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The Doctor started scrambling through the newspapers scattered across the room, pulling out the most recent. Fitz caught a glimpse of the main square. You couldn’t smell the stench of the streets, taste the dust still settling. The photo was safe, freed from the other senses, it hid the real memories outside its frame. Fitz took the newssheet up and studied the image. Again, it seemed unreal, a phantom of the place he had been in. He could imagine what lay beyond the photographer’s frame, the bodies being slowly pulled free...

Fitz put the paper down and looked to the Doctor.

‘We’ve been disconnected for too long,’ the Doctor was suggesting. ‘The consensus in these papers is that the Republicans torched the town but that isn’t what you remember, is it? You’ve only been disconnected from the TARDIS for a few days, not the months we’ve been here. You can see the different versions more clearly than we can.’

Fitz rubbed his face, feeling the beard growth, the ingrained dirt. He wanted a bath. He wanted a sleep.

‘That’s the thing, Sasha seemed to see the same as me.’

The Doctor was crouching next to the chair in seconds, gripping one of Fitz’s arms. Holding his eyes with his own. ‘You’re sure? This Sasha, where is he now?’

* * *

Pia put the latest transcript into a manila folder, then dropped it in Burton’s in-tray. Their turnover of work was much faster now, he had a knack for producing the required results quickly. He’d brought new techniques with him, when he’d arrived in December, and an understanding of how to find people’s weak spots. Her workload, though, had increased. Today she was determined to get out of the building for some lunch, instead of eating in the sullen canteen or missing the meal altogether. So the paperwork was done and she was slipping away before she could be given more.

Her heels clacked on the bare floors as she hurried down the corridors and into the main foyer. Several soldiers lounged about in the area, leaning on the square pillars, smoking. At the main desk, someone was arguing with the man behind it. She didn’t glance his way, best not to show any interest. She glimpsed dark red in the peripheries and looked over. The Doctor was hanging back a bit, watching the argument. Her pace slowed.

‘Look, he would have reported here yesterday.’

The Doctor looked at her as the man’s voice rose and their eyes met. She frowned. What was he doing here at all, anyway? His eyes flicked towards the open front door and gate beyond. So he wanted to talk to her? And it was urgent enough for him to come here, risking her reputation, making the Party more suspicious of her. He unfolded his arms and she was suddenly worried that he would speak to her. She gave a frantic, tiny nod, her eyes flashing to the door. Outside, go outside. She sped back up, walking faster now to divorce herself from the scene behind her. She heard the Doctor’s voice soothing the irate enquirer.

‘Come on, Fitz, leave it.’

‘But –’

‘Leave it.’

She was crossing the front courtyard, passing parked cars, and then out through the gate. Nodding to the guard on duty. She turned left, then right, getting quickly out of sight of her workplace. There was the café where she had first run into the Doctor and Anji. She found an empty table and sat facing the street, checking there were no familiar faces at the other tables. She knew most of the agents, open and secret, in the town now. All clear. The owner hurried over with a coffee for her.

‘Gracias.’

‘Two more, please.’ The Doctor was sliding into the chair opposite her, the scruffy guy who had been haranguing the front desk standing behind him.

‘What did you think you were doing?’ she hissed at the Doctor. ‘And get your friend to sit down, he’s drawing attention.’

As the younger man found a chair and brought it over, she took the opportunity to make mental notes on him. Taller than the Doctor, lanky, dressed in a battered leather coat. Bags beneath his eyes suggested a lack of sleep recently.

‘Pia, this is Fitz.