**Author's Note?** Author's notes won't be a regular occurrence, but when I find necessary, I will post one. So, just so you know, this chapter is in a Twelve/ Clara POV. Also, sorry for the wait.****
"Just this once, can we go somewhere there's not a decent chance I die?" Clara asked.
"There's always a chance of danger, Clara. As long as you're with me it's unavoidable.
Clara rolled her eyes and let herself into the TARDIS. The Doctor followed after her and put his hand on her shoulder. His eyes grew sad but he forced a smile.
"We're going to New York, Clara."
"I thought you said you'd never go to New York. Bad memories and stuff," Clara said.
"I've had a while to think about it, and I need closure. Closure with some friends I lost. I just needed to tell you this one will be a while. No one will notice you're gone, but you'll know. You'll age." he told her solemnly.
"If you want me to go, I will. New York will be fun! When are we going?" Clara asked hesitantly.
"1954!"
"New York in the fifties, what should I bring?"
The Doctor assured her that everything she may need was in the TARDIS. Clara leaned up against the console as the Doctor flew them to 1954. Once they arrived, the Doctor dashed over to the door, to block Clara from getting out.
"This mission, if you will, is going to be a bit tricky. You will refer to me as John when we're in public. I am your uncle."
"I can do that, doc—John. John. I can do that, John," Clara replied cheerfully.
"I think you look lovely, Clara, but you'll stick out like a sore thumb in New York in the fifties."
Clara smiled and looked down at her dress. She did suppose it wasn't terribly fifties-esque. The Doctor lead her to a giant walk in closet. Her eye caught on a bubble gum pink dress. She picked it up, but the doctor shook his head.
"Anything but that dress Clara. Anything," The doctor said softly.
Clara respected his wishes and didn't ask. It was usually best not to ask. Asking lead to them not speaking and him cursing softly to himself. He didn't curse to be mad at anyone else. He cursed because he was upset with himself.
She did end up finding a dress; it was navy blue. The doctor let her know it was cold out, considering it was February in New York City. She found a cream colored peacoat and met the Doctor at the door. He linked arms with Clara and they were on their way. They noticed immediately that there was red and pink papers hearts everywhere.
"Well, Doctor, looks like it is St. Valentine's Day!"
"Sure is, Clara, But we have bigger problems than hopeless love birds all over New York City."
They strolled casually around the city, waving to the people who passed them. The people here were friendly, but they kept to themselves. The walked for nearly an hour, but the Doctor stopped short right in front of a coffee shop.
"What is it Doctor?" Clara asked curiously.
The Doctor said nothing, just grabbed her hand and dragged her inside. He brought his mouth up to her ear and spoke.
"We need a job here. Don't ask why, I'll explain when it matters," he whispered.
The Doctor let go of her hand and popped outside quickly. He came back with a flyer advertising a job. He hoped it was really advertising two jobs. He walked up to the lady at the counter. He put down the flyer in front of her.
"We hear you are looking to hire. I hope that offer stands for two."
"Of course, we're always looking for more help. But if you don't mind, where are you two from?"
The doctor smiled and looked at Clara.
"I'm from Scotland, and she's from northern England."
The waitress nodded and brought them into a back room. They sat across from her and she asked for resumes. Clara panicked but he smoothly pulled them out of his jacket pocket and handed them to her.
"These look fantastic. I think I'll hire you right now, both of you!" she squeaked.
She told them to stay there while she told her boss to take flyers down. Clara stood up and put her hands on her hips, showing disappointment.
"Fake resumes, Doctor?" She whispered loudly.
"The information isn't all fake, she just saw what she wanted to," he replied.
It was the psychic paper, of course. The young lady came bounding through the door.
"We're already short-staff and someone just went home sick. How soon can you start?"
The Doctor looked to Clara and smirked.
"We can start right now!" Clara replied cheerfully.
"Well John, Clara, we don't have any uniforms for you, but here's an apron."
Clara took the apron and thanked her for the jobs.
"I never caught your name, what was it?"
"Jenny!" She called back to Clara.
Clara nodded and fashioned the apron around herself. Italic letters read "Moe's Diner and Café".
"Who's Moe?" Clara asked.
"The owner, my father. Not here much anymore though."
Clara nodded and they both went to start working. They worked until the diner closed, and when it did, they headed back to the TARDIS. They both sat by the console quietly, until Clara broke the silence.
"Are you ever going to be more specific with what we're doing? At least tell me who you're looking for?" Clara asked of the Doctor.
"We're looking for a married couple. The lady—a dear friend, practically family—she's got the reddest hair you've ever seen and a Scottish tongue. Rather feisty, and far taller than you. The man, well, he's got a bit of a prominent nose. English, and he's well nice."
Clara nodded, and said she'd be on the lookout.
"You probably won't meet them for a while," The Doctor told her.
Clara smiled at him. He deserved closure.
Clara and the Doctor went over two months living normally. Getting up, working in the diner, watching out for the Doctor's friends. Their lives were stagnant. Clara's need for the regular excitement with the Doctor grew. She was getting bored.
"Doctor, how much longer?"
"Any day now Clara," he replied. And he was right.
Clara stood at the counter with the Doctor one day when a woman, about Clara's age, walked through the door.
"Hello!" Clara greeted her, as she did every customer.
"You're not American," the lady said awkwardly.
"Neither are you, love," the Doctor retorted, holding her hand in his. And he was right. She was Scottish, as well as tall, and her hair was red. Was this her?
"She's married, John!" Clara had gotten used to calling the Doctor John in public. It was hard at first, but she had gotten used to it.
Noticing the bands on her finger, he retracted his hand.
"John Smith, and this is," he stopped, he wasn't used to referring to Clara as his niece. "My lovely niece, Clara."
"Amelia Williams, but I would prefer Amy."
The doctor had mentioned that name in passing, like just before he had regenerated. This must be her. Clara rolled up to her tippy-toes and whispered into the Doctor's ear.
"Is that her, Doctor, is that your old friend?" she spoke as softly as she could.
Clara stood flat again and the Doctor stared at her and nodded. The three talked for a bit, just small talk but Clara could see how the Doctor lit up when she spoke. The café grew silent, many left, and then the conversation between Amy, Clara, and John grew to a halt.
"I had a friend called John Smith, but who knows next time I'll see him," Amy mention
The doctor darted his eyes to Clara. They couldn't blow their cover just yet. "Must be a common name, then."
Amy looked down at her watch and realized how long she'd been.
"Shoot, I have to go. Can I get a black coffee to go?"
Clara poured the coffee and Amy jogged out the door. Noticing they had worked fifteen minutes past their shift, they left. Once in the TARDIS, the Doctor grabbed hold of Clara's hands and spun her around.
"We've found her, Clara, we've found her!
