"Why don't you show us into this house...thing of yours?" Clara suggested, glancing up to the imposing building illuminated by the two suns. She had been so curious about it from the first moment she had seen it, and having to wait to check it out was causing her to get rather fidgety. While the Doctor had been in the TARDIS, she had been standing there awkwardly with Foreman. 

"Yes, Brook," the Doctor agreed, glancing at his companion for a moment. "I've been positively aching to get a peek inside of there."

"I'm just surprised the TARDIS didn't land inside to begin with," Brook said with a shrug. "She typically just shows up in the middle of the living room as I'm reading through the dictionary." She began leading the group onwards, towards the front doors. 

"Or when I'm trying to make tea and the sound makes me spill it all over myself," Foreman added in, his face melting into a slightly awkward smile. He sped up his pace slightly so that he would be closer to Brook  "I mean, it only happened once, but it did happen."

"And then I had to help clean it all up," Brook replied, a slight smirk coming to her face. "That was an interesting day in the Song household." 

"The Song household," the Doctor echoed. He had found it a bit strange that Brook had taken her mother's last name, but everything always seemed to be a bit strange to him. It wasn't the first time something like that had happened-of course, Melody Pond had been her mother's birth name. Besdies, he didn't really have that much of a last name himself. 

"It will be the Foreman household soon," Foreman corrected. He opened up the door to the house, gesturing for his fiancee to make her way through. She gave a slight curtsy as he did so, Clara and the Doctor trailing in after her. As Foreman was able to close the door and join them, a new conversation struck up. 

Once they were within the house, the Doctor and Clara's eyes were immediately drawn to a simple metal fireplace. Almost like a border around it was a bookcase that took up the entire wall. Books were littered all over it. The lower shelves were packed to the brim, but some of the upper shelves were still empty. 

There were several comfortable looking seats in front of the fireplace. Over to the side was what was evidently a kitchen. Nearby to this was a hallway that must have led to the rest of the house. 

"The Foreman household," Foreman repeated. "Welcome to our humble abode."

"Or as I like to call it, my TARDIS minus the timey wimey part," Brook giggled.

"Wait, the Foreman household?" Clara asked. "I thought that Foreman was more of a nickname."

"It's a last name used as a nickname," Brook clarified. "Like if I called you Oswald."

"Oswald," the Doctor repeated. "I think I should use that more often. It's got more interesting letters than Clara. Although I do like the name Clara." He would have continued to babble on about Clara and her name, but he was soon cut off by Brook. 

"Names, names, names," Brook chirped. "All we ever seem to think about is names. It's like there's nothing more to a person than their name when it comes to these sorts of things!"

"Names are important," Clara said. "I mean, they can be."

"Very much so," the Doctor agreed, clearing his throat and avoiding anyone's gaze for a moment. 

"But the thing about names is that you don't really get to choose them," Brook complained. She looked over to see Foreman raising his eyebrows at her. "Oh, don't give me that look!"

"Well, you're complaining about other people giving you your name while you gave me mine."

"But you like being called Foreman," Brook replied, her lips falling into a slight pout.

"I do," Foreman said, a smile curling up his lips. The two shared a moment of intense staring at one another. The Doctor and Clara looked between the couple, trying to figure out when this would end and they could move on.

"Wait," Clara began, finding a way to snap the two out of their little moment just for a while. "You don't like your name? I think Brook is rather pretty, to be honest."

"It's not that I don't like it," Brook replied. "I do like it. It's just a bit strange." She glanced up towards the ceiling, biting her lip as she thought for a moment. "But at least it's better than my middle name." At this, Foreman gave out a small snort. Even he thought that it was quite a name, apparently.

"Why, what is it?" the Doctor asked.

"You'll find out soon enough," Brook said, shrugging her shoulders. "I'm not exactly able to just go ahead and tell you. Spoilers, Daddy!"

The gleeful look on her face as she said those words made the Doctor feel slightly uncomfortable. She just had the essence of River throughout her, but he was having trouble seeing any of him within her. Maybe he was just blind to it, but it was not easy for him to believe that Brook was his daughter. 

"At least you made sure that I know what I don't want to do when it comes to naming. I don't want to have a child with a strange name," said Brook, glancing up in thought. "I mean, strange by  human standards. I'd want something that would fit in with either the twentieth or twenty first century."

"How specific of you," the Doctor said, tilting his head slightly. 

"They're my favorite centuries," Brook laughed. "Why wouldn't I want to fit something in from that time period?"

Both Clara and the Doctor gave a shrug as Foreman moved in towards his soon to be wife. "You're already thinking about what you're going to name our children?" asked Foreman. "We haven't even had the wedding yet, Brook."

There was a glint of nerves in his eyes. He was worried enough about just getting married to the curly haired girl, it seemed like it would be quite a long time before he would have to think about a family. But in this moment, it was all becoming quite real for him.

"Yes, Foreman," Brook replied. "I'd like to have a girl. A nice little girl named Susan."

"How specific of you," Foreman replied, repeating the words of the Doctor just a few moments ago. It became evident that this entire idea just simply made him feel uncomfortable. Where Brook was an enthusiastic daydreamer over this sort of thing, it just petrified him.

"So, her name would be Susan Foreman?" Clara asked. "I like that. There's just something about it that sounds right."

"Susan Foreman," the Doctor murmured under his breath. Clara very quickly became concerned and turned to him, but he just shook his head before she could start asking any questions. He needed more information before he could jump to any conclusions. At this point in time, he only had an outline of a puzzle. He knew things about Brook, but overall she was still a mystery to him.

"But still," Foreman protested. "I think the name Brook suits you quite well."

"You don't even know the start of it, dear," Brook laughed. 

The Doctor narrowed his eyes, starting to get suspicious of what this could mean. "What do you mean?"

"Here's the thing, though," Brook replied, her voice lowering down significantly. There was no longer such a bright tone to her voice. It had been dulled down immensely in a matter of seconds. "One day I decided to look up the definition of brook. I like doing that sort of thing, you know." 

She skittered over to the bookshelf, going straight for the center. Reaching in, she found herself a large red dictionary. The edges were cracked and crumpled, but the pages were in good condition. Hanging from the pages were colorful flags that Brook was going over.

"I have it marked in here. I've marked all sorts of things in my dictionary," Brook said. "Anything that I like or is related to my family, that sort of thing."

"Here it is," Brook announced as she turned to one of the tabbed pages. "The definition of brook. Daddy, you can do the honors." She handed the dictionary over to him as if it were her child, immensely important and fragile.

"Noun: A small stream," the Doctor read aloud. He was immediately confused as to why Brook thought this was so important. "Well, of course that's what it means. Because a stream is like a small river, and a small stream is a brook. You're River's daughter, and you're like a small...small river."

"No, no, no, no. Well, yes, but that's not why I showed this to you. It's the other definition that matters to me." Brook reached over to point to another pack of words right below the one the Doctor had just read. This time she read it aloud. 

"Verb: To put up with; tolerate." She bit her lip like it would make her feel better. "It's funny to think that's my name. Brook, the one who tolerated years almost alone. Who put up with pretty much raising herself." She let out a hoarse laugh. "Brook brooked."

While Brook fell into a state of silence, the Doctor became curious as to what the other things she had tabbed in the dictionary were. The colorful rectangles were making him itch to find out what they led to. She closed the dictionary and began to walk away, but he stopped her with his words.

"Wait, can I see that?"

He started reaching out for the dictionary. Brook smiled and handed it straight over to him without a single word, trying to be as pleasant as possible.

"To be perfectly honest, I was considering slapping your hand away and yelling 'Spoilers!' But there's no reason for that," she admitted.

The Doctor started flipping through and looking at the pages she had marked. It was mainly just the definitions of her friends' and family's names-"foreman, river, doctor." But there were also strange words that she had apparently found interesting-"aesthete, nefelibata, prosthetic." He let out a short laugh as he went through them. Soon he had seen enough, closing the book and handing it back to the curly haired girl.

Brook decided to change the subject into something that made her feel more in control. "It was rather funny, watching you trying to convince Mum to name me all sorts of things." She let out a snort and then quickly covered up her mouth, only slightly containing the multitude of giggles that were building up. 

"You were watching your own naming?" the Doctor replied, crossing his arms in front of him. "How exactly could you do that? Unless, of course, you have some sort of photographic memory, which I doubt. Although that would be rather cool, don't you think, Clara?" 

"Oh yes," Clara agreed, nodding her head. But now she had gained an interest in what was going on as well. 

"I may or may not have attended my own birth," Brook said, her face morphing into a sheepish smile. As she raised her arms in a shrug, Foreman came and hung his own arm around her shoulders.

"There's no reason to worry about it," Foreman said. "Yes, it's a bit of a paradox, but evidently nothing occurred. Besides, she's a nurse."

"The Doctor's daughter is a nurse," Clara said, echoing the words from before. She let out a giggle, but the joyous noise was not joined by any others. "Oh, come on. Someone else must find that funny as well!"

"I love paradoxes," Brook said, shrugging again. With every slight movement, her curls seemed to begin to fly out. She began to walk away, forcing Foreman to drop his arm from around her.  

"Clara!" she said, as if she were only just remembering what she was trying to do. "Come on, Oswald. We have to get ready for the wedding."

"Oh?" Clara said, surprised by this sudden turn of events. "I don't have anything to wear, I..."

"I have something for you," Brook explained. "Just come with me. Daddy. Foreman. You get ready too."

Before any questions could be thrown upon her, she grabbed Clara's hand and started leading her away. Clara had been whisked away into the hallway of the household. It had long hallways that occassionally twisted around like the TARDIS, but it actually seemed like one could navigate their way through. 

Brook wasted no time in making to her room. She collapsed onto a chair, throwing her head back and closing her eyes. "Oh, what a thing to be thinking about on my wedding day!" she cried out melodramatically. Although her emotions were exaggerated, they were still sincere emotions. Seeing the distress written all over the curly haired girl's face, Clara took a step forwards to see if she could do anything to help. 

This was one of the strangest things about being around Brook. She seemed like she looked up to Clara as an authority figure, as more of an older sister than anything else. But in reality, she was actually several years older than the souffle girl. It was strange having to act as a sort of caretaker for someone who appeared to have more age than her. It was one thing for Clara to deal with the Doctor, but Brook was acting somewhat like a younger child...in a way. 

"Is something wrong?" Clara asked, clearing her throat after hearing her voice begin to crack. 

"Well, of course something is wrong!" Brook replied. "I was hoping you'd notice.

"So, uh..." Clara said. "What exactly is wrong?"

"Love," Brook simply stated. She stared at Clara straight on, hardly even blinking. "I'm having a problem with love."

"Well, that doesn't seem like the sort of thing you'd normally be having a problem about on a wedding day," Clara responded, trying to get herself feeling more comfortable in the situation. 

"But that's the thing," Brook said. "I'm questioning feelings of love and it's just hours before I'm going to be heading off to get married to someone I'm supposed to spend the rest of my life with."

"You are getting married to Foreman," Clara said. "I mean, you must love him. He doesn't seem like the type who would have forced you into anything like this."

"Oh, no," Brook sighed. "He didn't force me into anything. But the problem isn't really him, it's me. I mean, I love Foreman. I can feel it in both of my hearts, coursing throughout my body each and every day."

"Then I don't see what the problem is," Clara replied. She put on a smile as she said, "I think the two of you are going to be just fine."

"But just fine...I don't think that's enough!" Brook exclaimed. "I've seen what love can be like, when two people truly care about each other. I've seen love where people are willing to rip time and space apart for one another and then sew it back together. My own parents did it, for goodness sake!"

Clara took a moment to herself to process this. If one thing had been bothering her above everything else, it was the subject of Brook's parents. The Doctor didn't seem to believe that this curly haired girl was truly his daughter, but she continued to press it. 

She had never really understood who Brook's mother was supposed to be, either. But apparently whoever it was the Doctor loved immensely. If he cared so much, how come he had never bothered to tell Clara? That seemed like an important thing to tell someone before you carry them away in a magic blue box.

"I don't think I could ever love Foreman that much. I don't think I could ever love anyone that much, and that's what is bothering me. It hurts me to think that I can't be enough."

Clara could do nothing but nod. She just waited for Brook to say more, which was indeed what happened.

"Can I tell you a secret?" Brook asked, her eyes gleaming.

"As long as you think I'm trustworthy enough to keep it," Clara replied, her lips curling up into a smile.

"Now that is most definitely the Clara I'm used to," Brook laughed. "And I find that you and her are very trustworthy. Daddy will find all of this out later on, so I think he can just wait until then."

Brook cleared her throat before moving forwards. "I didn't know I was in love with Foreman until the very day we got engaged. It was just hours before he got down on one knee and gave me the ring. He had told me that he was in love with me so long before then, but only that day was I able to truly be able to respond with those same words. 'I love you.' They're so simple, and yet so difficult to say."

"I know the feeling," Clara said. "Well, sort of. I think every person goes through that sort of phase in their life, but it seems like yours is more severe than most."

"Thank you," Brook breathed. "Just...thank you for listening and understanding." When she looked over to Clara, she began to stand up. She fidgeted slightly, wondering whether she should give her father's companion a hug or just continue standing there. 

Her arms began to reach out, but she pulled them back after realizing how awkward the situation was. After baring her soul out to Clara, telling someone who viewed her as a stranger some of her deeper secrets, the air in the room was already tense enough. Instead, Brook decided to go along with why she had claimed to bring Clara there in the first place.

"Let me go ahead and get that dress for you," said Brook. "I'm sure you'll look lovely in it. You look lovely in everything."

"Thank you," Clara replied, unsure if this was what she was supposed to be saying. "Thank you, I guess."

"I'm sorry," Brook suddenly apologzied. "This must be so strange for you. I mean, I know you so well, but you don't have a clue who I am. I don't like the way this feels. Mum always talked about this sort of thing happening, but I never really thought about it happening to me. Not on my wedding day, of all times."

Clara nodded, her face sympathetic. Again, she was at a loss for words. How were you supposed to comfort someone in such a situation? It wasn't like anything she had ever experienced before in her whole life. "Let's get that dress, shall we?" she suggested. "We have a wedding to prepare for."