Beta-read by the fantastic YouCleverBoys. :)

"Martha?" called Rose, as she and the Doctor walked into a kitchen that was just as notably empty as the rest of the house. She set her grocery bags down on a countertop and looked at him. "What's the deal? They should be home, yeah?"

Shrugging, the Doctor tossed his own bags next to hers. "Maybe something came up."

"But Mickey had us pick up this food so they wouldn't have to run out." Rose frowned, gnawing on her thumbnail, and leaned back against a cabinet. "It's weird."

The Doctor went and stood in front of her, chin tucked, and smiled down at her like a loon. "Well, what do you suggest we do about it, Rose Tyler? Organize a search party?" He prodded at her shoe with his own. "Start stapling up the missing person's posters?"

She fought a smile, but it broke free anyway. "You're daft."

"I know."

Daft was an understatement. He was practically buzzing with pent-up energy, his head so full of her there wasn't space for much else. One little trip with Rose Tyler, one meager hour of entwined hands, and the Doctor was hard pressed to remember when he'd last felt so bloody brilliant. The last thing anyone would catch him complaining about was an unexpected chance to be properly alone with her.

Glancing down, he eyed her hand, dangling so close to his, only the ends of her fingers poking out of the over-long sleeve's ratty edge. Boldly, he brushed the side of his pinky against her wrist, the gesture soft and then deliberate, asking permission. Her smile gave it, and then her hand was back where he wanted it, tucked into his own.

"Suppose you're all eager to get to work, now that we've got this thing?" Rose rooted in her jeans pocket with her free hand, sounding adorably flustered, and then held out the procured antenna, a small, silvery, tube-shaped object.

He took it, humming non-committally, and readjusted his grip on her hand. 'Getting to work' was, in truth, quite low on his list of priorities right now. What he'd confessed on the train was true- his hopes for them had lodged somewhere in the heavens, and though his rational side was sounding a warning (too quick, don't rush) it was rapidly being drowned out by an ever-surging flood of want.

Loving Rose and pursuing her had shown itself to be quite a different beast than loving Rose from afar. His own reactions felt unpredictable, and were far, far harder to tame. Especially now that Rose had promised to open up about her past and include him in her choices, his hearts were convinced that his impossible dream was a hairsbreadth from becoming truth. All he wanted to do was get on with it. To get the last issues standing between them settled, to have her officially back in his life.

To have her officially his.

As he was about to suggest a retreat to the lounge, motion outside the window caught his eye. The Doctor raised up on his toes for a better look, and couldn't help a sigh of profound disappointment when he realized what it was. "Well, Rose, worry no more, because I've just found our missing Smiths." He nodded toward the window. "And they've got company."

Tugging him along, Rose went to peer out over the sink, her lips going tight. "God, why couldn't Mick have warned me that they were having people over?"

"Who are they?" The Doctor could make out four adult figures at the very back of the garden. Mickey was one of them; he and a shorter man were tossing a brown, oblong ball back and forth.

"And Kyle, of all people?" Rose went on, somewhat answering his question though she seemed not to have heard him. "Why is he here? Mickey doesn't even like him. Nobody does." Rose's eyes met the Doctor's, a deep line between her brows. "So now what? How are we supposed to sneak past them to the TARDIS so we can get at least a little work done today?"

He scratched at his ear. "Can't we just say hello and then go on by?" He failed to see why she was upset about it. To him, the Smith's having company just meant that Martha and Mickey wouldn't be able to follow them out to the TARDIS.

Cocking her head, Rose gave him a look which implied that he was very, very thick. "You mean into the woods?"

"Lots of people like to traipse through the woods. It's a nice day. Let them think we're just going for a walk."

Rose bit her bottom lip, looking reluctant. A few seconds went by, then it dawned on him. "You're scared to introduce me!"

Her lips pursed, a tiny bit. "No, not 'scared'. Just...I dunno."

"Oi, I can be a normal bloke," he argued, petulant.

Rose raised her brows, fiddling with an earring. "And I have years of evidence that says otherwise. But...s'not that, not really." Her gaze slid down to their linked hands. "Matt -he's the one sitting out there, on the bench- he's good friends with Mick but he's also head of my team, at UNIT, so I see him quite a lot. And he..."

"Yes?"

"I'm pretty sure he fancies me."

And with that, every bit of sunshine was blotted by clouds. "Well, of course he does."

Jaw going tight, the Doctor's eyes drifted to the tiny antenna in his free hand and he ran his thumb over it, back and forth. Perhaps there was some way they could sneak out to the TARDIS after all. Sharing her with friends was one thing, but he'd already had more than his daily dose of watching some other bloke look at her.

"C'mon," said Rose, giving his fingers a few quick squeezes, as if to remind him just whose hand it was she was holding. "Did I say I fancy him back? I just mean that it'll be awkward. He's great, really kind and lovely, and I don't want to rub anything in his face. But he's bound to read into you an' me, especially if we go off together."

The Doctor gazed into her brown eyes, his own beginning to sparkle as he grasped her meaning. "Okay," he said, trailing a finger over his chin, "I think I get it. Blimey. Never thought this would happen." Puffing his cheeks, he exhaled toward the ceiling.

"'This?' What're you on about now?"

At Rose's puzzled look he grinned at her, outright. "Finally, I'm your new pretty boy. Brilliant."

Rose tipped her head back, and then snorted out a laugh. Dropping his hand, she took him by the upper arm, and steered him toward the back door. "Oh, shut it. Let's just get this over with, okay? And be nice!"

The swinging screen-door creaked as they pushed through it into the late afternoon sun, cool wind ruffling their hair. Martha, seated down at the fire-pit, was the first to spot them and she waved enthusiastically, shielding her eyes from the sun. One of the two strangers, a thin young man with wavy dark hair, sitting on the log bench opposite Martha, waved too, albeit hesitantly, after a bewildered look at the Doctor.

The other unknown bloke, whose stocky build and small, glittering eyes made him somewhat resemble a pitbull, paid them no mind at all, as he was too busy yelling at Mickey. "Back up!" he shouted, two or three times, finally flinging the ball his way. The Doctor paused, watching the ball's tight spin as it cut cleanly through the air. It fell a bit short and Mickey ran forward, deftly snatching it just before it hit the ground.

"Ooh, close one!" called Rose to him across the yard. Mickey gave her a thumbs up, before heaving back and returning the ball to his friend.

Charlie was there too, digging a stick into the dirt at his mother's feet, and went running to Rose as soon as he heard her voice. The Doctor smiled as she scooped the little boy into a hug, settling him on her hip as they made their way to the two seated at the fire-pit.

"Kyle brought us a load of firewood," said Martha, launching into an immediate explanation. "His sister had a tree cut down last week."

"Ah," replied Rose, setting the wriggly Charlie down and looking toward the stacks of freshly cut wood, piled at the tree line's edge. "Hi, Matt."

"I came as a buffer," the skinny American told her, glancing in a theatric fashion across the lawn to the shorter, stocky man. "Though I must say, Kyle's in a pretty good mood today. Hasn't made any death threats yet." Rose snickered and the man flashed her a warm, easy grin, one that spoke of things like long familiarity and inside jokes. A swell of jealousy had the Doctor shifting forward, until his left bicep brushed the back of Rose's shoulder. He rejoiced inwardly when the other bloke's smile went tight at the corners.

"Matt," said Rose, after the Doctor nudged her. "I'd like you to meet-"

"John Smith," interjected the Doctor, sticking a hand out. He straightened as the other man stood to meet him, and did not rejoice to discover himself the shorter of the two.

"Matt Barclay." His handshake was firm without being overbearing, and he studied the Doctor, as if they'd possibly met before. "So, you're another Smith? You Mickey's long-lost brother or something?" He tossed a grin at Mickey, who had just come up alongside them with the other man in tow.

"He wishes," replied Mickey, as the Doctor was trying to determine if Barclay was joking or simply obtuse. "He's only here because-"

"John's an old friend of ours," Martha supplied hurriedly. "He, um, works for UNIT too, back in London. He's visiting."

"Another U.N.I.T. Brit, huh?" said Pitbull-man without bothering to introduce himself, though his accent told the Doctor he was Brooklyn born and raised. "That mean you're as much of an alien-worshipper as these other three are?"

"Knock it off, Kyle," spat Rose immediately, Martha and Mickey chorusing similar reproofs while the Doctor simply blinked at the man. "For the hundredth time, none of us wanna hear it."

"I tell ya, that sort of attitude's why the UK has ten times the alien activity the US does," he continued, either fantastically brave or too stupid to be intimidated by Rose's flared nostrils. "You people let 'em get away with anything. Don't be surprised if you end up with an alien for your next Prime Minister."

"No chance," replied the Doctor smoothly, folding his arms across his chest. "Not again, anyway."

Kyle looked as if he didn't appreciate any such joke. "And of course you don't play football either."

The Doctor brightened. "Actually, I'm quite good at football-"

"Riiiiight," said Mickey, cutting him off. "Besides, he means American football." He passed the ball back and forth between his hands. "Kyle here thinks he's gonna be the next wide receiver for the New York Jets." He smirked. "Or at least he would do, if he could get some practice in, but apparently nobody can throw him any proper passes."

"Shut up, Smith. Just because you don't enjoy a challenge doesn't mean I don't. Although Barclay over here won't even try."

Annoyance seeped through Barclay's cheery facade. "Only because I hear enough of your yelling at work, Daniels."

"So this is a game that consists of...throwing, primarily?" asked the Doctor, nipping the ball away from Mickey, who glared at him before nodding. "Why is this called a football, then?"

Kyle stared at him in disgust. "Are you serious?"

The Doctor held the ball up, inspecting it for a moment before replying. "So you don't know either, eh? Perhaps it's just another one of those weird, human-y things that just make no sense, like- ow!" He looked at Rose, whose (surprisingly sharp) elbow had just jabbed his ribs. "What?"

"We should go, yeah?" Rose gave him a meaningful look. "John and I planned on takin' a bit of a walk before it gets too dark," she said, addressing Martha more than anyone else. "We'll see ya later."

Ignoring her tug on his coat sleeve and Barclay's narrowed eyes, the Doctor continued to study the football, fitting one of its smaller ends into his hands. "How far is a 'proper pass'?"

"A good fifty yards," Kyle condescended to reply. "Sometimes they're sixty yards or more. Oh, and a yard, if you're wondering, is slightly less than a meter."

"Lord, he knows that, Daniels," defended Rose, her hand pressing on the Doctor's arm just above his elbow, hard, as if she were trying to physically move him. "No need to be rude. It's just a stupid game."

For the first time, the man's perpetually stubborn expression shifted into outright irritation. "You know what's really stupid, Prentice? That move of yours last week, when you-"

"Projectile motion," interrupted the Doctor, loud, trying to keep the edge of anger from his voice. "The physics of a football pass. The ball follows a parabolic path; vertical movement influenced by the force of gravity. Of course wind speed and direction, as well at the football's rotation and velocity, also factor in." Wetting a finger, he held it up, testing the wind.

"All the brains in the world aren't gonna get that ball from one end of the field to the other if you don't have the brawn to pull it off."

"All right. Sixty yards. Go on, then." The Doctor made a little shooing motion with his fingers.

The man stared at him incredulously for a moment, then snorted. "Yeah, whatever you say, buddy," he said, trotting off. "This should be good."

"Don't," said Rose and Martha, in unison. "Let's just go," Rose went on.

"Kyle's arrogant enough as it is," added Martha.

"Farther," called the Doctor, hand cupped to the side of his mouth. "That's only 58.5 yards."

Kyle shook his head and moved back a few paces.

The Doctor leaned back, extending his arm just so, and with a slight twist of his upper body, sent the football sailing in a perfect spiral. It lifted, hung, and then arched back down, finally connecting with the middle of Daniels' chest with such force that he stumbled backward.

A split second later, Martha and Mickey whooped, their fists in the air. Barclay stared at him, wide-eyed. Rose was strangely silent.

"See," he said to Mickey, darting an uneasy glance Rose's way. "I told you I was good at football. Even, apparently, the...footless sort."

"Nice one, Boss!" The Doctor grinned at Mickey, slapping his hand as the two of them watched Kyle cross back over the neighbor's lawn.

Then the Doctor turned his grin on Rose, though it faltered a bit when he found her looking less than impressed. "Ready for our walk?" he asked, tugging his ear.

"Are you?" Rose crossed her arms. "Cause I can sit here and chat with Mar if you're not done playing."

Were they having a spat now? He wasn't sure. "I'm...done?"

With a smile and a "see ya later" for everyone else, Rose took off for the path in the woods without bothering to check if he was following.

"Did I...do something wrong?" the Doctor ventured, once the thick swatch of trees hid them from the rest of the group.

Relaxing her folded arms, Rose sighed. "You just couldn't let the football thing go, could you?"

He shrugged, kicking up matted leaves with his boot-toe. "Why does it matter? Bloke had it coming. I...I didn't like him speaking to you like that."

"I'm a big girl, Doctor, and I don't care what people like him say. Thing is, you know that humans...typically, they can't do things, throw a football like that, without any practice. So now they're wondering about you. They were gonna be curious enough already, just because you were new, and with me. Anyway. Why couldn't you have just pretended to be, I dunno, a tiny bit boring, for once?"

He wrinkled up his nose, and gave her an apologetic look.

"Don't know why I'm surprised," she went on, her tone softening. "He could never do it either. Torchwood- they were so uptight about aliens, in that world. Anyway, he knew that, and my dad had who knows how many chats with him about it, and you know what he did his first day on the job? Disappeared from a meeting to be found hours later in the sub-basement, having taken it upon himself to free nearly half of our off-world detainees."

The Doctor chuckled. "Sounds like me."

Just ahead, the blue of the TARDIS was bright amongst the shadows, and the Doctor snapped his fingers. As the door creaked open, Rose giggled and he smiled, glad she at least appreciated that particular trick. "He tried for years to get our TARDIS to do that, but she won't. Too tetchy, I guess."

"She does mellow as she ages." The Doctor pushed the door open wide, allowing Rose to enter his ship ahead of him, mind whirring. Her TARDIS was tetchy? Perhaps even more difficult to pilot than his own? Ever since he found her at Martha and Mickey's he had wondered why she was living there, why she had given up traveling. He kept forgetting to ask.

Only Rose was already at the work-table on the opposite side of the room, and it didn't feel right to have a shouted conversation about it. He made his way to the side computer panel that he'd reconfigured to be base transceiver, and fished the little antenna out of his pocket. It shouldn't take him much time to install it. Then he could join her in piecing together the remote relay, and they could begin to talk properly.

As he worked, hands full of coloured wires, his mind's eye was full of ideas for later tonight- shared laughter while he cooked dinner, them settling down in the library or the media room, snug in one of the cushy sofas. It would be the perfect setting for a long, air-clearing conversation, quiet and intimate and uninterrupted. The only flaw in his plan was that Rose might worry about what the visitors would think if they didn't return. But surely he could figure out some way around it.

"Here it is!" Rose called after a bit, and he turned around to find her waving her hand around, finally wearing that little white glove on it. "Thought I lost this."

"And here I thought you were just being Rose Tyler stubborn," he replied, quickly replacing a metal panel on the computer.

As Rose poked her tongue out at him he felt his blood instantly heat, and Rassilon, it was a good thing she was all the way over on the other side of the sodding room. Made him almost rethink his plans for the snug-sofa-seating.

A small, flashing light on the console caught his attention, and he sucked in a breath. "Oh, that's right. I forgot to check the message."

Tilting her head, Rose followed his gaze. "Is that what that is? S'different on my console. I thought it was just an indicator light. It was blinking all day yesterday. You didn't ever notice it?"

"No," he replied, as he reached it, and pulled the corded phone receiver out from a small indentation underneath the console's curve. "I must have been...distracted, I suppose."

"Distracted?" Her tone was low, teasing. "You? Never."

The Doctor pretended offense as he lifted the phone to his ear. "Quiet," he chided her, putting a finger over his lips and trying his best to listen.

There were six low beeps, and his smile slowly faded. He had six messages? Could that be right?

"Doctor," came a woman's voice as the first one began playing. "Kate Stewart here. Wednesday, tenth of October."

What he heard next caught him entirely off-guard. Clara, gone missing? Taken? Phone still to his ear, he backed up and lowered himself onto a jump-seat, rubbing at a sore spot between his brows as he absorbed every last detail. Rose settled beside him, watching him with deep concern on her face, questions in her eyes. He shook his head, indicating with a hand for her to wait.

The next message began to play- Kate again, next day, more of the same. As was the next message, and the next. Until-

"Doctor!" He bolted upright as Clara's voice came through the receiver. "I don't know where you are or what you're doing, but for god's sake, would you please answer your bloody phone! Anyway, I'm fine...safe, and all that, but you might not be, if you don't get this message. Don't go to the house, okay? I'm not there, and...well, I'll explain it all when I see you. Please ring my mobile and I'll tell you where to come get me."

Slowly, he took the phone from his ear, eyes finding a troubled Rose. "Clara was abducted."

Her mouth went slack and he rushed to clarify. "Was. She's safe now, no thanks to me. That's all I know. Clara...probably she escaped on her own or something. She's a clever girl."

"But why? Why would someone...take her?"

He sighed, cradling the phone in his hands. "Because of her connection to me, apparently. Her abductors called UNIT same time every day, threatening her life if I didn't show up." Guilt had him on his feet and, shoulders hunched, he paced in a short path in front of her. "Six messages, Rose. Six since Wednesday, and I didn't get them till now. What if those people had followed through, and, and-"

"They didn't," said Rose, planting herself in his path. "Clara's fine. And anyway, they wouldn't have hurt her, you know that. Not without getting what they wanted from you. Do you have any idea what that might be?"

Eyes tracking the pulsing light of the Time Rotor, the Doctor's thoughts drifted, his curiosity not at all stirred by her last question. Whatever it was that this mysterious 'they' desired to obtain from him -be it revenge, power, his cold corpse on a slab- it mattered not, and they weren't much likely to get it anyway. But using one of his companions to try and get at him? That had fury beginning a slow simmer under his skin, and as his eyes met Rose's again, a new worry added itself to his disquiet. What if Clara was not the only friend of his that they knew about?

His thoughts must have bled onto his face because understanding suddenly crossed Rose's, and she took hold of his wrist. "Don't start worrying about me, Doctor. As far as this world knows, Rose Tyler is dead, remember?"

"Right, but you're not dead, you're living in the same house as two of my old friends."

"Friends who are also trained soldiers, as am I. We can take care of ourselves." Ignoring his dubious expression, she went on. "Besides, if they abducted your current companion, it's not likely that they have the slightest idea of any past ones. In fact, if I were to guess, knowing you, Clara herself probably believes she's the only friend you've ever had."

The Doctor scowled, the tiniest bit, feeling like he was entitled to it because he had just mentioned Rose (well, Rose's abstract existence in his past, but it still counted) to Clara, quite recently. Yet her actual point was good- the list of humans who even knew of his existence was a short one, and spread across centuries. And out of them, most would have only met whichever friend or two he currently had tagging along, with the exception of those who worked for-

"UNIT," he said, going rigid as his mind offered up the image of a slightly built man, trembling hands wrapped around a cold, black revolver. Rapidly thinking back through the recent encounter, he emerged with a name. "Jenkins. Stuart Jenkins. He was UNIT." He hit his forehead with the heel of his hand. "Stupid!"

"Who?"

"A man who works for UNIT, their London division," he told her, pacing again, wringing his hands. "Few weeks back, he found me by hacking their system. Came after me with a gun. All this time I've thought it meant nothing, that he was just a grieving man who made a bad decision. But somebody put him up to it. Had to have. He was so scared, I could tell he didn't want-"

"Slow down, Doctor, you've lost me."

"His wife died," he explained softly, going to her. "And...he wanted me to change it. He didn't understand."

"Oh," she replied, voice soft with sympathy.

"Anyway," he went on, not wanting her to have to dwell on such a subject, "it makes sense that the abductors would include a person with a UNIT ties. I have to find out who these people are, Rose. Because if they have intelligence from UNIT, then potentially, anyone associated with me could be in danger."

Rose knew exactly what he was once again hinting at. "I'll warn Mickey and Martha, okay? But we will be fine. What do you expect, Doctor? That we request security detail from the very organization we work for? Or do you want us to move onto the TARDIS until this is resolved?"

"Well," he said, playing with a coat button, "maybe not Mickey."

Rose chuckled, and then schooled her features into a stern look. "What I want to hear is how you're gonna stay safe."

He spluttered. "Me? I'm the one who needs to put a stop to this."

Rose's hands went to her hips. "Yes, yes, I get that, but you're also the one they're actually after! Just...I know you, all right? I know how reckless you can be sometimes. So don't go traipsing about London like you always do, assuming you're going unrecognized. Believing that the people after you are stupid, other things like that. Yeah?"

"Fine," he replied, slumping down on the jump-seat, just then realizing that the corded phone was still clutched in one hand. He looked at it, then back up at Rose. "Suppose if I want to find out if I'm right about all this, I'd best go after Clara," he said, regret heavy in his voice as he realized he'd probably have to do so immediately. He'd built up rainbow expectations for this evening with Rose, and it was almost painful to think of giving it up. Doubly painful, to know that Rose would now likely spend it with someone else. That...that Matt bloke, with his tallness and his too-white smile and his 'fancying', who overall reminded the Doctor far too much of his last self for comfort.

"Right," replied Rose, and he was immensely gratified to see that she looked every bit as disappointed as he felt. "Suppose I'll just-" She gestured with her thumb toward the door.

"You could stay." The words escaped him before he could think.

A funny look crossed her face, before she covered over it with a smile. "C'mon, Doctor, think of your friend. She's just been kidnapped. Best not add another shock to the mix, yeah?"

He didn't respond, turning the phone over in his hands as she made her way to the door. "See you Saturday?" she asked, hand on the knob.

"Bright and early. No sleeping late for you, Rose Tyler."

"Oh," she said, after she stepped out, peering back through the doorway. "You forgot your groceries in the house."

With a smirk, he shoved a hand in his pocket and pulled out a single banana, then a second and a third. "Ha, got 'em right here. Never say I don't plan ahead."

"When did you do that?"

"On the train, right before disembarking. But even so, there were still too many bags, so I couldn't-" Eyes widening, he cut himself off, realizing what he'd nearly admitted out loud.

"Couldn't what?" The set of her jaw told him there was no way he was getting away with it.

He rubbed at the back of his neck, wincing with embarrassment. "Couldn't keep on holding your hand."

Rose laughed, a pretty, surprised sound. "Was a pity, that."

Then the door creaked shut and she was gone. The Doctor marched himself to the console, ignoring the strong inclination to wallow. He was sorry for what happened to Clara, but she was safe now, and besides, she'd been through scarier situations because of him. Selfish as it was, he was more concerned with how long this annoyance would take to resolve, so he'd be able to focus his attention where he wanted it- on him and Rose.

The TARDIS slipped into the vortex, and he dialed Clara's mobile.

"You don't know how glad I am to finally have access to the wardrobe room," said Clara, dumping her knapsack on one of the jump-seats. "A soldier from UNIT fetched a few things from the house for me, while I was staying in the hotel, and he didn't pack any jumpers- goodness, have you had monkeys in here?" She picked up a banana from the pile he'd tossed on the seat.

"Never mind those, you were telling me why he let you go?"

"I don't think he ever wanted part of it in the first place. I got the impression that Stuart was...in way over his head, I suppose. I fear for him if any of the others find out how I got free."

After a lengthy chat with Kate Stewart and a few other UNIT higher-ups, the Doctor and Clara had returned to the vortex. He, for once, had been quite happy to find them a few steps ahead of him- with the intel from Clara, Jenkins' home had already been searched (abandoned, no surprise there), and secret security detail had been placed on the homes of both Sarah Jane and Donna. Artie and Angie's father had decided this would be a good time for their family to visit his sister in Scotland.

Maybe UNIT would track the abductors down for him too, and he could get on with-

"...so this will be sort of nice," he heard Clara saying. "Like a trial run."

"Sorry, what? Must've spaced out there, for a bit. This will be a trial run for what?"

Clara gave him a look, with those big eyes of hers. "For traveling with you full-time. You didn't hear me say that? I've been thinking about it for a while now; giving up nannying. And since I can't exactly go home now anyway, not until this is all resolved, it will be like a nice trial run."

The Doctor froze a bit, willing his face to show some semblance of happiness. Indeed, at one time this news would have thrilled him; he'd long missed having people live onboard his TARDIS. But now, he was nothing but dismayed.

"This why you weren't answering your phone?" asked Clara, thankfully distracted by the items on the table where he and Rose had been assembling the cannon. "Looks like you've been busy. What is all this stuff?"

"Oh, just a portable teleport," he said, the lie automatic. But really, wasn't he just digging himself a deeper hole to climb out of later on? Clara had nowhere else to go, not until this group of nasties was off the streets. And unless that happened within the next few days, Clara would still be onboard his TARDIS when he returned to see Rose.

He went to the console, fiddling with levers, pretending to be busy as he considered it. Clara, at least, knew of Rose's existence. A bit. Unlike Amy. He cringed as he remembered her reaction, her hurt and anger, at unexpectedly meeting his long-lost love.

"Now get over here, you moron, and you better make yourself mighty comfortable, because you have a helluva lot of explaining to do."

There was no way Clara's response would be that dramatic, he decided.

Far more concerning would be Rose's reaction. Would meeting his companion make her draw away from him again, even if he made certain that they had some privacy? Would she be jealous? Suddenly he smiled to himself, imagining Rose becoming a bit...possessive.

"What's this?" He looked over to find Clara had wandered back to the jump-seat, and was holding a bundle of soft white fabric in her hands. The tee-shirt. His eyes darted about, calculating the distance between her and him, and his heart sank as he realized there was no way he could prevent her getting it unfolded. Why had he taken that blasted thing out of his pocket in the first place?

"I Love New York?" Clara read, confused. When she looked up at him, her eyes were brimming with hurt. "You...you went to New York without me?"

"That's..." he hesitated, hands flailing, like they were trying to pull words from the air. "That's for you. It was meant to be a surprise."

She blinked, frowning, still confused. "As in...you're taking me on a surprise trip to New York?"

He nodded, and watched as Clara's wounded expression grew into one of delight. "Thank you!" she exclaimed, flying across the console room to throw her arms around him.

Lamely, he patted her on the back. "Yes, yes. New York, here we come."

Again.

Think Clara and Rose's first meeting will go according to the Doctor's expectations? :)