A/N: My most sincere apologies for missing the last two days for updates. I've been sick with what I am hoping beyond all hope is just a really unfriendly cold. I haven't been able to maintain any form of focus at all ... and that will probably be a lil'bit obvious in what I've written here.

HA!

I'm trying, okay?

I know that the last two chapters were awful, and I'm sorry about that. I've been fighting this illness for over a week now, and it shows. That said: This chapter is honestly one of those filler bits. It's me finally bringing everyone together to come up against the Family. This has honestly been started and restarted and rewritten and redone several times over the past three days ... it fought me, and it came out the victor. I can't fight it anymore. If I could keep my eyes open any longer than a half hour at a time it might help ... but ... sighhhhhh ...

I do hope that I'm plugging some holes and have produced something remotely interesting here.

Hugs if you're still with me, and please all of you stay healthy and safe!

~~oooOOOooo~~

The wolf whistle that he heard from the back of the classroom Jack Harkness counted as being about the 68th he'd received since the first class this morning. Now well into the fourth period for the day, and factoring in the 20-minute morning recess, that meant that he was getting whistled at at least once every 2.94 minutes..

…A new record.

Really, though. Gloat as he might, and preen and strut in as much of a feminine manner as he could, he had to admit that it was becoming quite draining. Especially when it started to hamper his lesson for the hour. Such was a man dressing as a woman in front of a bunch of hormonal teenagers.

"Really, DJ," he muttered with a hard sigh. "You're not exactly my type, so the cat call isn't really doing you any favours."

"Sorry, Sir," he shot back with a grin. "I mean Miss. But you're just looking so…"

Jack spun and pointed his small stick of chalk toward him in warning. "I'd really suggest that you seriously consider what you're about to say. I'm not above sending you to the headmaster with an accusation of sexual harassment." He turned and dramatically flicked the length of his fire-red wig over his shoulder. "And no, I won't be your date to the ball, so save yourself the embarrassment and don't ask."

There were jeers and snickers from the class behind him, but he did his best to ignore it as he worked through the phases of mitosis on the blackboard.

"So, as I was saying before DJ decided to be an over hormonal sexist pig: Mitosis consists of four basic phases: prophase, metaphase, anaphase, and telophase. . These phases occur in strict sequential order, and cytokinesis –" He paused his lesson as a familiar sound from outside. He looked to the open door and continued his lesson, but in a much slower pace of speech. "Is the process of dividing the cell contents to make two new cells - starts in anaphase or telophase…"

Was that the whining and wheezing sound of a Gallifreyan travel capsule's relative dimensional stabilizer in materialisation mode?

"Couldn't be," he murmured to himself as he looked toward the doorway. "Surely he's not already here."

Then again, he had a time machine and a damn good reason to drop by…

One of the students raised their hand. "Hey, Sir. Got a question."

Jack set his chalk on the desk and looked toward a blonde boy, "What is it, Nick? And I swear, kid, that if it has anything to with me wearing a dress, you've got detention."

The lad opened his mouth to ask the question, but was interrupted by the pulsing chime of the school siren announcing that class was over. "Never mind, Sir. I mean Miss."

"Joke's already been made. Try again," He looked up to the class as they hurriedly packed up to go outside for lunch. "Okay, you lot. Exam tomorrow first period, Cellular structure and division – Plant and animal. Everyone be here on time. Late arrivals get a zero." He pointed toward a one of the last girls leaving the room. "Alexia, you need an A on this test to pass the course. Best you study up tonight."

"Whatever, Sir," she said with a shrug as she turned in the door to face him. She walked backward and then blew a bubble to a pop of her gum. "I'm sure you and I could come to some kind of arrang…" She peeped when she collided with Martha. "Gee," she remarked petulantly with a roll in her eyes. "Watch where you're going."

"I could say the same to you," she warned.

"Martha," Jack called as he packed up his papers and tapped them to put them in line. "Did you hear the TARDIS?"

She nodded. "I did."

"Soo if you can head him off before the old boy gets into school grounds and starts mischief." He slipped his papers into a satchel. "I'll head to the flat and pick up Rose and Mark. No doubt they'll want to leave sooner rather than later."

She nodded earnestly. "Good idea." She gave him a wink. "You might also want to change into something a little less Vegas Show Girl…"

He grinned as he flicked his red hair over his shoulder. "But why when I look so fabulous, dah-ling?"

~~oooOOOooo~~

The travel capsule he'd been sent to Earth with had barely ceased a full materialisation, and the Doctor wanted out. Despite the warning from his travel companion to wait until his capsule had finished its final materialisation safety protocols, the Doctor was at the door.

"I really do recommend that you hold off exiting until the capsule has indicated safe arrival," the young Gallifreyan soldier warned. "Opening the doors early can result in a malfunction of the Chameleon Circuit."

"I am aware of that," the Doctor replied impatiently. He opened the door, instantly shrinking back to shield himself against the brilliant lazer lighting of the capsule initiating Chameleon mode. "Oh by Rassilon."

"And of course, one can sustain rather permanent retinal damage if the Chameleon Circuit has been activated and the capsule is undergoing the change to blend into its new environment." He shrugged and powered down the machine. He didn't look at the Doctor, instead finalised a few power down checklist checks on the monitor instead. "Forgot about that, did you?"

The light outside had dimmed to nothing, and the Doctor levered a glare toward the young man who had been paired with him on this trip. He clapped his hands and forced a smile. "Right. Now that you've safely delivered me to Sol III, you best be off. I can handle it from here. Thank you for your service to Mother Gallifrey and to the Lungbarrow family." He walked out the door. "Goodbye."

The young soldier actually chuckled as he exited the door behind the Doctor. "My assignment parameters are quite specific, Lord Doctor."

"Dare I ask what they may be?" he murmured as he walked across a small and very hot shed. He held his hand upward when he finally caught sight of a twin pair of Police Box TARDISes. "Never mind answering that question, Cerulean. It was rhetorical."

The young Time Lord sighed with a roll in his eye. "For the tenth time, Sir. My name is Tomiwtraximery, not Cerulean."

He dipped two fingers into a small pocket on his waistcoat and retrieved a small gold yale key. "And as has been my response to each one of your corrections: I'm not going to make any form of concerted effort to remember that in full. Therefore, I will continue to call you Cerulean." He slid the key into the lock and looked toward the young man with bright eyes and a very bright smile. "Of course if that offends you, you're free to leave. I am more than capable of resetting the systems on my TARDIS and getting her and my family back to Gallifrey."

"Yes, I am sure you are," he countered with as fake a smile as the Doctor. "However, as to which century you intend of returning to does remain to be seen. His Honoured Cardinal Braiatel insists that you return to our immediate timeline. I am here to ensure that you do that."

The Doctor gave him a glare as he pushed open the door to the TARDIS. "I fully intend on taking my family home," he confirmed darkly. He turned to look into the ship's console room and let out a long sigh of horror at the interior of the ship. "By Rassilon…"

Tomiwtraximery weaved around the Doctor and made a similar sound of shock. "this is your Capsule? Lord Doctor, what happened to her?"

He shook his head slowly, surprise and pain etched into his features. "This one isn't mine. At least not the one I travel in now." He swallowed thickly. "This is the one my future self is piloting."

"But she's skeletal?" He walked with a slow twirl up the ramp toward the console. "I only see a capsule in this state in the cradles before they've been outfitted." He paused at the console, which looked to be a mess of hastily cobbled together switches and dials. He touched at a bicycle pump and shook his head. "Just how long has it been since he's been to Gallifrey for parts?"

He shook his head. "I have no idea, but this is unacceptable."

Tomiwtraximery folded his arms across his chest and pursed his lips with disapproval as he shook his head. "How she's still functional in this state, I have no idea."

The Doctor finally gave a shrug. "Perhaps the old girl prefers the natural look, Cerulean. You never know."

"Unlikely," he huffed. "They can be quite vain, these machines.

The Doctor smiled warmly and petted the console. "Nah. Not my old friend."

"Call me Tom," the Cerulean muttered in an abrupt change of topic."

The Doctor looked up. "I'm sorry?"

"Tom," he repeated. "If you won't use my full name or title, then shorted it to Tom. I much prefer that to being disdainfully referred to as the Cerulean – unless you are comfortable with me referring you to the title of the Prydonian."

The Doctor's eyes flashed for a moment. He considered the title a moment, and then shook his head. "Tom it is, then."

Tom gave a firm nod. "Now that's settled." He looked around, his expression shifting to curiosity. "So just why have we broken into your elder incarnation's capsule?"

"Didn't need to break in," he corrected as he fiddled with a few of the controls. "I have a key." He flicked a switch and looked up to the monitor as he hummed to life. "And I need to see if I can find any messages to my companion regarding the change of species." He looked down and toggled another switch. "I can't imagine that I made such a drastic move without first recording some very specific instructions for her."

"I think the fact the drastic effort was made in the first place…"

"If you don't want my boot up your arse, then you won't finish that thought," the Doctor warned with a dark look. "Remember that this Time Lord is me, so do offer him the same respect that you afford to who I am now."

Tom held up his hands and took a step backward. "Of course, you're right," he admitted. "My apology."

The Doctor's eyes were on the monitor. His voice was quiet. "And I'll also expect you to ignore my when I call him out as being a damn fool." His elder self's face appeared on screen, and he held up a hand to prevent his companion from speaking.

His focus was tight and sharp, and he leaned against the console with the grip of both hands as his elder self went through twenty-three difference sets of instructions. He didn't glean too much from it, at least not from the instructions themselves; they were a fairly rudimentary set of rules. The pear thing seemed to be somewhat out of the ordinary, and no amount of reading between the lines or trying to see the metaphorical meaning to it could provide anything further than the fact the man hated pears and didn't want to wake up with that taste in his mouth…

…Well that could be arranged.

"He appears quite worried," Tom muttered after the screen froze to end the communication. "And adverse to pears."

The Doctor nodded slowly. "His concern for himself and for Martha are quite palpable, I'll agree to that. But as for anything else, this was all nonsensical rubbish."

Tom smirked and rubbed at the back of his neck. "Yeah, I wasn't going to say that. Glad you did."

"However, it turns out that the bio-data receptible is a watch. Quite likely the one I usually wear now." He pulled it form his waistcoat pocket and twisted and turned it in the light of the monitor. "True, it doesn't have a cover on it right now, but as it is the only one I am aware of, I would say that this is what we'll be looking for."

"I'd expect Martha has it," Tom offered with a wag of his brow and a smile on his lip.

He shook his head. "No. The watch has to be kept on my person," he corrected. "Martha should have an idea where I keep it, but she wouldn't have it."

Tom grinned. "Then perhaps we should find Martha. We can discuss with her…."

"And you can keep your filthy Cerulean hands off her," he warned with a point of his finger. "As the Time Lord responsible for her safety and well being, I order you not to play your imprinting fancy hands games with her." He levered his head into a hard tilt of warning. "Am I understood?"

"Perfectly," Tom answered with a disarming smile.

The Doctor walked by him. "And get rid of the guns," he demanded with a point toward the holster at his thigh. "Humans tend to panic when someone shows up with a weapon and really, you don't need them."

Tom's brows lifted high. He looked down at the lazer blaster at his thigh. "Are you sure of that? My capsule systems say that we're in a facility full of adolescent Humans."

The Doctor's eyes flared, and he found himself actually considering it. Finally he shook his head and let out a sigh. "Leave them."

~~oooOOOooo~~

One of the things he had to say was the worst thing about teaching had to be sacrificing his lunch hour to cover off the field and try to keep a bunch of rowdy teenagers from trying to kill themselves and each other. It was particularly frustrating when it was 48 degrees out, and the only areas of shade available were already full to capacity. To his left, a foursome of teens were playing a game of handball with a tennis ball, all of them in a long line and trying to trip up their competitors with a trick shot or fancy slap of the ball. The remainder of the group all milled in the stairwell, waiting for their turn to join the game. He noticed one of them with a lighter, trying to ignite a spider in its web. With a sigh of annoyance, he approached the teen and held out his hand.

"Peter," he said tiredly. "Hand it over."

Peter looked up innocently. "What?"

"The lighter," he clarified with a wriggle of his finger. "Come on, you know they're banned from school property." He looked at the web. "And really, what did that poor creature ever do to you?"

He shrugged as he handed over a red plastic Bic lighter. "It's a redback, Sir. I'm only trying to protect my fellow students from getting bitten."

"If I knew you to be a valiant lad," he began as he pocketed the lighter into the pocket of his shorts, "then I might buy that. However, being that you chased Robyn with a redback on a stick last week trying to put it in her hair, I'm not making any purchases of that nature."

"A man can change," he defended with a shrug.

"Indeed a man can," he agreed. "You, however, are still a child." He turned and walked away. "Come see me after school to get this back."

He walked back into the sunshine and blew a breath up into his fringe. A group of elder teens were involved in a pick up game of Australian Rules Football. It wasn't exactly allowed in this small play area, but he wasn't about to tell them off. That admonishment he could guarantee would come from the five girls who had claimed the only picnic table and bench as their hangout. That lot weren't part of any particular group of populars, geeks, or grunge, and therefore really didn't cate about affecting their reputation by telling anyone to get lost and play their games elsewhere…

…Pretty much like him and his peer group back at the Academy… Ehm … high school.

He laughed when one of them, a tall tomboy called Tania, snatched the oblong-shaped ball from the air and promptly kicked it over the fence. "Take it to the oval," she yelled out angrily. "You know the rules, Oliver."

John waited silently, with a low head and a hunch in his shoulder in wait to see what Oliver would do. He watched the lad through his brows, an expression of warning that he hoped the kid could read. Oliver did take a step toward Tania, but then thought better of it when he caught sight of the teacher.

"Good lad," Smith called when Oliver just waved a hand that involved a raised middle finger to Tania, but then walked off. His head lifted to the centre centre building, and to the small domed bell as it pulsed a 10-chime sound of warning that lunch was officially over and that all students were to move to their last period of the day. "Okay, you lot," he called out. "Wrap it up and get to last period."

The football was launched over the fence and landed at John's feet. He stooped to pick it up, and tossed it to a waiting student.

"Not supposed to throw it, Sir," the lad called out. He made a motion of punching it at the back of the ball. "You punch it. Like this … it's not a rugby ball."

"Rugby's a sissy's game," another chirped out. "Specially Union. Only the Poms play that shit…"

"Right," he drawled. He had no desire to engage in a Aussie Rules versus Ruby Union discussion right now. "You're right. Of course."

"Ahhh, football in the school yard," A smooth voice chipped from his right. "It's been a while, of course, several centuries, but I do recall the games the cadets played in the academy grounds back in our day."

John's expression shifted to annoyance mixed with surprise as he turned to his head to the person standing at his side. Turns out it wasn't just one man, but a pair of them. One of them dressed in silk and velvet, like a Bronte character come to life. The other dressed in blue camouflage army fatigues. Bronte seemed well at ease and comfortable in the school ground, the army fellow looked around with a sense of excitement and awe, like he'd never seen a school yard before.

"I'm sorry," he began with authority in his tone. "Who are you; and what are you doing lurking about in a school yard?"

"Ahh," he breathed out through an open mouth. "You don't recognise me."

John tilted his head to one side and lifted a brow. "Am I supposed to?"

He exhaled hard with a disappointed shake in his head. "I guess not right now." He turned to him and held out a hand of greeting. "I'm the Doctor. I take it you're John Smith? I've heard about you from Jack ad Martha. They're friends of mine. Care to direct me toward where I Can find them?"

John looked at the hand for a moment and debated leaving the man hanging. Propriety, however, he took it for a firm shake with a very tight squeeze. The Doctor, right? "You must be Rose's husband."

"I am indeed her very devoted mate," the Doctor murmured with a slight grit in his teeth as he matched John's tight grip with one of his own. "I take it the two of you have met?"

John's grip tightened further, the game of domination now on. "I have," he grit out. "She's quite an amazing woman."

His hand tightened in kind. "Indeed she is."

"Very amazing."

Tom stepped forward, cradled his hands behind his back, and made a show of stooping down to check the grip between the two men. "Is this how Humans assert dominance between males?" He remained in the stoop as his eyes lifted to the Doctor. "And who is winning?"

Both John and the Doctor looked toward him, but it was John who answered. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

Martha stepped in to the group and pressed her hands over where the two men were joined. She levered a smile up toward the handsome newcomer as she tried to force them apart. "In the pissing war between the human male," she began in a teasing time. "There are no victors, just bruised hands and egos."

The man in blue straightened up with a bright smile. He quickly removed the felt uniform beret from his head and held it behind his back as he offered her a gentile bow. His deep brown eyes were wide and sparkled with excitement. "Well, hello beautiful. It has been a while." He removed his white glove and held out his hand in greeting.

The Doctor roughly withdrew his hand from John's with a snatch. He held it behind his back, flexing and stretching his fingers to work out the pain from John's grip. John hid his own hands behind his back, one rubbing at the other . While his eyes were on the human version of himself, his words were soft in greeting toward his future's companion. "Hello Martha," he said with a smile. His eyes shifted warningly toward Tom. "You remember The Cerulean."

Martha's eyes widened. The Cerulean she remembered was a blonde man with lavender eyes and a cheeky smile. This man was dark haired, had a perfectly chiseled jaw, and deep deep brown eyes that seemed to swim and swirl. Her head shook. "No. That isn't him."

"Regenerated," he cooed softly, with a deep voice. "With you on my mind as the change took hold."

"Oh give it a rest," the Doctor growled. He slapped the young man's hand down. "Remember what we talked about."

John looked between them. "I'm not going to pretend to know what any of you are talking about." He looked to Martha. "I have a class to get to. I'll assume you're in safe hands here?"

"I am," she answered softly. "Best you be off, then."

He nodded. "And best you get your friends off school property before Hurrell sees them." He nodded to the Doctor. "Pleasure to finally see you."

The trio watched him leave, his hands in his pockets and a kick in the brown grass. The Doctor's eyes were narrowed. He kept his eyes on the departing figure. "I take it he hasn't been changed back to his Time Lord self."

Martha shook her head. "No. Not yet. Jack and I figured that if you and Rose were going to leave, then it wasn't necessary to derail his original plan."

"You say that like Rose will leave,' The Doctor answered. He looked toward her and his expression softened. "I anticipate her wanting to stay until she knows I'm safe."

Martha smiled and lowered her head. "We've got quite a bit of time left before the Doctor wants to be turned back into a Time Lord."

"How long?"

"Nearly two months."

"Ahhh," he breathed out. "I dare say that timeline may be brought forward if word from Gallifrey High Command holds any water."

"What do you mean?" She grinned toward the Cerulean, who had moved slightly closer to her. "Do you have a name?"

"Tomiwtraximery," he answered smoothly, "but you can call me Tom."

The Doctor pointed to his left, the opposite side of him to where Martha stood. "And you can stay here. Right here. Without moving. Ri-i-i-ght here." He took hold of the young Lord's shoulder and tugged him to his left. "Stay," he warned him like he would a dog.

Tom did as he was forced to do and rolled his eyes at the other Time Lord. "To answer your question, Beautiful, Gallifrey High Command registered a non-terran ship entering the Earth's atmosphere two days ago. The landing site was approximately 180 kilometres from where we landed our capsule." He looked toward the Doctor. "The data we were able to gather from the satellites within Earth''s outer atmosphere showed consistency with the last known intel of the Family's technology…"

"Do you need that simplified any?" the Doctor asked her with an honest expression of question.

"No, no," she answered, not taking as much offence as was warranted. "I'm caught up, thanks."

"Of course you are," he said with a smile. "As I said to you on our last meeting: you are brilliant." His smile fell. "But that means the family are close by, and may well have already taken on new forms." He looked to Tom. "That will make identification of them quite difficult, and put everyone here in danger."

"Including your mate," Tom agreed with darkness in his tone. "I don't need to tell you that her safety is paramount, Sir. Her High President and the Cardinal made that very clear before we left Gallifrey."

"I didn't need them to tell me that," the Doctor growled. "Her safety, as well as my son's, is always paramount."

Tom curled around the Doctor to bring them face to face. "Then allow me to immediately transport them to Gallifrey. If you wish to deal with the problem here on Earth, then you can do so." He shook his head. "I'm not going to allow you to prolong their danger."

"If Rose is agreeable, then yes, I will allow that."

Martha let out a laugh. "Yeah, something tells me she won't be. Not if there are two of you here."

"Speaking of my mate," the Doctor managed. "Where is she?"

She heard the squeal and then scrape of tyres on loose gravel from the front of the school. A smile spread across her face knowing full well that it was Jack. "Looks like she might be here," she said fondly. "When we heard the TARDIS land, Jack went to the flat to pick her up."

He nodded eagerly, his eyes on the front building in wait. The wait was short, however. He quickly saw the brown hair of his little boy, and the white fur of the wolf that would always protect him, running across the grass toward them.

"Papa!" Mark cried out with excitement. "You're here!"

He launched forward, running in a stoop low enough to be able to scoop that young scamp into his arms for a very long overdue embrace of relief. He called out his boy's name as he captured him with his hands and spun the two of them around in a wide and fast twirl that lifted Mark's feet and legs into the air. The lad pealed out a squeal of pure thrill as he was finally pulled into his father's relieved chest. He held him tightly and spoke soft words of affection into the boy's ear as he curled around him.

"Oh my boy, I've missed you." He pulled back. "Are you okay? Have you been safe?"

Mark's smile was wide and excited. His voice was a growl. "Oh, papa! It's been great!" He then settled a guilty expression on his face. He softened his voice. "But I missed you lots and lots."

"And I, you," he assured him. His eyes looked across the boy's head and to the slow approach of the woman who held his hearts. "Rose," he breathed out longingly. "My hearts."

Mark chuckled. "Uh-oh," he laughed out. "Kissy kissy time, right?" He wriggled to be let down and made kissing sounds. "Don't need to be here for this."

The Doctor let his child down and was still in a stoop as he took a stride toward his wife. "Rose," he called along a whisper.

She moved to within only a few feet of him and held up her hand, looking at him with suspicion. "Are you you?" she asked. "Are am I being setup for another holographic fall on my arse?"

A cheeky grin crossed his face. "You tell me," he called out as he launched forward in a manner very similar to the one he had adopted when he went running for his son. His breath was a growl as he grabbed her underneath her butt and lifted her up against his chest. He didn't twirl them like he had with Mark, instead he held her up so that her chest was in his face, and her head high up above his. He revelled in the thrilled sound she laughed out.

Rassilon, he'd missed that sound.

She quickly struggled to be let down, which he immediately acquiesced to. She cupped his face in both hands and pulled him into what must have been the most sloppy, hurried, messy, uncoordinated kiss in the entire history of mankind. There was nothing about the scene to admire or swoon over, if anything it made everyone present feel incredibly awkward.

"Rose, Rose Rose," he peppered out with light laughter between her smooches. "Hearts, I missed you too."

"Connection," she panted out. "Please?"

He breathed out a sound of understanding and drew up his hand to trace against her jaw as his fingers met with her temple. Almost immediately the both of them let out a long sigh and the frantic mess of their greeting softened out to something much more romantic and pure.

After a moment they separated, but remained close together, their foreheads touching.

"What took you so long?" she whispered after a moment.

"Stealing a TARDIS these days isn't as easy as it once was," he admitted on a whisper. He kept his forehead against hers, but pulled back his chest to take something from his pocket. "I bought you something," he said softly as he snapped a gold bangle around her wrist. He snapped it closed and turned it with his fingertips. "Don't take it off."

She pulled back from him completely now. She held her wrist and turned the shimmering gold bangle around. It was beautiful, perfectly so, too perfectly so. With a turn of amusement in her lip, she held it up to show him. "Okay, what is it?"

"A present," he answered simply. "Like it?"

"You don't buy me random presents," she said with a suspicious pinch in her eye. "And especially not jewellery…"

"Well maybe I thought it would be a bice gesture for a change…"

Her voice shifted to complete suspicion. "What is it?"

He slumped. "Okay. It's a bio damper. Picked it up from the Capitol before we came down." He offered her a smile. "Means that your bio-signature can't be tracked by any nefarious types looking for, oh, I dunno, a Time Lord or his mate." He showed his own wrist, where an identical bangle sat tightly on his wrist. "Look, we match. That's romantic, yes?"

"From you," she admitted with a laugh and a cuddle. "Of course it is." Her lips pursed. "So I take it this means you don't intend on leaving and whisking me back to Gallifrey any time soon?"

"Would you let me?"

She shook her head. "Not until I know you're safe."

"That's what I thought," he admitted with a sigh that told her he had hoped she'd leave quietly. He put an arm over her shoulder and walked them back to Martha, Tom, Mark, and Jack.. "So. As it looks like all of us are going to be sticking around for a while…" he sighed. "Best we start to do what we can to keep my future … and everyone else in this town safe." He exhaled and his voice darkened. "Because I really don't believe for a moment that this is going to be anywhere as easy as my future self thinks it will be."

Jack gave a nod of agreement. "When is it ever?" He looked up to the balcony, where the now Human Time Lord leaned against the balcony railing looking down at the group with an absolute forlorn expression on his face. He seemed to sniff and close his eyes in defeat before he turned and walked into the classroom. "Not easy at all."