"You know, this still doesn't solve our problem," she finally said after five minutes of snogging. Hamish, though clearly inexperienced, was a quick study. "I'm still six—six—years older than you! And I don't feel comfortable entering a relationship with just a kid!"

He rolled his eyes and kept moving in for another kiss. "I don't act 18. Besides, I'm legal."

"You're too randy to make sense right now, Mish. Keep it cool for a minute while we work this out." She tapped a few fingers on the table. "It doesn't really work, the way it is. When you're my age and you should be out snogging lots of other girls and getting drunk, I'll be thirty and old-looking."

"I don't want to snog other girls."

"Do you want to snog a thirty-year-old one?"

"It'll be you, so it won't matter."

"Besides, you have uni in the fall. What, am I going to pick you up from school, like some parent? No!" she said decisively. "No, that won't work. This won't work. Bloody hell, I don't know how to do this."

He groaned and crossed his arms. "I don't see why it's such a big deal."

"Well, maybe when you're older, you'll understand." She stuck her tongue out at him. "Besides, I don't want you to just be my sidekick—you're the son of Sherlock Holmes and John Watson. You are every bit as clever and wonderful as they are, and you should have the chance to pursue your own life."

"But your dad's companions didn't really have much of a life outside the Doctor," he pointed out.

"True, but don't you think my boyfriend should?" she sighed.

Hamish paused for a minute, thinking about possible solutions. "You do have a time machine. Not sure if you knew that."

She blinked and looked at him incredulously. "Sorry?"

"You have a time machine," he said. "How many years? What would it take for us to be safe, age-wise and experience-wise? Three years? Four?"

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm saying you should drop me off with your parents, Clara," he said. "I'll live at 221B with them—it'll be like Father's still around. We can claim River as an aunt or something and say Dad died on a trip, and I'll go to Oxford in the fall. I'll get a degree in whatever, and I'll find my own life, like you want me to. And when I'm done with my degree—let's say four years—you come get me. I'll be twenty-two, only two years younger than you. Is that good?"

"Mish! That's…that's brilliant, but you'd have to wait! I mean, four years is a really long time, I don't know if you've noticed."

"I don't care," he said. "I'd do it for you."

"Lots of pretty girls at uni. You'd be tempted. In fact, maybe it's better if you are."

"Not going to happen. You're it for me, Lyradespheladar." He seemed impressed with himself with the pronunciation, but when Clara started to giggle at how he butchered her name, he smacked his face for good measure. "Lyradesphielandar?"

"Lee-ra-des-fee-ell-loo-man-dar," she pronounced for him.

"Lyradesphielumandar," he repeated. "Right."

Clara giggled all the more to herself and stared at him, unsure of what to make of this boy who was willing to wait for her. "You know, my grandparents, Rory and Amy Pond, they waited for each other. Rory waited 2,000 years for Amy."

"Don't make me compete with your granddad, I already think four years is a long time, without you."

"I'm just saying!" she laughed. "The granddaughter of Rory and Amy Pond, the daughter of the Doctor and River Song…going out with the son of Sherlock Holmes and John Watson."

"Bloody hell," Hamish said, shaking his head. "We should get a coat of arms or something. Have an ancestral home out in Scotland."

"I think the TARDIS counts as an ancestral home," she quipped. "All right, are you sure you want to do this? I mean, I'll be seeing you in four minutes, and you'll be waiting four years. Are you sure this is what you want?"

"I want you. If you're sure about this, then so am I." He stuck his hand out. "Shake on it."

Clara proudly took his hand and shook it before kissing him once on the forehead. "Let's get you home, then. I'll drop you and my parents off and travel as quick as I can. If it's possible, please don't fall in love with someone else."

"And what kind of companion would I be if I didn't listen to you?"

Several months earlier

"And what are you thinking of wearing to the wedding?" River asked her daughter, trailing her hands down the wardrobe racks. "I think I'm going to show off—would you be very mortified if your old mum bared some serious cleavage, sweetie?"

"It's not really my style, but go for it," Clara replied. She'd been eyeing a filmy yellow dress for a few minutes, not sure if she wanted to put it on yet. "Are you sure you want to go to this? I mean, it hasn't been long since…"

Clara still did not want to say it. She didn't want to admit that only weeks ago, the last time she'd seen Sherlock and John, they'd been fighting for the Doctor's life at Trenzalore…and she'd failed him.

River eyed her carefully. "Stop that. You're doing it again. The guilt thing—how many times do we have to tell you that it isn't your fault?"

"None. I still wouldn't believe it." Clara straightened up and let go of the yellow dress. "I think I'm going out—I'll go to London and do some shopping for a dress."

"Your TARDIS, your rules. Let's try and make it snappy, though, sweetie—I don't like to be too late, only fashionably late."

Clara nodded at her mother while she continued to hum and look at different gowns. It couldn't have been easy, pretending everything was all right for Clara's sake.

Skipping along to the TARDIS console, Clara tried to think for a moment about which levers and buttons to push to get to London. Driving the TARDIS was more thought-oriented than action-oriented, as River had taught her, but she was getting the hang of it. With a few tentative tappings on the keyboard, she managed to get the blue box safely to London, and she took her bag and umbrella off the coat rack before leaving into the foggy city air.

Not two steps out of the TARDIS, Clara saw something she never expected to see—herself, sitting on a bench with her own TARDIS parked a few meters away.

She gulped. "Are you me, then? Or are you a different incarnation, like the Victorian one or the starship one, or—"

"You. From the future," her counterpart said in a spooky voice. "Apparently, Dad says this happens a lot."

"Dad? 'Says'? You mean you got him back? Is everything okay?"

She waggled her eyebrows. "Spoilers. Mum taught me that word. Anyway, I can't stay long—I sort of have an appointment to keep."

Clara sat next to her on the bench. "What kind of appointment?"

"I have a date—a very important one. Anyway, you're about to go to Sherlock and John's wedding, yeah?"

"Er, right. What about it?"

"You can't go without a wedding present," Future Clara said. With a flourish, she handed a manila folder stuffed with papers to Clara. "This must be delivered to Sherlock and John tonight. The entire future depends on it."

Clara wrinkled her nose in confusion. "What are all these papers?"

"Adoption forms. These will make sure they adopt the right kid, when the time comes. You've got to arrange it so they finish the adoption papers and become his father." Future Clara smiled. "His name is going to be Hamish."

Clara skimmed through the papers, pausing to look at the picture clipped to the identification information—a baby boy with fluffy dark hair and a huge, toothless smile. "What's so important about this baby and the future?"

"Well…" Future Clara bit her lip and thought of the best way to put it. "I can't tell you anything major. Suffice it to say he's going to be important."

"Important how?"

"You're going to need him, Clara." Her counterpart looked her squarely in the eyes. "You're going to need him…a lot more than you think. And he needs you. So hop to it!"
With that, she got off the bench and walked back to her own TARDIS. "Oh, and have fun at the wedding! Don't bother trying to get there on time—you'll be there when it counts. And wear the yellow dress!"

Clara was left gaping as the TARDIS wheezed itself away, and with a shrug, she walked back to her own blue box. "Mum, I changed my mind. I'm going to wear the yellow one."

Clara laughed all the way back to her TARDIS at the expression on her past self's face. It had been so completely priceless; she wished Hamish had been there to laugh about it with her.

Well, he would be, and soon.

With a nervous and excited sort of energy, she walked on jittery legs up to the TARDIS console and tapped her fingers on the edge of the control panels. It had only been a few hours since she'd left Hamish back at 221B, giving a tearful goodbye to her parents. The Doctor had run around the flat excitedly for a few minutes before collapsing, exhausted, into an armchair and complaining that his human body got winded too quickly. River had only chuckled and made him tea, which he childishly refused to drink.

Clara had walked Hamish back up to his room and given him one last kiss, the last one he'd get from her for four years. She also had had the TARDIS make a copy of a key and given it to him on a leather string.

'Consider it a timey-wimey engagement ring,' she'd joked when he goofily put it around his neck.

'Are you proposing marriage, Miss Oswald?'

'Oi, Junior, don't go there. Not yet. Give it a few bleeding years.'

After saying goodbye and feeling dread in the pit of her stomach for condemning him to four long years of waiting, which seemed hardly fair for a boy of 18, she'd promised to go straight to the future to rescue him. That wasn't exactly true—she'd first searched for him as a baby to secure the adoption papers and then give them to Clara in the past. She couldn't afford to let that wait.

Part of her knew this entire thing was crazy, that people shouldn't fall in love this quickly. Part of her suspected and feared that Hamish was going to stray, as he was only a young boy, after all.

But at least she wasn't afraid of her own feelings, not anymore. Hamish had felt bricks at first sight, and she'd felt them hit her, too—only one at a time, rather than all at once. She knew she was going to love that silly, nerdy, goofy boy for a very long time. Perhaps even forever.

She smiled to herself and typed in new coordinates and a date, letting out a sigh of relief when the TARDIS engines whirred and whistled and took her straight to the Boy Who Waited for her.

"Are you always this cranky?" River complained as the Doctor fumed in his seat, crossing his arms. "Blimey, if I'd known you were going to be such an ornery old man, I would have married Jack Harkness."

The Doctor stuck out his tongue. "Liar. And this is boring. All they're doing is announcing boring old names of boring old people, and Hamish doesn't even get to do anything remotely interesting and I'd much rather go take apart one of those iPads again."

"You are never doing that again," River said decisively. "Those cost too much for you to just destroy them."

"I didn't destroy it—I would have made a perfectly functioning electric can opener if all that ruddy glass hadn't gotten in the way."

She rolled her eyes and didn't bother to respond. "Oh, look, there goes Mish! Clap, sweetie!"

The Doctor and River hooted from their seats as Hamish Watson-Holmes mounted the stage in a black robe with a white, furry stole. He grinned shyly at the wildly clapping audience and accepted his diploma from a wizened professor handing out scrolls to students, and he firmly shook his hand before crossing the stage with the rest of the graduates.

Hamish had been near the end of the line, and he joined his fellow classmates as they held hands and hugged and waited until the professor finally announced, "Introducing the University of Oxford's Graduated Class of 2037!"

With a huge cheer, the graduates threw their caps into the air and congratulated each other as the room burst into further applause.

"Congratulations, mate!"

"Thanks, Harry, you too!" Hamish said, clapping his best friend on the shoulder.

"You know if you want to come to Paris over the summer with me, my offer's still open. Drinks, girls…"

"Nah, I sort of have something I'm doing this summer," he replied with a smile. "I'll be doing a lot of traveling, though—maybe I'll bump into you."

"Congratulations, Hamish!"
"You too, Claire."

"Hey, Hamish, too bad about not getting the graduation speech!"

"Oh, sod off, Andrew."

Hamish scanned the crowds of graduates and families for the familiar faces of his pseudo-parents/future in-laws. River was smiling warmly at him from across the room, elbowing the Doctor in the ribs to get him to look at Hamish. The Doctor waved wildly at Hamish when he spotted him, mouthing, "Congratulations, old boy!"
He chuckled and continued searching the room for something, any sign… He'd been hoping ever since his birthday last November that she'd be here, even though he knew the agreement had been to meet after he'd gotten his degree. Still, he'd spent a lot of time hoping and wishing and waiting, just in case.

Oh, it hadn't been easy. In fact, there had been a lot of months that he'd been angry with himself for his choice, when his mates were out getting spectacularly drunk and bragging about their one-night stands. They'd joked about Hamish, the perpetual virgin with the long-distance girlfriend. When he felt like he was missing out, he'd always go back to 221B, just to be around the Doctor and River and to have their memories rub off on him.

Of course, to his surprise, there had been small encouragements. Every so often, there would be post cards, post-its, or the occasional gift, all from her in the future (and presumably future versions of himself, which accounted for her uncanny knowledge of what was happening to him).

A new set of beakers when he'd melted his in a lab accident that nearly burned off his right ear, accompanied with the message: Heard you had a bit of a mess in chem today—and by 'heard', I mean you told me. Watch that ear for me, will you?

A bright pink note on his desk after a night out with the boys where they'd all gone home with ladies and he'd rejected the advances of a few girls. Thank you, Mish. Only two years now—you can do this. I love you.

She'd even come to him, once, on a very bad night, and he'd hoped it had been her to pick him up early. But as soon as he'd seen her, he knew it was a much older version, at least nearing thirty. But it had been a welcome visit.

Hamish was shaken from his search by more clamoring classmates until he finally made his way to River and the Doctor. "Well, that was long and pretty dull. Sorry to bore you guys."

River shook her head. "Not at all. Shall we go out and celebrate? What sort of dinner would be worthy of a Molecular and Cellular Biochemistry major want?"

"A microscopic one," Hamish joked. "But really, I'm not all that hungry. We can just go home, if you like."

River noticed that he continued to scan the crowd and squeezed his hand. "She'll be around. Just you wait."

"If there's anything I know about my Lyra, it's that she's a punctual girl," the Doctor said. "Well, not really. If there's anything I know about her, it's actually that she's bossy. And short. Bossy and short and sometimes punctual!"

The trio left together, stopping to wish Hamish's friends congratulations, and he'd almost given up on seeing her that night. Maybe she'd be at the flat. Or maybe she'd be there in the morning.

"Mish, stop worrying, will you? She's not abandoning you."

"I didn't think she was! I was just…I just kind of hoped she would be here for graduation." He embarrassedly ran a hand through his neatly combed dark hair, messing it up the way he normally liked it.

"Don't be daft, Mish—of course I was here," a voice said from behind, and even though Hamish had spent all these years imagining how he would behave when he saw her again, he threw his plans out the window. He squeaked in disbelief, turned around, and let his jaw drop, because standing behind him was the most beautiful girl in the whole of creation, looking every bit as perfect as the first time he'd seen her and the last time he'd left her.

Bless her, she was still wearing the same clothes as she was four years ago—knee-length black skirt, red sweater, two bobby pins holding her hair back. She smiled at him. "Hi, dear. I told you I'd be back. Didn't you believe me?"

River and the Doctor laughed as Hamish scrambled over his feet to reach her and Clara ran forward to grab him, and Hamish remembered part of his plan—he picked her up by the waist and spun the tiny girl around before putting her down and kissing her for as long as he liked.

A few of the exiting guests and graduates happened to spot him and whistled, Harry among them. "Atta boy, Mish—'bout time we met the girlfriend. She's hot!"
"Oi!" he said, breaking the kiss for a moment but not breaking eye contact with Clara. "Do not objectify my girlfriend, Harry Smith! I'll tell your mother!"

Harry cringed. "Martha won't care—it's Dad that will have my arse for it."

Clara grinned, feeling like stars or tears or somethings were burning in her eyes, and she leaned up on tiptoe to wrap her arms around Hamish and kiss him again. "You got taller. And much, much cuter. Not that I was worried."

"You haven't aged a day."

"No, only about four hours. But those were a long four hours—not to downplay your four years, though!" She kissed him on the forehead, the cheeks, the nose, and nestled her head into his shoulder. "I'm so sorry, Mish. You and I—we're still okay, yeah? Because if you've met someone else, or if you don't want this anymore, I understand."

He rolled his eyes and kissed her again. "Does that answer your question?"

"I suppose. Oh, hi, Mum! Hi, Dad! Long time, eh?" she said, waving to her parents who were patiently waiting a few meters away.

"Come over here and hug your old dad, you numpty!" the Doctor demanded. "That is, if you could unattach your lips from the graduate's for a moment."

Clara giggled and kept a tight hold on Hamish's hand as she ran forward and hugged both of her parents. "It's brilliant to see you again, it really is, but I think I owe Hamish four years of adventures—can we catch up in an hour?"

River rolled her eyes. "One hour. And bring him back for dinner!"

Clara kissed her on the cheek in gratitude and tugged Hamish, laughing all the way, to the hidden blue box behind a tree across the street. "I know exactly where I'm taking you first!" she said mysteriously, pinning him to the TARDIS' doors when they got there. "That is, if you behave."

Hamish grinned and saluted her. "Aye, aye, Captain Oswald. Permission to snog the Captain before adventuring?"

"Granted. You're long overdue. But then we're off, and you're going to need your dancing shoes, Mish," she said as she pulled him by the robe into the TARDIS doors. Relishing the happy sigh he let out when he first walked back into the time machine for the first time in years, she pecked him on the cheek and piloted the TARDIS away.

"Er, the dancing shoes are fine, I suppose," Hamish said, "but it says here we're going somewhere in London, 23 years ago. What for?"

She shook her head. "First, lots of kissing, then we change into snappier clothes, then we have our first adventure. I thought by now you'd definitely be missing your parents."

"Where'd you take us, you impossible girl?"

"Their wedding reception. We're going to dance the night away." She crossed her arms and looked up at him. "Now, are you going to snog me or not?"

Okay, readers... You can yell at me now.

I know, I know-there was some seriously shoddy character development, some crazy body-swaps, a few themes that really just turned into muddly mush, and a serious lack of arc between Hamish's grief and moving on from the death of his parents. And it might be a bit unbelievable that he waited for four years for a girl he'd only just met, but I like to think of him as Rory in a way. Sometimes love hits you fast and refuses to let go. And it might seem a bit one-sided, but I tried to make it clear that Clara loved him back; she's just a lot more stubborn about admitting it.

Anyway, I realize there is a lot I should change, but I wanted to be finished with this work so I could let this story go for a bit until I knew what I wanted to change. Apologies to dissatisfied readers.

Also, there is a continuity error that should be addressed in the first part of this trilogy, Games... When River and the Doc are struggling with Clara's loss, the Doctor visits a future version of River to see how it all works out. But the next time Future River sees him and knows for certain that their daughter is alive and who she is (which she hints at knowing in the cell) is at Trenzalore, during the Doctor's death. So when the Doctor comes back, he must be seeing River after his own death, and her reaction to seeing her not-yet-dead husband isn't very sensible. So, readers, I leave myself open to your theories because River certainly won't tell me how this all works. Perhaps she did a bit of communicating with herself...

Personally, I think that she was being a very good actress and pretending like she wasn't thrilled to see the Doctor alive again, even selflessly giving up the chance to kiss him again so he could support her past self. Never let him see the damage, you know.

But then again, why was River in her cell at that point if she was traveling with Clara? Would her own daughter just drop her off at prison? Timey-wimey...

Thanks for your readership through the muddle! I promise to write with more clarity next time!
Cheers!