She was flying on a plane.

Clara didn't understand why the notion was putting bubbles in her stomach and a light feeling in her head, but as she boarded, she found herself grinning at anything and everyone, uttering shy hello's to anyone who made eye contact with her. Travelling to the United States, off to see Broadway and Time Square and Central Park and maybe Niagara Falls. And it wasn't in a Tardis with a manic fool who would immediately launch them into trouble… it was by herself, able to explore and quietly observe and… quiet.

There were the light rolls of her nerves.

She hadn't truly had a moment to herself in months. In years if she was honest with herself, and the promise of a quiet week walking through museums, shopping for knock off purses, and getting sick of street corner food carts. Of going to sleep early and staying in bed late seemed like a dream come true. She checked her ticket and then stopped at her aisle, standing on tip toe to shove her carry-on bag into the overhead compartment before slipping over the empty seat and falling into the spot next to the window, looking out at the tarmac.

Hands clasped in her lap, she fiddled with the edges of her skirt, just waiting for the unlucky person who had the seat beside hers – because she was certain to begin asking questions, or trading travel details, or to simply receive a gruff nod from her greeting. When the cushion beside her shifted loudly, she gave a hop and turned and shouted,

"Doctor?"

Large grin on his foolish face, he gestured at her and exclaimed, "Clara!"

But she shook her head, "No, no," she started, "What are you doing here?"

He frowned, "I thought you'd be happier to see me."

"I'm on vacation," she told him plainly, eyes growing wide as she watched him bounce.

"I know!" He lifted a finger, "I went to the Maitland's, they said as much, got your flight information and did a little jiggery-pokery and," he dropped the back of his hands against his lap, whispering, "Seating arrangement was a bit of a pickle, but I was able to get this switched out with one in first class – don't think the chap'll mind that much."

For a moment she considered why he hadn't switched her up into first class, but she shook her head again and laughed nervously, "No, Doctor, I'm on vacation from everything."

Leaning forward, he whispered, "By everything, am I to take it you mean from the Maitland's… and myself?"

She nodded slowly, feeling embarrassed because she was certain the couple behind them was listening intently and she was sure she was about to break at least one of the Doctor's hearts. More out of pride than anything else, but she waited, watching his jaw shift from side to side as he worked over the information and then fell back into the seat.

"That ticket was non-refundable," he muttered. "Where are we going anyways?" Then he turned, "And why didn't you just ask me to take the Tardis?" And then, as if it suddenly dawned on him, he swallowed roughly and asked, "How long will we be gone?"

Clara watched him search the air in front of him with wide eyes and a terrified expression and she realized, "You parked the Tardis at the airport," then she added with a sort of delight, "You're stuck without the Tardis, on an airplane, in real time, travelling."

He turned, "This isn't funny. Not remotely funny."

Shifting in her seat and buckling her belt as the stewardess passed with a nod to them, she allowed, "It's actually quite funny, but if it makes you feel better, we're technically travelling back in time… and when we return, we'll be moving forward."

"How long?" He whined.

She smiled, "A week."

"I'm stuck in normal time for a week!" He gasped as Clara reached over him to buckle his seatbelt in his lap as he made a face of disgust at the back of the seat in front of him.

Clara leaned back and they began to taxi out to the runway as he raised his hands and then dropped them and she managed to murmur, "Yeah, stuck with me for a week – about as bad as it gets."

At that he turned and pointed and his brow fell back to its normal place, a small hint of a smile settling on his lips as he assured, "Getting stuck with you is never a bad thing, Clara Oswald." Then he tilted his head, "Where are we going?"

"New York."

She watched the shadow of sadness pass over his face and was tempted to ask him about it, but he shook it away as quickly as it had arrived and he leaned into her shoulder launching into a history of the state, how many times he'd saved it, and how they had to steer clear of statues. Clara didn't question it and she realized she had her own personal tour guide and she leaned into him until their foreheads almost touched. They lifted into the sky and he gave a small hoot of glee.

"Doesn't compare to the time vortex," he teased.

Clara laughed and she watched his eyes light up as he continued. Relaxing, she found herself less anxious about the trip and more excited as he rattled on about old underground sewers, secret tunnels in the subway system, and hidden doorways in the park. His knuckle reached out to brush her cheek purposely as he spoke, occasionally a fingertip tapped at her nose or head and Clara knew this trip would definitely be one she'd never forget.