March 2014

Clara peered up at the tops of buildings, eyes narrowed against the sunlight peeking in between the skyscrapers and she turned swiftly to the lanky man at her side examining a newspaper with a frown. Always a frown, she considered, and she knew their little daytrip into New York would turn into something else. Of course, he was also worried about the stability of the fabric of time in Manhattan and their proximity to that with the Tardis.

He'd muttered something about a test run.

Maybe he'd see friends.

"Doctor, you're missing the sights."

He waved a hand, "New York, 2014; seen it."

She shrugged, "Maybe I can find someone else then; someone a little more interested in showing me the sights – giving me a tour; taking me for a boat ride along the harbour."

Straightening, the Doctor smiled, "Do you fancy a boat ride, Clara?"

Sighing, she looked over his face – the distance in his eyes, trying desperately to juggle some remnant of his past with the woman in front of him – and she shook her head. "I bet you've been on a ship, sailed over the ocean, seen the seas of countless planets."

"Pirates," he nodded, "It's always pirates. Rowdy bunch, always looking for trouble and – mind you – finding it in droves, moreso than any treasure they happen to be after. Did I ever tell you about the siren that turned out to be a spaceship's medical system reaching out into a breach in the universe? Plucked the pirates right off their ship – plucked my Tardis…"

Clara laughed, "Doctor, how about we find a tour boat. Sort shaped like ducks."

He stopped, smiling eagerly, "I like the duck shaped boats. They encourage quacking; I enjoy the quacking."

"You would," she snorted as they continued walking.

The Doctor folded the newspaper and tucked it to his side, grinning when she wove her arm through his as they moved and he raised a finger to ask if she'd ever been to see Time Square when a man in a long leather coat pushed between them, turning to mutter an apology before his eyes landed on Clara and he froze, paper gripped in his hand, frustrated look on his face fading. Replaced with one of contemplative nostalgia.

"I'm sorry," he told her with a shake of his head.

"Do I know you?" Clara asked, head tilting, and she could see the Doctor eyeing her and then looking to the new man who was still looking her over.

The Doctor gave Clara a small tug, offering, "We're in New York; you've never been to New York – you can't know one another."

She turned and gave him a swift rise of one eyebrow, allowing, "Never saw you before you showed up with my name on your lips."

"Clara," Killian managed, giving his head a shake, as though the name had somehow been dropped into it heavily before he smiled and offered a small chuckle, "Sorry, first thing…"

She pointed, "Killian."

The Doctor's eyes went wider as he asked, "It's like an awkward psychic party where no one knows they're psychic and everyone's uncomfortable, especially the uninvited guest."

"What?" They asked.

"Nothing, sorry, can we help you?" The Doctor asked, gesturing at the paper in Killian's hand.

He jerked slightly, still sneaking looks at Clara before he unfolded it and offered it to the Doctor, "Was looking for… was looking for an old friend – managed to get an address from one of these Yellow Pages books, but these old sea legs aren't accustomed to the complexities of villages this large." He laughed nervously, "Her name is Emma. Emma Swan." Looking to Clara, he continued, "If you could please help me; I've been searching for quite some time and it's fairly important."

"Dire circumstances," the Doctor supplied with a laugh. "These old space legs are very accustomed to those complexities."

"But not to New York," Clara scoffed.

"Nonsense," he waved at her, studying their location, eyes narrowed now against the sun as he examined the street signs and Clara smiled because she knew he hadn't been paying attention and she knew she should tease him about it, but she was curious about the fellow waiting patiently, a look of longing in his eyes.

"Lost love," she offered.

His eyes came up to meet hers, and then he smiled. It was natural and honest and it made Clara's heart skip a beat because she knew that smile. She hid it behind her lips daily. "Haven't seen her in some time."

"Well," the Doctor interrupted, "You're on the right path."

Clara and Killian both turned to look at him, both with perplexed looks, as though they'd suddenly remembered something they'd forgotten before it fluttered away again and Killian finally asked, "I'm heading in the right direction then?"

With an awkward smile and another look between his companion and the pirate, he nodded, "Should be that building, just a few blocks up the street."

Taking the paper back as the Doctor handed it to him, Killian nodded his appreciation and just before departing, he took another lingering look at Clara, then ducked his head and broke into a jog. "Good luck," she whispered.

The Doctor turned and caught her turning the skin at her ring finger, brow furrowed together in contemplation and he shifted to stand between her and the other man, lifting his Sonic to give her face a buzz and when she snapped out of it and met his eye, now looking confused, he nodded slowly. "Good, was beginning to think your mind had slipped."

"Because yours never wanders," she teased.

"Oh, aimlessly," he replied with a laugh before pocketing the Sonic and clapping his hands, "Tour of the harbour, what do you say?"

Clara giggled when he put out one hand, eager grin on his lips, and she passed one last look at the pirate in the distance before letting that secret smile drift onto her lips for him as she replied, "Yo ho."

End.