Thank you so much for the reviews :) I know you want Whouffle/Whouffaldi things, and they will be there! It's just that I'm trying to keep them in character as much as it's possible, so the Whouffle things will be carefully approached ;)

Chapter 5

"We're doing this together," Clara said, raising her voice.

The Doctor laughed. "No, we're not. You want to scold a teenager for doing what every teenager does, go ahead. Be the bad cop."

"You're supposed to be helping me, remember?"

"Hey, it's not my fault that we differ on our views on raising children. But do go ahead. See what happens," the Doctor said, crossing both of his arms.

"I'm the teacher here. I know how to handle this."

"Oh really? How many children and grand-children do you have? I say we show her there is more to be gained by being nice. And for that we need her to trust us, not despise us."

"Says the expert on being nice," Clara muttered, "Okay, care to make that a bet?"

The Doctor snorted and at exactly the same time the door opened and Isabel and Sammy stepped inside.

"What's up? It looks like I just interrupted a fight. Should I go?" Isabel asked.

"No, no, you stay," said the Doctor, "Clara is about to give you a lecture about skipping school. Typical teacher."

Isabel looked confused and her gaze wandered from the Doctor to Clara and back again.

"And. . . you're not?" she asked carefully.

"What do I care? It's your education. You're old enough to decide for yourself."

"How can you say such a thing?" Clara interrupted him angrily, "She's 15, you can't just. . ."

She stopped when the Doctor let himself fall in an armchair and winked at Isabel.

"What's with the wink?" she demanded to know.

"Oh, nothing. Just my way of telling Isabel that I love to help out."

"Help out with what?"

"Well, now you're scolding me instead of her."

Clara said nothing and instead turned to Isabel.

"Why did you lie to me?" she wanted to know.

Isabel shrugged. "I just. . . "

"Honest answer, please."

"I wanted to see if I could. If it would work," Isabel said bluntly, "It did. Don't expect it to again, though."

"Okay, that's it. Go to your room," Clara ordered.

Now the Doctor rose from his chair. "I have a much better idea. Why don't we go into this room?" he pointed to his TARDIS.

Clara gasped and said: "No."

Both turned their eyes on her.

"Why not? We'll be back in a minute and Isabel will still have time to do her homework before dinner. You will make dinner tonight, right?"

"You're rewarding her for skipping school and that's not how this works."

The Doctor turned to Isabel. "As you can see, we differ on our views about raising children. But as I'm the oldest person in this room, my opinion counts. Let's go."

OOO

"I see you found your dinner" Clara asked, her voice much softer now as the Doctor entered the room, "You are three hours late."

Clara was sitting in front of the fireplace, a blanket around her shoulders and a cup of hot cocoa in her hands. It was already mid-November and it was cold in most rooms of the house.

"Yeah, sorry about that. Little miscalculation, but Isabel is upstairs now, doing her homework. And dinner was, well. . . it was nice of you to make it," said the Doctor. He decided to better not point out he disliked it.

"So, where have you been?"

"Looked into Vastra's and Jenny's early years," he admitted, "I thought since we figured Jenny was Isabel's main problem, I would show her some of her cooler sides. Make her seem like someone to look up to. Maybe if Isabel saw her more as a role model . . ."

Clara started to smile.

"What?"

"Nothing. Just, you do know what you're doing. Sometimes," Clara admitted, "Come on, sit down."

Reluctantly the Doctor did what Clara had told him to. Clara watched him sit down, leaving enough space for a third person to squeeze in between them. A question came to her mind, one she had been wanting to ask him for a rather long time.

"Doctor, why don't you like being hugged?"

He turned around and gave her a look, as if judging whether he should give an answer or not.

"I'm just not a hugging person now."

"As you keep saying. But, why? There must be a reason. I mean, why did the last you love to be hugged and you don't?"

"I don't know. Regeneration – it's a lottery."

"That's a lie," she said, "You just don't want to talk about it."

"Fine, you're right," he said grumpily, "Happy now?"

"No, not quite. Tell me," she demanded, "Help me understand."

The Doctor sighed. Should he just get it over with and tell her? She would keep asking, he knew it. Clara could be very persistent.

"Regeneration is a bit like evolution. It learns from the previous regeneration and adapts in the next one."

"That doesn't really make sense when it comes to the hugging, though."

"Yes, it does. The former me let people get very, very close. And it got him nowhere but hurt. 900 years on Trenzalore, watching everyone around him grow old and die. He never gave up, he always sought their approval, their affection, their love, never realising that no matter how hard he tried to be one of them, they would keep dying and he would always be the one. . . left."

Clara said nothing. It was something she had never really thought about, that time on Trenzalore. 900 years? She didn't even know how long exactly he had been there. She figured that it must have been quite a while because he had aged. But the greater aspects of those years had never crossed her mind before.

OOO

"I have news," said the man in uniform. Cindra turned around to look at him.

"Well, what is it?"

"The girl we are watching. We figured out who is with her now."

"And who is it besides the woman?"

"He's a Time Lord."

"Oh," Cindra let out a sound of surprise, "I didn't expect to come across such curiosities. But that makes a quite a bit more interesting now."

"Does it?" the man asked, "I thought it would be a problem."

"Oh, it can be, yes. But there is much more to be gained now than just a psychic teenager."