Clare turned the sign on the front door of the Diner to Closed. She then moved amongst the tables and cleared them of the remaining glasses and mugs from the supper crowd. She deposited them in the kitchen sink and grabbed a spray bottle and cloth in order to wipe down the tables. After the tables and chairs were wiped down, the counter was in order, and Clare had swept the dining room, she returned to the bakery.

Tomorrow was Clare's day off, and whenever that happened, she was left in charge of leaning up after the workday was done. She threw on her apron, and went to was the dishes in the kitchen. When she had placed the last load in the dishwasher, and left the large silverware rack out to air-dry under the large ceiling fans, she returned to the bakery.

She washed her hands and went to work on preparing the batters for the next day. Ellie would be able to do the cookies in the morning; she had Clare's recipes in a laminated cookbook. Clare mixed up three different kinds of muffins, made many batches of pie crust, and mixed together the fillings for both apple and peach pie. She would leave all these in the fridge, and Ellie would finish the process of making the muffins and pies the next day.

After washing the dishes she had used, and putting all the utensils and silverware away, Clare got out the mop and bucket and went to work mopping the entire dinner. By the time she was finished, it was past 11:00, and Clare was beyond ready to head home. She left a detailed note on the fridge in the bakery for Ellie, grabbed her purse, locked up, and headed for her car.

By the time she got home, she was so tired that she simply pulled on a pair of flannel pajama pants, half-heartedly brushed her teeth, and crawled into bed. She fell asleep quickly, and didn't wake until past 9:00 in the morning.

"Good-morning, sleepyhead." Her mother said when Clare finally made it to the kitchen for breakfast.

"Morning." Clare mumbled.

Clare grabbed a yogurt from the fridge and plopped down at the kitchen table to eat it. Her mother turned from the sink, where she had been washing dishes.

"You really should eat more in the morning. I don't know how many times I've told you that breakfast is the most important meal of the day."

Clare merely grunted. Her Mother wasn't finished. "I think maybe if you are more, you wouldn't be so grumpy all the time."

"Trust me, Mother; if I seem depressed, it isn't because of my lack of appetite." Clare wanted to add that her Mother's nagging was the problem, but she bit the inside of her cheek instead.

"Well, if you're depressed, you could always go see the priest. Confession always puts me in a better mood."

"Mom, I don't need any stupid religion to make me feel better. Maybe if you just left me alone on my only day off, I would be in a better mood."

Lois Kennedy looked shocked and slightly hurt at her daughter's outburst. Clare felt bad, but she didn't really feel like apologizing. "I just think a priest would help, that's all." Lois said almost on a whisper.

"Mom, I have tried to tell you before." Clare's voice was calm now. "If religion helps you, that's great. But it's just not for me."

Lois Kennedy had started going to a Catholic church when Matt was just a baby, and was now very punctual in her church attendance, confession, and prayer with a rosary. Clare had attended the same church until she was old enough to refuse. The people she saw there every week were the same people she heard cussing over a football game, or gossiping about people behind their back. She had no need for a God who made no difference, and only insisted people attend his services and pay their dues every Saturday mass.

"Whatever you say, dear." Lois conceded.

Clare hoped that meant the discussion was over. What she didn't know was that her Mother was about to pop an equally distasteful subject on her.

"Matt seems to be enjoying his job." Lois commented.

"Yep."

"He has a great boss."

Warning flags began to flash in Clare's mind. "Yeah, I suppose he does."

"Jacob is a really nice man. Did you know that he has a niece?"

"No, I did not."

"His sister had a baby out of wedlock, and decided to keep it. Silly girl. But Jacob is very kind to her, and pays for many of the child's expenses."

"That's nice." Clare said, looking for a way to escape.

"He told me he is trying to gain custody of the little girl. Wouldn't it be nice to meet a responsible man with a daughter?"

"I've already met him, Mother."

"Well, yes. But you haven't really gotten to know Jacob yet. I thought it might be nice of you went on a date with him, I'm sure you would like him a lot when you got to know him."

"I'm not interested right now."

"But Clare, your sister was already in law school at your age, and she and Dustin were engaged."

Clare finally let her frustration show. "I'm not Kim, Mother. I'm Clare. I'm not going into law school, I am content in my current job, I don't need religion, and no one is going to force me into a relationship when I'm not interested."

"Fine!" Lois snapped. "Have it your way. But when you're an old spinster, who can't do anything but cook, don't blame me!" She threw down her towel, and left the room in a huff.

Clare sighed heavily and rubber her temples. Moments later, she was on her feet. She grabbed a cutting board, and slammed it on the counter. Next came a knife, multiple bowls, and a large stack of peppers and onions. Clare attacked the vegetables with a vengeance. A long time ago she had realized the best way to take out her anger was in the kitchen; especially when the anger was towards her mother. Lois didn't enjoy being in the kitchen much, and all her food was low-carb and low-fat boxed and frozen meals. This gave Clare free reign for her frustration.

Clare had finished with the onions, and was working on a red pepper when she heard a loud crash in the backyard. She looked up in surprise before wiping her hands on a towel, and heading for the back door. She opened it and looked around. The first thing she saw was a young man, not much older than she, walking towards her, mumbling.

The man was average height, and was wearing a wrinkled button-up pin stripe shirt tucked into waist high jeans and a brown belt. His sandy blond hair was disheveled, and he rubbed the back of his neck in what seemed to be confusion. As he came closer, Clare overheard his mumblings.

"Never could learn to land that Tardis thing."

Clare blinked. "What did you say?" She asked incredulously.

The man looked up. "Oh hello, sorry about the crash."

Clare ignored the comment and again asked. "What did you just say?"

"Just now?"

"Yeah."

"I said, I never could learn to land that Tardis thing."

"Are you joking with me?"

The man stared at her expression, and seemed to be studying her. After a moment, he began to smile slowly. "Let me guess, you watch Doctor Who." Clare could only nod.

"Well, let me tell you this, that show is far from accurate. I'm not sure what the producers were thinking. The Doctor wouldn't be caught dead in those red Converse."

Clare continued to stare at him. "Wait, just a moment. Who are you?"

"Oh, sorry. I'm the Counselor. A time lord, in case you hadn't already figured that out."

Clare sank onto the bottom steps. "I can't believe this is really happening." Her voice was incredulous. She glanced back at the Counselor, looking him over for many moments, as if trying to convince herself she wasn't dreaming.

"You're a time lord?"

"Yes."

"From the planet Gallifrey?"

"Yes."

"Does that mean the time war hasn't happened yet."

"I suppose that is what it means, yes." The Counselor said, sitting down next to her. He noticed that she was pale, and her features were strained.

"Are you all right?"

"Just shocked, is all." She seemed to be thinking hard before she grabbed his arm with such strength, he wondered if he'd get a bruise. "Tell me, I'm not dreaming, please, tell me." Her voice was almost pleading.

"You're not dreaming."

Clare began to grin. She stood up and paced back and forth in front of him, her step quick and urgent. She began to mumble to herself. "Of course, I'd always imagined meeting the Doctor, or at the very least, David Tennant. But I never thought I'd meet another one." The Counselor smiled to himself at her reference to him as "another one."

"What do I tell mother? Oh, she won't believe me. I'll just tell her he's a friend. But what about Matt? He'll think I'm crazy!"

The Counselor stood up and cleared his throat. "I'm sorry to interrupt you, but I need some help." Clare turned to him. "I landed here because I was hungry; I haven't eaten in a while. I figured someone in the neighborhood might be willing to feed me. The problem is, I'm not very good at landing the Tardis, and I kind of crashed inn your backyard." He smiled sheepishly. "I can help repair the fence, if you want." He was quick to add.

"Do you all have a Tardis?" Clare completely missed almost everything he said as she was still lost in her own little vein of interest.

He laughed. "No, but I borrowed the Doctor's."

"So, you know the Doctor?" Clare's eyes grew large as she looked up at him expectantly.

"Yes, we have been best friends since we were very young. Along with the Master, although he's never been the same since he looked into the time vortex."

Clare stared at him before pacing again. "I can't believe this! Not only did I meet a time lord, but he knows the Master and the Doctor." She turned to him suddenly. "Can I see it?"

"See what?" He asked.

"The Tardis."

"Of course. I thought you might like to, but I had hoped to cover those other issues first…." His voice trailed at the look on Clare's face. "But those things can wait. Come with me."

Clare followed him, and gasped in delight when she caught sight of the phone box that she had seen on television so many times before. The dark blue phone booth had large doors, and the word "police box," scrolled in white writing along the top. Clare walked slowly towards it, her face a study in wonder. When she got close enough to touch it, she slowly put her hand out as if it would disappear if she moved too quickly. When she touched it, and nothing happened, her hand began to stroke the wood in reverence.

"It's amazing." She breathed.

"Would you like to see inside?"

Her eyes lit up in wonder, and if her face had been pale earlier, it was now contrasted in bright pink cheeks and shining eyes. "Can I?"

"Of course."

The Counselor opened the door, and motioned for her to precede him. Clare did so and inhaled sharply. It looked exactly as it was supposed to. The box was bigger on the inside, and the tall pillars seemed to hold the ceiling up. In the middle was a tall clear pillar surrounded by a sort of circular panel covered in buttons and dials. Clare walked slowly up the ramp till she reached the panel. Her hand ran gingerly over the multiple dials, buttons, and gadgets displayed there.

"And you can fly this thing?"

"Well, all except for the landing bit. The Doctor kind of gave up on teaching me that. But I still hold hopes that someday I will conquer it."

Clare continued to study the inside of the Tardis when the Counselor's stomach growled. Clare spun in surprise. "I'm sorry. You said you were hungry, and I insisted on seeing the Tardis first."

"That's ok. Your excitement is understandable." He said dryly.

"Well, I'll just feed you right away." Clare turned to leave, when the Counselor stopped her with a hand on her arm.

"You don't have to on my account. I know how much you want to stay and explore."

Clare stared up at him, her green eyes locked with his brown ones. He wasn't that tall, probably only 5'11'', but Clare was barely five feet, and thus she had to look up quite a ways.

"But you're hungry." She said incredulously.

The Counselor shrugged. "It can wait. You've been dreaming of this moment for a long time. I've only been hungry for a few hours."

Clare was taken aback by his kindness, but she quickly made her decision. "I'll feed you." The Counselor heard the finality in her voice, and didn't argue.

Moments later he was sitting in a chair at the kitchen table, and Clare was placing a glass of milk in front of him. "I'll get you some cookies to eat while I finish the fajitas I was making." She said.

The Counselor glanced at the kitchen clock that had 12 different pictures of the Virgin Mary, instead of numbers. It was not even 10:30 a.m. yet. He wondered why Clare had been making fajitas this early, but restrained himself from asking. A moment later Clare placed a plate of pecan chews in front of him.

"Do you prefer beef or chicken with your fajitas?"

"Beef." He took a bite of the cookie, and his eyes widened. "These are delicious."

"Thanks." Clare smiled. "But I can't take credit for them. I got the recipe from a set of cozies that I read."

"Cozies?"

"They're murder mysteries that are clean. Like they aren't gruesome and there are rarely foul words, and any relations don't go into detail."

As Clare talked she finished chopping the vegetables and tossed them into a large glass bowl. Then she wiped down the cutting board, before pulling a slab of meet from the fridge. She then grabbed a large knife and went to work on the meat. It was obvious that she knew what she was doing, and the Counselor enjoyed watching her as he nibbled on his third cookie.

Clare was almost finished when Matt walked into the room. He started to sneak up on Clare, but stopped abruptly when he saw the Counselor sitting at the table.

"Hey Clare, who's you're friend?"

Clare turned swiftly. "Matt, what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at school?"

"No I finished the literature class a long time ago, and so I get the class off. I just came back to grab something to eat, so I don't have to eat tuna casserole for lunch. But like I asked before, who's your friend?"

Clare turned to the Counselor, but he merely looked back at her. "This is Chris…Piper." Clare completed. She knew Matt wouldn't believe her if she told him who the man really was. Matt stuck out his hand.

"Nice to meet you, Chris."

"You too. Matt wasn't it?"

"Yep."

"Chris is hungry, so I'm making beef fajitas." Clare said.

"You're making fajitas this early? Couldn't you just have tided him over until lunch?" Matt stared at his sister. Her actions were not normal; Clare didn't just make food for men on a whim, unless the man was related, or he asked her to.

"I was already making fajitas." Clare said.

"Ahh." The light dawned. "Mom?"

"Yeah."

Matt walked over to the table, and sat in the chair next to the Counselor. "She cooks when she's upset." He said in a voice too low for Clare to overhear.

The Counselor nodded. "I wondered why she would be cooking this early. You mentioned your mother. I take it the two of them don't get along?

"You could put it that way." Matt grinned.

Clare tried to ignore the two guys, but she was pretty sure they were talking about her, and she didn't like it. She put the beef, peppers, and onions on the stove in some olive oil, and turned the heat on. She was almost finished when the clock over the sink chimed. Eleven crisp notes of the old "Kyrie Eleison" rang out as the small hand came to rest on a picture of the Virgin Mary praying.

"I should go." Matt said. "My next class is in less than 15 minutes." He grabbed a couple of flour tortillas from the fridge, then leaned in front of Clare and scooped a portion of the fajita mixture out of the pan, dumping it in a Tupperware container. He then pecked Clare on the cheek.

"Thanks sis!" He called as he left the kitchen and exited the house.

As soon as the Counselor heard the front door slam, her turned to Clare. "Chris Piper? How did you come up with that?"

"Chris for Christopher Eccleston, and Piper for Billie Piper. It made sense to me. The first doctor seen by modern audiences, and his first TV companion. Now do you want your meat on a salad or in flour tortillas?"

"In tortillas. By the way, what kind of milk is this?" He held up his empty glass and tilted his head to peer at the couple of drops still in the bottom. As he did, Clare noticed a lock of his hair fall into his deep brown eyes.

"Oh, I'm sorry." Clare said, drawing her attention back to the stove. "That was almond milk, but I didn't even ask you if you liked it."

"Well, that was the first time I've had it. But it was great. It was sweet, creamy, and went down smooth."

"Exactly!" Clare turned back to face him, her hands resting behind her on the counter. "So many people refuse to try it because it's weird, but it's amazing. If only people weren't so stuck in their ways."

"If only." He mumbled as he stared at the stared at the clock and it's interesting pictures. "Is that yours?"

"What, the clock? Definitely not! If it were my choice, that thing would have been in the trash ages ago. But mother insists on having reminders of her religion all over the house." The way she said the word 'religion' with such disgust made the Counselor regard her more carefully.

At first glance, in her light green sweater and checkered green skirt to match a ribbon in her hair, Clare seemed only to be an adorable woman who had been blessed with beauty in the form of brunette curls and an almost perfect face. But there was more hidden underneath.

Her need to cook, hatred of the catholic clock, and obsession over a British television show hinted at a more complex story. It was obvious now that she had been wounded by both her mother and by the church, and that she used cooking and a beloved TV show to hide behind. He wondered if Clare would ever learn to stop running from the pain, and instead seek reconciliation.

His thoughts were interrupted when Clare placed a plate of food in front of him. The food looked delicious, and he couldn't wait to dig in. He waited until Clare had turned her back to him before swiftly bowing his head and sending a quick prayer up God's way. It wasn't that he was ashamed or embarrassed, he just wanted to get to know Clare better, and he was afraid that his 'religion' would offend her. He hoped to soon be able to show her who God really was, but for now he would keep his conversations with God private.

Clare refilled the Counselor's glass, placed more cookies on a plate, and sat down at the table with her own glass of almond milk. "So you said something earlier about the Doctor, and I wasn't sure I heard you right."

"What did I say?" He asked.

"About his shoes."

"Oh that. I was telling the truth, the Doctor would never wear converse."

"What? But he has to! That's who the Doctor is! The shoes define him." Clare's passion was amusing, and the Counselor merely smiled at her in a way that said I'm-sorry-that-you-are-so-clueless.

"But come one," Clare continued. "The shoes are awesome. I suppose next you are going to tell me that he looks like Adolph Hitler and ruin everything."

At this, the Counselor threw his head back in laughter. He found this conversation hilarious, but Clare merely glared at him. After a moment, his laughter calmed, and he realized he had just ruined Clare's idol. He was going to need to backtrack a little.

"No, he wouldn't be caught dead in a mustache either. And I assure you, he doesn't sound the least German. He prefers Great Britain, and has his accent down pat."

"Well at least you've got that right." Clare mumbled.

The Counselor had the urge to laugh again, but he restrained himself. "Tell me what else the Doctor 'should be like.'" His voice held sarcasm, but Clare missed it.

"Well, the Doctor should be skinny."

"Check."

"He is always wearing a suit."

"Though never that ugly blue thing."

"He's got a sonic screwdriver."

"Check."

"Has a female companion."

"Whoa, hold your horses!" Clare looked at him. "This is before the time war, remember? He doesn't need a female companion. The only one he's got is an older sister."

"Who's she?"

"The Lawyer."

"Oh, I bet she's perfect." Mockery dripped from her tone as she thought of her own older sister.

"A perfect nag."

Clare laughed. She was actually enjoying this. For the first time in her life she was talking to a man her age that wasn't related, and hadn't been shoved on her by her mother, and was actually having fun.