"Mum? Dad-?"

The cry was quite loud, and came from behind them. Clara turned her head, curious to see who it originated from. The voice was definitely female. There were several people walking along the street, headed for the antique stalls on Portobello Road, just as Clara and the Doctor were doing. It took Clara a moment to identify who had cried out, but it wasn't hard, as the woman was staring with a shocked expression directly at her.

"Oh my stars-!" the woman exclaimed, clapping her hand over her mouth, her eyes getting rounder by the second. By this time the Doctor, sensing that Clara had stopped walking, turned and looked back as well. The woman's expression became almost frightened, at that point. Both the Doctor and Clara stood still, as the woman, who looked to be around forty years old, came towards them. One hand was still on her mouth, the other was almost pointing at the two curious time travelers. Clara was surprised to see tears forming in the woman's eyes, and that her hands were shaking. She was obviously upset at what she was seeing.

As she came up to them, Clara took in her appearance. As she'd already noted, the woman was older than Clara, and seemed to be at least forty. She had straight dark brown hair, that just brushed her shoulders, with a bang fringe over her eyebrows. Her eyes were green, in the same shade as the Doctor's. The odd thing to Clara, was, that the more she studied this woman's face, the more familiar it began to look—and yet, unfamiliar. Her features held faint reminders of someone, and Clara was beginning to get an uncanny feeling she knew who it was.

What was also uncanny was the fact that the woman not only seemed to recognize Clara, but the Doctor's appearance almost terrified her. Clara watched as the closer she got, the more excited and agitated she was at the sight of the Doctor.

"No…you're not…" The woman's voice came out in almost a whisper, a contrast to how strident it had sounded earlier. "Forgive me…I—I thought you were my parents."

Now Clara's eyes became round with surprise. "Do we look a lot like them?"

"You could be my mother's twin," she stated, pointing at Clara. "But…he," and here she indicated the Doctor, "looks more like my dad than my dad did."

The Doctor and Clara exchanged a glance. Clara could tell they were thinking the same thing: could this woman be referring to one of Clara's echoes?

Giving a shaky laugh, the woman continued. "I suppose that did sound strange. It's—hard to explain." Her mouth turned up in a small, nervous smile. "Let me introduce myself…my name is Eleanor Smith Hartnell. My parent's names are Matt and Claire Smith."

"I'm Clara Oswald, and this is the Doctor," Clara responded, smiling in return.

"Oswald," Eleanor breathed softly. "My mum's maiden name was Oswald."

Once more, the Doctor and Clara shared a look. The Doctor turned to Eleanor. "I think…it might be a good idea…if we found a quiet spot to chat."

"I think I'd like that as well," Eleanor replied.

A few moments later, the three were seated in a café, with cups of coffee and a plate of jammy heart biscuits, which the Doctor was making short work of. Eleanor, after adding milk and sugar to her coffee, set down her spoon and dug into her purse. She pulled out a wallet, and after some searching, produced a photograph. She handed it to the Doctor, who wiped crumbs off his fingers and took it. His eyes got very large, so Clara leaned in to see as well. Her eyes widened.

"That's my father," Eleanor stated. "He never allowed us to take his photograph. I got that one by accident—he wasn't paying attention to me at the time and I guess he didn't hear me snap it. As you can see, he didn't look like…normal people."

"No, he certainly wasn't what one would call normal," the Doctor slowly drawled. Clara studied the picture. It was a close up of a man who had skin that was pure white, with a glossy look to it. Thin red veins gathered below his eyes and around his mouth, which had an unfinished appearance, like his nose. His irises were white as well, like an albino's. But he had a thick head of dark brown hair, and a strong chin. He looked almost like the Doctor, in fact—but like an unfinished, nightmare production of the Doctor.

The real Doctor looked directly at Eleanor. "How did he survive?"

"So, you do know about him," Eleanor breathed softly. "When I saw your face, I wondered. As I said, you look more like him than he does."

"Who is he?" Clara directed her question to the Doctor.

"He is a Ganger…one of the Flesh. I left him in the 22nd century on an island, fighting off a monster, so Amy, Rory and I and some other people could escape. I didn't think he'd survive."

"What's a…ganger?" Clara took the photo from the Doctor, then handed it back to Eleanor.

Now it was Eleanor and the Doctor's turn to exchange looks. The Doctor sighed. "Bit of a long story, but in the 22nd century, the Flesh was developed to take the place of humans in dangerous industrial work, like mining acid. This particular one took shape when I touch a vat of the Flesh in its goo-like state. It created a duplicate of me, that worked side-by-side with me to defeat the Flesh that had gone rogue and were trying to kill the humans. In the end, he volunteered to stay behind with another of the Flesh who fought with us, to give us protection until we could leave the island they were on. How did he get away?"

"Dad was never sure why he survived," Eleanor sighed, putting the photograph back in her wallet. "He thought it had something to do with your Time Lord physique." The Doctor raised an eyebrow at that, and Eleanor smiled. "Yes, I know a bit about Time Lords and Gallifrey. Dad had all your memories, at least up to the point where he was created. All he knew was a rescue ship came to the island, and found him, the last survivor. They took him to the mainland, and tried to patch him up. They did the best they could. His physique never returned to looking like you—he was stuck with that body until he died."

"So…how did he meet your mother? I'm assuming that's how you came along, since you called Clara 'mum.' And how did you get from the 22nd century to the 21st?" The Doctor leaned forward with his elbows on the table.

Eleanor laughed. "Let me correct you on one thing. I was born in the 20th century. Dad was the one who time traveled from the 22nd century to the 20th."