and Sam agreed. The meatball casserole was currently fertilizing their scraggly garden. He could see a chunk of ground beef poking out from behind the overgrown shrub beside the door as Dad juggled him around, trying to find the right key.

"Here we go! Found you at last," Dad exclaimed finally. Sam swung through the air and landed on the stairs. He could hear Dad running through the complex locks on their door as he ran upstairs to his room. He wanted to hide the packet of drawings Miss Allison had let him take home with him. She'd said they were very creative, but he didn't think Dad would be very happy if he saw them.

Listening hard to make sure Dad wouldn't come upstairs and surprise him, he crawled under his bed, slid away the loose baseboard, and stuffed the rolled-up drawing into the hole in the wall. He grabbed the double-sided tape he'd taken from the kitchen and taped the board back in place so it wouldn't fall off on its own.

He'd pulled the baseboard off the day after they'd moved in, when he was sure his bed would stay where it was, providing extra cover for his hiding place. He didn't know why he felt he needed a hiding place so much. He and Dad never fought, exactly. Whenever Sam got really mad about something Dad would crouch down and put a hand on each temple. Though they'd later have a talk about whatever it was, he always calmed down right away.

By the time Dad finished with the locks and whatever else had caught his attention and came to get Sam, he was sitting on his bed with some doodles of the toy soldiers vs. T-Rexes battle he and Harry had had.

"What's this?" Dad asked, sitting down on the bed beside Sam. Sam watched his face as he looked at the pictures. It looked like Dad didn't like these either, though he was trying very hard to hide it.

"Me'n Harry had a toy soldier and dinosaur battle after snack-time. These are my battle plans."

Dad grinned. "Always the planner, my Sam." He traced the line of one of the rows of soldier with his finger.

Sam bit his lip. He'd thought that the dinosaur battle was pretty innocent. Apparently it wasn't. He'd have to come up with something else.

It was late at night and Sam was supposed to be asleep. The rain was keeping him up. Well – actually it was the thunder and lightning that was keeping him up. He was hiding underneath the covers, trying to convince himself not to go find Dad. He didn't want to tell him he was scared.

Thunder cracked right above his head and, suddenly, he changed his mind. He wrapped his blanket around himself to keep himself safe from the monsters under the bed and shuffled as quickly as he could to the door. He crept into the hallway and was about to bump down the stairs when he heard voices. Voices that weren't Dad's.

"...don't know what you were expecting, Doctor," a man was saying.

"Not this! Sure, he's always been a bit...insane – but he's never hallucinated anyone before." That was Dad. Sam wondered who they were talking about. He wondered if it was anyone he'd met. Dad knew a lot of strange people; he was willing to bet a whole bunch of them could be insane.

"It might not be a hallucination exactly. It could be another part of himself that's he trying to distance himself from. That he'd choose that specific name – "

Dad interrupted the woman who was talking. Sam recognised her voice: it was Miss Jones, who worked at a hospital downtown and was going to be a doctor.

"No, we don't get D. I. D. I'm not sure you lot get it either, the whole diagnosis is dodgy."

"If you think he's dangerous you should just lock him up in the TARDIS." That was the man again.

"At the very least," the Miss Jones added.

"I'm not doing that," Dad said sharply. "Not until I know what's happening. I'll investigate tomorrow."

"You can't just let this slide, Doctor. If there's the slightest possibility that he could go on another killing spree –"

Sam couldn't help it. He let out a small scream before clapping his hand over his mouth again.

The door to the dining room burst open and Dad ran out, followed by Miss Jones and a man who looked like he had walked through the 4th variable. Sam had no idea what made him think that, or even what that meant.

"Sam! What are you doing there?"

Without meaning to, Sam gripped his blanket harder around himself. "Who went on a killing spree?"

Dad ran a hand through his hair and shot a glare at the other man.

"He's not – don't worry about that – let me worry about that. Why aren't you in bed?"

Sam had completely forgotten why he got out of bed. He thought back. Then "The lightning was really loud." He didn't want to say he was scared, not in front of Miss Jones, who didn't like him, and the other man, who looked as if he really hated him. "I wanted to make sure you were alright."

The other blinked and Dad grinned at little. Sam could tell he didn't believe him, but that was alright, as long as he didn't say.

"Come down and we'll have some hot chocolate before you go back to bed."

Miss Jones said to Dad, "Kids shouldn't have sugar, not to mention chocolate, before going to bed," then muttered to herself, "yeah, that's what I find wrong with this situation."

"We'll be going Doctor, it's getting late," the man said.

"Oh, you don't need to go!"

"I have work tomorrow," said Miss Jones, and the man said he did too.

Sam missed the rest of the conversation as Dad shooed him into the kitchen. He heard the three grown-ups saying what must have been goodbyes, and then the door closed.