Relict

by LizzeXX

12/OC -Time Lady- The Doctor and his Bonded, the Professor, have escaped Tenzalore with their lives, new regeneration cycles, and their unborn child surviving their 'Fall.' But with the Promised Land being sought and another woman vying for the Doctor's attention in the Nethersphere, what will become of the Time Lords? What of their child? Or…children? Ninth in the Academic Series.

4. Listen

Listen

The Professor was sitting in the door of the TARDIS, her legs dangling off the side of the TARDIS as they floated above the earth, her hands resting on her stomach with a frown of concentration on her face.

"What are you doing?" the Doctor asked as he moved to sit beside her, turned slightly so that one leg was curled up, his foot just behind her back while the other dangled out, facing her.

She glanced over at him for that, smiling at how he was focused on her, he really had missed her on Christmas. She reached over and took his hand, placing it on her stomach, "I'm trying to feel the baby."

She should have been able to feel it by now, feel it move, it had been another month, she was at 4 now and she'd read that she might be able to feel it around this mark…but there was nothing, no kicks, no digs into her ribs, nothing yet.

"Have you?" his eyebrows rose, his hand pressing more firmly onto her stomach as though he might be able to feel it too.

"No," she sighed, letting go of his hand, turning it to lace their fingers together as she looked out at the Earth.

"Why did you want to check here?" he eyed her, "You could have felt it while you were on the armchair or…"

"I feel like I'm burning up," she admitted, "I'm like a walking furnace and the console room was too warm," she gestured around, "It's cooler here."

"I could turn down the heating," he moved as though about to do just that but she tugged him to stay there.

"It's fine, YOU get colder than me," she shrugged, "I'd rather you warm than cold."

"It's really fine," he insisted, "I can just…and I am not colder than normal."

"Your hands are like little ice patches with these spindly icicles poking me at night," she laughed.

"Are my hands really that cold?" he looked down at them, a deep frown on his face, as though he hadn't realized and, had he, he would have worn mittens to bed to help.

"I actually like it," she reached out to take the hand he was examining, lacing those fingers too, "Means I can warm them up. And I DO have extra heat to spare."

He smiled at that, lifting their hands to kiss her fingertips.

"So now you know why I'M here, what about you?" she shifted, bringing a leg up to rest on the floor, letting one of her legs dangle out as well, "What brings you all the way to the TARDIS door?"

"It's not important," he shrugged.

She gave him a look, "Over 2000 years, Theta and you've never found something interesting that wasn't important. What is it?"

He let out a long breath but couldn't help but smile at that, "I had a nightmare last night."

"You did?" she frowned, "Why didn't you wake me?"

"Two reasons," he held up their joined hands, lifting only one finger on each, "The first is…you sleep like the dead," he told her, "I mean, really, the TARDIS could be sitting exploding and I'm pretty sure you'd sleep through it," she rolled her eyes at that, "And the second," his expression grew softer, "You're my wife, my Bonded, and you're pregnant, I want you to rest up as much as you can and not bother you…"

"It wouldn't be a bother," she cut in.

"I know, I know," he nodded, "It wasn't a terrible nightmare," he defended, "I've had it loads of times before and…"

"The one where you went to get up and someone grabbed your ankle?" she guessed.

He seemed about to try and snap his fingers to point at her only to realize he was still holding her hands and nodded, "That's the one."

She frowned at that. It was an…odd nightmare, one that he hadn't actually claimed to be a nightmare really. She knew why he dreamt it, what it was based on, as did he. But she also knew that it was an odd sort of nightmare that hadn't started till after they'd graduated from the Academy, it wasn't a childhood dream, but one from his adulthood.

"And why are you finding it interesting now?" she asked.

"Listen," he leaned in to whisper that word.

She gave him a look, waiting for him to continue, but he was silent, "I'm listening."

"No, no, I mean…question," he squeezed her hands, "Why do we talk out loud when we know we're alone?"

"Because you're completely mad."

"Ha ha Kata," he rolled his eyes, squeezing her hands again, "Being serious now."

She shrugged, "Because talking out loud helps us feel like it makes more sense, helps us work it out with the help of hearing our problem instead of thinking about it. We can pretend that someone's listening and…"

"And what if someone IS," he began, "What if we talk out loud even when we're alone, because we know we're NOT alone."

She gave a look around, "Seems like we ARE alone."

"No, no, because you see…evolution perfects survival skills. There are perfect hunters. There is perfect defense. Question…why is there no such thing as perfect hiding?"

"Hiding IS a defense though," the Professor argued, "Any method of action that helps prevent an offense from being successful is a defense."

"No, no, the answer is…how would you know?" he started to grin, "Logically, if evolution were to perfect a creature whose primary skill were to hide from view, how could you know it existed? It could be with us every second and we would never know. How would you detect it, even sense it, except in those moments when, for no clear reason you choose to speak aloud? What would such a creature want? What would it do? Well?" he wiggled her hands, grinning madly, "What would you do?"

"I would recommend you get some sleep," she frowned at him, "I'm starting to think you really HAVE gone mad. How long ago was it, this nightmare Theta? It wasn't just last night was it? How long ago? How long have you gone without sleep? I'd guess a week if you're talking like this…"

"I'm perfectly fine, Kata," he reassured her, "Come…" he helped her up and led her up to the chalkboard, pointing at where 'Listen' was scrawled across it, "See?!"

"You wrote 'listen' on the chalkboard," she stated, giving him a look.

"No," he smiled, "You see…I didn't."

And, before she could even speak another word to ask him to go to sleep, because it was very much HIS handwriting there and he could be quite forgetful when he hadn't gotten enough rest, he was off, running to the console, piloting them away.

~8~

The Doctor and Professor looked over as they heard a thump to see the door to Clara's bedroom opening, hitting the side of the TARDIS, barely allowing enough room for Clara to stick her head in at them.

"You just have to squeeze through," the Doctor called as he leaned against Clara's vanity, the Professor sitting on the chair before it with…

"Is that…a carrot?" Clara eyed the woman as she pushed her way into her room, eyeing the thing in the woman's hand.

"Yes," the Professor nodded.

"Covered in mayonnaise?"

"Yes. Yes it is."

Clara grimaced at that, "Lovely."

"What's wrong with it?" the Professor frowned.

"Nothing," Clara gave her a small smile, "Just don't ask me to take a taste."

"Not a problem," the Doctor reassured her, "She's reached the stage where her food is HER food."

"Oi!" the Professor poked him in the side with the tip of the carrot, "Are you calling me greedy?"

"No," he chuckled, holding his hands up in surrender till her mock-glare faded and she took another bite of the carrot, "Why do you have three mirrors?" he asked Clara, nodding his head over at the vanity mirror, three of them with two set in a small turn, "Why don't you just turn your head?"

"What are you two doing in here?" Clara asked, setting the teacup she'd had in her hand on the side of her vanity, "I wasn't expecting you for a few more days…" she'd noticed that they almost came like clockwork now, or they had the last two times. It seemed like they were back to how they'd been before, every Wednesday, but not EVERY Wednesday. It was like they always popped up ON a Wednesday, whether it was a week later or a month or something like that, but always Wednesday. It was Sunday.

"Well when you spoke to us before you said you had a date," the Professor shrugged.

"We thought we'd better hide in the bedroom in case you brought him home," the Doctor agreed.

"Which is also why we set down in the bedroom, because he should NOT be anywhere near there so early in the relationship missy," she pointed at Clara, making the woman roll her eyes but crack more of a smile.

"Bit early, aren't you?" the Doctor glanced at the clock in the room, "Did it all go wrong, or is this good by your standards?"

Clara gave him an unamused look, "It was a disaster and I am extremely upset about it, since you didn't ask."

"We thought asking would make you more upset to recount," the Professor apologized.

It was how she was, she hated when most people would try and poke and prod at her to talk about something that she found upsetting. She didn't like to talk till she was ready to do it, something the Doctor understood. He waited till she came to him, but he always made sure she knew that he knew she was upset and that he was there for her. She didn't like having to talk about things before she was ready and, if something bad happened, she didn't always like to go on about it right after it happened, it was too fresh.

"We need you, anyway," the Doctor added, "For a thing."

"I can't," Clara shook her head at that.

"Oh, of course you can," the Doctor gestured at the TARDIS, "Come on, you're free. More than usually free, in fact."

"No, it's just possible that I might get a phone call."

"From the date guy? It's too late. You've taken your makeup off," he added.

"No she hasn't," the Professor gave him a look.

"I'm still wearing my makeup," Clara agreed.

"Oh, right," he shrugged, not particularly caring that he'd not noticed, he didn't really notice other women or their makeups, he really only had eyes for the Professor and she didn't really care for all that, he loved that about her. He knew her reasoning for it wasn't quite as lovely though, makeup reminded her of putting on a mask, of hiding your real face and she'd had enough of that during the war, being nothing but a shell and a mask and she didn't want to do anything that made her seem less real and less like herself, "Well, you probably just missed a bit. Come on, come on, come on, come on," he tried to gesture her to the TARDIS again, moving to open the doors.

The Professor rolled her eyes and got up, reaching over to snag the sonic out of the Doctor's pocket, "Can I have your mobile, Clara?" Clara tossed it to her and she soniced it, "There, if anyone calls your house it'll come to your mobile too. You won't miss any calls."

"Thanks," Clara smiled, turning to follow the Professor into the TARDIS, maybe this was just what she needed, an adventure to get her mind off of her rather abysmal date (that she was pretty sure was half her fault looking back on it), "Right," she sighed, moving up to the console after the Time Lords, "So what's happened?"

"The Doctor's finally had a breakdown," the Professor deadpanned.

"No," the Doctor pointed at her, before spinning and moving his pointing finger at Clara, "You know sometimes when you talk to yourself? What if you're not?"

"Not what?" Clara blinked.

"Talking to yourself," the Professor sighed moving over to the armchair to sit down, "The Doctor thinks that you're actually talking to someone else."

"What?" Clara nearly laughed at that.

"Proposition," the Doctor called, "What if no one is ever really alone? What if every single living being has a companion, a silent passenger, a shadow? What if the prickle on the back of your neck is the breath of something close behind you?"

Clara gave him a look, "Have you been sleeping, Doctor?"

"Why does everyone assume it's that?" he huffed.

"I said the same thing," the Professor called when Clara looked a bit confused by his words.

Clara rolled her eyes and poked him in the face, just under his eye, "You've got bags darker than my mascara when it runs," she told him.

"Well then what do you call THIS?" he turned and led her to the chalkboard, pointing at the 'listen' written on it.

"It looks like your handwriting," Clara told him, glancing at the Professor when she heard the woman mumble something about how she'd said that too.

"Well, I couldn't have written it and forgotten, could I?" he defended, looking between the two women.

Clara scoffed at that, "Have you met you?"

"Oh, but it's not just that Clara," the Professor sighed, pushing herself up to join them, "He's also gone through this," she gestured at a small table to the side covered in books, all open to various pages.

"What's all that then?"

"Research," the Professor told her, "I haven't seen him actually research like this since his TARDIS exam…and he failed that."

"Bring that up," the Doctor huffed under his breath, before moving to join them, "It's not just research," he picked up a book, "It's dreams. Accounts of dreams, by different people, all through history. You see, I have a theory…I think everybody, at some point in their lives, has the exact same nightmare. You wake up, or you think you do, and there's someone in the dark, someone close, or you think there might be. So you sit up, you turn and put your feet on the floor, and turn on the light and the room looks different at night. It ticks and creaks and breathes. And you tell yourself there's nobody there, nobody watching, nobody listening, nobody there at all. And you very nearly believe it. You really, really try and then…" he quickly made a grabbing motion with his hand, making Clara jump, "Something grabs your ankle."

"Apparently there are accounts of that dream throughout human history," the Professor added, sounding almost exasperated, which was odd to Clara, usually the Professor was very keen to investigate the Doctor's hunches no matter what they were.

"Time and time again!" the Doctor nodded, "The same dream. Now, there is a very obvious question I'm about to ask you. Do you know what it is?"

"Have you had that dream?" Clara spoke.

"Exactly."

"No," she sighed, "That was me asking you," she glanced between them, "Have you had that dream? Either of you?"

"I asked first," the Doctor tried to delay.

"No, I did."

"You really didn't."

"Yes he has," the Professor answered, "Clara?"

"Yeah, probably," Clara shrugged, "Yes. But everyone dreams about something under the bed."

"Why?" the Doctor asked.

"That would be like asking why everyone has a fear of the dark," the Professor sighed, "Or why nearly every continent on Earth has pyramids built the same way. Or why every culture has some sort of dragon myth even when they've never existed. Everyone, every species, fears what it can't see. And you can't see under the bed when you're sitting above it."

"Well then we should find out then," the Doctor determined, "Come on," he took Clara's hand and led her over to the console, to a section with slots cut across it, a sort of pink lump with little squiggles in it, almost like an oversized brain, visible through it…something which the Doctor then gently forced Clara's fingers into, "Just hold on tight. If anything bites, let it."

"What is it?" Clara glanced at the Professor.

"It's just the TARDIS telepathic interface," the Professor reassured her, "It's just…more manual now than it was before. You're in mental contact with the TARDIS."

"So don't think anything rude," the Doctor pointed a warning finger at Clara.

"Why not?" Clara frowned.

"It might end up on all of the screens," the Doctor brought the monitor over to the Professor to help him keep track, "The TARDIS is extrapolating your entire timeline, from the moment of your birth, to the moment of your death…"

"Which I do not need a preview of."

"I'm turning off the safeguards and navigation," he ignored her, "Slaving the TARDIS to you. Focus on the dream. Focus on the details. Picture them, feel them…"

"Why?" Clara hesitated to do so.

"The TARDIS will track on your subconscious," the Professor explained, leaving the Doctor to get to setting those commands, "And extract the relevant information. It's going to try and home in on the moment in your timeline when you first had that dream."

"And then, we'll see," the Doctor grinned.

"What will we see?" Clara shook her head, barely keeping up.

"What's under your bed," he pulled a lever sending the TARDIS off, "Ok," he looked at Clara, pointing at her, "Now," he gave her a pointed look and Clara sighed but closed her eyes, focusing on the dream, focusing on when she'd had it, on what had happened around it, "Don't get distracted. Remember, you are flying a time machine…

She winced as her mobile went off and she couldn't help but think of Danny Pink, a teacher at the school, that she'd gone to get a drink with…her date…her rather badly-ended date.

"You can't answer it just yet, Clara," the Professor warned her, "Sorry. You can call them back the second you're done but for now you have to ignore it."

The Doctor pulled another lever, landing them with a thump that jolted Clara to looking up, "Ok," he smiled at them, "That's good. That worked. We're here."

"Sorry, I think I got distracted," Clara warned but the Doctor was already leading the Professor to the doors.

"No, no, no, no, no," he waved her off, "The date's fine. Come on."

"Come on where?" Clara called, hurrying after them, having had to tug her hands rather hard to free them.

"Your childhood," the Doctor stepped through the doors with the Professor and out into a dark night, a large building beside them with a majority of the lights off save a few.

"The West Country Children's Home," the Professor frowned up at it, "Gloucester."

"By the ozone level and the drains, mid-nineties," the Doctor agreed, "You must have been here when you had the dream."

"I don't think so," the Professor shook her head at it.

"Never been to Gloucester in my life, and I've never lived in a children's home," Clara agreed, crossing her arms.

"You've probably just forgotten," the Doctor shrugged, "Have you seen the size of human brains? They're hilarious. Little-you must be in here somewhere, with your little brain."

"I think you've got that reversed," the Professor told him, "We looked in on Clara's life, remember?" she turned to him, "When we were trying to figure out how she could exist. We tracked her life. We saw her with her mum and dad, from infancy to when we met her. She was never in this home."

"Really?" the Doctor frowned.

The Professor let out a gentle breath, seeing that he genuinely couldn't seem to remember that and took his hand, "Really," she whispered.

Centuries on Trenzalore, she had to remind herself. It was so…easy, to forget that he'd been apart from her that long. It had been instants for her, and he didn't act much differently than he did before…if he was a bit more hovering of her, but still…that was to be expected with pregnancy wasn't it? For HIM though, it had been centuries and centuries without her or Clara, and she knew he held more tightly to the memories of her than others. They'd really only peeked in here and there with Clara, and it was essentially just one trip. She couldn't expect him to remember that after so long.

And then there was the fact that Clara still likely had clones running about all over the place, for all they knew one of them could be in there. (Were there still clones? If the Doctor never died on Trenzalore, would his time tunnel still be there? They didn't want to find out.)

"Even if I WAS in there, wouldn't it be bad if I meet myself?" Clara glanced at them.

"It is potentially catastrophic," the Doctor agreed.

Clara gave him a look, "So why did you bring me out here?"

"He's sleep deprived," the Professor reminded her, "He doesn't think well when he's tired."

The Doctor sighed and looked back at Clara, "Probably best for you to wait in the TARDIS," he admitted.

"But I…"

"See you in a minute," he called, already walking towards the main doors of the home with the Professor, "TARDIS!"

"But if I had been distracted," Clara shouted after them, "What would have happened?"

"We would probably have ended up in the wrong place," the Doctor waved back at her, "But I don't think we have, because the time zone's right."

The Professor shook her head at that, "Don't worry Clara, we won't be long."

The Doctor held the door open for the Professor to enter the home, pulling the sonic out to get a trace of what the TARDIS had homed in on, to lead them to the bed in question and the person about to have the dream. He took her hand and led her down the hall, just past a balding security man who was watching something on the telly.

"How did you get in?" the man spun around, catching sight of them in a reflection and turning to look at them.

"Your door must be faulty," the Doctor shrugged, pulling the psychic paper out of his pocket to hold it up to the man.

"An inspection?" the man read, "It's two in the morning!"

"When better?"

"When there's something to inspect," the Professor offered as an answer.

She wasn't trying to put him down or act like she didn't think his hunch was viable, it was just…she knew what he was like when he got like this, when he had such little sleep. He grew very focused on something, had to see it through, had to prove he was right or it would drive him mad. He'd barely listen to anyone, hardly slow down, and grew a bit manic trying to find out if what he thought about something was indeed correct. Often, afterwards, when he'd slept and calmed down he could be more rationally spoken to, but like this he'd pretty much ignore even HER in his quest, so really…the only thing she could do was go along with it till it had run its course.

It didn't happen often, she could count on one hand how many times it happened around her, but when it did it was always worrying, because the things that triggered it were often very deeply repressed and meaningful for him, hard for him to deal with till it all just blew up like now.

She just…couldn't understand why this particular dream had sparked such a reaction. As he'd said he'd had it many times before so why now?

"Do you always work here nights?" the Doctor eyed the security man.

"Most nights, yes," he nodded.

"Do you ever end up talking to yourself?"

"All the time. It's this place. You can't help it."

"What about your coffee?" the Doctor nodded over at a cup sitting on a table.

"My coffee?" the man glanced at it as well.

"Sometimes, do you put it down, and look round, and it's not there?"

The man frowned but shrugged, "Everybody does that."

"It's called forgetfulness," the Professor reminded him, "It's like when humans lose their car keys and realize they're in their hands. Or when they misplace their glasses and find them on top of their head. You said it to Clara, humans have small brains, they can't remember everything."

"Yes, ok," he nodded, but pointed at the telly as it switched off, "Who turned your telly off?!"

"It does that," the man didn't seem perturbed, "It just goes off," he turned to look at the television, giving the Doctor a chance to pull the Professor off.

"It's faulty wiring," the Professor told him, "Systems glitch, all the time. If the wind is too strong and shakes the powerlines it can make the telly turn off. If a circuit breaker is old it can slip and turn them off. If the television itself is old it might just flicker off on its own. Doctor," she tugged him to a stop, "Please…" she looked at him, genuinely concerned, "You're going to make yourself ill going frantic over this. It's just a dream driven from natural, psychological fears that everyone has, every species. There is nothing special about this dream."

"But there IS," he argued, "There's something more here, I just…" he looked at the sonic, flicking it on, picking up the trace, "Have to find it. Come on!" he turned and started down the hall once more, the Professor sighing but going with him.

~8~

"This way!" the Doctor shouted as he and the Professor hurried down a hall, towards a room at the end where they could just about hear Clara speaking.

"…not funny this, you know!"

They moved faster when they heard a slight tremor of fear in her voice, quickly reaching the room and turning the light on. Clara and a small black boy were standing to the side of the room, Clara in front of the boy and staring at something on the bed. Whatever it was that was there was sitting on it, a thick, red, crocheted blanket draped over it to hide it.

Clara looked over at them when the lights came on to see the Professor had sat down on a chair by a small desk, a book in her hand as the Doctor stood behind her, his hands on her shoulders but his eyes, for once were not on his wife, but on the thing sitting on the bed.

"Where is he?" the Doctor asked.

"Doctor?" Clara frowned, not sure what he was talking about or who he was asking about as he was clearly looking at someone.

"Wally," the Doctor answered, "Can't seem to find him," he nodded down at the Professor.

The woman blinked and looked up at her husband, "It's not a Where's Wally book," she told him, holding it up for him to see it was, indeed, not a book like that.

"Isn't he supposed to be in every book though?" the Doctor countered, though he still didn't look away from the thing on the bed.

"No," the little boy replied.

"Really?" the Doctor scoffed, "Well, that's a few years of my life I'll be needing back."

"You…" the Professor looked at the little boy, setting the book aside, "What's your name then?"

"Rupert," Clara told them.

"Are you scared Rupert?" the Professor leaned forward on the chair slightly, "Over on the bed," she wasn't going to say whatever it was, she knew what it was, she could hear its breathing and what it sounded like, she wasn't going to call it a thing either, especially when that wasn't what it was, "Does it scare you?"

"Yes," Rupert swallowed hard.

"Good," the Professor nodded.

"Why's that good?" Clara half-hissed at her, squeezing Rupert's shoulders as she tried to comfort the boy.

The Professor looked up at the Doctor, half expecting him to say something about it, but he was still just staring at the thing on the bed, frowning, tense, as though he expected it to attack them. Well, she knew he was readying himself in case it attacked HER, he really was quite dismissive of humans wasn't he? She sighed but turned back to Rupert, getting off the seat and taking a moment to revel in the fact that she could still get up without needing extra effort, and headed over to Rupert, crouching down before him and taking his hands, "Because being scared is a superpower."

"No it's not," Rupert shook his head.

"It is," she stressed, "It makes you faster and stronger. See…your heart starts beating hard, which means there's more blood and oxygen heading to your brain, makes you more clever," granted, not quite as clever as if he had the cerebral fluid of a Time Lord, "And that sends pulses to your body that let you run faster and fight harder and jump higher, last longer. You're on edge, so you're on alert, you can hear things you didn't before, your gaze is sharper, your sense of smell stronger. Trust me," she squeezed his hands, "Being scared…it makes you more aware and that makes you stronger and more clever. Scared…" she took a breath, thinking back to all the times, the many, MANY times she had been terrified, "Scared keeps you fast and it keeps you alive in the face of danger."

"And there is danger in this room," the Doctor nodded, straightening, though, with the Professor's back to him, he couldn't see her roll her eyes at that which made Clara frown, "And guess what? It's you," he stepped past the chair to look at Rupert, "Do you feel it? Do you think he feels it?" he nodded at the bed, "Do you think he's scared? Nah. Loser. Turn your back on him."

"What?" Rupert gasped.

"Yeah, turn your back on him," the Doctor nodded, stepping closer to help the Professor up, "Come on. You too, Clara," he led the Professor over to the window, looking out of it, "Clara, your back, now."

"Professor?" Clara hesitated to move.

"Might as well," the Professor sighed, knowing there was nothing to say that would change the Doctor's mind about this course of action, "Rupert, you too," she glanced to the side as Clara led Rupert to turn.

"Turn your back," the Doctor agreed as Clara moved over to them, looking out the window with them, "Do it now, turn your back. Lovely view out this window."

"Yeah," Clara rolled her eyes, "Come and see all the dark."

"The deep and lovely dark," the Doctor nodded.

The Professor could agree with that at least, "We'd never see the stars without it," she murmured, thinking about how she loved to look out the TARDIS doors at the stars when they drifted in space.

"Now, there's one possibility…" the Doctor began, his voice growing quieter.

"Two," the Professor cut in, "Possibility one, it's just one of his friends standing there," she looked at the window to see that the thing on the bed had stood up and gotten off to stand at the foot of the bed, "And he's playing a joke on Rupert."

"Possibility two, it isn't," the Doctor continued.

The Professor nearly rolled her eyes at that and, had it not been for the fact that the Doctor would see it in the reflection of the window, she would have. She was actually firmly of the belief that it really was just one of the other boys playing a mean joke on Rupert. It wouldn't take much and it wasn't like the Doctor had scanned it to see.

THAT was another thing that made her feel like this really was the lack of sleep getting to the Doctor. Because he always knew, somewhere inside his head, that he was making a big thing out of nothing and that what he thought it was wasn't really like it at all. Right now, he hadn't scanned the thing. He'd tell himself it was because it could have made the thing attack, flashing something in its face like that. But she knew, somewhere in the back of his mind it was because he knew if he scanned it, it wouldn't be the interesting danger he thought it was.

She could hear it, the breathing, the pitch, the sound of it. It was human and it was a child. It probably would have torn the blanket off and shouted 'boo!' at Rupert had it not been for Clara. Now that adults, more than one, were in the picture, the child would be afraid it would get caught and be in trouble. It was best to stay silent and let them think him a monster or creature than to reveal it was just an ordinary boy. It was why she was going along with it and not ripping the blanket off it to show them herself. The boy didn't want to get caught and she knew how well that felt from the Academy with the Doctor as her friend. She could let this have that, Rupert learned a lesson in pushing through the fear, and the boy would likely not dare try this again because he'd nearly gotten very caught last time.

She doubted there was a child on earth with the Doctor's streak of nearly getting caught and then trying again.

"So, plan?" Clara's voice cut through her thoughts, "Plans are good."

The Professor opened her mouth to offer one when the Doctor snapped his fingers and pointed back towards the bed without looking at it, "You on the bed, I'm talking to you now. Go in peace. We won't look. Just go. If all you want to do is stay hidden, it's ok. Just leave."

"Is it gone?" Clara whispered, her eyes up, listening more than actually looking at anything but not hearing anything.

"Do you see its reflection right there?" the Professor pointed at the window where the reflection of the blanket was nearly behind them, "It's right behind us."

"Don't look round," the Doctor warned, "Not yet."

"I can't hear anything," Rupert commented, unable to see the window as he was looking at the backs of Clara and the Professor.

"Don't look round," the Doctor repeated, reaching out to grab Rupert's shoulder when he tried to turn around, "Look away! Look away now! Don't look at it! Don't look round. Don't look round. Don't look at the reflection…"

"What is it?" Rupert whispered, the Time Lords seeing the thing start to pull the blanket off of itself.

"Imagine a thing that must never be seen. What would it do if you saw it?"

"I don't know."

"Neither do I. Close your eyes!" he added quickly, seeing the blanket starting to fall and snapping his eyes shut.

"What?"

"Close your eyes. You too, Clara," the Doctor called, though the Professor could see Clara had already closed her eyes, "Give it what it wants. Prove to it that you're not going to look at it. Make a promise. A promise you're never going to look at it."

The Professor looked at the reflection a moment, before shaking her head and closing her eyes out of humoring the Doctor more than danger.

She'd been right.

Rupert pressed his eyes closed together, whispering, "I promise never to look."

"The breath on the back of your neck, like your hair's standing on end," the Doctor whispered, "That means, don't look round."

"Or it could mean there's a chill coming from outside," the Professor deadpanned.

Clara jumped when the sound of the door slamming shut sounded, "Gone?"

"Gone," the Professor agreed, already with her eyes open and turned to look at the room.

"He took my bedspread," Rupert frowned, seeing the red blanket was gone.

"Oh, the human race," the Doctor rolled his eyes, "You're never happy, are you?"

"Am I safe now?" Rupert looked up at them as the Doctor and Clara began to look around the room, the Professor moving to sit back down with the book she'd had before.

"Nobody's safe," the Doctor murmured, picking up a small orange robot and fiddling with it, "Especially not at night in the dark. Anything can get you. And all the way up here, you're up here all alone…" he winced suddenly as Clara slapped him in the back of the head, "What was that for?"

"Well, now we've settled who'll be telling the bedtime stories," the Professor mumbled, putting a hand on her stomach, trying to feel the baby move again, glancing up at the Doctor as he frowned at her, "Not you."

"Leave this to me," Clara shook her head at the Doctor and turned to a small box of little plastic soldiers she'd spotted on the floor, "These yours?" she picked them up.

"They're the home's," Rupert shook his head.

"They're yours now."

"People don't need to be lied to," the Doctor muttered to Clara as she began to pull the soldiers out of the box.

"People don't need to be scared by a big gray-haired stick insect, but here you are," she shot back, making the Professor laugh.

"Oi!" the Doctor frowned at her, moving over to the Professor's side, and putting his hands back on her shoulders.

"Don't worry," the Professor patted his hand, "You're MY big, gray-haired stick insect of a husband."

He smiled at that and lightly squeezed and rubbed with his hands, giving her a bit of a neck massage as they watched Clara work.

"Rupert, see what I'm doing?" Clara began, moving onto her knees and placing the little soldiers around the edge of Rupert's bed, on the floor, making a sort of perimeter, "This is your army."

"Plastic army," the Doctor muttered, "Ow!" he flinched when the Professor pinched his hand, making him pull away and rub it.

She rolled her eyes and took his hand back, pressing a kiss on the back of it, "Better?"

"Thank you wife," he nodded, resuming his massage of her neck.

Clara shook her head at them, they were so old-people-flirting now, but she turned back to Rupert who was sitting on his bed now, "They're going to guard under your bed. You see this one?" she held up a small one that seemed a bit more worn than the others, parts of it snapped off, like its weapon, "This is the boss one, the colonel. He's going to keep a special eye out."

"It's broken," Rupert frowned.

"Well," Clara leaned forward, at the foot of the bed, to rest her crossed arms and chin on the edge of the frame, "Want to know a secret?" Rupert nodded, "The broken ones are always the strongest," she smiled when she heard the Doctor's movements stop, when she heard the Professor let out a breath at that, both of them knowing she was talking about the Professor, "Because…they've got something special. They're SO strong that, even being broken, they don't fall apart. They're held together by stronger stuff than others. The broken ones…are the ones that fight even harder to keep people safe…so that THEY don't end up broken too."

"Clara…" the Professor breathed, smiling at Clara when she looked back at her, giving the Time Lady a smile and a nod, telling her that she fully believed everything she'd said.

"But how can that one fight harder when it doesn't even have a gun," Rupert argued, pulling Clara's attention back to him.

"That's why he's the boss!" Clara cheered, holding the little toy up, "A soldier so brave, so clever, and so strong that she doesn't need to use a gun even if she has one hidden on her…"

"That's a BOY soldier."

Clara blinked, just realizing that she'd started to call the male soldier a she, "Well, soldiers can be boys or girls."

"That one's a boy though," Rupert insisted.

"Ok," Clara nodded, "Then THIS one, he can keep the whole world safe. What shall we call him?"

"Dan," the boy smiled.

Clara's breath caught in her, thinking about this boy, Rupert Pink, and now he wanted to be called Dan? Like…Danny Pink?

"Sorry?" she swallowed hard.

"Dan, the soldier man," Rupert nodded, reaching out to take the soldier, "That's what I call him."

"Good," Clara murmured, "Good name."

"Yeah," Rupert smiled, "Would you read me a story? It'll help me get to sleep."

"Sure," Clara shook herself out of her shock and moved to stand up, about to turn to the Professor for the book she was holding, but the Doctor had already walked past her and towards Rupert.

"Once upon a time…" the Doctor began, touching Rupert's forehead and causing the boy to fall back onto the bed, dead asleep, "The end," he looked over at them, "Dad skills."

The Professor sighed and patted her stomach, "Yes, definitely NOT you in charge of the bedtime stories."

~8~

"So…" Clara began as she followed the Time Lords up to the console, "Is it possible we've just saved that kid from another kid in a bedspread?"

"It's entirely possible, yes," the Professor nodded, that was EXACTLY what she thought it was, most likely exactly what it really WAS too.

"The bigger question is," the Doctor spun around to her, "Why did we end up with him, and not you?" he eyed Clara closely for that.

Clara shrugged, "I got distracted."

"But why that particular boy?" the Doctor shook his head, "You don't have any."

"You had better not have any yet," the Professor pointed at Clara.

"If that was the mid-90s, how would it be my kid?" Clara gave her a look, "And no, I don't have children yet."

"Good," the Professor nodded, "You're too young to be a mother."

"I'd reckon I'm the earth equivalent to your age," Clara challenged.

But the Doctor scoffed at that, "Not even close."

The Professor hummed, thinking of why else they might have been there, "You don't have any kind of connection with that boy, do you?" the Professor inquired, moving around the console.

"No!" Clara said quickly, a bit too quickly but, for once, it seemed like the Professor hadn't noticed as she had reached out for a cookies that was sitting on a plate on the console and was munching on them. She didn't know what it was about the Professor and this pregnancy, but the fact that she was so distracted by food both made Clara chuckle silently and very grateful that she hadn't noticed that because she doubted that the Doctor actually had noticed either, "No, no, no. Of course not. Why do you ask?"

"The TARDIS was slaved to your timeline," the Professor mumbled through a mouthful, swallowing hard as the Doctor crouched down to examine one of the panels, "Theoretically, there should have been some connection is all."

Clara nodded at that, her mind already racing about what sort of 'connection' it could have been, "Will er, will he remember any of that?"

"Scrambled his memory," the Doctor shook his head at that, "Gave him a big old dream about being Dan the soldier man."

"Dan the Soldier Man?" the Professor scoffed, "That's a funny name."

"Well I couldn't call him 'the Professor," the Doctor argued, "That title's already taken and if he even tried to be half the Amazon you are he'd either end up very confused or with quite a few compensation issues to sort through."

The Professor shook her head at that.

"You…gave him the idea of Dan the Soldier Man because you were thinking of Gran?" Clara asked weakly, feeling tears building in her eyes at that.

"Well, to be fair, when am I NOT thinking of my wife?" the Doctor shrugged, moving to the console, not noticing how Clara turned away at that.

Clara closed her eyes, trying not to cry as she realized what had happened. Even though the boy, Rupert, had said he wanted to be a soldier one day, she doubted he actually WOULD. He was so young and she just couldn't think of a boy so innocent really wanting to get into war like that. Comparing him to Danny Pink, he really was more a maths teacher than a soldier and she just…she didn't want that to be his life, she didn't want him to become a soldier like that, to see how much it would affect him even now that a little joke that she made could make him upset enough to blow their date.

She'd hoped he would grow out of it, but now, to hear that the Doctor had basically reaffirmed that desire, made it more prominent…Rupert, sweet little Rupert, would grow up to become a soldier…and it would hurt him. And the worst part was that the Doctor didn't even realize.

Oh she knew he didn't mean for it to happen, but she also knew that if she brought it up to him, he'd defend himself and say that Rupert would make his own choices, it had nothing to do with HIM making up a dream about the boy being a soldier. Dreams faded, he would say, despite the fact he was apparently all about this trip because everyone was having the same recurring dream at one point and remembered it. And she knew that the Doctor wouldn't think of the horrors that Rupert would see if he did become a soldier, it was a little boy thing. Little boys played with soldier dolls and soldier figures all the time, they HAD to dream about them as well at some point, he'd just…made the dream bigger.

And she knew that his intentions were probably just as he'd implied, he wanted to help the boy be braver and stronger, like a soldier, without becoming a soldier-soldier. He seemed to have altered how he viewed real soldiers and compared them to the Professor. SHE was the real soldier, she was the real fighter, she was the one who really made a difference…everyone else would never live up to her. Oh she fully doubted that anyone in the Universe could live up to the things the Professor had done…and neither the Professor nor the Doctor would want them to.

If he'd made that dream about Rupert becoming a fighter like the Professor…he'd never achieve it, it was an impossible dream, and it would be a torture that neither of them would want for the boy. And it would be a disappointment to him. She knew the Doctor had just wanted to give the boy more honorable aspirations, a good life and help him make good, moral choices. Be a soldier, defend people, protect people, help them, be strong and courageous and honorable…THAT was what she knew he had tried to give the boy dreams of being.

But she knew that it would go wrong or got too far into Rupert's subconscious and he'd become a soldier too, all because of that dream, because her words about the Professor had likely triggered the Doctor to think of her when he gave that dream to Rupert.

No, she shook her head, not ALL because of the dream, Rupert HAD mentioned a desire to be a soldier beforehand. The dream would just cement it more.

"Clara?" the Professor's voice called, making Clara jump when she felt a hand on her shoulder, "You ok?"

"Yeah," Clara spun around, "I'm…I'm fine, I just…I'm sorry to ask, and, you know, I realize this is probably against the laws of time, or something, but um…could you do me a favor?"

"It depends what the favor is," the Doctor began warningly, straightening.

"Nothing enormous," she promised, "I just…could you take me back to the moment I left my date just before? I'm not going to try and stop myself, I just…I don't think I should have left."

"And you want to finish it," the Professor nodded, looking at the Doctor who shrugged, "So long as you don't interact with yourself, then it should be fine," she moved back to the console and began to set the coordinates with the Doctor.

Clara let out a breath, smiling, "Thank you."

She couldn't help but feel a bit…guilty. Because SHE had gotten distracted when Danny popped into her head before and the TARDIS had taken them to his childhood. He'd gotten the idea of being a soldier because the Doctor had had to scramble his memories and leave him with something. It was…it was her fault, in a way, that he'd grow up to become the man he was and she just…she owed it to him, after messing up like that, not to mess up again. She really should give him another chance because, whatever it was that made him as stuttery around her as he was, it was something that likely happened because of the life he had, and the life he had was in part because of her. She…she should get to know Danny just like she got an idea of Rupert, because they both were quite sweet and she just…she owed it to him to give it another chance and to be less how she normally was, because how she normally was was what had led to the confrontation in Rupert's room and the Time Lords needing to step in.

The Doctor pulled a lever and checked the monitor, "There we are…should be it."

Clara moved to the doors, the Time Lords behind her as she peeked out, not stepping out as she saw herself literally just leaving the restaurant, waiting till she'd gotten a good ways down the street before stepping out of the box, watching herself, "Is that what I look like from the back?"

"You're fine, Clara," the Professor reassured her.

"I was thinking it was good," Clara smirked a bit.

The Doctor blinked and half-grimaced, "Really?"

Clara rolled her eyes at that, putting her hands to her ears, "I don't need to hear about how Gran looks from the back!" she shouted at them, turning when she reached the doors of the restaurant to salute back at them before stepping in once more.

"Fantastic," the Doctor mumbled.

"What?" the Professor looked at him.

"How…how you look from the back," he turned to her, "Absolutely fantastic."

She lightly whacked him on the shoulder, "Speaking of dates…" she began, reaching out to take his hand, "How about we have one too?"

The Doctor considered it a moment, "Does it have to be with the pudding-brains around?"

She laughed, "No, but I do have a condition that it be somewhere that we can GET pudding, all this talk of pudding-brains has made me want pudding now."

"Then let's get you some pudding," he laughed, leading her up to the console, "What do you think mum?" he looked up at the rotor, "Where shall the kids go for a date?" the TARDIS hummed, "Right then," he reached out, pulling a lever, letting the TARDIS pick the place, "Nope," he reached out, grabbing the Professor's hand as she moved to bring the monitor up, wanting to see where they were, "Surprise from mum," he pointed a finger at her, "No peeking."

He turned and led her to the doors, throwing them open, the wide grin that had been on his face fading when he saw a black man in an orange spacesuit standing before the doors, the look of a space capsule behind him, gray wisps in his hair and beard, and a tired look on his face.

"Are you the rescue party?" he asked them.

The Time Lords looked at each other a moment, before turning on their heels and hurrying back to the console as the man stepped into the room hesitantly, waiting by the doors as they checked the coordinates.

"There's still a trace of Clara's timeline in the telepathic circuits," the Professor reported.

"Clara, Clara, Clara, Clara, always with the Clara," the Doctor muttered, reaching out for a lever to pull and get them back to Clara, taking their mystery man along with them.

~8~

The TARDIS doors slamming were not the sounds that the Time Lords thought they'd hear from Clara when they sent the man that had followed them, Orson Pink he'd introduced himself as, to go fetch Clara. They knew they were interrupting her date a bit, but if she perhaps just went to the loo for a moment they could get her back within seconds. They just…well, for a trace of her to still be in the telepathic circuits, it wouldn't start to work properly till they'd gotten it all sorted and for that they'd need Clara to even get Orson back to where he belonged.

"I am trying to have a date!" Clara huffed, following Orson as he entered the box in his spacesuit, his helmet on as he hadn't trusted them when they said it was safe and breathable outside, not about to risk it, smart boy, "A real life, inter-human actual date! It's a normal nice, everyday, meeting-up sort of thing. And I would just like to know, is there any other way you can make this anymore surreal than it already is?"

"I think she thinks that's you," the Professor murmured to the Doctor as they watched her huffing and shouting at Orson…

That is, till he took his helmet off and revealed himself, and Clara's eyes went wide, "Hello."

"Well done," the Doctor called to Orson as they headed down the stairs, "You found her. Now this is really a bit strange…"

"Danny?" Clara breathed, staring at the man, at Orson, in shock.

"What's gone wrong with your face?" the Doctor eyed Clara and her wide eyes, "It's all eyes! Why are you all eyes? Get them under control."

"Er, who's Danny?" Orson frowned.

"Um…no one," Clara shook her head, "Just…thought you looked like someone."

"This is Colonel Orson Pink," the Professor introduced, rubbing her chest again, feeling a bit of heartsburn striking again, they'd been about to go to a restaurant of their own and get pudding and it seemed like her body was aware of that and now rebelling due to lack of pudding, "From about a hundred years in your future."

"Orson Pink?" Clara blinked at the odd name.

"Yeah, we laughed too," the Doctor grinned.

"WHO laughed?" the Professor gave him a look.

"Alright, I laughed," he muttered.

"Funny," the Professor sighed, "You usually only laugh at archaeologists, not other time travelers."

"I laugh at a lot of things."

"Not this you."

"Laughter gives you a headache," he reminded her.

"No, Robin and his Men gave me a headache. YOU…I like your laugh."

The Doctor smiled at that, "Then I'll try to laugh more often."

"Good," the Professor looked at Clara a moment, just realizing that she hadn't interrupted their 'flirty thing' as she liked to call it, which she usually did once they got started, only to see that Clara herself was more than a bit distracted and staring at Orson, "Do you have any connection with him Clara?"

The way she was looking at the man…

"Connection?" Clara breathed.

"Yes, maybe you're like a distant relative or something?" the Doctor offered.

"If he's from her future, how would she know that?" the Professor countered to him.

"Right," the Doctor nodded, that did make sense, "Ok," he looked at Orson, "Er, well, do you have any old family photographs of her?" he nodded at Clara, "You know, probably quite old and really fat-looking?"

"Are you talking about me again?" the Professor crossed her arms and gave him a look.

"No, I was talking about Clara," he turned to her.

"You just said old and fat."

"Yes…" he frowned, not sure what she was on about.

"I'M old and fat," she gestured at herself, looking away as she felt tears prickling her eyes for that. She shouldn't be crying, she should be HAPPY about it, because being old meant that she was alive and fat…well, pregnant, she should be crying if she WASN'T fat but to say it out loud and…

The Doctor stepped over to her, taking her face in his hands, "You are not old or fat," he told her, his thumb just stroking under an eye as a tear nearly fell, "You are beautiful and glowing," she really was, she was just radiating that motherly glow, "You are pregnant and a healthy size. Though," he tilted his head, "You could be a bit bigger…"

"Oi," she sniffled though it was a laughing one.

"Any size, and I will have more to love, wife," he told her, earnest in his statement.

"Thank you husband," the Professor murmured, smiling now…before looking at Clara again, something about Orson had REALLY thrown her if she'd missed two opportunities to cut in. The girl was still just staring at Orson in shock.

"Um…" Orson shifted from foot to foot, seeing the Professor looking at him now as though expecting the answer, "I don't."

"How did you find him?" Clara finally seemed to snap out of it as she looked over at them.

"Well, you left a trace in the TARDIS telepathic circuits," the Doctor defended, "I fired them up again and the TARDIS brought us straight to him. So he is something to do with your timeline."

"Ok…"

The Doctor grinned widely, "And you'll never guess where we found him."

"You really won't," the Professor agreed, "Because we shouldn't have found him. Not there. We shouldn't have even been able to go there."

"Go where?"

"Here," the Doctor reached out and pulled a lever on the console, landing them quickly, Clara in shock as she hadn't even realized they'd been in flight, before heading to the doors and opening them, stepping out into the capsule they'd spotted behind Orson when they found him.

It was like a small, self-contained living quarter and ship all in one. There was a control panel, a door before them, circular, the lights a bit dim, with a window in the door that let them look out at a rocky planet just beyond the door, the sun just starting to set and taking up almost the whole of the sky beyond.

"Where are we?" Clara frowned, following them out.

"The end of the road," the Doctor sighed, staring out the window, his grip still tight on the Professor's, "This is it, the end of everything. The last planet."

"The end of the universe," the Professor nodded, "The TARDIS isn't supposed to come this far, but someone," she shot the Doctor a look, "Turned the safeguards off to let a human have access to the telepathic circuits."

"Listen…" the Doctor whispered, holding a finger to his lips.

"To what?" Clara whispered.

"Nothing. There's nothing to hear. There's nothing anywhere. Not a breath, not a slither, not a click or a tick. All the clocks have stopped. This is the silence at the end of time."

Clara looked back over her shoulder, seeing Orson at a small locker in the back, dumping the contents of it into a rucksack, preparing to leave it seemed, "Then how did he get here? If he's from a hundred years in my future…"

"Pioneer time traveler," the Professor remarked, "Like Hila," she added for Clara, giving her an idea of what they meant by pioneer, "Dangerous work."

The Doctor moved over to the control panel, sonicing the computer monitor set into it to bring up his information, showing a film of Orson preparing to leave on his mission, "Rode the first of the great time shots. They were supposed to fire him into the middle of the next week."

"What happened?" Clara asked.

"He went a bit far."

"A bit?" she scoffed.

"A big bit," the Doctor shrugged, glancing at Orson, "Look at him now. Robinson Crusoe at the end of time itself. The last man standing in the universe. I always thought that would be me. Well," he looked at the Professor, "US."

"I always knew it would be," the Professor squeezed his hand, "And here we are. Twice," she added, thinking about how, out there right now could be them finding the Master again…or it could be just after they'd reset time and sent the Toclafane back…she was hoping it was actually the first, she'd rather not deal with those little monsters again.

"He looks like he's packing," Clara commented, watching as Orson gathered his belongings, really seeming to just be cramming as much as he could into the bags, not even caring to fold or be precise, just in a rush.

"He's been stranded for six months," the Professor informed, "Just met time travelers. Of course he's packing."

"You can do it, then?" Orson turned back to them, having heard the last part of their conversation, "You can get me home?"

"We just showed you, didn't we?" the Professor nodded at the TARDIS.

"A test flight to a restaurant," the Doctor nodded.

"Yes, but to my family, to my own time?" Orson specified.

"Easy," the Doctor nodded, "We can do that, can't we, Clara?"

"They can, yes," Clara nodded.

"Because history doesn't say that he went missing," the Professor added, thinking of Hila, "They haven't defined what happened, being among the first, it's left open-ended, makes it easier for us."

Orson nodded and looked at Clara who was…staring at him again, it was starting to worry him, "Is everything ok?"

"Yeah, fine," Clara said quickly, "I'm fine."

"Do I know you?"

"No! Nope."

"Is she doing the all-eyes thing?" the Doctor asked, not even glancing up from where he was going through the computers data, "It's because her face is so wide. She needs three mirrors."

"Doctor…" Clara huffed.

"We can't leave immediately, though," the Doctor looked up, "The TARDIS needs to recharge."

"Sorry. What?"

"Overnight," the Doctor nodded, "That should do it, shouldn't it?" he looked at the Professor.

"Doctor…" the Professor sighed, giving him a look, knowing what he was doing.

"I can prove it," he whispered to her, "I just need one night."

"Overnight?" Orson seemed tense at that thought.

"One more night," the Doctor turned back to the humans, "That's…that's not a problem, is it?"

Orson took a breath, "No, no, no problem."

They could ALL tell that it was a blatant lie.

"It's a shame, isn't it?" the Doctor sighed, glancing at the window of the planet again.

"What's a shame?"

"There's only five people left in the universe, and you're lying to the other four," he looked at Orson

"Five?" Orson frowned.

"Well…four and a half," the Professor supposed, placing a hand on her stomach, not sure if her child could be considered a person just yet, it was the size of an avocado at the moment. Or at least, it couldn't be literally considered in the context the Doctor was thinking because it wasn't there yet.

"Still, it was the first thing we noticed when we stepped in here," the Doctor looked around, "You must have seen it, too, Clara."

"She would have if she used her eyes," the Professor agreed.

"What?" Clara frowned.

"I take that as a no," the Doctor remarked, making Clara roll her eyes.

"It doesn't prove anything though," the Professor gave him a look.

"The universe is dead," the Doctor just continued to explain, "Everything that ever was, is dead and gone. There's nothing beyond this door," he gestured at the circular door ahead of them, "But nothingness forever. So…why is it locked?"

"Paranoia," the Professor gave the Doctor a look, "Being alone for six months is enough to drive anyone to the brink. And humans ARE more prone to hysteria, or have you forgotten Midnight."

"Ah yes, the knocking-shadow-monster," the Doctor recalled, smiling at the memory.

"Please," Orson winced at that, as though something the Doctor had said struck a nerve, "Don't make me spend another night here."

"Afraid of the dark?" the Doctor looked at Orson, "But the dark is empty now."

"No," Orson swallowed hard, "No, it isn't."

The Professor sighed and rubbed her head as she saw the Doctor start to grin at that affirmation, knowing he'd take it as fact instead of Orson letting his mind get the best of him. She shook her head and turned back to the TARDIS, she need to use the loo and then she'd help sort this all out.

~8~

The Professor and the Doctor looked up from where they were going through some of the controls in the capsule when Clara stepped out of the TARDIS, "What are we doing?" she asked them, leaving Orson in the box as he'd requested. He didn't want to spend a night in the capsule, and that was fine, the Professor got the feeling the Doctor didn't want him in the capsule either so it was perfectly alright if he wanted to stay in the box instead.

"Waiting," the Doctor remarked.

"For what? For who?" Clara scoffed, "If everybody in the universe is dead, then there's nobody out there."

"That's one way of looking at it."

"It's really the only way to look at it," the Professor mumbled, making Clara look over at her for it. She really hadn't ever seen them both at odds like this. Not a bad odds, but…she'd never seen the Doctor believe or think something and the Professor just completely disagree like this.

"What's the other way to look at it then?" Clara asked the Doctor.

"That's a hell of a lot of ghosts," the Doctor flashed the sonic and dimmed the lights.

"Do you have your own mood lighting now? Because, frankly, the accent is enough…"

"He did it for that," the Professor nodded over to the circular door, pointing out the words that were written on the top and bottom of it, 'Do Not Open The Door.'

"Where did that come from?"

"It's always been there. It's only visible in the night lights."

"But who wrote it?"

"Colonel Pink," the Doctor answered, "Apparently, at night, he needs a reminder. Six months stranded alone, I suppose it must be tempting."

"What is?" Clara frowned.

"Company," he looked up as the capsule began to creak.

"What's that?" Clara breathed.

"What kind of explanation would you like?"

"A reassuring one?"

"The systems are switching to low power," the Professor explained, moving to sit down on the chair of the controls, she didn't know what it was but she'd been sitting a lot more lately, "There are temperature differentials all over this ship. It's like pipes banging when the heating goes off."

"Always thought there was something in the pipes," Clara murmured.

"Oh not you too Clara," the Professor let her head fall back onto the back of the chair with a mock-groan at how Clara was getting into this now too.

"Who were you having dinner with?" the Doctor asked suddenly, seeming to want to change the subject, whether it was off of the Professor's disbelief or onto something to reassure Clara neither knew.

"Are you making conversation?" Clara gave him a look.

"I thought that I would give it a try."

"I told you. A date."

"Serious?" the Professor's head popped back up to look at Clara.

"It's a date," she shrugged.

"Yes, I got that," the Professor nodded, "A serious date?"

"Do I have to bring him to you for approval?" Clara crossed her arms.

But this time it was the Doctor that answered, "Well, I would like to know about his prospects. If you like, I can pop ahead and check them out…"

"His prospects?" Clara dropped her arms.

"He wants to make sure that your date can take care of you Clara," the Professor offered, "We really DON'T think you being our granddaughter is a mistake."

Clara blinked at that and looked over at the Doctor, who was just absently scanning the controls, not even seeming to realize what he'd said or implied in asking about the man's prospects. She felt herself smiling at that, feeling relief fill her to know that. The Doctor…he was different, SO much different than the last him. At times she was genuinely concerned that he didn't really…care about her anymore. He didn't treat her like she was his granddaughter that he had to protect like last time. She tried to see it as he just thought she was old enough to not be babied, to be able to take care of herself. But she'd be lying to say she didn't miss it, miss his concern.

Now though, to know he really was thinking about wanting to meet Danny, to 'approve' of the man, to size him up, to decide if he was 'worthy' of her. It meant a lot to her. Because it meant that, even if he didn't seem to care outwardly, he really DID care about her still.

She moved over to the Doctor and gave him a tight hug from the side, "Clara!" he huffed, his hands extended before him, not even trying to hug her back but she didn't care.

She just moved on her toes and gave him a kiss on the cheek, "I love you too Gramps," she laughed, stepping back as he rolled his eyes and comically wiped the side of his face, making her shake her head in amusement.

But the lightness of the moment was cut off by something that sounded like a scream sounding, making the Doctor and Clara jump.

"What…" she began.

"Atmospheric pressure equalizing," the Professor called, not seeming perturbed at all, as though she'd almost expected something like that. And she had, because that was what it sounded like, what it would sound like in a capsule like this.

"Or?" Clara looked at the Doctor.

"Company," he breathed.

"It's just the equalizing," the Professor tried to reassure.

But Clara was genuinely frightened now and they knew from experience that when humans got frightened there was no reasoning with them, "Why are we doing this? Why don't we just go?"

"Because I need to know," the Doctor remarked.

"Why? About what?"

"Suppose that there are creatures that live to hide, suppose," he emphasized, pointing at the Professor, knowing that she hadn't been a believer in his theory the entire time, "That only show themselves to the very young or the very old, or the mad, or anyone who wouldn't be believed…"

"Ok…so?"

"What would those creatures do when everyone was gone? When there was only one man left standing in the universe?"

Clara gasped and spun around as three loud bangs sounded on the wall near the door, "What's that?"

"The hull cooling," the Professor called.

"Potentially," the Doctor corrected.

"Definitely," the Professor shot back even as three more sounds went off.

"Someone knocking," the Doctor shook his head, three more bangs, "Yes…" he took a step towards the door as it moved to three scraping noises, "This is JUST like Midnight."

"No, it isn't," the Professor sighed, it really was entirely different. On Midnight, there had been a shape, there had been a physical creature, it hadn't been hiding, they'd seen it, it had dented things and ripped things apart, it had moved. That noise was in the same place.

"Doctor," Clara winced as three more bangs sounded, "You don't actually believe all this, do you? Hiding creatures, things from under the bed?" she swallowed hard as more bangs and scrapes were made, "The Professor doesn't…"

"What's that in the mirror, or the corner of your eye?" the Doctor reasoned.

"The Family of Blood's daughter," the Professor reminded him, "With the red balloon," again, something physical.

"What's that footstep following, but never passing by?" he countered.

"The weight displacement of your feet on the ground," the Professor reasoned, "Even more with wood, it takes a second for the sound to catch up to you, makes it sound like someone's following you when they're not. Even more so when it echoes off buildings, but it's JUST you."

Three more bangs.

"Did we come to the end of the universe because of a nursery rhyme?" Clara tried to make light of the situation, recognizing the rhyme in the Doctor's words, but two more sets of three bangs went off. The Doctor flicked the sonic on, unlocking the door…only for the wheel on it to start to turn, "That's you turning it, right?"

"No," the Doctor stated, "Get in the TARDIS."

"Doctor…" the Professor stood up, to tell him that it was the ship's design.

A capsule like this was meant to only last literally to the middle of next week, not for six months at the end of the universe. It was literally falling apart around them, the lock was the only thing keeping the door from opening naturally because the mechanics that were supposed to keep it shut without a lock on it were deteriorating and the atmosphere outside wasn't helping, it was different than they'd expect on Earth. It was a different planet entirely, with a different gravity and pressure.

"I have to know," he turned to her, a franticness in his eyes, a need to prove himself, a look she'd seen before when he got like this, "The TARDIS, now! Both of you!"

"Ok, ok," Clara cut in, "Somebody is out there. Now we know, we can leave…"

"It's a pressure lock," the Professor explained to him matter-of-factly, "Releasing it would've triggered the opening mechanism."

The Doctor looked over at her, "Why are you two still here?!"

"Because if that opens you're going to get sucked out!" the Professor shouted, "And I am not going to let you do that just because you've gotten into one of your phases of needing to prove a ridiculous, sleep-deprived theory right! It has NEVER worked!"

"Just get in the TARDIS!" the Doctor actually yelled back at her, "If I'm wrong then I'm wrong! Clara, TARDIS, now!" he ordered the girl, "Do as you are told! Get her in there!"

Clara frowned, but reached out and took the Professor's arm as the woman glared back at the Doctor, ok…she really would rather have the old-people flirty thing now instead of this, she didn't…they were FIGHTING, the Doctor and Professor, Mr. & Mrs. Smith, were actually fighting, "Come on," she whispered to the Professor tugging her to the TARDIS.

"You're such an idiot sometimes Theta!" the Professor shouted back to him as she reached the doors.

"I know!"

The Professor nearly slammed the TARDIS doors shut and ran to the console the moment they were inside.

"What's happening?" Orson called from where he was sitting on the armchair but leapt to his feet when he saw the Professor running past.

"He's opening the door," Clara told him.

"And there is NOTHING there," the Professor muttered, bringing up the monitor, watching as the Doctor stood before the door, waiting.

"Perhaps they're all just waiting," the man recited, watching the wheel spin, "Perhaps when we're all dead, out they'll come a-slithering from underneath the bed."

"Idiot!" the Professor snapped as the door flew open and there was NOTHING there, nothing save a vacuum that was now trying to suck the air out of the capsule, causing the image to flicker and the TARDIS to suddenly jolt.

"What's happening?" Clara gasped, grabbing the console as the klaxon went off, "What's that?"

"There was an air shell around the capsule," the Professor told Clara, "It was breached when the door opened!"

"Stay here!" Orson shouted, hurrying to the door, the women watching.

The Doctor held onto the edge of the capsule's console, fighting against the air sucking at him. The Professor looked over as the door to the TARDIS opened, the protection of the TARDIS keeping them from being sucked out but allowing Orson to reach out and grab the Doctor's wrist, pulling the Time Lord towards the box and inside. She ran over to the doors, shutting them just as Orson and the Doctor fell to the ground, Orson panting as the Doctor remained unmoving.

"Is he ok?" Clara hurried over.

"He's out cold," the Professor swallowed hard, touching his hand, scanning him, "It was a bit much for him. He's knocked out. He'll be fine."

"Something hit him," Clara gently touched a small bump on his head.

"Everything was flying out of that door," Orson reminded her.

"Could've been that…"

"It WAS that," the Professor huffed, "You humans," she mumbled under her breath, trying to stand and bring the Doctor up with her.

"Let me," Orson hefted the Doctor up, half-dragging him towards the console, to the armchair.

Clara glanced at the doors, hearing a faint three-bang resonate before she hurried towards the console, to Orson as he placed the Doctor on the chair, "What was out there? What were you so afraid of?"

Orson shrugged, "I've been here a long time. My own shadow, probably."

"Yeah," Clara swallowed hard as there was a rumbling noise that made the TARDIS doors rattle slightly.

The Professor held her hands up as she joined them, "It's just the rest of the air escaping," she reassured them.

Both humans tensed though when a creaking noise sounded, "We are safe?" Orson looked at the Professor, "Nothing can get in here, right?"

"Nothing at all," the Professor agreed, moving to lean on the arm of the chair to look the Doctor over.

"Ok," Clara jumped as a hissing noise sounded, hurrying to the console as the cloister bell began to toll, sticking her fingers into the telepathic circuits.

"Clara!" the Professor shouted, it was just a warning to let the pilots know that there was something outside that was a danger or strain to the box, the air being sucked out and trying to move the box's outer shell was something, "Don't!"

But it was too late, the rotor had already begun to move, "Come on, come on, you can do it…"

"Clara," the Professor rushed over, grabbing Clara's hands to try and pull her hands out, knowing she was trying to help, knowing she just wanted to get all of them away from that, "I can pilot the TARDIS off just…"

But whatever she was going to say was cut off when the TARDIS landed with a thump, the cloister bell falling silent, everything falling silent really.

"Is that it?" Orson whispered, as though speaking louder might make things go to chaos again.

The Professor sighed, moving to the monitor, "The scanner's glitched," she murmured, "The debris must have hit the monitors outside the TARDIS," and that was a feat in itself.

"So…where are we?"

"Somewhere else," Clara offered.

"I can't tell from inside the TARDIS," the Professor moved over to the doors, Clara hurrying after her along with Orson, "No, no, one of you stays here with the Doctor."

"You can't," Clara pointed at Orson, "Thing is, my timeline, it keeps on," she offered to the man, guessing that something out there would be related to Orson if her timeline had brought him aboard, she didn't want to risk him meeting himself and causing another catastrophe, "Orson, you don't want to meet yourself. It's really embarrassing."

"Come on," the Professor headed to the doors, pushing them open with Clara and stepping out…only to stop so short that Clara nearly ran into her as she was closing the doors.

"Professor?" Clara asked, seeing the woman just standing there, wide eyed, very pale, "What is it?"

But the Professor was just looking around, as stunned, it appeared, to be there as SHE had been to see Orson and find out he was a part of her timeline. So she looked around the room as well, it was a…barn of sorts. It was dark, fully of hay, made of wood, creaking and with hints of moonlight filtering through the cracks at night. There was a little platform a few feet away, boxes and crates scattered around, a small ladder leading up to the platform where a bed was resting…

A bed that was occupied, by a small boy curled up under the covers, his back to them, sobbing.

"What…"

But the Professor cut her off, grabbing Clara's arm and pulling her to the side, diving behind a large crate as the doors opened and the sound of two people entering reached them. The Professor swallowed hard and closed her eyes a moment, seeming to try and gather strength to do something before she slowly moved onto her knees and peeked over the edge of the box, Clara hesitating before doing the same.

There was a woman in a fitted gown on the top, with a flowing dark red skirt, a white apron over it with a white headdress covering her hair, reminding Clara slightly of an old fashioned nurse, and a man in dark black, a fitted top and black pants in boots, his hair tripped but speckled with gray as they walked across the barn and towards the boy.

"Why does he have to sleep out here?" the man was whispering.

"He doesn't want the others to hear him crying," the woman sighed.

"Why does he have to cry all the time?"

"You know why," the woman hissed at him.

"There'll be no crying in the army."

"Hush," she huffed.

The man just rolled his eyes and looked at the boy as they reached the platform, "Don't pretend you're not awake. We're not idiots."

The woman was far kinder, more soft spoken, "Come and sleep in the dorms. You don't have to be alone. If you can hear me, you're very welcome back in, with the other boys. I'll leave the door on the latch. Come in any time."

The man rolled his eyes as they turned to go, "He can't just run away crying all the time if he wants to join the army."

"He doesn't want to join the army!" the woman huffed, "I keep telling you, it's that other one that does. HE wants to be a doctor."

"Well, he's not going to stay in the Academy, is he, that boy?" the man reached out and pulled the doors open for them to leave, "He'll never make a Time Lord of himself."

Clara frowned and looked at the Professor, but her gaze was focused on the platform, on the boy who was trying harder not to cry. She looked back at the boy as well, determined, and stood…only for the Professor to yank her down, a finger on her lips as Clara looked at her, before she pointed at the bed.

"Hello?" the boy called, having heard the shuffling, "Who's there? Hello?" he rolled onto his side, looking at them, but the barn was too dark for him to see them in the shadows or even to see the TARDIS hidden in the corner. He slowly sat up, moving his feet over the side of the bed…

Only to gasp when someone under the bed grabbed him, making Clara jump but the Professor quickly put a hand over her mouth to silence her.

"It's ok!" a small voice called, a little girl.

Clara watched with furrowed brow as someone wiggled out from under the bed, a little girl with blonde hair.

"It's just me," she smiled up at the boy.

"What are you doing here?" the boy asked, quickly wiping at his face with his sleeves, till the girl grabbed his wrist and stopped him, moving more out from under the bed before she could move to sit beside him on it.

"Don't cry," she whispered, "I don't like it when you cry."

"I'm not crying," he defended.

The girl pointed at his face, "Your face is still wet," she told him, "And I heard you," she pointed down.

The girl must have gotten there and under the bed just before they'd arrived. Maybe the sound of the TARDIS had startled her to hide.

"Are you gonna make fun of me too?" he muttered, a bit of a bitter tone in his voice.

The girl frowned, "Do you make fun of me?"

"No!" he shouted, "I never make fun of you. You're my friend."

"Why would I make fun of you?" she tilted her head to the side.

The boy sighed and looked down, "The others do."

"Then they aren't real friends."

"They're my roommates," he shrugged.

"Is that why you're here?"

"How did you even know I was?" he looked at her, frowning, not answering though.

"I saw you," she whispered, "I couldn't sleep and I was looking at the stars out the window…and I saw you heading out here with the lady."

"And you snuck out?" he started to smile at that, as though the idea of the girl breaking a rule was wonderful to him.

"I didn't want you to be alone," she shrugged.

The boy sighed, "I didn't want you to know that I cry."

"Why not?"

"Cos I'm…I'm not supposed to," he offered, "I'm…I'm supposed to be your Doctor and make you feel better. This would make you feel bad."

"But YOU feel bad," she pointed out, "And you do make me feel better, just being my friend, I want to make you feel better too," she put a hand on his arm, "Why are you crying?"

"I'm just…I'm scared sometimes, of the dark," he admitted quietly.

"I'm scared of loads of things," she told him, "Not as much when you're with me. You told me that being scared can be a superpower that makes us better and…and I'm not so afraid of being afraid now."

"I'm glad," the boy smiled at her.

"Do you feel scared now?" she continued and he looked down, ashamed, and nodded, so she reached out and took his hand, "What about now?"

The boy laughed and looked at her, seeing such a determined look in her eyes, that she wasn't going to stop till she found some way to make him not scared, "No," he whispered, "I'm not quite so scared now."

The beam that the girl gave was enough to make the boy smile fully, "Good!" she took his hand in both of hers, "I'll always be here," she promised, "Whenever you get scared, I'll be right there and I'll hold your hand till you aren't anymore. And if I'm not there, you can come find me and I'll let you sneak in," she whispered that last part to him.

He chuckled, "Really? YOU would let me sneak in? That's against the rules."

The girl was silent a moment, "Sometimes helping someone is more important than the rules."

"And…I'M that important?"

"To me," she nodded, earnest.

The boys' smile softened, "I don't feel so scared anymore," he whispered, but he looked down a moment, "You…you promise you'll always be there when I'm scared?"

She nodded…

And Clara's eyes widened to the size of saucers when she saw the little girl reached out and place her right hand over the boy's right heart, the boy doing the same, before their hands met in the middle in a clasp. She knew that gesture, she knew only two people who EVER made a promise like that.

She turned to look at the Professor as she smiled sadly at the two children…neither of them knowing the horrors that would be coming in their future, but both promising to always be there through it.

The Professor waited till the two children turned to lay down on the bed, facing each other, quietly talking, before she took a breath and turned to nudge Clara back towards the TARDIS.

"Where are we?!" the Doctor demanded as they entered, having woken only moments before the doors opened, "Have we moved? Where have we landed?!"

The Professor just walked over to him, reaching out and hugging him tightly. The Doctor instantly returned the embrace, looking at Clara over her shoulder, not sure if he should be worried something had upset her or not.

"Don't look where we are," Clara told him quietly, a small smile on her face, "Just take off."

"Why?" he frowned.

"I'll tell you later," the Professor promised, pulling away, "But right now, I need my husband to promise that we'll leave right now, without looking through those doors. Because if we were not meant to reach the end of the Universe…we should NOT be here."

The Doctor looked at the Professor a long moment, before sighing, "Anything for you, wife," he murmured, giving her a quick kiss to her forehead before he moved to the console and sent them off.

~8~

Orson and Clara had been sorted out easily, but there was still one matter that still had to be seen too, which was why it wasn't a surprise to the Professor to find the Doctor sitting in the doorway of the TARDIS, looking out at the earth below when she sat beside him, handing him a cup of tea she'd made for him, grimacing as she sipped her ginger tea but smiling as she scooped out a large helping of pudding from the bowl she'd brought with her as well.

Finally, pudding. Mmm...

"Going to tell me what happened?" the Doctor asked, cutting off her thoughts.

"Are YOU?" she countered, shifting to look at him, "The nightmare Theta…the one where someone grabbed your ankle. That was where the TARDIS took us last, it showed me that again, that moment. You KNOW that was when we were children, when I did that in the barn. You told me once that you never had a nightmare like that till after you'd run off from Gallifrey, that they stopped when you found me again."

"They…happened in Christmas," he sighed, taking a sip of the tea, "You weren't there and…they started again. I suppose my mind, sometimes, thinks I'll wake up and this'll be a dream, having you back, and all I'd have left was that promise you made, that you'd be there when I was scared."

He'd told her a very very long time ago that a small part of the adventures he got into, the dangers he found himself in, a large part was that he didn't plan it, it happened, that it was good for the adrenaline, kept him sharp, but a small part but still a part of it was…he almost hoped to find himself in danger. Because he'd be scared, and if he was scared enough, if he was truly scared…then maybe she'd feel it, across time and space, and come to him. Maybe if he was just scared enough she'd be beside him again so he wouldn't be scared.

It was that promise she'd made him when they were children, to always be there when he was scared so she could hold his hand, that had driven him to get himself in places where he was genuinely scared. In the hope the promise would be fulfilled and she'd return to him. Christmas had been a terrible time, he'd been scared numerous times, for himself, for the people of the town, for the planet, even for his enemies. And he'd dream of her, he'd dream the traitorous dream and he'd find that flash of hope when he was scared that she'd show up again, out of the blue, and hold his hand even when HE had been the one to send her away.

"This is because of Christmas," she murmured.

It did make sense. He was so obsessed with that dream, because of what it meant, it meant a promise of always, it meant that she'd be there when he was scared. He'd tried to play it off, to make it less about that, to find proof that everyone dreamed it at some point, because he hadn't wanted to focus on all those times he'd been afraid and alone and she hadn't been there, because it had been HIS choice not to have her there.

The lack of sleep had made it morph into something different, had made it become an obsession. All of this, everything, had been about people being scared, of having that moment of terror…because to him, he associated it with her promise to be there. But what could have triggered it? She knew that he had dreams like that, mostly when he was genuinely terrified, it would trigger the dream and…

"You're afraid of the baby," she realized, looking at him.

"No," he shook his head, setting his cup to the side, "Not of the baby just…" he swallowed hard, "So much could go wrong," he whispered, "Not just with the pregnancy but the birth and…and what comes after."

"Theta you were a wonderful father," she reached out and took his hand, "Your son loved you, SO much...and you loved him too. You'll love this child as well, and everything will be fine."

"I just…I have a nasty habit of abandoning the people I love," he admitted, he didn't count Mayra, not really, but he could admit he hadn't been there for her through many things, even emotionally he hadn't been there, "I left you, repeatedly, I couldn't save you, and then Christmas and…what if our child needs me and I'm not there for it."

"You always will be," she shook her head, "I promised you that I'd be there to hold your hand, and I wasn't. I don't exactly have the best track record either. But I like to think we've made up for that," she squeezed his hand, "Even when we weren't there physically, we ALWAYS were for each other. When you were scared, you'd think of me, yes?" he nodded, "When I was scared, I'd think of you," she added, "We will make sure that this child is so loved that even when we're not right next to them, they KNOW we're always there."

"I just…don't want to be afraid of this," he told her, finally able to admit he'd taken this whole thing too far, he'd wanted to make it about the fear humanity and every species felt instead of something HE was dealing with.

"You were the one that told me fear was good," she nudged him, "It makes you quicker and cleverer and stronger. And…maybe we should be afraid of this," she shrugged, "Maybe we'll be better, more loving, more protective parents for being so afraid."

He let out a breath and looked at her, "When did you get optimistic again?"

She just shook her head and looked back at the stars and the earth, "When you're next to me," she told him, lacing their fingers together, "Holding my hand."

The Doctor looked down at their joined hands before starting to smile, looking out at the universe before the TARDIS as well, knowing she was right.

So long as they were together, so long as they had each other's hand to hold…they'd be just fine.

A/N: My entire fault this is late this time :( I slept right though my alarm to post this at 6:30 and by the time I woke up I was literally running around my house because I was late to meet up with friends for lunch and only realized I hadn't posted till I was halfway to the restaurant. I just got back now, and posted this as soon as I ran up to my room lol :) But the internet IS working still which is good :)

I was very tempted to have the Professor stay with Clara and meet Rupert or overhear Clara talking to Orson, but I really want the reveal of Clara/Danny to be a shock to BOTH the Time Lords, especially for the Professor because she likes to notice things and she's completely missed the signs of this ;)

I wasn't entirely sure how I felt about this episode, like...I enjoyed it, because it was interesting, but I feel like nothing was actually answered and that the Doctor gave up too easily to not having things answered, it reminded me too much of times where the Doctor was like 'I'll spend ALL this time focusing on this issue to work out but...actually, nah, let's go somewhere else' :/ I wanted to try and explore it from the POV of, what if the Doctor was really just looking for a coincidence where it didn't exist and seeing things he wanted to see. Even though I loved Clara's speech, I wanted to connect the barn more to a memory of the Professor as well, give them something to discuss and work through at the end, like it was his own subconscious playing out in the episode as well :) He really did just need sleep here lol :)

I know that it was sort of implied in the show that the barn might have happened before the Academy, but as this is a fanfiction, I tweaked it a little to make it that it happened while the Doctor and Professor were both already in the Academy. Hope that's ok ;)

Some notes on reviews...

Oh there'll definitely be things shaken up with the other TLs in Sherwood ;)

That's cool :) I tried to make LJ able to still communicate through telepathic talk to his parents and them being able to understand Baby, but I understand that the babies being toted everywhere can get tedious :) I can't say how quickly they'll grow up, it'll depend how much time passes for the Doctor. Like if it's a year for him, it would be a year for the babies, but if he shows up and is 10 years older, then the kiddies would be 10 years older too :) I tried for Evy to make it more LJ growing at a normal rate that we see, so he wouldn't be involved in the year-skipping, but I feel like here it would be interesting to follow along with time jumps and see Clara's (or another companion's) reaction to babies one day then like 9 year olds, then teenagers another and so on :) So it'll depend how the time goes for the Doctor here :)

Yup, twins ;) If you'd like, there are 2 posts up on my tumblr's Academic Series page that shows them, and their titles, as children and as adults ;) That is...if they both survive the birth }:)

I can say Jenny might show up very late in the Series, likely not till after the babies are born, she has to return Aeon after all so we'd see her for that, but I can't say when it might happen ;)

I liked Time Heist too :) And I agree, there are so many things that aren't explained when things change. Like, it COULD be that Clara's pregnant and that's how Orson exists. It could be that, somehow, Danny comes back (maybe Santa helps?), or that Danny and a twin brother were separated in the homes and another Pink is out there that eventually has Orson. It's like, all of Series 5-7 exists so that Trenzalore happens and we see a very real scar and proof that there's a huge battle that kills the Doctor in Name of the Doctor...but now, the Christmas finale completely reverses that. So how did NOTD happen if he never died? Was it just that it was a result of the regeneration? That the regeneration created the scar? But the TARDIS was there, or was it an echo of the TARDIS because it had been sitting there for so long? Or did the Doctor grow another TARDIS because he had the time? There's a lot left unanswered :/

I'm not really big on Batman so I'm not sure if I'd ever pair the Joker with anyone :) I'm glad you think that the new Proffy is rather terrifying, she'll definitely prove it a few times }:)