A/N Sorry for the long delay. Work started up this week and it's been crazy. Thanks for reading. After this there's just one more chapter and an epilogue. Almost there. Reviews are always welcome. It's nice to get some feedback.

Chapter 5 - The Ponds in Central Park

Between being worried about alien bounty hunters and the paradox, Clara never considered that it would be her status as an unmarried woman with a child that would nearly derail their whole plan. The man behind the counter stared at her pointedly and made no move to issue her a ticket. "New York City?" he seemed to say it with a hint of disgust, "Now why would you want to go there? Especially with your son?" There was no denying his contempt as he stared between Clara and the child.

"Oh, he's not my son. Goodness me, just look at him. And I'm not even married." The hard expression on the man's face didn't change. "I'm just the caregiver. I've been looking after him while his parents get themselves settled in New York. That's where I'm taking him now. To meet them. It's all right here," she said as she held up the psychic paper. Taking it was River's idea. She had also directed Clara to a compartment containing currencies organized by time period. River's idea, apparently. "The Doctor never thinks about money, thinks he can get through life with charm and a wink (and occasionally his sonic screwdriver). I set this up for all the times that doesn't work".

The bus terminal employee stared at the psychic paper. He didn't looked pleased, but at least he seemed to be considering whether or not to issue her a ticket. "It's still not a very good idea Miss. A young lady like yourself, going all that way without a chaperon."

"Please sir, isn't there something you could do? The family will be awfully worried if I don't arrive on time," she tried to look as innocent as possible and did her best to make her large eyes even larger as she stared up at him.

"Very well," he finally relented, "Sit up with the driver. I'll let him know your predicament and he can keep an eye on you. Keep you out of harm's way."

"Thank you," Clara tried to sound as benevolent as possible, despite her growing dislike of the man.

She did as she was told and positioned herself right behind the driver. A middle age woman sat down beside her, and Clara suspected that that too was intended to keep her out of trouble. The woman stared down pleasantly at John, and said in that sing-song voice people use when talking to or about babies, "Your son has the reddest hair I've ever seen. I can only imagine what his father looks like." Much to Clara's relief there was no judgement or insinuation in the woman's tone.

"He actually gets the red hair from his mother. I'm just the nanny. I'm bring him down to his parents in New York."

"Well isn't that nice of you," the older woman was all smiles and was still cooing at the baby, but when she reached out for John he began to cry. Clara quickly folded him into her arms and he calmed down always immediately.

"Sorry about that. He's normally so good with people."

"Not to worry, dear. A long travel makes the best of us grumpy."

They chatted pleasantly for most of the long trip. After some time the older woman said, "So tell me about this boy of yours." Clara was confused and looked down at John. "No, not him. Your sweetheart."

"I don't have-"

"Now, now, there's no fooling me. I know young love when I see it written all over someone's face. Is he a boy from back home or is he in the city?"

Clara laugh, "He'll be in the city by the time I get there, but" she added quickly, "he's not my sweetheart."

"But he was once?"

"Well," Clara began, not sure how exactly to explain her relationship with the Doctor.

"Let me guess, he was whisked away by circumstances? Had to leave for New York. And now you feel so far removed it seems hopeless?" there was a very knowing, optimistic look on her face.

"Something like that," Clara said, mainly out of simplicity.

"Not to worry. If he cared about you, he will again. You just wait and see."

"Things change," Clara said, for the second time that day.

"Not everything. Not love. Not always. Trust me, dear."

Clara's seat mate had offered to wait with her in the bus terminal until she was picked up, but Clara managed to convince her that the driver had already volunteered. Clara would have liked the company, but felt like she couldn't risk it. She waited in the terminal for two hours, long after everyone from her bus had left, and finally took to the streets confident that no one would be able to guess at her original origin. She had no idea where the Ponds lived, but River had provided her with the address of the publishing company that Amy worked out in that period. Amelia Williams. Clara's very favourite author as a kid. Who knew they had so much in common? Clara managed to sneak into the office and walked the halls until she found a door that read "A. Williams". Clara could make out a woman with long red hair through the etched glass. How she long to just open the door and get it over with. But she knew this wasn't the place. As she walked back down the hall she dropped a letter on the mail cart and continued walking until she was out of the building. She took a seat on a park bench across the street and waited. Within a few minutes Amy came tearing out of the building, looking frantically in all directions, the TARDIS blue envelop still clutched in her hands. Even though this part of the plan had been River's, Clara felt a tinge of guilt at the deception. Of course Amy would think it was from the Doctor. She would know it couldn't be, but she would still hope. And if the envelop wasn't enough, the inclusion of her round reading glasses, that he had so treasured, would have seemed to confirm the impossible. The letter itself was simple, 'The Rock, 7pm.' Clara knew she need not say more than this.

Now confident that the letter had been delivered Clara made her way to Central Park. She was sure she had not been followed, but just in case, she doubled back constantly throughout her journey, obscuring her route. At the park at last she bought a pretzel and sat on the rock feeding small piece of it to John and making faces at him. She look around for the Ponds, although she knew it was not yet seven. When she looked back at John he was smiling up at her affectionately. He really was a pleasant child. "How about story. Would you like that?" He sucked on his fingers, but he eyes were still fixed on her, "There is a man called the Doctor and one day, I met him. And of course it was the best day ever. It's just the best day of my life. Because, because he's brilliant, and he's funny and mad. And best of all he really needs me. The trick is, don't fall in love. I do that trick quite a lot, sometimes twice a day. And once we started running I started to forget, slowly, that it was dangerous. That he wouldn't always be there..." Clara heard footsteps approaching. She looked up just as they stopped. Amy and Rory. A little older, but otherwise exactly as she remembered them.

"She's not the Doctor," Amy's statement was directed at Rory, but was clearly also meant for Clara by the way Amy was glaring at her.

"No, I'm not." she said, staring up at the couple.

"Where's the Doctor?" Amy asked, her tone darkened with disappointment, but still edged with hope. Clara glanced down at the child and then looked back into Amy's eyes. "You have got to be kidding me."

"Wish I were. But I can explain everything. I promise."

"Who are you?" Rory asked, joining the conversation at last. "Have we met before? You sound so familiar."

"We have, well, sort of. We met at the Dalek Asylum. I think I called you Nina."

Rory's whole face changed, "Soufflé Girl?" and if it was possible, he began to look even more confused, "But were a dalek. And you died? You were a dead dalek. How are you a person now?"

"Different life. Different me. Well, sort of. It's a long story, but I'll do my best to explain it. All of it. If you'll let me."

The Ponds looked at each other, and after coming to a silent agreement, settled themselves on the rock opposite Clara. For her part, she did her best to explain about the Doctor's timeline, the Asuksa system, the Doctor's regeneration, and the Chameleon Arch. Before she could get into the details about River, the Smiths, and their plan Amy cut her off. "So you sent the letter?"

"I'm sorry. I had to be sure you'd come."

"What do you need us for?" Amy was mad, that much was clear, and Clara could hardly blame her. There's nothing worse than disappointed hopes. Especially when it was something that had been longed for, even though it was impossible.

"I need someone to look after him."

"Why us?" this was a challenge. Maybe even a test, but with it a fierce confrontation at the heart of it.

Clara knew she wouldn't get a second chance, she had to answer this right. But how to explain the long list of failed applicants, to explain just how vulnerable the Doctor was now and how much he needed protection? All that planning; all their logic and reason and careful consideration seemed worthless in the face of two people that loved him so much they truly believed he found away around the universe ending paradox to see them. "Because you're his best friends," she said at last. Her words completely genuine. She knew it was true. Rory looked at his wife imploringly and even Amy's resolve was melting. "I mean, just look at him. I think this is exactly where he wanted to be." Like her daughter before her, Amy had not dared look at the infant in all the time they sat there. Now her eyes soaked him in and a made a careful catalogue of his features: her hair and colouring, Rory's eyes, and was that her mother's mouth? Without meaning to, she reached out for him, and the little boy reached back. Clara closed the distance between them and gently placed the baby in Amy's arms. He cooed with delight and settled softly against her shoulder.

Amy was glowing as she held him tightly in her arms. It took her a moment to remember Clara was there at all. "What happens now?"

"Now he grows up. Safe. With you."

"But you'll be back for him?" Amy's tone was unreadable.

"Yes, eighteen years from today. He should be old enough by then to take care of himself."

"Not if he's anything like his father," Amy laughed.

"Hey!" Rory complained, and then they both looked a little startled at how easily they had accepted these new roles. "Will he remember? Being the Doctor that is, and well, us?"

"No," Clara said and then, thinking back to what Martha had told her, she added, "But he will dream about it."

"What should we do?"

Clara had been thinking about that all day and it wasn't until that moment that she finally had the answer, "Tell him stories. Tell him all about the Doctor and his crazy adventures. Make him a fairy tale. An-"

"Imaginary friend?" Amy added with the smallest traces of a smile.

"Exactly."