Relict

by LizzeXX

12/OC -Time Lady- The Doctor and his Bonded, the Professor, have escaped Tenzalore with their lives, new regeneration cycles, and their unborn child surviving their 'Fall.' But with the Promised Land being sought and another woman vying for the Doctor's attention in the Nethersphere, what will become of the Time Lords? What of their child? Or…children? Ninth in the Academic Series.

1. Deep Breath

A/N: Back again! Lol :) And the Academic Series will now resume with Series 8 ;) So, some of the basics, this is the ninth story of the Academic Series involving my OC/Time Lady the Professor (Kata). There are 8 stories before this one (Reunion, Recuperation, Relapse, Rebound, Revitalization, Remembrance, and Reproduction/Revelations (Revelations being the 50th special)) and they all really capture the history of the Professor and the Doctor's relationship and past, so I'd recommend reading them first for new readers :) This is also a Doctor/OC (pairing officially titled Keta) story :)

Some notes:

~8~ is a scene break

~/~\~ is a flashback (three per story)

'italics' is the Doctor/Professor speaking telepathically

The Academic Series is based in the Doctor and Professor's POV, so some scenes will be missing but as this is based on the show, I'm going to assume we all know what's going on in the background ;) Any scenes like that which include references to the Doctor can be thought to also include the Professor too if the context fits :)

I won't be putting a quick description of the Professor's 12th incarnation just yet, because she hasn't selected an outfit by this point nor a hairstyle, so all I can say is she's tall, with black graying hair, and green eyes and that an actress that is similar to how I picture her is Demi Moore ;)

This story should be updated on a daily basis which means a little less than 2 weeks for this story :)

Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who...otherwise we'd have more answers to our questions...

And now...on to the story, enjoy! :)

~8~

Deep Breath

"What do I do?!" Clara was shouting as she clung to the console, the TARDIS shaking and rocking and jolting about as they found themselves lodged in the throat of a T-Rex. She honestly didn't know how that had even happened. One minute they were crashing, then the Professor was taking charge and they stabilized, and then she seemed to burp out this odd golden-orange light and stumbled back like she was about to be ill, and then the DOCTOR took over and…

Ok, well, she DID know how it happened.

The Doctor had taken over piloting.

And then they ended up crashing into the Jurassic era, flying right into the mouth of a T-Rex as it was roaring up at them. She'd seen it on the monitor, it had swung over to her as the room tilted and turned. Her shouts about it had been what had pushed the Professor back onto her feet and had her running to the console to try and help. They'd disappeared into the Vortex, but she didn't know where they were going now.

"Just hold on!" the Doctor cried over the noise of the alarms and sparks going off on the console.

"And stay calm!" the Professor repeated.

"Have you ever tried staying calm in something that was crashing?!" Clara snapped.

"YES!" the Professor responded, making Clara wince. Her voice hadn't been snappish or irritated or angry, but just like she was stating a fact, which she was and Clara knew it. She was aware of the training that the Professor had gone through as an Academic on Gallifrey, how she'd been taken by the Time Lords and turned into a weapon, it was extensive. Of course the Professor would have been taught how to handle a crashing ship or things going mad around her. Adding onto the fact that those ships probably had windows that were closer and the Professor's fear of heights likely made for an even worse combination.

"Almost got it…" the Doctor grunted, at a lever, putting his full weight down on it as it locked, causing them all to fall to the floor in a heap when he managed to push it down and land them somewhere.

Clara panted, remaining still on the floor a moment, before she looked up. The Doctor and Professor had fallen facing each other, the Professor on her side, the Doctor on his stomach, the man reaching out to her hand instantly and helping her up slowly, moving her over to the steps to sit as he knelt before her, taking her head in his hands and eyeing her as though trying to make sure she was alright.

"Ok…" Clara breathed, pushing herself up as well, her nose wrinkling as smoke started to fill the room from the fires that had gone off around them, "Where are we?"

Her question was answered almost immediately by a knock on the door and a familiar voice calling, "Hello? Exit the box, and surrender to the glory of the Sontaran Empire!"

"Is that Strax?" Clara squinted at the door, waving the smoke away from her face.

The Doctor, however, just ran to the doors and threw one open, "Shush!" he snapped at the Sontaran, slamming the door shut and hurrying back to the Professor who seemed unsteady even just sitting there.

There was a pounding on the door again that made the Professor wince and rub her head, "Doctor?"

The Doctor rolled his eyes in irritation, dashing back to the door once more, "We were being chased by a giant dinosaur, but I think we managed to give it the slip."

"Doctor that isn't what happened," Clara began, stepping closer to him as he shut the door and made his way back to the Professor once again. She had asked them once, about regeneration, after the Time Tunnel when she'd seen the other versions of them, what it was, what it meant, how it happened, what could happen after it. She knew that amnesia and confusion was common, was a danger to happen, and she could see it now. The Doctor couldn't really remember what happened between Trenzalore and landing there. He knew there was a dinosaur, but he thought they'd been chased by it instead of landing right in its throat.

"Who was that?" the Professor wheezed as she massaged her temples.

The Doctor opened his mouth to answer, before blinking and, once again, running to the doors to look out at Strax, Clara now able to see the Sontaran standing there in his butler attire, "Sleepy?"

"Sir?" Strax asked, his voice mirroring the confusion Clara felt at that.

"Bashful?" the Doctor began to step out of the TARDIS, Clara rushing to the Professor's side as she tried to pull herself up and follow him, only to stumble and sway till Clara was able to stabilize her and help her over, "Sneezy? Dopey? Grumpy!"

"He's not a dwarf," the Professor mumbled, blinking rapidly at the change in light as they too stepped out of the TARDIS, "He's a Sontaran."

"Oh, and you two!" the Doctor rounded on Vastra and Jenny that Clara could now see were standing just a few feet away, it appeared they'd landed on the bank of the Thames, in Victorian London once more, "The green one...and the not-green one. Or it could be the other way round, I mustn't prejudge! Oh, you remember, er..." he pointed back at the TARDIS, snapping his fingers at Clara, "Thingy, the...er...the not-me one, the asking-questions one? Names, not my area unless it's the Professor," he looked over at her, "Alright there?"

The Professor nodded, reaching out to pat Clara's shoulder, "Clara."

"No, the Professor."

The Professor smiled slightly at that, "SHE is Clara."

"And you're the Professor."

"No, I was answering your…" the Professor burped out another golden cloud thing, waving it away along with what she was going to say, "Never mind," she grimaced a moment later.

The Doctor strode back to her, taking her head in his hands once more, lifting her face to look her in the eye, "What's wrong?"

"Are you snoring?" she asked him.

Clara could only look on, completely bewildered.

"No."

"Sounds like you're snoring. It's giving me a migraine."

The Doctor blinked at that before turning, "Oi," he called up to the dinosaur that was trapped by the river, roaring away, "Big man, shut it! You're giving my wife a migraine!"

"Big woman," the Professor corrected, "It's a SHE."

"You're the only woman I care about," he waved it off, not bothering to apologize to the large creature beside them that could very easily eat them all.

"Oi!" Clara frowned at that, "What am I, chopped liver?"

"You're a girl Clara," the Professor told her, and Clara wasn't sure whether to be offended by that, that she was being seen as a girl and a child to them instead of a grown women.

"Hey!" the Doctor rounded on the beast as it gave another roar that had the Professor wincing, "I said stuff it! Oh, what was that? You want a piece of me you overgrown lizard!"

"Doctor!" Vastra gasped, this time SHE was offended by the lizard remark.

Clara hurried forward, reaching out to the Doctor as he put up his fists, bopping around like he really was going to try and box with a dinosaur, "Doctor, listen to me. You...you need to calm down."

"I'm not flirting, by the way!" he ignored her, yelling up at the dino, "I've got a wife!"

Clara shook her head and looked at the Professor who was now leaning against the corner of the TARDIS, seeming very unstable on her feet, very pale and shaky, "Professor?" she stepped closer to her, reaching out to take the woman's arm, she was very cold too, "I think something's gone wrong…"

"It always does," she swallowed hard.

"Wrong?" that, for some reason, got the Doctor to turn around, striding over and tugging the Professor's arm out of Clara's hold, "What's gone wrong? Have you regenerated? There's nothing wrong with my wife, I'll have you know, she's perfect," he blinked a moment, squinting at Clara, leaning in to get right in her face, "I remember you. You're Handles! You used to be a little...a little robot head, and now you...you've really let yourself go."

"Oh shut up!" the Professor snapped suddenly as the dinosaur let out a loud roar, "Vastra turn the frequency down, will you?!"

"I'm sorry?" Vastra looked startled and confused.

"Your sonic lanterns trapping it, turn them down! You're giving her a headache and it's giving ME a headache!"

The Doctor just whipped out the sonic and held it up above him, the roar of the dinosaur starting to lower as he reset the frequency of the devices that were keeping the dino from rushing at them. He turned to the Professor, putting his fingers on her temples to massage them, "Better?" he rested his forehead to hers, wanting to help.

"How did she know?" Strax whispered to Vastra.

"Are you underestimating me soldier?" the Professor's head snapped up to look at Strax, frowning.

"No, ma'am!" Strax gave her a quick salute, jumping to attention, even after all this time, he and his Sontaran brothers still considered her an exceptional soldier and higher in rank. An insult to her would be dishonorable.

"Come on, Clara," the Doctor rolled his eyes at the Sontaran, "You know that we speak dinosaur."

"That's not Clara," the Professor told him.

He looked at her, "It's not?"

"He's not Clara," Clara agreed, moving to stand beside Strax, "I'M Clara."

"Well, you're very similar heights," the Doctor waved it off, "Maybe you should wear labels."

"Doctor…" the Professor suddenly reached out, grabbing his waving arm, "Doctor."

"What is it?" he looked at her, frowning deeply.

"I don't…" she mumbled, blinking rapidly, her words starting to slur as her free hand moved to her stomach, "I don't feel so…"

And before she could even finish, the Professor nearly fell forward, the Doctor's arms being the only thing that caught the unconscious woman before she hit the ground.

"Professor!" he shouted, slowly lowering her, moving to sit on the ground with her, "Professor!" he shook her, "Proffy!" he tried, before grimacing, "Oh that's rubbish…why did I ever call you…" he flinched, cutting himself off, breathing out a golden-orange cloud as well, watching it drift up above Clara, Vastra, Strax, and Jenny, and squinted at them, "Why...why are you all doing that? Why are you..." he seemed to struggle to speak, his grip on the Professor tightening even as his words grew softer, "You're all going dark...and wobbly, stop that!"

"I don't think we are," Clara warned him lightly.

"Never mind!" he shook his head, which only made him sway where he was sitting, as though the motion were making his entire body move, "Everyone...follow the Professor's example…take five."

Clara blinked as he promptly passed out, falling to the side, next to the Professor, the woman still held firm and safe in his arms as his world went black.

~8~

The Doctor was pacing before a bed that the Professor was lying on, the woman dressed in a white nightgown that Jenny had politely changed her into, the woman dead to the world as she slept on, oblivious to the Doctor walking back and forth across the bedroom he'd woken to find himself in, deaf to his shouting at Vastra while the woman stood, most unamused, before him.

"It's simply misunderstandable to me," he was huffing, "I don't know what it is," he gestured around the room, "Who invented this room?"

"Doctor, please, you have to lie down," Clara entered, holding the door open for Jenny who had two cups of tea on a small tray.

"It doesn't make sense!" he shouted, moving in front of the bed as though he were protecting the Professor from something, as though this was an utterly serious conversation about why bedrooms existed, "Look, it's only got a bed in it. Why is there only a bed in it?"

"Because it's a bedroom, it's for sleeping in."

"Ok, what do you do when you're awake?"

"You leave the room," Jenny said slowly, truly not understanding at all why the Doctor was acting like he didn't know what a bedroom was for.

"So you've got a whole room for not being awake in? But what's the point? You're just missing the room!"

"Doctor, you and the Professor HAVE a bedroom too," Clara stepped cautiously towards him, "Remember? On the TARDIS? You've got a bedroom and a bed and it looks like this…"

"It doesn't look anything like this!" he countered, glaring at her and glancing at the mirror to the side of the room, pointing at it as though to warn them all away from it, "And don't look in that mirror, it's absolutely furious."

"Doctor, please, you have to lie down," she gestured at the bed, "You keep passing out."

"Well, of course I keep passing out," he rolled his eyes, throwing his arms in the air, "There's all these beds!"

"Yes, and the Professor is on one of them, right now," she tried to entice him with that, with his wife, get him to lie down beside her, "Don't you want to rest? Have a little nap with her?"

"I'll wake her if I just flop down on it!"

"You'll wake her if you keep shouting too," Jenny muttered.

The Doctor just frowned at them, looking between them with squinting eyes, "Why do you keep talking like that? What's gone wrong with your accents?"

"Nothing's wrong with our accents," Jenny defended.

"You sound the same," he whispered, stumbling back as though it were a horrifying notion, "It's spreading. You all sound all...English. Now you've all developed a fault!"

"The Professor sounds the same as us!" Clara yelled.

"No she doesn't," he frowned, "She sounds lovely. You sound all…funny! What is it with the funny accents!?"

Clara shook her head at him, half-throwing her arms out to the side in frustration, half tempted to wake up the Professor and let the woman deal with her husband, but she'd tried it before, twice. The first time the Doctor had gotten in her way, had kept her back, had actually looked at her as though she were some sort of threat to his wife, which hurt. But the second time, he'd been passed out and she'd just wanted to rouse the Professor because she'd slept through 2 other explosions of his and she was worried the woman might be in a coma or something. She really was hoping that it just meant that this version of her was a very, VERY deep sleeper, because the Professor hadn't stirred at all and, the fact that the Doctor wasn't freaking out about her still sleeping, had to mean that she was ok, right?

Vastra eyed the man a moment, adopting a Scottish accent reminiscent to the one he was currently speaking in, "Doctor, I need your help with something."

"Finally," the Doctor sighed, pointing at Vastra, "Someone who can talk properly."

"Are you having any difficulty sleeping?" Vastra stepped towards him, dropping the accent as she took his hands and led him to the other side of the bed.

"Oh…" the Doctor remarked, "Oh, well, I never bother with sleep, not real sleep, not unless the Professor gets her way, I just do standy-up-catnaps."

"Oh, really, how interesting. And when do you do those?"

"Well, generally whenever anyone else starts talking. I like to skip ahead to my bits, it saves time. Not the Professor though, I always listen to what she has to say, she's usually right and gets to the point faster than humans do. She's worth listening to."

"Do you know," Vastra sat him on the edge of the bed, "What she would say right now?"

"That the dinosaur is making a ruckus."

"That you should go to sleep," Vastra corrected.

"She wouldn't say that," he shook his head, frowning, starting to eye Vastra suspiciously, "She would say we should see to that bloody dinosaur."

"Well then," she gestured to the Professor, "You should wake her up then."

"Why would I do that?"

"So she doesn't miss the fun of dealing with the dinosaur. You know as well as I that she'd be rather cross if she woke up to find you off having an adventure without her."

The Doctor started to nod at that, "Yes she would," he began to reach out for her, when Clara stepped forward.

"But she's…" she began, about to say that the woman was pregnant and needed her sleep, that waking her might make her cranky and irritable and worse than the Doctor, but Vastra gave her a firm look to be quiet.

"Just…reach out to her mind, Doctor," Vastra continued, "Tap into your psychic link with her…"

The Doctor nodded, leaning back onto his left elbow, reaching his right hand across him to her face to brush a lock of hair behind her ear, before he pressed a finger to her temple…

And promptly collapsed beside her, half sprawled out across the bed, his head turned towards hers, his chin on her shoulder, his arms all squished beneath him and awkwardly lying on top of him, his legs hanging off the edge of the bed with only one touching the floor.

Vastra sighed and shook her head at that, the last thing the Doctor able to hear was her words, "I love monkeys, they're so funny."

~8~

Clara stood over the Time Lords, fussing with the blanket that covered them, standing guard in a way though she wasn't sure over what. She and Jenny had managed to get the Doctor onto the bed properly, hadn't been able to help but smile when, even as they shifted him, his head never turned away from the Professor but hers had turned more towards him. Even in sleep they were aware of each other. It was…odd, to look at them now, it had been even odder after they'd stepped out of the TARDIS and she'd been able to get a good look at them. Seeing the man in the purple suit had been disconcerting, even more so to see the Professor dressed in her white skirt and jean jacket, it was such a youthful outfit for a woman that was so much older than she had been. She didn't know how it had happened, how they'd both regenerated into someone older at the same time, like they knew what was coming and were trying to match each other. The Professor looked a tad younger than the Doctor, but her age was still apparent, in the gray wisps in her black hair, in the slight wrinkles that pulled at her cheeks and eyes and neck and hands, in the age she saw in the woman's eyes and how she carried herself. She had aged far more gracefully than the Doctor had, but she'd still aged.

She might even be able to get away with calling them Gramps and Gran now without people looking at her funny.

She'd handled this better than she thought she would, all of this, she half expected to freak out, to wonder how to change them back, to judge them. But she'd been in the time tunnel, she'd seen their other selves, she'd MET two of them for the Doctor and one for the Professor just recently. She KNEW they changed and couldn't change back. It didn't make it hurt any less that the ones that SHE knew were gone and only the older strangers remained. It hurt to know that they'd died and she'd never see them again unless the timelines went wobbly again. It didn't bother her that they'd changed, she was actually thrilled that they were still alive after hearing that they should have been at the end of their lives on Trenzalore, the end of their regenerations. She was just…it bothered her that they were dead in a way, that it happened so quickly. It would have been easier if they'd regenerated in their fiery blasts and morphed before her eyes, but this had been too sudden, just a blink and they were gone, had given her hope to see them the same and then for them to vanish.

THAT was what bothered her, but still…she was just so thankful that they were alive and going.

"It'll be alright," she murmured to the two of them, tucking the blanket up more, "You two just rest and…when you're ready, you wake up and…we'll talk."

She nodded to herself, stepping back and moving over to the window, looking out at the dinosaur in the distance, still roaring, but far less loudly than before.

"I'm…alone," Clara tensed as she heard the Professor murmur behind her and turned to look at the woman.

"What?"

"The world which...shook at my feet, and the trees…and the sky," the Professor breathed, her face scrunching more, "Have gone...and I am alone now...alone."

"Are you translating?" Clara moved back towards the bed to sit on the Professor's side, she really, REALLY hoped that the Professor was translating and not just talking in her sleep, if that was possible, did Time Lords really change their habits THAT much when they regenerated? She really hoped not, because she didn't want that to be what the Professor was dreaming, that she was alone, not when she was there with the Doctor, when they'd saved Gallifrey, she didn't want her to feel alone.

So, just to be safe, she picked up the Professor's hand and held it.

"The wind bites now..." the Professor continued, "And the world is grey...and I am alone here…" Clara frowned, watching as the Professor's face scrunched, her head turning to the side more, nuzzling the tip of her nose against the Doctor's, "Can't see him. Doesn't see him. But…I can…"

"Who can't see it?" Clara frowned at that, "I think all of London can see it."

"Boy?" Clara looked over as Strax appeared in the doorway, "Madame Vastra is waiting."

Clara sighed, nodding, knowing that Vastra was going to test her again, she had…vague memories of when she'd met the woman as the governess, remembered some sort of word test, but this was even more serious she knew, because Vastra hadn't had a chance to test the original yet, "Ok," she got up, following him out, "Whatever."

She cast one more look at the slumbering Time Lords, unable to help a small smile when she saw the Doctor shift slightly, his hand moving to rest on the Professor's stomach.

~8~

The Doctor jolted up in the bed, sitting up stiffly with a large inhale before his head turned to the Professor, checking on her first. He'd gotten a whiff of something, something he was deeply sure should have woken her but she was still sleeping. Her sense of smell was exceptional even on a bad day and he knew, with pregnancy, it would just get stronger, but there she was, sleeping away, not even stirring as he shook the bed in his abrupt awakening. He leaned over, resting his forehead to her temple, just wanting to take a moment to ensure she was well. The regeneration, getting a new cycle, it was turbulent and with the baby…he knew she had to be exhausted. He had spent 800 years on Trenzalore without her and he was loath to do anything that would risk losing her now. He just…he HAD to make sure she was alright, that they were all alright. He gently stroked her stomach, unable to feel their baby, it was too small, her belly had hardly even begun to bump yet and was largely still flat, but he liked to think he could feel it, hear it, connect to it even now. He breathed deeply, letting it out across her cheek as he realized she really was just tired from the regeneration. Each one was different, each affected them differently, and even though he'd spent 800 years trapped on a planet and growing older and weaker, she had to have been going out of her mind trying to get back to him, that stress, and then the battle, and then him dying, then her dying and the regeneration…it was a lot to ask of a pregnant woman.

"You rest, Kata," he murmured in her ear, pressing a kiss to her temple, before he got out of the bed, wincing and cracking his back.

He looked over at the window, able to hear the dinosaur still lamenting its predicament and rolled his eyes, turning to sniff around the room, trying to find what he'd whiffed before. His mind was racing and so cluttered with thoughts that he just needed an outlet. It was too active, he wasn't like the Professor. She could compartmentalize, organize her thoughts, shut them off and turn them away and bury them when she wanted or needed to. His mind was far too active and jumbled, while she could sleep, he needed a calm mind. And normally it would be holding her that would calm him, or other activities that would tire him out so much he drifted off, but that wasn't going to happen right now. He could hold her, but he was so afraid of waking her too soon, not wanting to risk what had happened when Rose had woken him before he was ready, he didn't want to put her through more pain. So he just needed something to do to get the thoughts out of his mind so it could calm and he could rest.

He was starting to feel his age now.

He grinned when his nose brought him to a radiator where a piece of chalk had rolled underneath. He turned, getting to his knees and started to write on the floor. Oh he knew the green one (or was it the not-green one? Which one was green anyway?) would be cross with him for marking up her floors, but it was chalk, it would rub away, and it wasn't like she'd understand what he was writing anyway. So he wrote, and wrote and wrote and wrote, till he'd covered almost every square inch of the floor…with the Professor.

He nearly chuckled at that, seeing sketching of her and things he remembered her saying to him, images of the Pika flowers she loved so much, a rendition of the Moment, her past incarnations and little facts he'd gleamed of her over the years…in Gallifreyan of course, he would not risk anyone reading those secrets but him. Especially not about where a rather uniquely shaped freckle had been on her last body, no that was for him to know and him alone.

He'd missed her, terribly, during the 800 years. He honestly and truly had NO idea how he'd managed to survive it. It was boring the first 300 years or so, more the enemies trying to sneak into Christmas and him thwarting them. But then the war had really started and, by then, it was running about and fighting off new enemies and so many other things that he hadn't had time to eat or sleep for the most part. But he had missed her, in every waking and sleeping moment, he thought of her endlessly, wondered if their child had been born, if he missed it, if she'd try and come back and trick him so she could stay with him. He'd had 300 years to think of how she'd react and to guess at what she'd do, it was quite probably the only way he'd been able to get her to stay away the second time, guessing what she'd do and preventing it. And then another 500 years without her had been utter torture.

And now he had her back, now they were together again and he was NEVER going to let anything separate them again…

Well, once she woke up.

He glanced over at the window, hearing the dinosaur roaring again, louder this time. He looked between it and the Professor, taking a step towards either, as though he were trying to decide which to go to first. Before he sighed and moved to the Professor's side, kneeling down to kiss her cheek, "You rest," he repeated, "I'll see to all this ruckus," he got up and looked at the door, "Door," he huffed, "Boring. Not me," and ran for the window, grinning as he opened it and looked up at the roof, at a pipe leading up to it, "Me!"

He looked over his shoulder at the Professor, making sure she was still sleeping, before he climbed out the window and up towards the roof. His wife was trying to sleep and that dinosaur was making an awful lot of noise and he would NOT have it.

Once he was up onto the roof, he looked at the dinosaur, "Oi!" he cupped his hands around his mouth to try and be louder, be heard, "Oi! Oi, overgrown lizard! Oi! Sorry. Sorry, it's all my fault. My time machine got stuck in your throat and my wife was in a bit of a bind to help. It happens. We brought you along by accident, that's mostly how I meet companions but that's not you though. Still, don't worry, I promise as soon as we're both right as rain we will get you home. I swear, whatever it takes, till then, if you agree to be quiet, I promise I will keep you safe. And you will be at home again."

The dinosaur bursting into flames before his very eyes was NOT something he expected to happen next.

"Stop that," he breathed, turning to look over his shoulder as though to ask someone something, "Who's doing that?" he winced, "No, no, she's sleeping," and turned back to the dinosaur, watching as it collapsed to the ground in a ball of fire, "No, don't do that!"

He frantically looked around, trying to find a way off the roof and to the ground, needing to investigate. Dinosaurs didn't just burst into flames which meant someone had done it to the creature and, given the time period, the only ones that could do something like that were those with alien technology. If someone was there with that sort of firepower…

"Firepower," he chuckled at the word.

…then he and the Professor were in great danger, or they might be, he wasn't sure but he wasn't going to risk finding out. THEY were the ones that brought the dinosaur there, it would only be a matter of time before whoever had done that to the beast came searching for who brought it there. He grinned as he caught sight of a large tree near the other corner of the house and took off for it, jumping off the roof and reaching for the branches…only to severely miscalculate and topple through the limbs of the tree, smacking branch after branch till his legs got caught up on one limb and left him hanging upside down from it.

"Good, good," he muttered to himself, "Very good."

Very good indeed that the Professor wasn't there, jumping off trees in her condition, not that he doubted she would have been able to make the jump. She'd probably have calculated the distance from the house to the tree and the speed needed and the height of the jump and what branch would be the best to grab and she'd have gotten down easy peasy…yes, best that she hadn't seen him falling through a tree and get stuck like this.

He'd never hear the end of it in the future and it really would be just ONE time this happened.

…on Earth.

Ok, so his experiences climbing trees on Gallifrey hadn't always been the best, still…they'd made the Professor laugh and that was always a plus.

He tilted his head to the side, the world finally coming into focus from his fall, allowing him to see a horse and carriage making their way towards him, upside down. Well they should really fix that, what good was a horse and carriage on the ceiling going to be?

"Halt!" he called, making the driver stop, "Sorry, I'm going to have to relieve you of your pet!"

"You're what?" the man on the driver's seat shook his head at the Doctor, looking at him as though he were mad.

"Shut up, I was talking to the horse!" he huffed and shifted, wiggling himself off the branch and turning so that he landed on the horse, sitting up on its back. He pulled the sonic out of his pocket, glad that he'd grabbed it and stuck it in the pocket of his dressing gown when he'd tried to escape before…and passed out. He flicked it on the reins, cutting the horse free with a cheer.

"What are you doing?!" the driver cried.

But he just spurred the horse on, "Forwards!" he grabbed the horse tightly as it reared up before taking off down the road, heading for the river, "Left!" he ordered, trying to direct the horse, but only ending up tugging the horse the wrong way, "No, no! Right, right, right, right! Sorry, it's my new hands, I can't tell them apart. They're not as dainty as the Professor's, not as interesting," he frowned a moment, "DOES she have dainty hands now?" he knew the last her had, she had dainty everything then, "Must find out…" he shook his head as the horse neighed, "No, no, you're right, after this. I'll examine her hands after this. Oi! Watch it on the corners," he cried as the horse took a sharp turn, nearly sending him flying off the back of it, "It's a bit slippery up here!"

He jerked back on the reins a bit more tightly than he intended, making the horse whinny in discomfort, but it stopped just at the edge of the bridge, allowing him to hop off and stumble towards where the dinosaur had burned up. He hopped onto the edge of the bridge, looking across the way, watching the remains of the dinosaur, the flames only just starting to grow dimmer.

"Sorry," he whispered to it, "Sorry. I'm sorry, sorry, sorry."

"Doctor!" he didn't even look back when he heard Clara shout out, having glimpsed a carriage chasing after him, recognizing it as Vastra's, it wouldn't be long before they had come to investigate themselves, he'd just gotten there first, "What's he doing here?"

"There is trouble," Vastra replied, "Where else would he be?"

"What about the Professor?" Clara began looking around, as though the woman would pop out from nowhere.

"Oh she's sleeping," the Doctor rolled his eyes at her, "You think I'd wake my wife up, my pregnant wife, my pregnant newly-regenerated wife, up from sleep when she needs it? I might be a madman but I'm not that mad."

Clara shook her head at that, trying to take a step closer to where he was, to see the dinosaur more, "What happened?"

"She was scared," the Doctor murmured, "She was scared and alone. We brought her here and look what they did."

"Who or what could have done this thing?" Vastra shook her head, it was too much, she and the others had been monitoring London in their era, keeping tabs on any sort of alien tech, nothing had come up.

"No," the Doctor slowly shook his head.

"I'm sorry?"

"No," he continued, "That is not the question. That is not where we start."

"The question is how," Strax tried to nod, more bowing his entire body up and down instead, "The flesh itself has been combusted..."

"No, no, shut up!" the Doctor snapped, "Proffy tell them to shut up," he winced, "Professor…" he winced again, she was sleeping, he had to remember that, he HAD to remember that. Because if he didn't remember that the Professor was sleeping, his mind would drift to his time in Christmas, he'd start to think that she was off somewhere and he was alone again, without her. Or worse, he'd start to think that the second regeneration cycle that she'd been given was just a dream and she'd died on that battlefield. No, he HAD to remember that she was still there, just sleeping, "What do you all have for brains, pudding? Look at you," he glanced back at them, "Why can't I meet a decent species? Planet of the pudding-brains!"

Clara almost scoffed at that, though she had to admit she was curious what the Professor would say if she were there. The woman had told her that she and the Doctor had always loved humans, saw them as the most indomitable and outstanding species, if the Doctor could change to that opinion, what of the Professor? She shook her head, now was not the time to wonder or feel offended, not when she knew that the Doctor wasn't in his right mind just yet…and especially not when he was still standing on the bridge ledge, "Doctor...I know you're upset, but you need to calm down and talk to us. What is the question?"

"Can't you tell?" he turned, Clara gasping silently as he nearly seemed to slip but caught himself so quickly she wasn't sure if he meant to do it or not, "Has the Professor not taught you how to use your eyes yet? Notice everything Strax!"

"I'm CLARA!"

"A dinosaur is burning in the heart of London," the Doctor continued, ignoring her, "Nothing left but smoke and flame. The question is...have there been any similar murders?"

Vastra blinked at that, "Yes! Yes, by the Goddess, there have!"

The Doctor looked over, frowning when he noticed more and more humans had gathered around, up and down the Thames, staring at the dinosaur and the flames, "Look at them all," he muttered, Clara frowning when she saw him jerk his head over his other shoulder, as though expecting the Professor to be there, "Gawking!" he looked down a moment, forcing himself to remember the Professor was back at Vastra's, so he rounded on them again, "Question two. If all the pudding-brains are gawking...then what is he?" he pointed over towards the gathered humans, only one of them just walking past the river's edge, not even glancing over, not even curious.

"He seems remarkably unmoved by the available spectacle," Vastra frowned.

"Do you think that's whoever..." Clara began.

But the Doctor didn't bother to hear the rest of her question, just jumping off the bridge and into the water.

"What he's doing?" he heard Clara shouting, able to glimpse her leaning over the edge of the river to watch him, "He'll drown!"

"I very much doubt it," Vastra remarked.

He rolled his eyes, as though he'd drown, HE had been the one to teach the Professor to swim. And, thinking of her, he swam harder, he had to solve this and quickly, it was…intriguing and while he wanted nothing more than to solve this mystery with the Professor, he wanted her to sleep more, he wanted her safe, and he wanted to be with her.

So the sooner he worked out what was going on, the sooner he could return to his wife.

~8~

The Doctor was sifting through rubbish that was scattered around an alley just as the sun was starting to rise, still in his nightshirt, pausing only when he found a mirror. He quickly picked it up and looked at himself, curious what the new him looked like, "Really?" he muttered, "Is THAT it?" he nearly grimaced at the sight of him, old, wrinkly, bushy eyebrows…

He could still remember the Professor, what she looked like, tall, timeless, still remarkably tempting, her hair only just starting to go gray while his was all gray and curly. Her hair was long, very long, had grown almost to her mid-back last he saw of it. And her eyes, they were green, he remembered that, the first thing he saw, her green eyes and his…they were blue, too blue. Yes, it was possible to be too blue. They were too pale, made him look owlish. And his eyebrows, really, did they HAVE to be so bushy while hers were so delicate? And the wrinkles, he looked like an old man while she would forever be a timeless beauty. How would she even be able to look at him, kiss him, when he looked like that?

He tossed the mirror away, this new him…was more cynical wasn't he? He knew that wouldn't happen, the Professor loved him, had loved every version of him even when he'd been an old man before. She hadn't looked at him any differently on Trenzalore when she'd seen the last old him. And when they regenerated, she hadn't looked at him any differently either so it was utter poppycock to think she'd turn away from him just because he got old. The Professor wasn't like that, and they were married, and they were going to have a child together…

He let out a sigh at that, he could just imagine what the humans would say, seeing an old couple with a baby, probably think they were babysitting their grandchild. Well that was their problem, his child would love them both, he was sure of it. If the Professor had aged as the Master had made him on the Valiant, he would still think she was the most lovely woman to grace the planet and consider himself lucky to be the one she loved. He knew it was the same for her, she loved him, not his body (though he was sure being attractive and youthful helped) but she loved HIM, all of him. So…that probably included his body as well.

He spun around, hearing a small crash to see a tramp had stumbled upon him, had tossed his bottle to the side, "Bitey!" he pointed at the man.

"Bitey?" the fellow frowned.

"The air...it's bitey, it's wet and bitey."

"Oh, it's cold!"

"That's right," he cheered, "It's cold! It's cold, I knew it was a thing. Good thing the Professor stayed back then, it's TOO cold," he moved to walk towards the rubbish lying around, examining it again, "Yes, I'll just have to tell her that when she wakes up. Oh she'll be furious, no doubt about that, she loves a good adventure, but I'll just tell her it was too cold out for a pregnant woman to be walking about in in her night clothes," he tugged at his own nightshirt and then spun to the tramp, "I need, um...I need clothes. I need clothes, that's what I need," he rubbed his neck, "And a big, long scarf. Maybe the Professor could make me another?" he looked at the tramp, as though waiting for an answer, before he grimaced, "No, no, move on from that, it would look stupid on me now, no I'm not a scarf man. The Professor though…" he paused to consider it, how she'd look with a scarf on, but he was biased, she'd look good in twigs and mud, "No," he shook his head, "No making a new scarf, no…pointy things, no pointy, sharp needle things in the hand of a trained weapon/hormonal pregnant woman," he spun to the tramp again, "Are women that dangerous this early in a pregnancy?"

"What?" the tramp just stared at him.

"Have you seen this face before?" the Doctor asked, dead serious, as though he had asked THAT question instead this entire time."

"No…"

"Are you sure?" he leaned in closer, getting right into the man's face.

"Sir, I have never seen that face," the tramp stepped back.

"Right, why am I asking you anyway," the Doctor scoffed, "The Professor's better at faces anyway. SHE'D know. It's just funny, because...I'm sure that I have. You know, I never know where the faces come from. They just pop up. Zap!" he turned, flashing his palms out at the tramp, making him jump, "Faces like this one. Wonder where she gets her faces from," he paused to consider the Professor, he couldn't recall ever having seen her faces though, not somewhere else. But he shook his head and reached out to grab the tramp, tugging him over to the mirror he'd found before, "Come on, look at it, have a look, come on, look, look, look. Look, it's covered in lines!" he poked a wrinkle, "But I didn't do the frowning. Who frowned me this face? It wasn't the Professor, she was all smiles. Maybe it was the other me, the last me," he hummed, "He was frowny all the time, except when the children came round, missed the missus," he added, explaining more to the tramp but only serving to make the man think him more bonkers, "800 years without the wife does make one a frowner. Do you ever look in the mirror and think, 'I've seen that face before?'"

He didn't know why he couldn't let it go, but the face staring back at him was just too familiar.

"Yes?" the tramp asked hesitantly, unsure of the mental stability of the man that was gripping his arm.

"Really? When?!"

"Well, every time I look in the mirror."

"Oh, yes, yes, yes, fair enough," the Doctor nodded, "Good point. My face is fresh on, though," he argued, "The Professor's is even fresher, less liney, more smiley…is it smilely? Was she smiling?" he couldn't quite recall, it had been crashing and running and sleeping for the most part. He liked to think she was smilely, hoped she was, hoped HE could make her smile, "But why this one?" he started to think, the tramp taking his distraction to try and slip away, "Why did I choose...this face? DID I choose this face or did this face choose me?" he turned and started to walk after the tramp, "It's like I'm trying to tell myself something, like I'm trying to make a point. But what is so important that I can't just tell myself what I'm thinking?"

"Er…"

"I'm not just being rhetorical here, you can join in," he told the man, before waving him off, "Never mind, you're not the Professor, SHE would get the point. She would know…she'd know what's so important and she'd tell me exactly what I'm thinking! I should go find her," he turned to start off but then spun around, back to the tramp, "Do you think she'd like it?"

"Like…what?"

"The face!" he gestured at himself, "What do you think?"

"I don't like it?"

"What?" he frowned.

"Your face."

"Well, I don't like it either," he sighed, "The Professor won't either, will she?" he turned back to the mirror, examining himself, "Well, it's alright up until the eyebrows. Then it just goes haywire. Look at the eyebrows! These are attack eyebrows! You could take bottle tops off with these! Ooh," he smiled, "Maybe she'll like the eyebrows, powerful eyebrows," he started to nod, "Strong ones…not delicate."

The tramp eyed him oddly, trying to make his way further back, complimenting him, "They are mighty eyebrows indeed, sir."

"They're cross!" the Doctor continued, "They're crosser than the rest of my face. They're independently cross. They probably want to cede from the rest of my face and set up their own independent state of eyebrows," he straightened, a thought hitting him, "That's Scot...I am Scottish. I've gone Scottish?"

"Oh, yes, you are," the tramp nodded, "You are definitely Scots, sir. I...I 'ear it in your voice."

"Oh, no, that's good," he started to smile, "Oh! Oh! It's good I'm Scottish, I'm Scottish. I am Scottish. I can complain about things, I can really complain about things now! Though…" he frowned, "Best keep that light around the wife, don't want to complain about her, not that I could, she's absolutely perfect. Still…pregnancy," he paused, considering all the things that might happen in the next few months. He only had one experience with pregnancy, the Professor's cousin, his wife…and it had been a nightmare, an utter, absolute nightmare and, while he doubted the Professor would EVER be as bad as Mayra, still…you never knew with pregnancy, and even now with regeneration. He was sure buttons would be pushed and tempers might flare, especially if he was, in fact, Scottish now, but he couldn't imagine complaining about any of it, not when it meant he'd have a child at the end of it, a child with the Professor, with his Bonded, "Give me your coat," he rounded on the tramp, his entire line of thought changing now.

He should NOT have left the Professor alone with only Clara, Vastra, Jenny, and Strax to protect her. Oh he was sure she'd be able to hold her own even in the middle of sleep, but HE wanted to be there, HE wanted to protect her. He felt it now…he felt that…instinct, he could feel something changing in him, a sort of…length he would go for her and their child extending. For so long, the Professor had protected him, been the strong one, or tried to be, been the one with the quick draw and the reacting faster, but she was pregnant now. He knew it would make her all the more protective, but this time it was HIS time, it was HIS duty and his desire to protect her, to REALLY protect her. He wanted to be there for every single second of this pregnancy, and HE wanted to be the one to keep her safe…

And he'd left her with the pudding-brains.

"No," the tramp frowned, pulling him from his thoughts.

"I'm cold," he stated, as though it explained his need to take the man's coat.

"I'm cold!"

"I'm cold," he repeated, "Well, there's no point in us both being cold, give me your coat. Give me your coat!" he reached out, about to grab the coat in question, before he spun around, "No, wait. Shut up, shut up! Shut up! I missed something," he breathed, the thought hitting him in the gut, before he let go of the coat and hurried back up the alley, "It was here, it was here. It was...what was it I saw, what did I see? Ooh, Professor never should have left you there, you'd see it first…keen eyes," he muttered, before his eyes fell on it, "Ah ha!" he grabbed a newspaper and held it up, "This is what I saw! Spontaneous combustion!" he pointed to the headline, 'Fourth Case of Spontaneous Combustion.'

"What devilry is this, sir?" the tramp shook his head, completely confused by what was going on before him.

"I don't know," he eyed the paper, "But I probably blame the English."

~8~

The sitting room of Vastra's large home was quite busy come the next day, near lunch time. Strax was pouring tea while Clara and Jenny studied a map, and Vastra examined a newspaper, holding it up before her, trying to spot something, anything, that would help them. Clara had come running in while she and Jenny had been trying to work out the dinosaur's mysterious spontaneous combustion, along with a handful of other similar cases, ranting about a newspaper ad…one that was addressed to 'the Impossible Girl.' She claimed it HAD to be from the Doctor somehow, a clue where she should meet him because he'd gone and disappeared on them, leaving them to guard the slumbering Professor who was still upstairs in a dead sleep.

"There appears to be nothing of significance in the rest of the newspaper, not even in the agony column," Vastra sighed, turning to look at Jenny and Clara more clearly even while she held the newspaper up.

"We can't know it's from the Doctor," Jenny remarked.

Clara however, shook her head, "Of course it's from the Doctor," she made her way over and pointed to the ad, "The Impossible Girl, that's what he and the Professor call me!"

"He says lunch," Vastra tilted her head, eyeing the paper as Jenny joined them as well, "But not when or where?"

"'On the other side?'" Jenny frowned at that, there really wasn't much to it, just a note for the Impossible Girl to come to lunch on the other side, and that was it, "The other side of London? Bit vague."

"The other side of regeneration, perhaps, once he's recovered?" Vastra offered.

"So what am I supposed to do?" Clara huffed, "Guess where we're meeting?"

"Or you could use your eyes," a voice called, a slightly deeper voice than Clara was used to, a bit more of a rasp to it, "And notice everything."

"Professor!" Clara gasped, seeing her standing there in her nightgown, a small shawl draped over her shoulders as she clutched it to her. She still looked a bit unsteady on her feet, but hopefully that was just from waking up. She'd slept soundly through the night and it was near lunch now, she had to be nearly through her regenerative cycle by now, more settled, more stable…or so she hoped.

"You have worked out the other side?" Vastra inquired, knowing that, in any incarnation, the Professor would not likely want attention on her weaknesses but on something else.

The Professor nodded and slowly entered the room, yawning slightly, almost like she was bored, and stopped across from Vastra and the others, the paper between them, "The other side of the paper," she pointed to a spot on the paper through which she could just about see 'the Impossible Girl' written above it.

Vastra quickly pulled the paper back, twisting her arms to look at the back of the paper and turning to catch the light, allowing all three women to spot what the Professor had.

"Mancini's Family Restaurant!" Clara spotted, "That's where he wants to meet!"

The Professor blinked as she caught sight of a small time listed on the actual Impossible Girl ad and nodded, "And it appears we have to hurry or we'll miss him."

"We?" Clara pulled the paper down to look at the Professor who nodded, "Are you sure?" she asked hesitantly, "You just slept for a while and you passed out and you're pregnant and…"

"And my husband is off running around London on his own," the Professor cut in, matter-of-factly, crossing her arms, "HE has never had the best reaction to regeneration. Lord knows what he's gotten himself into while I was sleeping, which," she added, "I am none too pleased he didn't wake me for…"

Clara had to smile at that, recalling how Vastra had used that excuse to get the Doctor to sleep in the first place.

"And besides," the woman shrugged, turning to make her way out of the room, "I'm pregnant. I'm hungry. I could do with some lunch."

~8~

"Mancini's," the Professor nodded as she and Clara stood across the street from the restaurant, Clara with the newspaper in hand.

The Professor wriggled a bit in her period outfit, one that Vastra and Jenny had insisted she wear so as to blend in and not alert whoever it was that had attacked the dinosaur to spot her. She'd been a bit putout that the dinosaur had apparently died and she'd slept through it…and even more so to learn that the Doctor had decided the best course of action was to jump in the river. But she'd agreed in the end to dress the part. But the dress was a bit too snug for her liking. Vastra and Jenny were both very slim women and, even though she wasn't quite showing just yet, her body WAS changing and it made the already tight gown feel even more confining. It was more incentive to get this over with and solved so she could get out of the offending garment and actually pick clothing she'd enjoy.

"Do we just go in?" Clara wondered.

But the Professor was already off, crossing the street and heading for the doors, making Clara roll her eyes and dash off after her. At least that was still the same, the Professor going head first into danger, though this time it was more a controlled walk than a giggling half-skip/half-run for it. The woman came across, from what she could tell as more…of an adult than her last self. But, granted, the woman had only been awake all of a half hour so far, she couldn't really say what she might be like once it had all settled.

The restaurant was rather posh but also quite quaint, very silent as well, no one conversing or making any other noise which seemed to put the Professor on edge as she eyed the people intently from where the host stand was. But when no one came to seat them, they entered and moved to a free table in the back, well, the Professor picked the one in the back, it gave a full view of the restaurant and there was nothing behind it to sneak up on them. It was a tactical observation point, or that was what Clara assumed the Professor would have called it had she said anything between entering and sitting down at the table. They reached out and picked up the menu, Clara a bit shocked that the Professor was actually intently reading it despite the fact that it would give her an opportunity to observe the others over the top of it like she was trying to do.

It appeared she really WAS hungry.

Clara frowned a moment later though, sniffing as a rather rank smell drifted over to her.

"You jumped in a river, all clean, and decide to put THAT on?" the Professor put her menu down and turned to the Doctor who had dropped into a seat beside her, the Professor in the middle of them, pulling a napkin off the table to press to her nose and mouth.

Clara opened her mouth to ask her what she meant, before the full force of the smell hit her and she began to wave her menu under her nose to waft it away.

"What's wrong?" the Doctor frowned at them, reaching out to put a hand on the Professor's free one as it rested on the table.

"You stink," the Professor told him.

Clara choked on a laugh, still blunt as ever she was, though then she noticed the coat the Doctor was wearing was soiled and worn, "Where did you get that coat?"

"Er...I bought it," he offered.

"From where?"

"Er, a shop."

"You took it off a tramp, didn't you?" the Professor gave him a look.

"I did not," he defended.

"Then with what money did you buy it?"

"I bartered it."

"For what?"

"A watch."

Clara shook her head sensing less of a flirty nature to their back-and-forth and more of a sort of…domestic feel to it, "That watch was beautiful," she cut in, trying to stem it off.

She knew they might be different now, but she was rather sure that there was no way in all the different versions of hell in all the universes and other dimensions that the two Time Lords would just STOP flirting the way they did. They were too…TOO flirty, that would never change, she was sure of it, they'd start all domestic, bit of a husband/wife spat and it would somehow end up twisted into a flirt, she knew it, she could FEEL it coming, she just could. She didn't doubt they'd go on about how they shouldn't have bartered it because they had a wardrobe in the TARDIS, and the Doctor would comment on how SHE had dressed up, and she'd say it was borrowed not purchased, and he'd come up with some line that they should have bought it because it was lovely on her, and she'd respond that his coat looked horrid on him, he'd pout, and then she'd amend by saying something else on him was adorable or what not and…

Oh dear god…were they going to do the adorable old-people flirty thing?

Her Gran, when her grandfather had been alive, she had never seen two people flirt as much as them, and even more because they were old and they had all sorts of memories to flirt through and because they never knew if the next day or next word was going to be their last and they wanted it to always be a good and kind thing to say that made them smile and…

They were, weren't they?

They were going to do the old-people flirting.

"It was my favorite," the Doctor nodded.

"You swapped your favorite watch for that coat…that's maybe not a good deal."

The Doctor shrugged, "Better deal than trading my favorite person," he smiled at the Professor.

"I doubt you'd be able to get much for me," the Professor countered.

"The entire Universe would be the only thing that would suffice…" he curled his hand around hers on the table, "And even then I wouldn't make it."

The Professor smiled at that, "I wouldn't trade you for anything either."

Oh…dear…lord…they were SO going to do the old-people-flirty-thing.

"Hello," the Doctor smiled at the Professor, taking her in, finally being able to get a good look at her. But he frowned a moment later, "What are you wearing?"

The Professor groaned and nodded, "I know, it's horrid."

It was a sort of dark orange corseted top, long sleeved with slightly poofed shoulders, a tight waist that had a skirt with a bit of a hump to it. There was a white button up shirt under it, ruffled around the chest and neckline and pinned closed with a white sort of ascot thing. It was thick and made of wool, and just…utterly hideous…but apparently it was the fashion of the time. Her hair had been yanked and pulled up into a slick bun of sorts, but with strands curled near the sides of her head, sticking out like wisps, and irritating her. She was quite sure that Strax (she had NO idea why the women would trust the Sontaran to touch hair when he didn't seem to know what it was) had pulled her hair so tightly into its styling that she was getting a headache from it.

"Brings out your eyes though," the Doctor tried to amend.

"And that coat…does NOT bring out your charm," the Professor grimaced, "It reeks."

Clara had to smile at that though, the coat really WAS rank. But then she saw the Doctor point across the table at her with a grin and her eyes widened, "No, no," she shook her head, leaning in to hiss at him, "Don't, don't...don't, don't smile. I will smile first and then you know it's safe to smile."

"Are you cross with us?" the Doctor frowned at her.

"Yes," the Professor told him, Clara had been…oddly silent on the way over, not normal for the overly-talkative girl.

"I am not cross," Clara argued, "But if I was cross it would be your fault and...yes, I am cross. I am extremely cross."

"Is it because we changed our faces?" the Professor glanced at her.

Clara shook her head, "I would be cross if I wasn't cross!"

That seemed to mystify the Doctor, "Why?"

"Why?" Clara scoffed, "An ordinary person wants to meet someone that they know very well for lunch, what do they do?"

"Well, they probably..." he trailed off, "I don't know."

"You've never asked someone to lunch before?" Clara gave him a disbelieving look at that.

"Not recently," he remarked, reminding her it had been 800 years for him since he was able to see them, "And before that…have you met my wife?" he gestured at the Professor, "What use would I have to ask anyone but her to lunch and we don't really do the asking thing…"

"Speaking of not doing the asking thing," the Professor cut in, "Your coat, Doctor," she gave him a pointed look.

He frowned a moment, not entirely sure what she meant, before his eyes widened and he quickly tugged it off and tossed it away, as far as he could, "Better?" he reached out to touch the hand by her mouth, slowly lowering the napkin from it.

She breathed deep, "I can still smell it…but better, thanks."

"See," the Doctor pointed at Clara, "No need to actually ASK."

And he was SO relieved that was still there, that he still understood what she was asking and saying without her needing to vocalize it fully. He'd tried to keep her in mind during the 800 years, go over everything he remembered of her, everything he knew, keeping her most fresh in his mind…because he hadn't wanted to give her up, not like that, he hadn't wanted to lose a single memory of her. To know that he could see her again and still feel like they'd only just spoken (if he ignored the crippling pain in his heart when he thought about how it really had been 800 years without her) made his hearts soar. He supposed it was practice after all, he'd spent centuries without her between separating from her cousin and finding her again, only catching glimpses of her and then reunite and end up Bonded. If he could do it once, he could do it again, though this time they'd reunite and have a child together.

Still…just because he'd survived it twice, he was NOT willing to risk it a third time. This was it, the two of them, starting from their first bodies all over again, as it was meant to be, the two of them together.

"Fine," Clara huffed, "Well in the context of a NORMAL, non-Time Lordy telepathy thing, what would you do when you want to meet up for lunch?"

The Doctor was silent at that.

"Oh my god, you really have NO idea do you?"

"You'd get in touch and suggest lunch," the Professor answered.

"Yes," Clara nodded, before focusing on the Doctor again, it was HIS message after all that had gotten them there, HE was the one who had run off on them, "So what sort of person would put a cryptic note in…in a newspaper advert?"

"Well, I wouldn't like to say…" the Doctor began.

"Oh, go on, do say."

"Well, I would say that that person would be an egomaniac, needy, game-player sort of person."

"Thank you," Clara exhaled, "Well, at least that hasn't changed."

"And I don't suppose it ever will."

Clara managed a smile at that, "No, I don't suppose it will either."

The Professor shook her head at them and picked up her menu once more, though this time keeping her gaze just above it at the others in the room. Neither Clara nor the Doctor actually had any idea what they were both talking about, did they?

"Clara, honestly..." the Doctor looked at the girl, "I don't want you to change. It was no bother, really. I saw your advert, I figured it out, happy to play your game."

"No," Clara shook her head, "No...no, I didn't place the ad. You placed the ad."

"No, I didn't. "

"Yes, you placed the ad, and the Professor figured it out! Impossible Girl, see, lunch?" she grabbed the paper and held it up to him, the Professor leaning back in her seat to allow them to talk while she carefully examined the people there, not about to get involved in this.

"No, look," the Doctor sighed, tugging the paper out of Clara's hand to show her the ad, "The Impossible...that is a message FROM the Impossible Girl."

"FOR the Impossible Girl."

But really, this was probably going to go on forever and if she was to be a mother she should probably work on stopping bicker-matches, "Neither of you placed the advert."

"What?" both Clara and the Doctor turned to her.

"This paper," the Professor picked it up, placing her menu down, "Everything printed in it was done prior to last night, it couldn't have been either of you, at least not now. Perhaps in the future but…"

"Hang on," Clara cut in, turning on the Doctor, "'Egomaniac, needy, game-player?'"

"That means this could be a trap," the Doctor ignored Clara, focusing on the Professor.

"That was me?!"

"Oh I think it is," the Professor agreed, subtly nodding at the patrons of the restaurant, making the Doctor look over at them, stiffening as he too saw what she had.

"You were talking about me?"

"Clara, what is happening right now in this restaurant to you and me is more important than your egomania," the Doctor cut in.

"Nothing is more important than my egomania!"

"Right, you actually said that."

"You never mention that again!"

"Oi, children!" the Professor cut in again, her voice a low hiss, "Focus…we ARE in danger, right now."

"What?" Clara looked at the Professor. THAT was different, the woman actually sounded serious, actually sounded like she didn't want to be in danger at the moment. Usually she and the Doctor were so excited for it, ready to rush into it, laughing and flirting in the face of it…but right now she was serious. She nearly had to force herself to remember that the two Time Lords had regenerated, they were meant to be different now…still it was disconcerting.

The Doctor reached out and plucked a single hair from his head and held it up for the three of them to see.

"What are you doing?" Clara whispered, "And that isn't the only grey one, if you are…er…having a cull."

"What, do you have a problem with the grey ones?" the Doctor looked at her.

"If I got new hair, and it was grey, I would have a problem."

"My hair's a bit grey," the Professor looked at her again, "Problem with that?"

"Well…"

"I don't," the Doctor spoke, making the Professor turn back to him, he reached out a hooked finger, locking a strand around the small curl by her face, seeming rather frowny that the hair wasn't down. At least that hadn't changed, he still seemed to love her hair.

The Professor smiled, reaching up a hand to run her fingers through his shorter hair as well, "Neither do I," she sighed, "But your hair is too short to make it visible to Clara," she remarked, plucking a hair from her own head to hold up.

"What ARE you two going on about?" Clara shook her head, she was used to them not telling her everything, but they usually explained more than this. It was almost like they'd forgotten she was there.

"We're trying to measure the air disturbance in the room," the Professor told her, dropping her hair, the three of them watching as it fell straight down, landing on the table with a light curl.

The Doctor nodded at that, his gaze drifting to the other patrons as well, watching them, noting how they were moving, mechanically, lifting spoons to their mouths, bringing napkins to their lips, pulling teacups closer to them…without actually doing anything. They weren't eating or drinking or even releasing, just going back and forth like they were on repeat.

"There is something extremely wrong with everybody else in this room," the Doctor murmured, "Everybody but the Professor."

"Mmm, basically, don't you always think that?" Clara quipped, trying to tease, trying to get that familiar joking between them all again.

But the Doctor was silent and serious and grim, as was the Professor who reached out to touch her arm, "Look at them, Clara," the Professor whispered to her.

"Don't look!" the Doctor shouted as Clara turned her head to peer at the others.

"The Professor just said to look!" she huffed.

"Look without looking!"

"Use your eyes," the Professor agreed, picking up one of the menu's pointedly, giving Clara the idea to lift hers as well, "Notice everything."

Clara frowned but picked up the menu once more, "They look fine to me. They're just eating."

"Are they?" the Doctor scoffed.

"Ok…" Clara breathed, finally seeing it, seeing how everyone else was lifting the food to their mouths but not actually eating, just jerking back and making the same motions, "No. No, they're not eating."

"Which is rather pointless," the Professor sighed, "They've all got food, but aren't eating, meanwhile I'm starving."

"I'll make you a 10-course dinner when we get back to the TARDIS," the Doctor promised.

The Professor hummed at that, "CAN you cook?"

The Doctor blinked at that, "I have no idea," he admitted, "Suppose we'll find out then."

"We have to get out of this first."

"Yes, yes, how to do it…"

"Can't we just rush out?" Clara shook her head at them, honestly not sure what the whole issue was, no one in the room was really moving, they could be quick and get out.

"No Clara, we can't," the Doctor told her, "Because something else they're not doing," he reached out and quickly plucked a hair from Clara's head this time, letting it drop straight down again, "Breathing," he added just at the end, making the hair move.

Clara stiffened at that, looking out at the people, not sure exactly what it meant for them. Were the people robots, or corpses, or some sort of alien that breathed something other than oxygen? She didn't know, but she did know that the Time Lords were focused and when they focused it was because the danger was pressing, "What do we do?"

"I'm going to say not eat," the Professor sighed, sliding the menu away from her, her hand moving over her stomach, the Doctor dropping his onw over hers, his thumb stroking the skin on the back of her hand even though he kept his gaze on the patrons.

"How long before they notice that we're different?" Clara whispered.

"Not long."

"Anything we can do?"

The Doctor hummed, "How long can you hold your breath?"

Clara gave him an unamused look at that, "We could just casually stroll out of here, like we've changed our minds."

"Happens all the time," the Doctor agreed, looking at the Professor who nodded.

"Course it does," Clara smiled, the three of them standing up…

Only for every other person in the room to do the same.

They looked at each other and tried to take a step away from the table, but the other patrons moved towards them instead, the same thing happening with their next step as well.

Clara sighed, looking at the Time Lords, "We could...take another look at the menu," she offered, the three of them quickly sitting down, the patrons mimicking them as well, resuming their tasks while the trio picked up the menus, "What are they?"

"Robots," the Professor answered promptly, assessing them with her eyes, they held themselves too much like the Pilot Fish, like robots.

"Better question," the Doctor frowned over his menu, "What is this restaurant?"

"That…I don't know," the Professor frowned.

"Can't you do that scanning hand thing?" Clara glanced at the Professor.

"On an entire restaurant?" the Professor shook her head, thinking of her Academic-trained ability to scan objects with just a touch, "It would take too long, hours to get a schematic of the whole thing…"

They looked up when a waiter approached their table stiffly and just…stood there, staring at them, not breathing either.

"Er...no sausages?" the Doctor tried to buy time, "Do you...and there's no pictures either. Do you have a children's menu?"

"Bit early," the Professor mumbled to him, her hand still on her stomach, feeling his tensing on hers, knowing he didn't want the waiter, want any of the others to be this close to her.

The Doctor frowned more when the waiter just held up a pen at them, a light shining out of it as it scanned him, better him than the Professor, he wasn't going to risk any odd alien tech causing radiation on his child or her, "Any specials?"

"Liver," the waiter stated, its voice entirely too flat to be normal.

"I don't like liver."

The Professor, though, hummed at that, "Liver and strawberries would be lovely."

Clara grimaced at that, not expecting the odd cravings to be that…odd.

"Spleen," the waiter continued, ignoring them, "Brain stem. Eyes."

"Is there a lot of demand for those?" Clara went a bit green.

"I don't think that's what's on the menu," the Doctor told her, "I think we are the menu."

Clara gasped as the waiter turned on her, scanning her as well, "Lungs. Skin…"

The Doctor quickly jumped to his feet when the man turned the scanner on the Professor, "Excuse me," he called, reaching out and grabbing the man's face, pulling it down to reveal there was nothing underneath save a pilot light burning in the 'skull' of it all, "You were right," he nodded as the Professor stood, "Definitely a robot."

The Professor frowned and reached out as she stood, taking the mask that the Doctor was holding, dropping it on the table instantly, going twice as green as Clara had been, "It's a face."

"Yeah, it's very convincing," Clara nodded, poking it with the knife beside her plate.

"No…Clara," the Professor put a hand to her mouth, actually feeling like she was about to be sick, "I mean it's a REAL face."

"Oh!" Clara jumped back from it.

"Yes," the waiter stated out of nowhere.

"Yes, what?" the Doctor turned to him, taking a step back, more in front of the Professor, the positioning of the table not allowing for her to push herself beside him even if she tried.

"Yes, we have a children's menu."

"Oh god," the Professor nearly gagged at that, her hand pressed more firmly to her mouth and stomach, the Doctor's hand that he hadn't let go of hers with, gripped her and tightly, no longer resting on it but holding it behind his back as they realized it wasn't just a children's menu…but that children had been ON the menu as well.

The three of them stumbled back when something locked around their legs, forcing them back against the booth they'd been sitting on, the suddenness of it causing them to fall back down on the seats as more metal straps and restraints locked around them, around their arms and chest and waist, pinning them down as the booth began to tremble, lowering into the floor.

"You've got to admire their efficiency," the Doctor commented.

"Is it ok if I don't?" Clara muttered.

"Bit primitive," the Professor frowned, "If they're the ones that attacked the dinosaur, this is a bit too simple…"

"Oi, can we focus?" Clara looked at them, "What do we do?!"

But the Time Lords were silent, looking up and down, wiggling in their seats, till the booth came to a stop at the bottom of what appeared to be a shaft. There was a room before them, rust everywhere from disuse, and it wasn't empty. There was a man sitting on a chair before them, his back to them, but they could see even from their angle that half the man's face was missing, revealing nothing but a robot with a human eye underneath. There were other figures there as well, some in shadow, some visible in the dim light of the chamber, but all of them were standing, motionless, around the room, set in small alcoves.

"Hello?" the Doctor called out, "Hello, are you the manager? I demand to speak to the manager."

"This is not a real restaurant, is it?" Clara whispered.

"It's more a sort of automated organ collection station for the unwary diner. Sweeney Todd without the pies."

"Pies…" the Professor started to smile, "Peaches and cream…"

The Doctor looked over at her and couldn't help but smile, "Bit of a fruit kick you're on, aren't you?"

"Pregnant," she shrugged, it was odd really, the cravings and hunger pains hadn't really hit her before the regeneration, not like now. She was really trying to focus on the situation, but every time someone mentioned food it was like her train of thought switched tracks. The more she thought about food the more it made her hungry and the hungrier she was the more she thought about food.

This was going to prove to be quite a dilemma wasn't it, if she couldn't focus in a situation like this…

"Well, I don't think human pies would be very appealing," Clara huffed, "So how about we focus yes?" oh this was SO weird, usually it was the Professor making the Doctor focus on something and now SHE was doing it for both of them, "So, where are we now?"

"Factually, an ancient spaceship, buried for centuries by the look of it," the Professor looked over, "Functionally...more a larder."

"So why hasn't somebody come for us?" Clara frowned.

"We're alive," the Doctor answered.

"We're alive in a larder."

"Exactly. It's cheaper than freezing us."

"Ok…" Clara shook her head, not sure if she should be happy she wasn't being frozen or frightened she WAS actually being kept in a larder.

The Doctor leaned forward, looking at the Professor, "Can you…" he nodded down at his pant pocket where the sonic was sticking out though his hands were too pinned down to be able to get it.

"I can't reach it," she shook her head, straining her arm, but they were pinned down, "Maybe if you…"

"Yes," he nodded, "I was just thinking that…"

"Are you two talking in your heads and out loud again?" Clara eyed them.

"No," they answered at the same time, they genuinely just knew what the other was going to do, not everything they knew came from telepathy.

"Ready?" the Doctor glanced at the Professor.

"Go for it," she nodded and he wiggled in his seat, wiggled and jerked more and more till the sonic came out of his pocket and fell to the floor, the Professor reaching out her feet to grab it as it fell with more reactive time than Clara knew she'd ever be able to hope to do in her life. This time she looked at the Doctor, "Ready?"

"As you are," he nodded in return and the Professor jerked her legs, the sonic tossing into the air and landing just by his hand, "Perfect!"

The Professor beamed at that as the Doctor hurriedly activated the device, freeing his arms and legs from the restraints and doing the same to the Professor, his hand briefly resting on her stomach till she nodded before he moved onto Clara.

"You should make that thing voice-activated," Clara remarked, nodding at the sonic…only to see the Doctor look away, "Oh, for God's sake, it is, isn't it?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

The Professor frowned at that, reaching out to put a hand on his as it held the sonic, 'What is it?' she asked in his mind, not about to let him NOT talk about it.

'Christmas,' was all he had to say for her to nod and understand, it was something he'd done to the sonic while alone on Christmas, on Trenzalore.

'I can fix it back,' she offered and he nodded, reaching out to take her hand in thanks, knowing she was aware of just how much he wanted to forget that time had ever happened, that he'd spent so long away from her.

The only consolation he had was that, in sending her away, he could be there for her and their child now, he hadn't missed out on their son or daughter's life.

"Are those things robots too?" Clara's voice brought them back, making them look over to see her stepping into the room more, eyeing the figures that were set up in the alcoves.

"Yes," the Professor nodded as they joined her.

"Dormant," the Doctor agreed.

"How do you know?" Clara glanced at him.

"I don't. I'm just hoping."

"If they were active," the Professor offered, "They would have attacked by now."

Clara looked around the room at that, "So...is it these guys that killed the dinosaur?"

"Well, if they're harvesting organs, a dinosaur would have some great stuff," the Doctor mused.

"Why would robots need organs? Burke and Hare from space?"

"No, but that's a good theory. Droids harvesting spare parts…" he murmured that last part, "That rings a bell."

"The USS Madame de Pompadour," the Professor mused, the Doctor looking over at her for that, "With Mickey and Rose," she smiled a bit ruefully, "My first adventure with you," she reached out and took his hand, "We were on the USS Madame de Pompadour, the clockwork droids were…"

"Harvesting people for spare parts," he nodded, recalling it now. He glanced over, seeing the droid with half a face sitting there, the only one sitting, meaning he had to be different than the others, "Captain, my Captain."

"Can he see us?" Clara hesitated to get closer, unlike the Time Lords that both got quite in its face to examine it.

"Dormant."

"Hoping?"

"More confirmed," the Professor shook her head, reaching out to point at a wire that was running out from the man and across the floor, "He's recharging. For now, he's asleep."

The Doctor nodded, waving his hand in front of the droid's face and still it didn't move, "Doesn't even know we're here."

"Are you sure?"

"Sure, not sure," he shrugged, "One or the other."

Clara let out a breath at that, she'd have liked a more firm answer, "Ok, so half-man, half-robot. A cyborg, yeah?"

"No," the Professor shook her head, "Cyborg implies it was human first and adapted with robot parts."

"And…that's not this one?"

"No," the Doctor shook his head, "Look at the hands."

"What about them?" Clara shook her head, staring down at the two hands resting on the chair.

"Look at them."

"I'm looking."

"But are you noticing?" the Professor gave her a look, reaching out to grab the hands, pulling them closer together for Clara to see them side by side, "They don't match, Clara. These hands don't belong to the same body."

"Patchwork people," the Doctor mumbled, "Rings a bell as well."

"House," the Professor reminded him, "Auntie and Uncle."

"Right."

"I don't understand," Clara shook her head.

"I don't blame you," the Doctor muttered, "See, this...this is not your normal cyborg. This isn't a man turning himself into a robot. This is a robot turning himself... into a man, piece by piece."

"That's what the restaurant's for," Clara realized.

"Just like on Hedgewick's World," the Professor gave her a look, "They need a constant supply of spare parts."

"You can tan skin, but organs rot," the Doctor agreed.

The Professor leaned in, holding her breath so as not to smell anything as she eyed the metal just barely peeking out from beneath the robot's flesh, "Some of that metalwork looks Roman."

"Wonder how long it's been around," the Doctor peered at it as well, Clara stepping back to allow them their examination, "How much of the original is even left."

"Well the eyeballs look very fresh."

The Doctor reached out and quickly pulled the Professor back when the robot jerked its arms, "Bit slow there?" he grinned at the Professor, "I'M the old one in the equation."

The Professor just shook her head, "I was distracted."

"By what?" he nearly laughed.

"Eyeballs."

He gave her a look, "Don't tell me you were craving…"

"Maybe this me is Greek!" she huffed, defending herself, knowing that a very nice Greek delicacy was lamb eyeball. Mmm…lamb would be nice, with a bit of blueberries…

"Is it awake?" Clara whispered to them, cutting off their discussion about food to focus on how the robot was slowly walking, placing its arms back on the chair, the metalwork under its skin, the visible part, the gears and devices within starting to move.

"It's waking up," the Doctor nodded, before shrugging, "I think," he glanced at Clara to see her pointing towards a door on the other side of the room, clearly wanting to leave, and this time he agreed, "Ok, let's go," they turned, backing out slowly and quietly, heading through the door.

Clara paused just at the doorway, glancing back at the clockwork man, turning around to follow the Time Lords out…only for the door to slide shut before her, separating her from them, "Doctor!" she gasped, "Professor!"

"Clara!" the Professor called as they ran back, the Doctor flashing the sonic on the door, able to get it to start going up, but not enough for Clara to slide through, and too slowly to get open quickly enough.

"Hurry!" Clara glanced back at the clockwork man as it began to stand from its seat, pulling the plugs and wires out of himself.

The Doctor caught sight of it as well, "Sorry, too slow," he reached out and grabbed the Professor's hand, "There's no point in them catching us both."

"Well, give me the screwdriver!" Clara reached a hand towards the small window in the door, wires running across the opening but allowing her to get her fingers through.

"We might need it," the Doctor said simply, flicking the sonic to close the door, giving Clara one more look before turning and pulling the Professor away.

"Doctor!" the Professor struggled, trying to pull him back, to make him stop without actually hurting him, "We can't just leave her."

"It's her or us," the Doctor said as he got her around a corner.

"She's our granddaughter," the Professor pulled her arm out of his hold.

"And YOU are my WIFE," the Doctor rounded on her, reaching out to her but taking her hand more gently this time, "Kata…" he breathed, "I spent 800 years without you," he stated shaking his head, "I may not know the sort of man I am now, not yet, but I know that I, any version that I am, will NEVER want to lose you. We'd have been trapped, we'd have been hurt, we could have lost…" he stopped talking, his other hand moving to her still-flat stomach, "I can't risk you and I can't lose you and if that means choosing you over anyone and everyone else…when haven't I done that?" he looked at her.

She let out a breath at that, glancing back over her shoulder, able to hear Clara shouting for them as the clockwork man, as some sort of robot, spoke to her, threatened her, threatened Clara to tell them what she knew or that she'd be killed, and turned back to him, "We'll have to, one day," she reminded him, putting her hand over his on her stomach, "The day will come where someone else WILL be more important than we are to each other."

"We have months before that happens though."

The Professor winced, hearing Clara bargaining for her life, not caring, not about to reveal a single word to them. Clara was clever, was buying time, appealing to the logic she knew the human was hoping a robot would operate on, if she was dead she couldn't reveal secrets, so she needed to be kept alive in which case their threats were meaningless because they couldn't harm her or kill her.

"Do you remember the last thing we'll say to her?" the Professor asked him, "When we call her."

The Doctor grew silent at that, allowing the Professor to hear more of what Clara was saying, how she refused, even under pain of torture, to give up ANY of their secrets, ANY information about them.

"How can we expect her to help us, if we won't help HER?"

"You and your sense of honor, Kata," he muttered.

She just grinned, "My sense of honor keeps you honorable as well Theta," she reminded him.

"Fine, fine, fine, fine," he nodded, rushing past her, his hand held firmly in hers as they hurried back towards the door, able to hear Clara shouting about crying and how she was scared.

The Professor could feel the Doctor's grip on her hand tighten at that, knowing he was being hit by the guilt of his reaction for leaving Clara alone like that. 800 years had done a number to him, 800 years of gripping onto any memory of her with both hands and refusing to let it go. He'd spent so long, so many centuries, thinking about his wife and child, that she'd become central to his thought process, everything revolved around her more so than ever before, more so than even his Companion. And she knew he'd regret it, if anything happened to Clara because he'd reacted to wanting to protect his wife first.

But that was why he had HER to remind him. Because while he'd been on Trenzalore, thinking about her, SHE had been with Clara thinking about him, but she'd been WITH Clara at that time, all that time, and she didn't have the centuries separating her feelings of closeness from the girl they saw as a granddaughter.

"Why did you kill the dinosaur!?" they heard Clara shouting as they reached the doors, peering through to see her being backed up by the clockwork man, his hand replaced with a blowtorch.

But, while it was terrifying to see her being threatened like that, the noise of the torch and her talking could let them get to work without being noticed as the Doctor pulled out the sonic and began to lift the door.

"We will not answer questions!" the clockwork man stated, seeming to have repeated that often.

"Then you might as well kill me, because I'm not talking again till you do."

The Professor watched, keeping lookout on Clara as the Doctor worked to get the door open as the clockwork man lowered its torch-arm, "Within the optic nerve of the dinosaur is material of use to our computer systems."

"You burned a whole dinosaur for a spare part?" Clara gaped at the robot, before shaking her head, "No, no, hang on. You know what's in a dinosaur's optic nerve, which means you've seen them before."

"Where are the other ones?"

"How long have you been rebuilding yourselves? Look at the state of you! Is there any real you left? What's the point?"

"We will reach the Promised Land."

"The what?" the Doctor grumbled under his breath, the door halfway up.

"Promised Land," the Professor repeated quietly, "But which one?" there were many in many planets for many species.

Clara seemed just as curious, "The what? The Promised Land? What's that?"

"Where are the other ones?" the clockwork man repeated.

"I don't know," Clara told him, "But I know where they will be...where they will always be. If the Doctor is still the Doctor and the Professor is still the Professor, then they will have my back," they just barely got the door open enough to slip in, seeing Clara slowly backing up towards them, her hand reaching out behind her, "I'm right, aren't I? Go on. Please, please, God, say I'm right. My grandparents would NOT abandon me…I know they wouldn't…"

The Doctor reached out and grabbed Clara's hand, the Professor holding back, knowing HE had to be the one to do this, that he had to make this up to Clara and be the one to save her.

"Hello, hello," the Doctor pulled Clara behind him, into the Professor's arms as the Time Lady looked over the girl, making sure she hadn't been harmed while he faced off with the clockwork man, "Rubbish robots from the dawn of time, thank you for all the gratuitous information. Five foot one and crying…"

"You never stood a chance," the Professor agreed, turning to face the clockwork man, pulling Clara closer to her, an arm around Clara's shoulders as the woman nearly sagged in relief.

The Doctor glared, shoving the clockwork man's torch-arm down as the robot tried to lift it and activate it, "Stop it!" he pulled the sonic out of his pocket and flicked it on, shoving it into a port on the clockwork man's body, pulling it out once it got a lock on the robot's power source, "This is your power source, and feeble though it is, I can use it to blow this whole room if I see one thing that I don't like, and that includes karaoke and mime, top of the list being any single threat directed towards my Bonded," he gestured behind him to the Professor, his gaze locked on the clockwork man.

"Why are you here?" the clockwork man inquired though it made no move to try and lift its arm again.

"Why did you invite us?" the Doctor demanded, "The message, in the paper...that was you, wasn't it?" given the way the clockwork man stared blankly at him, even more blankly than a robot could, and tilted its head, the Time Lords both realized that no, these robots had nothing to do with it. Their trap would have likely been better had they planned this, "Oh," the Doctor grimaced, "I hate being wrong in public."

"I hate being wrong in general," the Professor mumbled, even SHE had considered that the robots might have had a hand in it at least.

"Everybody forget that happened," the Doctor turned and walked back over to them, "Say the word," he said quietly to them.

"What word?" Clara frowned.

"You're really going to make me say it?" the Professor frowned, knowing what word he was talking about, Vastra's safe word, the word that she and Jenny and Strax would be waiting for through various means of spying, for her to say if they needed reinforcements, "It's YOUR word."

"I've outgrown it after 1000 years," he shrugged.

She sighed, but reached up to a small broach hidden under her ascot, "Geronimo," she muttered, less than amused.

And with that, Vastra and Jenny dropped down from the ceiling, unrolling from a bit of cloth that was wrapped around them, landing gracefully and pulling out their swords, "Remain still and lay down your weapons, in the name of the British Empire!" Vastra demanded.

Clara glanced up at the ceiling, to the ropes, to the Professor, "I'd like to see you make an entrance like that."

The Doctor frowned, "I'd rather not," he muttered, moving to stand behind the Professor, his hand splaying wide on her stomach…and glaring at the ropes attached to the ceiling as though the mere sight of them would inspire the Professor to try something so foolish where she could get hurt.

And then, as though hearing his thoughts, Strax fell from the ceiling, the rope not quite taut enough nor secure enough to keep him safe in his fall…leading to him falling splat on his face.

"Strax!" Vastra huffed.

"Sorry…" the Sontaran muttered, pushing himself up.

"I've told you before," Jenny rolled her eyes, "Take the stairs!"

"Oh, look, the cavalry," the Doctor said dryly, not entirely sure how he felt. On one hand he knew that Vastra, Jenny and Strax might just cause more issues for their plan and dealing with the robots, but on the other hand…having them there meant the Professor was extra safe.

"I burned an ancient, beautiful creature for one inch of optic nerve," the clockwork man began to advance on them, as though not at all perturbed by the threat of the reinforcements that had arrived, "What do you think you can accomplish, little man?"

"What do you?" the Professor responded in kind, "Vastra?" she looked at the lizard woman, knowing that Vastra, having been trained as a soldier with her people, would not have entered the restaurant without taking extra measures of protection.

"The establishment upstairs has been disabled with maximum prejudice, and the authorities summoned," Vastra stated, stepping into the clockwork man's way.

"Hang on, she called the police?" Clara looked at the Time Lords, now recovered from her brief bout of abandonment and now focused on the rather logical method of handling this, "We never do that, we should start."

"You see?" the Doctor ignored her, focusing on the clockwork man instead, "Destroy us if you will, they're still going to close your restaurant," he frowned, "That was going to sound better."

"Then we will destroy you," the clockwork man lifted its arm, activating the other robots in the room as they began to step out of their alcove spots, their arms replaced with various blades and weapons, the door opening behind them, allowing more of the robots to come to them through the halls. The robots gathered together, advancing dangerously with the clockwork man in the lead.

"No, you won't," the Professor tried to reason with it, using what she knew of robots, and silently cursing herself for having left her trusty blaster on the TARDIS when she'd stumbled out of it before, "You're logical. You have restraint. You kill to survive, you're not a murderer."

"He's not a what?" Clara scoffed, "This is a slaughterhouse!"

"And how does that make it different from any other restaurant?" the Doctor rolled his eyes, "You weren't vegetarian the last time I checked."

The Professor shook her head, focusing on the robots, "This is over. Killing us won't change that. What would be the point?"

"To find the Promised Land," the clockwork man stated.

This time it was the Doctor who was scoffing, "You're millions of years old, it's time you knew there isn't one."

"I am in search of paradise."

"Yeah, well, me too," the Doctor muttered, "Only difference is I found mine," he pulled the Professor closer to him by the arm on her stomach, "And I'm not going to let you take mine from me," he'd waited FAR too long to reach it, to reach the peace he felt with the Professor, the happiness she gave him, 800 years of self-imposed misery and he was NOT going to let ANYONE take her from him or harm her.

The clockwork man's expression switched to a glare, before the robot turned and made its way through the robots that parted for it before reclosing the gap, allowing it over to the booth the three had come down in, still stationed at the base of the shaft, "I will leave in the escape capsule. Destroy where necessary," he ordered the robots.

"Escape capsule?" Vastra frowned, her grip on her sword tightening, "This ship is millions of years old, it'll never fly."

"It has been repaired."

"What with?"

"You."

"Defensive positions everyone!" Strax ordered as he, Vastra, and Jenny moved to surround the Doctor, Jenny and the Professor, the Time Lady half pulled behind the Doctor, nearly wedge between the Doctor and Vastra's back, even more protected, as the robots circled them.

"Doctor…" she tried to shove him, "Move!" she could help, just because she was pregnant didn't mean she couldn't fight.

"He's getting away!" Clara gasped, pointing over at the booth as it began to rise, the clockwork man activating it.

"Oh no he's not," the Doctor pulled out the sonic and flicked it on, resonating a frequency that had the robots stumbling back, allowing him to shove through them, his hand firmly gripping the Professor's pulling her along with him.

"Doctor stop!" she called, "I can stay and fight…"

But it was too late, they'd reached the booth just as it nearly passed them, the Doctor grabbing her hands and lifting them up to lock with his own around a bar just under the booth, forcing them to hold on as they went higher and higher, leaving Clara and the others behind for a second time.

"Doctor!" she huffed, sending him a glare.

"Not now," he muttered, looking up as they heard the booth arrive at the top, the clockwork man speaking to someone before the sound of running feet reached them.

The booth stopped moving and the Doctor gripped the bar tighter with one hand, the other in a fist as it tried to bang against a panel on the ground, a hatch of some sort, but it was stuck, rusted and…

The Professor swung, using the force of it to kick both her feet against the panel, throwing it open. She gave him a small smirk when she swung back down, "I may look older but I've still got it," she told him, before moving to reach out and pull herself up.

The Doctor watched her go with a dazed nod, "Yes she does," he mumbled to himself quickly following her up and out the hatch, onto the booth and in the main restaurant just in time to see half a dozen police officers fleeing the building as the clockwork man stalked towards them. The Doctor rolled his eyes at that, so much for bravery, he grumbled in his head, before turning and picking up three glasses and two beverages to place on a table, pouring a water for the Professor, who took it with a roll of her eyes, and two glasses of whiskey for him and the robot, the tingling of the glasses making the clockwork man turn around.

"What are you doing?" the robot demanded as the Doctor pulled out a chair for the Professor to sit in.

"I've got the horrible feeling I'm going to have to kill you," the Doctor began as the Professor looked up at him for that, "I thought you might appreciate a drink first. I know I would," he reached out and picked up his glass of whiskey, leaning over the Professor's shoulder to get it, the two of them watching as the droid ignored him and turned to a lever set into a control panel in the wall, making them look up as dust fell on them from the ceiling.

The Professor shook her head, "51st century," she saw the clockwork man still at that, "Time travelling spaceship, crashed in the past. You're trying to get home the long way round."

"I go to the Promised Land," the robot repeated.

"So you keep saying."

"Ok," the Doctor sighed as the clockwork man just resumed hitting the controls, neither of them actually concerned, with how old this all was there was little chance the ship would actually do as it was needed, "So your restaurant is made out of your old ship. But you're wasting your time, it can't ever fly."

"The escape pod is viable," the clockwork man stated.

"How?" the Professor scoffed, "You cannot patch up a spaceship with human remains. We've seen it attempted, it didn't work."

But then, contrary to her words, just as the clockwork man finished pushing a series of buttons, the room began to shake, "Ok, that's clever."

"How are you powering it?" the Professor got up, the Doctor and she walking over to the control panel to eye it.

"Skin," was the answer they were given.

The Professor reached out and pulled out a fuse, eyeing it as she saw 'SS Marie Antoinette' written on it.

The clockwork man looked up as the shaking lessened, turning to look out the window, able to see the buildings lowering, the restaurant rising above it, floating into the air, and focused on the two aliens before him, "How would you kill me?"

"Why don't you have a drink first?" the Doctor taunted, "It's only human."

"I am not human."

"Neither are we," the Professor informed the robot.

"What do you think of the view?" the Doctor turned, taking the Professor's hand and leading her over to one of the windows, looking out as they saw the ship rising above London, flying through the air.

"I do not think of it," the clockwork man stated.

"I don't think of it," the Doctor mocked, "Droids and apostrophes, I could write a book, except you are..." he eyed the robot that was walking towards them, "Barely a Droid any more. There's more human in you than machine. So tell me...what do you think of the view?"

The Time Lords backed away to allow the droid to the window, to move the curtain and look down at the land below, "It is beautiful."

"No, it isn't," the Doctor shook his head, "It's just far away. Everything looks too small. We prefer it down there."

"Everything is huge," the Professor agreed, "And SO important. Every detail, every moment, every life in it."

The robot turned to them once more, the Doctor tensing at how suddenly it had turned, "How could you kill me?"

"For the same reason that you're asking me that question," the Doctor replied, "Because you don't really want to carry on," he eyed the clockwork man more intently, "What'll happen to the other Droids when you die? You're the control node, aren't you?"

"They'll deactivate," the Professor nodded.

"I will not die," it argued, "I will reach the Promised Land."

"There isn't any Promised Land," the Doctor rolled his eyes, droids were SO thick! "This is just...it's a superstition that you have picked up from all the humanity you've stuffed inside yourself."

"I am not dead."

"You are a broom," the Doctor stressed, "Question, you take a broom, you replace the handle, and then later you replace the brush and you do that over and over again. Is it still the same broom?"

"Answer," the Professor continued, "No, of course it isn't. You can still sweep the floor with it…"

"Which is not strictly relevant, skip that last part," he offered.

The Professor nodded, "You replaced every piece of yourself," she continued to the clockwork man, "Mechanical and organic, time and time again, so much so that there's not a trace of the original you left."

The Doctor reached out and picked up one of the silver serving trays, holding it up so that the clockwork man could see its reflection, "You probably can't even remember where you got that face from."

The clockwork man took the tray from the Doctor, staring into it a moment before throwing it away, onto a table, "It cannot end."

"It has to," the Professor straightened her back, lifting her chin, "You know it does."

"And there's only one way out," the Doctor agreed, turning and opening the doors to the restaurant just beside them.

"Self-destruction is against my basic program," the clockwork man lifted a hand, igniting the torch, about to strike the Doctor while his back was turned to open the doors.

But the Professor reached out and grabbed the robot's arm, "Don't even try," she threatened, shoving the robot back as she released its arm, making it stumble, proving as well just how human it had become that its own robotic parts didn't offer it the strength to remain stable and strong against her.

"Self-destruction is against your basic program?" the Doctor glared at it, stepping forward, keeping the Professor behind him, "Murder is against mine!" he reached out and grabbed the clockwork man, shoving him against the doorframe.

"You are stronger than you look," the clockwork man assessed.

"And I'm hoping you are too," the Doctor agreed, "This...is over. Are you capable of admitting that?"

The clockwork man tilted its head to the side, "Do you have it in you to murder me?"

"Those people down there," the Doctor nodded out at the ground, "They're never small to the Professor and I," he glanced at his wife.

She nodded, "Don't ever make assumptions about how far we are willing to go to protect them."

The Doctor turned back to the robot, "Because we've already come a very long way. And unlike you, we don't expect to reach the Promised Land," he stared the clockwork man down a long while before the droid lowered its torch-arm and switched it off, the Doctor taking a single step back from it, to the Professor's side, "You realize," he began, "Of course, one of us is lying about our basic programming."

"Yes," the clockwork man gave a jerking nod.

"And I think we both know who that is."

They stared each other down for a minute, neither man willing to back down…

Until the clockwork man was sent tumbling out of the ship, the Doctor looking over to see the Professor watching it fall, "Murder," she swallowed hard, "Doesn't seem to be against my basic program."

"Kata…" the Doctor reached out to touch her face, making her look at him, seeing her frowning at him, "I don't think it's against mine either," he admitted to her quietly, "800 years without you…" he shook his head, "Is enough to drive anyone to points they never thought they'd reach."

The Professor looked down, she didn't know how it had happened, one minute she was beside the Doctor, the next…pushing the clockwork man out the door and watching it fall, watching it be impaled on a spire of a building…not even feeling anything about it, no remorse, no guilt, just a sense that she'd done what was necessary to save the others and save the Earth.

The Doctor lifted her chin again, "You should have let ME do it."

That seemed to remind her of something as she frowned, "Don't do that," she told him, "Don't you ever do that to me again."

"Do what?" he frowned, confused, but certain she wasn't talking about pushing the robot.

"Pull me away when I'm trying to protect someone," she poked him slightly, "You did it, twice, when I wanted to stay and protect Clara."

"I didn't want you to get hurt," he told her, taking the hand that had poked him and holding it.

"In the last 800 years, have you forgotten how capable a warrior I am?" she shook her head at him, "I can protect myself well enough."

"I know that," he promised her he did, "But can you protect you AND our…"

"Don't you DARE ask me if I can protect both myself and our baby, Theta," she cut him off, "If you think, even for a second, that I would EVER do something or put myself somewhere that I thought our child would be harmed in…"

"I don't!" he said quickly, "I don't, Kata, I know you would never."

"Then let me do what I feel I must," she told him firmly, "If I even had a suspicion that I'd have been harmed down there, that our child would be in danger, I would have gone with you willingly. But those robots were rusty and slow and barely held together. They were EASY…and all your pulling served to do was make me feel guilty for leaving the others alone and leaving Clara frightened."

He let out a breath at that, realizing how rash his reaction had been again, she really was a remarkable fighter, "I'm sorry…"

"I don't know what sort of person I am now either," she added, "But I DO know what I am capable of, I do have an idea of what this body can withstand and how it would react. I am VERY acutely aware that I am pregnant," she gave him a small smile, "And I know you want me to stay safe, and I WILL, but you need to trust that I wouldn't do anything to jeopardize our child. Not after what's happened before," she spoke quieter at that, reminding him of the miscarriage she'd suffered, she never ever wanted to experience that again, "I will be safe and smart, Theta, I promise you that."

"I know," he breathed, squeezing her hand, "I just…it's like you said, Kata, 800 years, it's a long time and I just…I sent you away to protect you and that stayed with me through it all. I'll try not to drag you about," he realized THAT had NOT been a good thing to do with his wife, "But I can't promise I won't be easily able to push down my fears for you."

"I'm not asking you to push down your fears," she stepped closer to him, "Just…we are in this together, and that means if I say we stay and fight, we stay and fight…because you know me Theta, I will only say that when I am certain we can and will win. No more running away just to protect me if it's not all that dangerous a situation. Ok?"

He nodded, "Ok."

"Good…now we'd best get Clara and the others up from down there," she glanced out the window, "And get this ship settled somewhere, and soon."

He smiled at that, "You handle the booth, I'll handle the…"

"Oh no," she shook her head, smiling now, "I'LL fly the ship, YOU get the others."

"Why do you ALWAYS get to fly the crafts?" he grumbled as he headed for the booth regardless.

"2,700 forms of transport," she called to him as she moved to the controls and began to guided them to the ground, reminding him of her war-training, how the High Council had trained her in so many different crafts to pilot and steer, "And I actually passed my TARDIS exam!"

"Bring THAT up again," he muttered, standing by the booth and flashing his sonic to start the booth going down, giving them enough time to slip out of the ship once it was on the ground before the others came up the shaft to see everything sorted…

And the Time Lords nowhere to be found.

~8~

The Time Lords looked over as they set the TARDIS down outside Vastra's, waiting for Clara. They'd hurried back to the box and gotten her into the Vortex, needing to make a quick hop to make sure everything was in proper order before allowing Clara into the ship, the crashing before had damaged it slightly and they wanted it safe for her. They'd also wanted to get out of those horrendous period clothing and into something more...them, whatever that might be and both of them were rather happy with their change of attire.

They glimpsed Clara on the monitor, she was there, just outside the doors though she seemed to be debating whether to enter or not and they thought it best to let her decide for herself and not rush her. It was an awful lot to come to terms with, not just the regeneration, but literally dealing with new versions of them, new personalities and all.

The Professor looked over at the Doctor as he moved around the console, thinking of the last time they'd been there, what he'd said to her just after they'd changed, "What was it?" she asked.

"Hmm?" he looked up at her, "What was what?"

"Before," she made her way over to him, her hand trailing along the edge of the console, "You said that 'kidneys' wasn't the first thing you wanted to say to me. So what was? The first thing that is."

He blinked before he smiled, reaching out to take her hand, "Hello wife."

"Well then," the Professor smiled at that in return, "Hello husband."

The Doctor stepped closer to her, leaning in, about to kiss her when the doors opened and none other than Clara Oswald was stepping in, taking in everything different, not just them while they got the box back into the Vortex. The TARDIS had revised itself as well, still the same basic design though there was an extra upper-upper level that had a series of bookshelves lining it and stairs on one side that led down to a nice, leather armchair. It was a bit darker, but more…cozy, in a way. Reminded her a bit of her grandparents, the home they'd had, more dusty and ancient, but still home.

"You've redecorated," Clara murmured.

"Yes," the Doctor nodded, watching her step closer to them.

"I don't like it."

The Professor smiled, "We're not completely entirely convinced either."

"I think there should be more round things on the walls," the Doctor added, "I used to have lots of round things. I wonder where I put them."

The Professor reached out an touched his arm, giving him a nod down to where Clara was standing, having stopped, not coming any closer, "It's still us, Clara," the Professor told her.

"We're the Doctor and Professor," the Doctor nodded, "I've lived for over 2,000 years…" he winced as the Professor elbowed him for it, reminding him that SHE had lost those extra years with him, now, instead of being 2 years younger than him, she was now about 802, "And the Professor's lived for…ow!" he huffed as she elbowed him again.

She gave him a warning look for the glance he threw her, telling him not to DARE bring up her age. It wasn't that it was bad, it was just…she was more sensitive about it this time, it seemed, the reminder of all that time lost with him, of looking older than she had. She hadn't ever really been THIS old before, hadn't ever really had these wrinkles and graying hair, and…even though she knew it was utter nonsense to be frightened, she was worried about the age her body appeared in relation to their children. She knew for humans that being in their 40s or older was a danger to the child and she was…well, she was over 1000 years old and her body looked about 50 and she couldn't help but worry.

Clara, however, smiled at the small move.

"2,000 years," the Doctor returned back to himself, "And not all of them were good," he swallowed hard, his gaze still fixed on the Professor, knowing his biggest regrets, the years that were never good were the ones where she wasn't there, "I've made many mistakes," he admitted, before looking at Clara, "And it's about time that I did something about that."

"You, Clara," the Professor added, "You're our granddaughter, that was NOT a mistake."

Clara smiled at that, "Good," the relief was heavy in her voice, hearing them talking about mistakes and thinking back to how easily the Doctor had left her there…even if she knew his main concern was (and should be) the Professor.

The Doctor nodded, "So…what do you think?" he gestured at himself, stepping to the side with the Professor to let Clara see their new outfits.

"What are you two, twins now?" Clara had to laugh.

"What?" they both spoke, before looking at each other and back at her, seeming genuinely confused.

Clara could only shake her head at that. The Doctor had switched into yet another suit, but without any sort of tie, black this time, but his jacket had a red lining underneath on the inside, visible only when he pulled back the sides to slip his hands into his pockets. The Professor was sporting almost the same sort of equally dark look. It was like she had black leggings tucked into knee-high black boots, her shirt was like a sleeveless tunic that went to her mid-thighs, and she had her own sort of suit jacket as well, more feminine in make, but red, with 3/4 sleeves that were folded at the elbow. It was like a reverse, the Doctor with the red hidden on the inside, the Professor with the red on the outside. Neither had done much of anything to their hair though, the Professor's just hanging loose, parted in the middle.

She tilted her head, eyeing them more, "Who put that advert in the paper?" she inquired, wondering that since she'd found out that neither of them had.

"Who gave you my number?" the Doctor countered, "A long time ago, remember?"

"You said you were given the number of a computer helpline," the Professor agreed, "And you ended up phoning the TARDIS."

"Who gave you that number?"

"The woman," Clara shrugged, "The woman in the shop."

"Which means there's a woman out there who's very keen that we stay together," the Professor remarked.

The Doctor looked at the Professor, reaching out to take her hand, squeezing it as the TARDIS landed, before he glanced at Clara, "How do you feel on the subject?"

Clara was, instead, looking at the doors, "Am I home?"

"If you want to be."

Clara looked down at that and back at them, studying them, looking at how they were standing, how they were holding themselves, their clothing.

They'd been so…colorful, so smiling and happy and energetic and just…comforting. They were always so close and flirty and kissy and even though their god-awful habit of finishing each other's sentences nearly drove her up the wall, it was just THEM. Now they were there, still close, the Doctor's hand having moved to the small of the Professor's back, but they were both so much darker, both in attire and personality. It wasn't a bad dark, not personality was, it was just…the Doctor had nearly abandoned her, and the Professor had been more focused on her pregnancy than she had anything else. And she understood, she DID, the Doctor was protecting his wife and Bonded and child, and the Professor was trying to make sure the baby would be safe, they had a right to be that selfish after all they'd done.

But it was so strange to see them NOT focusing on other people like that. Sure they were always focused on each other, the flirting and the moon-eyes at each other, they were always aware and looking out for the other, but they always made sure to make HER and everyone else feel safe as well. They never were so open about the possibilities of death, never so focused that they neglected other people or made them afraid for their lives. They were older now, in more ways than one, less likely to give her hope or make a situation less frightful when they knew it was the mature thing to make her aware so she wouldn't make mistakes. They had come so close to losing each other, she understood they were even more focused on ensuring the other survived above and beyond anyone else, but it was just…odd.

She felt like they were still her grandparents, they looked it more now, but just…she wasn't sure she really felt like she was still a part of their family, because if they cared for each other that much, why would they have left her to the half-robot men?

"Can I…can I have some time to think about that?" she asked them.

The Professor's expression, while already rather expressionless, seemed to deflate some, "Of course," she nodded.

The Doctor looked from the Professor to Clara when the girl's mobile began to ring, "You'd better get that."

Clara frowned at them and pulled her phone out, giving them one more look before heading for the door to answer it privately, "Hello!" she answered as the door shut behind her, "Hello?"

"Clara?"

She nearly gasped, hearing the last Professor's voice speaking.

"It's us."

And then the Doctor's last one as well.

"It's us, Clara, the Professor and the Doctor."

"We're phoning you from Trenzalore from before we changed, I mean it's all still to happen for us, it's coming, oh, it's a-coming..."

"It won't be long now, we can…we can feel it."

"We think it's going to be a whopper."

"And we think you might be scared."

"But however scared you are, Clara, the two of us, the ones you are with right now…"

"The ones we hope you are with."

"Believe us, they are more scared than anything you can imagine right now."

"And we need you."

Clara closed her eyes, tears in them as she heard them talking like that, talking for each other, finishing the sentences for what was likely the very last time, "You're doing it again," she murmured.

"Doing what?"

She looked up, this time it wasn't the last Doctor, but the current one, standing in the doorway of the TARDIS with the Professor just before him.

"Who is it?" the Professor asked, but there was a knowingness in her eyes that told her the Time Lady knew EXACTLY who she was talking to.

"Is that them?" the last Doctor's voice echoed in Clara's ear.

"The new us?" the last Professor agreed.

"Yes," Clara whispered, turning back to the conversation, stepping away from the future/present thems.

"They sound old!" the last Doctor whined.

"Oi!" the last Professor spoke, "Are you calling me old dear?"

"No, no, not you, never you. You're still a spry spring chicken."

Clara could almost imagine the Professor shaking her head at that, "Have we gone grey?" the woman inquired.

"Only the Doctor," Clara smiled at that.

"Of course," the last Doctor mumbled, as though he WOULD be the one to go completely grey.

"Clara…" the last Professor began again, "There something we need to ask you."

"What?" she frowned.

"Please help them," the last Doctor pleaded, "For us. Help them."

"We've…we've never done this, together," the last Professor added and Clara could picture the two of them standing at the console with their hands on the Professor's stomach, "I don't think we can do it alone."

Clara's heart broke at that, at the crack in the last Professor's voice. She knew the woman had miscarried once before, she'd been told, but the look in the Professor's eyes, that haunted look, that question of…had it JUST been one time? 300 years they'd been trying, had it really JUST been once? She knew this child was everything to the two of them, and…they had just lost each other, lost them to the past, nearly lost their baby as well, could she really make them lose HER too?

"Go on," the last Doctor whispered, "And don't be afraid."

"Goodbye, Clara," the last Professor whispered.

"Miss you," they both finished before the line went dead.

"Well?"

Clara spun around to see the two Time Lords had stepped fully out of the TARDIS, the doors closed, and were walking towards her, "Well, what?"

The Professor smiled, "We asked you something, Clara, a question."

The Doctor nodded, "Will you help us?"

"You shouldn't have been listening," Clara pointed at them.

"We weren't," the Professor shook her head.

"We didn't need to," the Doctor nodded.

"That was us talking."

Clara would have smiled at that, at how they had done it again, started finishing each other's sentences, that little glimpse of who they had been, who they were, who they always would be, slipping in once more…when the Doctor frowned, "You can't see us, can you? You look at us, and you can't see us. Have you any idea what that's like?"

The Professor reached out and put a hand on his arm, looking at Clara though, "We're not on the phone anymore Clara, we're right here in front of you."

"Please," the Doctor whispered, "Just...just see us."

Clara felt herself actually smile now, because even though the Doctor had said us, he had nodded at the Professor, as though asking if she couldn't see both of them, at least see the Professor, and that…THAT was SO the Doctor, "Thank you," she stepped closer to them.

The Doctor frowned, "For what?"

"Phoning," she stepped closer and hugged them both, the Professor reciprocating while the Doctor just tensed up, holding his hands up as though he were surrendering but trying to back away at the same time.

"I...I don't think that I'm a hugging person now," he warned, stepping further back.

"Oh really?" the Professor challenged, crossing her arms, "You can really go for the rest of this incarnation without hugging me?"

The Doctor blinked at that, then frowned, before stepping closer, his raised hands lightly falling to her shoulders, then sliding around to her back as he moved even closer, hugging her, closing his eyes when she uncrossed her arms to return the embrace, "I'm not a human-hugger then," he mumbled in her ear.

The Professor laughed, "Enjoy it while it lasts," she countered, "Eventually I'll be too big for you to hug properly."

"Then I'll find a new way to hug you," he stepped back, sliding his hands down her arms to her own hands.

"Oh will you?"

"I invented a new kind of screwdriver didn't I?"

"Invent an app that works on wood and I'll believe you can find a new way to hug me."

"Challenge accepted."

Clara shook her head at them, "I see it now," she murmured, making them look at her, "I see YOU," she told them, and she did, that love that they had, that love that she always saw in their eyes for each other…she saw it now, she saw THEM, "This isn't my home, by the way," she cleared her throat, feeling it getting a bit too mushy for her.

"Sorry," the Doctor winced, glancing around, "I'm sorry about that, I missed."

"Yes, Clara, he 'missed,'" the Professor used her quotey fingers, very much doubting he'd actually been AIMING to get Clara home, he really had been pressing random buttons, they were lucky to have made it to the right time period and continent.

"I'll have you know I was distracted," the Doctor defended.

"By what?" the Professor snorted.

"Red."

"Red?"

"Yes," he reached out and ran a hooked finger along the inside of her coat line, "Red."

The Professor couldn't help but smile, "I wonder if you'll still blush the same red as before," she had to murmur.

"I don't think you'll find out," he pulled his hand away, "I don't think this me is much a blusher."

The Professor's smile turned into a smirk Clara was all too familiar with, "Challenge accepted," she mimicked.

"Oh don't start," Clara blanched, "It was sweet before…now it's just creepy to see you both all flirty," she looked around, knowing she needed something that would distract them from attempting to find out if the Doctor could blush, "Where are we?"

"Glasgow," the Professor answered promptly.

Clara chuckled at that, "You'll fit right in," she whacked the Doctor on the stomach lightly, putting on a Scottish accent, "Scottish."

"Right," the Doctor cleared his throat, glancing around, "Shall we, er...do you want to go and get some coffee," he turned to point at the Professor, "Decaf for you."

"Hmm…" the Professor hummed, "Chips would be nice. AND coffee."

"Chips and coffee it is then," the Doctor nodded, turning to Clara, waiting to see if she wanted to join them.

"That'd be great," Clara nodded, starting off down the road before adding, "You're buying!" to the aliens.

"We don't have any money," the Professor reminded her.

"You're fetching, then."

"I'm not sure that I'm the fetching sort…" the Doctor began, "The Professor, well, she's…"

Clara put her fingers in her ears and loudly went 'la-la-la-la-la-I'm not listening-la-la-la-la-la' to drown out the noise of what she was sure was going to be their new old-people flirty thing, though she couldn't help but keep smiling.

Some things never changed.

A/N: For those of you that may not be aware, I was recently plagiarized mid/late-October and it really was upsetting to me in how the reactions that came from the plagiarizing side. One brushed it off and gave a vague not-really-an-apology where you'd only understand it if you knew about the plagiarism, and the other's co-author became very hostile and swore that the only parts of the stories that were similar were the show's dialogue, despite my proving large portions were identical and that my own original scenes, lines, and typos appeared in both. And this is on top of 8 stories being stolen AND 3 people ganging up on one of my readers and 1 of them threatening to cut her :( So it really made me question whether I should continue to write DW, but many people gave me so much support that it pushed me to keep going so I'm really going to try and stick with that and not let it get to me again and continue with DW. I just felt that I should let you all know how close this series and Evy's, Angel's, Mac's, the Judge's, and my 3 future TLs came to not being continued :( But I'm pushing through and I hope you like what's coming :)

As for this chapter...awww :) I SO wanted to have the end of Reproduction be the Doctor and Professor just going 'Hello wife/hello husband' but it fit better here as a set up for the series and a fresh start :) I hope you like the Professor's new outfit too. Her personality might be a little odd at the moment, we didn't see as much of her as the Doctor, but we'll see more of it develope and I can say, though, that when the hormones kick in...well... }:D

I hope you enjoyed the first chapter of the series :) I was really torn between having the Professor be awake at the same time as the Doctor, but remembering that she's pregnant I felt like she'd sleep more than he would, so I really wanted to show him with her still on his mind, sort of echoing back to the Lodger where she was in the TARDIS and all he kept talking about was his wife ;)

I also wanted to apologize, this was meant to be up yesterday but my father's cover for work fell through and I had to take my mother to get a surgery done instead. I was at the hospital since about 5am and got back very late so this chapter wasn't up when it was supposed to be :( But it's up now! I can also say it should be posted at the normal bright and early time (for me) but I'm going to space this story and my OUAT story out as well, this one early, and the other around 6 hours after ;)

Some notes on reviews...(from the end of Reproduction)...

Nope, the Crooked Man was how the creature in the episode Hide was credited at the end :)

I'm not sure how the 1st Doctor ended up so grumpy, in this series though it's because he had to leave Gallifrey thinking the Professor would be mad at him and it made him cross eventually and sad :( Aeon is pronounced like the letter 'A' and then the word 'on,' so A-On ;) I can say that I have a list of flashbacks and that the Doctor meeting Mayra is one of them, but I won't say when we'd see it ;) The 2nd Professor met Susan while on Gallifrey, just before she joined the Doctor on his adventures, she encouraged Susan to go with him :)

The 50th for the Professor is a separate story, as mentioned at the end of Name of the Doctor, it was 'Revelations' and then continued in Reproduction with the Christmas Special :)

Oh, I know Theta is part of the Greek alphabet ;) I've got a degree in Classics (Latin/Greek) ;)