"Come on, Finch, it's got to be here somewhere."
"She, Mr. Reese. She will be there somewhere, sometime. Be patient."
"I'll be sure to give her your love," Reese smirked. "Your undying devotion. If we ever find her."
"John, despite this very clever program, which I wish I had written, my computers are not designed to detect…" He trailed off.
"I thought you said you had satellites, Harold."
"Go west, Mr. Reese! Go now. You'll just catch her."
Reese took off at an easy lope down the Central Park paths. It was the most beautiful morning he had seen in a long time, and he might have looked like any other jogger, except that other joggers didn't wear suits and run with the lean grace of a panther.
He went west, and in not many moments he heard it, a sound that made him break out into a grin. "Found her, Harold."
There was a whirling in the air and in the leaves of the trees, and then there was something that had not been there before, a tall blue box. When the door opened and a young man with a long nose stuck said nose out, he nearly bumped said nose into the very fine jacket of the very nice suit worn by the tall, dark, handsome, and oddly dangerous-looking man who was standing there with his arms crossed and a grin on his face.
For a moment they stared at each other, the young man with a look of bewildered caution on his rather ordinary face and the tall man with an intense examination. Not the Doctor, Reese decided. Wrong eyes. Intriguing eyes for the face, though. This boy had seen more than most.
"Is he in?" he asked softly, with that underlying sardonic edge that marked most of his conversations with Finch.
The young man poked his nose back inside. "Er, Doctor? There's someone to see you."
"Doctor, are you making house calls now?" a female voice called. Not Martha's. Scottish. The door jerked open. A tall girl with red hair pushed the boy aside. "Out of the way, stupid." She stared at Reese. "Well, what do we have here?" Her smile said, I find you terribly attractive. She was terribly attractive. Also not the Doctor. "Oi, Doctor! Your friend has come to play!"
"How do you know I'm his friend?"
"You look like his friend. You've got a stupid grin, not a pale face and wide eyes. You've met the Doctor before. You look like everybody else who's ever met the Doctor and has been waiting for him to come back."
"I take it you know something about waiting."
"Yes, I do. Like right now. Doctor!"
A young man burst out of the TARDIS. Ah, yes, that was the Doctor. Not the same Doctor, but no one could ever mistake him for anything but the Doctor. Tall, oddly-clothed, untidy hair, long, odd, eager face, younger than ever, very boyish-looking—but the eyes. Never would Reese miss those eyes. Older than ever, sadder than ever, more joyous than ever.
"John!" He leapt forward and tackled Reese, who gingerly patted his back and felt an amused sympathy for Finch.
"You know me this time?"
"Of course I do."
"How's Harold? Brilliant little Harold—how is he?"
"Harold's fine, Doctor. He's at the library. He says hi. Sends the TARDIS his love. Sometimes I've caught him daydreaming about her."
The Doctor laughed.
"I heard that, Mr. Reese," Finch said with disapproval in his voice. "I do not daydream."
"Oh, yes, you do."
"Do what?" the girl asked.
"Daydream," Reese said. "Harold. He daydreams about the TARDIS."
"Is he your son?"
He laughed aloud. "Hardly. Why don't you come meet him? Doctor?"
"We haven't even met you yet," the young man said with an accusatory look at the Doctor.
The ever-younger Doctor slapped him on the back. "Mrs. and Mr. Amelia Pond, meet John Reese. Ex-CIA agent, protector of the weak, defender of the innocent. Not his real name, of course. That's a secret."
"I've never told you my real name."
"Oh, but you have. In the future, which is my past. Reminds me of someone. Ask no questions. Spoilers!" He spun around. "John, meet Amy and Rory Pond."
"Williams!" Rory said, with a resigned indignation.
"Pond. Why are you here, John?"
Reese put on a hurt look. "To see you. We heard you were coming to town and thought we'd say hi."
"Hi. Is that all?" The Doctor gave him a hard stare, rather like he remembered his grandmother doing when she knew he was lying.
"Yes, that's all."
"Heard? Heard how?"
"You know Harold."
"Yes, I do. Right. To the library it is. Come along, Ponds!"
"But I wanted to see New York!" Amy protested.
"You will! Harold first, then New York."
Rory raised his shoulders and went in. Amy linked her arm in Reese's. She was nearly as tall as he was.
"A library? Anything spooky going on?" she said with relish.
"Only Harold," Reese said with a straight face.
"So who's Harold?" she asked confidentially, drawing him inside.
"My partner in crime-prevention," he answered distractedly, staring at the inside of the TARDIS. She was different. Glass floor, bright orange and green, the organic look gone. "Does she change when the Doctor does?"
"I don't know. They've both been this way my whole life. Is Harold a CIA agent like you? I've never met a CIA agent. Only FBI, Secret Service, and the President. Nixon. And Winston Churchill."
He stared at her. "Winston Churchill?"
Rory waved his hand around. "Time machine."
"Right. And no, Harold is absolutely not CIA. No one could be less CIA."
"Thank you, Mr. Reese," Finch said in his ear.
"Harold, didn't anyone ever teach you it's not polite to eavesdrop on other people's conversations?"
"Yes, they did, John."
"How are you talking to him?"
"Something in his ear, obviously," Rory said.
Amy made a face at him. "Rory Williams, the only person ever to walk into the TARDIS and not say, 'It's bigger on the inside.'"
"I didn't say that."
"No, but you thought it, didn't you, Mr. CIA Agent?"
Well, he had. "Who are you two?"
Amy smirked. "We're the Doctor's parents-in-law."
He just looked at her.
"No, it's true," Rory said. "He married our daughter. Who's older than we are and grew up with us—it's complicated."
Talk about it. "Is she here?"
"No, I think she's in prison. Is she still in prison, Amy?"
"As far as I know. She doesn't really mention it when she visits."
Reese's head was whirling, and so was the TARDIS.