"Why are you still following me?! Didn't I say to let me alone?"

She crossed her arms over her chest. "I want to come with you."

He shook his head, hair falling into his eyes. "And why would you want that? Just being around me almost got you killed twice today." He turned around again to leave and she darted in front of him. "I told you before," he said, raking one hand through his hair in exasperation, "that's not how I work. Not anymore, and it's better that way. Nothing you could say...."

"When my mother was a girl her grandfather would tell her about his dreams," she began, deliberately holding his gaze. "And when I was a girl she told me. In these dreams he was always a young man and he said there was always another man with him, a man who spoke like an Englishman but wasn't one. A man whose eyes were older than the rest of him." Something very much like fear started to dawn in his deep-set eyes. "He said that this man traveled in a blue box with magic at its heart." She sent a very significant look over his shoulder at the blue box standing impossibly real in the field behind him, then stepped forward until there was almost no space between them at all.

She balled her hands into fists to keep them from shaking. "And he told her that if she ever met such a man she should fly after him and never look back."

For a long moment he just stood there, emotions churning like a storm in those old, old eyes. When he finally did speak it was in a whisper. "Your mother. What was her name? Her clan?"

She took a deep breath. "McRimmon."

He cupped her face and searched her face as if looking for something long lost, then suddenly pulled off her feet into an enormous hug. She knew she ought to have been startled by the double-tap of his heart, but that had always been in her mother's stories, too. "Shall we go, then?" he said, his voice muffled by her hair

She only nodded, her own heart beating so fast she wondering if he could hear it. It wasn't every day one got the chance to step into a dream.