The next morning never should have come. It was far too bright, far too cold and far too loud.

Clara rested her head in her hands, breaking protocol just this once to put her elbows on the table, creating a cradle that would hopefully silence her pounding headache.

The sharp wake up call had demanded they all come to breakfast at ten o'clock prompt. Despite everyone at the table suffering, Mr Smith clearly never strayed from routine or allowed a lazy day.

The aforementioned Mr Smith sat at the head of the table, a massive Sunday morning newspaper unfurled in front of him as a way of blocking out all of the other guests. He flipped the pages every five minutes or so and Clara felt like snapping at him to just shut up when he tutted at a column he didn't like.

The bacon and sausages he'd requested were getting steadily colder but the smell of the fry up still made Clara want to be sick into the plant pot in the corner of the room.

She tried picking at the slice of toast in front of her but the butter she'd elected for, instead of her usual strawberry jam or Nutella, just melted in further, pooling in a way that made her feel as if she were at sea and she felt her hand unconsciously push the plate away.

She'd definitely chosen the wrong seat, she thought as she dropped yet another sugar cube into her tea and stirred absentmindedly.

The only thing taking her mind off of this hangover was the china teacup sat in front of her.

The sun was casting it's rays viciously through the French windows; either not caring about the people inside or taking sheer pleasure in the pain it was causing.

John was lucky enough to be sitting opposite her and had managed to escape the evil glare of light, sadly he wasn't able to block the sun from her view despite his broad shoulders- nope to hungover for that.

He didn't look too bad considering the previous night, sure he hadn't bothered to brush his hair creating some pretty awkward angles and he had deep bags under his eyes and yes maybe he hadn't smiled all morning but compared to Clara he must look like a saint.

Even though he had drunk enough to rival a sailor he was still managing to scoff food into his mouth- clearly his stomach hadn't been affected Clara thought almost viciously. Currently he was making his way through his third plate after a bowl of chocolate rice crispies and a pancake with sugar and lemon. Clara couldn't understand where he put all of this food as he cut up yet another sausage, barely opening his eyes as he did so.

This was the only breakfast she'd attended where she was allowed to wear her pjs rather than having to get dressed before hand and for that she thanked God.

Straight after this she'd be crawling back into bed, Smith Sr's schedule be damned and to do so she didn't need to change back into her pjs.

Due to her killer hangover she didn't feel so self conscious about sitting in them, normally she would she just couldn't help it, but judging by Amy's nightie, Smith Sr's silk pjs and the fact that John had clearly just wrapped a dressing gown over his boxers, it wasn't such a big deal.

There was a smattering of other guests at the table who had stayed the night as well-it's not like the Smiths didn't have the room.

John's Aunt Sarah Jane, a seemingly cold woman who in actual fact was wonderful once you began speaking to her, (Clara had discovered this after an incident involving a spilled Malibu and coke) sat at the opposite end of Mr Smith with her teenage son Luke on her right.

She was the joint partner in Amy's publishing firm that she had inherited from her Aunt Sharon although Sarah Jane handled the journalism mostly in the London headquarters rather than New York. Clara got the impression they were rather like the Murdocks.

Amy and Rory, of course, who were both feeling the same as Clara evidently. Unfortunately for Amy their night in the pool had led to her hair being rather crazy and curly; though at this point Clara doubted she really cared.

There was also a cousin of John's named Harold Saxon. He sat right by Smith Sr and seemed to be constantly trying to ingratiate himself and for some reason Smith Sr allowed it.

Clara remembered reading an article in the paper once about the rivalry between John and Harold, the bad boy bachelor vs the straight edged Oxford graduate. The rumour mill had been churning it out for years that Harold was going for John's position in the company despite not being the direct heir.

Clara couldn't put her finger on it but something about him felt off, like something was lurking under the surface that was dark, well the same could be said about John, but this was different; almost evil.

She knew it was unfair to label someone as evil, even simply in her own head however she couldn't shake this feeling.

He had a wife, a pretty heiress who hadn't really done much with her life other than marry and support Harold but she seemed sweet from what Clara had seen.

Lucy Saxon sat opposite him and somehow managed to seem picture perfect even after last nights antics as if she hadn't had more than a few glasses of wine, maybe she didn't not everyone is an alcoholic.

She had a small bowl of fruit in front of her ranging from papaya to mango and an even smaller bowl of porridge topped with honey next to that. Clara was sure she heard her say "I don't do carbs" when the servers asked, though she's slightly less sure if she saw Harold give her an approving nod.

The breakfast carried on in silence only being broken by the scrape of cutlery and the turn of the newspaper. Harold was still trying to strike up a conversation with Smith Sr however he stopped talking after receiving glares from the majority of the hangover crowd.

Clara turned her attention to John, still wolfing down his bacon. She didn't expect him to look up and give her his first smile of the morning but it was a welcome surprise all the same.

It wasn't his usual grin, just a soft turn of his lips, the kind of smile you have when you know something or wish you could say something.

Surprisingly, she found herself smiling back, her own just as small but distinctly there.

When Harold attempted his spiel about the businesses future ventures, John met her eyes again before rolling his at the mans disregard for subtlety. That was when John properly spoke for the first time.

"That's enough Harry, you need to save some sucking up for later don't you think?" His cousin was about to protest before being silenced by Mr Smith with only a wave of his hand.

"At least he has some direction John." He didn't even lift his eyes from the page. Those almost bored words would be enough to silence everyone for the rest of the meal if they weren't already. Clara noticed John had lost his smile.

She felt a tug of sympathy and reached her foot out to his leg to tap it reassuringly. His eyes snapped up to hers before he lightly kicked her foot back. No she was not playing bloody footsie not with John Smith of all people especially not today of all days.

Despite that warning to herself, she kicked back.

Then so did he.

They kept going until their feet settled leaning against each other in that apprehensive way where they go slightly numb and you feel as if you should move but at the same time you don't want to and you don't know why.

She's pretty sure she heard Harold mumble something like 'lovebirds' but chose to ignore it just in case she was wrong.

Instead she tried to manage a few more bites of her toast in hopes of getting back to bed quicker.

She'd managed to slump back into bed at half ten and received a blissful hour and a half of dreamless sleep until there was yet another sharp rap on her door.

Her eyes snapped open and she clambered out of her four poster bed, grumbling as she went.

She almost ripped the door off its hinges as she opened it and was prepared to berate whoever dared interrupt her sleep again. However on the other side of the door was the maid she'd met earlier, Gwyneth she thinks it was, and the fight drained out of her, she really didn't want to be horrible to this poor girl.

"I'm so sorry to interrupt Miss Clara, but everyone has been invited out for a walk…it's uhh not optional," she emphasised the last word causing Clara to raise an eyebrow, clearly the staff had been threatened to get the meaning across.

She can always sense the signs, her wicked witch of a stepmother did it enough to the staff at home.

She gave a sigh and turned to go get ready.

"Well I don't want to get you in trouble so I best follow my orders," Clara gave her a mock salute which was met with a small laugh that Gwyneth covered with a cough, in case her employer was hiding behind one of the crystal vases, waiting for his chance to pounce.

Mr Smith really was a scary man.

"Thank you Miss Clara-"

"Just Clara remember,"

"Yes sorry, Clara, they are meeting by the front door in fifteen minutes, I know that doesn't give you long to get ready but I wanted to let you lie in for a little longer."

"Me and my under eye bags appreciate that immensely," Gwyneth blushed a little before nodding as her signal to go and shutting the door behind her.

Right.

Fifteen minutes. She can totally do this.

Her hair was full of chlorine thanks to her quick dip last night so she had no choice to put it into a bun, allowing the front ringlets of her hair to hang down as some sort of face shaper. She rushed to brush her teeth and shower, considering to do both at the same time for a brief second- no she hadn't fallen that far.

Right make up. She inspected her face in the mirror and decided on concealer and mascara, they were just going on a walk and she had no one to impress, nope, no one at all.

She pulled on one of the few pairs of jeans Linda allowed her to own and a white jumper she covered with a black leather jacket.

She dragged on her shoes (which caused her to crash into the dresser as she flailed about in her lack of time). She had about a minute to spare as she descend the stairs to the main hall.

Of course everyone else was already there.

"Ah Clara good to see you," Mr Smith declared seeming genuine, "Alright let's head off, a bit of fresh air could do us all some good," Amy let out a small groan from the back of the room and, wether he heard it or not, Smith Sr ignored it.

The day was far too sunny and far too cold. It should be one or the other in Clara's opinion. Either sunny and warm or cold and grey, there is absolutely no need for one of each.

Amy was either incredibly smart having anticipated the sun with her sunglasses or still very hungover. Something told Clara it was the latter.

At the front of the group was Mr Smith leading them forward as if he were a great explorer of uncharted lands. At his heels was Harold Saxon; something told Clara that at school he was a total teachers pet.

Lucy walked two steps behind him not because she was lagging it seemed like that was what she was expected to do. Clara felt a wave of sympathy for the woman who seemed to be ignored unless there was an advantage for Harold.

That had always been Clara's greatest concern about marriage especially considering the life she leads, she couldn't handle not being considered an equal or even a marriage for economic gain. In her mind she would marry for love or she wouldn't at all.

So many of the girls she grew up with who are fellow socialites were forced into arranged marriages for some reason or another and Clara couldn't think of anything worse: she'd rather lose everything material before she gave up her autonomy.

She had a tendency to cave to other people's demands already, she certainly didn't need someone like Harold Saxon weighing in.

Most people assumed that the practise of arranged marriages died with the dark ages and that is exactly how the ones arranging them want people to see it. When the touched up faces of the future Mr and Mrs beamed from the covers of a glossy magazine, the public were expected to believe it was real.

She suspected this may have been what happened to Lucy Saxon.

Around five years ago, when John was 23 and had just broken up with Rose Tyler for the third time ("Living Parallel lives" was the headline if Clara remembered correctly.) the tabloids sparked a rumour that his next girlfriend would be old money heiress Lucy Cole and it seemed like it was true, especially after they were seen going for dinner.

However, as soon as the rumour mill began churning it stopped. They were rarely pictured together after that sighting, John continued to be wild and free eventually crashing that limo and suddenly there was a shiny, diamond ring on Lucy's finger- just not from John.

His jaded, older cousin Harold appeared out of no where and moved pretty quickly even for high society. Many speculated the marriage was out of spite rather than love though, of course, John didn't seem to care a jot.

Hundreds of stories like that were reported, Harold desperately trying to outshine the playboy prince who despite his antics the papers still seemed to adore. Anytime John seemed to put a toy down Harold wasn't far behind to claim it as if it were his all along. Clara would almost feel sorry for him if she couldn't sense his vicious jealous streak from a mile away.

It seemed like the definition of the green eyed monster. Though a small voice seemed to warn her that the monster may be the man himself rather than his affliction with envy.

Clara looked slightly off to the side where Sonic was bounding along clearly delighted with the prospect of this many people on his walk with him.

Giddily jumping along with him was John, which seemed to be simultaneously surprising and exactly what she would expect. Not even a massive hangover could get between that man and his dog- or his childish nature.

John was trailed by Luke Smith, who looked at his cousin with utter awe. Clara had heard from Sarah Jane that he was very adept in the sciences and almost idolised John who shared a similar mindset.

Luckily, John clearly doted on the young lad and they had an almost brotherly bond she observed as they roughhoused with each other and the dog, laughing as they went.

Even luckier, they had broken off from the rest of the group so Clara wasn't gripping her ears in pain at the volume of their laughter. Any other day she would have been more than happy to join in.

Right now? Laughter was the work of the devil.

John swung an arm around Luke's shoulders rather subdued, speaking in a hushed tone as they walked earning a small chuckle from Luke like he was trying to keep quiet but failing.

They continued their way separate from the others and Clara eventually broke off her gaze, unaware that she had been noticed.

"They've always been close." Sarah Jane spoke clearly through the low wind, nodding towards the pair and startling Clara back to a reality where you don't obsessively analyse your company's behaviour.

"Luke spent a lot of time here when I was travelling for work- always an article that needs writing, you know?" she gave a melancholy smile as she watched her son. "As a rather positive result of my absence those two are thick as thieves."

"Like brothers…It seems nice." Clara said wistfully.

"It is." She gave a stiff nod of her head. "I view John as my son as much as Luke, especially after his mother's passing, Verity was a wonderful woman…" The statement seemed rather blunt to Clara, as if a boundary was being set but she chose to ignore it, suspecting that this was possibly just Sarah Jane's method of communicating.

"Yes I've heard a little about her." At the mere suggestion of this Sarah Jane's head snapped up to look Clara in the eye. They were of a similar height with was decidedly rare for Clara but a welcome change nonetheless.

"That's rather unusual." Clara dropped her eyes to her feet, watching each footstep like it was the latest blockbuster hit rather than keep the older woman's steely gaze.

"John's barely mentioned her name in the past year never mind talking about her, especially with someone he hardly knows- no offence dear." Clara waived her hands in a noncommittal gesture to assure that offence was not taken.

"Very unusual indeed." She paused for breath before carrying on.

"The whole house was scrubbed of any and every memory of her, I don't think either of them could bear it." Sarah Jane seemed to be pouring every ounce of her energy into the gaze that she fixed onto Clara, a perfect balance between guidance and warning, with maybe, just maybe, a smidge of curiosity.

"My dad did that. When my mum died, I mean." Clara sighed casting her gaze upwards to the white sky full of light but lacking in colour as if it were mimicking, or mocking, the crowd beneath it, who were just as lifeless and colourless.

"You can't tell now of course, Linda redid the whole place with very little warning so there's no blank spaces left to plague us." She added bitterly and she could tell it was sensed.

"I'm sorry, no one should lose their mother so young," She rubbed her hand along the younger girls shoulder in a calming manner before sharply withdrawing. "Which is why what I have to say to you next will be so difficult."

"Wait what do you mean diffi-" Clara was silenced with a firm hand in the air.

"Be delicate. You should know more than most I assume how hard the burden of grief is. That young man has a lot of love to give, hoards of it. Heaps. Sometimes I think he forgets because some little voice tells him no one deserves it apart from her. Other times I see him with Luke," she gestured toward them playfully shoving each other "and my heart breaks because he should be free to be like that all the time. I think he might be opening his heart to you now wether you would like to see it or not and wether he knows it or not. I don't expect you to be in love with him, I don't expect you to do anything but be delicate. Because if I have to pick up the pieces of his shattered heart once again you don't want to know what I'll do."

"I-" annnnnnnd silenced once again.

"This is a lot to put on you I know and I'm guessing rather out of the blue for you but I'm not sure when I'll get the opportunity for this conversation again so I ask, darling just be careful. From what I've seen you are bright and funny and quite a looker, you've also got a wonderful height," she added with a wink despite her serious tone.

"Exactly what he needs and before long probably what he'll want… not that he'd ever admit it to anyone especially you, so no need to worry about that." She paused for breath and Clara began internally praying for whatever this was to be over.

"Anyway, I wouldn't be doing my job as the stubborn bugger's aunt if you didn't get this from me considering his personal history… Lord knows his father won't do it."

She removed her fiery gaze from Clara for the first time in the conversation to actually give a glare to the back of her brother's bald head, making Clara rather glad she was only receiving a warning rather than an actual dressing down from Sarah Jane.

"Ah well don't mind the ramblings of an old woman…I'm getting on a bit." Clara stood there like a numpty. Mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, gasping for the air that had been ripped from her lungs.

Sarah Jane just strode off as abruptly as she came, her short legs in black riding boots covering significant distance for her stature that Clara really needs to ask her about.

The formidable yet vivacious woman eventually caught up to her brother and gave a small glance back towards Clara so brief and so quick Clara thought she'd imagined it.

It was like her brain was on fire, burning and whirring and fizzing with all this information she didn't quite understand. For one thing John Smith was not the kind who 'opened his heart' to girls like her and for another she was certain she didn't want him to.

Almost certain.

If her hangover headache had received any cure from her nap it was absolutely destroyed now and Clara felt as though she'd been on a week long bender rather than simply attending a party.

The whole conversation was a lot a to take in. Even more so now, Clara needed her bed or maybe a massive jug of water.

It felt like a truck had been dropped on her and she wasn't entirely sure if the weight she was now lifting was physical or emotional. Rather than explaining anything to her, Sarah Jane had continued on as if nothing had happened and Clara was wondering more and more if the whole family operated in this blunt yet seemingly enigmatic way. A total opposite to the Oswald's soft and gentle approach.

Really could she not have waited just a little bit longer before pouncing?

"Ouch, the bollock buster strikes again," Amy joined Clara's side giving her a mock wince and a cheeky wink from behind her slightly lowered sunglasses.

"The bollock buster?" She raised an eyebrow. The nickname certainly suited her.

"A few men in her department when she first started out in journalism gifted it to her, she reclaimed it and kept it." They laughed quietly together watching Miss Smith taking over as the lead from her brother. From the little she knew about Sarah Jane Smith this one detail summed her up perfectly.

"Don't take it personally, she usually gives everyone the first degree though I have to say you have may have gotten even worse than the famed Rose Tyler herself." Amy cast a sideways look her way, attempting to seem all knowing or at least teasing. It would have done so if she hadn't stumbled over her feet on the slightly muddy grass due to the light drizzle beginning.

God bless British weather.

Amy clutched Clara's arm, wrapping her pale fingers around in an iron grip that Clara nearly yelped at before she was sent into a fit of giggles over Amy's face as she tried to right herself.

"Did I mention, I hate the outdoors?" Amy grumbled while resetting her sunglasses on her face, blocking out any possible sources of light. "I'll never understand people who enjoy this or even worse camping." The redhead physically shuddered and looked as if bile really was rising in her throat which just made Clara laugh harder.

"Me and my friend Nina went once, usually I don't mind nature, I quite like the scenery but dear God…" tears of laughter formed in her eyes at the memory. "These cows must have chased us for absolute miles…so territorial," She wiped at her cheeks to get the cold water droplets off before they froze to her face.

Ok slight exaggeration, but it was really cold.

"I swear Nina can't go near cows to this day, she orders burgers out of spite now."

Clara thought back to her friend from uni. She was Clara's exact opposite in every way but they seemed to balance each other out.

Where Clara preferred a book Nina waited for the film adaption- she declared herself victorious when they made the new Great Gatsby.

Nina flirted shamelessly and decidedly more dirty than Clara could manage and the clothing she wore was usually much brighter and bolder than Clara could pull off.

Just like Amy, Nina was all legs. The further she considered it there was quite a lot of similarities between the two; specifically concerning their outrageousness.

If Clara allowed her mind to go there for even a second, she'd realise there was rather a lot of similarities between Nina and a certain floppy-haired, hazel-eyed idiot frolicking over the hills at this current moment.

However she refused to let her mind go there. At all.

"Rory took me camping once, fancies himself as a bit of a Bear Grylls." Clara glanced over to where Rory was attempting to calm down John to no avail. "Never again. And I mean never again, I may or may not have set fire to the tents to solidify my point."

Clara and Amy walked on exchanging stories from their youth, each one of Amy's stories had Clara in stitches.

She just seemed to command a crowd with that dramatic flair of hers. Clara found herself enjoying her present company more and more in a way she didn't expect when she first encountered the likes of John Smith and everything he entails and she wasn't exactly sure what to do with that information.

The group had edged further on to a woodland that Amy informed her was Foxberry woods. Clara felt as if she had fallen into a fairy tale with the feel of the soft ground underneath her feet and the smell of pine in the air that really, definitely didn't smell a little like John.

As they ventured further in and the tree canopy blocked out the light from above little by little, Amy discarded her sunglasses, absentmindedly passing them off to a complacent Rory in a manner clearly routine between the couple now. Clara tried not to be jealous over how Amy didn't look like she was suffering from a hangover at all.

A babbling brook gurgled through the forest and the whole place seemed like a second out of time. The world was ticking away except for this pocket of reality that stood still, a photograph holding a living memory.

The pine trees were a deep green even in the bleakest winter standing out amongst the drab greys and browns as they towered above enveloping Clara into this place so she could never leave.

Some part of her doesn't want to.

For some reason Smith Sr chose this point to brandish a rolled up broadsheet paper he had masterfully stuffed into his pocket and strode over to a bench that was randomly placed in the centre of a gap in the trees. It was bathed in a small glow of light the rest of the wood didn't receive and Mr Smith allowed himself to bask in it as he thumbed through the rest of the paper. (Though, Clara thought rather snidely, there couldn't be much left to read after his loud display this morning.)

Sarah Jane sat down next to him and wordlessly he passed her a section, both of them becoming engrossed.

From the way Harold Saxon was craning his neck, Clara assumed he desperately wanted to be a part of this cosy reading but he had been decidedly shut out.

"Amy, Clara!" John's voiced called through the trees drawing Clara back in. "I can guarantee he'll stay until he's finished and I'd put money on a debate between him and Aunt Sarah breaking out before even then so…fancy a little game?"

"If it involves any sort of alcohol, you'll find your head in the stream." Amy warned.

"I was going to suggest tig but if you insist?" John raised his eyebrows suggestively before receiving a sharp whack across each arm; one from Amy, one from Clara. "No alcohol, understood. Hangover's are clearly in full swing still. Besides if you two detectives bothered to check I don't have any on me anyway- I'm not an animal." Luke laughed at this and John seemed to swell with pride.

He fit the role of big brother well.

"That's debatable," Clara muttered not expecting to be heard, but she received a rather half-arsed glare from John when Luke snorted unable to hide his amusement from his cousin.

"For that Lukey-boy you are on," John tapped the young lad's arm before sprinting away giggling like a little kid as Luke groaned. Rory had already sprinted off in the other direction clearly seeing where this was going.

Amy grasped Clara's hand and dragged her off up a hill barely pausing for breath when they reached the top.

"You realise we are grown adults playing tig?" Clara laughed with Amy from behind the big rock they were surveying the landscape.

"Correction: we are competitive grown adults playing tig, if you think anyone is gonna go easy on you, then you are in for a reality check- not even the Doctor will." She spoke in hushed tones as if she were on a secret mission.

"Why would John go easy on me?"

Amy just looked at her in what Clara thought was incredulity but said nothing.

A twig snapped and in return their heads snapped up to greet their new visitor. Rory held his hands up in surrender as Amy brandished a stick in his direction.

"Stay back, you might be on." Amy growled. She wasn't kidding about the competitiveness.

"As if Luke could catch me." Rory joked but when he was met with equal looks of disbelief he continued on. "Fine he could catch me but he hasn't, I think he's trying to get John back, plus would I really risk my place in a nice, cozy bed tonight by lying?" He seemed honest enough.

Amy appraised him before lowering the stick as a sign of alliance which she soon would regret.

Rory approached and started laughing. "If Luke hadn't got me, I think he was gunning for Clara, he's got a little thing for you- according to John."

Amy grinned and muttered to Rory, probably hoping for Clara to hear "Must run in the Smith family…wait if Luke hadn't got you?" A Cheshire Cat grin spread across Rory's face as he tigged Amy with no remorse, quickly fleeing as she screeched "You bastard!" After him.

Clara didn't stick around to find out how competitive she got. She also didn't want to be around when the fiery redhead extracted her revenge on Rory.

She darted through the trees artfully, making sure to keep her movements erratic to prevent being followed.

Wow, this competitive spirit seemed to be infectious.

She whipped her head round to check for a tail while continuously moving forward putting ground between herself and an angry Amy.

Rory's betrayal was not going away lightly.

She ended up back where they had begun mostly and cowered behind a small mound of dirt on the forest floor. This game was not big on dignity. She peered over, looking for any other players, where she saw Harold and Lucy Saxon stood like stone statues.

They had their backs to her but she could see Harold's firm grip on Lucy's arm as he hissed something into her ear.

She seemed to recoil from him but he only dragged her closer speaking again until she nodded bleakly and he eventually let go roughly. He strode off to where the two elder Smiths were sat and tried to insert himself into their conversation, whilst Lucy stood still as if she were awaiting orders, unable to join in the game…or move apparently.

Clara felt a rush of sympathy for the woman but when she rose to go speak to her she felt a larger hand slip into hers.

"Don't." A hushed voice whispered in her ear. "You'll only make it worse for her." Clara turned to see John and barely managed to realise the little distance between them before the scent of cologne hit her nose.

It was intoxicating and comforting at the same time and she had to physically restrain herself from burying her face in his knitted jumper. One thing she could do was make sure he never found out about that little thought.

"Wait you knew he treats her like that?" Clara accused.

"Please Clara everyone knows," he said it as if it were obvious, "the only people who could really do anything about it are my father, Lucy's father and Lucy herself and Lord knows none of them would dare intervene with how Harry leads his life- don't look at me like that if I could stop it I would."

"This is just the normal for you then? That poor woman gets treated like that and everyone just turns a blind eye? That's sick." Clara was a ball of fury and she almost physically fought John when he placed his hands on her shoulders, bringing his face to her level.

"Of course not, I wouldn't dream of-" He stopped with a sigh and looked at the ground for a moment before meeting her eyes again. "Harry has a wicked temper, probably a lot worse than yours or mine but he also actively tries to be the most charming man in the room- doesn't work when I'm there of course." He sniffed the air in a mocking manner but sharply carried on after Clara fixed him with a glare.

"All I'm saying is, no one would believe her for a start, not their friends and certainly not the tabloids and if Harry caught wind of her going to the police she'd get far worse," He looked down as if he were ashamed about what he was going to say next. "I tried to get her help once and do you know what happened?" Clara shook her head lamely.

"That bruise on her arm turned into a black eye, that was quietly covered up for a magazine spread the next day where she smiled like the happiest woman on the planet. Please don't be the reason she gets another, you don't want that on your conscience."

"I can't have not doing anything on my conscience either!"

"Leave it to me, I'm working on it. Just please don't put yourself on Harry's radar it's not somewhere I want you to be, promise me please," He looked at her his eyes a pool of warmth and sincerity as he pleaded and she couldn't do anything but nod.

"Promise."

"Good because we have a game of tig to win." And just like that something shifted and John was his usual self again.

Clara didn't know how he did it because for her, her mind was still racing and her heart still breaking for poor Lucy Saxon who still waited for her next command, alone.

She allowed John to take her hand and tried her best to shake it from her brain as John instructed, trusting that he would help.

"Ah so you aren't doing a Rory then." Clara joked, her voice still a little croaky as she forced it up her throat.

"A Rory?"

"He snuck up on us earlier, convinced us he wasn't on before getting Amy and sprinting off." John led her further through the forest upstream, the sound of the water getting louder.

"Ah a solid technique, I taught him everything he knows."

"Sure you did." Clara said unconvinced.

Just before them was a waterfall, only small but big enough to make quite a noise as the water hammered into the pool below. Different layers allowed the water to cascade down until eventually reaching a steep drop sending splashes of cool water to the surrounding areas.

Green moss covered the smooth, black rocks as if it were a blanket and light shone down like a halo through the trees granting visitors access to heaven.

"It's beautiful."

"It's a brilliant, strategic hiding spot."

"You're too competitive."

"You've got your head in the clouds."

They sparred back and forth edging a little closer each time to the point where Clara could feel the heat radiating from his chest and hear the soft thump of his heart.

John seemed to be about to say something or possibly about to lean in closer before ragged panting popped the bubble.

"John, John!" Luke sped round the corner, Sonic on his heels, "Amy's on and I think she's out for blood-" The teenager stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of Clara.

"Oh uh hi Clara, hi." He finished off with a little wave that he silently cursed himself for.

"Hi Luke," Clara smiled softly.

Maybe Rory wasn't joking earlier.

Maybe Amy wasn't either.

Nope- Not thinking about that today.

John strode up to him and wrapped an arm around his shoulder, not so discreetly whispering into his ear. "Smooth little man, smooth." Which caused a crimson blush to creep up Luke's neck to the tips of his ears.

He was luckily saved by the arrival of a terrified Rory.

"I may have angered the beast." Rory's face was a scarlet red, not because he was blushing like Luke but because he was seriously out of breath and seriously scared of his wife.

"Stand back, I know how this works, you pretend Amy's on and then get one of us. I'm right, aren't I?" She looked up to John as if for reassurance though she isn't sure why.

She also isn't sure why the smile he gave her filled her to the brim with a sense of pride, as if a thousand burning suns had been poured from the crown of her head to the bottom of her toes, warming her through and harshly burning her at the same time.

"Trust me, she's on, can't you hear the snarling and growling?" Rory did look terrified (even whilst making snide, sarcastic remarks) and as a logical person Clara tended to connect the dots in a straight line; which led to the conclusion that Amy was indeed on and out for blood.

The small group continued to cower in fear for any flash of red appearing amongst the trees. She seemed to be toying with them. A small part of Clara was praying Rory would be the sacrifice but she wasn't that naive.

When Amy finally emerged, she did so from behind. A tactical war had been waged by Rory and it was clear who would finish it and who would come out on top.

Amy flung herself at John with an animalistic howl, wrapping her legs around his middle and her arms around his neck, almost a piggyback but more of an assassination attempt, as she proclaimed loudly that he was on.

Luke and Rory were quick to escape as practised hands at this ridiculous game.

Clara was not so lucky.

She'd been on the floor with Sonic, giving him some rightfully earned attention and was currently mentally kicking herself for shrugging of John's sing-song warning ("If she comes you won't be able to get away quick enough").

Amy untangled herself quickly and, with her brief period of immunity, scampered off, pausing only briefly to wink at Clara who was still trying to untangle her limbs and escape Sonic's paws that were now holding her in place. Traitor her brain hissed almost jokingly.

Thats when she heard the low whistle escape John as he circled her like a vulture before crouching by her head and giving Sonic's head a pat.

"Hmm if only someone had warned you not to let your guard down… oh wait- I did!" He brought his hand to his chest in mock surprise and a wave of irritation crashed through Clara at his smug attitude.

"Well, I consider this cheating." She gestured to Sonic pinning her down. "You planned this."

"Please this is better than anything I could have planned." There was a period of silence as Clara (still on her back) blushed a light pink and John's mouth opened and closed as if he were hunting for breath realising what he had said. "I just meant-"

"No I know." They continued to awkwardly talk across from each other before John finally called Sonic off, who was wagging his tail very hard as if he understood what he was doing with two of his favourite humans very well.

"I'm willing to strike you a deal."

"How benevolent of you." Clara raised an eyebrow.

"Yes I know I'm so very charitable, they nominated me for a Nobel Peace prize purely for this moment." He grinned at her clearly thinking how funny he was and Clara internally refused to laugh.

Well she laughed a little.

"What do you think of theme parks?" Whatever she had been expecting it was not this.

"Hate them. Nothing worse, why would you subject yourself to that kind of terror and danger willingly?" A sly grin spread across his face.

"Oh I think you're a bit of a chicken."

"No I'm just not as insane as you are."

"Adventurous you mean."

"Same thing."

They stared at each other defiantly before John began to speak, creating a dramatic air as he did so. He was rather theatric.

"Right now, Harry will have annoyed my Aunt Sarah badly enough that she'll be begging my father to let us return home so she can sleep off her aggravation, he'll give in, in about oh lets say three minutes." He looked at his watch as if he were actually calculating something.

"In less than ten seconds I can make sure you're on." For effect he stepped even closer and placed his hands on each of her shoulders before clarifying with a wink, "This doesn't make you on, this is just my security."

"Get to the point John." Clara huffed.

"Shush. We have a little tradition when playing tig, it goes all the way back to our days at school. When the game ends- officially- the person who is on has to streak for the victors." Clara opened her mouth in protest but he brought his finger to her lips instead and suddenly she was too nervous to say anything ever again.

"I'm willing to offer you an out. Agree to go to Hedgewick's World of Wonders with me and I'll be on when my father calls us back." The sly grin turned up his face again as he leaned into her ear. "Either way it's a win win for me."

Clara gawped at him for a good thirty seconds before she realised that time was ticking.

The other players were well and truly away so there was no chance of winning even if she said no.

Rules of engagement meant she couldn't immediately get him back and he was too fast to catch.

She had her options.

Terror or shame.

A steely look entered her eyes as she met his gaze, the distance between their heights never feeling so small.

"Deal." She offered her hand, only slightly disappointed by his lack of surprise.

"No taksie backsies." She nodded her head in agreement, already the regret seeping into her pores and clinging to her bones.

When the game came to a close, almost to the second John predicted it would, they trooped back up to the house, the thoughts of tv, pyjamas and bed prematurely warming Clara through.

She found herself sandwiched between Amy and Rory, almost as a buffer or some form of protection for Rory.

She knew they were only joking.

She could sense the love between them and knew that they enjoyed this playful act they had going on and not for the first time Clara found herself mildly jealous of their comforting relationship.

As she watched John continue to frolic (for lack of a better term) through the fields with Luke and Sonic at his heels, she couldn't help but giggle at his upcoming fate, that for some reason he wasn't dreading.

At all.

Now wasn't the time to think about how she wasn't dreading it either.

"What's so funny?" Rory asked her with a quizzical look.

"Oh well this is the first time I'll be witnessing your 'tradition'" she put the word tradition in air quotes as she said it because surely it couldn't be that much of an occurrence. The more she thought about it the more she considered that it was actually quite a strange and sometimes unachievable tradition.

"What little tradition?" Rory looked to Amy as if he were missing something.

"What did he tell you?" Amy brought her finger and thumb up to the bridge of her nose in frustration already anticipating something was coming, she was ten steps ahead of Rory who was still confused. Clara was really properly nervous at what was coming next.

"Who?" Clara knew the answer.

"The Doctor of course!"

"Well he said whoever was on at the end had to strip and streak across the grounds in front of everyone…Am I missing something?" Rory started chuckling which soon turned into an actual laugh.

"What deal did you make with him?" Amy was trying to hide the upwards curve of her mouth behind her hand-badly. She knew from experience exactly what lengths John could go to just to get his own way.

"How did you know there was a deal?" They both just looked at her rather than replying. "He said if I agreed to go to Hedgewick's World of Wonders with him- which I'm frankly not looking forward to- he'd be on at the end of the game." This was the point where Amy snorted.

"Clara this is important: did he make you say no taksie backsies?" Rory, now slightly mellowed, managed to gasp out, to which Clara could only mutely nod.

"Oh that absolute git, he's still such a kid- rule number one Clara, the Doctor lies. We don't have a streaking tradition, you got played." Amy was howling at this point. Clara was not.

"OH MY STARS! You absolute bastard!" She screeched at him across the field and his floppy-haired head popped up.

"Did you figure it out then?" He grinned at her in a way that might have made her swoon had she not been about to kill him.

She set off into a sprint, forgetting her headache momentarily, chasing him down until they were both breathless and red from a delightful concoction of running and laughter.

"What do you think then?" Smith Sr's gruff yet somehow pompous voice questioned his sister, as they walked side by side, Harry Saxon desperately trailing behind them like a lost puppy.

"You were right, they'd make a great match and they might even do it of their own accord. She's pretty and funny and perfect in every way for him." Sarah's brother gave a stiff nod of his head as if it were high praise before she carried on.

"However there may be complications. The pair of them are stubborn and I don't think they'll take kindly to your meddling." She gave him the look that she had perfected from childhood especially for him. "And for another thing how can you be so sure they will settle each other down? Knowing John he'll have that girl gallivanting around the world with him rather than getting married and becoming you." The elder John gave a large guffaw.

"All I'm saying is be careful, let them develop naturally, the two of them must already be suspicious of the new living arrangements never mind your constant need to find ways to throw them together, I mean was this walk really necessary? My head is pounding!" She gave him a stern look that if labelled would have to be known as 'the Sarah Jane'.

"Luckily for you, the next outing won't involve us. I slipped an envelope for five fast pass tickets to Hedgewick's World of Wonders under his door this morning, hopefully he'll invite her along with Luke, Amy and Rory." He said Rory's name with unhidden disdain, still somehow personally offended at the 'wasted potential'.

The duo carried on walking, watching with secretive smiles at the young pair in front who had shifted their chase into an almost wrestle, ending up with Clara on John's back being carried the way back, her limbs wrapped securely around him as she pretended to strangle him in vengeance.

Her brother, for once, was right when it came to his son.

This girl was the ideal match for him and with a doubt they'd be society's sweethearts.

Sarah Jane privately hoped that in the desperate bid for the perfect image that their hearts were considered in the process.

A wistful smile spread across her face as Clara relaxed into her position her head nestled into John's shoulder, a familiar act for such a short period of knowing each other and John seemingly pulled her closer.

Sarah Jane didn't think they'd admit it, but she suspected the bickering pair tended to like each other a lot more than they let on and was determined not to let her calculating, yet idiotic brother ruin it.

What she didn't count on was the cruel, decidedly not idiotic brain of Harold Saxon who happened to have heard the entire conversation about their plans for John and Clara.

With a malicious glint in his eye, he pulled Lucy close (somehow she was still a willing coconspirator despite her dismal position) and whispered into her ear.

"John settling down to inherit everything as daddy intended? That just won't do." He pressed a soft kiss to her cheek whilst simultaneously gripping her hip tightly, harshly, any sign of pain now silent.

"What are you thinking Harry?" She crooned into his ear, always faithful even in despair.

"I'm thinking, my dear, that I put the effort in with everything whilst he swans about with it all handed to him on a plate." His eyes grew dark and unforgiving as he glared daggers into the back of his cousin who was blessed with a life of power and wealth and couldn't even pretend to be grateful for it.

"And I'm thinking that it's about time I show the world exactly what he is."