The Doctor placed the picture of Clara back into the box and returned it to its designated spot in his desk. He left his room and took a few steps down the hall, where he opened the door to his son's room. Paul's small features were barely visible as he was sound asleep amidst the glow of his nightlight. For whatever reason, Paul seemed to gravitate towards the colour gold. Anything shiny, really.

The young boy insisted that the colour of his nightlight always be set to "gold". Which, in reality, was just a dim, ugly yellow, but the boy didn't seem to care. It was the hazy golden light that kept the all monsters away. The Doctor smiled sadly.

He'd noticed a change in his son's behaviour about a month ago. Usually, when Paul came home from school, he wouldn't talk much about what he'd done that day. He would just say he didn't remember and then ask for a snack to eat. Over the past 4 weeks, that changed. Paul was coming home and talking nonstop about how much he loved being at school or how he didn't want to leave.

He assumed the tiny Time Lord had finally adjusted to his class. However, the Doctor found it odd how Paul was talking about his "teacher" as he referred to her. He'd say things like, "my teacher thinks I'm very clever." Or, "my teacher says I should be an engineer." What really puzzled the Doctor was when he'd said, "if I had a mum, I'd want her to be like my teacher.

Knowing said teacher was a carbon copy of his actual mother, the Doctor felt his hearts breaking. He hadn't understood why Paul was so drawn to his teacher after having her all of year 1. Or why he beamed at her opinions about him. But now, the Doctor knew precisely why. Paul didn't remember his mum, but he'd seen pictures of her. Of course, she wore very different clothes and had a different hairstyle. Not to mention that she had a rather noticeable bump in her belly in most photos. The Doctor wondered if it was just Clara's face that Paul loved. He doubted it. From the short interaction with the young school teacher, he could tell that she very much had the same love of children.

The Doctor closed Paul's door and meandered his way back to his room. He'd hoped for so long that maybe by some miracle of the universe, he'd manage to find her again. And now he finds out that she'd been his own son's primary school teacher all this time. And he'd gone and insulted her. He could tell he nearly made her cry. The Doctor had been so frightened at the thought that him being in her life would literally kill her. He simply reacted and very poorly too.

He once again sat at his desk, got out a piece of paper, and began writing. When he finished writing, he folded the note and headed to the front door where Paul's backpack sat, ready for the next day. He took out the blue folder and put the message inside, knowing that Miss Oswald would check it before the end of the day.

...

The children were at lunch now as Clara decided to forgo the left-over pasta Danny had packed. She opened the container and immediately felt ill at the smell of the sauce. Clara threw her entire lunch in the rubbish bin without thinking. Then, still feeling nauseous, she took the plastic bag and made her way to a larger bin in the hallway.

Clara sat back at her desk and decided to go through the children's folders. They had all placed them neatly in a pile on her desk at the beginning of the day. Most of them were empty. A few notes about so and so having to miss an upcoming day for a dental appointment or whatnot. When she got to Paul's folder, she was a bit surprised to find not just a quick note but an entire letter. It wasn't long, but still. She read it silently to herself.

Miss Oswald,

I wanted to apologise for my behaviour last we talked. There's no excuse for my abrupt rudeness. I'd like to blame it on my work being a bit of a drain as of late or the fact that your questions were too personal. The truth is, I reacted so poorly because your question about Paul's mother brought up some unresolved issues that I've neglected to properly deal with.

Again, it's no excuse, and I can see how you really were just trying to best understand how to help my son. I'm sorry for leaving so abruptly. You were right, though, about me letting my son down every time I've made a promise to him that I couldn't keep. I've decided to scale my work back a bit to give more attention to Paul. Thank you for your honesty.

Even as hard as it was to hear, I can be a bit daft sometimes and need a bit of a kick in the rear to notice important things.

Thank you for taking the time to read my pathetic apology. And yes, I'm a bit of a coward to write a letter rather than face you in person. For such a small woman, you are quite intimidating. And I don't blame you if you tear this letter up and throw it in the nearest bin. But, regardless of how you feel about me, I hope you will continue to show my son the love and attention that you've given him over the past few weeks.

Warm regards,

Dr John Smith

Clara was shocked, to say the least, as she read through the letter. This man really was a bit of a roller coaster. She nearly laughed out loud at his confession that she was intimidating. She was the one who almost burst into tears, and he's saying he was intimidated by her. What a silly man. Her only conclusion was that he clearly was going through an emotional crisis due to unresolved issues. Just as he'd stated in the letter.

She then wondered what kind of doctor this "John Smith" was. She imagined him running around a large hospital performing brain surgery, given how sporadic and unforgiving his schedule seemed to be. But perhaps it wasn't his job that was sporadic and unforgiving. Perhaps it was him.

She quickly folded the letter up and put it in her desk. Well, whatever kind of doctor he is, she certainly felt better now than she had all day.

...

The Doctor was packing up his belongings, going over the grocery list in his head. It was a relatively uneventful day at the hospital, which meant that tomorrow would most likely be the opposite. He'd just spent the last hour listening to one of the other doctors talking about his relationship woes. Truthfully, the Doctor hadn't really been listening and just threw in a few "mhmm's" every now and then.

Dr Nathaniel Andrews liked to talk…and talk…and talk. The Doctor had known him for a few years now, so he knew that whatever the man was talking about was him just verbally processing. The Doctor could have easily been replaced by the dying potted plant that sat on his windowsill, and "Nate the Great" wouldn't have batted an eye.

"I can stop by the grocers on the way home from picking up Paul... OH!" He slammed his hand to his forehead. "Ow!" The Doctor cried at the sting. He really blew it this time. He'd promised Paul that he'd pick him up today, knowing that he specifically scheduled his last patient for noon, leaving him ample time to arrive at the school. But Dr Andrews stopped by his office, seemingly distressed, and asked to have a "quick chat". He should have known it was never just a "quick chat" with the man.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid!" he yelled to himself as he ran towards the car that thankfully Craig had let him borrow. Usually, he'd just call Craig to pick up Paul if work didn't allow, but he couldn't do that to him again. Not now! He really didn't want to disappoint him...and maybe a tiny part of him didn't want to disappoint Clara either. He sped off towards the primary school. "Well, if you wanted to make her hate you, she sure will now," he grumbled to himself.

...

Clara stared off into space as she waited for Craig to pick up Paul. She would have been irate that Dr Smith took the time to write that letter only to go and break a promise to his son again. The nervous young woman wasn't, though. She was too busy thinking about the discovery she had made earlier that morning and had yet to tell Danny. They had plans to go out to dinner and figured it would be as good a time as any to share her news. Would he be happy? Maybe it was a mistake. She had already googled the likelihood of false positives, but it was doubtful. And given her last cycle plus nausea...she gave a small smile to herself as she whispered, "I'm gonna be a mum."

The sharp knocking broke her out of her daydream. She stood up to get the door, but Paul got there first. The little boy was laughing, knowing precisely who was incessantly knocking at the door. And it wasn't Craig.

"Daddy!" cried Paul as he jumped into his father's arms.

"Hello, Paul! Sorry, I'm late. Got caught up in a conversation with Nate the great today."

Paul giggled. He knew precisely who Dr Andrews was. He'd met him a few times and was very aware of his "gift of gab", as the Doctor would kindly put it.

"It's okay, daddy. I'm just glad you're here."

Clara was a bit stunned to see Paul's father actually keep his word. Of course, he was late, but still, he showed up. Dr Smith was really was trying to do better. Clara handed him Paul's belongings as the young boy lay against his father's chest. The Doctor was still holding his son as he took the backpack from Clara.

"Got your letter," she said softly. "I...I really appreciate it."

The Doctor smiled. "Yes. Good. And, er, I'm really sorry I'm late. I...well, work. And, things. I'm not, uh, very good with, well, time management."

Oh, if River could only hear him now. The great "Lord of Time" admitting he was rather actually rubbish at managing it. The Doctor gave a nervous smile. He was a bit lost for words. Should he say something more? Should he just leave? What do parent/teacher relationships normally look like?

Clara cleared her throat. The Doctor realised he'd just been staring at her. He quickly looked away and backed up, allowing her to leave the room. She shut the door behind her.

"Heading home myself," she said, trying to dissipate the sudden awkwardness. The Doctor walked beside her towards the car park. When it was apparent that Clara had parked on the other side, she spoke.

"Well, I'm glad you made it. It means a lot...to Paul, that is."

"Oh, right. Yes. Well, I meant what I said...in the letter. Thank you for the...kick," he laughed. "Still have a bit of a bruise."

Clara chuckled.

Oh, how he missed hearing that laugh. The Doctor knew he needed to leave before breaking down in front of her. She'd probably call Children's Services and claim he was on some kind of illicit drug with how many mood swings he was having. Paul then piped up.

"Can Miss Oswald come over for supper?" He asked innocently.

The Doctor's face went red as if he had been the one to blurt out the question because truthfully, he would have loved more than anything for Clara to have supper with them.

"Oh, he's so sweet," she laughed. "I'm sorry, Paul but not tonight."

The little boys face fell.

"But maybe another night, yeah? I've already got plans with my boyfriend."

Paul smiled brightly at the thought of Miss Oswald coming over for supper another night, but the Doctor felt his hearts sink when he heard the word "boyfriend".

Paul had fallen asleep on the way home, so the Doctor sat in silence as he drove. 'Of course, she has a boyfriend!' he thought. 'How could someone as beautiful and smart and fun and loving and...well, how could someone like her still be single.'

The Doctor pulled the car into the Owens' driveway and then carried his son back over to their own home, where he laid Paul on the small sofa. The Doctor turned on a cartoon and gently rubbed his back so he'd wake up. He didn't want his sleeping pattern to get out of sorts, but he knew the boy was probably exhausted.

Paul sat up and smiled at his dad before getting lost in the children's show. The Doctor made his way to the kitchen to get supper ready. He opened the fridge and realised he had never stopped at the grocers on the way home. He'd been so distracted. The Doctor looked over to the boy on the sofa and called out.

"Paul?"

"Yes, daddy?"

"Would you like to go out for supper? You can pick!"

He heard the boy jump off the sofa and stomp his little feet as he barreled his way into the kitchen.

"Cheeseburger! MacDonald's cheeseburger!" The boy was jumping up and down before suddenly becoming very serious.

"But NO pickles. Bleh. Bad, bad pickles."

He then spun on his heels as he ran back to his spot on the sofa. The Doctor shook his head and laughed. He should have known Paul would ask for a McDonald's cheeseburger. Sophie had gotten him an Alfie Happy Meals a few months ago as a special treat, and Paul had been begging to go back ever since. The Doctor never had McDonald's before and thought it didn't look very...edible. But then again, this particular regeneration didn't think most things were.

He phoned Craig to make sure it was okay to take the car for the night. When he got the go-ahead, he helped Paul get his shoes and coat back on as they made their way to the fast-food restaurant.

The Doctor was now sitting across a very delighted little boy. Paul was munching away at his cheeseburger...minus pickles, of course. The older Time Lord looked at his own cheeseburger unwrapped in front of him.

"Are you going to eat it?" Paul asked with a mouth full of burger and ketchup all over his face. The Doctor smiled and picked up the burger.

"Geronimo," he said as he took a bite. It wasn't horrible, but it also wasn't...good. He'd much prefer to have some fish fingers and custard, but he didn't want Paul to request the peculiar dish at random friends homes and have other parent's think the boy's father was a madman...which in all honesty he was but still.

Paul looked at his father with his eyes wide, waiting for him to answer. The Doctor could clearly see that Paul was desperately hoping his father would enjoy the meal just like he did.

"It's...really...good," he said as he swallowed. Paul laughed and continued to eat his own.

"I can't wait for Miss Oswald to come over for supper!" Paul blurted out.

"Oh?" Replied the Doctor. "Why...why do you like Cla...Miss Oswald so much? You never wanted to have your other teachers over."

Paul laughed. "That's because they weren't my mummy," the boy said in response.

The Doctor nearly choked on his food. "Wha? What? What do you mean?"

"Miss Oswald. She's my mum. Isn't she?" Paul was now looking at his father like it was so obvious. Didn't his father remember what his mummy looked like?

The Doctor could feel a slight panic rising in his chest. "Why...why do you say that?"

He was trying to keep an even tone. Yes, Paul had seen pictures of his mother, but the Doctor hadn't shown them to him since he was only 2. He was now wracking his brain. How did Paul come to this conclusion, and why he had never said anything before?

"Dad, I've seen mum's pictures. The ones you keep in your desk in the box." His voice got quiet. "Are...are you mad at me?"

Mad? How could he be mad at his son for wanting to look at pictures of his own mother? The mother he'd kept hidden away from him. The mother that was now apparently his teacher. He could see the tears welling up in the little boy's eyes. The Doctor reached his hand across the table.

"Paul, I'm not mad. If anything, you should be mad at me for keeping them from you."

The Doctor had to wipe the tears that were now forming in his own eyes.

"Why didn't you say anything before?" he asked.

Paul hesitated. "Because…because I knew mommy made you sad. I always know when you're thinking about her because I…I can hear you crying at night. You call out for her. Clara. I first thought my teacher just looked a lot like mummy's picture. I hadn't seen it in a long time but…but I came to your room the other night, and I saw you take out a small box from your desk. I knew that's where you must have kept mummy's pictures and…and I wanted to see her again. Meeting Miss Oswald made me miss her terribly….even…even though I don't remember her."

The Doctor listened intently to his son as he tried to keep a steady breath. His hearts were breaking hearing the little boy talk about missing his mum and just wanting to see merely a picture of her.

"I didn't want you to know I saw you open the box, so I ran back to my room and pretended to be asleep. I must have actually fallen asleep. I'm really sorry, daddy, but I woke up when I heard you yell for "Clara". I knew that was my teacher's name, and I didn't know why you'd want to see her. I…well…I snuck out of bed and…, and I found the box, and you hadn't locked it, and I found mummy's pictures. And then I knew Miss Oswald…Miss Clara was my mummy. She…she must have forgotten about us. I…well, the next day at school, I asked her if she remembered me when I was a baby, and she just chuckled at me and said that she wished she could have met me because I probably had the cutest cheeks."

Paul was now crying. The Doctor quickly tried to soothe his son, but now people were staring, and he hadn't realised he was crying too, so he dumped everything into the bin, picked the small boy up, and carried him out of the building. As he held Paul close to his chest, he heard him whimper.

"Why doesn't she remember me?" he sobbed. "Is she mad at me? Why did she leave." The Doctor quickly buckled the boy in the back seat, trying to control his own tears. Before closing the door, he knelt down just outside the car.

"I'm so so sorry, Paul." How could he even begin to explain? He could make up a lie, but that wouldn't be fair. The truth was so confusing that he himself didn't even understand what was actually going on. He'd met this woman 3 times now! It felt like a cruel joke that not only deeply wounded his very soul but his son's as well. The Doctor got into the driver's side but was too distraught to start the engine. Paul's sobbing began to turn into anger as he began to violently kick the back of the Doctor's seat.

"I…I hate her!" Paul screamed. "She…she left us! She forgot us! She…she doesn't love me anymore!"

The Doctor didn't know what to do. It was all too much. So many intense emotions. He couldn't think straight.

"Paul, please. You need to calm down."

Paul pounded the seat next to him with his fist while kicking the one in front of him widely.

"I hate her! I hate her! I hate her!"

The doctor sternly told Paul to stop, but the little boy had spiralled so far that he couldn't control his emotions. The Doctor knew what he should do. He knew enough about child development and whatnot, but all his knowledge of human (and Time Lord) behaviour flew out the window. He was also spiralling and couldn't seem to control his emotions either.

Before he could stop himself, he turned back to face Paul as he swung his arm, swatting his son on the leg.

"Shut up!" he screamed. He shocked himself at the sudden outburst. Paul had immediately gone quiet as his eyes went wide. He then began to sob.

"Paul, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry! I…I didn't mean to…I..."

"I hate YOU! It's YOUR fault mummy doesn't remember me!" he yelled out in a half scream half sob. The Doctor sat back in shock as Paul continued to cry but much softer. It was like something switched in his brain.

"Mummy, Miss Oswald, loves me. She doesn't love you! You made her forget us! But she loves me even though she doesn't remember being my mummy."

The Doctor watched the flurry of emotions going through the small child's features.

"She…she DOES love me. She doesn't love YOU!"

He said almost too happily. Paul had concluded that his daddy had done something that made her forget them. But Miss Oswald clearly cared about him. His mummy still loved him. And whether she remembered him or not. That was enough.

The Doctor watched as Paul calmed and began to look out the window as if nothing had happened.

"I want to go home," he said quietly.

The Doctor didn't even know what to say because the truth was…Paul was right. It was his fault that Paul's mum didn't remember him. Because it was his fault that she died. Paul may not have been correct in thinking that the Clara he knew was his actual mum, but she did love him and obviously cared about him.

The drive home was silent. Once again, the Doctor carried his son into the house. But, instead of laying him on the sofa, he took him to his own bed. He tucked the boy in and gave him a kiss on his forehead.

The Doctor lay on his own bed, staring at the blank space on the ceiling. He should be bothered that his son said he hated him. He should be bothered that his son called him out on the fact that his mother didn't know him. And, he should be bothered by the fact that the little boy was right in saying Miss Oswald didn't love him. Because it was all true.

He knew Paul would come around about the hating him part…or at least he hoped, but the rest was still valid. But, instead of being swallowed up by despair at the hard truths his son spoke, he was…content? Well, maybe he wouldn't go as far as content as the Doctor would often still cry himself to sleep on particularly challenging workdays, inevitably thinking about Clara and wishing he knew then what he knew now.

But not tonight. Tonight, the Doctor fell asleep peacefully after seeing his small son come to an understanding in his heart that his mummy loved him.