"Give it back!"

"No, I won't."

Amelia went closer and peered round a tree. She saw a boy and a girl running through the woods. The boy held a jam jar above his head and the girl was stretching to reach it.

Amelia stepped out from around the tree. "What are you doing?"

They stopped and looked at her. The boy still held the jam jar up and the girl pulled at his arm. "She's keeping ladybirds in a jam jar," the boy said. "It's cruel."

"They're mine." The girl gave an insistent pull and Amelia took advantage of her height to reach up, take the jam jar and look inside. There were hundreds of ladybirds in there. Most of them were red, but some were yellow and a few were orange.

"I think we should let them go," she said, watching them crawl up the side of the jar and flutter their wings, only to hit the lid.

The boy smiled. She returned it when she passed the jar back to him, then turned to glare at the girl while he took the lid off. The girl shrugged, but they both watched the ladybirds as they found freedom. "Look at them fly," the girl said, amazed.

"They look happier now." Amelia was pleased that she could help.

The girl smiled at her and by the time all the ladybirds had flown away home, Amelia had made two friends in Leadworth.

~*~

Rory had been the first person she told. Amelia thought that he would believe her more easily than Melody would. He'd nodded at everything and asked questions, then put on her dad's blazer when she held it out. Now she had her Raggedy Doctor, all she had to do was explain to Melody, but at least she had Rory to back her up.

"He flies around in a blue box that has a swimming pool in the library and he saves the world from aliens."

Melody frowned. "And he looks like Rory?"

"Not really." The Doctor hadn't been as neat and nor did his jacket have the sleeves rolled up so many times that there was more roll than sleeve. "It doesn't matter, it's just pretend. Rory's the Doctor, I'm helping him and you can be the alien."

Melody thought about that before saying anything. Amelia hoped she wouldn't complain and want to be something else. But she didn't. "What sort of alien?" she asked.

Amelia shrugged. "Any sort you like." The Doctor hadn't really talked about those much, so she didn't know what type of aliens he usually fought. She hadn't seen any aliens herself.

Melody grinned. "Then I'll be a slimy alien." She ran a hand down Amelia's arm and Amelia made a face, pretending Melody had left a slimy trail on her sleeve. "You'll have to catch me before I slime anyone else!" She pushed Amelia over and ran off. Amelia laughed as Rory helped her up and they chased after Melody. This was going to be her new favourite game.

~*~

Mels pulled off the wrapping paper, not caring about what else she ripped. When she picked up the jumper she held it up and made a face at it. "Where did you get this?"

"I made it," Amelia said proudly. Her mother had been teaching her to knit while it was cold and dark outside. She'd wanted to make something for her friends for Christmas and she'd been excited about knitting jumpers with pictures on the front. It had taken over a year to make all three, but now they had matching ones.

Rory had by now pulled his out, hardly ripping the paper at all, and was looking at it curiously. Mels stared at the picture on hers and tilted her head to either side while Amelia waited. Finally Mels spoke. "I give up. What is it?"

Amelia sighed. "It's a Christmas tree."

"It's a very good Christmas tree," Rory said. "Thank you. No one except my mum's ever knitted me a jumper before."

Amelia beamed. Trust Rory to say the right thing. Mels never did. She wasn't like other people.

"It looks like a green blob with tentacles," Mels said.

Amelia's face fell. She knew she wasn't that good yet, but it wasn't that bad.

"Then it would be perfect for when we're playing Raggedy Doctor," Rory said.

Mels shrugged but Amelia no longer cared what she thought. Given Rory's lack of enthusiasm for their old game recently, she had thought he was getting bored of it. So she nearly knocked him over as she hugged him and forgot Mels' opinion of her knitting.

~*~

"I can't believe you've never done this," Amy said, sitting on a branch above Rory and Mels' heads and swinging her legs.

Mels shrugged. "Never thought of it."

Mels was odd sometimes. "Everyone knows how to climb a tree."

"We'll teach you," Rory suggested. "I'll give you a boost." He leaned down, his hands out for her to step into.

"Are you sure it's safe?" Mels asked, looking down at his hands, then up at the tree.

Amy frowned. "Since when did you care about safe? Anyway, if you break something Rory'll look after you. It'll be good practise for when he's a nurse."

"I won't let you fall," Rory promised.

"The tree might not like it," Mels said, but stepped onto his hands anyway. With her hand on his shoulder, him helped lift her so she could get up to the branch beside Amy. Rory followed the traditional way and straddled the branch opposite.

"Isn't it great up here?" Amy said.

Mels made a face and pulled a leafy twig out from her hair. "If you like bark."

"You can see further than when you're on the ground," Rory pointed out.

Mels cautiously looked around, hanging onto the branch with one hand and smiled at what she saw. "See you later." She dropped down and ran off.

Rory shrugged at Amy's questioning look. "At least she'll climb a tree again."

Amy had to be satisfied with that.

~*~

"Rory!" Amy could run faster than Rory now and she caught up with him at the front door. "Rory, I get it." She hadn't needed Rory or Mels to tell her the real reason he had never looked at another girl. Even if she had needed Mels to point it out and Rory to tell her he wasn't gay. She just hadn't thought about it like that before now.

Rory didn't say anything or take his hand off the door handle. He wouldn't even look at her. "Let's go out," Amy said.

"That's what I'm doing."

She smiled at his misunderstanding. "No, I mean us. As a couple."

Now he turned to her, doing his best not to look hurt, but she knew him too well to be fooled. "You said that was impossible."

She shook her head. "That was because I thought you were gay. All this time I couldn't think about you as anything other than a friend."

"And now?" He was starting to look interested at least.

"You're my best friend. And I meant it when I said you were gorgeous."

He dropped his head, but now it was to hide his blush.

Amy giggled. "Oh, come on. It'll be fun. Just the two of us doing date-like things."

"All right." He looked up at her now, his expression sceptical, but amused.

She smiled and he returned it. Then she leaned forward and kissed him, partly to see what he would do and partly because she wanted to know what kissing Rory was like. It was brief, but he kissed back and Amy definitely wanted to do more of that.

"Friday," he said after. "Now I've got to go or I'll be late." He rushed out and left her to watch him walk down the path. Once he was out of sight she shut the door and went back upstairs to ask Mels how she'd known.

"What can you see?" she whispered. From here she had to turn her head to look and she didn't want them to be spotted, even though they were in the shadows.

"I think--" Ian said before he stopped suddenly and kissed Barbara, surprising her.

When he stopped, she looked up at him, her fast heartbeat not just from the fear of being discovered. She'd forgotten where they were until she saw movement out of the corner of her eye. She looked round to find the people they were watching had moved along and were trying to break into the post office. Worse, they were most definitely aliens - when they passed under a street light she could see their skin glowed gold. "We should call the police," she suggested.

Ian shook his head. "The police wouldn't know what to do with them." Before she could ask what the two of them could do against four aliens he said, "Stay there," and ran off towards the post office.

Now that all the aliens were inside and hadn't posted a look-out they could see from here, going closer wasn't so dangerous, but there was still a risk Ian could be seen. Barbara wanted to shout at him for going closer, but then they would definitely know he was there. So she stayed where she was and watched and worried as he opened the door of the aliens' car and started the engine. Then she understood what he was doing and ran over to meet him as he drove towards where she was waiting. The alarm that went off inside the post office suggested that the aliens weren't likely to be in there much longer.

"They won't get very far," he said, as he sped off around the corner and out of sight. "They should have had a getaway driver."

"They're very inept criminals." She smiled at him and he grinned back.

"Let's go to dinner and leave them to it." He parked the car down the road from what had been their intended destination, before they were waylaid by the promise of adventure.

"Didn't we come home to have a normal life free from aliens?" she asked, as they left the car with the keys in the ignition and walked up the road. There was no one following them, despite her worry that the aliens would find them. The police would surely get involved now and she wasn't sure what they would think about people with gold coloured skin. Or whether Ian was more interested in adventure and chasing aliens or dinner and a normal life. Come to think of it, she wasn't sure which she would prefer.

"We can do that too." Ian stopped suddenly and kissed her again.

Barbara smiled and found she had already forgotten all about the alien robbers.

2.
"That monkey has three arms," Jo said, frowning as she peered into the tree.

Cliff shrugged and didn't so much as glance up from the patch of ground he was studying for signs of the mushroom. "It's probably a mutation."

Jo didn't know enough about biology to know if monkeys were capable of that large a mutation, but if Cliff thought it was likely then it was good enough for her. Or it would be if that was its only difference from other monkeys. "It's also green," she said to his back.

"Good camouflage." He must have discovered the mushroom wasn't there and he started walking, writing something in his notebook as he went.

She folded her arms and waited. It took a few moments before he looked up and around and then finally back at her.

"Did you say it was a green monkey with three arms?" he asked as he returned to her.

She nodded. At least he'd been listening.

"You think it's an alien?" He didn't sound sure, but then she'd seen more aliens than he had.

"Yes, I do."

He looked up into the tree, watching as the monkey swung from branch to branch to settle down in the next tree along. "What do you want to do about it?"

Since they were in the middle of nowhere and the nearest phone was a day's walk away, they couldn't call anyone to help. Not that anyone would be able to get here before they lost the monkey. "Let's find out if it's intelligent," she suggested. She followed its path to stop underneath the tree it was currently sitting in. Then she cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted up at it, "Hey, you!"

The monkey turned to look at them, then threw down the remains of a piece of fruit it had been eating. The fruit went splat at Jo's feet.

"I think that's a yes," Cliff unhelpfully pointed out.

Jo wasn't about to give up, especially if it could understand them. "Wouldn't you like to go home?" she called up to it.

Her answer was another piece of fruit. It would have landed on her shoes if she hadn't taken a step backwards just in time.

"I think it's happy here," Cliff said. "I don't think it's doing any harm."

She looked over at him. "If the Doctor was here he could take it home." Cliff took her hand and she smiled at him. "It might take him a few attempts," she admitted, smiling too. "It's happy here," she decided. "Let's just leave it."

She let him lead her onwards and they forgot all about the alien monkey for several years until they heard reports of a new species discovered in the Amazon. When they returned to see it for themselves they found the alien must have bred with the native monkey population to produce a variety of monkeys that were either green or had three arms. The experts were baffled, but neither Jo nor Cliff thought they would believe the truth. But Jo and Cliff knew and that was enough.

3.
"Why did I agree to do this?" Harry grimaced as he and Sarah stepped out of their hotel room and he locked the door. A night spent on the floor hadn't done his back any good and he ached all over.

"Because everyone here has to be married," Sarah reminded him, then suddenly turned and kissed him.

For a moment he remembered exactly why he'd given in to her pleading to help her with an investigation that apparently no one else in the world could help with. Then he opened his eyes and discovered she was looking at something over his shoulder. It wasn't as if he was asking for a bit of romance, but Sarah played pretending to be married badly. He ended the kiss, reminding himself not to be fooled, and waited for her to tell him what was going on.

"It's not just corruption," she said, "it's aliens." Her eyes sparkled.

He sighed. He had supposed that when he'd left UNIT that would be the end of deadly adventures with aliens. He hadn't reckoned on his friendship with Sarah pulling him right back into the world it seemed she'd never left.

"Come along, darling," she said, in a tone that Harry couldn't believe no one else found suspicious. At least he couldn't until they reached reception. Various couples were seated on the sofas dotted around the foyer. Most of them were kissing. Some of them looked like they were on their way to doing more than just that.

"Um," Harry said. That wasn't normal, even for this place, and it was an odd, badly-run hotel. Surprisingly, none of the other couples had any complaints about their stay.

"Why aren't we affected?" Sarah frowned at him. "Unless you have to be in love."

That couldn't possibly be it because Harry still had no desire to kiss Sarah like that in public. He didn't dare say it, though. "It could be any number of things. They did state that you had to be married, not just in love," he pointed out.

Sarah stuck out her left hand and stared at it. They had the rings and the forged papers, but not the actual marriage. "Kiss the receptionist," she said suddenly, putting her hand in her pocket.

"What?" he frowned.

"We have to do something, to shock them or break their hold. They won't be expecting adultery."

He had a feeling that even if it were adultery Sarah would still suggest it, if it meant getting a story. It didn't explain why he'd ended up being her skivvy and he attempted to put his foot down. "Why don't you kiss her?"

She sighed. "Look, she's pretty, Harry. What more do you want?"

As an attempt it was a miserable failure. Sarah always got what she wanted, it was merely a question of how long it took her to talk him into it. Kissing random strangers, no matter how pretty, wasn't something he did and nor was adultery. So he took off his ring and passed it to her, not intending to put it back on, no matter what happened next. Before he could change his mind, he walked up to the receptionist and kissed her.

She turned out to be an alien of course.

After that there was general chaos and Sarah trying to talk the aliens into leaving, while Harry tried to stay out of the way. He wasn't sure how successful she'd been given that they got thrown out.

"I don't know how I'm going to write this up," Sarah said, standing on the pavement and staring at the hotel.

Harry smiled. "I'm sure you'll think of something, old girl."

4.
"Rabbits," Tegan cursed as she heard the band say good night and the sound of music was replaced by the chatter of thousands of people leaving the arena. She'd been hoping the band would be on stage for longer. Now she would be trying to hunt a blue slithering alien while evading more security people. Not to mention the man carrying a guitar who came from around the corner and stopped right in front of her. "I don't suppose you've seen a big, blue caterpillar anywhere, have you?" she asked him. Sometimes brazenly telling the truth got you further than lying.

He gave her an odd look. "No, I can't say I have. Are you supposed to be back here?"

"That depends on how you look at it." She was probably the only person here qualified to know that the thing that looked like a big, blue caterpillar was really an alien.

"Right." He clearly didn't believe her. "I suppose you'd like an autograph."

She shook her head. "I'd rather wait until I caught the caterpillar-like thing, if it's all the same to you." Although it might stop Jenny from complaining Tegan abandoned her if she returned with an autograph.

He gave her an odd look. "You don't know who I am, do you?"

"Of course I do, you're in the band. And there it is!" She pointed toward where the creature had slithered off towards the toilets and ran after it.

The man put his guitar back around his neck and followed her. "Why would you come to a concert if you don't recognise the band?"

"Jenny dragged me."

"So you got bored and came backstage?"

Tegan decided to use the fact that she was running as an excuse not to answer that one. She knew the music, so she hadn't been that bored, they'd just been so far away they couldn't see anything, which made her wonder what the point of being here was. Having caught up to the caterpillar, she took a leap and rugby tackled it.

"It really is an alien."

Tegan was too busy stopping it from escaping under her that she failed to appreciate for a minute that she hadn't mentioned the creature was an alien. "A little help would be appreciated."

It turned out that the man's guitar strings came in handy for tying it up. By the time they were done all it could do was wriggle helplessly on the ground.

"You've seen aliens before?" Tegan asked, given his blasé attitude about the whole thing.

The man shook his head. "My parents always claimed they'd seen aliens. I never believed them." He smiled and stretched out a hand. "I'm Johnny."

"Tegan." She shook his hand.

"We're playing here again tomorrow night. I'll get you some free tickets, then you can see the songs you missed. And a proper backstage pass too." Tegan hesitated and he stepped closer to whisper in her ear. "Maybe you can check for aliens before we go on."

She couldn't resist that grin or another chance to see him.

5.
Performing CPR on an alien was a tricky thing. It was hard enough to work out where the heart was (or even if there was just the one) with medical equipment and a heartbeat. It was harder when you were kneeling in the road in the middle of a crowd of onlookers, trying to establish if there was a heartbeat. Or even a heart, in this case.

"Allow me, I'm a doctor."

Harry looked up from his patient to see a young woman kneeling across from him on the other side of the alien. "Not of him you're not," he said, although the alien could have female, it was hard to tell. It was generally simplest to pick a pronoun until the aliens could reveal which they preferred. If they had one of those too.

"You'd be surprised," the woman said, pulling a stethoscope out of her bag and pressing it against various parts of the alien's torso. She was at least more prepared for a traffic accident than he was, but then he had just been for a quiet walk and not expecting his medical skills to be needed.

"Who are you?" She didn't looked fazed by the alien's appearance. Harry was sure he could see crumpled wings beneath it. Unless it was just his coat, it was hard to tell.

She smiled. "Martha Jones. And don't worry, I'm sure he's going to be fine."

Harry wasn't so sure. "Harry Sullivan. I have seen aliens before." He wasn't going to let her pull the wool over his eyes.

"Oh." She took the stethoscope out of her ears to look up at him instead.

"I'm a doctor too," he added. "I think he might be dead."

"I think you're right," she admitted. She sighed and sat back on her heels. He was tempted to tell her it wasn't her fault, she only just got here, but this was unlikely to be the first time she'd lost a patient, despite how young she looked. "But we can't leave him here."

"Leave it to me," he said and then realised that calling UNIT would be tricky from the middle of the road and there weren't as many phone boxes as there used to be. "Er, I don't suppose you have one of those mobile phone things?"

She laughed and passed him her phone. After Martha's introduction to UNIT, Harry took her to the pub to tell her all about how he knew about aliens. At least, that was how he justified it...

"Are you looking for Sarah?" Across the road a woman closed the door of a van with "Bloomin' Lovely" printed on the side.

Jo waited until she'd reached the pavement on this side before answering. "I am. Do you know where she is?"

"She went out. Took my daughter with her. Rani wants to be a journalist and Sarah's so good to her, showing her the ropes."

Given what she'd heard, chances were that Sarah Jane had gone to investigate something alien and could be gone a while. But Jo couldn't wait.

"Can I help?" the woman asked, while Jo was thinking about what to do next.

"I just came to give her this." Jo pulled a grey object the size of a mobile phone out of her pocket. Given all the alien activity in the area, this woman was bound to know what to do with it while Sarah Jane was out.

"Oh, what is it?" Before Jo could protest the woman took the object from her hand, at which point it turned into a spidery-like thing. Surprised, the woman screamed and dropped it. The spider ran off down the road, clicking as it went.

"We have to catch it!" Jo started after it.

"It's just a spider," the woman complained, but at least she was running too.

"It's not just a spider," Jo replied. "It's designed to send signals into space to let invaders know where to land."

"We don't want the French over here."

Jo supposed that was a code word for aliens. They were in the middle of Ealing after all and should probably be careful about what they said. "There it is!" She managed to put on a burst of speed and caught one of its legs with the tip of her boot.

"Well done," the woman said, panting beside her.

Their victory was short-lived because the spider just detached that leg and carried on.

"Oh, no, you don't." The woman took off her shoe and threw it at the spider. Jo couldn't tell if it was luck or a good aim, but she hit it and the spider went still.

Jo picked it up. It looked like a dead, grey, robotic spider now.

"Don't let it fall into enemy hands," the woman said.

"I think it's dead." It should have folded up back into its original shape, but it just lay there, lifeless. Jo stroked it, to no effect.

"Well, we won't be invaded, will we? Got to look on the bright side."

Jo smiled. There was no point in explaining where it had come from and that the aliens who'd left it were threatening violence unless they got it back. She hadn't even meant to take it in the first place. But all she said was, "Thank you for your help." It would have been worse if she hadn't got the spider back.

"You're welcome, my darling." The woman smiled at her and walked back up to the van she'd come from.

Jo put the spider in her pocket and left a message on Sarah Jane's voice mail. Which, she reflected, she should have done in the first place.

"Emma Peel," she introduced herself, holding out her hand. "I heard you're the person to go to when the world needs saving."

"Sarah Jane Smith." She shook Emma's hand. "I suppose I am. Where did you hear about me?"

"Steed has connections," she said cryptically and smiled. "Get in."

The car was old, but Sarah Jane had to admit, it was fun to drive in. "What needs saving exactly?" she asked, going back to the important question.

"Time." Emma looked over at her, smiling. "A diabolical mastermind is wiping out whole decades of history. It was the 1960s only this morning."

"I have a computer that could help." Admittedly, Sarah Jane could phone him, if she dared get her mobile out in this wind, but he was a lot easier to talk to from the attic, which they were now travelling away from at a ludicrous speed for an old car.

"We don't need computers." Emma turned the car off down a lane and towards a large house.

Half of the house looked Tudor from the front, the other half looked like it had been built in the past twenty years. The two halves didn't quite mesh. As Emma parked the car in front of it, what Sarah Jane assumed was the butler opened the door.

"Mrs Peel," the butler said. "We've been expecting you."

"I do hope I'm not late. It's so hard to tell with the year changing so rapidly." Despite her light tone there was an underside of sarcasm that told Sarah Jane that perhaps Emma hadn't been expecting them to expect her.

"I'll sneak round the back," Sarah Jane said.

Emma gave a small nod and headed inside the house.

Sarah Jane left her to the mercies of the butler and meandered up the drive, pretending to look at the flowers. Once the front door was shut she ran as quietly as she could around the house until she found the back door. She soniced the lock and then set about finding the diabolical mastermind in charge of this house.

After two hallways, a kitchen, a library and a laundry room, she finally heard voices. One sounded a little like the butler, but the other was definitely Emma. They were behind a heavy, wooden door that was open a crack. Sarah Jane pushed it, hoping it wouldn't creak. Once she had it open far enough, she peered inside.

Emma was tied to a table, but pulling at the ropes that secured her. The butler was smiling and standing in front of a machine that took up a whole wall. It reminded her of the console in the TARDIS. This had the same buttons and levers, but was a different shape. As she watched, the butler pulled a lever and Emma began to grow wrinkles and her hair turned grey.

Sarah Jane opened the door with a crash. She couldn't let him age Emma. She aimed the sonic lipstick at the machine and it sparked.

"No!" the butler cried. "I won't let you get away with this!" He began pulling out wires, and as he was preoccupied, Sarah Jane went over to Emma to undo the ropes.

Her hands had some age spots, Sarah Jane noticed. "I'm sorry," she said.

"We haven't finished yet." As soon as she was free, Emma jumped up and kicked the butler, sending him flying into the machine.

It sparked some more, and Sarah Jane and Emma jumped back out of the way. The machine screeched before its humming quieted and finally stopped. The butler aged from forty to eighty in the space of a few minutes and finally dropped to the floor.

"Is that it?" Sarah Jane asked. But she could see that it was, just by looking at Emma. She was already going back to the age she'd been when they first met. "We did it!" She hugged Emma, who looked a bit surprised at the gesture.

"We're going back to the times we came from." That would explain why Emma was starting to look transparent. "I'm afraid you'll have to make your own way home."

As she disappeared the room around her changed and became a sitting room.

"How did you get in here?"

Sarah Jane turned to see a cross, well-dressed woman looking furious. She didn't stay and explain - it was always far better to run.

Rose rounded the corner to find a girl not much older than she kicking a drainpipe. "What's the drainpipe ever done to you?" she asked, joking. But her smile turned to a frown when she saw something purple and furry slithering out of the drainpipe. "What's that?"

"Not dead," the dark haired girl replied, not quite answering her question. As she turned to Rose and then back to the drainpipe Rose noticed she had 'Ace' written on the back of her jacket. Rose wasn't sure what it stood for. "All right, now you've asked for it." She pulled a grey spray-can out of her jacket pocket and threw it at the purple thing. "Run!"

Rose discovered why they were running when there was a small explosion behind them. She looked behind her to see the purple thing strewn across the pavement and half the drainpipe was missing. "Someone's going to wonder what that was."

"Nitro 9," the girl replied, proudly.

She wasn't very good at answering questions in a way that made sense. But before Rose could ask any more there were shouts and footsteps coming their way. "I know a way out of here." She took the other girl down alleyways and back streets until they were far enough away to be safe.

"Thanks," she said. "Look, I've got to be getting back. The Professor will wonder where I am." She ran off before Rose could ask her name or what that purple thing was.

A few days later, when the local gossip had died down, Rose forgot all about the incident. It was a few years later when a man in Henrik's told her to run that she was reminded of the girl. She meant to ask the Doctor if he knew anything, but what with travel to other times and nearly getting killed on more than one occasion, it went right out of her head.

Sybil grinned and twirled. "What do you think?"

"No one would know it was you," Mary replied.

"That is the reason we're dressed up," Edith pointed out.

It was also why Mary was wearing one of Anna's borrowed maid's outfits, which was a little too short, but it would do as long as no one looked too closely. Edith had somehow managed to get hold of a long blonde wig and a silver dress that shone in the light.

"You're very dressed up," Mary said to her.

"I'm hiding in plain sight."

"No one will be able to see your face, they'll be blinded by your dress."

"Please don't argue," Sybil interrupted. "We're here for a reason, remember?"

"All right." Mary felt that as the eldest she should be leading them.

But before she could say anything Sybil called out, "Over there." She pointed at the flower shop on the other side of the street and while Mary looked Sybil was already crossing the road.

Mary gave in. Sometimes it was easier to do that with Sybil.

Two hours later they were home and had everything they needed. None of them got much sleep that night, but it was worth it in the morning when Papa and Mama awoke to the decorations around the house.

All three of them peered out of their bedroom doors as they watched their parents discover the candles, flowers and banners in any spare space they'd been able to find by candlelight.

"Thank you, Cora," Papa said, and kissed Mama.

"I didn't do it," Mama replied. "I thought it was you."

"Then who was it?" Papa sounded puzzled, but the sisters had agreed to leave it a mystery. After all, their parents didn't celebrate their 25th wedding anniversary every day and this was the one thing they'd all been able to agree on in months.

"Hmm," the Doctor said, peering at a screen.

Ian refused to respond to that. Instead he put his hands in his pockets and waited to see if the Doctor explained himself.

The Doctor didn't. He merely moved the chair at the next desk out of his way so he could peer at the screen there and say "Hmm" again.

Ian sighed. "What is it, Doctor?"

"Huh?" The Doctor looked round with a surprised expression, as if he'd forgotten his companion was there.

It was Ian's turn to wait for the Doctor to comment. He leaned against the desk and folded his arms.

The Doctor took his glasses off and stepped closer to Ian, lowering his voice. "They're predicting the weather tomorrow will be cloudy."

Ian shrugged. "That sounds about right for England in the autumn."

"But there's going to be a hurricane."

"Really?" Ian twisted round to look at the screen, but he couldn't see where the Doctor was getting that conclusion from the data. "How do you know?"

"From this." The Doctor grinned and pulled a book out of his pocket, which he waved at Ian.

As it moved Ian managed to read the title: 'The Pocket Book of Weather in Britain in the 20th Century'. He rolled his eyes. "Don't you think you should tell them?"

The Doctor considered that for a moment. "I think I'll wait and see if they notice. They'll learn from their mistakes far better than if I just told them."

"Isn't that irresponsible? A hurricane could do untold amounts of damage if there's no warning."

"They won't be believe me anyway." The Doctor patted him on the shoulder. "Oh look, there's the TARDIS."

Ian gave in. This was all in his future anyway. Perhaps he could warn people once this date came around. Assuming the Doctor ever got him home...

Martha steps closer to him and takes his hand. "It won't be the same without you," she whispers.

The last of Harry's resolve vanishes and they enter the TARDIS, hand in hand.

~*~

Their first meeting didn't go well.

"I say, what are you doing in my sickbay?" Harry frowned at the young woman going through the cupboards, looking as if she had every right to be there. She didn't - Harry was the MO and he prescribed the drugs, not the patients. Although if she was a patient, she didn't look like she was injured.

"Dr Jones," Martha said, as she turned and held out her hand. "You must be Dr Sullivan."

"Er, yes." Harry shook her hand out of instinct and politeness. "You're a doctor?"

"Women can be doctors," she said. "Amazing, isn't it?" She grinned at him and he already knew he was going to give in to her without much of a fight.

~*~

"Harry!" Martha's head appears over the edge of the small cliff he's just fallen down. "Are you all right?"

Harry pauses to take stock of which bits of him hurt. "My pride's bruised," he says and is cheered by her smile at that comment. "I think I've sprained my ankle," he adds, when he tries to stand. It doesn't appear to be broken at least.

"Stay where you are," she says. "We'll come and find you."

While he waits for the Doctor and Martha, he limps down to the sea to cool his injured ankle. It's feeling a lot better by the time they arrive, but that doesn't stop him from taking the opportunity to hang onto Martha. The Doctor meanwhile comments on his tendency not to look where he's putting his feet.

~*~

It wasn't until they were tied up together on Voga that Harry found out what was really going on.

"Shut up about the gold, Harry," Martha said patiently.

"Gold's a soft metal," he pointed out. It wasn't a good metal to use to tie people up, therefore and he had a plan.

"And there I was thinking you were going to take advantage of me all tied up."

Shocked at the suggestion, Harry looked over at Martha, still holding a rock he hoped would be suitable to use as a hammer. She was grinning. "I wouldn't...." he began.

"I know you wouldn't." She softened her grin into a smile. "But I know you want to."

Not in this situation he didn't, but she was a pretty girl and he liked her. He didn't know quite what to say to that, so he said nothing, trying to think of a good lie to tell.

"Maybe later," she said, then added, in a whisper, "You can even tie me up if you like."

He dropped the rock on his foot.

~*~

Despite the amount of time they've been away, both Harry and his flat have survived intact.

"Now we're home," Harry says, as he holds the door open for Martha, "we can just go back to being friends, if you want."

Martha turned and frowned at him. "Why would I want that?"

"I just thought... I mean, you're an intelligent girl, why would you want me?"

"I can give you a list, but only if you shut the front door." She smiles and steps closer to Harry so they're nearly touching. "I wouldn't want the neighbours to see."

Harry raises his eyebrows, but does as he's told and shuts the door. He smiles and blushes when Martha stands on tiptoes to whisper in his ear.

Mary put her hands on the edge of the crib and stood on tip-toe as she peered in. She made a face at what she saw. The new baby wore lots of frilly white and looked up at her as if Mary were the most interesting thing she'd ever seen. Which might well be the case. She sighed. "Another baby." She'd known Mama was having a baby, of course, but she'd hoped it would be more exciting than this.

"I'm not a baby," Edith complained, from beside her. Sybil's gaze transferred to her other sister and Edith smiled down at her.

Mary looked round at her younger sister - one of her younger sisters - who was copying Mary's pose to be able to see into the crib. "At least you do something. Sybil just lies there." One sister was enough, no one needed two. What was she supposed to do with two sisters?

"She's boring," Edith agreed. She let go of the crib and turned around. "I'm going to play."

Edith sounded so grand, but she wasn't, she was only two and Mary was the eldest. But there was only so long you could look at a baby, so Mary followed her sister, who walked sedately out of the nursery and then ran along the corridor.

Outside, they could pretend they didn't have another sister. They forgot about Sybil completely as they chased each other, shouting and laughing. Until they were told off for playing under the open nursery window and waking the baby. After that, Mary vowed she was never going to like Sybil, no matter what.

Because they were such good friends they always played nicely together.

"Sybil, no!"

Now Sybil was older she wasn't boring any more; she was annoying instead. Mary much preferred Sybil to be in another part of the house, where she didn't have to see her, especially when she was playing with Edith.

They'd chosen Ludo, which Sybil couldn't possibly have been interested in, but she kept walking over and stealing the dice or the counters. It was impossible to play with her around. With all the servants they had, Mary didn't see why someone else couldn't have minded Sybil while their nurse was at home with her sick mother, but Mama had shut them all in a room and told them all to play nicely together. Which was a vain hope to begin with, given that Mary and Edith were both only pleasant to each other when they won.

In a fit of temper at Sybil spoiling their game by moving one of Mary's counters, Mary upended the board, sending the counters flying.

"I was winning!" Edith shouted, as she kicked the board back at Mary, which hit her in the shin.

Sybil started crying. Mary knew someone would hear and Mama would come to tell them off. She also knew she would get the blame, even though it was Sybil's fault, so she ran away to hide in Carson's office.

He was in there when she arrived. He stopped writing, stood up and smiled at her as she entered. "Lady Mary." He placed his pen down on his desk. "What can I do for you today?"

Mary sat on the chair opposite his desk with a long-suffering sigh. "I wish I didn't have any sisters."

Carson sat too and there was a hint of a smile on his face. "Then who would you play with?"

She shrugged. "I'd find someone." But she didn't know who. None of the grown-ups ever had time to play Ludo with her. Or any other game. Grown-ups didn't play games.

"In the meantime, why not help me count the wine?" He stood up again and held out his hand.

She grinned and took it. Counting the wine with Carson was almost as much fun as playing. And he always told her how good she was at it.

They always shared all their toys and never fought over them.

"It's mine, give it back!"

"No, it's not, it's mine."

Sybil, quite unfairly, had stolen Mary's doll and had been attempting to carry it off to her hiding place to play with it. Mary, having caught her, was trying to get it back. It was only fair - it was hers after all. Now they both held one of the doll's legs, struggling to get the other to let go. Mary didn't even know why Sybil wanted her doll, but she wasn't going to let her have it.

Edith stepped in and grabbed the doll by its head. Mary turned on her, but before she could say anything, Edith, never one to miss a chance to annoy one or both of her sisters, twisted the doll's head off.

Mary dropped the leg she was holding and stared at her, horrified that Edith could do anything so awful. Sybil clutched the doll's body to her chest and burst into tears. When Sybil rushed off to tell whoever would be sympathetic (Mary could never keep track of who was Sybil's favourite), Edith smiled victoriously.

"If you're going to fight, neither of you can have it," she said, echoing Mama.

Mary glared at her, not giving Edith the satisfaction of seeing her cry.

If she'd been younger she would have done the same as Sybil and told Carson what Edith had done. Now she was older she knew that method got her sympathy for a while, but didn't allow her to escape a telling off when Papa or Mama found out what had happened. So instead she stalked off to play on her own and wait until Sybil told one or other of their parents what Edith had done. Then, when Mary was called to tell her side of the story, she would calmly explain the situation, conveniently not mentioning that she had any part in it. Then she wouldn't get any of the blame, but Edith and Sybil would get the punishment they deserved.

All three were all good girls and would never do anything not befitting their station.

Mary stood just inside the front door beside Sybil, covered in mud, her face set at the treatment she'd received. Papa hadn't even said anything yet, just looked cross as he'd hauled her and Sybil inside, but she knew she couldn't escape what was coming next.

"What were you thinking?" Papa asked, staring down at them both.

Rather than face him, Mary looked at her feet - she'd been forced to take her shoes off before she got more mud in the house.

Sybil, however, was still young enough to be scared of their father when he was angry. "We were only playing," she said.

"Only playing!" Mary chanced a look upwards to see Papa was going red. That was never a good sign. "The next time the gardener's boy teases you, come to me, don't start a fight."

"Yes, Papa." Sybil sounded contrite.

"And, you." Papa took a step to the side to stand in front of Mary, who had to look up at him now. "You should know better than to encourage her."

Of course she would get the blame, just because she stuck up for Sybil. But she knew complaining at Papa would just make this go on longer, so she said, "Yes, Papa," in the same tone as Sybil. But she wasn't sorry about what she'd done. The gardener's boy deserved what he'd got for sneering about girls.

Papa sighed, realising that he wasn't going to get any more out of them. "Don't let it happen again. Now go and have a bath before you get mud everywhere."

Mary and Sybil fled, albeit at a walking pace so Papa couldn't say anything about that. As they approached the stairs Mary saw Edith crouched down at the top of the staircase where she could hear without being seen. Mary didn't know whether she'd told Papa what they'd done or not, but she did know Edith wanted to feel that she was better than her older sister. So Mary did the one thing she could to take that away from Edith and make her sorry: she just walked past and pretended Edith wasn't there. She carried on pretending Edith wasn't there for the rest of the day. And Sybil, keen to copy her eldest sister, did the same. Mary was sure that after that, Edith would never tell on them again.

They all slept in one big bed and were very happy.

"Sybil, go back to bed."

Mary hadn't woken up when her bedroom door opened, but she did when Sybil slipped into bed beside her, pressing her cold feet against Mary's warm legs. Sybil never did like to wear slippers when no one could see her. Mary moved further over to the edge of the bed, but Sybil just followed. Mary sighed. "What do you want?"

"I had a bad dream."

Sybil did sound a little upset about it, but Mary wasn't going to turn over and look at her. "Go and see Mama, then."

"There's more room in your bed." That didn't explain why Sybil had to lie so close.

"What about Edith?" Mary still refused to move, hoping Sybil would get the hint.

"I wanted to see you."

Mary smiled in the dark because Sybil had chosen her over Edith. She would never have admitted it, but it meant she didn't make Sybil go back to her own bed. There was plenty of room in Mary's, after all. "Go to sleep, then."

"Don't you want to hear about my dream?"

She didn't want to end up not being able to go back to sleep herself. Sybil had far too good an imagination. Her dreams were odd affairs that stayed in your head and came out when you were alone in the dark. "No. Tell Mama in the morning." After that Sybil was quiet and they both slept.

There were no secrets between them.

Mary knocked on Sybil's door. It was the middle of the afternoon so Sybil was hardly likely to be doing anything in there that she didn't want Mary to see, so she opened the door without waiting for a reply and frowned as she saw Sybil and Gwen talking. That was the second time this week she'd found them shut in a room together.

Sybil turned to face her. "What do you want?" she asked, not sounding at all happy about being interrupted.

"Excuse me, my lady." Gwen nodded at Sybil and scurried out of the room.

Mary waited until she'd left before saying, "I think I left my hat in here."

Sybil sighed, then picked it up off the end of her dressing table and handed it to her sister.

Mary took the hat, but didn't leave. There was something going on and she was determined to find out what it was. "What were you two doing in here?"

"Nothing you need to worry about." Sybil folded her arms.

Mary raised her eyebrows, wondering what Sybil could possibly be up to. With Sybil, anything was possible.

She shook her head. "It's not like that."

"If you won't tell me, I'll just have to guess." She smiled, but Sybil wouldn't take the bait. She stepped around Mary and left the room.

Mary watched her go. She was determined to find out what Sybil was up to. Especially if it was something she didn't want Mary to know about.

They were always understanding of each other.

"What are you going to do?" Sybil asked, as she followed Mary upstairs. She'd said she was going to help Mary unpack from London, but Mary knew she'd really wanted to gossip.

"I don't know." She shrugged, wishing there was an easy answer to this. "Avoid Matthew for as long as possible while I decide." And hope that he would be understanding when she did make a decision.

Sybil caught up and they ascended side by side. "Either you love him or you don't. If you do, then marry him. If you don't, then don't."

Mary rolled her eyes at her sister's naivety. "It's not that simple."

"Why not?"

There were so many reasons it was hard to know where to start, except with the most important. "I can't marry a solicitor."

Sybil frowned. "Why not?"

Mary stopped and stared at her sister. "Really, Sybil, you're not three."

"Sorry." She smiled in apology. "But I think you're over-complicating things."

Mary shook her head. Sybil still had her head so full of romantic notions, even though she was an adult. She would never be able to make her understand.

Whatever happened, they all loved each other very much.

"We'll miss you," Edith said, as she held out a dress for Sybil to pack.

Mary sat on the bed watching them both. "It won't be the same without you."

Sybil smiled as she folded the dress and placed it carefully in her suitcase. "I'll write. And you can come and visit any time you like."

Mary frowned. She couldn't imagine the world Sybil would be living in. She wondered if Sybil would even have one spare room. She certainly wouldn't have any servants. "I can't believe you're the first of us to get married."

Sybil smiled. "Neither can I. Who would look at me when I've got two older sisters?"

"The chauffeur, apparently." Mary sounded as if she was sneering, but Sybil had flattered her and she was going to miss her youngest sister, so her heart wasn't in it.

"If it's youngest first, maybe I won't be a maiden aunt after all," Edith said, forgetting the packing and leaning against one of the bedposts.

Sybil smiled at her. "Oh, you'll find someone. I know you will."

She sounded so sure that Mary and Edith both smiled back.

Barbara had only been at Coal Hill School since Easter, so this was the first time she'd seen the staff let their hair down. O levels, A levels and end of year exams had kept everyone too busy to celebrate a week off at half term, so it seemed like they were making up for it now. It was only tea time and already she had seen signs of people who couldn't hold their drink.

With the growing inebriation the time for pleasant chat about plans for the summer holidays was beginning to pass; now there was some serious drinking to do. Guarding her glass of wine in case anyone spilt it, Barbara made her way over to where Brenda sat on a padded bench in a corner. They smiled at each other and Brenda shifted over just enough for Barbara to squeeze on the end.

Once she sat down Barbara discovered she had a good view of the whole pub and half the garden from this position. Which was probably why Brenda had bagged the seat. "Where's Susie?" she asked. Brenda and Susie seemed to be the least harmless of the staff, based on which of them gossiped the most, and therefore her closest female friends at the school.

"Gregg thinks he's getting somewhere with her," Brenda replied, pointing the pair of them out. "But he's just had too much to drink as usual."

As Barbara watched, Gregg shifted forward on his seat, so his and Susie's knees were touching. Susie made a face and turned sideways. Barbara put a hand over her mouth to stop herself from laughing, but Brenda didn't have any such inhibitions. The sound carried easily and distracted Gregg long enough for Susie to escape his clutches and rush to the safety of the toilets.

"And Ian has half the women in the pub hanging on his every word," Brenda continued, looking over to the other side of the bar.

Barbara had been trying not to look, but it was hard to miss. The same thing happened at school. Ian never lacked for company in the canteen or the staff room. At least Brenda and Susie never threw themselves at him. Barbara couldn't understand why the rest of them did, but Ian never seemed to mind. He looked to be in his element now, entertaining the women arranged before him. She wondered if he knew that it wasn't just his witty repartee they were interested in, but she didn't see how he could miss it.

She started when she heard him call her name.

"Barbara will know more about that than I do," he said loud enough for her to hear and motioned for her to come over.

She didn't miss the looks the other women gave her and she hesitated to leave her comfortable seat. Brenda, however, had other ideas and practically pushed her out of it. Then moved over, so there wasn't any space for Barbara to sit back down. She grinned as Barbara gave her a look.

Ian didn't appear to have seen any of this and he smiled at her as she turned back to face him. Accepting her fate, she smiled back and went over. The other women grudgingly made space for her beside them although not, she noticed, next to Ian.

"Rhonda was asking about Galileo being excommunicated," he said. "But that's more your speciality than mine."

Barbara gave him a searching look, but he looked and sounded sincere. She didn't kid herself for a minute that the women around her wanted to hear what she had to say about Galileo.

"I know what he said," he continued, "but not why his discoveries caused so much trouble."

He looked interested. She could understand that he might want to know more about the subject, so she stayed and told Ian what she knew, for the sake of his curiosity if nothing else. As she did so, ignoring the other women, they gradually drifted away and left her alone with Ian. He didn't seem to notice and happily carried on chatting with Barbara for the rest of the evening.

~*~

When Ian had invited her to come along to a party with his colleagues, Barbara wondered why he'd asked. He'd only been to one since starting at the college, but that was before they were married. Even so, husbands and wives weren't usually invited since it was just the usual end of term celebration. Ian wouldn't give her anything but the vaguest of reasons, but she suspected it had something to do with that last party and why he hadn't been to any since. He wouldn't be drawn on just what had happened, though, so she agreed to come along, thinking that she might at least get to find out why he was so quiet about it.

Barbara had to come straight from school herself, so she was a little late. All eyes turned to her as she walked in and she tried not to blush at the attention. She hadn't intended to make an entrance. Fortunately, Ian soon came over and everyone turned back to their conversations. He introduced her to the secretary, Mary, who was hosting the party at her flat, then he left to get her a drink.

"It's so lovely to meet you," Mary said.

Barbara blinked, surprised. She hadn't imagined Ian had spoken of her much. Or perhaps it was because he hadn't that they were all curious to see what she was like. She tried not to feel scrutinised - Mary wasn't Ian's mother after all. "Your home is lovely," she said, so as not to dwell on that thought.

Mary beamed. That was clearly the right thing to say. "My husband works in the city."

So that explained how she could afford a big flat in the centre of London overlooking the Thames.

"But enough about my husband, what about yours?" Mary looked far more interested in the subject than Barbara would have expected.

Barbara frowned. "What about Ian?" She wondered what was taking him so long to pour one drink.

"Well," she lowered her voice, "does he flirt with everyone or just women he really likes?"

Barbara looked at her, agape as she wondered exactly what Ian had been doing. Then she shook her head. That idea was ridiculous. He was just naturally charming to everyone. Admittedly, he had flirted with her, but then he'd married her. She couldn't imagine that he flirted with Mary. He had always been so popular with the female teachers at Coal Hill and could probably have had any woman he wanted. But he'd chosen her.

She looked over to the kitchen to see Ian, a drink in each hand, surrounded by women. After a moment of jealousy she reminded herself how he'd reacted when that happened in the past. Barbara wondered if she should go over, but she couldn't understand why these women would be hanging on his every word just because he was handsome and charming. They must know he was married and that she was here.

Her pause had gone on so long that Mary called her name. Barbara had forgotten she was there for a moment. But before Barbara could try and come up with an answer to her question, Ian caught her eye, and then mouthed 'help' at her. She tried not to smile and told herself she'd been silly to think that Ian would be interested in anyone else.

"He doesn't flirt with anyone," she said sternly. "Please excuse me," she added in a more normal tone of voice, before going into the kitchen. Ian held a glass of wine out to her and once she'd taken it, he put an arm about her shoulders. The women around him were a range of ages and beauty. Some of them had glazed expressions and Barbara soon found out why when she listened to the conversation.

Most of it she didn't understand, but she knew enough to tell that it was highly technical. Given their expressions she wasn't sure any of these women were scientists, which made her wonder how they'd got onto this topic in the first place. Shooting her looks of hatred, the women drifted away one by one. Ian continued talking, although Barbara suspected what he was saying was nonsense. She'd known him long enough to pick up some science after all.

Once the last one had gone Ian sighed and kissed Barbara.

"What was all that about?" she asked.

"I don't think they believed I was married," he said.

She frowned. Admittedly they'd eloped at half term, but he had returned wearing a wedding ring, which Barbara would have said was proof enough.

"I think they think I'm just pretending because I can't choose between them."

Barbara tried not to smile. Some things never changed. Although these days she knew she had no reason to be jealous. "Oh, I think they know now," she said, remembering the looks they'd given her. "But just to be sure..." She kissed him again.

Sarah gave Harry a look for the 'old girl'. "I'd hardly call two a collection."

"For someone who didn't want any..." He left the sentence unfinished, but they both remembered that she'd often said she wasn't interested in getting married and having babies.

She sighed and leaned back against the counter. "I know." She gave him a chance to remind her of the time during their brief relationship when he'd wanted one thing and she the other, but he stayed quiet, which she was glad about. "It was easier to decide to adopt the second one." After all, she knew what to expect this time. And what to do too, she hoped.

The front door slamming announced Sky's arrival home from school, just as the kettle boiled and switched itself off. Sarah pushed herself off the counter to stand up straight again. "Tea, Sky?" she called, letting her know they were in the kitchen and not up in the attic.

"Yes, please," Sky shouted back. A moment later she arrived in the kitchen and flung her school bag on a chair. She stopped when she noticed Harry. "What are you doing here?"

It was just as well Sarah had chosen that moment to attend to the tea because neither of the other two occupants would see her try and contain her laughter. Although she didn't make a sound she had to put the kettle down, otherwise she'd end up pouring boiling water all over the place. As much as she longed to see Harry's reaction to Sky's question, she didn't turn round.

However, Harry leaned down and whispered, "Sounds like something you'd say." She couldn't answer that with her hand over her mouth and he didn't give her time to. Out loud, he said, "I'm Harry. I'm a friend of your mother's." He didn't sound offended by Sky's attitude at all. Maybe he'd got used to her, although she was never quite as blunt as Sky tended to be.

"I call her Sarah Jane." Sky's tone was matter-of-fact, as it was about most things.

"You're a lot like Luke," Harry said thoughtfully.

"No, I'm not. He's a boy and he's older than me."

The tea made, Sarah pressed a mug into Harry's hand. "Sky doesn't have much experience of this world. One minute she was a baby, the next..." She waved a hand in Sky's direction. Sky was still looking confused at Harry's comparison. "What Harry means," she said to Sky, "is that your reactions remind him of how Luke was when I first adopted him."

"Oh." She thought about that, while Sarah passed her a mug of tea. "I like Luke, so that's all right. Of course, I've only seen him on screen."

"Don't worry, you'll meet him soon enough." Sarah was sure the two of them would be friends.

"I'm not worried." Sky smiled to prove she wasn't. "But I have homework." She took her mug with her, out of the kitchen. The thumps on the stairs suggested she was intending to ask Mr Smith to help with it. Fortunately, he was clever enough to know not to do it all for her.

"I suppose we're too boring for children," Harry said, sitting down at the table.

Sarah joined him. "Speak for yourself!"

"I don't think anyone could ever say you were boring."

She smiled, taking it as a compliment. "So what do you think of her?"

He turned serious at her question. "Are you asking my personal or professional opinion?"

She put her mug down. "Both. She was a bomb. She can still sense electricity. I'm just worried that..."

He put a hand over hers. "She'll need to be scanned to be sure. I'll sort something out and give you a call."

"Thank you." She smiled. "I knew I could reply on you."

Harry smiled at the compliment. "And I like her. If only you were alien too, that would explain you."

She punched him on the arm, but grinned as she did so, glad that Harry was the one thing in her life that never changed.

Despite K9 being up and about, Luke was still in bed, judging by the lump topped with dark hair. Harry took the opportunity to look around the room. It was quite small, but neat and tidy and above all, clean. At least if Sarah asked, he could reassure her that her son wasn't living in squalor.

The question remained: why was Luke still in bed and hadn't woken at Harry's entrance? He knew students were famed for their ability to sleep late, but as far as he knew Luke wasn't a typical teenager. So he went over to Luke's bed, put a hand on what he hoped was his shoulder and called Luke's name.

The covers shifted and Luke's head peered out from under them, looking bleary-eyed.

"Is everything all right?" Harry asked, frowning.

"I think this must be a hangover." Luke sounded sorry for himself.

Harry fought the urge to smile. Luke's first hangover. Which was quite a feat given that he'd been at university three weeks already. "I'll get you some water."

There was no one in the kitchen down the hall. He couldn't tell whose dishes were whose, so he just picked a glass off the draining board at random and ran the tap. When he returned Luke was sitting up in bed. Harry passed the glass of water to him.

"Did mum send you?" Luke asked once he'd finished the water.

Harry pulled out the chair by the desk and sat on it. He didn't quite like to admit that she had because he didn't want Luke to complain that Sarah was checking up on him. Besides, if Sarah hadn't asked he'd have happily come. His silence answered the question for him.

"You won't tell her I got drunk will you?"

Luke sounded so vulnerable that Harry couldn't bring himself to say that he would. Although he didn't think telling her would be that bad. "She might not be that upset." It was hard to tell how Sarah would react to things, but on the whole it was probably best to be vague about it. "What was so special about last night?"

"Sanjay thought it was criminal that I was seventeen and had never tried alcohol." Luke put the empty glass on the bedside table, pushing the alarm clock over to make room.

Harry remembered being sixteen himself, so he could hardly complain about that. "So what did you try?"

"Everything."

Harry raised his eyebrows.

Luke answered the question Harry hadn't voiced. "First there was a pint of beer, then I had vodka and coke, then whisky. I remember the aftershock, a pint of cider and a bottle of something orange." He frowned. "I don't remember anything after that."

Harry wasn't surprised if he'd been working his way through the bar. "I was going to offer to take you to lunch." Luke looked a distinct shade of green at the mention of food. "But perhaps I'll come back this evening when you're feeling better and take you to dinner instead." There were some people he was planning to visit while he was in Oxford and he could arrive earlier than he'd planned.

"Thank you," Luke said, smiling.

"But next time you go out drinking," Harry said, as he stood up, "pick one thing and stick to it."

"I will." Looking pale now, Luke huddled back under the covers and Harry left him to it.

Johnny held his hands up, away from the console and backed away, wide-eyed. "The TARDIS told me." He sounded amazed. "You never said it could do that," he accused his parents, who'd followed him into the TARDIS, fearing the Doctor was going to kidnap their son.

"She doesn't," the Doctor answered before anyone else could get a word in. "Unless..." He turned on Ian and Barbara. "You two had sex on the TARDIS."

Ian coughed and spluttered; Barbara, blushing, slapped him on the back.

The Doctor folded his arms and advanced on the couple. "And Johnny here was born nine months later."

"It was more like eight and a..." Ian broke off at the look from his wife.

"So you did." He spun around to point at Johnny. "You're a Time Lord."

Johnny shook his head. "No, I'm not."

"He's human," Barbara protested.

"Of course he is. Never said he wasn't." The Doctor flicked a couple of switches and turned a dial. "Exposure to the vortex creates Time Lords. And Time Lord babies if they're conceived while the TARDIS is in flight." He stared at Ian and Barbara, who looked away, embarrassed. The Doctor turned back to the console to pull a lever with a flourish. The familiar sounds of the TARDIS dematerialising soon followed.

"Doctor, you can't just take off." Ian took a step forward, worried, but managing not to sound panicked.

"If I knew bringing a man and a woman on board at the same time would cause this many problems, I'd never have done it." He frowned as he stopped to think. "I wonder how many of the others have children." He made a face at the idea.

Ian ignored the Doctor, as he often did when he wasn't making sense. "But you can't control where we go."

"Of course I can," he said, offended, as they landed. "You three stay here." Then he opened the doors and strode out of the TARDIS before anyone else could catch him.

Johnny started after him, but Ian caught his arm just as Johnny reached the doors. "You don't know what's out there."

"It's a car park," Johnny said, sounding unimpressed.

Ian frowned. "What?" He stood beside his son and peered outside. Johnny was right, it was a car park. And unless there was an identical one elsewhere in the universe, it was the car park by their local shops.

Barbara joined him at the door. "There's Maud from number three." She was on her way out of the supermarket, shopping bags in each hand and in danger of looking straight at them at any minute.

Ian stepped back, out of Maud's line of sight, pulling Barbara and Johnny with him.

"Dad," Johnny complained, pulling out of Ian's grasp.

"If anyone sees us you'll end up having to answer questions about why you were coming out of a police box. Believe me, it's far better to just deny all knowledge." With that, Ian pushed the doors shut, so Maud wouldn't be tempted to see what was inside.

Johnny sighed, seeing the truth in that. "But what does being a Time Lord mean?"

Ian and Barbara looked at each other. Barbara shrugged and Ian was left to answer the question. "I don't know." He was worried about that one himself. "You'll have to ask the Doctor when he comes back."

Johnny went back to examine the console and the Doctor returned a minute later, grinning. "Now there'll be no more Time Lord babies. One per companion should do it." He plonked a box of condoms down on the console with a grin.

As she peered over his shoulder Barbara discovered that was an understatement. Outside the landscape was uninviting; bare, aside from the odd leafless tree dotted around and the wind swirled around the Ship. She folded her arms around herself and shivered in the breeze blowing through the open doors. "I'll get my coat," she said. Once she took a few steps the heat of the console room warmed her up.

"I'll get them," Vicki promised.

Barbara smiled at the girl as she went off to fetch their coats. Ian, however, wasn't waiting and he stepped outside, even though he only had a cardigan to protect him from the cold. Barbara shook her head. If he wanted to prove he was a man by freezing that was up to him, as long as he didn't expect her to admire him doing so. She wasn't sure what was worth going out there for, but since they'd landed they might as well investigate their surroundings. You never knew what you might find.

"What is this?" The Doctor was puttering about the console, pressing buttons. The readings the scanner gave about this planet suggested it was summer. It should be sunny and hot out there but it wasn't and the Doctor was vexed that it was wrong. Mind you, Barbara was happy for them to stay while he fixed it if it meant not getting the wrong information when they landed somewhere deadly.

As Vicki returned, their coats in her arms, Barbara heard a noise. She turned round to see the doors closing. "Ian!" He looked back at her shout, but he'd wandered too far and couldn't get inside before the doors shut completely. "Doctor, what did you do that for?"

"I didn't. The Ship did it all by itself." He frowned at the console.

Back when they'd first come aboard, Barbara wouldn't have believed him, but that was a long time ago. Now he and Ian were friends and they hadn't argued recently. The Doctor had no reason to shut him outside. "So open them again," she snapped.

"They won't!" He flapped at the console, pulling levers and flicking switches. Nothing happened for a moment, then Ian's thumping on the door gave way to the familiar sound of the Ship taking off.

"Doctor!" Barbara and Vicki shouted at the same time.

"I'm sorry." He looked first at Barbara, then Vicki. "I can't stop it." He sounded defeated.

Barbara couldn't speak as her heart thudded and a lump formed in her throat. Ian was going to be stuck on that planet and they had no way of getting back to him. She had to hope there were friendly people nearby, otherwise Ian would freeze to death on his own. Or starve to death, she wasn't sure which would come first.

"You must be able to do something," Vicki pleaded.

Barbara looked hopefully at the Doctor, hand to her mouth as she tried not to think about Ian's fate.

"Well, maybe... It's just a possibility, mind..." He didn't tell them what he was trying, instead flicking a switch. The sound of taking off immediately gave way to one of landing and Barbara began to hope that maybe just this once, he'd been able to control their destination.

When the Doctor opened the doors Barbara rushed over to them. The view she had was the same as the one she'd seen moments ago. Except this time there was no sign of Ian. She called his name, but heard nothing in response. Worried, she asked the Doctor, "When are we?"

He shook his head. "I don't know." He tapped at a read-out, but presumably it didn't tell him anything.

The trouble with time travel was that just because they'd left a minute ago, it didn't mean that only a minute had gone by. It could be hours or years, or they could have arrived before they left. However long it was, Ian would have to assume that they might not be coming back for him. In this cold, he couldn't wait forever. But she hated to think he'd died waiting, so she had to assume that he was out there somewhere. She couldn't just give up on him.

Without waiting for the Doctor, she stepped out of the Ship, looking at the ground for clues as to which direction Ian went. But she'd never had to track anything in the wild before and didn't know what to look for. This wasn't sand or snow; there were no footprints.

"We'll all look for him." The Doctor came up behind her and put her coat over her shoulders.

Barbara smiled at him as she put her arms through the sleeves and buttoned it up. Of course she wasn't on her own. "We should split up," she suggested. With nothing on the horizon, Ian could have gone anywhere.

The Doctor nodded. "Meet back here in half an hour." He closed the door behind him and at Barbara's nod, he strode off with Vicki, imploring her to stay close. Vicki seemed happy to oblige.

The landscape was eerie, but Barbara had other things to be scared of, so she started out in the opposite direction. As she walked she reminded herself that Ian was resourceful. She'd seen him make fire without matches or a lighter and there was no reason he couldn't do the same here, even if she couldn't see any smoke.

Something caught her eye as she passed a tree and she stopped to look at it. It was faint, but there was an 'IC' carved into it. Even if the straight line of the 'I' was a coincidence, the 'C' couldn't be. She breathed a sigh of relief. She almost called the Doctor and Vicki back, but she didn't know how long ago Ian had made the mark and it was possible he'd gone the other way some time later.

Now she picked up her pace, checking the trees as she passed. Whenever she couldn't see Ian's initials on one, she changed direction and was soon rewarded with another sign. After a few minutes, when she was starting to get warm from the exercise, she trod on something hard at the base of a tree. She almost ignored it in her rush, but it wasn't a familiar feeling underfoot, so she stopped in case it was something important. It was Ian's penknife.

She pulled her hands out of her pockets to pick it up, then looked around. If Ian had dropped it on purpose there would be other clues, but there was nothing she could see. The 'IC' on this tree was complete, so he hadn't been disturbed while he was carving. There were no signs that anything or anyone was here now, but Barbara still gripped the penknife tightly as she cautiously carried on.

The next tree still had an 'IC' on it, but it looked different as if it had been made by another hand. She ran her fingers along the initials, sure they were created by the same blade. But how could Ian have carved into the tree with a penknife he no longer had? She found his initials on two more trees along the route too.

After a few more minutes she heard the footsteps of someone running. Although they came from somewhere in front of her, she could see nothing and the barren landscape around wasn't enough to hide a person. With trembling hands, she pulled out a blade from the penknife and held it out in front of her. Whoever it was, would be able to see she had a weapon, even if it wasn't much use.

Whoever it was cried out. He had to be close by, but she still couldn't see him. The next thing she heard was the thump of someone hitting the ground. Then, out of nowhere, Ian appeared on the floor by her feet. "Ian!" Barbara dropped the penknife as she bent down to him. He lifted his head, but whatever he was about to say was subsumed in a coughing fit. Barbara helped him sit up so he could breathe and eventually his coughing gave way to deep breaths.

"I knew you'd come back for me," he said, as he smiled and hugged her.

She realised, as she held him close, relieved to find him alive, that he smelt of smoke and his clothes were damp. But she hadn't seen any smoke and neither could she smell any elsewhere. He was shivering too, so she let go of him. "I found your initials," she said, unbuttoning her coat.

He frowned. "Where?"

She took her coat off and draped it over his shoulders. He wouldn't be able to get it done up, but it might stop him freezing to death. He smiled and pulled it around himself. "Carved on the trees," she said, picking up the penknife, with the blade still sticking out.

He shook his head. "I didn't do that."

If Ian didn't do it then someone must have. But there was still no one around here, other than Ian. "I'll show you." He must have done it and he had just forgotten, that was the only explanation.

There weren't many trees on the path back to the TARDIS, so she was sure she could remember which ones his initials were on. But when they reached the first, the carving had gone. "It was here." She ran her fingers over the area just below her eye line.

"You must have been mistaken," he said good-naturedly.

"No!" She resented the suggestion she was making it up, even if that hadn't been what he meant. He put an hand on her shoulder and she sighed, recognising that she'd overreacted. "Why do you smell of smoke?" she asked instead.

"I started a fire for warmth," he said. "But I feel asleep and it spread. For a moment I didn't think I was going to get out of there alive, but someone threw water on the fire near me and half on me." They both looked back in the direction he'd come from. There was no fire there now and no sign there had ever been one. "Funny thing is, I thought I heard Vicki's voice."

"The Doctor and Vicki didn't come in this direction." It wasn't unreasonable that he had imagined her voice, but what with the other strange things going on, perhaps Vicki really was there. When their eyes met, Barbara took his hand. It was cold in hers. This planet had gone from eerie to spooky and she was glad Ian was with her. "Let's get back to the TARDIS," she suggested. Perhaps the Doctor would be able to solve this mystery. "I have to meet the Doctor and Vicki back there in..." She trailed off as she looked at her watch. "When I left the TARDIS it was ten past two," she said, at Ian's questioning look. "Now it's five past."

He inclined his head and she held her arm up so he could see the time. "That can't be right."

It couldn't, but her watch was still ticking and even if it had lost time, it couldn't go backwards on its own. However, it gave her an idea. "What if the carvings aren't here because no one has made them yet?" It was a crazy suggestion, but she had been to places before she was born. They just usually involved travelling in the TARDIS, not walking across a deserted planet.

He sighed. "I don't know."

Sure she was right, she dug the blade of the penknife into the wood and dragged it down to make an 'I'. The 'C' was harder, but when it came out, it looked just like she remembered. She looked up at Ian afterwards, but he didn't say anything, just shook his head.

She led him to the next tree to carve his initials and the next. The silence in the absence of birds and insects, along with the cold made her hand shake and she dropped the penknife after she finished the third one.

Ian took her hands and rubbed them with his thumbs. "I'll do it," he said, although his hands were no warmer than hers. When he put his hand in his trouser pocket, he pulled out an identical penknife. Barbara's eyes widened when she saw it. "I think you were right," he said. "This wasn't here earlier."

Barbara nodded, but the knowledge didn't comfort her now.

Having to stop to initial the trees meant their journey back to the Ship took longer than Barbara's trip out. They were both shivering by the time they reached it. Fortunately the Doctor hadn't locked the door and they entered the warmth within with matching sighs of relief.

Barbara looked at her watch. It hadn't yet been half an hour, but the Doctor and Vicki must have been back here. A hose was stretched across the console room and there were patches of water on the floor. Barbara couldn't tell what any of it might have been for, so she didn't worry about it for now and resolved to ask when she saw the others. In the meantime she fetched some blankets from the cupboard. Ian smiled as he took one from her and wrapped it around himself. Barbara took her coat back and did the same, but she still shivered, only partly from the cold.

"Come here," Ian said, opening his blanket.

Barbara stepped into his arms. He was no warmer than she was, but she rested her head against his shoulder. His cardigan felt icy beneath her cheek. Now they were both safe she could give in to her fears about never seeing him again. She wasn't sure how cold you had to be to get hypothermia, or just how cold it was out there, but she didn't think Ian had been far off it. Even though the Doctor got them back to the planet, if she hadn't found him when she did, it might have been too late for him. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying not to think about it and refused to cry. He was safe now and that was all that mattered. After a few minutes she stopped shivering, although Ian didn't.

She was just starting to feel comfortable when the doors burst open. As she sprang away from Ian she wrapped the blanket more securely around herself. The smell of smoke wafted in along with the Doctor and Vicki. They both looked unharmed, if a little sooty. "What happened?" she asked them.

"We put out a fire," Vicki said, sounding excited. "Although I don't know why it didn't go out on its own, there's hardly anything out there to burn."

"You don't know that." The Doctor pointed a finger at her. "Just because you can't see it doesn't mean there's nothing there."

Ian smiled at their familiar bickering and hugged Vicki hello.

Barbara stepped closer to the Doctor. "There's something wrong with time," she said.

"Oh, you noticed that, did you?" the Doctor said, as if it was obvious. "Time swirls about on this planet, the same way the wind does on Earth. That's why the Ship took off. We'd caught up with ourselves." He pulled a lever, the doors closed and the Ship took off, just as it had before.

"It's like in the Space Museum," Ian said, understanding dawning on him.

Ian appearing out of nowhere was certainly similar, Barbara thought.

"No, nothing like that." The Doctor sounded cross. "It's perfectly simple."

Barbara rolled her eyes at Ian, who smiled. Vicki giggled.

The Doctor made a "Hmph," noise and gave them up as a lost cause. "Now, I suggest we all go somewhere warm next, hmm?"

That would be nice, if only the Doctor could control where they went.

"And you, young man will remember not to wander off in future." Despite his stern tone, there was a hint of a smile on his face. He was clearly pleased to see Ian unharmed, even if he wasn't going to admit it.

"Of course, Doctor." Ian gave Barbara a conspiratorial smile. "As long as I have you to save me, I'll be all right," he whispered to her.

He smiled upon seeing Arwen curled up in a chair in the corner. When she didn't acknowledge his entrance he assumed she was absorbed in her book. Her mother had done the same from time to time and Elrond had learnt it was best to leave her to it.

Since Celebrían left, Elrond and Arwen had found they had little to say to each other. Elrond couldn't say why their relationship had changed so much, so he was glad of a chance to spend some time with his daughter. Even if neither of them spoke it was enough to be in her presence for a time.

However, the accounts of Imladris were not very distracting and Elrond found he couldn't concentrate on them after a long day. After a while spent trying to read, but mostly staring out of the window, he realised Arwen hadn't turned a page in her book since he sat down. When he looked up he found she was looking off into the distance.

"Arwen?" he asked softly, and waited until her eyes met his before continuing. "Is something wrong?"

She shook her head. As she slid the bookmark inside the book and rested it on the table beside the lamp, Elrond waited for her to correct that statement. "It's too quiet."

He raised an eyebrow. It was early yet and outside the window the birds were singing as they gathered for bed. The Men chattering and the Elves' songs could still be heard, though they were further afield. It was not noisy precisely, but neither was it very quiet.

Arwen knew what his expression meant without him having to ask the question. "It's too quiet without mother here," she elaborated.

He nodded. He often felt the same. Celebrían's absence made the house feel too empty, despite the number of people in it. Yet he said nothing to Arwen. It was hard to offer comfort when he had none to give.

The silence stretched between them before Arwen stood and wandered over to the mantelpiece, frowning. "There always used to be flowers here."

"Violets." Leaving his papers on the chair as he stood, Elrond joined her. "They were your mother's favourite flower. They used to grow in the flowerbed by our rooms but they have not bloomed since..." he trailed off, certain she knew the gardens well enough to have noticed.

She ran her fingers over the space on the mantelpiece where the violets once stood. Elrond hated to see her look so sad and was frustrated at his inability to help her. However, he could bear this melancholy no longer and knew he was failing as her father by not finding a way of cheering her up.

"Perhaps we might grow something else in its place," he suggested.

Arwen's fingers stopped, but it was a moment before she turned to face him. "I don't know what would grow well in that patch, but I think it should be something bright."

Elrond smiled, liking the idea. "I know where we can find out." He held out his arm. After a moment she smiled and took it, and together they walked to the library. On a low shelf on the left was a book on flowers that Celebrían had often consulted. Elrond had frequently seen her with it and knew where it lived. He picked it and handed it to Arwen. "I believe the answer to your question is in here," he said.

She opened the book and flicked through it, looking at the drawings and the information that told her what type of soil they grew best in. Elrond peered over her shoulder, offering no comment, wanting Arwen to choose something herself. She didn't linger long over any page until she came upon the rose. "I have heard that they are trying to breed a purple rose in Lothlórien," she commented.

He raised an eyebrow. "I would like to see that." Celebrían had also been fond of roses, but none she had were purple. "But the soil and the light are wrong in the flowerbed where the violets grew."

"No, but I know where they could go." She handed him the book before moving over to the desk. There she began sketching the garden, noting what grew there now and what she would like to grow.

Elrond smiled as he watched her work. She had taken over many of Celebrían's duties out of necessity, but Celebrían's garden had, until now, not been something she had been interested in, beyond looking at it. Now Celebrían was gone, Imladris would never be the same again, but at least he still had Arwen. Perhaps if they worked on the garden together they would once again find something they had in common.

"You've no right to put us in here!" Jessica struggled in the policeman's grasp as he propelled her along the corridor behind Jo and didn't stop shouting even when he closed the door, leaving her and Jo inside.

Jo sat quietly on the bed and waited until the young woman calmed down. It took a minute or two of her pounding on the door with her fists and shouting before she gave in and turned round, leaning her back against the door. Jessica's hands were red, but she kept them clenched and she looked like she was ready to hit someone. Jo sighed, knowing what was going to happen next. She'd met women like Jessica before.

Jessica was a newcomer to the world of environmental activism. She was fresh out of university and enthusiastic about changing the world. All Jo ever required was some passion, since the rest came later, so she'd happily brought Jessica along to the G8 protest. Jo planned to hold Jessica up as an example of how young people were prepared to fight, albeit peacefully, for the world their grandparents had created.

The media loved her which made Jo's job that much easier. Even Jo had to admit Jessica was more photogenic than Cliff. The trouble was that Jessica liked the attention a little too much. Jo realised she should have seen the signs earlier, but she hadn't wanted to see what was right in front of her.

Earlier today a group of people had decided that peaceful protest was getting them nowhere. There were always a few people like that, but this time Jessica was right in the middle of them. Jo had been unsuccessfully trying to stop her from throwing things at the police when the riot police arrived and arrested them all.

Now all they had to do was wait until Cliff bailed them out, but Jessica was too impatient for that.

"We can't let them treat us like this," Jessica said, her voice low and threatening.

Jo shook her head. "They're only doing their job."

"Because they're in it with the establishment." Jessica started pacing across the cell.

Jo wished she'd given Jessica more of an education before she brought her here. But Jessica was a bright girl and she'd sounded like she understood. "Who do you think is going to change things around here?"

Jessica shrugged. "Not the politicians we've got."

"Maybe not." Jo leaned back against the wall, watching Jessica and wondering when she would run out of energy enough to stay still. "But we can't just continue killing the planet while we wait for a different set to lobby."

Now Jessica halted mid-step and stared at her cell mate. "But you weren't doing anything."

Jo stood to face her. "We've been explaining what's wrong and giving them ideas of how to solve it. And the media attention we get puts more pressure on them to do something."

"Violent protest gets more media coverage." Jessica took a step forward, but Jo hadn't been intimidated by taller people since she was a child.

It was sad that Jessica was correct, but it didn't help their cause. "It doesn't get you the right coverage," she pointed out. "The public's sympathies are with the people having things thrown at them, not those doing the throwing."

"Maybe I should do it my way and you should do it yours and we'll leave each other alone." She turned her back on Jo.

Jo had hoped that by manoeuvring herself into getting locked up with Jessica would give her time to talk some sense into the girl. She stepped forward and put a hand on Jessica's arm. "Your grandfather will be disappointed to hear that," she said softly.

Jessica threw her hands up and stepped away from Jo's grasp. "Everyone's disappointed. Nothing I do is good enough for you, is it?"

"Oh, Jessica." She sighed. "I am proud of you. You've done what you want to do, not what everyone expects of you. Just like your father." She smiled, equally proud of him too.

Jessica turned back to Jo, angry again. "But it's all right to do what I want to, as long as it's what you want me to do, is that it?"

This was getting her nowhere, so Jo matched Jessica's tone. "If you're so determined to do the wrong thing, even when you can see it's wrong, then fine, you carry on." She sat back down and folded her arms, before adding, "I just think you should be sure what you're getting yourself into."

"What do you mean?" Jessica frowned.

Jo smiled and didn't say anything, just waited patiently. Jessica started pacing again, but didn't engage Jo in any more conversation. After an agonising ten minutes, the policeman returned and opened the door.

"You're free to go," he said to Jo.

Jo stood and stepped out of the cell, not looking back.

"Wait!" Jessica stood in the doorway, preventing the policeman from closing the door. "You're not leaving me in here."

Jo turned back to face her. "If you carry on the way you are you'll spend a lot more time in cells. I think you ought to find out what it's like before you make a choice." At least this cell was a pretty good one, and Jo had seen a lot to compare it with.

"I'm sorry, Gran," Jessica said, sounding desperate.

Jo shook her head. She wanted to believe Jessica, but it would take more than that before she really understood. A night in a cell might teach her a lesson. "I'll pick you up in the morning," she promised. She wasn't so heartless she could just forget about her. She nodded to the policeman, who closed the door on a now unresisting Jessica.

Jo tried not to think about the look on her granddaughter's face as she made her way out.

She hadn't felt anything peculiar before it happened and now she was just cold and wet, so she opted for going indoors where it was at least dry. Inside was an ordinary kitchen, albeit one built for giants. And a few decades out of date too, based on what she could see from this angle. It looked familiar, but she couldn't place it. Based on its size she had visions of being in Jack and the Beanstalk land, which made her afraid to call out to whoever might live here, so she tiptoed to the other end of the kitchen, listening for any giants crying "Fee, Fie, Fo, Fum," as she went.

"Sarah Jane, there you are."

Sarah stopped dead and looked up at the woman who had spoken. It was her Aunt Lavinia, although much younger and much taller. Maybe this was some sort of Brobdingnag in the past. Which made as much sense as anything else at the moment.

"Less than a day in this house and I'd already lost you," Aunt Lavinia said fondly. "And you're all wet. What were you doing out in the rain?"

Sarah shook her head. She didn't have a good answer for what was going on. She was supposed to be going to dinner with Harry, but having just got back from a job, she'd been running late as usual. She'd only stepped outside to see how cold it was, then she smelt the rain. None of which explained how she got here.

Aunt Lavinia sighed. "Let's get you out of those wet things." She put an arm around Sarah's shoulders, so Sarah had no choice but to go with her up the stairs. Despite Aunt Lavinia's size Sarah felt safe around her. Although she told herself she shouldn't, because Aunt Lavinia could be anyone in disguise, so she tried to stay on her guard.

"I'll get a towel," Aunt Lavinia said, then left Sarah in the bedroom.

It was definitely her bedroom. Now she knew where she was she knew why she recognised the rest of the house. Her bedroom looked exactly as Sarah remembered when she was little. The bed had white sheets on it, the chest of drawers was at the other end of the room and the curtains had blue flowers on. There was even her teddy propped up beside her pillow. He looked newer than she remembered - he had been falling apart by the time Aunt Lavinia convinced her to get rid of him.

Sarah started when she looked round and saw the full-length mirror by the door. The reflection in it was her childhood self. As she stepped forward and reached out to touch it, it was clear that it was an ordinary mirror and she was looking at herself. It explained why everything looked so big, but not how she ended up in her younger body and back in time.

She turned away from the mirror just as Aunt Lavinia came back with a towel. "Let's get your hair dry." She started rubbing at Sarah's hair and Sarah ducked out of her reach.

"I can do it," Sarah complained, putting her arms up to stop Aunt Lavinia getting near her head again.

"All right." Aunt Lavinia seemed happy about that and handed the towel over. "Can you dress yourself too?"

Sarah was about to say that of course she could, when she remembered she was just a child and she should sound like a child. Which would be fine if she knew what she'd sounded like at this age. She didn't know at what point small children said proper sentences and how many long words she was likely to know. So she just said, "Yes."

Aunt Lavinia nodded. "I'll be downstairs if you need me."

After she left Sarah dried her hair on the towel and found a t-shirt and some dungarees in a drawer. Getting dressed took more effort than usual, because this body didn't work in the way she was used to. And everything was a different size, even if her clothes were in proportion.

Afterwards, she went down the stairs cautiously, still unsure how she was supposed to behave. Once she reached the living room she found it didn't matter because Aunt Lavinia was leaning against the fireplace, handkerchief in one hand, crying. Sarah didn't remember ever seeing Aunt Lavinia cry before.

At her entrance Aunt Lavinia looked up and dried her eyes on her handkerchief. "Don't mind me, Sarah Jane." She sat on the sofa and gave Sarah a small smile.

Sarah abandoned her caution and went over to sit next to her. She'd never thought before that Aunt Lavinia would have been upset at her brother's death. You didn't when you were a child. In Lavinia's position Sarah thought she would probably have been overwhelmed. It couldn't have been easy to be mourning your brother while having to look after your five year old niece. So Sarah leaned over and hugged her aunt.

Aunt Lavinia hugged her back. "You're a good girl, Sarah Jane."

Sarah smiled up at her. There was a part of her that was glad to be spending some time with Aunt Lavinia. They were rarely in the same place at the same time these days, and as much as Sarah liked Moreton Harwood, it wasn't home the same way this house had become.

Aunt Lavinia wasn't one for such displays of sentiment, so a few moments later she said, "I think it's time for tea. Are you hungry, Sarah Jane?"

Sarah nodded, thinking it was far better for Aunt Lavinia to think she was unusually quiet, rather than sounding oddly like an adult. But she wasn't interested in playing like a child with whatever toys she had here while her aunt cooked, so she asked, "Can I help?"

Aunt Lavinia smiled. "Of course you can."

It turned out that being in a child's body meant she couldn't reach much and Aunt Lavinia wouldn't allow her near a sharp knife, so Sarah's help mostly consisted of working the egg-timer and tasting things. Although that was about her usual level of skill when it came to cooking, even when she was an adult, so she didn't mind.

After dinner they played cards, although Sarah had to let Aunt Lavinia suggest the game. She suspected that at the age she looked now she wouldn't have known gin rummy or poker. Snap turned out to be surprisingly hard to play as an adult and Aunt Lavinia wasn't inclined to let Sarah win.

Bedtime was earlier than Sarah expected, but she was more tired than she would have thought this early in the evening. Maybe it was this body needing more sleep or maybe it was the effect of being brought here. She lay in bed trying to sleep and worried about what she was going to do tomorrow before she realised she wouldn't be here tomorrow.

She remembered coming to Aunt Lavinia's house the day after her parents died, once they let her out of hospital. She'd gone outside, smelt something she couldn't place, and ended up outside another house she didn't recognise. Eventually a strange, but kind old man who'd known her name had looked after her. He'd told her a story too and in the morning she'd woken up back here.

When she finally fell asleep she dreamed her parents death all over again. So it came as a relief when Aunt Lavinia opening Sarah's bedroom door a crack to check on her woke her up. Her heart was racing and she sat up.

"You're supposed to be asleep," Aunt Lavinia said, although she came in and sat on the edge of Sarah's bed anyway.

"I was. But I had a bad dream." She hoped that was the right phrasing. Would she have known the word 'nightmare'?

Aunt Lavinia reached for Sarah's teddy and handed it to her. "Nothing can hurt you as long as Teddy and I are here."

Sarah smiled and lay back down. She knew nothing bad was going to happen, otherwise she'd have remembered it. "I'm glad you're here," she said, realising she'd never told Aunt Lavinia how grateful she was for looking after her after her parents died. She wished they were here, of course, but Aunt Lavinia was the next best thing.

Aunt Lavinia smiled. "I'm glad you're here too." She leaned down to kiss Sarah on the forehead, then left her to sleep.

After that, she didn't dream again.

~*~*~

When Sarah woke she could hear someone in the house. For a moment she thought it was Aunt Lavinia, until she remembered she wasn't in that house any more. She wasn't fully awake yet, so when whoever it was came closer and touched Sarah on the shoulder she didn't jump. When she opened her eyes she was glad to see Harry kneeling by the sofa. Surely she'd gone to bed in bed last night?

"How did I get here?" She sat up, yawning.

Harry studied her carefully, but avoided her question. She didn't know why. "Would you like some tea?"

"Oh, yes, please," she said with feeling.

He smiled and went to the kitchen. While he was gone Sarah inspected her surroundings. There wasn't anything out of place, but if Harry was here so early in the morning, he must have stayed the night. She only had one bedroom, but if she'd slept on the sofa, why had he slept in her bed? He was always adamant about her having the bed if either of them ever needed to stay at the other's flat.

She struggled to think back to what had happened last night, from his perspective, but it was a long time ago for her and she could only remember bits and pieces. Out of everything it was his story about the giant robot that had stuck with her. She had enjoyed it more than any of Aunt Lavinia's tales.

By the time Harry came back with tea and, unexpectedly, some toast too, she'd cleared the sofa so there was enough space for them both to sit down.

"Can you tell me what happened yesterday?" he asked, then started eating his slice of toast.

She had a sip of her tea before putting it on the coffee table and exchanging it for the plate. "It was the day after my parents died and Aunt Lavinia took me in." She bit her lip. She'd told Harry some of this, but it had been long enough ago that she hadn't had so many emotions associated with it. Now it felt like it had happened yesterday all over again. "I wish it had been the day before so I could have seen them again."

Harry looked as if he was going to say something, but the phone rang. Sarah left her toast behind and got up to answer it. If she'd given a moment's thought to who might be calling her at this time of the morning, she might have been more worried. But as it was, she didn't have any idea until the voice at the other end told her Aunt Lavinia was dead.

Sarah couldn't say much through the lump in her throat as they told her Lavinia didn't suffer. Sarah briefly promised to go to Moreton Harwood to deal with the funeral arrangements before she put the phone down. She couldn't quite believe this was all happening now and she stood by the phone, trying to work out what she should do next.

She looked over at Harry, who was staring at her with a worried expression on his face. "Aunt Lavinia's died," she told him. She wasn't sure if it was her saying it and making it real, or him hugging her, but it was then that she cried and held on tightly to him.

Eventually she managed to stop, refused Harry's offer of his handkerchief and wandered into the kitchen. She wasn't sure what she thought would be in there and it was only after she was standing in the middle of it that she remembered the mug of tea she'd left in the living room.

Outside it was raining and she was glad. It wouldn't be right for it to be bright and sunny today. She took another step and leant against the sink to watch the raindrops splatter into the puddles on the path. From Harry's reflection in the window she could see he'd followed her and not yet put his handkerchief away. "Even the weather knows," she said.

He put a hand on her shoulder and it was a comfort to know he was here and she didn't have to do this on her own. "That only happens in stories. In reality the weather does as it pleases."

Of course Harry would be practical like that, but she remembered the smell of the rain yesterday before dinner. It hadn't been normal rain - it had to be caused by something else, even if she didn't care what it was at the moment. "It was the rain that did it."

Harry said nothing. He probably didn't believe her, but she knew she was right, so she turned to face him. "Didn't you smell it?" He had been here at some point yesterday evening.

"Well, yes, I did." He frowned, still not understanding. "But--"

"It knew." She took his hands and almost managed to smile as she realised what it all meant. "It knew it was my last chance to see Aunt Lavinia and took me back there." Of course, had she known, she would have gone last night without the aid of the rain. But no one could guess the future.

"Sarah, we're not living in a story."

He squeezed her hands, which was probably supposed to be comforting. But Harry was always so disbelieving, even when the evidence was right in front of him. "And time travel is impossible," she reminded him.

He sighed. "All right, you win."

He took her back to the living room, but she couldn't face the toast now. She did manage to take the tea with her when Harry suggested she ought to get dressed at least. Once she was dressed she wondered if the odd rain was still working. So she pushed her feet into a pair of shoes and rushed outside, not stopping to close the back door. She looked up at the sky, willing the rain to take her again.

"What on earth are you doing?"

She shouldn't have been surprised Harry had followed her, given how concerned he'd looked. But Sarah only care about the rain, which smelt ordinary and wasn't going to work. "I want to go back. I want to see her again."

"Sarah." Harry reached out and put a hand on either side of her head, so she had to look at him. "Lavinia knew you loved her."

She bit her lip. He'd only met her the once, how could he know? She was sure he was right, but she still wanted to be able to tell her. "It's not fair." She leaned against him.

He put his arms around her again and stroked her hair. "Life isn't. The good guys don't always win."

Except in Harry's stories. In his world the good guys always won and evil was always vanquished. Sarah wished she could live in that world, for a while, like she had when she was five years old and found herself here. "And the robot doesn't always live."

At his silence she lifted her head to look at him. He looked shocked that she remembered that. She wanted to laugh at his expression, but settled for a grin and kissed him on the cheek, thanking him for all he'd done the past couple of days, and all she'd need him to do now she didn't have Aunt Lavinia any more.

Rodney hunches over his laptop and pretends not to hear the conversation on the next table. Not that it matters because it's all in Russian, but he's pretty sure they're talking about him. After two days he's learned the Russian for American and every conversation he's heard has included the word. No matter how many times he tells them, they don't seem to be able to understand that America and Canada are two different countries. That's the military for you - they don't recruit people for their brains. With the exception of Sam Carter.

Thinking about her makes him sigh and means he doesn't notice one of the marines approaching until he sits down opposite. Rodney hasn't bothered learning anyone's name; he doesn't plan on being here long enough to care. "Yes?" he says, shortly.

"I am scientist," the man says. "You tell me what I do and I help you."

Rodney opens his mouth to point out he doesn't need any help, but the idea of being able to order someone about is just too tempting to ignore. It's also possible, if unlikely, the marine isn't completely inept; if so, this might go quicker. The sooner he can get a few naquadah generators up and running, the sooner he can get out of here. So instead he says, "Get me some food."

The marine/scientist complies; a minute later he puts a plate of something on the table next to Rodney's laptop. Rodney looks at it suspiciously. "Is that food?"

"Is good." The marine starts digging into his own plate.

Rodney picks up something from the plate that he can't identify and bites into it. He quickly discovers that, although the mystery food looks soft, it's rock hard. "Ow!" He prods at his jaw gently. "I think I've broken a tooth."

"I take you to see doctor." The marine stands up, looking worried.

Rodney shakes his head vigorously. He's met the doctor on the base: he didn't speak a word of English and prodded Rodney until he hurt all over. He isn't going back there until they got a doctor who's sympathetic. "I'll go for a walk outside. It'll take my mind off it."

"Is snowing."

Rodney sighs again. He doesn't like the cold. He decides to go find the vodka instead. It's currently the only thing keeping him sane in this alien country.

2. Antarctica

Rodney's supposed to be working with the best scientific minds on Earth. He's seen their qualifications and knows they must all be brilliant. The only trouble is that none of them are showing it and all of them are acting like children. They constantly bicker and no one listens to a word he says. If only he had the Ancient gene: it would be so much simpler.

"I can't do it," Carson announces and stomps off.

Rodney knows how he feels. He's tried the chair twice and neither time could he make it do anything at all. At least Carson can get it to light up, which should count for something.

Around him, the other scientists speak to each other in a dozen different languages, but it's the ones speaking English who make the least sense. Talking to his cat gets better results, so Rodney's learned to ignore them all. It's not as it any of them know how to get Carson to get to the chair to do anything Carson can't, or won't, make it do.

Rodney's getting a headache, so he heads outside for some quiet. It takes ten minutes just to put on all the clothes that'll make sure he doesn't freeze to death, although he wonders if anyone would notice if he didn't bother. Outside, there's nothing but snow for as far as the eye can see. It reminds him of Russia in the winter. It's not comforting.

3. M3G-212

"Oh, look," Sheppard says, putting on those stupid sunglasses. He thinks they make him look cool. Rodney has given up telling him they don't. "It's an English village."

Rodney rolls his eyes and lets Sheppard explain to Teyla why the houses with the thatched roofs remind him of England. He doesn't think Sheppard has ever been to the place; he's probably only seen it in the movies.

"Why do all these planets look like Earth anyway?" Ford complains. "Everywhere we go the grass is green, the trees are green, the sky is blue. We could be on Earth for all we know."

Why is it that everywhere Rodney goes he's stuck with idiots? "The chlorophyll in the plants makes the leaves look green. The atmosphere scatters the blue end of the light spectrum, so that's what you see. If the atmosphere didn't have the same concentrations of elements we wouldn't be able to breathe. If the plants didn't have the chlorophyll they wouldn't be able to photosynthesize and there wouldn't be enough oxygen in the air to breathe."

"Thanks," Ford says. He sounds happy, even though Rodney made his explanation as short as he could and didn't slow down to take a breath. Maybe Ford likes the planet after all; maybe he's just bored with them all looking the same. Rodney doesn't really care.

The village green has park benches around it. Rodney sits on one of them and closes his eyes while Sheppard and Teyla make contact with the locals. He can almost imagine the sounds of distant traffic and yappy dogs being pulled along by their annoying owners. But those are things he's only seen in the movies and this is nothing like the Earth he remembers.

4. M4P-651

Rodney has his head bent over the life-signs detector as he ambles away from the Stargate. It's only when he hears Sheppard breathe "Wow" that he looks up. He blinks, wondering if his eyes have gone funny, but the look on Sheppard's face suggests he's seeing the same thing as Rodney

The grass is purple; the trees have multiple trunks and pink leaves; and the cloudless sky is white. It's the most alien landscape Rodney's ever seen. He half expects to be ambushed by little green men and carried off to be experimented on - except the life-signs detector tells him there's no one in the vicinity.

Ford once asked him why all planets looked the same. The answer had been so obvious that Rodney had been annoyed at having to spell it out. If Ford had been here now, Rodney's sure he would have asked why this planet was so different. Rodney doesn't know the answer yet and he hates to admit there's something beyond his understanding, but he still wishes Ford was here to ask the question.

"Makes a nice change," Sheppard says, breaking the moment.

Ronon and Teyla look at them, amused; they've seen it all before. As if by unspoken agreement, Sheppard and Rodney both try to act as nonchalant. But, as they start walking towards the nearest settlement, it's hard not to look at the unusual foliage.

5. Earth

They've been on Earth a week now and Rodney still isn't used to the view. Atlantis is floating in the Pacific Ocean and just outside the lab window is San Francisco. No one expects to be here very long but, while they are, they're taking the opportunity to get through all those little jobs they never seem to get around to when they're in imminent danger of attack from one race or another. Some people have gone home to visit their families and friends, but Rodney's been back on Earth recently enough and he's got more important things to do.

Except there's very little work going on. Too many of the people who've stayed in the city are spending too much of their time staring at the Golden Gate Bridge. In the end Rodney gives up trying to work and finds a balcony. Sheppard's already there, goodness knows why, but Rodney can't be bothered to go someplace else, so he leans on the railing beside him.

"It's not right," Sheppard says. "We shouldn't be here."

Rodney's been thinking the same thing all week. "I want to go home."

Sheppard nods. "We will. They can't keep us on Earth forever."

Rodney doesn't share Sheppard's optimism, but he hopes he's right. This isn't the planet he wants to live on any more.

1. Atlantis

When Rodney looks up into the sky, he can't pick out any of the constellations he's been used to seeing all his life. Even the Milky Way is no more than a bright smudge from here. The Ancients' database has names for all the stars visible from Atlantis, but he hasn't had enough time to learn many of them yet. The only one he can find without a computer is Sovegi, their pole star, at the end of the dragon's tail.

Zelenka's Czech swearing is still audible, even out on the balcony. But before Rodney goes back inside to fix whatever Zelenka has broken, he stays for a minute and listens to the lapping of the waves against one of the piers not far below him. The sound's supposed to be relaxing, according to an article he once read, long ago, before he learned not to read inaccurate pop science journals. Rodney's since decided the noise just makes him need to pee.

"Rodney." Zelenka's voice is loud enough that Rodney can tell, without turning round, that Zelenka's snuck out onto the balcony with him. "Are you coming back to work?"

"In a minute. Atlantis has been around for centuries. It'll wait a few minutes more." The whole city smells of history, the same way European castles do.

Zelenka comes up beside him and looks up at the sky. "It is a beautiful sight."

Rodney doesn't want to agree with him, because that will just encourage him. So all he says is, "It's home," before turning around and going back inside.

"Daddy," Johnny whispered, "there's a Dalek in my wardrobe."

According to Johnny there were all manner of monsters hiding in his room just waiting to ambush him. Ian regularly had to make his bedroom safe, but this was the first time the monster was something real. As he struggled to wake up properly he briefly wondered if there really was a Dalek in the house. But he was sure he'd know if the Daleks had invaded two hundred years early.

"All right," he said and stumbled out of bed. As he found his dressing gown and slippers in the dark, he thought about how to deal with this particular monster so Johnny would feel safe enough to go back to sleep.

Johnny followed Ian to his room, but stayed in the doorway. Ian yawned and opened the wardrobe, making sure he was between it and Johnny. He didn't feel up to searching the room for Daleks in the middle of the night. Having established there was nothing living in there, he shut the door and turned to his son. "There is a Dalek in there," he said. "But I think it's just exploring."

"But it wants to kill me," Johnny said, loud enough to wake Barbara up.

Ian shushed him. So much for that idea. "I won't let it," he promised. He looked around the room and spotted the cheap radio they'd bought Johnny for his birthday. "Do you remember I told you that Daleks use static electricity to get around?"

Johnny nodded.

"If we disrupt that, the Dalek will be paralysed and it won't be able to do anything." He hoped that would be good enough and he wouldn't need to prove it had gone.

Johnny thought about that for a minute before saying, "How do we do that?"

"We can use the wires in this plug." He picked the radio up. "Can you get me a screwdriver?"

Johnny ran off downstairs sounding like a herd of elephants. If Barbara wasn't already awake, she would be by now. Ian was just glad that although Johnny was scared of imaginary monsters in his bedroom, he would happily go downstairs in the dark on his own without a second thought. Now was not the time to wonder why.

While Johnny was downstairs Ian put a toy dinosaur in the wardrobe. He'd never described a Dalek in much detail and with the lights off, odd shapes could become anything. Even a Dalek.

Once Johnny came back and handed Ian the screwdriver from his toolbox, Ian set to work dismantling the plug on the radio. Johnny's curiosity overcame his fear and he peered over his father's shoulder as he worked. Fortunately, Ian had wired plugs a few times before and the half-light in Johnny's room was just enough to see by. On their own the wires inside the plug wouldn't do much, but Johnny didn't know that. By the time Johnny learnt more about how electricity worked there wouldn't be any more imaginary monsters in his bedroom to dispose of. "You should stand back," he said to Johnny, once he had the plug off.

Johnny went back to the doorway, wide-eyed.

Ian opened the wardrobe door and thrust the wires in. Since it had no real effect, he had to make the crackling noises himself. After a few seconds he stopped and said, "It's dead. Come and see."

Johnny peered around his father to look at the dinosaur half-hidden by clothes.

Ian held his breath while he waited for Johnny to agree that a non-moving dinosaur was a dead Dalek. At last Johnny said, "Thank you, Daddy."

Ian smiled at him. "Now you should go back to bed." At least Johnny didn't require disposal of dead monsters.

Johnny went to bed willingly, and Ian tucked him in before going back to his own bed. He left the screwdriver on the bedside table - he could put that away in the morning once he'd put the plug back on Johnny's radio. He discovered Barbara wasn't asleep when she moved closer to him and he put an arm around her, glad of her warmth.

"What was it this time?" she whispered.

"A Dalek in the wardrobe."

Barbara stiffened. "I told you not to tell him scary stories."

When Johnny asked for a story at bedtime they'd taken turns telling him tales of their adventures with the Doctor, but had left out the parts where it all looked hopeless and they nearly died. There was no need to scare him that much. "He likes scary stories. And I leave out the worst parts. Can we please have this argument in the morning?" Ian yawned again.

She pulled away from him, back to her side of the bed. "And you indulge him far too much. What were you doing in there tonight?"

He sighed. Apparently, they were going to have this argument now, in whispers, in bed in the middle of the night. "Electrocuting the Dalek. And I've tried just telling him it's not there. It doesn't work and he just ends up in our bed. Would you rather he did that?"

"No," she admitted, sounding begrudging about it.

"I'm just doing the best thing for you and Johnny." He reached out to take her hand and she let him.

"I know. But you could still tell him stories that aren't going to end up with him getting you up in the night."

She did have a point there. "I will," he promised and leaned over to kiss her forehead. "Oh, and there's a dinosaur in his wardrobe you'll have to take out in the morning."