AN ~ Because however she responds to this question, it's going to break our hearts. I know. I'm a horrible person. Five days to go! I am SO EXCITED!

Have We Done Manhattan Yet?

"Oh God," Clara grimaced, looking around at the cafe patrons and passing pedestrians who were not taking much effort to hide their stares at the slightly bewildered young woman and her far stranger companion.

"Hm?" the Doctor looked up from his milkshake, knowing that he had a bubbly yellow banana moustache, and smiling all the more widely for it.

"They probably think we're related," Clara groaned under her breath. "Ugh! They probably think you're my boyfriend!"

So did that bloke you governessed for, the Doctor almost said. Or well you did kiss me once. But he quickly decided against it, realising that after so many years alone in a box with his own thoughts, he had forgotten how non-wimey humans minds were. He did, however, delight in their myriad facial expressions. It was amazing how much these creatures could convey with a smile...or a glare. Much like the one Clara was giving him now actually. Innocently, the Doctor wiped away his moustache and restrained himself to using the straw, though he shot her back a disgruntled look. Clara gave a satisfied nod and settled back in the chair, jerking her book decidedly open and waiting for him to decide when to tell her what was going on – she was hardly going to beg.

"I'll have you know," a refined, feminine voice interrupted from behind the Doctor. "He's taken."

The man in the bow tie nearly jumped out of his skin. Banana milkshake sloshed off the table and he jumped back before he could get too much of it on himself. Clara was not so lucky, and yelped as a small splash decorated her front as she leapt out of her chair.

"S-sorry about-" the Doctor spun in all directions, unsure exactly who he was apologising to and more focused on finding the glass before it rolled away somewhere leaving a trail of sticky yellowness behind it.

Instead, his eyes settled on a pair of familiar red shoes. Platform heels actually. On familiar feet. The dress was different, but though he didn't like to admit it (to anyone but her) he knew those curves quite intimately. He knew when this woman was standing before him, even without the hair. Though he most certainly loved the hair.

"River," he gasped, trying not to look or sound too bewildered as he stared with mixed emotions at her long-suffering but amused smile. She held up the milkshake glass.

"Looking for this, Sweetie?"

"I- um. Hello. Yes." After a few flails, River decided the Doctor was trying to beckon her to join him. He took the glass, though he didn't seem to know what to do with it, and promptly left it on another couple's table. The couple were speechless, far too busy watching the strange proceedings than to care about a stray dish.

Unfortunately for them, and for most of the other observers, the three strangest strangers they had ever seen decided to take their business elsewhere; down a quiet street and into an equally quiet park, where they could talk.

Sat on a park bench, one woman either side of him, the Doctor wasn't sure what to say. Part of him felt like grabbing River and kissing her until she couldn't breathe: he was so sorry for what had happened, what he had and had not done, and he was so happy to see her again. Part of him wanted to crawl back into his box and never come out. Part of him wanted the Ponds again.

Raggedy Man...Goodbye.

The words flashed through his mind as if she was standing right next to him, saying them again. A chill ran through him. He had almost forgotten those words...just for a moment.

You be a good girl, and you look after him.

River. They were your parents.

It doesn't matter.

The blonde woman took out a small, battered book from her handbag. A dairy, by the looks of it. Clara frowned slightly as she studied it; it looked like the Tardis.

"So, where are we this time?" River asked, an edge to her voice to cut through whatever thoughts the Doctor was lost in. The man sighed, age and youth competing in his dark eyes as his thoughts returned to the present and, inflating them with cheer Clara guessed was false, asked:

"Have we done Manhattan yet?"