Chapter 8: With Lifetimes in Between

'I swear I have no idea what they get up to all day...We've only got ten farms and a library, it's not like they've anything else to regulate…You sure you don't want some of this, Harry?'

Harry looked down at the remains of Mason's stew, where rubbery grey eels could be seen floating ominously at the bottom of the bowl. He politely declined, settling for the side of charred leaves which tasted vaguely of crisps when drowned in enough salt.

He wished latently that he'd remembered to pack some chocolate before embarking on what was turning out to be rather an extended trip, but you can't choose your spoilers.

'Well I can't really blame her for wanting to stay out' said Harry. To occupy his hands, he picked up a book on medicinal poultices and started flicking through it with the level of interest you might expect. 'I don't think I've ever seen your mum take a break'.

'Oh, she's not taking a break' grumbled Mason. 'She's just leaving the grunt work to me so she can run off and play the politician…'

This said, he proceeded to take out his frustration on the chopping board, leaving a pile of mush where sliced chickweed should have been.

Harry wisely said nothing, letting the older boy get it out his system. He'd quickly realised that diplomatic silence was the only way to survive arguments between the teenager and his mother, which were rapidly increasing right along with Mason's already heavy workload.

Harry's repeated offers to help out had been deemed unnecessary by the pair of them once they'd seen how fundamentally unsuited he was to botany. Granted, neither patience nor precision were qualities one usually looked for in a time traveller and Elysia maintained that pluck and recklessness were similarly redundant in her laboratory or any other, for that matter.

Add that to his near-successful attempts to block out his powers and Harry was in danger of feeling properly useless.

He could only practice for so many hours a day before his head started to throb at an unbearable level. In fact, his first weeks in hiding were characterised by so much pain in his scar that it became a habit of Mason's to carry homemade headache soothers on his person at all times, an act of kindness for which Harry would be forever grateful.

Three months in, Harry was on the verge of complete suppression of his powers and despite his initial reservations, he couldn't help but admit to the enormous amount of relief that came with leaving them behind once and for all.

For one thing, his dreams were again his own.

But while the curing of his chronic insomnia might have been a helpful improvement back when his daily activities were of the higher-risk variety (Abe would likely never forgive him for snoring through Gettysburg), right now the extra energy was making him a bit stir crazy, considering that the most danger he was likely to run into here was a scathing look from Elysia if he were to break another window.

During all this time, Harry saw nothing of the outside world, barring the perplexed neighbour who'd wandered into the greenhouse one day to return the football they'd kicked over the courtyard wall (which, as it turned out, hadn't landed as unobtrusively on the roof as they'd estimated). They had heard her approach with time to spare but Mason was still jumpy enough to insist that Harry hide under the laboratory table for the entirety of her visit.

'All I'm saying is, you could be a little more careful' he complained, once Harry had climbed out and wiped off whatever half-decomposed plant had gotten stuck to his sleeve. 'She wanted to know what it was – I had to invent some sort of foot-operated rolling pin…'

'I'm careful enough, aren't I? Haven't been executed yet…' Harry fell into a chair and started rolling the football around in his hands thoughtfully. 'Mason, you're not staying in just to keep me company, are you?'

'What? Of course not' he said, nonplussed.

'But you must have friends, people your own age. You've barely left the house since I got here' said Harry with a challenging look. 'I just don't want to you to think I'm bored under house arrest and that you need to entertain me or something... I've got 'Immunology in the Ogon Belt' for that' he joked, picking up another frayed book at random.

'Well everyone's the same around here, aren't they?' said Mason, eyes still fixed on his steadily working hands. 'My friends will still be here when you're gone… The universe won't be'.

'You know, you could always come with us' suggested Harry after a moment's pause. 'As long a trip as you like'.

'What, and have chips on Neptune with you and the Doctor?' said Mason, rolling his eyes.

'That's the idea, yeah' grinned Harry, the two of them falling into a comfortable silence.

Harry knew that despite Mason's fascination with all things celestial, he wouldn't be leaving his home planet anytime soon unless forcibly removed, which from the sounds of it wasn't that remote a worry for the people of the town. Home was everything to him; Harry's presence just a momentary glimpse into another, more exciting world. For Harry, it was arguably the most stable routine he'd kept up in years.

He wondered if he'd have ever chosen to leave Earth if the Dursleys had treated him like one of their own. Remembering Dudley, he winced and moved on.

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For lack of a better use for his time, Harry took to sitting with Mason while he worked and telling him stories, the like of which Harry had a great number in reserve for just such an occasion. Mason never tired of hearing about the Doctor or their adventures but as the weeks drew on, Harry could tell that he was beginning to test the limits of the other boy's credulity.

'Okay, now you're just having me on' he interrupted.

'Really? You don't believe in Raxacoricofallapatorians?' clarified Harry in amazement. 'Men with potatoes for heads you're fine with, but you draw the line at a long word…'

'Say it quickly three times'.

Before Harry could do so (seamlessly), they were interrupted by the stormy arrival of Mason's mum, who threw her scarf on the nearest bench and went straight to her office with barely a nod to the pair of them.

'Now's as good a time as any' said Mason under his breath, looking amused at Harry's unwillingness to move from his seat.

He had been hoping to catch the botanist in a better mood but true enough, her light-hearted moments were few and far between and improved the overall harmony of the household to such an extent that Harry wasn't wont to spoil it with serious discussion of any kind, let alone this one.

Knocking casually as he pushed the door open, Harry found her bent over her notes.

'Do you have a second?'

'I suppose so. You don't mind if I keep writing while you talk, do you?' said Elysia noncommittally.

'No, not at all' said Harry, rocking back and forth on his heels. 'It shouldn't take long, I was just wondering… I mean, I'm not much of a help, am I? And you've been wonderful, both of you. I'm a thousand times better than when I arrived. But like you said' –

'What are you mumbling about?' she sighed.

'I think I should be getting back to the Doctor' he said. 'My scar hasn't been acting up for weeks now and well…I have to leave sometime, don't I?'

Elysia looked at him blankly and then returned to her work.

'I know we never set a date or anything but you said it would likely never leave completely. And if I can control myself here, surely' –

'It's your decision, Harry' she interrupted him. 'I wasn't planning on holding you against your will'.

'It's not that I'm not grateful' –

'I think you've mistaken my effectiveness for concern, Harry' she said coldly. 'It won't affect me or my son if you put the Doctor at risk, I'm sure he's used to it by now' –

'Now wait a second' said Harry, frowning now.

'If you can trust yourself after everything you've seen then good luck to you' she said crisply. 'I'm afraid you'll have to forgive me my lack of faith…'

Elysia didn't look up again and this time, Harry was the one to storm out, seething with supressed rage and disappointment. What had he been expecting, after all? Certainly not an amicable parting after months of effort and mental strain, not a chance. His determination to move on yet unshaken, Elysia's disapproval was enough to make him put off his departure for a few days in doubt, at which point he was saved the effort of making up his mind by the intervening hand of circumstance, which woke him up in the middle of the night in the form of a Mason-shaped shadow.

'Harry!' he whispered, shaking him frantically and pushing his glasses roughly onto his face.

'What…Mason, what time is it?' he groaned, attempting to roll back over onto his side.

'You have to go' he said in a low voice, picking up Harry's things from the floor and piling them into a careless heap on top of the blanket. 'I don't know why and I have no idea how but the guards, they're here…That neighbour must have tipped them off…'

'What, here?' said Harry in an answering whisper, stumbling to his feet and grabbing his luggage which the other boy had wrapped haphazardly in the bed covers. 'How did they' –

'I heard them break in from my room. I don't even know if mum's up yet…' he said, pulling the trap door open as quietly as possible as the floorboards above them began to shake. Sure enough, distant footsteps could be heard overhead. Harry pulled on his shoes hastily and followed Mason down the hidden stairway without another word.

It was cooler here. They managed to make it to the end of the corridor in silence before they saw the approach of the guards behind them, accompanied by raised shouts and the mellow glow of torches at their heels.

'Come on!' said Mason as the two of them broke out into a run.

'What the hell…' exclaimed Harry in surprise as the sound of gunfire broke out behind them. 'What happened to traditional?'

'I told you! Oh, forget it' panted Mason as the two of them rounded another corner. They seemed to run for miles before the tunnel opened up into a wider crevice and out into a thicket. For the first time in months, Harry could see mountains in the distance.

'You should…be fine…to travel from here' said Mason, leaning forward on his knees to catch his breath. 'We should have trained for this...'

'What about you?' asked Harry worriedly, keeping one eye on the tunnel entrance in the light of a purpling night sky as he pulled the home box from his pile of belongings.

'It's you they hate. Besides, it's not the first time I've been found burrowing under the town late at night' said Mason with a lopsided grin, pulling himself up and looking at Harry uncertainly. 'Good luck, I guess'.

'Thank you' said Harry, pulling him into a quick but sincere hug, still conscious of the guards on their tail. 'For everything. If it wasn't for you, I'd have cracked months ago'.

'Well, there's still time yet'.

'Mason' –

'Go!'

Harry gave a final smile before pressing down firmly on that portentous red button, feeling the shock of teleportation run through his system like a rush of static.

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The first thing he noticed was that he was a little out of practice when it came to teleporting gracefully.

It was a skill which River had painstakingly fostered in him so as not to diminish the necessary histrionics of their arrival, which was often both unexpected and highly illegal (necessary to the archaeologist, in any case; River swore that the melodrama saved them ammunition in the long run, but even at ten years old Harry didn't quite buy that excuse).

Cheap and cheerful time travel it may be, but Harry would still take being hurled bodily through the time vortex via box over vortex manipulation any day. His hair was unruly enough as it was. In any case, he swayed dangerously on his feet as he rematerialized and began to take in his surroundings.

The second thing he noticed was that this most definitely was not the TARDIS.

'You humans, you're all blind… in the visually impaired sense, as well – as – the being stupid sense…'

Harry was discombobulated enough not to fully process the words, spinning on his heels dumbly. Instead of the welcoming gold and turquoise glow he had been expecting, he was standing next to an angular console, dark grey and metallic with neon lights shining from all sides and a deep red emanating from the central pillar. And were those Gallifreyan symbols rotating above his head?

'What is the one place that children are told never to look? The sun. Hundreds of thousands of years of human evolution and your tiny, delicate eyes are still faulty when it comes to looking outside in the morning' –

Harry heard the voice before he spotted its owner, back turned and rooting through bookshelves on a platform above him.

'Nobody look at that great big burning thing in the sky! That's humans for you, missing the obvious because they're too busy reading about faces on the internet' –

'I'm sorry… what's wrong with the sun?' said Harry in bewilderment, looking uncertainly at the chalkboard to his left where someone had scribbled Hubble's Law next to a game of hangman.

'What's wrong with it?!' repeated the man, who Harry could now see was grey-haired, tall and dressed all in black as he walked along the railing and down the steps to look at a screen on the opposite side. 'For all we know, it's the most efficient surveillance scheme this planet has ever seen, or not seen as it turns out…'

Harry was hardly listening, having frozen at the sight of the white phone box door. Panic was beginning to settle in, the man's words drowned out by the rushing sound in his ears because this was definitely a TARDIS. But that was impossible – unless – had the Doctor sent Harry to the Master's TARDIS?! Last he knew, the Master had been driven insane and this man certainly looked unhinged –

'Then again, maybe I've just spent the last two weeks stranded in Medieval Rutland' considered the man, still not looking at Harry. 'Which is even worse than you're imagining, by the way'.

Harry's eyes flitted between the pile of books running up the steps and the flashing lights on the panel in front of him, then back to the man's face.

'Something clever's bound to happen soon' he rambled. 'Either that or I take up scrapbooking…and no one in the universe wants that' –

Suddenly everything fell into place for Harry, his mouth falling open at the undeniable truth.

'You're the Doctor' he realised.

The Time Lord fell silent and looked up at Harry as if noticing him for the first time.

'How long have you been standing there?' he asked, sounding far too calm.

'Since you started talking at me' said Harry with the beginnings of irritation (which helped to steady him through the wooziness that had begun to set in with his shock). 'You weren't going to reintroduce yourself, then?'

'I thought you were Clara'.

'Oh, that's nice….' said Harry, running his hands through his hair as if it would help to declutter his racing thoughts. 'I've grown three inches, if you haven't noticed'.

'Ah' said the Doctor as if remembering something. 'Speaking of growth…'

He opened a drawer at one of the surrounding panels and pulled out a box wrapped in blue paper while the ringing in Harry's ears continued on.

'We missed your birthday while you were at rehab for possessed people' he said dryly, handing it to Harry with a stiffness in his movements that Harry didn't recognise.

Harry opened the lid to find an identical pair of square-framed glasses to those he had worn since childhood.

'Thanks, but I already have glasses' he said numbly.

'But these are better – these are sonic' said the Doctor with feeling. 'You can use them to open doors and turn on the telly without standing up'.

'You're not usually this nice, are you?' said Harry, considering him closely. 'I'm guessing you wrapped this before…the eyebrows'.

'What makes you say that?' said the Doctor defensively.

'The grimace you're wearing right now' said Harry, smiling despite himself.

'Well, can you really blame me? There's a great big bow on it' complained the Doctor. Harry laughed and exchanged his old pair for the new, examining the settings as a tangible silence settled between them.

'Is there a reason you're Scottish now?' he asked eventually.

'Not particularly'.

Another silence.

'And you think the sun's spying on us?'

'I've no idea. Let's find out, shall we?'

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Clara woke up begrudgingly to find the room still encased in early morning darkness, the thin curtains letting in a faint orange glow from the street lamps outside. Frowning in annoyance, she burrowed further into the warm bed clothes, curling up against the pyjama clad back lying next to her.

'Danny' she whispered, poking him in the shoulder.

'What is it?' he answered groggily, stubbornly refusing to open his eyes.

'I heard a noise'.

'That's nice' he mumbled into his pillow.

'I heard something outside the door. Could be a break-in' she said, giving him another poke for good measure when he failed to respond. 'Go on, soldier'.

'Don't you moonlight as a time traveller?' he said, rolling over tiredly. 'It's probably just the Doctor'.

'Not bloody likely. I warned him about middle of the night visits. I just lived two days in a row, remember?' she said, her voice persuasively hoarse with exhaustion and her eyes still clamped tightly shut. 'He's not completely devoid of self-preservation…'

'Alright' groaned Danny, leaning over to kiss Clara's forehead as she gave her best impression of someone who had been sleeping peacefully all along.

Stepping blindly through the pile of clothes at the foot of the bed, Danny staggered through the hallway and into the lounge which was similarly thief-free. Yawning widely, he pushed open the kitchen door and turned on the light. The black-haired boy, who seemed to have fallen asleep sitting up at the kitchen table in front of an open container of ice cream, woke abruptly, his eyes widening in alarm as they met Danny's.

'I wasn't going to eat all of this' he protested, pulling himself up from the table where a small pool of melted ice cream had formed and left a stain on his right sleeve. He rubbed his eyes as if trying to wake himself up. 'There wasn't any milk for tea, see... Wait, is this your flat?' he asked, as if the thought had just occurred to him.

'Clara?' called Danny loudly, it being too early in the morning to make much sense of this.

'What?' she said, coming around the corner in a light blue dressing gown and stilling at the kitchen doorway with a look of surprise.

'Did you know there was a teenager in your kitchen?' asked Danny.

'Harry?' said Clara in confusion, turning to look at her boyfriend in an effort to explain. 'Oh, Harry, he's…'

'I'm her brother' offered Harry, noticing Clara's difficulty.

'You didn't know this was her flat' said Danny suspiciously.

'I'm her amnesiac brother' amended Harry without missing a beat.

'No, Harry, it's okay' interceded Clara quickly. 'This is Danny, he's my boyfriend. And Harry…Harry travels with the Doctor as well'.

'Nice to meet you' said Harry, quickly jumping up and wiping his sleeve on his jacket to offer his hand, turning to look curiously at Clara as he did so. 'You told a normal?'

'The Doctor didn't give me much of a choice' said Clara under her breath and Harry nodded in understanding. 'Is he here too?'

'Oh…no – Listen, I'm sorry to just show up like this. We got split up at the Natural History Museum; the dinosaur exhibit' said Harry, leaning back uncomfortably against the counter top as if conscious that awkwardness could break out at any moment.

'How was it?' asked Danny. 'I'm going with the Level Tens next week, the butterfly exhibit is supposed to be wonderful'.

'Oh, it is' said Harry, tensing slightly. 'I wouldn't go there for a while, though'.

'Oh?' asked Clara.

'It's probably fine' he tried to reassure them. 'Or it will be by next weekend. Just a bit of… spontaneous reanimation' –

'The butterflies?' asked Danny with raised eyebrows.

'The dinosaurs' Harry corrected him. 'Although dead butterflies flying about the place doesn't sound great either…'

'Right, well I might just leave you to it then, if everything's okay here' said Danny, looking at Clara for confirmation.

'Night' called out Harry, looking nervously at Clara once Danny had wandered off to try and get some sleep. 'What's it like?' he asked, elaborating at Clara's blank look. 'Having a life at the same time'.

'I'll tell you when I figure it out' said Clara honestly, grabbing a glass of water.

'Again, sorry about the short notice' said Harry. 'I've been meaning to come over for a while, but, er… When I say we got split up, I mean the Doctor almost definitely left me behind so I'd come here and apologise'.

'Apologise?' asked Clara, momentarily thrown.

'For being horrible to you at Torchwood. Which I was' he said, wincing slightly at the memory.

Funny, I don't remember you being horrible' said Clara. 'I remember you being in a lot of pain'.

'Well, I'm all better now' smiled Harry, brushing off her concern not altogether convincingly. 'I'm lucky I made it here in the first place. The Doctor texted me the address and you could tell he was running away while he wrote it… I had to fill in a lot of blanks'.

'The Doctor has a mobile?' asked Clara, both affronted and guilty that she was feeling jealous of a sixteen-year-old boy. She had tried to buy the Doctor a phone countless times but – despite her assertions that any loss of credibility was worth it if it meant avoiding mix ups like the one that had left her marooned on an abandoned air carrier last month – he kept 'accidentally' chucking them into supernovas.

'I'm texting him now' said Harry, pulling his hand out of his jacket to reveal a small phone.

'What's he saying, then?' asked Clara, pulling out a chair. 'Remind him that I haven't had a decent night's sleep in three days'.

'He's saying… 'It's five in the morning – shouldn't you be up already anyway, burning soufflés and making giant eyes at yourself in the mirror?' I have no idea what that means' said Harry, squinting in confusion at the screen before giving up with a laugh and joining Clara at the table. 'He's fairly rude this time around, isn't he?'

'He's always been rude' laughed Clara. 'He's just never enjoyed it quite this much…How are you taking all of that?' she asked, picking up a spoon and digging into the semi-frozen tub between them.

'The regeneration?' asked Harry lightly. 'Well, I'm not mad about the new wardrobe' –

'I meant the new face'.

'I know what you meant' said Harry, not looking at her in favour of concentrating on the spoon in his hand. 'I dunno… it suits him' he went on. 'It almost makes sense, doesn't it? I feel different. Maybe it'd help to have a different face… Less reminders'.

Clara looked at him thoughtfully before shaking her head. 'No, yours suits you as well. Do you mind if I ask…?' she said, pointing vaguely at his forehead.

'It's under control' said Harry and Clara noticed something like contentment light up his face for the first time. 'No more magic tricks, though. Although there might always be a certain level at the surface. Like static' he rambled before noticing Clara's yawn. 'Sorry, you should probably try and get some sleep as well… You've got that life to get back to'.

'And what'll you do?'

'I dunno' said Harry carelessly. 'Overthink things. I'll probably finish this ice cream as well if that's okay. Why, do you want to join me?' he asked with raised eyebrows.

'Well…' said Clara pulling her legs up to sit cross legged on the chair and wiping melted chocolate from her upper lip. 'Since I'm up'.

A/N: So a transition of sorts, with more fluff than I'm generally comfortable with :D Hope you enjoyed it anyway! Just one mini-adventure to go and then on with the head-exploding paradoxes. A brief cameo from the Wizarding World up ahead, which will probably last the rest of the story, so... bear with me...