The Tardis landed softly and Clara smiled up at the older man behind the controls, watching his brow come together in concentration as he passed a quick glance in her direction and, because he knew she wanted to hear it, he switched the brakes on. The familiar vworp vworp of the Tardis sounded angrily and Clara giggled her thanks before she rushed to the door as he lifted a hand, calling her name.

"Don't wander off," she moaned in a horrible impression of a Scottish accent, before glancing back, "You don't have to tell me every time we land, Doctor – thought we'd established I'm pretty good at sticking to your side. It's you who wanders off." Clara narrowed her eyes at him and watched the left side of his lips twist up into an awkward smile.

It'd been hard, getting used to this face, but she was beginning to like it. There was something oddly innocent about it, despite the roughness, that she found endearing and – she sighed – she found herself protective of the man who'd been born on her watch because his predecessor had aged to the point of death without her by his side. Clara pushed away the thought just as he came to her side, and she offered him a grin instead, taking hold of the door and opening it to the planet that seemed tinted blue.

"Bit…" the Doctor began, wrinkling his nose, "Dreary."

Clara shrugged, "You picked the planet – thought you'd like it, matches your Tardis."

"Oi," he hissed, "Don't get cheeky."

With a laugh, she stepped out onto the midnight pavement and began wandering about the marketplace, looking over the strange beings rattling off items and prices through the pincers they had for mouths. "They do look a bit like bugs, don't they?" She told him quietly, mildly amused.

He pushed his hands into his pockets, following behind her cautiously, eyes always peering over the landscape and examining the inhabitants for any signs of hostility. "Imagine if humans hadn't been the rulers of the planet – if reptiles and mammals had been wiped out entirely and only the insect population survived. This, these creatures, they would walk over the Earth as owners."

"I know, actual big bugs, I do remember" she called curtly, and the Doctor frowned as she moved around a corner too quickly for him to keep up, and he heard her release a shout of laughter. Then he heard, "No, actually, not her; future her. We probably shouldn't even be talking."

"Oh, Clara Oswald," the Doctor heard a familiar voice reply, "What's the fun in playing in the universe if we can't test her limits occasionally." Then there was a pause. "Actually, you could be right. You're probably right. Drats, you're right – shouldn't be talking; should be walking away. Waving and smiling and not asking questions or inferring answers from awkward pauses and painful grins, but tell me one thing – am I close by? I could have a chat with myself maybe, no, maybe. Could I?"

Clara chuckled again, easily, in a way he'd rarely heard and yet this man could elicit it from her with one random sentence that sounded so bloody familiar he grimaced at the black spots still rummaging through his mind. Making it impossible for him to remember the same things from day to day – he supposed, one of the side effects of an extra set of regenerations.

"Could introduce you to my new companion," Clara offered and the Doctor frowned, mouthing the word in disgust – companion? Her new companion. He watched her emerge from behind a thick carpet hanging off a stand and she reached for him, yanking him forward before he could protest and when he rounded the corner, he felt a surge of panic.

"Hello," the Eleventh doctor called, "New companion, nice to meet you, I'm the Doctor."

Patting his chest with the back of her hand, Clara stated blankly, "This is T.. elve."

"Telve," the Eleventh repeated, brow furrowing as he repeated the name under his breath and looked to the ground in the split second before he was cheerfully up and taking his hand to shake, "Telve, never met a Telve – interesting name, you pick that up on Earth? Did I pick him up on Earth?" He smiled, then sniggered and corrected, "Do I pick him up on Earth?"

There was that laugh again. The Doctor looked to Clara and the way she stared up at his former self and he didn't recognize the look in her eyes, he almost didn't recognize her. She was standing straighter, as if trying to accommodate for the height difference, and her chin jutted out at him pointedly, begging for his attention, and her eyes. Shifting beside her, he took in the sparkle he'd rarely seen that now seemed permanently stuck there and for a moment, there was a burst in his memories. A remembrance of the way she looked at him through his eyes.

He'd never noticed it before. "How could I have been so flippin' thick?" The Doctor sighed.

"Come again?" The Eleventh asked, bending slightly before slapping a palm to his shoulder. "Have you forgotten something back at the Tardis?"

Clara turned and took in the way he was watching her, the pained look on his face, and she shifted fully towards him, asking him blankly, "Are you alright?" Then she clenched her jaw and closed her eyes before looking back to the Eleventh, slowly – and with a shaky voice – admitting, "We should really get back to the Tardis, Doctor. It's not a good idea to meddle with time, said so yourself."

He frowned in frustration and clasped his hands together, looking about and then telling her, "I really should be finding the real you anyways; suppose I wandered off."

"I'm by the jewelry – the kind you said smelled of urine and refused to let me buy," Clara allowed, and the Doctor watched the way her body shifted towards him as he nodded and then burst away in a silly run, calling out her name.

With a long sigh, she looked back to the Doctor and he noticed the light had gone dim in her eyes as she moved to his side and slipped her hand comfortably in his, tugging him back towards the Tardis with a simple, "We could come back some other day."

"You prefer him," the Doctor said quietly as they reached the blue doors.

Swallowing roughly, she replied honestly, "He was my Doctor; the one who picked me up and started this whole adventure."

"You're…" he began, seemingly frustrated, "Different with him."

Clara opened her mouth and then clamped it shut, glancing sideways up at him, right side of her mouth twisting upwards with realization as her eyebrows dropped slightly. "You're jealous."

"I am not jealous," he stuttered, pushing the door open and stepping inside quickly, finding his way to the console to press his palms into the metal firmly.

But she followed, pointing at him and narrowing her eyes to specify, "You're jealous of yourself."

"I am not jealous," he repeated loudly, feeling flustered and hating that she had that affect on him.

Clara's mouth fell open and she released a small huff of laughter, and then she pointed out, "Hang on, you should have a memory of this; you have a memory of this and yet… still jealous."

Giving his right temple a light tap of his fingers, he barked, "My memories are a bit scrambled – like your soufflés."

"Jealous and angry," Clara teased.

"Stop," he told her, hand raised.

She smiled, inching closer and chuckling. "Oh, I do like this."

"You would!" He shouted, glancing up and watching the Tardis doors snap shut on their own just before he pushed the throttle and sent them back into the vortex. The Doctor watched the way she smirked at him and he muttered, "Enjoy flustering the old Doctor."

"I enjoy that you're jealous," she told him absently, turning her attention to the controls. "He wasn't really the jealous sort; could never get a proper read on whether…"

"He liked you," he interrupted.

"Yeah," she nodded, glancing up at him, smile fading from her lips.

The Doctor rounded the console and bent slightly to repeat, "He liked you." He reached out and she glanced at where her hand sat, but the Doctor swung a lever instead and he rambled as he moved around her and began working the controls in a circle around the center. "Told you, memories jumbled and all, but I can remember the way you looked to him, all short and silly and brown, but there was something…" He met her eyes across the tubing now glowing bright sea green.

Clara's head hung and she swung around to look back at the doors.

"You don't have to travel with me," he sneered. "Old man; dusty box – you could go home, you know. Have an ordinary life, Clara Oswald."

Slipping around the console slowly, Clara drifted her fingers over the buttons and switches and then over the hand that rested on a blank space. She forced it up and into her hand and she raised it to her mouth to kiss before shaking her head. "You're the same man, Doctor – never question that again."

And when she looked at him then, there was a twinkle in her eyes he'd never realized was especially just for him.