Bet you thought you'd seen the last of me.

Honestly, I have nothing to say for myself except that this plot got away from me.

October 12th, 1913

Heeled boots thudded on the wooden floor, and Ianto looked up at their approach.

"Finished my duties," Martha announced. "Mending and all, and I've got the rest of the evening off. Thought I'd drop in to say thanks for the lessons."

"Glad you found them helpful. Ah, while you're here?" He put away his book and fixed her with a grave look. "We need to talk."

She squared her shoulders and looked him in the eye. "Is this about the pears?"

"Yes, this is about the pears." He held up an open palm. She gave him a blank look, and he elaborated. "High five."

She gave a relieved giggle, and clapped her hand against his. "Actually, there's another reason I came by. Never thought I'd miss the studying, but it's been all work and no think, my brain's going soft. Thought maybe you could recommend something to read."

"Oh, I'm sure I could find you something. Although…"

"What?"

"Well, if you're interested, I found a chess set in the back of a cupboard. I don't know if you play..."

"Not since I was a kid, but I was decent at it. Shouldn't be too hard to pick up again. I won't be in your way?"

"Actually, I was looking forward to seeing you for more than just five minutes at a time."

"Aw, d'you miss me?"

"Yep." He cleared a few books off the desk.

Her face softened. "I miss you, too. Things are getting better downstairs with the others, but I can't talk to them the same way. Mind you…" she sat across from him, grinning. "It's possibly just as well that you're not down there, 'cause the kitchen hands say the daftest things and I know that if you so much as look at me it'd set me off. God knows how you manage to keep your poker face the way you do."

"It's a nightmare when the boys are around," Ianto said conspiratorially, setting up the board. "The other day I was out of copies of Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, and Thistlewaite was ranting at me. He actually said the words 'my father will hear about this!'"

Martha clapped her hands over her mouth, giggling. "Did he really?"

"Oh, yeah. Thought I was going to lose it."

"Isn't he blond?"

"He is! And you should hear them all, boasting away about their family trees…"

"Probably never have to lift a finger at home. Hey, I meant to ask, how did you learn to sew?" she asked.

Ianto smiled. "I learned from my father. He was a master tailor; could size a man's inside leg measurement by his stride across the shop's threshold."

"Inherited the family eye, then?" She grinned and looked up from the board.

"Comes in handy." Ianto opened with a pawn. "So. Where do you want to go, when we get out of here?"

Nov 10, 1913

"Jones?" John poked his head into the library, and began ambling about between the shelves. "Jones, have you got a copy of 'The Definitive Account of Mafeking?' I think I missed that one when I came by earlier –" he broke off, spotting them. "There you are! Goodness, what are you two up to?"

"Knitting socks, sir," Martha said evenly, "As you can see."

Ianto hid a crooked smile and captured one of her pawns before getting to his feet. "Your move. I'll go find Mr. Smith's book."

John leaned over her shoulder, eyeing the set-up of the game. "So is this what you get up to on your evenings off? I thought maybe you went down to the village with some of the other maids."

"Sometimes, but usually alone. The other maids don't always favour my company."

"Why ever not?" Martha said nothing, just pointed at her face. "Oh. Oh, dear, I'm very sorry about that."

"That's alright, sir. Oddly enough, I don't really favour their company either. Jenny and I get on well, though, we'll probably go to the tavern for a pint this evening. And if I win this game, Ianto's buying for us."

"Oh, well, that's nice. So, who taught you how to play?"

"My granddad, when I was a kid." She dropped her voice to a conspiratorial stage-whisper. "I'm experimenting a bit with strategy, see if I can't give him a run for -"

"Oh, no, no, you don't want to move your queen there, you'll lose her!"

Martha hid a wince and withdrew her piece. "Quite right, sir, don't know what I was thinking."

"Ah, well, it's a tricky sort of game," John said airily. "I'm sure you'll get the hang of it, in time."

Martha pointedly examined the board for a new move as Ianto handed off the book and an admonition about John's tumble down the stairs earlier that day. When John left, she moved her queen to its intended square, her face carefully nonchalant until she looked up and saw Ianto glowering at the door. "What's wrong?"

"Doesn't matter." He raised an eyebrow at her choice of move, and very deliberately captured her queen with his king.

Martha scowled at the board, before looking up with a brassy grin. "Are we getting a little too familiar with each other? Do we need to remember our place?"

"…No. Why, what happened?"

"Oh, Matron, earlier, said something to that effect. I found out he hit his head, forgot to knock, went a bit – well… med student." She nudged her own king a space.

Ianto smiled. "You worry about him."

"So do you." She cleared her throat. "You can't move there. That's check."

"Oh. So it is." Ianto nibbled his lower lip and relocated his king to an available spot. "I tried telling myself how nice it was to let other adults supervise him for a while."

She giggled and jumped a knight into his back ranks, taking his castle and covering the king's new space. The only available space, now that her bishop had a straight shot to the one he had just occupied. "And?"

"And then he went and hit his head and I realized he's still finding ways to give me gray hair from worry. Even when he's not trying to sacrifice himself to some alien monster every other week." Ianto stared at her. "Dear god, why are you smiling at me like that?"

"Three pints, please," Ianto told the bartender, setting a few notes on the bar.

"Took my advice after all, did you?" John said amiably, weaving between the wooden tables in the crowded, smoky dark pub.

"Hardly," Ianto scoffed. "She won, fair and square."

"'Course she did, good for her." John was still smiling, humouring him, and Ianto just shook his head.

"Excuse me, sir." He picked up the pewter mugs and departed, leaving a baffled and slightly affronted Mr. Smith in his wake.

Jenny's voice carried in the frosty air as he stepped outside the pub. "- very well, those Suffragettes, but that's London. That's miles away."

"But don't you want to scream sometimes?" Martha asked her earnestly. "Having to bow and scrape and behave, don't you just wanna tell them?"

"I dunno. Things must be different in your country." Jenny raised her eyebrows when Ianto approached. "Alright, then, what's that bee in your bonnet?"

He clanked the mugs down and took a dreg from his pint. "Bumped into Mr. Smith. He was under the impression that I did the noble thing and threw the match."

"What gave him that impression?" Martha asked, eyeing him over her tankard.

"Well, it seemed to both of us that the game was in my favour, and he seemed to think it would be the sporting thing to do." Martha frowned, and he went on. "He and I have very different ideas about what would be the sporting thing to do. I daresay overconfidence was my downfall – I wasn't expecting you to sacrifice your queen, that kind of ploy is devilishly tricky to pull off."

"Is it? It seems pretty logical."

"Well, the average player is seldom tempted to give up their most powerful piece, though a trade or a short-term advantage can occur." Ianto waggled a finger. "Your set-up was very elegant. Don't think I'll make the mistake of underestimating you again."

Martha beamed and tipped her pint at him. She took a long swig, tilting her head back to look up at the sky. Green light flared, and she slammed her drink back down. "Did you see that?"

"See what?" Jenny asked.

"Did you see it, though?" She got to her feet, glancing at Ianto, who nodded.

"Barely – that flash of light just now?"

"Yeah, right up there, just for a second."

"There's nothing there!" Jenny insisted.

Ianto tore his eyes away from the sky. "I think it was a shooting star," he suggested, smiling at Jenny. "The Leonids meteor shower is at its peak in mid-November. Keep an eye out, perhaps we'll see more of them."

Martha was still standing, still staring when Matron Redfern came dashing up the lane, breathless and startled.

"Matron, are you alright?"

Staring, searching the skies in the same direction that Martha had been watching, Matron called, "Did you see that? Something in the woods – this light!"

"Anything wrong, ladies? Jones?" John asked, stepping outside and joining them. "Far too cold to be standing around in the dark, don't you—"

"There!" Joan pointed as a flash of green streaked through the night. "There, look in the sky!"

"That's beautiful!" Jenny exclaimed.

"There...all gone," John murmured. "Commonly known as a meteorite," he added out loud for his audience. "It's just rocks falling to the ground, that's all."

Jenny nodded fervently. Ianto and Martha traded a significant look above her head.

"It came down in the woods," said Joan.

"No, no no, they always look close, when actually they're miles off. Nothing left but a cinder," John said dreamily. He departed from his reverie more gently than usual, turning his gaze to her. "Now, I should escort you back to the school. Ladies?" he added over his shoulder. "Jones, are you staying on?"

"We're fine, thanks," Martha said firmly, still staring at the sky.

"Then I shall bid you goodnight."

As soon as they were gone, Martha spoke again.

"Jenny, where was that? On the horizon, where the light was headed."

"That's by Cooper's Field."

Martha glanced at Ianto. "Coming?"

"Yep. Ah, Jenny, will you be alright here? Or would you prefer to catch up with Mr. Smith and Matron?"

"I'm sorry?" Martha was already heading down the lane. "Oh, come on, now, you can't just go running off after fallen stars at this time of night!"

"We'll be fine, just make sure you get back safely."

"Never mind me!" Jenny protested, even as Ianto turned to follow Martha. "It's dark, you'll break a leg!"

With a resigned huff, she got to her feet and ran after them.

"God help me, I've actually missed this," Ianto said breathlessly, cheeks pink with cold as they slowed from their flight and picked their way through to the edge of the woods.

Martha shot him a smile, but it faded quickly. "Yeah, but – what if it's them? What if they've found us?"

"Then - we run like hell?"

"Fair enough," she murmured as Jenny caught up with them, and they stared out across the dark expanse of grass.

"There y'are...Nothing there. I told you so."

"And that's Cooper's Field?"

"As far as the eye can see, and no fallen star. Now come on, I'm frozen to the bone, let's go," Jenny grumbled. "As your Mr Smith says, 'Nothing to see'."

Ianto and Martha stared at each other, and with a naggling sense of disappointment (and a twinge of guilt for the fact that they were disappointed), turned away and followed her back to school.

November 11th, 1913

"Hello," Martha murmured to the dusty, dormant TARDIS. She shook her head. "See what the boys have done? They've got me talking to you, too." She sighed, gazed up at the time rotor. "I've missed you."

It was odd, seeing the TARDIS so silent and empty. It had been an adjustment, at first, to a – well, a living machine. And just when she'd became accustomed to the steady pulse of life, a benign breath and thrum in the background – now there was nothing.

"This working? Okay, kids. 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."

The din of eleven or so jeering boys masked the sound of the classroom door as it was flung open. Said din failed to mask the command that followed.

"Enough!" Ianto barked, reveling in the startled flinches as all eyes turned to him. He held out one hand, palm up. "The cane. Hand it over."

Hutchinson recovered first, drawing himself up to height and holding the cane horizontally in front of him, gripping it with one hand and slapping it into the other. "And why should I do that? We've Mr. Smith's permission."

"I'm sure you do." Ianto's jaw twitched, even as his expression remained neutral. "And now you're done here."

"Perhaps this is something you ought to discuss with Mr. Smith and the Headmaster." At five-foot nine, Hutchinson often had the other boys quick to back down, and Ianto fought a smirk as that tactic visibly failed on his own six feet.

"Perhaps the cache of beer hidden under the panels of the pavilion is something I ought to discuss with them as well?"

Hutchinson's face paled to an interesting milky colour. Ianto waggled his fingers and accepted the cane, standing by as the boys filed out one by one. Timothy was the last one left in the room. His face was red and crumpled, shoulders hunched in as he straightened his clothes.

Ianto hesitated by the door. "I can go, if you need a moment."

Tim shook his head. "No, sir, I'm fine. Thank you."

"You don't have to call me sir."

Tim stared at him curiously. The same words echoed faintly in a peevish London voice, that of a floppy-haired young teacher to a sullen, sodden, button-nosed boy in a strange school hallway, which flickered on the edges of the present one as if out of the corner of one's eye and -

"It wouldn't be proper if I didn't."

"And here I thought it was because none of you ever remembered my name," Ianto said airily as they quit the room and headed down the corridor, and Tim could still hear the echo of the teacher's voice behind Ianto's, and 'sometimes even I don't remember my name!' "Anyway, it's hardly proper of me, interfering with a teacher's discipline," Ianto said in lieu of the absurd notion of forgetting one's own name.

"Why did you?" Tim asked.

Ianto shrugged. "Because I could."

Martha turned up the volume and fast-forwarded through a few seconds.

"Four- you. Don't let me abandon you. And five, very important, five! Don't let me eat pears! I hate pears!"

She grinned to herself. The Pratchett orchards continued to thrive, and she'd been graciously providing John with a new fruit bowl each week at least.

"Six, don't fake an accent or speech patterns, you know this by now.

Seven, it's just occurred to me that the only reason I tell you things like that anymore is because I'm still getting used to the idea that you actually listen, so you'll have to bear with me. But it's nice. Keep it up."

She fast-forwarded a little more, until -

"Thirteen. Martha, don't let Ianto try his hand at world domination while I'm out of commission.

Fourteen. Ianto, if you try to take over the world, I will not take you to Baroque Venice to meet Vivaldi when I wake up. You'll just have to settle for the Housemartins.

Fifteen, the creatures that are following us are lifeforms that have evolved beyond physical bodies into – well, gaseous consciousness, if you like. They hunt by smell despite apparent lack of conventional olfactory receptors, don't ask me how it works, and they're like mayflies, they have incredibly short lifespans, lasting about three months. Some go rogue and possess physical bodies to extend their lives, and this particular family have gotten particularly ambitious by singling me out. By consuming the lifespan of a Time Lord, they could live for - well - pretty much forever."

"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, 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. Your choice. Oh, and- thank you."

Martha sighed at the screen. "I've missed you, too. I wish you'd come back."

Having failed to absorb the content of the last three pages of Catulli Veronensis Liber, Tim looked up from his seat on the little footstool in the corner of the library. Ianto stood upon a stool of his own, peacefully shelving books.

"Were you bullied at school?" Tim asked eventually.

Ianto paused, considered. "Sometimes. I did my best to keep my head down, though."

Tim nodded. "I try to. Mr. Smith told me no man should hide himself, but..."

For some reason, Ianto chuckled. "Did he say that?"

"Earlier today. Why, is that funny?"

Ianto sobered. "Well, I suppose not. I think... Mr. Smith's advice shows that he's had time to forget his own school years."

"I wouldn't think them an easy thing to forget," Tim said slowly.

Ianto shrugged. "People like to convince themselves that their pasts are far rosier than they truly were. In fact, people will convince themselves of anything to avoid facing the reality of their experiences." He glanced at the tome in his hand, and held it up. "And then, they write history books."

"Sorry? I don't follow."

Ianto waggled the book vaguely. "Your drill practice. What Headmaster Rocastle said to you?" He gave it a grimace before shelving it. "Any man who says that war is glorious has either never had to fight one, or fought and now has to convince himself that it was worth it. If his side won, he'll write a history book to tell the next generation that the sacrifices of his side were for a higher cause, and that the other side deserved to suffer defeat."

"So... you think the headmaster's wrong, then?" Tim gazed at him curiously. "About fighting in the dark continent?"

Ianto smiled bitterly. "Tim, I'm Welsh. I can't exactly look favourably on the English fighting anywhere. Boys like you either die in droves or bully the rest of the world into submission. And never mind that it's not a fair fight because you have guns and they have spears - have you lot even asked yourself what you're doing there in the first place?"

Tim hesitated. "The Headmaster says we're bringing civilization to the rest of the world."

"Of course he does. For some men, the promise of power isn't enough to get them to kill. They have to justify the bloodshed somehow. Insisting they know what's best for everybody else is a surprisingly common excuse."

Tim contemplated this. "I don't think I've ever heard it put that way. It sounds a bit..."

"What, harsh? Your lot might be able to convince yourselves that it's worth it, but believe me, nobody else can." Ianto sighed heavily. "I've witnessed firsthand what people do in the name of the British Empire. It was… they destroyed so much -"

Tim flinched under a barrage of fire blood metal pain terror exterminate exterminate delete delete delete –

"Those words make people believe they're doing something glorious, something right and noble," Ianto went on, staring at something very far away, "so no one questions them when they're hurting others. Even when it hurts their own people."

Bodies on the floor bodies strapped in metal screaming smoke and sweat and Ianto's eyes landed on Tim, hands white-knuckled around the book and the furrow between his eyes and the stiffness in his jaw and stop stop make it stop. He paused, swore inwardly for not keeping a better rein on his shields, then focused his efforts, and pushed the memories down beneath his psychic barriers. He watched carefully, projecting calm and speaking in a low, even voice as Tim appeared to relax, confused but no longer panicked.

"And people stand by. Whether they believe in the same vision... or they're too afraid of reprisals to intervene, or are simply plugging along, living their lives, and they don't understand why they should. Bullies love people like that. They make the job so much easier."

"So which is it, then? Keep your head down and let them get away with it? Or speak up and get beaten for your trouble?"

Ianto grimaced. "That'll be your decision to make. Although," he added, "I find there's something to be said for finding subtler ways to make your point."

"So you're saying I should blackmail the Headmaster?" Tim said, so straight-faced that for a moment Ianto was afraid that he was serious.

Ianto gave up trying to look disapproving. "Well, I won't tell you that you shouldn't blackmail the Headmaster..."

"And why, pray, are we blackmailing the Headmaster?"

Tim started in his seat. Ianto's own guilty jump made him stumble off the stool, which flipped over with a thunk.

"Martha!" He righted it hastily while she stared at them from the doorway. Then he stood up straight, nearly ran a hand through his hair, decided against it, and settled on pushing back his jacket to place his hands on his hips. "We're, um, plotting to bring down the British Empire. Want to help?"

"I leave you alone for five minutes..." Martha sighed and shook her head. "Can I have a word when you boys are finished plotting?"

"Of course. Everything okay?"

She made a face. "There's... a bit of a complication."

Tim stood up. "Actually, it's nearly time for supper, I should be going." He glanced at Ianto and added "Thank you."

Ianto nodded. "Any time."

With a polite smile to Martha, Tim departed, steps measured and quiet like a solemn ghost. Martha entered the library and paced among the shelves, a more restless and agitated spirit.

"It's Smith and Matron," she blurted out as soon as they were out of earshot. "I walked in on them. Kissing."

Ianto winced. "Oh, hell."

"Wh – did you know? Did you know they were falling in love?"

"No, no, I certainly didn't think it was quite to that point at least. I knew they were friendly, and I've seen her drop a few hints now and again, but it appeared that he was too dim to notice. So I'd hoped, anyway."

Martha gave a frustrated growl and dropped onto Tim's vacated footstool. "This is all we need. He didn't even think about women! What are we supposed to do now?"

Ianto sat too, resting his elbows on his knees and folding his hands pensively. "Well, we have options. We could leave well enough alone, and hope for the best. I could have a word with John, or with Matron, or even the Headmaster, if necessary. If I thought we'd be here for another month yet, and they had time to get attached, and the Family's lifespan ran out while they were out there somewhere, then I'd be far more concerned. But we've had that 'meteor shower', and Tim's acting funny, and… I can't help but think this will be over soon."

"You may be right." Martha sighed. "Poor Mr. Smith. He never had a say in this, did he? He had to go and fall in love with a human. He had to go and be so bloody human. And why wouldn't he? It's awful, really. It was easy enough to think about bringing the Doctor back, but... we're going to have to do it, aren't we? We're going to have to kill John Smith."

"Sixteen, about that possessing physical bodies thing - keep a sharp eye out for anyone who starts acting strangely."

"There you are! 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? Are you alright?"

"I must have a cold coming on."

"Problem is, I keep thinking about them but I don't know what to do."

"Thinking about who?"

"Mr Smith and Matron. Cause it's never gonna last, he's gonna leave in a few weeks."

"Why?"

"It's like his contract comes to an end. And she's gonna 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. Tell me. Tell me now."

"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."

"Okay, for real this time," Martha announced, not having bothered to knock this time as she burst unceremoniously into the library, thankfully empty save for Ianto at his desk. "They've found us."

Ianto stowed his diary in his pocket and was on his feet in an instant, moving around to the front of the desk.

"Are you alright? What happened?"

"Fine. I'm fine." Twitching with adrenaline, she wrapped her fingers around the back of a chair and gripped it hard. "They got Jenny. Possessed her, or copied her or something. She came back to our room, she was acting funny, I figured something was up and got out in time." Her voice cracked, her throat strained and taught.

Ianto watched her carefully. "And..."

"And then she tried to shoot me from the window," Martha finished, waving him away when he took a step closer. "I'm fine, honest. Ianto, we've got to open the watch."

"Looks like it. Let's go." He straightened his tie, touched the lining where he'd stitched the chain of his TARDIS key, and followed her to the door. "Wouldn't hurt to work on a plan, too. If the Family can track by smell, we won't have much time between now and once we've got him back."

"Right. If Matron's still with him, we'll need to get her away to somewhere safe."

"Yes - probably we should head for the TARDIS straight off, try to draw them away from the school."

"Oh, god, if they've got Jenny, then they could have others."

"Good point, we'll need to keep an eye out. How was Jenny acting?"

"Right, um, when she walked in the room she just sort of stood there, like she didn't know why she came in. And her voice was sort of vague, but her eyes were really intense. Like she's looking right through you and can see right into your soul but just stares at the wall behind you. Oh, and she was sniffing - said she had a cold, I'm guessing that's the track-by-smell thing, and she was asking me questions about things I'd already talked about. Sorry, I don't know if any of that was helpful, it was only about a minute or two -"

"Not bad, actually. Okay, back when they were first chasing us, you asked about containment fields, now, he said a temporal containment would just give them energy and a physical trap wouldn't do any good with their ship and gadgets. But if they're possessing humans, then physical containment might not be out of the question."

When they reached Smith's door, Ianto knocked sharply but didn't wait for a reply. Smith and Joan sprang apart, flustered but exasperated as he and Martha entered the study.

"Mr. Smith, we need to have a word."

Smith raised an eyebrow, looking unimpressed. "Go on, then."

"I'm afraid our time is up. We need to open the watch."

"I'm sorry?"

"The fob watch. You wrote about it in your journal, you had a dream about it, remember?"

"The one where we were hiding from the creatures, the ones like green smoke?" Martha urged. "They're here, they're coming for you."

"Martha, that was a dream."

"John. Mr. Smith," Ianto gritted out. "It was real. The Doctor is real. He locked his mind inside the fob watch and became human. He became you, and we need him back."

"Oh, god, Ianto?" Martha said from the fireplace. "It's gone! The watch is gone, it was here, I know it was here when I dusted this morning."

Smith raised his eyebrows in dawning comprehension. "It's quite alright, I understand perfectly. Really, Jones, you ought to be ashamed of yourself. Martha, I'm sorry, this must be so confusing for you. Jones has been helping me put together the journal of those dreams I've been having, and evidently thought it would be funny if he could convince me they were real."

Martha pinched the bridge of her nose. "Oh, for the love of -"

"And if that's not enough, he's roped you into it as well. Of course, I don't blame you at all - cultural differences," he added aside to Joan. "It's perfectly rotten of him to take advantage of -"

"Five minutes ago, my friend Jenny tried to shoot me!" Martha snapped. "This isn't a joke, or a story, or a dream." She glanced back to the mantle, scanning the sides and floor in the hopes that it had merely fallen off. "Oh, god, we've lost the watch, you're going to bloody kill us when you wake up."

"On the upside, he won't be able to if we can't find it," Ianto said distractedly, rifling through John's papers.

Martha paused and shot him an incredulous look. "That's not an upside."

"Nope, not really." He started to rummage through the top desk drawer, and John put his foot down.

"Jones, this is appalling behaviour, I'm going to have to insist that you leave my study immediately."

Ianto ignored him. "Matron, have you seen any sign of a fob watch while you've been in here? Pewter, with circles on the cover?"

"There was a watch, yes," Joan said coolly. "I saw it on the mantle yesterday, when he showed me the journal. And I rather think you've taken this a bit too far."

"Has anyone else been in here today?" Martha asked heedlessly.

"Now, I - really! Just Latimer, Timothy Latimer, I gave him that copy of Mafeking."

Wide-eyed, Ianto spun around and ran a hand up through his hair.

Martha stared at him. "You said Tim was acting funny."

"He was. I thought he was just distracted, seeing as how someone gave the other boys permission to cane him."

Martha rounded on Smith. "Doctor! You didn't!" She paused, made a face at her slip and retrieved her indignant expression.

"That's quite enough out of both of you!" Smith sputtered. "I've half a mind to report you both to the Headmaster, I hope you realize that this could be grounds for dismissal -"

Martha cut him off. "People will die if we don't get the Doctor back in time." She turned to Ianto. "Have we got any way of jogging his memory without the watch?"

"Not that I can think of," Ianto answered grimly, still speaking as if Smith wasn't even in the room. "Honestly, I don't think we've got a way of convincing him short of hauling him out to the barn and showing him the TARDIS, and we just don't have time."

Smith looked alarmed, but couldn't get a word in edgewise.

"Jenny's probably going to follow us straight here."

"Then we'll have to hope she stays on our trail and doesn't follow him. Tim's our only lead right now, we need to track him down." Martha nodded, heading for the door. "Mr. Smith, if you see him, get the watch back,"Ianto added.

Smith glared at him, but Martha risked a final warning anyway. "And if you see Jenny, don't tell her anything. C'mon, Ianto."

Stop. Stay. Keep yourself hidden.

Tim pressed himself against the stone wall off the side of the courtyard. Martha ran past him, out the gates and down the lane, heading towards the fields on the west side of the school.

A few minutes later, Mr. Smith and Matron departed from the school grounds, arm in arm as they left for the village, and he followed them.

"Any luck?" Martha asked, breathless as she came dashing up the lane to meet Ianto at the gates.

"Good news and bad news. Bad news is, no sign of Tim, or the watch. I tried Carruthers' little magpie stash - he's got notoriously sticky fingers - nothing. Nothing from talking to the other boys, save for some frankly appalling insinuations. And I checked the study again when Smith and Matron left, just to see if we missed it." Martha nodded, letting him talk while she caught her breath. "They got Jeremy Baines, he was with Jenny - they got into Smith's room just after I left. Mr. Clarke from the village was hanging around the library, I think they've got him, good news is that they don't appear to have found Tim either, so I don't think he's one of them. Also, your plan is working nicely: they've been going in circles all over the school, everywhere that we've been in the past half hour. "

"Okay, good work. So when you said Tim was acting funny -"

"I'm honestly not sure. That funny stare you talked about, he does that, but as far as I know he's done that ever since we showed up. But there was a moment earlier - I think he picked up on some things I was thinking about, he could have some kind of psychic or empathic ability; a bit like the way Will could see through psychic paper."

"Could explain if he's a step ahead. Okay, so we can't find Tim or the watch, what now?"

"We could head to Cooper's Field, find their ship - maybe we can shut it down with the screwdriver. Did you find it?"

"Yep. It's not a bad thought, but we've put them on the Doctor's trail. If they go for Smith, they'll be headed to the village next. Even if we can't bring him back - yet - we need to keep them away from him. And if we can't do that, we'll have to convince him he's in danger and get him away from everyone else."

"Ooh, staff entrance, I think, Miss!" the old man at the door admonished.

"Yeah, well, think again, mate." Martha was about to storm past into the dance hall, but Ianto paused and considered the old veteran for a moment.

"We might need a back door," he suggested. "Want me to go scope it out?"

She nodded and disappeared inside the dance hall. The old man looked thunderstruck, glancing at Ianto uncertainly, who shrugged and approached.

"Some of the boys at the school got into some beer and they've run quite amok. I believe they intend to, ah, crash the gate, and we've come to warn the guests. It might be best if you stayed clear of the building until we get them back in line."

"Disgraceful," the old man barked. "In my day, we had proper discipline -"

"Yes, of course. Don't know what this country's coming to," Ianto agreed hastily. "If you'll pardon me, I need to pop 'round the back to let the staff know. If you see them coming, don't engage with them. Come straight inside and let someone know, would you do that?"

The old man muttered about how the Headmaster 'should give them all a proper whipping', which Ianto took for a grudging assent, hurrying off around the side of the building.

"Please, don't. Not again," Matron entreated when Martha slipped through the crowd of couples and sat at her table.

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

Matron sighed in resignation. "Yes."

"And sometimes he says these strange things," Martha pressed, "like people and places you've never heard of, yeah? You said yourself, it's like he's left the kettle on. Like he's forgotten something. And you were right. Those creatures, they're called the Family of Blood, and they're hunting us."

"Oh, now really, Martha," Smith said in a pained voice as he approached with drinks. "This is getting out of hand. I must insist that you leave."

"Do you know what this is?" She pulled the sonic screwdriver from her pocket. "Name it. Go on."

John stared at it balefully, at Martha as though almost betrayed.

"John, what is that silly thing? John?"

"It's real." He wouldn't take it, even as Martha held it out. "It's all real, and you're in danger, and as long as you're here so is Matron and everybody else."

"Big time." Ianto practically materialized behind John's shoulder, pale and grim. "They've got an army."

Martha's eyes widened. "What?"

"Scarecrows. Lots of them. Moving ones. They've got the building surrounded. I locked the staff entrance but that won't do much good if they're guarding it anyway."

"Scarecrows, Jones, what fresh nonsense is this?"

Ianto gritted his teeth and took a deep breath. And at the other end of the room there came the stamp of boots and the crash of an overturned coat rack.

"There! Will! Be! SILENCE! ALL OF YOU!" bellowed the intruder, a man with impressive whiskers and impressive bulk, who was followed by Baines and Jenny. Startled, the guests obeyed, but for a few gasps as a handful of scarecrows filed in behind them with ungainly slump."I! Said! SILENCE!"

"Mr. Clarke, what's going on?" the announcer protested.

There was a moment of pause, and Clarke wheeled around, pulled a great bug-like armored gun, and shot him with a bolt of green light, until particles of fine dust fluttered to the floor.

The room erupted into screams.

Ianto flinched. "I hate to say I told you so -"

"Mr. Smith, don't say anything," Martha said firmly.

"We asked for SILENCE!" Baines roared, and the guests, skittering about the room in a panic, were cowed immediately. "Now, then. We have a few questions for Mr. Smith."

Martha squeezed Ianto's hand - they didn't remember having reached out for each other - and then let go. She pulled the sonic screwdriver from her pocket and turned to face the Family of Blood.

"He cannot answer any of your questions!" Martha's voice rang out as she took a step forward. "But I can." She smiled. "Hello. I'm the Doctor."