Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters, but I am endlessly grateful that the BBC, Steven Moffat, Neil Gaiman and Russell T Davies won't sue me for using them without their permission. No copyright infringement intended.

Author's Note: There was no category for "corporate thriller," but if I could call it that, I would, as that's what this will be. :-p Also, I've never read a DW corporate AU before (other than frombluetored's "Everest", which is where I got the idea from - many thanks to her for graciously allowing me to write what I dreamed up as kind of a prequel to her story! :)) - so apologies if this is similar to any others out there. Finally, a HUGE shout-out to my phenomenally fabulous beta, Friendship-Bravery-Souffles, who was nothing short of endlessly encouraging when I first spilled this out to her - and has been an amazing support with editing, idea-bouncing and helping me with titles. This story would not have been published without her, so - as always - many, many cheers for the unapologetically awesome V! :D

2014

Clara was quiet during the car ride, the knot in her stomach intensifying as the limousine rolled inevitably towards their stop. The streets of New York sped by, their crisp blanketing of snow enabling her gaze to unfocus, gleaming, pristine white burning into her retinas, making them sting. She blinked several times against it, though mercifully, her tear ducts did not betray her. Her friends spared her any attempts at comforting or conversation, but she could still feel how their eyes flitted over her, would catch the occasional exchanged looks between them. She noted the sign as the limousine made a slow turn, and her gloved fingers tightened around the object in her lap. The driver kindly offered a hand to help her out of the car once they had arrived, but she ignored it, afraid to let go for even a second. She tried to pretend the Doctor's arm was around her, guiding her, tried to draw strength from his presence as she led the somber procession to the site.

It was a simple stone, like his instructions had indicated. No frills, no fuss, not even his real name. Just the name everyone knew and lines that summed him up perfectly:

THE DOCTOR

1975-2013

"I've never met anyone who wasn't important."

Unique in the Universe.

She stared dry-eyed, the moment too surreal to be believed. The urn's patina caught the weak January sun peeking through the clouds, momentarily blinding her so she had to squeeze her eyes shut. Someone must have noticed as an arm came down heavily on her shoulders and she looked up to see Jack giving her a slight, reassuring nod. She tried for a smile, but she couldn't hold it and hugged the urn closer to her chest.

It hadn't left her sight since earlier that morning, nor would it leave her sight before she traveled with it to its final destination later that afternoon. Though thankfully, she would be making that journey alone.

"Clara? Do you want to say something?"

Jack's voice startled her out of her reverie, and she shot him a look, shaking her head quickly.

"Okay. Well…do you mind if I do?"

She made some motion with her shoulders and her head that indicated she didn't. Or, at least, that she wasn't going to stop him.

Jack clasped his hands in front of him. "Doctor…I just wanted you to know that – we already miss you. We'll always miss you. But we're doing our best here, trying to carry on without you. What we do – we do in your honor…in your name. So…we'll try not to screw it up too much."

Her lips twitched like a ghost of a smile might cross her face, but then they fell back into the straight line she'd maintained all day. She was counting down the hours, the minutes, until she could deliver this urn. Until she could be done with it and finally set her emotions free.

Jack had broken out a flask, and he raised it morosely in salute. "To the Doctor."

Clara watched as he passed it to Ianto, who followed suit, one arm going around his husband's shoulders. He then passed it on to Idris, who shot Jack a frown. But she took it sighing, saluted the Doctor and passed it to Vastra, who looked skeptically at the flask before reluctantly taking it, too. Jenny took it from her, taking a tentative sip, then tried to offer it to Strax but was met with a scowl. So she handed it off to Craig and Sophie, who each gave the Doctor a heartfelt salute. Finally, Sophie held it up questioningly to Clara, but Clara refused, willing time to speed along, praying that they'd reached the end of their sad little gathering.

When the group finally parted ways, she walked with quick steps back to the limo, which was now blessedly empty. Once inside, she slid down into the seat, still clutching the urn like a lifeline.

She would take it to its final destination.

And the Doctor would know peace at last.

2013

Prologue – Madman With a Sock

"You know…I was just thinking…"

"Hmmm…?"

"And this is not because I'm complaining, because believe me – I am definitely not complaining…"

"Mmhmmm?"

"But I was just thinking…that if we lived together, we could continue to have sex in my desk chair, but we could do it within the privacy of our own home."

The Doctor felt Clara tense as her chest filled with a predicable sigh. "Doctor…"

"Or –" He barreled on. "Or…if we were married, then we could keep having sex in my desk chair, but it would be our desk chair because technically you would own half of it according to New York state law."

She guffawed. "Do you really think Idris would let me come within a fifty-mile radius of owning half of your property?"

The air went out of his lungs like a deflated balloon. "You let me deal with Idris…"

"I don't think she'd let me own half of your anything…maybe half of the arm…" She stroked the arm in question with her toes before replacing her leg across his. "On second thought, it's a big arm so she'd probably only let me have about a third of it…maybe a fifth if she was really in a mood."

"You know that she could only control that in a prenuptial agreement, and technically, that's only if the marriage -"

"I know." She snuggled further into his lap. "And I'm not saying things would go that way, but…we've talked about this, Doctor."

He stiffened in her embrace. "Actually, we haven't. Usually what happens is that I bring it up and you tell me you don't want to talk about it right now, and then we don't. But that doesn't mean that we've actually talked about it."

Unsurprisingly, Clara responded to this with silence.

He started playing with her hair, taking her lack of reply as encouragement. "You already run half the company with me - why it would be such a problem if you owned half of it, too?"

Her head moved beneath his fingers like she didn't want to say. Or possibly it was just another shake.

"What? Everyone trusts you now – and all our clients know that the CEO doesn't come without his Chief Strategic Officer at his side." He gave her shoulders a gentle squeeze. "And everyone knows about what happened…before. You remember the reassuring emails you received after the trial, eh?" He pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

She was tracing random patterns on his chest with the tip of her finger. "But what about the High Council?"

His head fell back against the cushion as he let out a groan. "Out of all the things that were said that night, why does that stick the most? Especially since it's the most likely to come back and bite me in the arse, calling the Board of Directors the High Council of…what did I call them again?"

She giggled. "You called them Lords of Time because of how concerned they are with punctuality."

"Well, they are! You'd think that if you got to live the poshest life imaginable, sipping maitais or martinis on a secluded island in the middle of nowhere, that you wouldn't be so obsessed with time!"

She craned her neck to look at him. "Says the man who can go to his own private island and sip maitais and martinis and still manage to worry about all of the things he's missing while he's gone."

The Doctor couldn't tell whether that was admiration or admonishment in her tone. "At least I don't sit back like a Lord, letting the world turn on its axis and make a vow never to interfere in anyone's business."

She gave him an affectionate peck. "No, you don't. You interfere every time."

"Oh, I interfere, do I?"

"Help," she corrected quickly.

He smiled. "Ha. You love that I interfere."

"Yep. Just one of the many, many things…"

"Ah - many, many, eh?" He leaned in for a longer, deeper kiss. "What else have you got on this very long list, Clara Oswald?" She opened her mouth to reply, but his finger went to her lips, silencing her. "Wait. No. Don't tell me." He dropped his finger, reaching for her hand instead which he began peppering with kisses. "I want you…to write it down."

Her expression was somewhere between bemusement and active questioning of his sanity. "O…kay."

"Yes." He continued to kiss her hand, concentrating on the fingers. "Write it all down, and then don't let me read it and don't let me see it."

"Um…"

He laid feathery kisses on her palm. "Keep it tucked away somewhere I won't find it."

"So…you want me to write something down that you're never going to read?"

"Yes. No! Well…sort of. That is – you'll keep it hidden until the day that you read it to me."

Her face scrunched up. "Right…so I'm gonna go through the trouble of writing down all the things I love about you, make sure I keep it hidden, and then one random day, you'll ask me to read them to you?"

"Exactly! Well, no – not one random day. One very specific day, of course."

She looked like she was edging towards annoyance now. "And that would be when?"

He deliberately turned her hand over, grasping it in both of his and laid a very soft kiss on the back of it, whilst gazing down into her eyes. "On our wedding day."

All traces of annoyance vanished, replaced by a watery smile. "Proud of yourself for that one?" she asked hoarsely.

"Extremely," he replied, which was utterly belied by his lovelorn expression.

She raised her head a bit, brushing her nose against his sweetly. "I would love to be married to you, Doctor..."

He let the moment wash over him, basking in the glow of what was arguably the closest to an acceptance he'd ever received. "And I would love to be married to you, too. So…can't we just stop there?"

She sighed, leaning her forehead into his. "We can't," she whispered.

And just like that, the glow was gone, like someone had snuffed it out. "Why not?"

Though there was a definite longing there, he couldn't miss the determined set of her jaw. "Because we have to think about what's good for TARDIS…and you know that the High Council would never approve of it."

He scoffed. "I am not letting a bunch of, of – Time Lords – dictate who I marry!"

"Exactly." She flashed him a rueful smile. "And that's why you've got me – because it's my job to think of things like that. They know TARDIS is your love, your life –"

"You're my love and life." The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them, feeling immediately sheepish at his soppiness. But Clara didn't seem to mind, giving him a look that could very well have melted him into a puddle on the floor. So he kissed her again, opting not to displace her from her very comfortable position in his lap. "And anyway, TARDIS has become your love and life, too, right?"

"You know it is," she replied emphatically, patting his chest as if to emphasize her words. "But you've been running it for almost fifteen years – it's your baby. Sure, they haven't minded the other people who've helped you run it along the way – but only as long as it stays entirely within your hands, your control. Same goes for the clients, Doctor – they might like me well enough, yeah, but…I'm still just the unemployed bartender and part-time daycare operator you randomly brought in to help you run your company two years ago."

The Doctor sputtered. "Just the unemployed bartender -!"

"With no business experience –"

"What?! How can you say you have no business experience after –"

"First impressions, Doctor. Yeah, they know about everything now, but when you first brought me in – that's all they saw. And that's all they'll see again if they know that I have just as much of a say as you do in how we run TARDIS."

The Doctor clasped his hands around her face, staring into it intently. "But you already do have an equal say in how we run TARDIS – and everyone knows that. Even the High Council of Time Lords."

She shook her head, smiling sadly. "But no matter what practices are already going on, everything changes once you legalize something. It becomes more official – more public."

He shot her a gloomy look. "Now you sound like Idris…"

She shrugged lightly. "As much as I hate to admit it…she'd bring up things like this, and I wouldn't be able to argue with them. That's why she's such a brilliant General Counsel." She reached up and stroked his face, as if she thought that would somehow cushion the blow of her rejection. "We'll still be – y'know – you and me, continue as we have before, and…" She trailed off as he evaded her touch. "Doctor –" she protested as he nudged at her to get off his lap.

He busied himself with retrieving various articles of his clothing in silence: pants, trousers, his shirt, tie and one sock. Seizing the opportunity to put some distance between them, he sat on the settee, starting with the sock.

He heard her sigh, then start to pick up her own clothing. By the time she'd found her knickers and dropped onto the settee next to him he was up again. Fully dressed but for one sock.

"Now you know why I never wanted to talk about this," she muttered as she pulled on her skirt.

"Have you seen my sock?" He tried to retrace their steps, from the moment she'd entered his office to where they'd ended in his chair. There were only so many places it could be…

She ignored his question, her tone almost pleading. "You know that I'm only trying to think of what's best for the company."

"And you think I don't? How do you think I've kept it going for fifteen years?" A quick lap around his desk proved fruitless in his search.

"I know, but…" She directed her attention to her blouse. "This is different. And you know it's different: some part of you knows I'm right, and that's why you're not arguing with me about it."

"No. The reason I'm not arguing with you about it is because I don't want to argue with you." He dropped to his hands and knees, peeking underneath his desk. "And also because I know you don't want to say what the real reason is."

She made a noise of insult. "What? What do you mean – 'the real reason?'"

He opened a drawer and searched for his penlight, but to no avail. "You said so yourself – legalizing it would make it official. Make it public." He sat back on his heels and tried to soften his expression. "You'd be in the spotlight…"

The speed at which she started erecting walls around herself was impressive. "So? I've done interviews and press since the trial."

"I know, but –"

"I didn't exactly make a run for it, if that's what you're implying."

The unmistakable hint of accusation stung him a little, but he knew she couldn't help it. "You know I'm not."

She looked slightly chastened, ducking her head. "That part of my life is over, Doctor." Her wide eyes implored him. "I'm never gonna go back to living like that."

"Of course you're not." Now he yearned to erase the distance between them, but there was still the chance he'd scare her off the topic - and then where would he be? "What I was trying to say is…if you were put in the middle of something so public, well…it wouldn't be very comfortable, would it?"

She regarded him thoughtfully, marks of apprehension between her brows and in the twist of her mouth. She finally shook her head.

"So…" He let his hands rise and fall, suddenly realising that he couldn't do that to her– that there was no solution to this. Though the other issues could be worked around – ownership of the company wouldn't change unless she specifically wanted a share of it – and he would just have to give Idris free rein of the prenuptial agreement she'd inevitably force on him at first - marrying him would mean Clara's name would be permanently attached to his every transaction, every appearance in the press. She would be thrust into a place that made her uncomfortable, and, after keeping to the shadows for so long, he imagined how that could feel downright unbearable.

There was no way they could get married and not have it become a public affair.

Unless…

Unless.

"So," he began carefully, talking it out. "Technically TARDIS is a limited liability company - ownership will remain the same regardless of my marital status. Which means that if my marital status were to change, nobody would need to be informed…so what if everything continued as usual…except we'd discreetly be sharing a flat and also sort of happen to enjoy all of the other legal benefits of being married?"

The furrow of her brows deepened, which was a welcome change from the apprehension. "How would we do that?"

"Because we'd get married in secret."

"In secret?"

"Yes." The plan was starting to form, and he couldn't help his excited tone, excited enough to scoot over to her on his knees. "We could go to some private destination and have a quiet ceremony - even pass it off as a client visit."

She was biting her lip, which was a good sign. It meant she was actually considering it, instead of rejecting it immediately. "Some people would need to be informed, though…"

"Such as?"

"Well, as much as I hate to say it – Idris would need to know. It's a legal transaction, even if it's not public."

The Doctor sighed. "Yes, I suppose. But let me deal with her."

"And Vastra."

"Vastra?" He shot her a confused look. "Why would she need to know?"

Her head fell to the side as she regarded him incredulously. "Benefits, Doctor. Medical benefits would change – rather vital information for a Head of Human Resources. Plus, if we were living together, she'd need to know my new address so my paycheck didn't go to my current flat, right? And then if Vastra knows, Jenny would know by default."

"Eh? Oh, right…I keep forgetting that's a 'thing.'"

"Even if it wasn't a 'thing,' you'd have to tell her anyway. I'm guessing that would be pretty difficult to keep from your Executive Assistant – how could she not pick up on it with all the personal errands she does for you? Speaking of picking up on things – Jack will definitely know."

"What?! The others – yes, I can see them, but - he's the Executive Director of Business Development. Why on earth would he need to know about this?"

Clara smirked. "I'm not saying he'd need to know for the company – but considering he's the first one who guessed that something was going on between us…he'll know. And that, of course, means Ianto will find out, too."

The Doctor reluctantly conceded with her. "Though I can't say the same for his husband, at least our Chief Financial Officer knows how to keep his mouth shut."

Clara blinked at him, then shook her head amusedly. "Oh, Doctor…"

"What?"

"Nothing. Just another one of your unintentional gay innuendos about those two."

The Doctor gaped indignantly. "Again? How do I keep doing that?" He sat back on his heels in a huff.

She gave him an affectionate smile. "That'd actually probably go on my list…"

Something like hope started to stir in his chest, propelling him the slightest bit forward. "Your list? You mean – the one for…?"

"Oh, and speaking of those, my dad would need to know. He'd never forgive me if he didn't get to walk me down the aisle, regardless of what, or where, the 'aisle' is. And – while we're on the subject of people who'd never forgive me – pretty sure Sophie would never speak to me again if she didn't get an invite. So I guess that means Craig is coming, too."

The Doctor bit back a remark on her change of tenses, deciding to see how long it was before she noticed. "We'll give them plenty of advance warning so they can find a sitter for Alfie."

She flashed him an appreciative smile. "That'd be good, yeah. Rita wouldn't speak to me again, either, if she wasn't invited."

The Doctor forced a nonchalant shrug. "Always good to have tech support around, so she can monitor the servers, report if anything happens. Make sure TARDIS doesn't crash while we're away."

Clara nodded. "Strax won't care or want to know, so he can stay behind to hold down the fort."

"He'll probably be delighted to have all of us gone, just so he can test and re-test all of the security protocols without as many people complaining."

Clara winced. "Can't say I'm gonna be sad to miss that…sometimes I think he takes being Chief Security Officer a bit too seriously..."

The Doctor gave a slight nod, having to direct his attention to the floor so he wouldn't vibrate with excitement too noticeably. "Aha!" He spied the toe of his sock sticking out from under the settee and scooped it up triumphantly.

The look Clara was giving him was reminiscent of those times when she'd carefully arranged her features into something different than what she wanted him to see. "So," she began casually. "Did you notice that we seem to be talking about a guest list and not just people that would know now?"

His sock hung limp in his fist, forgotten. "I did notice that, yes."

A corner of her mouth twitched nervously. "So…"

He rose slowly up on his knees, looking at her expectantly. "So…?"

She was fidgeting with her rings now. "So…" Her voice came out soft, tentative even.

His hands landed on her knees in his eagerness, and he found himself breathlessly asking again. "So, Clara Oswald…are you actually agreeing to marry me?"

She noticed his hands. "Are you proposing with your sock?"

His eyes went wide as he embarrassingly whipped it behind his back. "No!"

Her face broke into a grin, and that was followed by a long, bubbly laugh. "Yes," she whispered, then bit her lip, possibly in surprise at how her eyes suddenly shone with tears.

He lunged forward, both hands clapping on her knees. "Yes?"

She nodded, grasping his face between her palms. "Yes."

Restrained no longer, he caught her lips in a hungry kiss, then leapt to his feet, pulling her off the settee, into his arms and spun her about. She laughed into his shirt as he practically danced them around the room, until he finally set her down and crushed her to him again, holding her and swaying a bit, as if they really were dancing, their silence broken only by little sighs of contentment, endearments or promises. Among them were remarks about how after everything they'd been through, they deserved some uncomplicated, peaceful happiness. They eventually returned to the settee, where he pulled her atop his chest, pressing her over the space where she had long since been etched.

"Doctor?"

"Hmm?"

"Why now? I mean – you've tried to bring this up before, and we never talked about it. But you were pretty persistent tonight. So…is there something you're not telling me?"

He would return to this moment a lot later. At the time, it was nothing more than an innocent question posed with a teasing tone from the woman who had folded herself into him for the second time that night. Like this was where she was meant to be, and she would stay there with him in that exact spot until her curled limbs creaked with age and his back needed several pillows to support the two of them. At the time, he attributed the fleeting tightness in his chest and the vague feeling of unease to nothing more than ghosts of their past, reminders of all the secrets they had harbored and eventually spilled to one another.

"No," he assured her, resting his chin atop her head. "I just wanted us to have as long a future together as possible. I didn't want to look back on this time and know that we hadn't made the most of every moment we had with each other."

Clara hummed happily, sleepily. "Just checking."

In the end, no one could say that he'd lied to her.