A/N In response to the review- Rory just hasn't popped up yet– he'll be there, and so will River. Donna shows up briefly at the end of this chapter, but probably won't come back because she wasn't as fun to write. ALSO IMPORTANT UPDATEY BIT HERE so on Sunday I start a five–day camp at which it is very likely I shall make no friends. During this friendless camp, I cannot update. So on the next scheduled update day (Friday) I'll try to put up the next 2–3 chapters, depending on how much I've edited. Thanks to lisagrrrrr for the favorte/follow!

This is the chapter that I actually wrote first, like as a concept for the rest of the thing- and it is...*drumroll* the fiftieth AU! Enjoy!

Edit: OH GOD I AM SO SORRY THERE ARE SO MANY MISTAKES REUPLOADING SORRY SORRY

Also, I can see that people are reading this, so...review please?

Day 3: Being Diplomatic Peoples

The next morning, her home phone rang her awake. Groggily, she picked up the line and held it to her ear. "Yes?"

"Clara." Very definitely Peter's voice.

"Hello, the Scottish Eyebrows." She struggled into a sitting position. "What's happening?"

"Crisis on Gallifrey. We need assistance. If you still want to come, that is." Peter's voice sounded strained.

"What problem do we have today?"

"The Chin has gone up a tree and won't come down."

"Roger, Sergeant. I'll be over."

"Thanks, Oswald."

Clara scoffed at him and hung up. Twenty minutes later, she was pulling up at the Smith household– and she was definitely beginning to see the problem. "Very Arthur Dent." she called up at her sort–of–boyfriend, who ignored her and continued sitting obstinately on Gallifrey Landing while a tree removal squad shouted murder at him.

He glanced down and spotted Clara. "Hello, Clars." He shouted. "Having a nice morning?"

"Sarcasm detected and duly ignored."

"While you're here, would you mind telling these very kind people to shove off and don't look back? Politely, I mean."

Clara turned to the squad. "Shove off. Politely."

The members began to grumble and shout at her too, when Peter suddenly appeared in the doorway. "Clara. Inside. Now."

He grabbed her elbow and pulled her in. John looked away and continued ignoring the shouting people.

Chris shut the door behind them and Peter slumped into a chair at the kitchen table. David walked out of the hall, eating an apple. "Hey, Clara. Heard the news?"

She walked to the table and took a seat. "No, not really. What's going on out there?"

Peter slid a violently blue flyer at her. "There's a guy next door. Name's Bellamy Hurt."

Clara winced. "Not the best name."

"The guy's got a personality to match." Chris spoke from the couch, throwing a bouncy ball up at the ceiling. "He's trying to tear down Gallifrey."

"Tear down Gallifrey? Why would he want to do that?"

"Says it's sticking into his yard and invading his property." Peter said drily. "And it definitely has nothing to do with the fact that he's had a grudge against us since we broke his front window nine years ago. Or the other thing."

"Other thing?" Clara asked, but they all ignored her.

"So last night, he sends us a warning notice– over there." David pointed at a piece of paper that had clearly been crumpled up and thrown at something about ten times.

"And John, being the obstinate child that he is, has decided to protest, even though he claimed for years that 'Gallifrey was gone' just because a bit of it burned that one time." David scoffed, which reminded Clara–

"Why do you two sound, like, Scottish and they don't?"

"Adopted." Peter and David said in unison. Clara frowned.

"John didn't tell me that."

"Bet John didn't tell you about Amy either, but you know anyway." Chris said, pointing to the printout that Clara quickly stuffed deeper in her bag. "Our Johnny likes his secrets."

Peter gave her a look, but it quickly passed and he spoke again. "It's your turn to try and get him down, then."

"Climbing more trees?"

"Technically, Clara, you're climbing the same tree as you did yesterday." David pointed out, but Clara brushed it off.

"Why don't you lot have a gander at it, then?"

"What do you think we've been up since six doing?" David objected.

Clara shrugged. "Whinging and eating apples, I don't know."

"That's completely rubbish." Peter stated firmly. "I hate apples."

"What would happen if Gallifrey fell?"

John turned sharply at the noise– there, in a neighboring tree, sat Clara Eleanor Oswald, placid, like she'd been there the whole time.

"I mean, apart from the obvious. Tree falls in the suburbs, there are people around, noise and sadness." Clara stood on the branch she. was on and clambered onto another, farther up. "I like this one. See how the branches go around in rings? Like a spiral staircase."

"I know. That one's called–"

"Akhaten." Clara finished for him. "Your brothers told me the stories. The rings of Akhaten, and the pyramid city. Beautiful, they said it was."

"But Akhaten can't replace Gallifrey. It can't even come close."

"And it doesn't have to." She walked as if on a tightrope towards him, balancing on a branch above Gallifrey Landing. Clara considered jumping, but deemed the platform too rickety. "Scottish Eyebrows didn't tell me exactly what Hurt had against the tree."

John broke into a grin. "Did you just call my brother Scottish Eyebrows?" he asked through a laugh.

Clara shrugged. "Maybe I did." She settled into the branch above him. "So, Hurt versus Gallifrey."

John sighed. "You're impossible, you know that?"

"Yup." she said, popping the p. "Now tell."

"A few years ago, there was a fire near the base of the tree. It burned up almost the entire house that used to be here as well as the left side of the tree. See how the branches are thicker on the right?"

"Yeah."

"The fire also...erm..." he coughed a bit– " killed my Da."

"Oh." Clara said in a small voice. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be, you had nothing to do with it. He and Hurt's brother, Paul, died in the fire. Gallifrey burned, but they didnt care. Hurt's been trying to get rid of it since then, but this is new." He flourished a neon blue flyer like the one that Peter had. "Actually hiring a tree removal company for a tree that's not even on his property? That's on the edge of rude. And I am not moving, if that's what you came up here to do." his voice had an edge of annoyance, and he drew his knees up to his chest.

"Why would they send me to bring you down? Peter's stronger than I am." She began to move down to the Landing. "Have any of you tried talking to Mr. Hurt?"

John scoffed. "The man barely does anything than grumble at us, Clara."

"So? You're saying–" she came to a seat facing him– "you've never tried reasoning with him. At all."

"Nope."

"Hey, it's that girl! Hey, both of you! Get down!" The tree squad started yelling at Clara too.

"Oi! Pop off, er..."

"Crackling mortals." supplied John.

"Pop off, crackling mortals!" She tried to throw a leaf at them.

"What did you say about property earlier?"

"He can't take something off someone else's property, can he?"

"Hey! Idiots! Up here!" John shouted. "Hurt can't touch this! Go away!"

"He's paying us a hundred dollars to get this thing gone." yelled one of the people. "You go away!"

John rolled his eyes. "See? Rude." he said to Clara.

There was a buzz in Clara's pocket, then a loud ringing noise. She pulled it out and answered. "Hello?"

"Clara, where are you?"

Clara glanced at John, and then back down at the shouting people below her. "Oswin, really not the time."

There was a pause. "Ooh, you're with Mr. Smith, aren't you."

"Shut up. And stop calling him that. It's weird."

"What are you doing then?"

"I'm in the middle of something, okay?" said Clara, ignoring the catcalls of the tree removal squad and the feeling that John was staring at her.

"You were kissing him, weren't you?"

"What? No! Oswin!"

"Just tell me where you are."

Clara sighed, glaring at John, who was indeed staring at her. She knew exactly what would happen if she told Oswin where she was, but she had to. It was her sister asking. "I'm in a tree." she muttered.

Almost instantaneously, Oswin started screeching. "CLARA AND JOHNNY BOY, SITTING IN A TREE, K.I.S.S.I.N.G."

Clara set down her phone, where Oswin's song continued. John picked it up. "Hey. Oswald. You're not allowed to call me Johnny boy. I'm your teacher. In fact," he said, sounding incredulous, "nobody calls me Johnny boy."

"Except me."

"Except her. Wait, when did you call me that?"

She shrugged. "Chris used it the other day, and I guess I did too, sometime after."

"Pretty sure you've not called me that one."

"Yeah I have–"

"No, no, from you I've gotten Chin, Chin boy and Doctor boy which are all admittedly better than Johnny boy."

"Are you sure?"

He nodded. "Yup."

"Okay. But Oswin, you can't call him that because he's your teache– oh, she's hung up. Good."

She looked up and saw John silently laughing at her. She swatted him on the arm. "Shut up, Chin."

"I think I like you, Clara Oswald."

"Right back at you. Now." She stood unsteadily, letting her hair fall over her face, which had suddenly flushed red. "Are we going to go be diplomatic peoples and talk to the angry man with the unfortunate name?"

"Can't we be rebellious peoples and keep sitting on Gallifrey Landing?"

"Not really an option. You didn't even bring food."

He huffed and crossed his arms. "Well, can't we get David or Chris to come and Gallifrey–sit?"

"Peter comes with us for negotiation then?"

John thought about it, then made a face. "No. David is better with that. Peter would just be sarcastic until Hurt died from overexposure to snark– hm, on second thought..."

"No. We're bringing David." She climbed to a lower branch and smiled up at him. "I'll get the others?"

"Okay."

She jumped from her branch. "Geronimo!"

Bellamy Hurt was a rather crotchety old man, and when Clara, John and David rang his doorbell Clara got a glimpse of their problem. He opened the door, saw them, made a 'bleurchgh' noise, and closed the door.

"Hello? Mr. Hurt?" Clara asked.

"Go away."

"I'm not a Smith, sir."

"You're with dicky bow and sandshoes, so you're just as bad." came the reply. John frowned and straigtened his bowtie. "Not a dicky bow." he mumbled.

"Not sandshoes!" David protested, scuffing his bright red Converse against the curb.

"Yes they are!"

"Look, Mr. Hurt, we're just here to talk about your recent action toward the removal of Gallifrey and destruction of Gallifrey Landing."

The door opened a crack. Hurt peered around it. "What the hell is a gallifrey?"

Clara sighed. "The tree."

He opened it wider. "You people name your trees?"

"It's a symbolic thing," David said. "and the point is to keep it alive after it burned the last time." John had gone very still beside Clara. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his fist clemching.

Hurt's face darkened. "Do not remind me of last time." he said in quiet rage. "Now go away." He slammed the door in their faces.

"No. NO. STOP. DO YOU THINK WE DIDN'T LOSE PEOPLE IN THAT TOO?" John's voice was rising. He pounded on the door. "MY FATHER WAS KILLED. MY MOTHER LEFT US." The rage began to make his words catch.

"John, calm–" David put a hand on his brother's shoulder, but John brushed it off, still slamming his hand against the door.
"AND WE KEEP IT THERE TO REMIND US OF THAT DAY. BECAUSE IT CAME BACK AFTER IT DIED. AND IT IS A REMINDER THAT IT. WILL. GET. BETTER."

This time, Hurt opened the door the full way. Hos eyes were full of rage. "Then it needs to come down, because you haven't learned the full lesson yet. It doesn't get better. It never gets better. Life is unfair, Smith, and you need to get that through that thick dreamer skull of yours."

John was shaking in anger. "I know life isn't fair. But it has to improve, because that's the point."

There was silence for a few seconds. Clara glanced from John, who finally seemed to be calming down, to Hurt, who seemed to be quietly furious, before she decided to step in. "Oh–kay, moving away from the emotional side, let's talk technical." She straightened a crisp red folder and shoved it into the man's hands. "This is the regulations for the trees in Neptune Creek. On the second page, you will see all the measurements for Gallifrey and the Landing. You'll find that it all meets specifications, so you cannot lodge a formal complaint. And if you can't lodge a formal complaint, you cannot give the order for the removal of the tree."

Hurt glared at her, managing to look incredulous and angry at the same time.

"Also," David moved forward, flipping to page three, "here you'll find statements that Gallifrey is our tree on our property. Which means you do not have the right to do anything to our tree unless you have written approval from the owner of the house. However, the owner of the house is currently sitting on Gallifrey Landing fending off uninformed peoples trying to cut it down."

Hurt's eyes had narrowed so much that they were barely slits. "Very well." he grumbled.

He walked out to the crew, huge leather overcoat flapping behind him. "You can go home! I was mistaken!"

"We ought to tell the others." Clara said.

"You're right. Allons–y!"

"Geronimo!"

They took off running, and Clara heard Hurt behind them. "Oh, for God's sake!" he yelled at the bemused tree removal squad. Then, to her and the two Smiths flanking her– "Gallifrey stands!"

"And then he said, 'Well, I can't reverse the polarity of the neutron flow,' and I said, "Well, what use is that laser spanner then?" and he said–"

"It's a sonic screwdriver!" David practically shouted. Rose grinned and leaned back so that her head was on his shoulder.

"D'you want to tell the story?"

"Oh, but you tell it so much better!" He gave her a quick peck on the lips and Donna groaned.

"Are you two always kissing? John, are those two always kissing?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

Clara had never actually heard of Donna before, but she definitely counted as one of the nice people in Neptune Creek. It was nearly nine o'clock at night, and yet the celebratory Gallifrey Falls No More picnic was still happening, albeit by lanternlight instead of sunlight.

Donna rolled her eyes as the Golden Couple kissed again. "Do they ever stop?" She stage–whispered to Chris, who shook his head and turned up the AM radio to mask the sounds of kissing. They started talking about some other part of the story Rose had missed. Clara wrinkled her nose. "You know, I don't think it requires that much tongue." Clara called out, high–fiving Donna, who sat next to her.

"Are you going to come up for air anytime soon?" John asked. No response. "Okay then.."

"Pity." Clara mused. "I kind of wanted to hear the end of that story." Rose had been talking about one of her first Doctor Days, before she and David began dating.

John scoffed. "It's a Stormwolf story told by Stormwolf themselves. It ends in kissing either way."

The odd kissing sound stopped. "We're done now." Rose said.

Clara laughed a bit. "I thought you'd be gasping for oxygen!"

"They've practiced." John whispered to her, and suddenly she squealed and started humming.

"What?"

"I love this song!"

"Really?"

She nodded.

"Sky Sailing's Brielle, right?"

"You know Sky Sailing?"

"A friend showed me the video for it a while back. You know, with the paper airplanes." He made funny little hand gestures when he said 'paper airplanes', ans she tried not to giggle.

"The art in that was beautiful, wasn't it?"

"Absolutely. So, Impossible Girl–" he pulled her to her feet– "May I have this dance?"

"Of course."

They began dancing. "Impossible Girl?"

"You're impossible, remember?"

He saw Clara's smile, even in the dim light. "Why, yes I am."

And suddenly they were both singing, and with the lantern light and the barely there sunshine through the trees, Clara felt like she really was dancing on Gallifrey. Like she was really seeing it, even burnt and war–ravaged but still beautiful. Still there, visible in an instant of time.

She could still see it behind her eyelids when she got home inside her bed, and the music of the spheres sang her to sleep.