Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Everything was a bit of a rush, but that was to be expected when you were being chased by a former, long-dead governess who was made completely out of ice. Who was also trying to kill them, or at least seriously injure them. She’d found herself on the wrong side of the strange magical barrier (or perhaps the right side, depending on one’s perspective), much to the Doctor’s consternation. She’d been chased by said governess up the stairs, and had been pulled through a tight window that didn't accommodate for her dress sense. She’d fallen on top of the Doctor, leading to an extremely awkward interaction, and now was hurtling up a staircase that didn't make sense. This coming after passing what seemed like a test, finding the appropriate ladder with a handily available umbrella.

   As mentioned, it was a rush.

   “So you can move your cloud? You can control it?”

   It probably wasn’t the most pertinent of questions for Clara to be asking, but it was one that suddenly found itself bouncing around her brain. Perhaps it was a coping mechanism to deal with the madness of her present events, focusing on something so mundane that it made everything else seem normal. Then again, holding the hand of a man who could control clouds wasn’t remotely typical, so where could she possibly draw the line? All she wanted to do was look out towards the snowy skyline, admiring how gorgeous it was from above, before realising how terrifying the white scenery actually was.

   “No!” the Doctor responded, clumsily climbing down a few steps to answer her queries. “No one can control clouds. That would be silly! The wind…a little bit.” He was doing that thing with his hands where he couldn’t keep them still, the thing that she was finding quite charming.

   There was a disgruntled roar from down below and Clara worriedly looked over the edge, making sure to grip the impossible steel bar. “She’s following us!”

   “That’s the idea.” Was there a reason why he sounded so excited about that? He was moving again, almost too fast a pace for her to keep up with. “Keep her away from the snow!” He was practically taking two steps at a time in his haste, and yet made sure to check that she was still there. “So…barmaid or governess? Which is it?”

   “That thing is after us and you want to chat?”

   “You were just asking about the clouds!”

   “That was before I knew that you were wanting her to pursue us!”

   The Doctor came to a stop, turning to face her impatiently. “Well, the way I see it…we can’t chat after we’ve been horribly killed, can we?” And then he was moving again, as if his body couldn’t make up its mind.

   Clara was only too willing to follow the madman instead of being claimed by the monster. “How did we get up so high so quick?”

   “Clever staircase. It’s taller on the inside.”

   “That doesn’t make any sense.”

   “Does any of this?”

   “Not really…such as…” She looked at the mist now surrounding them, thick and swirling as they finally left the spiralling steps. “What are we standing on? What’s this made of?”

   He had a strange device in his hand that she’d seen a few times, the one that made a horrendous sound and glowed like nothing she’d seen before. He was pointing it at the ground for some reason. She couldn’t start to ponder what use it was going to do. Though it had originally shattered the governess into a thousand tiny shards of ice, so it could have some sort of effect. Clara just hoped that he didn't inadvertently shatter the cloud currently supporting them, because it was one mighty drop that would be greeting them, and she didn't want her evening to end that way.

   “Incredibly dense water vapour,” he explained. “Should keep her trapped for the moment.”

   Clara spied the strange blue, wooden box that she’d knocked on not too long ago. It was dirty and unkempt, and yet thrummed with the sort of life and possibility that she couldn’t explain. It was straight out of a fairytale, the way she saw it. How had she found herself in the pages of one of those books? What had she done to be so lucky?

   “So you actually live on a cloud in a box?” she wondered, dancing through the smoke.

   “I have done for a long time now.”

   “Blimey, you really know how to sulk, don’t ya?”

   “I’m not sulking!”

   “You live in a box!”

   “That’s no more a box than you are a governess.”

   She scowled at his words, watching him walk towards the two front doors. “Oh, spoken like a man!” She pointed a finger at him accusingly, though he couldn’t see. “You know, you’re the same as all the rest. Sweet, little Clara, works in the Rose and Crown .” She barely acknowledged him opening the doors, idly following in his footsteps. “ Ideas above her station. Well, for your information, I’m not sweet on the inside and I’m certainly not…”

   He flicked a switch dramatically and the lights turned on, dazzling her momentarily. The interior was larger than she could fathom, mostly silver, a design plan that would have made most people across society gape and exclaim in incredulity. There was some contraption in the centre, the likes of which even the most fabled fiction writers would fail to come up with. All Clara could do was stand completely still, trying to comprehend what she was seeing, whilst doing her best to ignore the cocky smirk he was wearing at finally getting one over her.

   “...little,” she finished meekly. 

   The Doctor held out his arms wide. “It’s called the Tardis. It can travel anywhere in time and space…and it’s mine .”

   “But it’s…it’s…” She could feel her chest heaving, despite the amazed grin that wanted to appear on her face. “Look at it…it’s..”

   “Go on, say it. Most people do.”

   She heard him chuckle softly as she raced outside the box once more, but she didn't care about that. She was too focused on how absurd the contraption was, running around the incomprehensibly small perimeter, dragging her hands across the wooden panels that definitely felt like wood but couldn’t possibly be wood. Clara felt her skirt billowing as she completed the lap in next to no time, charging back in front of the Doctor, skidding to a halt.

   “It’s smaller on the outside,” she said breathlessly.

   He raised his eyebrows. “Okay…” He almost looked disappointed. “That is a first.”

   Worried that something may go wrong, she slowly edged around the console. “Is it magic?” That seemed like the only explanation. “Is it a machine?”

   “It’s a ship.”

   She laughed. “A ship?” It looked nothing like one of those. She chose to jog up the steps, trying to decipher what lay beyond, currently out of sight.

   “The best ship in the universe!”

   Clara, moving from spot to spot so quickly that her mind could barely keep up, was by his side once more. “Is there a kitchen?”

   The Doctor had been typing something into his machine, but he froze at the question. “Another first.”

   She was staring at the screen, which was displaying an image that was somehow moving, a collection of colours and shapes that were dancing for her own entertainment. She was utterly enthralled by the spectacle, when he was giving it no second thoughts. She wondered how long it would take before she ever took this thing for granted.

   “I…don’t know why I asked that,” Clara said quietly, feeling rather embarrassed about the strange outburst. “It’s just…I like making souffles.”

   Not for the first time, the Doctor paused, though she was too busy running back towards the door to notice. “Souffles?”

   She ignored the question, thinking it was irrelevant compared to what was going on. She spun to face him, still clutching the umbrella. “Why are you showing me all this?”

   “You followed me, remember. I didn't invite you.”

   “You’re nearly a foot taller than I am.” She observed his hesitation, knowing she was on the right lines. She brandished the umbrella to make her point. “You could have reached that ladder without this. You took it…for me.” She threw it through the air and he deftly caught it without flinching. “Why?”

   The Doctor, a soft smile on his face, walked hesitantly towards her, reaching into his right trouser pocket. “I never know why. I only know who .”

   He held a silver key in front of her face as if it were the most important object in the world. Clara stared at it for a few moments, before her gaze flickered back to his. Gently, he raised her arm so that he could place the key flat on her palm, folding her fingers over it to keep it safe. Despite the coolness of the metal, it came with a strange sense of warmth that didn't make sense, but that was perfectly acceptable in the fairytale she’d entered.

   “What’s this?” She could feel her eyes starting to water and she didn't know where to look.

   “Me…giving in.”

   Her eyes darted rapidly, fixing on his sincere gaze, dropping to their hands clasped together, noticing the absurd tie that he thought was cool. She gave off a short, nervous laugh. “I don’t know why I’m crying…”

   “I do. Remember this. Remember this, right now, all of it. Because this is the day. This is the day…” His voice grew louder as he danced around the console. “This is the day everything begins!”

   She was smiling, until she felt a pair of icy hands wrap around her torso. In her shock, her arms were thrown up into the air and the key clattered to the floor. She was being dragged out from the Tardis by her frozen predecessor and she yelled out for help, yelled out for the only man she felt could help. 

   “Clara!” the Doctor shouted. “Clara!”

   She was back onto the strange cloud, though she could no longer marvel at its impossible presence. “Get off of me!”

   “Water vapour doesn’t stop ice, I should’ve realised,” the Doctor berated himself as he followed them outside cautiously, holding out his hands in what he hoped was a peaceful manner.

   “Get off!” Clara couldn’t fight against her surprisingly strong grip, quickly being pulled towards the edge of the cloud.

   “Let her go. Let her go now!”

   “Get off! Please get off!”

   “Clara! No, Clara!”

   They shared one final look. In that split second, knowing what was going to happen next, she tried to take it all in for one last time. The cloud that could move wherever it wanted. The mind-boggling blue box that defied proper description. The handsome man who had bumped into her on the street, with his old, sad eyes that were now frightened, after briefly showing their underlying warmth just moments before. She heard him yell out desperately, reaching out towards her in one final attempt to save her. But it was too late.

   She was falling. She was heading towards the skyline she had been admiring a short while ago, in an ironic twist of fate. She was scared. Scared of the creature tumbling beside her. Scared of what would happen when she invariably met the ground. Scared of how the children would react to such devastation on the brink of Christmas day. All Clara could do was console herself with the fact that she had been able to experience the magical dream, the excitement and wonder almost making this worth it. Who knew…perhaps she would wake up soon and find herself calmly in bed, having concocted the entire story in her head.

   She heard a groaning and wheezing sound but thought that was just the noise of the wind rushing around her head and filling her ear drums. She paid it no notice, closing her eyes as the breeze picked up, before she was surrounded by something else. She was still falling and she still kept her eyes clamped firmly shut, but it felt different somehow. She’d been falling for so long that she started to believe that it would never end. And then Clara felt a sharp pain in her back and what seemed like a splashing sound. She couldn’t process what that meant as everything went black.

**********

   When she woke up again, she was somehow back inside the house, laying stiffly on the sofa. Strax was looming over her, flashing a device in her face and the red light made her wince in discomfort. Clara attempted to crane her neck to look around, to see what was going, but discovered that the small action brought with it an abundance of sharp pain. Why was her hair damp? Why was she no longer in her previous outfit, instead clad in the red dress that she normally sported in her other life? What would Captain Montague think? Although she distinctly remembered that her lies had unravelled quite spectacularly thanks to the Doctor.

   The Doctor.

   The thought of him made her want to sit up, but the strange creature caring for her kept her back pressed against the lounger with one of his grotesque hands. She wanted to fight against him but, just like the governess, his strength was unlike anything else she’d experienced. She froze (she was well aware of the irony), immediately frightened to turn around and find the icy monster still with her, still holding onto her, still pulling her into the abyss. 

   Someone must have picked up on her distress because they were soon holding her hand, rubbing a thumb over her knuckles to soothe her. Clara looked up, deciding once and for all that she must have been dreaming because the Doctor was looking down at her, his eyes gleaming, a contented smile lighting up his face as he watched her slowly wake up.

   “Hi there,” he murmured. “We’ve all been very worried about you.”

   She could sense everyone else in the room and yet all she focused on was the man leaning over her. Strax had chosen to move away when his superior had arrived. It was just the two of them, in their little bubble, smiling away simply because they could.

   “What…happened?” Clara asked.

   “The governess tried to take you away from me, but I wasn’t going to let that happen.” The Doctor’s expression turned grim. “You were falling. Thankfully, I’m a brilliant pilot and was able to input emergency protocols into the Tardis. We caught you. Programmed all the doors towards the swimming pool to open so that you’d have a cushioned landing. The shock of it caused you to lose consciousness but, other than a few aches and pains, you’re going to be alright, Clara. Perfect, in fact.”

   “A swimming pool?” Her voice was soft, talking almost taking too much effort.

   “It was either that or a trampoline. I didn't have a lot of time to decide.”

   “You have a swimming pool in your ship?”

   “That, and so much more. There’s so much more for you to discover.” He was giddy, exactly like a toddler on Christmas morning. She idly pondered what he must have asked for as a gift.

   “You saved me.”

   “Of course I did. The Tardis isn’t used to such short jumps and I’m fairly certain that we technically bent quite a few of the laws of Time to ensure we got to you so promptly, which means she’s going to be out of action for a short while. Just a couple of days whilst she recovers. As you noticed, I haven’t taken her for a spin in a long time so it must have been a rather rude awakening. I think she’s cross with me.”

   “But…why? Why go to all that effort just to save me?”

   He was holding her hand and she felt something familiar slip in between her fingers. “I don’t know why. I just know who.”

   Clara grinned as she spotted the same key she’d carelessly dropped, and she held it tighter than ever before. Something was still bothering her though. Something important. Something she wouldn’t have overlooked if she wasn’t still recovering from the shock of her fall. She groaned, wanting to sit up and the Doctor was more obliging to help her than Strax, who grimaced from his spot in the corner at the motion of her inessential movement. She spotted the captain clutching his children, whose cheeks were stained with tears, though they were now wearing matching grins. Vastra and Jenny were happy to stay to one side, mainly because the maid kept looking at them cautiously.

   Clara’s eyes went wide. “What about the Snowmen? Mr Simeon?”

   The Doctor waved a hand dismissively. “All accounted for.”

   “How?” she asked curiously, her accent becoming more pronounced.

   “Does it matter?”

   “I’m giving you the opportunity to show off just how smart you are, which is something that a man with your ego never overlooks.” 

   He smirked at her comment, straightening his bowtie. “If you must know…the governess was also caught by the Tardis, but I made sure that she shattered upon impact. Once I collected all of her remaining shards, I threw them into the time vortex.”
  “The what ?”

   “Basically the realm that my ship flies through. It was powerful enough to completely eradicate her, ripping apart her atoms until there was nothing left. Once the Great Intelligence sensed that she’d disappeared with no chance of coming back, it left Doctor Simeon. It was one failure too many, I suppose. He’s been left as a bumbling wreck, a grown man with a child’s mind. It seems that he’d been under the Intelligence’s influence for decades. No wonder he was so cruel.”

   “That poor bloke.”

   The Doctor’s eyebrows knitted together. “He was nearly responsible for your death.”

   “You just implied that it wasn’t his fault. If he was a kid when something happened to him, that shouldn’t be held against him. He won’t cause any harm now, that’s all I can judge him on.”

   The Doctor’s smile was warm and affectionate. “Maybe I was so preoccupied with what might have happened to you that I forgot to look at it in that way.”

   “Then it’s a good job that you’ve still got me around.”

   “It really is.”

   “We’ll make sure that Doctor Simeon is cared for,” Vastra commented, forcing them both to remember that they were surrounded by other people. It was too easy to become wrapped up in the other’s company. “He’ll get the psychiatric help that he needs. There’s plenty of money to fund it, with what was left of his institute.”

   “Everything works out for the best then. It’s looking like one of my better Christmases.”

   “What about…what did you call it? The Great Intelligence? Has that gone? Could the snowmen come back?”

   “I’m sure I’ll run into it one day. It’ll be concocting a new plan, now there’s snow chance this latest endeavour is going to work.” He was quite disappointed to see Clara pull her face at his attempt at humour. “Oh, come on! That was funny.”

   “I’ll let it slide.”

   “Thank you.”

   “But only if you answer one more question…”

   “Go on…”

   Clara was wearing a devilish smirk. “Who changed me out of my clothes?”

   The Doctor went bright pink. “It wasn’t me! I assure you! Not that I don’t want to see that…but I’m also not saying that I do …I was busy dealing with the snow globe and…you know…reassuring the Tardis after her brief trip…and…and…are you even wearing new clothes? I didn't notice until you mentioned it.”

   She put a hand on his arm to stop him from rambling. “This is going to be fun, teasing you all the time. You’re cute when you blush.”

   He grinned despite how awkward he was feeling. “All the time? Does that mean that you’ve considered my proposal?”

   “I don’t know yet…” She only relished in how quickly his face fell. “Didn't you say that your ship will be out of action for a while?”

   “Just to give her a chance to settle back down.”

   “Do you know what that means?”

   “I’m almost afraid to ask.”

   “You have to stay for Christmas dinner! Then I might consider giving you my answer, if you could ever doubt it.”

Chapter Text

 “It’s good to see you like this again, old friend.”

   The Doctor was currently navigating one of the staircases into the Tardis console room, carrying three large cardboard boxes that were completely obscuring his line of vision. With a Santa hat perched precariously on his head, five lines of tinsel wrapped around various parts of his body, and a holly wreath strewn around his neck, it was safe to say that he was getting in the festive spirit. Even when he tripped up over a poorly placed step that he had no chance of seeing, sending the boxes flying with some wince-inducing smashing sounds, the smile didn't leave his face.

   Vastra was standing much more serenely by the console, her arms folded as she watched the spectacle unfold. The Silurian had offered to assist him, but had also been more than happy when he’d claimed he didn't need any sort of help. There wasn’t a lot of high quality entertainment to be had in Victorian London (unless there was a particularly gruesome murder to solve), so she was making the most of this opportunity. Even the Tardis seemed to chirp in what must have resembled laughter at the fate of her pilot, though the Doctor decided to ignore the ship’s attitude. 

   He straightened his hat and dusted off his clothes, hoping to pretend like nothing had happened. “Like what?”

   Vastra had expected him to be defensive but it still remained a tedious trait of his. “Happy.”

   “It’s Christmas!” the Doctor argued, inspecting the damage to the decorations inside the boxes. “It’s basically a requirement to be happy. I am, and always will be, someone who follows the rules.”

   “I’m struggling to comprehend just how many lies you managed to fit within one sentence. You were perfectly happy to let Christmas pass you by just a few days ago, with a frown marred across your face and a sign that told any carol singers to steer well clear.”

   “Are you planning on simply standing there, being sarcastic?”

   “Do I need to do anything else?”

   “You could help. That would be extremely nice of you. Christmassy, in fact. It’d be a Christmassy thing for you to do. Call it my present.”

   “From my perspective, it looks as if you’ve got everything in order. If I attempted to muddle in now, I could ruin the entire endeavour.”

   “You know…I don’t like it when you’re in this sort of mood,” he grumbled.

   “Pray tell…”

   The Doctor pointed an accusatory finger. “Smug. You’re a very smug lizard right about now.”

   “Don’t I have every reason to be, Doctor? I was, after all, correct in my assumptions. You couldn’t close yourself off to adventure for the rest of your life. It took a considerable amount of time to see you off that cloud, yes. But it makes the victory all that sweeter.”

   “What do you want me to say?”

   “Just admit that you’re happy for once in a very long time.”

   “I don’t want to give you the satisfaction.”

   “That’s all the confirmation I needed,” she replied with a smirk.

   “You got what you wanted. I found that spark again. I’m willing to view the universe differently, as long as it keeps up the same bargain.”

   “The universe doesn’t cut deals with anyone, even someone as powerful as you.”

   The Doctor smiled sadly. “It’s Christmas. Maybe a miracle can happen, just this once. Maybe, after all my years, the universe is looking down upon me kindly.”

   “By presenting you with a pretty girl?”

   “Is she pretty?” he asked innocently, focusing on attaching another strand of tinsel to his left leg to avoid acknowledging the soft blush colouring his cheeks. “Wait until I tell Jenny what you said. Looking at other women, Vastra. I expected better from you.”

   “You’re deflecting.”

   “Clara’s more than her looks, you should be able to see that. And I think you do, to be fair. You’re just trying to get under my skin. But Clara…she looks at the stars with the sort of wonder that I’ve forgotten to uphold. They still shine bright for her. Maybe, through her, they can twinkle again for me too. She’s the sort of person who walks into the most amazing contraption in the universe and asks if it has a kitchen.”

   “She’s exactly the sort of person you needed to get you out of this slump.”

   “Like I said…miracles can happen.”

   “You have to be careful though.”

   The Doctor stopped in his tracks, just when he was about to exit the Tardis with his grip on the boxes tighter than ever. He placed them down slowly, knowing what sort of conversation he was about to have. His smile faded somewhat, his expression not quite a glare but something just as dark and tired.

   “Why?”

   “You’ve already grown attached. She’s made a remarkable impression on you. But that leaves you vulnerable. What might have happened if you’d been unable to catch her in the Tardis after she fell from such a great height? Would you have been able to carry on with yet another burden to carry? Would you have run back to your cloud, never to reemerge again?”

   “The good thing is that we don’t have to think about that. I saved her.”

   “Just as much as she saved you, perhaps.”

   “A very sentimental statement coming from a Silurian.”

   Vastra shrugged. “What can I say? I’ve been influenced by the people I keep around me, by the love I hold dearest. Exactly like you.”

   “I don’t want to be scared anymore,” the Doctor said honestly. “I’ve lost people in the past, obviously I have. That could be enough to make me never risk repeating the same mistake.”

   “But you’re an old, romantic fool…”

   “...who was presented with an unexpected second chance. One day, I might be sad again. It’s the likely outcome. That’s the reality I face. Why, you ask, would I then waste any time in being happy now? The answer, of course, is that I’ll be sad later. I told that to a friend once. It’s about time that I listened to that lesson.”

   Vastra walked towards him, rummaging a hand through the cardboard packages. “And you think hanging up such garish decorations around the house is going to accomplish that?”

   “Why not? Everyone smiles at the star at the top of the tree,” he reasoned.

   “You’ve never been someone to stay just because someone asked to…”

   “I’m allowed to make an exception.”

   “Clara must be really special.”

   “I want to find that out.” He gave Vastra a lopsided grin. “Not to mention that the Old Girl is out of commission for a little while longer yet.” He held up his hands in apology as the Tardis let out a disgruntled series of beeps. “Which I still haven’t apologised enough for yet apparently.”

   “Ah, so there’s not a tiny part of you that secretly wants to stay for Christmas dinner?”

   “Vastra…every fibre of my body wants this! You have to love Christmas! I thought I’d get the entire house ready for when they wake up! To be perfectly honest, I expected the kids to be up by now but the little Daleks are still asleep! Imagine that! Children not waking up early on Christmas morning! There must be something wrong with them.”

   “They did have quite an experience last night. They could be forgiven for needing their rest.”

   The Doctor scoffed. “ Rest ? On Christmas day? You’re a walking, talking reptile from the dawn of time, married to a human woman, with a potato for a servant…and that’s the most nonsensical thing you’ve ever said!”

**********

   Clara stretched out in her bed, wincing as she felt the state her hair was in. Slowly sitting up, wiping the sleep from her eyes, she paused, glancing out the window. Even with the curtains drawn, the snow was evident around the frown, the glass frosty from the cold. She thought back to the night before, when the snow had been the most terrifying thing imaginable. Now it was picturesque and was able to send a paradoxical sense of warmth though her body. Clara stifled a yawn, wondering whether everything she’d experienced had simply been a dream. It was the only logical explanation. And, if that was the case, then, judging by how bright the sun was, she was dreadfully late for her day’s work.

   Not knowing what the Captain would say regarding her tardiness, she rushed out the room, ready to properly present herself as befitted a governess. Her feet skidded to a stop once she’d made it to the landing, barely a few steps from her room. There was a wreath hanging on an old portrait that certainly hadn’t been there when she’d gone to bed. For some reason, she sniffed it, sensing the freshness of the bouquet. Clara hummed in thought, wondering whether her employer had suddenly been struck by the festive season. It was a possibility that was almost as ludicrous as the strange images still floating in her head about snowmen and impossible doctors.

   With a growing smile on her face, Clara spotted that the bannister had been covered in green tinsel and ribbons. The threads continued down the stairs, winding down to the bottom floor. She couldn’t help but follow it, dancing down each step as giddy as a child. She had little regard for her appearance now, forgetting the strict expectations for someone like her. It was Christmas. Rules were meant to be broken on Christmas. Her hand ran down the tinsel as she moved, laughter escaping her lips as she felt its prickly surface. It was magical, that was the word she was looking for. The house hadn’t been this joyous for quite some time.

   And yet it didn't compare to what she found downstairs. Following the trail of decorations, Clara slowly wandered towards the drawing room, where the children’s voices could be heard. Every adornment that caught her eye made her smile grow larger. The main focus had been centred on the room, however. A gorgeous tree wrapped in silver and gold, with a twinkling star that caught the sunlight drifting in through the windows. A model train set running around the room, impossibly traversing the walls without falling off, and what looked like bubbles coming from its chimney. A large pile of neatly wrapped presents that the children were busy exploring whilst still in their pyjamas.

   “Ah, you’re awake!”

   The Doctor was standing there, with Captain Latimer looking relaxed in his high back chair. The impossible Doctor escaping from her dreams once more and smiling at her. He was wearing a different outfit from what she’d last seen him in. The bow tie was still there, sadly. But his long maroon overcoat had been replaced by a tweed jacket that was warmer on the eye. All the consideration of his clothes brought home the startling realisation that, just like her wards, Clara was still in her nightgown. It should have been apparent from the way the Captain was unable to meet her gaze, though the Doctor didn't seem to notice. She tried not to be disappointed at his lack of awareness.

   “You’re…real,” she whispered.

   “Well, of course I am.” The Doctor peered worriedly at her, waving in her face the strange metal device that he kept on him at all times. “Perhaps you banged your head when you landed in the pool. There aren’t any signs of concussion but you can never be too careful.”

   “No but…yesterday…it wasn’t a dream? It actually…happened?” It was like she had to make sure, as if the possibility of it being taken away once she started believing would hurt too much. 

   The Doctor smiled. “Every second of it. It wasn’t inside your head. I know that may seem impossible. But, Clara…the impossible is my neighbourhood. You better get used to it.”

   “I can’t believe you stayed,” she said softly, only now noticing how she was no longer bothering with her ‘posh’ accent. If the Doctor was there, it meant her secret was out. There was no use hiding it from the family. She doubted that she had the job anymore but, looking at the grinning man before her, Clara was coming to the conclusion that she wasn’t going to need it for much longer anyway.

   “A part of me can’t either.”

   “Why did you then?”

   “I’ve already told you that. I only know who . Never why.”

   “Did you do all this?” she asked, looking at the colourful room. It was easier to talk about that than acknowledge the sincere look in his eyes as he gazed at her. 

   “I might have had a few spare hours to fill whilst you slept…”

   “It’s gorgeous.”

   “I do think it’s some of my finest work. Digby and Francesca seem to like it, which is all that matters.”

   “Where did you get all the gifts from?”

   “Don’t you have a cupboard of presents ready for any and every moment? Most of the Tardis’ infinite space is taken up by wrapping paper and baubles.”

   “And trees?”

   “Ah…well…you might notice that there’s a bare stump in the forest next door from where we had to borrow one. And a few others, because Strax got carried away with the axe.”

   “How many more surprises do you have up that sleeve of yours?”

   “You’ll find out.”

   She arched an eyebrow. “Are you suggesting that you’re going to take your clothes off for me?”

   The Doctor sputtered uncontrollably. “No! I was saying that I’m going to show you an incredible number of surprises once the Tardis is up and running!”

   Clara was finding it far too entertaining to wind him up. “Shame. Although the other prospect does sound good, I must admit. Where are you going to take me to?”

   “Wherever you like,” he answered, bopping her on the nose with every word. 

   She smiled up at him, a moment that was just for the two of them. She barely registered the Captain clearing his throat loudly to interrupt them, hoping to grab her attention. It took the patriarch of the family physically walking up to them to break them out of their shared reverie, much to their embarrassment. Clara wasn’t afraid to show the attraction she felt towards the incomprehensible man who was threatening to whisk her away to the stars, but she also didn't want to rub it in the face of Latimer, a person who had made his own feelings perfectly clear during their time together.

   “May I speak with Miss Montague?” he said, already pushing in front of the Doctor.

   The Time Lord looked fairly perturbed but was willing to walk away for the time being. After all, he’d get Clara all to himself so very soon. “Yes, yes. I need to check on the sprouts anyway! I’ve got to make sure that they’ve been thrown out, the awful, green devils that they are.”

   Clara watched him stumble off, accidentally tripping over the train as it shot past, before eventually tearing her gaze away. It took a surprising amount of effort. “How many times must I tell you to call me Clara, Captain Latimer?”

   “At least once more,” the man replied with a small smile. “Although I suspect there will soon be no reason for such formalities between us…”

   “Because you know I have another life away from being a governess, with a different name?”

   “Because, after talking to the Doctor, it seems that you’ll be having yet another life. With…him.” He didn't sound remotely pleased about that.

   “You’ve been talking to him?”

   “Whilst the children opened their presents, yes. It was either him or the green woman. Poor Alice is still in a state of shock.”

   “Do you like to talk about me often?”

   To give him his credit, Latimer didn't appear as shameful as she might have expected. “You’re the most interesting topic I have to discuss, Miss Montague.”

   Clara turned away, gazing at Francesca and Digby. “Perhaps it’s time that you realise there are two people who should hold that title.”

   “They’re going to miss you. As am I. I barely have any idea as to what I’m supposed to do with them. This isn’t…my area of expertise.”

   “It’s Christmas morning…all you have to do is be there with them, enjoying the seasonal spirits. You’ll get the hang of it, I’m sure.”

   “Is there really no way I can persuade you to stay?”

   Clara looked down the hallway, spotting the Doctor shaking every snow globe within reach. “No, I don’t think there is.”

   “All that danger you went through? Your close shave with death? You want to go through that again?”

   “The way I see it, the excitement is worth the peril. Don’t you agree?”

   “I can’t say that I do,” Latimer admitted. “Though I suppose that’s why the Doctor is better suited to you than I ever will be. Someone like you shouldn’t be contained to simply looking after one family. There are hundreds of people out there who could use your assistance.”

   “Thousands,” Clara countered. “And I’ll visit them all. That’s what the Doctor is offering me.”

   “As long as you don’t forget the one you started with.”

   “Never. No matter how far I go, I’ll make sure that I can come back at any time, when you most need me.”

   There was another cough off to one side and Clara could hardly contain her laughter when she spotted Strax standing in the hallway. Over his regular suit, which was an absurd sight to behold as it was, was a floral pinny that Alice normally wore when she was cooking. It clashed horrendously with his skin tone and, judging from the scowl on his face, he wasn’t liking it too much either. 

   “If you would all like to make your way into the dining hall for breakfast,” he announced. “I’ve prepared a full host of meals for you today, since I’m told there is a feast to be expected on Christmas Day. After being informed that it is not, as I’d prefer, an opportunity to feast on the blood of our vanquished foes…I suppose the turkeys I’m roasting will have to do.”

Chapter Text

“She’s ready!”

   In all of Clara’s life, whether that was serving as a barmaid or acting as a governess, no two words had brought such immediate joy. The smile on her face had been instant as she heard the Doctor’s gleeful shouts, and she immediately abandoned her current task (trying, and failing, to untangle a runaway train that had somehow got caught up in the tree). Running through the halls would have been seen as a highly inappropriate act just a mere few days ago, but the magical man’s arrival had made societal expectations so awfully dull. And if Captain Latimer wished to relieve her of her duties for her blatant impropriety, not that she believed he’d ever willingly get rid of her, then Clara would gladly inform him that she now had a much more exciting prospect to attend to.

   Not that she wanted the Doctor to see just how eager she was, as if that would make him revoke his invitation, but her bags had been packed ever since Christmas day. It wasn’t like she had many belongings to consider, but it was best to be prepared. Clara could tell that the Doctor was the sort of man who could disappear in an instant, and she wasn’t going to let that happen. Which was why her two travel bags had been plonked on the gravel driveway outside, Clara standing attentively between them. She wasn’t quite bouncing with giddy energy, but the thought of all the adventures ahead of her had the governess fidgeting anxiously.

   The sight of the blue box right in front of her was enough to assuage any fears she had about the Doctor leaving her behind. It was an absurd notion (hadn’t he given her a key twice already?) but one that she couldn’t shake until she was inside the impossible machine. Waiting for the man to show himself, Clara found herself sniffing her red dress, even though she’d been sure to wash it herself. What would he think when he saw her dressed in the same clothes? Was he the sort of man to notice such a thing? Was she coming up with minute problems because she believed this couldn’t actually be happening? Clara was only able to answer one of those questions with absolute surety, but it wasn’t as if that was going to make her mind cooperate to a greater extent.

   Tapping her foot impatiently, Clara considered marching up to the Tardis and heading inside without an invitation. If she had a key, wasn’t she allowed to do that? The Doctor had implied that the ship in its current state was fairly dangerous, with its energy reserves low, but she was sure that he was just saying that to keep her slightly intimidated. He evidently wanted some of the grand mystery to remain between the two of them. Clara wasn’t the sort to be perturbed by a little bit of danger, and she wasn’t usually someone who was good at waiting around for something to happen. It was why she had raced after the Doctor’s carriage after their first encounter after all. Seizing the day was her speciality.

   And yet, not that she would say this out loud, Clara had to admit that there was an element of fear sitting deep in her stomach. The sort of anxiousness that you couldn’t get rid of, that made your insides all funny and made it feel like you hadn’t eaten in the entirety of your life. This was it. That was the crux of the matter. She was beginning a new life as soon as she stepped foot within the sanctuary of the box. It was only logical for someone to be nervous when faced with such a momentous occasion. Was she bigging it up too much in her head? Clara didn't think so.

   She looked up towards the sky. Compared to when she’d danced amongst the clouds, it was much brighter, a clear winter’s day. The stars weren’t currently visible but she knew they were there, just out of reach for the time being. Would this be the last time she looked at the same sky? Even if she came back, which she was sure she would do, then she’d never be able to view it in the same way again. That was the exciting part, the thought of her eyes being properly opened to the unexplainable wonders that she’d never thought possible. Frightening, of course, to think how much she might be changed by such an experience. But exciting all the same.

   The doors opened and the Doctor popped out his head to look at her. He frowned, which wasn’t the reaction Clara had been hoping to receive. His strange behaviour served as a reminder that she still didn't truly know who he was, and she reckoned she never would get all the answers. Here was a man she was running off with, a man she had kissed quite passionately (it still made her lips tingle when she thought about it), and she didn't know a single thing about him. Maybe she was just perturbed by the frown, as if she expected him to be overjoyed by her presence just because they’d shared one intimate moment, a sort of youthful naivety that Clara thought she’d grown out of. But then he grinned, that roguish, boyish smirk of his, and those concerns washed away. 

   “I thought I told you that there was no need to bring any bags!” he complained, his boots crunching against the stony ground. “You don’t need clothes! There’s a gigantic wardrobe that has the perfect outfit for every occasion.”

   Clara smirked as she took in the man’s appearance. He was in the tweed jacket again that she’d found him in on Christmas morning. Her worries about sporting the same dress were rightly abated. As she examined the finer details, such as the bright red braces hidden by the jacket but made to stand out by the white shirt underneath and the blue bow tie that had been meticulously positioned, Clara doubted that any wardrobe he owned was the type she wanted to use. She’d never seen anyone dress so absurdly, and yet he wore it with a brazen confidence that almost convinced any onlooker that it was normal. Almost. 

   “I think I’d better stick with what I’ve got based on your dress sense,” she remarked playfully.

   The Doctor placed a protective hand over his tie. “What are you trying to say?”

   “Do all aliens dress like that?”

   “Not even remotely.”

   “You say that with pride. I can see it written all over your face.”

   “I’m not trying to hide it. I’ve curated the most amazing ensemble ever known in the fashion world. I’ll blame your Victorian upbringing for not understanding the merits of my jacket. I’ve got thirty-seven pockets all over my body. How many do you have?”

   “I’m in a dress. None.”

   He quirked an eyebrow. “Exactly. Who’s the fool now?”

   Clara put her hands on her hips. “Do you want me to answer that?”

   The Doctor’s smile fell. “Probably not.”

   “Are you saying that everyone in the future dresses like you? Is that what society has to look forward to?”

   “...I can’t say that they do, but I’m working on my ability as an influencer. Give it time.”

   “That’s a relief. I was worried about what madness the world had to offer for you to fit in.”

   “Trust me…things are going to be even more insane than little old me.”

   “Is that a promise?”

   “The only one I can make.”

   Clara was more intrigued than ever. “Are you from the future?”

   “It’s complicated,” he answered, pulling at his collar. “I’m from the past, present and future depending on which you look at it.”

   “Can we go there?”

   The Doctor was momentarily puzzled. “Where?”

   “The past! The future! Is that possible?”

   “I already told you that the Tardis travels through time. You can go wherever and whenever you like. You just have to ask.”

   “I thought you just might have been boasting about that. Making it up to impress me. After all, I haven’t really seen it do anything yet.” Clara scrutinised the ship, knowing that it was making him sweat. “I’ve dealt with a lot of men in my time who try to fashion themselves as something they’re not in the hope of getting a smile from me, and I’ve kicked each and every one of them onto the curb.”

   “You followed me though,” the Doctor pointed out. It was said with an essence of smugness, as if it made him important or better than everyone else. If he believed that just from her opinion, then Clara was going to take it as a compliment.

   “You seemed different to other men. I had to find out.”

   “Come to any conclusions yet?”

   “I’m still fifty-fifty on that front.”

   “Hey!” He sounded rightfully insulted, the cocky smile now firmly removed from his face. She had to keep him on his toes, never letting him have the upperhand. “Keep pushing your luck like that and I’ll have to leave you behind.”

   She watched him slowly edge towards the Tardis, taking dramatic steps to accentuate his threat. “You wouldn’t dare!”

   “My Tardis, my rules.”

   “If I come with you, that’s definitely going to change.”

   He hesitated. “If? Having a change of heart?” She was surprised at how glum he sounded by the prospect, as if he was just as excited about this new adventure as she was. 

   “You’re the one threatening to pull the rug from under me. Or was it just an empty threat to scare me? To force me to say how much I want this? Is this some sort of power play? Because that ain’t how it’s going to work.”

   The Doctor smiled, leaning against the wooden frame. It was a smile that only someone of a certain age could wear, weighed down by many years. “Like you said: I wouldn’t dare leave you behind. Not now.”

   “Then I think we’ve reached an agreement.” She held out her hand formally, noticing him looking at it in a perplexed fashion. “What? This is how all deals are struck, aren’t they? Between the high and mighty of society, behind closed doors. I think they call it a gentleman’s agreement, though I’ve always seen that as needlessly exclusionary. I’m going to make it my own, I reckon.”

   “What am I agreeing to?”

   Was it another test he was posing to her? Or was he simply curious about her answer? Clara made sure to give it some thought, wanting to impress him. She’d gone through life never needing to leave a mark on someone, and yet the Doctor had stumbled past her and now all she wanted was for him to think the best of her.

   “...shake my hand and you’re agreeing to give me the best possible adventure. Full of excitement, wonder, beauty…and a heavy dose of danger.”

   “And you’ll laugh at all my jokes in return?”

   “I think we both know that that’s a step too far.”

   The Doctor nodded his head. “Very true.” He grasped her hand tightly, bringing their arms up and down with comical theatrics. “Welcome aboard, Clara Oswald.”

   Without thinking too much about it, she let go of his hand and chose to hug him instead, jumping up to catch him unawares. The Doctor just about managed to support her slender frame, thanks to the Tardis being right behind him for him to fall back on. She was sure that she heard the box let out a disgruntled thrum at their behaviour, which only served to incite her to make the embrace last longer. The temptation was palpable to kiss him once again, but Clara chose to leave that for a later date. Let him impress her first. Let him earn it.

   “Is she ready then? The Tardis? Can we leave?”

   He patted the white sign that instructed them to pull the doors open, though Clara was adamant that he pushed them from what she’d seen. “Fully recovered from her little tantrum.” Another beep in annoyance, louder this time. “As justified as it was. You give me the word and we’ll be on our way.”

   “What word?”

   He didn't even pause. “ Geronimo .”

   “I’m nervous,” Clara admitted all of a sudden.

   “Perfectly understandable. But I’ll be there, every step of the way, to make sure you don’t fall.”

   “Like when you caught me after the ice woman…”

   She felt his warm hand over hers. “Precisely. And we don’t need to think about what might have happened if I hadn’t been there ever again, okay? You’re safe. This is happening. It’s not a dream, Clara.”

   “It feels like one.”

   “The best moments in life always do.” He nodded his head back towards the house. “Do you need to say any goodbyes?”

   Clara shook her head. “Nah. If I went back inside, Captain Latimer would persist in trying to convince me to stay, and the children would continue crying just after I succeeded in making them stop. They don’t fully understand why I’m doing this. To be honest…if I think about it long enough, it doesn’t make much sense to me either.”

   “All the greatest decisions are like that, mark my words.”

   “And what about your friends? Are they not waving you off?”

   “I’ve never been one for goodbyes.” The Doctor looked distinctly uncomfortable about the topic. “And they’ll know that I’ll be back in no time.”

   “To sulk on your cloud?”

   “Not if I’ve got you by my side.”

   He nudged open the doors with his shoulder nonchalantly, quickly hurrying inside and racing over the metal walkway. Clara mumbled under her breath about how a gentleman might have offered to take her bags for her, but the Doctor was too busy putting on a performance to hear her. She wouldn’t have accepted his help, of course, because she didn't need any man to do a job on her behalf, but it might have been nice to be asked . It was just another example of how the Doctor was completely different to what she was used to. She pictured him next to the captain and couldn’t quite believe how diametrically opposed two people could be.

   She was much slower in entering the Tardis than her new travelling companion, taking in the interior just as much as when she’d first stepped inside. It was obviously the same, with its sleek design and unexpected warmth. Clara expected such a contraption to be as cold as the metal it was seemingly constructed from, but there was something tucked away that made it feel alive. Without having to worry about a frozen monster chasing after them, she was able to enjoy the experience even more. The place hummed with possibility and that was the sort of place she wanted to be in.

   “How does it work?” Clara asked, coming to stand by the Doctor’s side. “Is there an engine? Is it powered by steam? I mean, I didn't see a chimney but you also can’t see any of this from the outside, so it’s not as stupid a question as your face is making it seem.”

   “Steam?” the Doctor blurted out with a laugh. “Now that is a new one. You’re very good at coming up with unexpected questions, I’ll give you that.”

   “I’ve always been praised for my inquisitive mind, although it’s gotten me into trouble equally as much.” She nudged him. “So? How does it work? How does it travel through time?”

   “I can’t give away all the secrets on your first day. Otherwise what else would I entertain and enthral you with?”

   “Is that a way of saying that you don’t know? Because it’s alright if you don’t. I won’t think any less of you.”

   “Of course I know! It channels a substance called artron energy so that it can enter the Time Vortex, riding it like a wave until it reaches its destination. My people…the Time Lords…they figured out how to traverse the Vortex, controlling it for themselves. Maybe they do it with a lot less bumps along the way, but my method is definitely more exciting.”

   “Thanks for answering,” she said with a smirk, making him realise that he’d blurted out all of the information just because his ego had been under threat. “I got two tidbits of detail for the price of one. You call yourself a Time Lord? Is that supposed to be a purposefully pretentious title? Or does it take someone like me to point it out to you?”

   “I’ve suggested other alternatives but they never listened.”

   “Do Time Lords live amongst the stars? Do they have their own earth?”

   His face fell. “Something like that.”

   “Did I say something wrong?” Had she blown the opportunity already? That must have been a record.

   “No, no.” The Doctor focused on fiddling with an array of buttons. “Just a sore subject, that’s all.”

   “Is that why you were hiding away on a cloud?”

   “Do you have to keep bringing that up?”

   “Only until I know the reasoning behind it.”

   “No, they’re not the cause of my extended leave of absence. I am allowed to take a break from time to time.”

   Clara looked around the console room. “That doesn’t make any sense to me. Because how could anyone grow bored of this ? You have everything at the tip of your fingers. It raises one major point…”

   “Which is?”

   “How much were you hurt by something that you could possibly consider giving this up?”

   “Well…” He looked like he was growing increasingly frustrated about how intuitive she could be. He would have to get used to it. “...that’s a story for another time. This is supposed to be a happy occasion! The start of a brand new story!”

   “You do realise that I won’t give up that easily? I will keep asking, no matter where we go, no matter where you take me.”

   “I don’t doubt you for a second, Clara Oswald. But come on…everything at your fingertips…for the first time. You’re never getting this moment back. I pull this lever and everything changes, no going back. You can forget cleaning glasses and picking up after children…”

   “...I think you might be getting children and dogs mixed up, Doctor,” Clara interrupted.

   “Easy mistake. Can’t blame me for getting confused when I’m so excited.”

   “Is it always like this? Before you set off? Do you always get this…tingle?”

   “I’ll only retire once that feeling’s gone. Hold onto that sensation, Clara. Because it’s never going to leave you. What do you say?”

   Clara didn't hesitate. “Geronimo.”

Chapter Text

The sound the Tardis made. It brought hope to all who heard it. In the darkest of times, its arrival signified that light was about to return. When people reached their lowest points, they would dream about that sound and cling onto the belief that it would one day enter their lives. And, when they were old and grey, they would tell their children and grandchildren about the time the blue box appeared. It never stayed for long, it never hung around, but it always left its mark. And the stories would continue, passing through each and every generation until the sound became a legend. A legend that most people fathomed was nothing more than a grand tale to illuminate the dark.

   Clara Oswald knew none of that. She just knew that the sound of the Tardis made her as giddy as a child.

   Once the Doctor pulled down the lever to set them on their way, she had watched the central column move up and down in abject fascination. A smile graced her lips as she observed the action, something that the Doctor completely ignored, so used to it he was by now. Clara couldn’t understand how anyone could be bored of such a wonder, hoping that the marvel she looked at it with now never dimmed. She barely had the knowledge to understand what it was or how it worked, but could still appreciate what it signified. 

   Adventure. 

   Exploration.

   The implausibility of life.

   Clara doubted that, for as long as she remained in the Tardis, she would ever stop smiling. Whilst the ship began to take off, she placed her hand against the column, having to reach on her tiptoes to actually be able to touch it. Her small frame and the angled obstruction of the console weren’t working in her favour, and yet she wasn’t one to give up. She felt the ends of her fingers tingle as the column thrummed, observing how the teal light flashed over her digits as it moved. For a moment, she believed she was connected to the impossible ship. For a time, she believed she’d never been anywhere else besides standing on the precipice of time.

   Her childlike wonder refusing to fade, she lowered herself back onto the soles of her feet. It gave her a better vantage point to admire the myriad buttons and switches on the console, her hands dragging over them lazily whilst being careful not to properly touch any. The Doctor seemed quite protective of the system and, even now, Clara could feel his watchful gaze upon her like a teacher, watching his pupil figure out a particularly quarrelsome equation. A particularly quarrelsome equation that could cause a massive explosion if she made one wrong move, or so he claimed to keep her suitably reverent.

   She didn't know why but, instead of her hands, she chose to place her cheek against the metallic surface of the console. Then again, she didn't know much of anything that was happening around her. It was an unexpectedly cold sensation, as if she had expected it to somehow be warm. Clara giggled softly, closing her eyes to fully appreciate what she was feeling. She didn't care whether the Doctor was watching her or judging her behaviour. She was allowed to be amazed. She just needed to get it out of her system and then she would be able to throw herself into whatever lay beyond those wooden doors. Perhaps that was why the Doctor could walk past the inexplicable console with nary a passing glance, because he’d gone through this very reaction a long time ago. Another laugh escaped her lips as she pictured the handsome man doing as she was, placing his head on the console. His square jaw might have matched the angles of the machine. Another laugh, and Clara knew that each unexplained snigger was a question that the Doctor wanted to ask.

   Forgetting about him for just a second, she tried to rationalise what she was feeling. With her face pressed against the cool metal, she was able to experience the same thrumming as she’d felt within the rising and falling column. But surely that was impossible. How could such a machine be connected so tangibly? How could something so large work in tandem as if it were a whole? Clara vowed there and then to one day understand how it was feasible, no matter how long it took. She could gape in awe at the Tardis for years, she was sure of it. As long as the Doctor was willing to keep her for that long. Or for as long as she was willing to keep him.

   Much to her disappointment, and before she was ready, the steady rocking of the Tardis came to an abrupt stop. Clara lifted her head, her face marred by a frustrated scowl. She’d grown to enjoy the sensation. Not caring whether her hair was now a mess from her investigations, she stomped over to the Doctor, hands upon her hips. He was standing by the same lever he’d pulled barely a few minutes before, a soft smile greeting his new companion. He didn't seem to be expecting such a negative response, but she was fully prepared to give him one.

   “What did you do?”

   “What do you mean?” the Doctor responded after a brief pause where his mouth had opened and closed without any noise escaping. It sent a surge of thrilled power through Clara to know that she could leave such a powerful man so unsteady after just one sentence.

   “I happened to be enjoying that!”

   He scratched his head, floppy hair moving obediently. “Enjoying what?”

   “The Tardis moving about. Did I ask you to make it stop?”

   “Well…no…but I thought…”

   “Exactly, so if you could get it to start again, I’d be much obliged.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Ugh, you made the mistake most clever men fail to avoid, and that’s deining to think when no one asked them to.”

   “You wanted to be taken on your first trip!” the Doctor argued, finally finding some sense after the surprise knockback.

   “That I can accept. But we were only moving for a minute, maybe even less. I’d say that was a pretty poor trip. I reckon we’ll have barely reached market street at this rate. And that’s somewhere I’m quite bored of going.”

   “Clara…I don’t think you’re quite understanding…the Tardis, you see…”

   “Are you going to underestimate my knowledge just because I’m young and a woman? Because that’s another fatal error that clever men tend to make, so I’d advise you to choose your next words carefully.”

   “Frankly, if you could understand any of this on your first go, it would amaze me more than anything I’ve ever seen. And I’ve seen a lot of things!”

   “Were those truly the most careful words you could have chosen?”

   “Probably not,” he admitted bashfully.

   “Are you going to take them back?”

   “We’re here, Clara.” There was a giddy look to his face now, just like the expression she’d been wearing herself moments ago. She started to understand that he’d never grown out of that phase after all, instead learning to mask it until it became unbearable. “The engines stopped because we’ve arrived.”

   “That’s not…possible,” she breathed in disbelief. “We were only outside the manor just now.” And yet it already felt like a lifetime.

   “You’re going to have to learn that the Tardis defies most logic.” He slapped his hand against the console triumphantly, smirking as the machine chirped in response. “It travels through time, don’t forget. That comes with certain perks. You could move from one end of the cosmos to the other in a matter of seconds, and not even get travel sick. Well, I’ve had a few people need a bucket and mop after their first go.” He looked at her warily. “You’re not going to do that, are you? Because the Tardis is quick to go off a person whenever that happens.”

   Clara placed a tentative hand on her stomach as she considered the journey she’d just been on. “I don’t think so…but now you’ve said it, it’s like my body is forcing me to react in a certain way, as if it’s expected.”

   “I should have realised by now that I should never open my mouth.”

   “If you’re getting the hang of that lesson after I’ve been here for two minutes, then I reckon this partnership is going to work out swimmingly.”

   “You really think so?” the Doctor asked, almost shyly, like a school child making the first few steps towards talking to their crush.

   “Maybe this feeling in my stomach is just adrenaline,” she suggested. “And nerves. Definitely nerves.”

   “As long as you’re not going to be sick. Because you’d have to clean up yourself, I’m afraid. There are dark corners of the universe that I’d willingly face without much fuss, but that’s a chore I can do without.”

   “Are you rambling to give me enough time to prepare myself for whatever’s waiting for us outside?”

   “How could you tell?”

   “Because you were making less sense than normal, and I didn't think that was at all possible until just now.”

   “Caught me red-handed!” He didn't sound guilty in the slightest. “Are you ready to be amazed yet?”

   “How am I supposed to answer that?”

   “With a yes?”

   “I don’t have a clue what’s out there…”

   “I know,” he replied excitedly.

   “Are you not going to tell me where we are?”

   “Why would I do that? It’d ruin all the fun.”

   “I shouldn’t be scared…but I’m not ashamed to say that I am.”

   The Doctor looked at her curiously, taking her hands in his own. “Those are just the nerves telling you that this is important. You’re about to glimpse the universe properly for the first time.”

   “The strange thing is…that I’m still not sure whether any of this is real. I’m most frightened of opening those doors and discovering we never left in the first place. I’ll stumble out from the box, find myself back in my life as a governess, and the prospect of all this will have disappeared in an instant. I don’t think I’d recover from the disappointment.”

   “It’d be a lot of effort to go through for a prank.”

   “You need to work on your skills of reassurance because I definitely think it’s a prank now.” 

   Clara could feel her chest rising and falling rapidly, exactly like the machine she’d been so amazed by. Surely someone couldn’t create this with the sole purpose of messing with her. Had she done anything to deserve such a cruel twist of fate? There was that one man she’d accidentally spilt a couple of drinks over in the Rose and Crown, though that had been just as much his fault as it had been hers. Not to mention that he’d received a fresh drink free of charge. And he wasn’t the sort of bloke who looked like he had the imagination nor the skill to create such a wonderful contraption. It wasn’t logical to see this as some sort of scheme, and yet logic had been thrown out the window as soon as she’d danced amongst the clouds.

   The Doctor squeezed her hands more tightly, looking at her with such care and attention that he needn’t say anything else, because no one could fabricate as sincere an expression. Clara could have gotten lost in that gaze forever, perhaps more magical than her surroundings. Why care about where she’d been taken when she had that in front of her? It must have been some sort of power of his to comfort someone else with unfathomable ease, as if questioning his reassurances had forced him to use the full potency of his skill. For a second, the childish showman was long gone, replaced by the friend she needed most of all.

   “Trust me, Clara.” His voice was soft, yet somehow still commanding and strong. “This is real. What you’re about to see is mad and bonkers…but all too real. And, more importantly, you deserve the chance to see it. No one’s going to take that away from you. A woman made of ice tried, but even she wasn’t able to stop this from happening.”

   “Tell me,” she whispered.

   “Tell you what? Where we are?” The Doctor shuffled awkwardly, as if he were weighing up his choices. “Like I said, it’d be better for you to see this with fresh eyes…”

   “No, you daft old man. Tell me what it was like when you first glimpsed the universe.”

   “That’s a very long time ago.”

   “I never was too interested in history, but I’m sensing that might have changed.”

   “It’s different for me. Where I grew up…the universe was basically right next door,” he explained, his eyes growing old with the memories. “As a kid, I knew I would be able to explore the solar systems one day, once I completed my training.”

   “I don’t care about what was expected of you, Doctor. Tell me, from the heart…how did you feel?”

   “I ran away. I stole this box because I couldn’t be bothered waiting around anymore, and I ran away. And the first time I opened the doors…finally free…I suppose I was very much like you. Terrified of the possibility that I’d made the wrong choice. Petrified that it’d come to an end before I was ready to let go. And unbelievably excited to see what the future had in store.”

   “Is it that clear to see that I’m feeling all that and more?”

   “I’m getting used to reading your eyes, Clara. They betray that warring mind of yours.”

   “You’ve barely known me a week and claim to have this knowledge of me…”

   “I’m just that good,” he said in way of an explanation.

   She laughed lightly, and it felt good to do so after her nerves had gotten the best of her. “I think I’m ready now.”

   He didn't need more of an invitation, running towards the doors whilst still clutching one of her hands, meaning she was dragged along for the ride. It was a short journey that was just as bumpy as the one conducted by the Tardis, and all the more exciting. His free fingers latched around the knob, pausing slightly. The Doctor looked at Clara, as if to silently ask whether she was properly prepared. Her large smile was answer enough, almost willing to open the doors herself if he waited any longer.

   She froze at what stood before them. She’d practically been ready to step outside, though she was glad she’d chosen to hesitate on that front. They were surrounded by darkness, a black void that seemed to go on forever. It would have felt empty if it hadn’t been for the twinkling lights in the distance, and the huge roaring fire that blazed closer by. There was a giant rock spinning gently right in front of them and, every so often, it flashed with vibrant colours that belied its mundane appearance. Not that Clara could see any of this as boring, stretching out her hand, tempted to reach and touch…the nothingness. It was cold and she only reached further because of the Doctor’s nod of encouragement. 

   “I thought you should see what space is like up close,” he told her.

   Clara glanced up at him, before her gaze returned to the dazzling scene. She refused to look away for long, lest it disappeared. “This is what I see at night? The moon and the stars, so very far away.”

   “Well…not strictly speaking. This is a few hundred thousand miles away from Earth.”

   “You’re having me on!” she protested, her accent becoming more pronounced in her incredulity.

   “I am not ! This is called the Venusta Saxum…literally the rock of colour. Some people really don’t have a great imagination.”

   “How does it do that? It’s almost like a kaleidoscope, and then it returns to normal.”

   “There’s nothing else around for miles upon miles. It’s just these two. The asteroid and the star, bound together. A few hundred years ago, the asteroid got caught in the star’s gravitational pull, and it hasn’t been let go since. From that point on, it’s been spinning around its only companion constantly. It contains a specific metal ore that, when the star flashes in a certain way, reflects the different colours you’re seeing. It’s the only place this happens…the perfect conditions that couldn’t be replicated anywhere else by nature. One day, the orbit of the asteroid will get too close to the star and it’ll be destroyed by the proximity…but for now, it’s just the two of them, dancing amongst space for as long as possible.”

   “It’s beautiful,” Clara whispered.

   The Doctor was looking at her, not that she noticed. He was watching the dancing colours through her eyes, admiring the way they sparkled in her pupils. The best way of seeing the universe was through the eyes of someone new to it. That was how it never got boring. He would have flown past Venusta Saxum on most days of the week, forgetting its impossible majesty. Looking at Clara and her amazement, he doubted he would ever forget it again.

   “It’s magical,” she added, feeling as if mere words couldn’t do it justice.

   “Technically speaking, there is logical science behind its presence…” He noticed her give him a sharp glare. “...but I suppose those explanations can wait another time. For now, we can bask in the magic.”

   “It’s a bit like us, don’t you think?”

   The Doctor was puzzled by the comment. “How so?”

   “Well…” Clara was suddenly nervous, realising she’d said that thought out loud. “...say I’m the rock and you’re the star. I got caught in your pull, and now we get to explore space together. Just the two of us. Not needing anyone else. I reckon that’s a sort of magic in itself.”

   The Doctor smiled sadly, trying not to think of what might happen if the orbit became too strong and she got too close. “You might be right about that.”

   “Although, if I start glowing strange colours, will you warn me?”

   “I can’t promise anything.”

   Clara risked resting her head against his shoulder. “I could get used to this.”

   “And this is just the beginning, Clara. Where to next?”

   She looked at him, scandalised. “We only just got here!”

   “There’s so much more to see though! This is just a taster, the starter of the meal. Come on…I’ll even let you decide. You’ve seen space. What about time? Past or future, Miss Oswald?”

   She gave it some thought. “Anytime in the past?”

   “Yup.” He popped the ‘p’ sound.

   “Like the dinosaurs?”

   “You’d be surprised at how many times I’ve run into them.”

   “And anytime in the future?”

   “Also yup.” Another pop.”

   “You mentioned before how excited you were at what the future held. You said that you knew that’s exactly how I was feeling. Then show me. Show me what’s in store in the future, and then I’ll tell you if you were right. If your ego needs any more of a boost.”

Chapter Text

 “Come on, Clara! We don’t have all day!”

   “I thought this contraption was a time machine? From my reckoning, that means we do have all day.”

   The Doctor put his hands on his hips, not that his latest companion could see his disgruntlement. “I didn't choose to let you inside the Tardis so you could point out my mistakes.”

   He wasn’t used to this. It had been a very long time since he’d been forced to accommodate someone else in his life. When he’d been on his own, if one discounted that period on the cloud (a time he was hoping was scratched from the record books), he’d been able to shoot off whenever he pleased, venturing to whatever place took his or the Tardis’ fancy. But now he was standing in one of the many corridors of his ship, whilst Clara faffed about in the room next door, with no other option but to wait. And the worst part was the fact that he was technically responsible, even though he wasn’t going to accept any portion of the blame. He was too annoyed to listen to logic. 

   “So you chose me, huh?” Clara’s disembodied voice drifted over, a playful song on his ears. “Here I was, thinking that I chose you. It’s funny how different our perspectives can be.”

   Did he have the right to be annoyed though? It was a point that had the Doctor pondering his myriad thoughts. The last time he’d been in this sort of situation, it had been when Amy wanted some downtime in between adventures, a concept that the Time Lord didn't understand in the slightest. He’d been lucky enough to find someone who could potentially fill that gaping hole in his life. Did that mean he was no longer able to complain about the downsides? And was it really a downside, when all he was doing was talking to a pretty woman who had supposedly chosen to travel with him? Not that she was pretty. No, definitely not. That was the sort of thought he certainly needed to get out of his head, making him focus on his unjustified disgruntlement instead.

   “Maybe I should just stop talking, because it’s evidently slowing you down even further. If that’s even possible!” He raised his voice for the last part, hoping he could convince her that he was truly annoyed. He doubted it was going to work.

   “You sound like a petulant child, Doctor. I expected you to be wise and civilised, an explorer of other dimensions. Instead, I’m left with you whinging at me, when this was your idea in the first place!”

   “It’s not my fault if you came into this with overly high estimations of my character. You’re definitely the first person in a very long time to ever consider me being wise. You’re going to have to get used to this if you’re sticking around, although there will be changes. Because I hate waiting around.”

   “It’s almost as if you’re trying to convince me to go back. I’m trying not to be insulted.”

   “I bet you didn't make Captain Latimer wait this long. Or the kids! What about all your thirsty patrons at the pub? I’d even take being there instead of standing here right now, and I don’t even drink beer!”

   “You’re quite possibly the first man I’ve heard refuse the tantalising grasp of alcohol. It’s refreshing.”

   “Beer isn’t. It’s all…tangy and bitter.” He stuck out his tongue, making a ‘bleugh’ sound at the memory of the only time he’d made the mistake of drinking it.”

   “I’m no longer talking about beer, Doctor. I had enough of that at the Rose and Crown. You’re showing me wonders that dwarf serving pints, not that it’s difficult.”

   “I could be showing you wonders right now if you hurried up.”

   “Patience, dear Doctor. It’s not as if I know what I’m doing here. As for making the Captain and his children wait…well, of course I wouldn’t. Because they were paying me. It was a job. But you’re a hobby, a keen interest of mine. Part of that includes poking you incessantly to see if you inevitably explode.”

   The Doctor closed his eyes and rested his head against the wall. “If you’re struggling to find something appropriate, I could help. I didn't even stop to think that you’d have no idea what’s actually in fashion.”

   Once again, the old alien had to remind himself that this had all come as a result of him opening his stupid mouth. He’d promised Clara the future, and was incredibly excited to show her exactly that. But then he’d looked at her appearance (something the Doctor definitely hadn’t been doing fairly frequently) and had come to the realisation that she’d stick out like a sore thumb. It wasn’t something that he’d been forced to consider for quite a while, mainly because he’d been stuck in one place for so very long. But it had also been some time since he’d travelled with someone from the past , a period of time that didn't have any true relevance to a wanderer like him, but the locals would likely pick up on it straight away.

   So, off they’d gone to the massive wardrobe hidden away in the Tardis, a room he didn't visit as often as he should have.   

   The more time that ticked by, the more he remembered why he avoided it, because it was so large that it was difficult not to get distracted for aeons by all the wonderful and varied outfits. The more time that ticked by, the more he was starting to wish that he’d told her to stick with the big, flowy dress he’d seen her in the first time they’d bumped into one another. That was a nice dress. And her hair had been large and curly, which he supposed were good traits to have when it came to hair. It was a silly notion to have her change her outfit, when he’d never asked the same for his former friends when they’d rushed into the future. A lot of them did like to play dress-up whenever they went backwards in time, but that was a whole different kettle of fish. 

   “Did you just offer to help me dress myself, Doctor?” Her voice carried a heavy dose of mirth, as well as a hint of intrigue.

   Even without Clara standing right next to him, the Time Lord blushed profusely. He scanned over his last words and realised with despair just what it sounded like. He hit himself on the forehead, needlessly adding to his already growing pain. When had he become so adept at putting his foot in his mouth? Perhaps he’d always been like this, and he’d simply forgotten over the years of loneliness. The Doctor pinned his apparent awkwardness on the fact that he’d been on his own for so long, rather than his subconscious thoughts about the woman currently dressing a few metres away finally betraying him. 

   “I don’t think that’s what I did,” he returned lamely.

   “You don’t think ? So you’re still debating the merits of the choice?”

   “Stop twisting my words!”

   “You’re the one saying them. I can’t help the way they sound.”

   “If I was a betting man, I’d hazard a guess that you’re purposefully looking for hidden meanings behind my words, as if you secretly want me to mean what you’re suggesting.” He was getting twisted in this hypothetical web of motives.

   “There’s nothing secret about it. You’re a very good kisser.”

   For a second time in quick succession, he blushed and was second guessing the decision to ever bring someone onboard again. On his cloud, he’d never blushed, he’d never felt an embarrassing warmth flood his cheeks. Not once. It seemed to be happening fairly regularly around Clara. The memory of their kiss, shared amidst a life or death situation, the two of them unexpectedly alone in an empty corridor, was one that kept resurfacing. And it didn't help that she was so willing to bring it up repeatedly, as if she knew just how much it messed with him. Time Lords were supposed to be above such trivial matters like attraction and lust , but the Time Lords had obviously never experienced Clara Oswald throwing herself at them. It was enough to make a man stronger than him break every rule society had to offer. 

   “And, to think, you caught me unawares. You didn't get me remotely at my best,” the Doctor countered, deciding to play their little game at least once.

   “Is that you promising there’s going to be a next time?”

   He straightened his bow tie just to give his hands something to do. “It depends if you launch yourself at me again.”

   “You say it as if it was a bad thing. As if I’m some sort of uncontrollable force.”

   “That’s actually a pretty apt way of describing you from what I’ve seen.”

   “I think I’ll take that as a compliment, for your own well-being.”

   “Does all this talking mean you’re close to being ready?” he asked, hoping they could get to safer territory. Both his hearts were racing, surely putting him on the brink of an accidental regeneration. Not that many regenerations were purposeful.

   “I’ve been dressed for a good few minutes.”

   His eyes went wide. “What?!”

   “I was curious to see how long you’d last before racing in here. Sadly, my cunning plan didn't work out.”

   “You’re delaying your first steps into the future, Clara! This is what you’ve always wanted! This is what dreams are made of!”

   “I’ve barely ever had a friend or someone in my life who I can taunt and tease as freely as I wish. Within a few days of knowing one another, I feel as if I’m getting that with you. That’s just as much of a dream as anything waiting outside the doors. Society back home is so rigid and full of pointless expectations, never allowing any space for fun. That’s what I want, Doctor. Fun. Can you provide that?”

   “It’s what I’ve been offering from the very start!”

   “Then I suppose I can come out now.”

   Clara appeared from her hiding place, smiling at him shyly, but he frowned almost instantly. “No.”

   “What do you mean, no?”

   “Exactly that. No. You need something else.”

   It was his fault. Again. He’d given her free rein within the Tardis wardrobe without giving her any tips on what people tended to wear where they were going. Her choice couldn’t have been further from what he’d been expecting. Whilst her hair was in the same style as before, flowing wildly past her shoulders, that was where the similarities ended. The red dress had been swapped with a horrendously garish green jumper that was two sizes too big for her, sporting a high ridged collar that obscured most of her face. The pants were just as absurd, multicoloured polka-dots decorating the tight black material. She’d finished the ensemble with a surprisingly appropriate pair of trainers, potentially a decade out of date for what he was planning, and a tiny fascinator on top of her head that was pretty much lost amongst her curls.

   It all made him wonder when he’d ever added this to his expansive collection.

   “This seemed to be calling my name,” she said in a way of explanation.

   “It was more likely screaming at you to run away from it. It’s hideous. And that’s coming from me.”

   “What do people wear then? If you’re so bothered.”

   “Just…normal clothes! Find a nice, normal dress. Or a t-shirt! T-shirts are good. T-shirts are a safe bet.”

   “What’s a t-shirt?”

   The Doctor dragged a hand over his face. “It’s like a shirt…but softer? I think that’s the only way I can describe it.”

   “And women wear these as well as men?”

   “All the time.”

   “Without repercussions or people whispering about the amount of skin they’ve got on show?”

   “You’ve got a lot to learn about the way society changes over the years. But that’s fine. That’s not your fault. It’s my job to teach you all about these things, and I’m very much looking forward to that task. As long as you wear something else. Anything else.”

   He should have been more specific. How many more mistakes was he going to make over one day alone? He was filling his quota for the month, potentially the next decade. The Doctor watched as Clara disappeared once more, resigning himself to at least five more minutes of misery. If only he’d been so lucky. Returning rather quickly, much to his delight, it turned out that Clara had selected a strange red dress that seemed to be made out of latex. His delight quickly disappeared, though there was still some amusement to be found in the look of discomfort on her face.

   “I…don’t think I can move in this,” she gasped out.

   “Then why did you put it on?” he asked.

   “You told me to wear a dress.”

   “It doesn’t have to be the most uncomfortable dress in the universe!” He brought a finger to his chin. “That’s probably an exaggeration. I’m sure there must be something more uncomfortable than that. Maybe a dress made out of nettles. That’d be terrible. Definitely don’t wear one of those.”

   “Why do you even have this thing?” Clara was pulling at the fabric helplessly, only for it to slap back into position as soon as she let go.

   “I’m allowed to experiment without judgement.”

   Her next two outfits happened to be a police uniform, and then the armour of a Roman soldier. Despite how hilarious and frankly adorable the sight of her in such clothes was, the Doctor couldn’t help the pang of sadness as he considered who the outfits had belonged to. He’d thought he’d gotten rid of every reminder of Amy and Rory from the Tardis to protect his shattered hearts, but it seemed that his ship had intervened on some accounts. Why the magical blue box thought he’d ever need those clothes again, the Doctor didn't know. Perhaps the old girl was choosing to mess with him just as much as Clara was. Or maybe the universe didn't want him to forget the mistakes he’d made in the past. The Doctor presumed that was also the Tardis’ plan, ensuring that he didn't repeat the same failures now he’d moved on slightly.

   “Yeah, you’ll get in trouble if you wear that uniform,” the Doctor said, pushing the faux-policewoman back to the dressing room. “Pretty sure it’s illegal, and being a time traveller won’t be an excuse. As for that armour…well…I’m pretty sure it’s too heavy to be running around in.”

   “I quite liked the helmet though,” Clara countered with an irresistible pout, before noticing that he wasn’t taking part in her playful banter. “Why are you looking at me with those sad eyes again?”

   “It’s…nothing…truly.”

   “You’re one hell of a bad liar, Doctor. Do you want to try that again, with some honesty this time?”

   “The clothes…they belonged to some friends of mine. It just brought back some memories, okay?” 

   He knew he was sounding defensive, but he was allowed to be. It was a big enough step for him to simply be talking about them after everything that had happened, which meant there was some allowance for a tetchiness in his tone. The Doctor understood that it was unfair to take out past resentments on Clara, but it wasn’t fair that she was so adept at dredging up buried history. If this was what it was like after just knowing her a week, the two of them doing nothing more than amble around the Tardis, then he was dreading what sort of conversations they’d be having when they properly knew one another.

   “I’ll go change,” Clara said hastily.

   “That’s probably for the best, yeah. But it’s not your fault, Clara. You didn't know.”

   “I know that. But I much prefer that daft face when it’s smiling rather than when it’s scarred by a frown, so I’ll hide these clothes away.”

   “You might want to give yourself a bit of a scrub down as well afterwards,” the Doctor advised. “There’s no telling what my friends got up to whilst they were wearing those.”

   The outfits didn't get much better. A pirate wandered by, followed by a French lieutenant (she was probably quite close to Napoleon’s height, judging from the Doctor’s personal experiences) and some sort of farmer. When she’d appeared in a bright orange spacesuit, he remarked that it suited her fairly well, but they’d be saving that for when they really needed it. A black and white striped swimsuit had him turning red (he was growing incredibly annoyed with his rebellious blood vessels), which seemed to be exactly the reaction she’d been looking for. Clara had promptly run off as soon as he caught a glimpse, the most she’d shown of herself to any other person. She really needed to find something suitable, for both their sakes.

   The Doctor was about to just walk away and give up, hoping the Tardis hadn’t randomly left its parked position out of boredom, when Clara unveiled her latest assortment. Her hair was slightly more tamed, with a flowery headband perched precariously amongst her brunette locks. Light grey tights were matched with a denim skirt that went just past her knees and thankfully didn't occupy nearly as much space as the skirts she was typically used to. The jumper she’d chosen was a soft navy blue, seemingly accentuating the few exposed areas of pale skin she had to offer. From her contented smile, the Doctor could tell that she knew she’d finally chosen correctly. 

   “Please tell me that we can go now,” Clara whined, wrapping her hands around his arm and pulling on him.

   “I think you’ll fit right in,” the Doctor replied softly, looking at her in open adoration.

   “Really?” She grinned brightly, biting her bottom lip in excitement. “This is really the sort of thing that people wear in the future?”

   “You almost sound disappointed.”

   “Well, I thought it would be all spacesuits and metal tuxedos.”

   “Metal tuxedos?”

   “Have they not been invented yet?”

   “You could be onto something with that idea. I’ll have to write that down.”

   “But only after we’ve actually left the Tardis, right?”

   “I thought it’d never happen.”

   Clara hit him on the arm. “I’ve got to look my best for our first date.”

   The Doctor choked on nothing more than the air in his lungs. “Date?”

   “Oh, Doctor, if you haven’t realised what we’re doing yet, then you’re a lot slower than I gave you credit for. Now, come on! There’s nothing stopping me from running headfirst into the future now!” She took a few steps, before skidding to a halt. “Oh.”

   “Oh? Oh what?”

   “Shoes! I didn't pick any shoes!” She raced back towards what was becoming her home in the Tardis, barely slowing down as she rounded the sharp corner.

   The Doctor rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath. “I guess I’ll see you in an hour, Clara.”

Chapter Text

The first thing that Clara noticed, besides how comfortable the trainers were that she’d picked out (what a strange word and product, by the way), was the noise. It was a cacophony of beeps and whirling sounds that slapped her in the face so hard that she did well not to stagger backwards to the safety of the Tardis. The Doctor maintained his position behind her, a reassuring presence and a much-needed one. Clara fretted that she was making a fool of herself, reacting so viscerally to the new surroundings. The Time Lord didn't say much about his past experiences, but she knew that he’d travelled with other people before they’d bumped into each other. She pictured them being so assured and confident, and felt herself deflate in response. How could she possibly hope to ever live up to them?

   She didn't know what to focus on. Perhaps the pavement underfoot, which was a light colour, something so similar to what she was used to, and yet so vastly different. It almost felt spongey compared to the hard cobbles she was used to across London. With every cautious step, a fresh smile would appear on her face, like a child walking for the first time. She was sure that, if she chose to run, she would bounce high into the sky like the ground was some sort of trampoline. Of course, the people around her weren’t doing that, but Clara’s imagination was running wild, and she’d learnt over the years to never tame it. It was her greatest asset, her prized possession. It was why she had pursued a mysterious man and followed him into the clouds.

   Oh, and the people! So many people! The Doctor had told her that they’d materialised in London, a point that had initially made her rather glum indeed. Why, with all the possibilities on offer, had he chosen to take her home? Was he fed up with her already? Had she taken too long to get dressed, making him realise that she wasn’t cut out for this life? In the end, one swing of the Tardis doors had quickly put those doubts to rest, highlighting just how wrong she’d been. If the Doctor said this was London, then Clara had to believe him, but it was so vastly unlike the city she knew.

   She couldn’t get over the people. She’d known London at some of its busiest periods, as if it ever calmed. Even at night, there would be plenty of people milling about, usually up to no good. Like the Doctor and his potatoey friend. But, with the sun out before them, the masses had flocked to the streets. Clara’s eyes were wide as she took in the size of the crowds, all minding their own business, barely talking to one another, all with somewhere else to be. She was worried that she would invariably get in someone’s way by standing there, yet no one seemed to come close, as if the blue box was a permanent feature they’d simply gotten used to. 

   Their clothes were wild and varied. Clara was at least glad that the Doctor had had the foresight to instruct her to change out of her previous outfit. She hugged the blue jumper she was sporting closer to her, grinning when she spotted another woman wearing something similar. She felt like she was fitting in, a swelling of excitement overcoming her like she’d passed an unspoken test. But, even so, that was just one person out of the bustling street scene. Clara was used to men in suits that looked remarkably similar to everyone else’s, despite how often they protested at just how expensive theirs was in comparison. Even the women, given slightly more leeway in public, typically stuck to long, flowing dresses.

   Not in the future, it seemed. Some men still wore suits, perhaps slightly more varied in colour, though they all seemed to be lacking the funny tails at the back that she’d grown used to. Others were much more casual, the crowd a sea of t-shirts (she hoped she was using that term correctly) and denim. A few wore pants that appeared to have been cut at the knees, and Clara worried that there was some sort of fashion vandal on the loose, plaguing the city. But she couldn’t even focus on the men for long, because the women were a much more remarkable sight. They had the right to look just like their male counterparts! T-shirts, jeans, soft jackets that Clara doubted would stave off any of the rain if it came. One walked past in a suit and Clara’s mind nearly malfunctioned as she processed the woman’s appearance. She rather liked it.

   She didn't want to limit herself to just people-watching. How could she, when metal boxes kept zooming past right in front of her, going at speeds that boggled the imagination? Clara almost walked right in front of one in pure fascination but the Doctor was on hand yet again to steer her away, constantly watching over her like an omnipresent guardian. How did the people get inside the contraptions? Why did each one look so different? Why were some small, and some ridiculously large? There was a carriage that had to be three times the size of the one next to it, painted in a bright red that made it stand out amongst the sea of silvers and blacks.

   “They’re called cars,” the Doctor explained, reading her mind so adeptly that she was sure that he must have some sort of magical power. “They’re like…the horse-drawn carriages you’ve seen all the time. Just…without the horse. Obviously.”

   “But how do they move then? Steam? Like a train?” she wondered.

   “They have an engine, just like you’re describing. Though they don’t use steam. It’s basically oil being combusted repeatedly. Some use electricity nowadays, because they’re finally starting to see that burning oil on an endless cycle isn’t going to have a lot of benefits?”

   “Ele-electr-electricity?”

   The Doctor pulled a face, probably at her pronunciation more than anything. “I’ll probably save that explanation for later. I don’t want to overwhelm you on your first proper trip.”

   Clara put her hands on her hips. “Because you don’t think I can cope with more knowledge? Are you underestimating me again, Doctor?”

   “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

   “Because you’re slightly scared of me?”

   “There’s nothing slight about it, Clara.”

   She smiled at that, wondering how someone so small, someone who was at a loss for words at a sight he must have seen countless times, could terrify him so easily. Clara wasn’t ashamed to admit that it gave her an excited thrill, to wield such power over him. It was entirely possible that he was lying, saying exactly what she wanted to hear in order to appease her. She didn't care too much. If he was choosing his words, then it was because he wanted her to think the best of him, to want to stay with him. She wasn’t going to argue if that continued. 

   “What are those red things?” she asked.

   “The postboxes? I’m pretty sure you had them in your time, Clara. I know you’re excited, but let’s focus on the truly amazing things on show.”

   “Not them!” She hit him on the arm, watching him wince playfully. “The big…cars, did you call them? The red ones!”

   “Oh, that makes more sense,” he replied, scratching his chin. “That’s a bus. Public transport, a bit like a train, but probably more smelly…and strangely sticky in ways you don’t want to ever investigate. Then again, some trains can be like that too.” He wrinkled his nose at the thought, possibly thinking about the time he’d accidentally found that out the hard way, something Clara was adamant he would have done. He was the sort of person to make a mistake like that out of curiosity, she just knew it. “They’re designed to carry loads of people at once, so that they can all travel together. Not that they really talk to one another. They’re too busy looking at their phones, or have learnt to never, ever make eye contact with anyone, in case they’re strange. Your entire morning commute could be ruined by one false glance.”

   “I didn't worry too much about catching the eye of someone strange,” Clara idly commented.

   “Really? When was that?” The Doctor looked at her with such innocence that she almost felt bad for laughing at him. Almost. His face fell considerably when he realised just who she was referring to. “Oh, I get it. Very funny. Insult the guy that’s showing you all this.”

   He threw his arms out wide at the scene, only for Clara to quickly clutch it, bringing it down so that she could lace her arm through his. It felt entirely more comfortable than it had any right to be. Not to mention the fact that a single woman being seen about town, basically wrapped around a man she wasn’t married to, would have been the most scandalous thing to happen for at least a month. They’d write newspaper clippings about it, and shun the woman from popular society. But Clara was feeling more brazen than that, buoyed by this new society. She watched as people just like her, young and carefree, walked hand in hand, laughing at jokes she probably wouldn’t understand.

   “I appreciate this more than you could ever imagine,” she assured the Doctor softly. “Although I think it’s sad.”

   “What?” He immediately sounded worried, as his plans to amaze her were falling apart. “What is?”

   “You said that all those people are crammed together in one space, but don’t take the time to get to know one another. Don’t you think that’s sad? All the wasted potential. If they bothered to look up, they might find the most important person in their life, only to miss out.”

   “I suppose. But that’s the way the world works, like it or not. One major thing you’re going to have to wrap your head around is that the world has gotten larger since your days, more connected. You can message someone on the other side of the globe within a matter of seconds, for instance.”

   “You’re lying!” Clara protested.

   “I’m not! And everyone takes it for granted. The planet, the technology, the people around them. It’s a larger world, but people are probably more isolated than they’ve ever been. They focus on themselves and the little devices in their pockets that flash every minute with news and art and music.”

   “You’re making it sound as if this place isn’t as magical as I first thought.” She was starting to ponder heading back inside, out of fear of becoming like everyone else.

   “Oh, trust me, Clara, it is magical. Because the human race isn’t all like that. Everyone has their down moments, where they want to be alone…”

   “...you’re speaking from experience, I know that.”

   “...yes, you’re right about that. But this world grants people the option. They can have that time alone to recharge, and then they get the chance to throw themselves into life again. They forge connections, not bound by gender, or race, or religion. It’s not perfect. If it was, it wouldn’t have the room to improve, and I’d stop visiting in an instant.”

   “Is that why you brought me here? To illustrate that boundless curiosity you still possess?”

   “I’m only curious because uncovering the truth about people has the potential to bring about the most amazing results.” He was looking at her with a sincere expression, so honest and unchecked that she was forced to look away. She felt she didn't deserve to be the recipient of that look just yet. She needed to earn it.

   “I know what you mean,” Clara murmured, casting her gaze over the people again. “It’s like I have this…burning desire to get to know everyone in front of me, to know their lives, to know how they’re different to me, to know what traits we still share despite the years between us. I’ve been described as nosey in the past, involving myself in things that don’t really concern me. I was always told that it’d get me into trouble in the end, and here I am now…”

   “Facing the best possible trouble in the universe.”

   “Just the way I like it.”

   “Although I’d advise against going up to people and asking about their personal lives. They can be very tetchy about that, especially if they’re listening to music. They hate getting interrupted during that. I understand the sentiment, of course. Marilyn Monroe was going to give me a private rendition of happy birthday once, but then someone inadvertently walked in and the moment was gone.”

   “I don’t think I’ll ever understand half of the words you say, Doctor.”

   “Just the way I like it,” he echoed with a grin.

   There was that look again, the one that made her feel funny on the inside. Clara tore her gaze away, admiring the buildings on show. She called them buildings, but they were just as ridiculous as the time machine she’d just travelled in. They were huge, scraping the sky as if they were the boots of gods. She’d seen Big Ben (and heard it too, much to her consternation) but reckoned the towers before her dwarfed the monument quite easily. And, compared to its wooden facade, these installations were constructed from glass, looking so mighty and yet so fragile. Clara wondered if it would only take one gentle touch from her to send them falling into one another, like giant dominoes.

   Most of the people she’d been admiring were venturing inside them too, and she could only imagine just how many of them could fit in each one. If she squinted, Clara could make out their shadows and silhouettes in the windows, invariably doing innocuous tasks that were made to look impressive thanks to their location. She wanted to go inside each one, to find out if they were all different, to find out what sort of decorations had become popular. Clara doubted that oil paintings of carefully posed individuals would fit in such mesmerising surroundings, but she’d been surprised enough already to know she couldn’t take anything for granted.

   The most remarkable thing about everything was the fact that people saw this as normal. This was their world, the one they’d grown used to. Clara considered the societies that had come before her, and how they may have marvelled at the things she had seen and owned. The roles had simply been reversed, pitting her as the starry-eyed onlooker. But, even so, she firmly believed that, if she’d lived in this mesmerising reality, then she never would have tired of the amazing things on offer. How many floors did that tower reach up to? Or the one next to it? Hundreds, surely, although that may have been an exaggeration created by her flourishing fantasies. People were basically walking into the sky, and looked as if it was an inconvenience, something they wished they could avoid. It baffled her more than anything else she’d seen.

   “How do they get them so tall?” she asked, relying on her tour guide once again. “The buildings? How long must it take to construct one, let alone all of the ones here?”

   “Not as long as you might think, although the contractors will probably charge for more months than strictly necessary,” the Doctor answered. “These aren’t even the most impressive towers on offer. Just down the road, there’s the Shard. I bet you’d love that. Don’t know why, I just get the feeling. I’d love to ride my motorcycle up the side, but who has time for that, hey?”

   “What about their homes? Are they tall like this?”

   “Some people live in similar buildings, but not to themselves. Unless they’re especially rich. Or egotistical. Most people live in homes just like you’re used to. Maybe not like Latimer’s estate, but who can afford a mansion these days?”

   “Have you noticed that you wrinkle your nose up quite delightfully whenever you mention the Captain’s name?”

   “I can’t keep track of what my nose does. It has a mind of its own. I can’t be held responsible for its behaviour.”

   “I’d hazard a guess that you’re jealous of him, because he wasn’t afraid to show his obvious affections for me.”

   “Do I need to be jealous?”

   Clara smirked. “I came with you, didn't I?”

   The Doctor straightened his bow tie, as if buoyed by the injection of confidence. “I suppose you did. Has it been worth it so far?”

   “All I want to do is run forwards and explore… everything .”

   “Can we agree on a leisurely stroll instead? I’m not as young as I used to be, and I’d hate to finally have my knees pack in. It’d be embarrassing more than anything.”

   “I think I can manage that.” It was her turn to scrunch up her nose. “What’s that smell?”

   It was almost as if she’d been so overcome by looking at everything, that her other senses had fallen to the wayside. Only now, as her mind slowed down, did she stop to appreciate the complex aromas swirling around them. Some were much more pleasant than others, that was for definite. Every time someone walked past them, there would be a flash of a new smell, intoxicating and intriguing. If she closed her eyes, she could almost drown everything else out, purely focusing on the changing and shifting scents.

   “You could be talking about a lot of things, so I might need you to narrow it down. It could be the fuel of the cars, which I quite like the smell of. Or humans tend to love their perfumes, though I’d advise against tasting them when you’re offered to do so in a department store. What are you focusing on?”

   Clara’s stomach grumbled. “It smells like…food.”

   The Doctor laughed. “You humans never change. There’s a kebab shop over there that seems to be wafting over towards us.”

   “Kebab?”

   “Oh, you’ve got to try one! Come on, that’s our first stop.”

   “And then we can get the bus? I don’t know why I want to…”

   “I’ve got a Tardis and you’d prefer to travel by bus?” He couldn’t keep up the pretence of being annoyed. “If that’s what you want, then so be it. Just don’t touch the sticky stuff.” 

**********

   She rushed into the room, practically skidding to a halt in front of the large screen that dominated the office space. She made sure to straighten out her suit, knowing that she was always expected to look presentable in front of the boss. He had a tendency to remove people for the slightest of things, and she hadn’t survived this long without learning how to avoid that same fate. The news she was going to give him would ensure she didn't have to worry about that for much longer. She’d be his second in command in no time.

   “Sir, we’ve picked up sightings of exactly what you described,” she said. “The blue box. He’s here.”

   “Excellent,” the faceless voice said through the screen.

   “What do you want us to do?”

   “Follow him. See what he’s up to. I doubt he’ll stay for long, but that’s no bother. I’ve learnt to be patient. I’ve had to be patient.”

Chapter Text

“Las Vegas!”

   The Doctor was racing around the console of the Tardis, basically skipping at some points in his excitement. Clara was struggling to keep up. She was slowly learning that it was best to stand in one spot and wait for him to finally come to a stop, otherwise she’d have no energy left for their actual adventures. The curious thing was that she didn't know what the cause was of his giddiness, having been in modern-day London one moment, only to be charging back towards their blue box the next. Having just consumed her first ever kebab, probably eating way more than was socially acceptable, running across the capital wasn’t the best of ideas. It was no wonder that she couldn’t maintain his electric pace now, even if he’d also consumed a similar amount of meat and bread.

   Clara idly noted that she’d just referred to the Tardis as theirs and, despite the short space of time they’d been together, it felt right to call it such.

   She hadn’t expected to be back in the time machine so soon but being the Doctor was a series of unpredictable decisions on his part. She shouldn’t have opened her mouth. She’d been enjoying her time in the bustling city, hoping that she could explore for the rest of the day. Until she’d stumbled across a building consisting mainly of tall windows, people in tight-fitting outfits doing all sorts of movements and exercises within. It had made Clara blush, witnessing how unashamedly sweaty everyone was, mostly keeping to themselves, but some seemingly working in tandem. She reckoned that, if the Doctor had taken any other person from her moment in time, their heads would have exploded as soon as they laid eyes upon the sight.

   Not Clara. She prided herself on her curiosity, wanting to figure out what was going on before she started jumping to conclusions. Not to mention the fact that, if she got caught up in the ideals of the society she knew, then there was no chance of her surviving on these wonderful trips. The Doctor would take her back almost immediately, realising that he’d obviously made a mistake, and she’d be back at the Rose and Crown. They’d take her back, of course. She was the best employee they’d ever had. But the pub was infinitely smaller than the universe she’d only just tasted.

   So she’d opened her mouth, to prove to the Doctor that she wanted to learn with every second that ticked by, only for it to prompt a sudden sprint moments later.

   “What are they doing?” she’d asked innocently, perhaps staring too long through the windows. 

   One of the women running on some sort of contraption without actually going anywhere seemed to be frowning at her, but it wasn’t enough to make her look away. Clara wanted to make sense of it. What was the point of running if you didn't reach somewhere new? Were her legs broken? Was the machine a twisted torture device, designed to endlessly push people to the end of their wills? Quite a few of the patrons appeared to be hating the experience, so that lent credence to her theory.

   “It’s a gym,” the Doctor had answered with passing interest, having wanted to press on. He was forced to turn back on himself when he realised that Clara wasn’t budging. “People nowadays are obsessed with keeping their bodies fit. They spend countless sums of money to be able to go to places like this, and exercise until they have the supposedly right appearance. Of course, it’s a concept that’s holy unattainable and incredibly inaccurate. The right appearance has never existed, because we should thrive in our inherent uniqueness. But humans like to compete with one another, which is something that was just as prevalent in your time as it is now. I suppose this is a healthier method than…gladiatorial battles, for example.”

   “I can hear music,” Clara commented, absentmindedly tapping her foot to the distant beat.

   The Doctor craned his neck to look further inside. “Oh, yes. They love their music to get them in the mood, although I think the music you’re hearing is actually for the zumba class towards the back of the room.”

   “Zumba? You’re making up words now.”

   “I am not! It’s a real thing that they do. A strange thing, but still very much real. It combines exercise with dance. I tried it once, but I was so naturally good that everyone thought I was the instructor, and then the real teacher kicked me out for showing them the ‘giraffe arms’.”

   “I think I’m getting a headache whenever I listen to you, Doctor.”

   “People often complain about that, yes.”

   Clara smiled as she attempted to look more closely at the group he was talking about. “Dancing seems a lot more energetic than the small amount I’ve seen.”

   “It’s more exciting than regal balls, that’s for sure. Quicker, and a lot more varied. One thing humans are good at is coming up with new forms of dance.”

   “I want to try it,” Clara had said, the reason why she was now standing in the Tardis.

   “Zumba?”

   “Dancing! I want to experience what it’s like.” She’d extended her hand, going against all protocols and decorum. But wasn’t that one of the benefits of escaping her world? She could live more freely. “I want to dance with you, Doctor.”

   He hadn’t needed any further encouragement after that, grabbing her proffered hand and pulling her along the street. It was fairly obvious that the onlookers that whizzed by in a blur were judging them for their strange behaviour, and yet Clara laughed uncontrollably all the same. She hadn’t expected him to take her up on her offer so eagerly. Even in that scenario, she’d believed that London was so large that it’d house countless places for them to dance for as long as they wanted. It seemed that the Doctor had other ideas, never doing something by half. 

   Catching her breath, Clara put her hands on her hips. “Las Vegas? You say it as if I should know what you mean.”

   The Doctor skidded to a halt so violently that his shoes started to smoke (or at least they should have). “Oh…I suppose you couldn’t possibly know, since the city was founded over a decade after I took you.”

   “ You took me ? It’s the other way around, surely.”

   “Mere semantics, Clara.”

   “I think it’s fairly important for the future of our relationship that you understand the way things started and operate.”

   “Do you want to have this debate? Or would you rather me take you somewhere fabulous?”

   “Is this Las Vegas fabulous then? You called it a city, but is it a city on another planet?” 

   She was getting giddy, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet. No wonder the Doctor was so excitable most of the time. Clara thought back to the man she’d first met, grumpily walking down the street, hoping to avoid anyone who tried to make contact with him. She was glad that she’d been able to get past his defences, not just because it had opened the door to new worlds, but also because it had reinvigorated the man. The childlike glee he was sporting now was a far cry from the miserable wanderer he’d been. She felt a quiet pride at the fact that she’d been responsible for that change, or so she liked to believe.

   “Do other planets even have cities?” Clara continued to ask. “I imagine they’re huge metropolises, spanning thousands of miles, with flying vehicles and people with green skin.”

   “The notion that all aliens have to be green is highly problematic, and I’ll warn you away from that mindset before we actually meet an extraterrestrial.”

   “You might need to give me a rulebook just to be safe.”

   “That’s actually quite a good idea. I’d call it…the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy…oh wait, I think that might already be taken. Never mind. I’m sure I’ll come up with something else.”

   “Las Vegas then?” Clara prodded him, hoping to get him back on track. It was remarkable just how easily distracted he could be.

   “A city, built in 1905 if I’m correct, and I sometimes am. In America, so not a distant planet, although it does feel like that sometimes compared to the rest of the world.” The Doctor poked her on the end of her nose when he realised she was looking rather disappointed. “I know you want to explore the stars, but you made it pretty clear that you also want to dance. There’s no place better for that. We’ll go on the ultimate night out, along the strip. Maybe before it becomes all seedy and touristy. Las Vegas in the Forties? I could get us front row seats for Frank Sinatra and Elvis Presley on the same night if I ask nicely, though at least one of them may need to come for a ride with us to get there. You’ll love dancing to that, I’m sure.”

   “As long as you’re dancing with me.”

   “I might step on your toes.”

   “Then it’s a good job that these trainers are sturdier than the shoes I normally wear.” She glanced down at his feet. “Although I might ask you to leave your boots behind, just to be on the safe side.”

   “At least one of us is thinking sensibly. Just don’t be upset when I show you up on the dance floor.”

   “Do you really believe that’s going to happen?” Clara made sure to lace her words with scepticism. 

   “You haven’t seen my moves.”

   “You haven’t seen mine either. It’s an artform, learning to dance away from a man you’re not interested in without alerting him to the fact that you’re leaving.”

   “You’re not going to leave me though, right?”

   It was an innocent question, one that was designed to be playful and humorous. Most people would have laughed it away, seeing it as part of the game they were playing. But Clara looked into his eyes and realised that there was something else bubbling away under the surface. He was joking, yes, but it was tinged with vulnerability. He’d been left before, that much she knew, and it seemed as if he couldn’t afford to go through that again. How many other things did he hide behind a cheeky smile and twinkle in his eye? How had she already gotten so good at looking out for those cues?

   “I wouldn’t dream of it, Doctor.”

   “Good,” he replied, lacing his arm through hers to guide her towards the console. “I guess I’ll also take you to the casino. I like all the games, though I always forget that real money is involved.”

   “Money? Like gambling?”

   “You don’t sound too impressed.”

   “I just assumed that people may have advanced past the need for stuff like that over the century.”

   “The slot machines make brilliant noises though!”

   “You’re literally a child.”

   “I’m hundreds of years old, I’ll have you know.”

   “You’re looking very good for your age then.”

   “I have a highly sought after face care routine that keeps my skin glowing.” He drew his eyebrows together. “You don’t seem too alarmed about how old I am. It normally freaks people out at first.”

   “I’m more interested in what these dance moves are going to be like.”

   “Fine, I get it,” the Doctor said with a roll of his eyes. “You want us to get going rather than me blabbering away like usual. Gosh, I didn't expect you to be so pushy.”

   “You expected me to be exactly that! It’s one of the reasons I got your attention.”

   He smiled at that, pulling down the lever to set them into motion. Without giving her any warning, Clara was forced to desperately cling onto a well-placed metal pole. It was so perfectly positioned that it was clear that plenty of others had been in this situation too, making her believe that he was doing it on purpose. Perhaps to show off. Perhaps to remind her that he was still in charge, that she was a novice to their explorations without expressly saying that out loud. Then again, from the look on the Doctor’s face, marred with an expression of concern, it appeared that their flight trajectory wasn’t what he’d been anticipating.

   By now, Clara was fairly used to the madness of the Tardis. Of course, she was just thinking that in the hope she could convince the Doctor that she was a natural at this sort of thing but, even so, she’d already acclimatised to the crazy ride that invariably went hand in hand with their journeys. She supposed that a bumpy few minutes was a decent price to pay for the wonders that were on offer, and Clara had to admit that it added to the overall atmosphere of excitement. Their journey now, however, was on a whole other level. Even the Doctor was struggling to stay on his feet, whilst also trying to look as cool as possible in front of his new companion.

   “Is it supposed to be like this?” Clara shouted over the noise.

   “The Tardis can be temperamental at the best of times!” the Doctor yelled in response. “Maybe I’ve somehow upset her without realising, and this is how she’s repaying me.”

   “Could it be something more serious?”

   “There’s always that possibility, but I’ve discovered that it never helps anyone if you enter a situation with that mindset!”

   “Do you think it’s serious though?”

   The Tardis landed with an almighty thud, and Clara’s grip finally gave way. She ended up on the floor, with a bruised ego to go with her body. She grumbled under her breath, still wondering whether the Doctor was doing this on purpose. She was used to men trying to assert their dominance, mainly because they couldn’t usually cope with her fiery personality, but she wanted to believe that the Doctor wasn’t like that. His hand was outstretched towards her, at least, signalling that he was apologetic. She pushed herself up, however, not wanting to fall into any potential power grab.

   “See, not serious!” the Time Lord explained happily, rummaging through his pockets and producing what looked like glasses, although the lenses were darkened. How could anyone possibly see out of them with any clarity?

   “What are you wearing?”

   “Sunglasses! America is incredibly hot and sunny, and I always aim to be prepared. I’m fairly certain you Victorians had sunglasses, so I don’t know why you’re wrinkling your nose up in disgust.”

   “Probably because no one I know would be seen dead in those.”

   “Hey! Sunglasses are cool!” The Doctor stomped towards the doors rather sulkily, as if he’d fully expected her to see them as a dashing accessory. “And they’re perfect for where we’re going! Viva Las Vegas!”

   He shouted the last bit as he pulled the doors open, only to be sent flying to the ground almost as soon as he did so. With Clara close behind, she was unable to keep her balance as well, tumbling downwards for the second time in quick succession. She had a bad feeling that this was going to be a common trend throughout their travels, and she was already planning on wearing clothing that was better at protecting her. She pictured the vast wardrobe inside the Tardis, remembering spotting quite a few helmets of varying designs. It would be a crime against fashion, yes, but at least she’d avoid banging her head again.

   “Intruders on the bridge!”

   The change in scenery, and the angry shouts, prevented Clara from focusing too much on the bruises she must have been sporting. First of all, she was suddenly wet, which went against the claims the Doctor had made that they were entering a stiflingly hot location. She sputtered uncontrollably, feeling the water in her mouth. Wiping at her eyes, she was just about able to make sense of their surroundings, numerous people standing around them with furious expressions. They seemed to be housed inside a confined metal tube, with red lights flashing ominously. Even without having much of an understanding about technology, Clara knew that it wasn’t a good sign.

   “Who the hell are you?” one of the uniformed men shouted at them.

   “Break out side arms!” another commanded. “Restrain them!”

   Clara was saved from the watery depths, but only because of a rough tug on her arms lifting her from the ground. The Doctor was in a similar predicament, being manhandled without much care, protesting loudly. It wasn’t having any effect on the soldiers. Clara presumed they were soldiers, but maybe people in Las Vegas tended to dress differently. It wouldn’t have been the strangest thing about the situation.

   One of the men was seated by a screen similar to what she’d seen in the Tardis, a green circle beeping every so often. “410! 420! Turbines still not responding!”

   “They’ve got to!” The bark came from the bearded man that had first greeted them with ire.

   The Doctor shrugged out of the hold of his captors, scanning the place with his sonic. “Ah! Sideways momentum! You’ve still got sideways momentum!”

   “What?!”

   “Your propellers work independently of the main turbines. You can’t stop her going down, but you can manoeuvre the sub laterally! Do it!”

   “Get these people off the bridge!” Clara was growing to dislike the grumpiest of the soldiers.

   “Geographical anomaly to starboard!” the Doctor continued, despite the fact that he was being pulled away again. “Probably an underwater ridge! We have a chance of stopping this if we manage to get onto that ridge! Otherwise this thing is going to implode!”

   Clara looked at him in alarm. “It is?!”

   The bearded man seemed to sigh, water soaking his face. “Lateral thrust to starboard! All propellers! Now!”

   Clara couldn’t begin to imagine what they were attempting to do. A few more seconds of chaos ensued, the metal tube moving wildly, before it impacted something below. A couple tense moments greeted them as they waited for something else to happen, the relative calm quite strange to experience. The landing, if that was what had happened, had caused the soldiers closest to them to stumble, allowing Clara to cling onto the Doctor with all of her strength.

   “Is this what Las Vegas is normally like?” she wondered, using the quiet to speak to him at last.

   “This isn’t where we were supposed to go. It’s infinitely better! A submarine! A Soviet submarine!”

   “You’re going to have to explain that a bit more to me, Doctor.”

   “Basically a vessel that can travel underwater. And it’s crashing! Or was, thanks to my quick intervention. Always love the drama of a crashing submarine.”

   “Do you, now?” the bearded one questioned, stepping up the Doctor and holding him by the lapels of his jacket. “Who are you? How did you get here? What did you do to my vessel?”

   “You know what? Just this once, I’m not going to lie. I’m not going to even use the psychic paper. I’m the Doctor, that’s Clara, we’re both time travellers, okay?”

   “Time travellers?”

   “We just arrived out of thin air. You saw it happen. There’s a big blue box standing right behind you that wasn’t there a minute ago. Look, Captain…you’re obviously the captain…oxygen is precious down here, so let’s not waste it by arguing.” He was relieved to find the man let go of him, evidently not hearing the hissing coming behind him that had caught everyone’s attention. Clara looked at the looming shadow with growing apprehension. “Thank you! Finally seeing sense! Now, what state is the sub in? Can we repair it? Or could we signal a rescue ship? I’d offer to take you back in the Tardis, but some of you don’t deserve that spectacle after the way you were grabbing my friend.”

   “Doctor,” Clara murmured warily.

   “No, you don’t have to worry, Clara. I won’t allow anyone to treat you like that, even in an emergency.”

   “Doctor…” The hissing grew louder, forcing the Doctor to finally turn around. “When you said it wasn’t accurate to say that aliens are green, I suppose you weren’t referring to that one.”

Chapter Text

   “Ice Warrior!”

   For what it was worth, the Doctor sounded genuinely thrilled about the unexpected arrival, refusing to back down against the imposing, strange-looking figure. His giddy excitement, in the face of such potential danger, was more akin to a child in a sweetshop, which didn't make sense from Clara’s point of view. The other men around them were cautiously retreating, their knees visibly shaking. She could almost smell their sweat, though that might have been the general aroma the cramped, metal space provided. But the Doctor…he wasn’t scared, he wasn’t shaking, and he certainly wasn’t basically using her as a human shield as some of the armed soldiers were doing. Even with his back turned to her, Clara could tell that he was curious about the creature’s presence, focusing on the mystery rather than the peril.

   He was so relaxed that he practically made her feel braver to face the alien herself, though that was still one step too far. Keeping her distance was probably the best policy for the time being, not that her legs would have cooperated if she’d wanted to move closer. All her mind was thinking about was pulling the Doctor backwards for his own safety, in case the intimidating monster lashed out unexpectedly. What would she do without him? Not just in a personal sense, in which she’d already started to define herself by their travels, but also in a practical one. She wouldn’t get off this submarine, as the Doctor had called it, without his assistance. She couldn’t possibly pilot the Tardis on her own, instead more likely to get lost in its corridors forever. She’d die quite quickly if he was to fall first, and she’d been too much of a taste of this new life to accept that as a possibility.

   Clara chose to focus on the creature, trying to make sense of its appearance. It was a towering figure, barely fitting through the steel corridor. Its green head scraped against the very top of the chamber, but it didn't seem to display any discomfort. She wondered whether it was in fact a helmet that it was wearing, or whether it was just trying to impress them through its sheer strength. It loomed in the shadows, the darkness of their surroundings adding to the fear spiking through her veins, its presence almost obscured apart from when the flashing red light washed over it. Its scale-like skin made it abundantly clear that this was nothing like anything she’d seen before, a creature from the same stars she’d been looking forward to exploring.

   Did it come as any comfort to know the Doctor at least knew what it was?

   The creature took a couple of steps forward, which boomed with an almighty echo. Its hissing continued, making Clara wonder whether that was the only way it could communicate. Did aliens speak with proper words? The Snowmen had growled and snarled without meaning, and this latest foe appeared to fall into the same remit. She just had to hope that the Ice Warrior (if she’d heard correctly from the Doctor) was much more pleasant than the first extraterrestrial fiends she’d come up against. Judging by the name, she wasn’t holding out much hope.

   “We were drilling through the ice,” one of the men explained, older than the rest, and the only one not in uniform. He had a strange contraption wrapped around his neck that didn't fit in with the other decor. “I thought it was a mammoth.”

   “Definitely not a mammoth,” the Doctor rasped in disbelief. “It’s a native of the planet Mars. And we go way back. Way back. Like you wouldn’t believe. Oh, I could tell you some stories, mostly about intergalactic politics and diplomacy, but I doubt the time’s right for that.”

   “A Martian?” the captain sputtered, the one standing closest to them, the bravest of the group he was leading. “You can’t be serious!”

   “Haven’t I already explained the magically appearing blue box? Surely an alien shouldn’t blow your mind after the day you’re having.” He was forced to throw his hands up when one of the soldiers cocked his pistol, with the creature raising its arm with a metallic whirr. “No, no, no! Please! There’s no need for this! If you’ll just take the time to listen to me.” He was pleading with the alien, focusing all of his attention on placating the immediate danger. “If you’ll do me the honour of hearing me out. You’re confused, disorientated. Of course you are. Who can blame you? You’ve been lying in the ice for…how long?”

   The old man stumbled at the Doctor’s incessant clicking. “Um…by my calculations…roughly five thousand years.”

   “Five thousand years,” the Doctor repeated. “That’s one hell of a nap. Anyone would be cranky. But nobody here wants to hurt you.” He sent a sharp glare at the soldier, who finally found the sense to lower his weapon. “Please…introductions should calm us down. What’s your name? Who are we being greeted with?”

   “What are you talking about?” the captain barked impatiently. “A name? It has a name?”

   “Don’t be stupid! Of course it does. And a rank. He’s a soldier, just like you. There you go, you have some common ground. And that means we should give it its deserved respect.”

   “This is madness! That thing is a monster!” 

   Clara found herself agreeing with the beleaguered captain, but she wasn’t about to argue with the Doctor. Not when he was trying so desperately to defuse the situation. It was quite impressive to watch him, to see him in action. She’d been unconscious when he’d dealt with the Great Intelligence, meaning she’d missed the majority of his heroics. For the first time, she was properly seeing the fabled hero come to life, the one Vastra and Jenny had still believed was within him. If Clara had the space to swoon in the confined environment, then she would have done.

   “Skaldak,” the monster declared, putting to bed Clara’s qualms about communication.

   Clara hadn’t known the Doctor long, so she couldn’t claim to be an expert on what his different expressions meant. Even if she did like to think that they’d struck up a favourable bond over their short time together. But a complete stranger would have instantly figured out that the response from the creature had caught the Doctor unawares. His mannerisms became muted, his arms no longer moving about frantically. His face seemed to grow pale at the name, making him look scared more than anything. If there was one thing that Clara wouldn’t use to describe the man, it was that he could be frightened easily. And suddenly the confidence she’d been carrying in response to his bravado shattered, as if they were intrinsically linked already.

   “Skaldak,” the Doctor repeated in a low whisper, aiming it like a question, seemingly in the hope of being corrected. No such alteration came.

   Clara stepped closer to her new friend, feeling the need to provide whatever comfort she could muster up. But how could someone as small as her ease the pain of someone so grand and infinite? She would likely be laughed at just for trying, as if she were encroaching into matters that couldn’t possibly concern her. Of course, the Doctor wasn’t the sort of person to look down on others unwarranted, that she knew of, but the mind was quick to play games in situations like this. Trapped in an impossible tube that seemed to be on the verge of crashing at any moment, with a creature who claimed to be thousands of years old and from another planet entirely…well, it was a miracle that she could think at all, regardless of whether the thoughts themselves were rational.

   “Doctor,” she murmured quietly. “What’s wrong? Is everything okay? Have you met this…” She didn't want to say ‘thing’, “...creature before?”

   Clara didn't know what happened next. One moment, she was perfectly upright, considering extending a hand for the Doctor to cling onto, the next, she was being sent spiralling out of control for the third time that day. She didn't even have time to consider the annoying factor of the repeating fate. There was an almighty groan from somewhere . She couldn’t tell the specifics, just that the submarine was soon continuing its previously halted descent with renewed abandon. The men yelled in fright, but all she focused on was the sound of the Doctor shouting her name, desperately attempting to steady her, forever tantalisingly out of reach.

   The heavy creak of their surroundings was accompanied by a mix of other sounds. She was sure that she could hear the Tardis’ engines firing up, although that didn't make sense. She was sure that the Doctor was still beside her, and he wouldn’t consider leaving her behind. She hoped so, at least. It wasn’t even the most alarming of developments, with a familiar hiss crying out through the cramped setting, reverberating against the metal walls. It was closely followed by further shouts from the soldiers around her and, more to her concern, the Doctor, who seemed to be angry about something.

   Whatever it was, Clara couldn’t tell, because everything went black soon after.

**********

   Before her eyes reopened, the first thing Clara picked up on was the fact that she was wet. Again. Maybe she hadn’t stopped being soaked since her previous plunge, which hadn’t happened too long ago. She didn't have the best of relationships with water, since a lake had borne a creature made out of ice, hell bent on killing her and her wards. Whatever the situation was now, it wasn’t entirely clear whether it was at all less life threatening than that particular episode, which should have highlighted just how strange her life had become.

   The immediate thing that she appreciated was the fact that she was apparently still alive, a bonus given the circumstances. They’d been falling from what she could remember, though their momentum had evidently been arrested. There was a solid floor underneath her, though it was layered with a fairly deep layer of ocean water that explained her damp appearance. It was going to ruin the clothes she’d just grown fond of, although she expected the Tardis had plenty of other options for her to consider. Not that the Doctor would appreciate going through that experience yet again.

   Her thoughts drifting to the blue box made her eyes flicker open, an action that took a remarkable level of strength. The same red lights were flashing above, painting the darkness in a somehow more ominous glow. Uniformed men were strutting about, splashing and wading through the water with little care. The Doctor’s tweed-covered torso stood out amongst the rest, which came as a much-needed reassurance. There were, however, a couple of notable absentees. Firstly, the Tardis was no longer where it had first parked, partially explaining why she’d heard it just before her dalliance with unconsciousness, though there was still no discernable reason as to why it had moved.

   And the Ice Warrior had vanished too. It was the sort of development Clara might have expected the Doctor and their unexpected companions to be happy about. Perhaps everything had been rectified whilst she’d slept, something she was used to after missing out on the Great Intelligence’s demise. But the Doctor’s face was contorted into pointed, angry lines, and it didn't require a lip reader to understand the sentiment of what he was saying. By the time her ears started to cooperate, she was met with the unmistakable sound of men shouting.

   Not a lot had changed over the years, it seemed. Men would always find a reason to raise their voices.

   “Your men are idiots!” the Doctor was yelling, going as far as prodding the captain heavily on his chest.

   “I won’t allow you to insult any of my crew, Doctor,” the Captain returned, as if they’d been through this topic of conversation countless times.

   “Then maybe they shouldn’t keep giving me reasons to do so.”

   “They were afraid, Doctor. Frankly, I’m inclined to forgive them for that.”

   The man she’d started travelling with stepped closer to his bearded counterpart, and suddenly he didn't look much like the person she’d run away with. His face was dark and cold, weighed down by memories that threatened to spill over into the real world. If anything, he looked distinctly similar to the Doctor she’d met in the cold alley, before he’d opened his hearts again to the possibility of adventure. Clara was beginning to feel foolish about believing she’d helped him change, when it was apparently so easy for him to fall back into his old ways.

   “Doctor,” she called out meekly, still rediscovering her voice. She must have sounded so pitiful compared to what he was used to.

   He was by her side in an instant, bending down to get a look at her. And then her friend was back, his lips curved in a calming smile, his eyes twinkling like the stars she’d only just started to touch. It was a bit jarring, to experience the change in demeanour so openly. Here stood a man that was more complex than any person she’d ever met before. It should have terrified her just as much as the Ice Warrior. It should have sent her running away (to where, when they were probably trapped, she didn't know). But it was strangely reassuring, to see him alter his ways just because he’d been summoned, as if she had the power to change him for good. Perhaps she was helping him discover his true self just as much as he was doing the same for her.

   “Hey there, Clara,” he said, waving the sonic in her face without asking permission. The green bulb melded into a kaleidoscope of colour as it mixed with the alarm still flashing. “You took a nasty fall there. Bumped your head. You should probably consider being more careful in future.”

   Even in her current state, she wasn’t willing to let that slide, and shoved him with less force than she would have liked. “Thanks for the support.”

   “It’s what I’m here for.”

   “Are you going to tell me what happened?”

   The Doctor pulled a face, which told her that he wanted to do completely the opposite. And yet he acquiesced, giving her another thrill of power. “The sub was putting too much of a strain on the ridge we’d docked on. It needed to settle, which caused us to fall a bit further, but we should be okay now. The disturbance was the reason why you fell over.”

   “Then you can’t blame me for being clumsy,” she argued, but the attempt at levity fell flat. “There’s something else that’s concerning you…”

   He rubbed his chin, clearly disgruntled. “The sudden movement, mixed with everyone being on edge, caused someone to make a hasty decision. One of the Russians lashed out at Skaldak, striking him with a cattle prod.”

   “Not ideal.”

   “The Ice Warrior is now in chains a few floors below us, and we’d best start praying that he stays that way.”

   “Then I don’t see what you’re complaining about,” the captain butted in. “The threat has been neutralised. That sounds like good work to me.”

   The Doctor helped Clara back to her feet, before replacing the glare on his face. “No, it isn’t good news in the slightest. Your underling has just attacked an Ice Warrior in cold blood. Can you imagine the sort of disrespect that’s shown? Can you imagine what sort of methods Skaldak will use to rectify that slight on his name? You may be fighting one conflict already, Captain Zhukov, but you’ve got a whole other war on your hands now.”

   “I thought that name resonated with you,” Clara remarked, almost proudly. 

   “For good reason too. The Ice Warriors…as a race…are steeped in military glory. And he’s one of the main contributing factors behind that sparkling record. Skaldak was one of their most prized generals, renowned for his thirst for blood. He was…is…more than a soldier. He’s a genius in his field.” He turned his attention back to Zhukov, which Clara had to accept was the man’s name. “And you’ve called his honour into question. Whilst we’re stuck on a submarine that is doomed to keep falling if we spend too long here.”

   “You say we’re trapped…does that have something to do with the Tardis no longer being here?”

   The Doctor’s anger swiftly melted into embarrassment. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

   Clara wasn’t ever going to be perturbed so easily. “Why not? Usually, from what I’ve seen in the past, when men refuse the chance to open their mouths, it’s because they’ve done something wrong. Because heaven knows just how much they love the sound of their own voice.”

   “I haven’t done anything wrong!”

   “A mistake then? Something accidental?”

   “You could call it that, I suppose.”

   “Then why don’t you tell me? It’s not as if we need to hide anything from each other. The way you’re talking, we’re likely to die down here, so what’s the point in keeping secrets?”

   The Doctor sighed, perhaps at her stubbornness, perhaps at her carefree attitude when it came to the danger of the situation. “I was just…experimenting with the old girl! Can I be blamed for that? There are some systems that I haven’t bothered reactivating for quite some time, so I thought I’d tinker with what’s possible. Which included the HADS.”

   “HADS? Is that a phrase that I’m supposed to know?”

   “Hostile Action Displacement System. Basically…if the Tardis senses any serious danger, she’ll automatically send herself to a random location. I guess it’s worked a bit too efficiently for my liking. I’m sure she’ll show up at some point. I just don’t know where…”

   “Even I know that it’s dangerous for you to be messing with something like that.”

   “Thanks for the show of confidence.”

   “It’s what I’m here for.”

   “What this means is that we’re just as trapped as everyone else, until help arrives. And we don’t even know if that message has been sent out, thanks to the damage the submarine’s been put through. But the entire place imploding is the least of our concerns, frankly.”

   “How is that even possible?”

   “Because Skaldak will want to kill every single one of us before that happens. He’ll want to hunt us down like sport, unless he can be reasoned with.”

   “Have you considered talking to him?” the old man unlike any of the soldiers suggested. Clara couldn’t help but feel warmth towards him.

  “Talking…to him?”

   “Yes! He seemed perfectly willing to share his name, so that should serve as some encouragement, don’t you think?”

   “That was before he was attacked. He’ll refuse to talk to any sort of soldier, that’s for sure, which rules everyone out. Myself included.”

   Clara was rather interested about that little tidbit of information. She tugged his arm, giving him a small smile, and maybe it was the bang to the head, but the things seemed pretty simple. “Not everyone…”

Chapter Text

The Doctor had protested. Of course he’d protested. Vehemently, in fact. With so much passion that it was rather surprising, and a touch alarming. He’d grown incredibly protective of her in a short space of time and, therefore, didn't especially want her being put in a room, alone, with a fearsome warrior who had just been poked like an angry bear. Maybe he was the one being reasonable, when you looked at the situation from that perspective. But she was standing there now, with only a thick metal wall between her and the alien, having gotten her own way in the end.

   The most startling part of the heated debate concerning who was best to act as a spokesperson, was the fact that Captain Zhukov had been just as against the idea of sending her in, particularly if she wasn’t armed. Clara got the sense that it didn't have much to do with any thoughts about her prolonged wellbeing, and revolved more around the point that a woman was being tasked with a dangerous job, as if it was putting a slight on his and his men’s honour. It was an absurd notion, which she’d said to him herself. She was the only one who could get close enough to Skaldak to hopefully get him to open up.

   The old man, who claimed to be a professor, had suggested that he ventured inside instead. Clara had put that idea to bed rather quickly, probably too quickly for the Doctor’s liking. Obviously, she wanted to protect the one person, barring her travelling companion, who had shown her an ounce of warmth and kindness since arriving on the strange submarine. There was also another factor playing on her mind. She’d worked up the nerve to do this now, almost excited about the prospect. Sure, she was on edge and her heart was playing out a particularly energetic percussion beat, but she was about to talk to an alien for the first time. In her head, the ice governess didn't count, because she’d originally been just as human as her. And there hadn’t been much talking, when she thought about it. A lot of screaming, yes, but minimal conversation.

   Clara just hoped that it would be a little bit different this time, with potentially an even more dangerous foe.

   The Doctor plonked an odd device onto her head without warning. Thanks to her already jumpy demeanour, she startled slightly at his touch, glaring at him with what she believed was suitable annoyance. His expression didn't give much away, but Clara was sure that he’d snook up on her to get his own back on her, for making him agree to this in the first place. The object, whatever it was, messed up her hair, clamping down around her ears uncomfortably, with something protruding out of it and resting just in front of her mouth. She eyed it warily, prodding it with a small degree of caution. A questioning look was sent to the Doctor, and was reciprocated with a nervous smile.

   “This will allow me to talk to you once you’re inside,” he explained. “It’s basically a radio.”

   “You’re doing that thing again.”

   “Where I assume you know something, despite the time period you come from?”

   She squeezed his cheek affectionately, which he frowned at. “At least you know what the problem is. That’s the first step to stopping it, mister.”

   “I haven’t been called ‘mister’ in a very long time.”

   “Then get used to it, mister.” She smirked, acting as if she wasn’t terrified of what was about to happen, of what she’d gotten herself into by opening her mouth. There was no one else to blame but herself.

   Was the Doctor blushing? He seemed to like the flirtatious nickname more than she’d been expecting, which opened up so many exciting avenues for future discussions. This was probably what she needed more than anything. She knew that he was doing his best to reassure her, along with calming himself down just as much. But to be thinking about the future, the possibility of it all, meant she was now thinking about surviving this whole ordeal. The sinking ship, the absent Tardis, the killer monster. The Doctor had barely said a word, and she was already starting to believe she could do this.

   “How do I go about explaining this?” The Doctor scratched his long chin. “I’ll have one device that’s connected to the headset you’re wearing. When I speak, that sound will be transferred directly to you. It’ll be like I’m standing right next to you, although I obviously won’t be. Skaldak would want to rip me to shreds as soon as I stepped foot in there, and I doubt the chains would stop him.”

   “It’s reassuring to know that the one defence I have isn’t as much of a barrier as I’ve imagined it to be,” she replied, her voice wavering.

   He kissed her gently on the top of her head. “Your defence is that you’re pure and good, Clara. You haven’t been forced to fight before. You haven’t been forced to…kill.”

   “But you have?”

   His expression was quick to darken. “Now’s not the time to be having this discussion.”

   “Talking about it isn’t going to taint me, as if your words could make me a soldier by proxy. I don’t want you to run away from who you are, or whatever you’ve done in the past.”

   “That’s a shame, because I’m very good at running from my problems.”

   “Then you’re unlucky that I’m here, because I refuse to let you do that. The last time you tried it, you lived on a cloud, and I’m not relocating to one of those.”

   “So you’d stay with me, even if I was sulking?”

   “I think I should be able to turn that frown upside down before we reach that point.”

   “I think you may have just invented that saying a good few years before it was originally used. You’re already changing the future, Oswald. And that’s even before you’ve interrogated our pal, Skaldak.”

   Her smile was weaker than she would have liked at the reminder of the job at hand. “Any tips?”

   “Stay calm. He’ll be able to sense your nerves straight away, so there’s no point trying to hide them completely. Being honest with your emotions is the quickest way to earn some respect from him. Try to connect with him, speak rationally and, if things don’t go well, get out of there as quickly as possible.”

   “At least I’m not wearing my old dress,” Clara attempted to joke. “I’d trip us soon as I started to flee.”

   “It’s nice to see that you’re still somehow in good spirits.”

   “Then I should have become an actress instead of a barmaid. I was always jealous of those people on stage, getting to live out fantasies in front of an adoring crowd. Well…mostly adoring. There was always at least one heckler.”

   “Usually when I’m the one performing,” the Doctor grumbled.

   “Is this thing supposed to be beeping?” She frowned at the piece of technology on her head.

   “It’s feedback. The professor’s music player was suffering from the same problem. Skaldak is attempting to send a message to his people using his suit.” The Doctor quickly picked up on the way her face fell, as if he could tell she was starting to comprehend the pressure resting on her shoulders. “You said you were acting but you don’t have to pretend for me, Clara. You’re allowed to be nervous.”

   “Yeah? And what happens if I make it clear that I’m basically shaking like a leaf? You’d immediately tell me not to do this.”

   “Is that such a bad thing?”

   “I think so. Tell me…what happens if I don’t do this? What could Skaldak do if he isn’t suitably calmed down?”

   “Well…he’d find a way to break free, and likely tear us all limb from limb.”

   “Then it sounds as if I don’t have a choice.”

   The Doctor was looking increasingly frustrated. “I don’t…I don’t want to put you in harm’s way. I don’t want this to become the norm. I’ve made the mistake in the past of letting people I care about believe they have to take risks to stay with me. You’re already falling into that same trap, Clara.”

   “You promised me, when we were about to start this mad adventure across the stars, that it was going to involve danger. I knew what I was signing up for.”

   “With the utmost respect, you really didn't. You didn't even know what an Ice Warrior was five minutes ago!”

   “From what I can tell, he’s just a bloke with a peculiar skin condition and stiff limbs that make him walk all funny. Let me assure you, I’ve had plenty of practice of talking down men who seem hell bent on picking a fight. Every night at the Rose and Crown, some lost soul wouldn’t be able to handle his drink and attempt to start something they’d lose. Until I swept in and dealt with it. The regulars knew to listen to me.”

   He let out a sigh, long and heavy with the past. “I’m not going to be able to talk you out of this, am I?”

   “You’ve saved me a few times now. It’s only fair that I return the favour every so often.”

   The sense of bravado that Clara had been feeling was certainly less vocal as she crawled through the circular doorway that led into Skaldak’s prison. It was a short journey as she scrambled across the cool metal, but one that still gave her plenty of time to second guess her decision. Why was she doing this again? Couldn’t they figure out a way to call the Tardis and bring it back? Maybe Skaldak was more reasonable than they were anticipating, and wouldn’t mind the hit to his ego. Clara wasn’t holding out much hope, but she pushed herself into the cold room with little grace nonetheless.

   The chamber was smaller than she’d expected, dark and ominous. Pipes rumbled around her, some of them smoking and steaming, making it almost impossible to see properly. At first, she thought the low hissing sound was coming from the creaking walls, before realising it was being made by her target as she approached. Most people would have turned back straight away, suitably frightened of the non-too-subtle warning. Her feet kept moving. She was curious now. She wanted to see this through, to prove to the Doctor that she was made of sterner stuff than onlookers usually gave her credit for. Even if the Doctor had repeatedly said that there was nothing to prove.

   There was another element too, as she thought back to what the old man had said. Skaldak had been trapped for thousands of years, taken from his home, taken from his time. It was hard not to resonate with the sentiment. Sure, she hadn’t been strictly taken , more volunteering to go along for the ride, but she was just as lost as him, just as confused, just as scared. Would such a creature admit to feeling terror? Was it even capable of experiencing such human emotions? Clara didn't know how aliens operated (who could blame her?), so she was relying on focusing on her own feelings, hoping that she could somehow connect to the so-called monster.

   “Ready, Clara?” the Doctor’s voice sounded in her ears.

   She jumped at the sudden noise, knowing that the startled action wouldn’t do her any favours in impressing the alien. She pressed the device closer to her head, enjoying the slightly spongy texture of the material. It was completely absurd, to be able to hear the Doctor as if he were by her side when a thick wall separated them, but the absurdities were becoming increasingly more common. It was also strangely…intimate, like the Doctor was whispering right into her ear. She thought about his mouth being that close to her, and she had to quickly refocus on her mind on the present task. 

   “This is going to take some getting used to,” she replied honestly.

   “I won’t speak very often, so as not to distract you. We can watch your every move.”

   “How?”

   “Let’s call it visual radio to save time. I’ll love explaining all the intricate details once we’re back in the Tardis.”

   “The Tardis you misplaced.”

   “She has a mind of her own, you can’t blame me! Now’s not the time, anyway. There’s a light to your left. Pick it up. It’s obviously best for you to be able to see as much as possible. Any sign of movement that puts you on edge, feel free to get out of there.”

   “Will do.”

   “You’re lying just to appease me, aren’t you?”

   “You know me so well.”

   “They send you,” Skaldak’s deep voice boomed across the confined space. “Do they think I will be lenient because of your appearance?”

   “They’ve sent me because they respect you, Grand Marshall Skaldak.” She’d been carefully instructed as to how to refer to him, in order to show the highest level of reverence. Clara felt that, if push came to shove, giving him his proper title wasn’t going to make the difference in him choosing whether to kill them all.

   “And yet I’m still in chains. Is this how humans show respect?”

   “I’m here to apologise to you because of that unprompted slight, to potentially reverse the damage that’s been done. And I’d argue that them being scared of you highlights just how understanding they are of your proud military record.”

   “Them? Are you not scared of me?”

   “Terrified.”

   Was that a chuckle from the monster? It reverberated around the room, crawling over her skin just as closely as the Doctor’s voice had soothed her. Clara refused to take a step back, to portray an image of strength in the face of her admission of fear. Being brave despite also being scared simply enhanced the bravery. That’s what she was telling herself. She kept repeating the fact in her head that the Doctor wasn’t as far away as it seemed, that he’d be able to save her if need be. When had she become so trusting in his impossible abilities?

   “You have every right to be scared. I was Fleet Commander of the Nix Tharsis. I was owed a legacy. I remember having my daughter stand by me in what was her first taste of action. It was my duty to show her how a noble soldier operated. We sang the songs of the Old Times. The songs of the Red Snow.”

   “It sounds beautiful,” Clara murmured. “Red snow, huh? I recently had to put up with some bloodthirsty snow, but that wasn’t red. It sounds magical.”

   “I’ve been trapped here, on this pitiful planet, for five thousand years. My daughter will be dust by now. Only dust will remain of her.”

   Clara’s face fell, not liking where the conversation was heading. “I can’t claim to understand that sort of pain. But I still believe that we’re similar, Grand Marshall.”

   “You compare me to your primitive beings?”

   “No, not the rest of the men aboard this submarine. Just me and you. The Nix Tharsis, you said. Did you leave home under its banners and head for the stars?”

   “We ventured across more galaxies than your small mind could comprehend.”

   For once, she wasn’t going to complain about being insulted. As long as Skaldak didn't push his luck. “I left home too. I’m not from here, not strictly speaking. My home probably won’t exist anymore, stuck in the past. It feels as if I’ve woken up and ended up in a different time, all because I wanted to see the stars.”

   “Time traveller?”

   “I’m learning to be one, anyway. And it gives me a special perspective. The Doctor…he’s seen it all before. But I’ve just woken up, just like you. I’m seeing things for the first time, and I could easily lash out out of fear. But I’m choosing not to. I’m choosing to understand my new place in the universe. All I’m asking is that you consider doing the same.”

   “You are right.”

   Clara, continuing to step closer, allowed herself a small smile. “I am?”

   “It is time I understood this new world. It is time I got the measure of my enemies, and what this vessel is capable of.”

   “Clara?” the Doctor’s voice came through. “What’s going on? Don’t get too close.”

   “Grand Marshall,” she persisted. “We were having a nice conversation. I felt like we were making progress.”

   Clara shone the light towards Skaldak’s face, thinking that his eyes were more dimmed than when he’d first appeared. Something wasn’t right, that was clear to see. Despite the Doctor’s protests, she reached out a hand towards the creature, jumping back as soon as the head toppled backwards. The body itself opened, the armour revealing that there was nothing living inside. Clara felt herself press up against the wall, her chest heaving.

   “Clara?” the Doctor shouted. “Clara! Talk to me!”

   “There’s…nothing there! It’s empty! It’s still chained but…I think it got out!”

   “Harm one of us and you harm us all, this I swear!” Skaldak’s voice seemed to be drifting from every angle, making Clara look around frantically.

   “Clara! You need to get out of there, right this instant!” the Doctor instructed through the headset.

   “I don’t understand,” she said, whilst heading for the door, trying not to notice the crawling and banging coming from the pipes around her. “If it’s out of its armour, won’t it be less dangerous?”

   The door swung open, the Doctor’s concerned face appearing before her and grabbing her roughly. “Skaldak is more dangerous than ever now. I’ve never seen an Ice Warrior do this before.”

   “Then we shall both learn new things today, Doctor!” Skaldak declared.

   Clara felt something rush past her as she clambered through the awkward hole, clinging onto the Doctor with all of her remaining strength. The captain was there, along with the professor, and they appeared just as alarmed as she was feeling. The only noise that escaped her lips was a nervous laugh, some of the tension leaving her body, with the knowledge that the immediate threat had disappeared. 

   “I’m sorry,” she said, the first thing any of them said. “I tried my best.”

   “There’s nothing for you to apologise for, Clara,” the Doctor assured her, wiping his thumb across her cheek. “You were brilliant. Just as brilliant as I knew you’d be.”

   “Really?”

   “I wouldn’t lie about something more important.”

   “What now, Doctor?” Zhukov asked.

   “All hands on deck. Your men won’t face a danger like this ever again.”

   It was only in the quiet that she noticed it. “Doctor…the beeping…it’s stopped.”

   “Which means that Skaldak is no longer trying to contact the other Ice Warriors. He didn't get a response. No wonder he’s taken such drastic measures now. He thinks he’s been abandoned and…well…from his perspective, that means he’s got nothing left to lose.”

Chapter Text

Men were dead. Several of them, that was for sure. Clara had heard their terrified screams ringing out across the vessel, had imagined what their expressions must have been like as they were ripped apart. The Doctor had made sure that she didn't see any of the mangled bodies they came across, scouting ahead whenever they ventured into a new part of the submarine. Under normal circumstances, she might have grown annoyed at the fact that he obviously didn't think she could handle such a sight (there were plenty of things in the London she knew that would have made the soldiers around them go pale). For now, she chose to appreciate the small act of kindness, the only one he could provide at the moment.

   The two of them were joined by Zhukov and the professor, who was by far the most talkative of the bunch. He must have heard her conversation with Skaldak, for he kept asking her questions about time travel, most of which Clara didn't know whether she was supposed to answer. Her repeated course of action was to look for the Doctor for advice, but he was always too busy scanning the area with his sonic to take much notice of her potentially dangerously loose lips. Over time, as the party of four continued to delve deeper into the ship, she started to understand just what the old man was doing by speaking to her so much. Just like the Doctor, he was finding a way to keep her calm, to keep her mind off the terrible things happening around them.

   Were people usually this kind to people they didn't know in the future? Or had she just stumbled upon an exception.

   “I’m sorry,” the professor grumbled, shaking his head after one of her responses. “But I’m struggling to believe that you could possibly be from a century before now.”

   “There’s a carnivorous lizard from space crawling through the pipes, but that’s where your imagination draws the line?” Zhukov asked, pointing his gun at said pipes when they creaked ominously.

   “How does that box work then? How does it travel in time?”

   Clara smiled. “I couldn’t even begin to understand that machine. That’s all the answer I have for you.”

   “Maybe I’ll get to look around, once you’ve rediscovered its whereabouts.”

   “The Doctor can be very protective of his ship, but I’m sure I can convince him to give you a tour. He struggles to say no to me.”

   “I do not!” the man in question protested. “I just normally… elect to agree with you. That’s not a crime, the last time I looked.”

   Clara leaned closer to her favourite member of the Russian crew. “He’s like putty in my hands. He doesn’t like to admit it, mainly because the power would go to my head, no doubt. Or so he fears.”

   The professor chuckled at her words. “I must ask…in your bygone age…did everyone learn to speak Russian so fluently?”

   She cocked her head to one side. “What are you talking about? You’ve been speaking English since we got here. All of you.”

   “Don’t be absurd,” Zhukov responded. “Why would we sully our mouths with that nonsense?”

   “But…but…” Her mouth hung slightly agape, and she looked to the only person who could possibly explain the strange phenomena. “Doctor? Am I speaking a different language without realising?”

   “Of course not,” he replied. “Well, not strictly, anyway. It’s part of the perks of having a Tardis. She has a translation circuit built into her systems, meaning that, wherever we go, as long as it’s a language she can understand, our words will be suitably changed to fit the requirements, and vice versa.”

   “I don’t remember agreeing to this.”

   “I didn't think to ask.”

   “That’s exactly the problem I’m highlighting.”

   “Next time the Tardis considers slightly altering your brain chemistry, I’ll get your permission first.”

   “Thank you. That’s all I want from you.” Clara paused, scrutinising him. “I haven’t been changed in any other way yet, have I? Because I won’t let you get away with that loophole, mister.”

   The obvious thing to note was that she had been altered, just not in the same fashion as her linguistic skills improving. She’d only been on the Tardis for a short space of time, yet her demeanour had changed all the same. She’d never lacked for confidence before, which was required when dealing with the drunk men London had to offer, but Clara could already feel herself being driven by a new sense of bravery, by a need to show the universe what she had to offer. A few weeks ago, she would never have considered approaching Skaldak on her own. Now…it almost felt like it was expected of her, a caveat to travelling with the Doctor, and so she would change in order to avoid letting him down.

   She was certainly more accepting too. She was currently stalking through a metal tube, deep under water, which was seen as a perfectly reasonable thing for people to be doing nowadays. Clara had to go along with it, otherwise she’d get left behind, and she refused to let that happen. It was a metal tube containing a murderous alien from Earth’s red neighbour, and she barely batted an eyelid. She’d seen a star up close and a city that boggled the mind, but it seemed to only be scratching the surface. It was a marvel, just how quickly she’d grown acclimatised to the strange reality the Doctor operated in. It was a marvel, just how much she wanted to stumble across more of the absurd things that life had to offer.

   As long as they survived their latest predicament.

   That was yet another way she’d changed, which had nothing to do with the Tardis, and nothing to do with an underwater escapade. Growing up, she’d lost her parents at a tender age. Friends had been hard to come by, because you never knew who to trust. She’d been forced to be increasingly independent over the years, understanding that she had to look out for herself, because no one else would. Then the Doctor had arrived, saving her from snowmen and ensuring she didn't have to look at massacred soldiers, all because he happened to like her. She was learning a new way of life, to trust someone else, to trust that the Doctor wouldn’t betray her or lead her astray. 

   To put her life in his hands, it was just as terrifying as anything Skaldak could throw at them.

   “Cross my hearts,” the Doctor answered, miming the action before getting back to his monitoring.

   The professor shook his head. “You both have such a wonderful grasp on the language, and yet I can still barely understand a word you’re saying.”

   “Trust me,” Clara responded. “I suffer from that most of the time too.”

   “I must say, you’re handling this a lot better than I expected you to,” Zhukov remarked.

   She arched an eyebrow. “And why’s that? Because I’m a woman? You didn't think I could keep up with you brave men?”

   “Not at all. You’re a civilian. You didn't choose to be a part of this conflict, but you’re still showing a remarkable level of bravery.”

   “You didn't choose to be hunted down by a terrifying beast either.”

   “A good point well made,” the captain sighed. “I just wish that I could understand why we’re being hunted down. I know that this creature believes we’ve dishonoured him…I can see why he’d believe that…but I’ve come across too many members of my crew, torn apart, barely recognisable from the men I knew. This feels more than just killing.”

   “Skaldak could bring a person down with one swipe of his claws,” the Doctor pointed out.

   “Then why go to such extremes? It’s unnecessary, cruel even.”

   “A lot of war usually is.”

   “I didn't take you for a pacifist, Doctor.”

   The alien straightened his back, turning the sonic off for a moment. “You already know that I’m as much a soldier as the rest of you, otherwise I would have been able to talk to our Martian friend before this mess escalated. I just understand where Skaldak is coming from. He’s woken up, far in his future, on a planet that makes no sense to him. He’s not just killing the crew, you’re right about that, Captain. He’s dismantling them, piece by piece, so that he can examine every part of the human race. Your strengths, your weaknesses. He wants to learn. There’s only so much time before he completes the lesson.”

   “Then what happens?” the professor asked urgently.

   “Well…the human race has a lot of weaknesses, most of which could be exposed by a fully armed nuclear submarine. But that’s just a hypothesis. One I desperately hope doesn’t come to fruition, otherwise this cold war is going to heat up rather quickly.”

   “That’s something that I still don’t understand,” Clara admitted, making the trio of men look at her.

   “What?”

   “How can a war be cold? Captain, you just mentioned willingly being a part of this conflict, but why? How did it start? What could possibly bring you to the bottom of the ocean?”

   Zhukov looked perplexed. “You mean you don’t know?”

   She rolled her eyes. “I’m not from around here, am I? I thought we’d established that enough times already.”

   The Doctor’s uneasy demeanour was easy to notice. “We don’t need to be having this conversation right now. Let’s save the history lesson for another time.”

   “It’s branded as a cold war because there’s no fighting taking place,” the professor explained, much to the Doctor’s annoyance. “Not directly, anyway.”

   “There are plenty of proxy wars though,” Zhukov added bitterly. “Being used like pawns in a game of chess.”

   The answers weren’t helping Clara in the slightest. “But…if you’re not fighting…then why are you here? Why aren’t you at home?”

   “Because we could be called to fight, at any moment. Brinkmanship, they call it. Two global superpowers, sporting opposing ideals, threatening to destroy the other if they so much as look at them funny. All it would take is one missile being sent, and the dominoes would fall. That’s why we’re here, Miss Oswald. We have to be ready for when the enemy strikes. If our backs are turned for one moment…it could prove catastrophic.”

   “Mutually assured destruction,” the professor said. “Billions would be wiped out if they went through with that policy.”

   “Can you see the damage that Skaldak could do now?” the Doctor put to her. “This isn’t just about the lives on this submarine anymore. If he learns about the warheads…the missiles sitting around us…he’d destroy the world with one push of a button.”

   “If you think this is bad, my dear, then I have some stories to tell you. I grew up under the shadow of the world war. The darkest days I’ll ever experience. No monster from outer space can terrify me when I’ve seen what humanity is capable of.”

   Again, Clara was left completely perplexed. “World war?”

   “Yes. The Second World War! I was nothing more than a boy, really. Roped into a conflict I didn't truly understand. I just knew that there was an evil that had to be wiped out.”

   “Doctor? What’s he talking about?”

   He wouldn’t quite meet her gaze. “He’s already said far too much.”

   The professor looked between them. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn't even stop to think…”

   “Doctor,” Clara repeated, more firmly. “What aren’t you telling me? What happens in the future? Because he said the second world war…”

   “It’s really not something you need to think about,” the Doctor told her. “It’ll only distract you.”

   “This is me wanting to think about. When you whisked me away, you wanted to show me the future. Then show me it. Show me all of it. Don’t hide things from me, Doctor. Otherwise I’ll kindly ask you to take me home straight away.”

   “It’s war, Clara. It happens. There was plenty of it in your time too, because humans never learn from history or past mistakes. They’re doomed to repeat those mistakes, over and over again. The world wars…they’re exactly what they claim to be. Conflicts that spanned the globe, decimating countries and civilisations and communities. The people on this submarine have been shaped by those experiences, and still chose to push the world to the brink of yet another war.”

   “Were you ever going to tell me about this?”

   “I’m sure we would have stumbled across it at some point. It’s too big a part of Earth’s history to avoid.”

   “And yet I’ve had to force the information out of you.”

   “What would you want me to do, Clara? Let you come into the Tardis and immediately tell you that the future is full of pain and suffering? That only a couple of decades after I met you, the world would be plunged into a war that would scar it forever? You would have gone running for the hills. I make the choice everyday to view the universe in as bright a way as possible. I didn't want to rob you of that so soon. I wanted you to see the beauty of the stars, not the size of the darkness around them.”

   “What else haven’t you told me?”

   That was the crux of the matter. The Doctor hadn’t lied, not strictly speaking. He just hadn’t mentioned something pretty massive happening to her own planet, twice. Was it reasonable for her to expect him to divulge such information? It wasn’t exactly the best topic of conversation, particularly between two relative strangers. But she’d grown to trust him, going against every bone in her body to do so. She’d started to believe that the future was bright. She’d seen the glistening city made of glass towers and smiling people. The Doctor had just failed to mention what it had taken to reach that point.

   He wiped his hands across his face. “Where would I draw the line, Clara? Should I list every bad thing to ever happen? Up until the end of the universe? Because I could. I’ve seen most of them happen. I’ve failed to stop them from happening. I don’t want our time together to be defined by the darkest points in history. I won’t apologise for that.”

   “I’m not expecting you to…but…”

   “This is difficult for me, Clara. I’m trying to see the cosmos through your eyes, and I keep forgetting the things you can’t possibly know. I’m starting to realise just how many horrid things are set to happen in your future, and I’m wondering whether it’s right to subject you to all that. You never asked to face these things.”

   “It’s part and parcel of this life, Doctor. I’m seeing that.”

   “But that’s the problem, isn’t it? I’m bringing you into this life, which is full of such evil and torment. Is that fair on you?”

   “You’re not…second guessing this, are you?” Clara’s bottom lip trembled slightly. “You’re not…thinking about taking me back?”

   “It’d probably be the kindest option.”

   “Look at how you fight amongst yourselves.”

   Clara was prevented from pleading with the Doctor to reconsider by the deep voice coming from the ceiling above them. The pipes were shrouded in steam and blackness, meaning they couldn’t see the creature that was obviously watching them. Even so, Zhukov raised his gun high, looking as if he would fire randomly, in the hope that he somehow caught his target. Clara wasn’t an expert on how the vessel worked, but she doubted it would be good for the metalwork to be pierced by a stray bullet.

   “You see enemies in yourselves,” Skaldak continued, his disembodied voice seeming to come from different directions with every word. Clara had seen just how quick he was, meaning it might have been possible. “Such foundations of distrust mean you barely represent a significant opponent. Destroying you would be sport, not warfare.”

   “Is there any honour in killing us then, Skaldak?” the Doctor asked, constantly twitching and turning. “We’re so far beneath you. Killing us would damage your reputation more than enhance it.”

   “My people are dead, Doctor. What is the use of a reputation when there is no one left to appreciate it?”

   “I’ve already tried to tell you that the Ice Warriors spread across the stars. They’re still going strong.”

   “Then explain why they haven’t responded to my calls, Doctor! No…there is nothing left for me to do but enact my revenge for the slight against my people. You attacked me. Martian law dictates that the people of this planet are forfeit. And I have learnt so much about how to make that a reality. Perhaps there is more information to be divulged. I am yet to learn how different your females are to the male populace…”

   It was pretty obvious who Skaldak was referring to, and Clara took a few staggering steps back, looking up at the looming darkness, imagining those piercing red eyes landing on her. If Skaldak wanted to kill her, just like the others, then there wasn’t much to be done. He was too quick to defend against, too precise in his actions. And if the Doctor truly was thinking about taking her home, then maybe it wasn’t the worst thing in the world to be slain where she stood. Because going back to her old life would be just like dying, she was sure of that.

   “You won’t harm a hair on her head!” the professor shouted, producing a smaller gun, taking Clara by surprise.

   His bravado didn't last long, with green, sinewy claws wrapping around his head and holding him tightly in place. “How interesting.”

   “No!” Clara yelled. “Please don’t hurt him! Please!”

   “You were willing to defend her for no tactical advantage,” Skaldak muttered. “You sacrificed yourself for someone you barely know.”

   “And I’d do it again, you monster,” the professor gasped.

   “You must wear that armour for a reason, my friend,” Zhukov declared, raising his gun at the looming figure. “Let’s find out, shall we?”

   “No!” the Doctor said loudly, standing in his way. “Captain, wait!”

   “I will defend my planet no matter what, Doctor! I will defend my men! I’ve let far too many of them down today. I won’t do the same for Grisenko.”

   “There’s still a chance of us all seeing reason, if we’re willing to properly talk.”

   “Fine then. We’ll negotiate from a position of strength.” The captain cocked his gun, prepared to strike.

   “Excellent tactical thinking,” Skaldak applauded him. “My congratulations, Captain.”

   “Thank you.” 

   “Unfortunately…your position is not, perhaps, as strong as you might hope.”

   The echoing sound of his suit’s heavy boots rang out nearby. Clara’s heart dropped, especially when she saw how pale the Doctor’s face was. If they couldn’t strike Skaldak down when he was unprotected, then how could they possibly think to stop him when he was reunited with his casing? The only positive was that, as he prepared to chase after it, Skaldak had let go of the professor (was Grisenko his name, according to the captain? She hadn’t had time to ask), who was breathing raggedly upon coming loose.

   “He’s summoned the suit,” the Doctor said needlessly. They all knew what was approaching.

   “But how?” Clara asked.

   “Sonic technology. The song of the Ice Warriors.”

   “My world is dead,” Skaldak said as he charged away from them. “But now there shall be a second red planet. Red with the blood of humanity!”

   Well, he wasn’t one to mince his thoughts.

Chapter Text

Clara couldn’t claim to know much about missiles. Nothing at all, in fact. But it was clear to see that what Skaldak was planning was potentially catastrophic. All she had to do was look at the Doctor’s face to understand the severity of the situation, his stormy expression unwavering as they charged through the creaking corridors. It was becoming quickly apparent that travelling with the Doctor involved a lot of running. Clara doubted that the submarine was designed for such rapid, uncontrolled racing, with its sharp edges and poorly placed equipment. She’d almost tripped over some sort of metal canister, with the Doctor absentmindedly reaching for her hand to keep her going.

   Time was against them, but he wasn’t going to abandon his manners.

   She was still worried about his earlier comments, about his apparent reluctance to keep their adventures going, but small things like that were fairly effective in reassuring her. Would he be bothered about her wellbeing in the face of a world-ending threat if he didn't care about her? Surely that meant he didn't want to see her leave, that it would take more to force him to drop her off back with the Latimers. Maybe his claims had been born out of the stress of the moment, heated remarks that didn't actually resemble his true thoughts. Clara knew how men could say things they didn't mean when they were distracted (or inebriated). Was the Doctor like any other man? In a lot of regards, definitely not. It was a matter of whether he was more similar to them than she’d first realised.

   The issue, of course, was that the Doctor did care about her. A great deal, considering how short a time they’d known one another. Clara had been given a brief glimpse into the torment of his past and how he was strongly dictated by the losses he’d suffered. Understandably, he didn't want to go through that all over again, but she’d thought she’d gotten him past that roadblock as soon as he abandoned his mystical cloud. The comments he’d made earlier suggested that she still had work to do. He was starting to understand her and her perspective, which meant he was starting to realise just how difficult it was going to be to help her navigate what was apparently a stormy future she was never supposed to experience.

   Clara wanted to be given the chance to experience, to test herself and to, perhaps, prove the Doctor wrong. It was just a matter of whether he was willing to give her that time. The longer they spent together, the closer they became and the more difficult saying goodbye would be. Was the Doctor truly considering cutting his losses, to save himself yet another teary farewell? Was Clara willing to have her life hinge on the whim of a man she didn't really know? Why was the possibility of it ending more terrifying than whatever the Ice Warrior could do?

  By the time they caught up to Skaldak, he’d reinforced himself with his suit, cutting a more imposing figure once again, albeit one that was less stealthy. There was no need for caution when the soldiers’ weapons had no effect against his armour, bullets bouncing off harmlessly as he’d strode through the vessel. All the same, Zhukov raised his gun in preparation for a fight, one he would likely lose in an instant. Clara reckoned that he was the sort of man who wouldn’t contemplate dying with bullets left in his barrel, though pride was truly the least of their concerns.

   “He’s arming the warheads!” the captain shouted as they skidded to a halt.

   The only reason they’d been able to catch up with the alien was because he had come to a stop, standing by a series of flashing machines. Clara knew there was no time for making sense of their purpose, just that the return of the klaxon and the ominous red alarm meant that his intentions weren’t wholesome. There was water leaking everywhere still and she felt droplets catching in her hair and running down her cheek, trying to obscure her vision. She wiped furiously at the offending water, doing her best to look strong and fearless by the side of the Doctor. 

   His hand was raised in what was supposed to be a placating manner. “Skaldak! No! Just wait! Please wait!”

   “The time for patience is at an end,” Skaldak returned. “The time for action has dawned upon us.”

   “Where is the honour in condemning billions of people to death? Five thousand years ago, Mars was the centre of a vast empire. The jewel of this solar system. Nothing could remotely compare to it. Five thousand years, and the people of this planet have only just begun to leave their caves and crawl out from the darkness. They’re nothing more than frightened children. Primitives in comparison to you and your species.”

   Clara raised her eyebrows at that. She knew what he was doing, of course. The Doctor was playing to Skaldak’s ego, bigging up the planet that the Ice Warrior was so proud of. But the words seemed to fall from his mouth far too easily, as if he believed them himself. As if the human race couldn’t possibly compare to the Doctor either, just as they paled in significance to the Martians. Was that how he viewed them? Was that how he saw her ? He’d branded them as primitives, infantiles waddling clumsily into danger. Did he think it was his job to be the one to guide them to safety, to avoid sharp corners and obstacles standing in their way? Was that why he’d whisked her away, since it gave him a chance to feel superior ? 

   “Who are you to judge them?” the Doctor continued. “They lashed out, yes. But acting out of fear shouldn’t be enough to condemn them.”

   There was another point that Clara was starting to pick up on. It wasn’t Skaldak’s position to judge humanity but the way the Doctor acted sometimes suggested that he believed it was his responsibility instead. When he’d looked at her, after he’d realised that she couldn’t possibly know about the future, had that been him passing judgement over her? If the human race wasn’t remotely worthy of praise one hundred years after she’d been alive, then what possible chance did she have to stand up to his standards?

   “I have every right to do this, Doctor! I am Skaldak! This planet is forfeit under Martian Law!”

   “There’s another option! Teach them! You could teach them, Grand Marshal! Show them that there’s another way. Show them the beauty and the kindness of the Ice Warriors, not the harshness of their boots. There is honour in mercy, Skaldak.” The Doctor’s breath was heavy, weighed down by the importance of him being successfully persuasive. “You’ve spoken at length about your mighty reputation, but is this how you want history to remember you?” He was getting dangerously close to the creature for Clara’s liking. “Grand Marshal Skaldak…the destroyer of Earth. Because that’s what you’ll be if you fire those missiles. All that blood will be on your hands. And not the glorious satisfaction of a soldier that should come with that. You would be a murderer. A butcher.” 

   Skaldak hissed, turning his attention back towards the machine. The Doctor lunged forward slightly, making Clara take in a sharp breath, but he made sure not to touch the Ice Warrior. Causing any further dishonour would prove fatal, for both them and the planet’s population. Clara could see just how desperate her friend was becoming, a far cry from the usually calm and unflustered, almost cocky, man she’d seen in action. It might have been comforting to know that he wasn’t infallible, if his missteps weren’t likely to doom them all.

   “Five billion lives extinguished,” the Doctor pressed on, no matter how little response he was getting. “None of them would get the chance to say their goodbyes. They wouldn’t even truly know why they were dying in the first place. A world…an entire world snuffed out like a candle!” Something in the Doctor’s expression shifted, the desperation turning to anger. With a quick movement, he was holding the sonic, pointing it at the Martian’s back. “Fine then, Skaldak. You leave me no choice. I’m a Time Lord! You know who they were, you heard the stories. You should know that I have a keen grasp of sonic technology, even more so than you.”

   Clara looked at the man who was trying to save them all, more focused on the mystery unravelling before her. A new piece of the jigsaw had been placed, a new tidbit of information that she could cling onto. A Time Lord. Was that the Doctor’s race? A unique title? By the way he spoke, it seemed more like the former, a group of people whose notoriety spread across the universe. Lords of time. It sounded ludicrous and pompous. She’d heard plenty about how stuffy lords could be. But it seemed accurate too. The Doctor controlled time and bent it to his will. If anyone was a ruler over it, then it was him. Had she left one aristocrat for another?

   Skaldak stomped in a slow circle to face the Doctor, who refused to back down. “A threat? You threaten me?”

   “No, not exactly. I’m not that foolish. I’m threatening all of us.” There was something eerily sinister about the Doctor’s tone now, as if he’d been in such a position before. “I will blow this sub up before you can even reach that button, Grand Marshal. Blow us all to oblivion.”

   The leap had been made. The dice had been rolled. There was no going back now. Clara could easily tell what sort of gamble he was taking, changing the atmosphere from one of tempered hostility to all out warfare. She, the captain and the professor may not have known much of what they were saying technically, but the subtext was clear. Zhukov had mentioned it earlier when he’d been describing the current war. Mutually assured destruction, in the hope that it dissuaded one side from attacking the other. The Doctor was using the present day and moulding it to his own needs. For a cold war, Clara felt the situation was particularly heated.

   “You would sacrifice yourself?” Skaldak asked, perhaps a waver in his voice, but it was so quick that Clara couldn’t tell whether it had been real.

   The Doctor raised his sonic to point it at the ceiling, at the whirring lights and blinking technology. “In a heartbeat.” The tip of the device turned red, making it clear what was about to happen if an agreement wasn’t made. The Ice Warrior’s finger hovered over a large button, Skaldak evidently willing to play the Doctor at his own game. “Look into my eyes, Grand Marshal. Look into my eyes and tell me you’re capable of doing this. Hmm? Can you do that? Can you really do that? Because you saw how Grisenko was willing to die for a person he barely knows. Just imagine what we’d be willing to do to save billions? Don’t test us, Skaldak. Don’t test the human race. Don’t test a Time Lord. Dare you do it whilst being face-to-face with me?”

   Skaldak’s heavy footsteps echoed against the metal floor, his snarling mouth only a few inches from the Time Lord. “Well, Doctor…” The helmet lifted, revealing a grotesque face with glowing red eyes. It was like an overgrown lizard that was somewhat humanoid. Clara much preferred it with the full armour on, not that she was going to say that. “...which of us shall blink first?”

   Clara sensed that the confrontation wasn’t going as smoothly as the Doctor would have liked. If he was able to take a risk in putting their lives on the line, then she was going to do the same. It seemed like the Doctor wanted to protect her from the harshness of the future, so this was an opportunity to show him that she could handle it, that she could face it head on. If she helped save the planet in the process, then that was certainly a decent bonus. As soon as she stepped away from the Doctor’s side, he was looking at her in alarm, silently screaming for her to retreat, but her legs carried her regardless of how shaky they were.

   “You hesitated. Back there in the dark? Why?” She gestured to Grisenko, who didn't look particularly pleased about being dragged into the conversation. “You could have killed this man without a second thought, but I begged you not to. I think you listened. At least a small part of you did, which was enough to make you pause. You still contain that compassion, no matter what you say, so why not show it now as well?”

   “You are wrong,” Skaldak responded. “I praised him for his bravery. That was not compassion. That was respect shown between two soldiers.”

   “And just like the Doctor said, humanity isn’t made of soldiers, so where’s that respect? It can’t exist.”

   “There is no use for respect in this dark future.”

   “I told you that I’ve awoken in a different time, very much like you, Skaldak. I’m petrified of what it could potentially hold. I’ve heard things about what I’ve missed, and my blood runs cold at the thought.” She glanced briefly at the Doctor, before resuming her staring contest with the less attractive alien. “But I want to experience it for myself before I judge it. I want to see how things have improved, instead of focusing on the negatives. Everything is so different. Just like the humans who wronged you, it’s tempting to lash out when you don’t understand everything anymore. The world…the universe…works differently now to what either of us could have imagined. We can choose to change along with it, instead of resisting its opportunities.”

   “What opportunities? My people are dead. My…”

   “Daughter?” Clara finished for him, taking another leap of faith. “If you press that button, every daughter on the planet is going to perish. You know what that feels like. You remember that last battle, with your daughter by your side, singing the songs…”

   “Of the Red Snows,” Skaldak said sadly, lost in the memory.

   “Don’t be the cause of that song finally ending. As long as you live…as long as your reputation isn’t tarnished…then the memory of your daughter won’t fade. As long as you live, the old world won’t truly be gone.”

   Clara felt that, much to everyone’s surprise, she was making progress, at least more than the Doctor’s more volatile approach. It almost looked as if Skaldak was going to agree, before the submarine rocked once again, somehow more violently this time. She expected them to start falling like before, hoping that she would be able to keep her balance more easily. Clinging onto the Doctor, she noticed how he’d done well not to accidentally activate the sonic in the commotion. Much to their relief, Skaldak hadn’t made any unwanted slips either.

   “What’s happening?” she shouted, wondering whether she was imagining things, because it felt as if they were rising, rather than plummeting further down.

   Skaldak looked to the ceiling, as if he could see through the metal. There was a distinct electronic whirring that was high-pitched and painful to the ear. “My people live! They have come for me!”

   “We’re rising,” Zhukov muttered in disbelief, staring at the gauges and tapping them to see if they were malfunctioning. “We’re rising!”

   As the vessel rumbled one last time, everything seemed to settle once more, even if the warning lights still flashed. It might have been possible to say that there was a smile on Skaldak’s face, though it was difficult to tell with his scaly skin and sharp teeth. The Doctor moved closer, evidently seeking to make the most of this unexpected opportunity.

   “We’ve surfaced,” he said. “Your people have saved us, Skaldak.”

   “Saved me, not you,” the Ice Warrior promptly corrected.

  “Just go, Skaldak…please…please, go in peace.”

   Clara couldn’t quite believe it as she watched the Martian slowly fade away in a burst of glimmering light, though whether that was down to him actually disappearing or the advanced technology on show, she didn't know. There was also an element of sadness there, in that she hadn’t been able to properly say goodbye to the creature she’d made a small connection with, although that was severely outweighed by the relief coursing through her body. 

   “Is that it?” Zhukov asked. “Is it over with?”

   The Doctor walked to the machine Skaldak had been tampering with. “No, no, no. It is far from over. Everything is still primed, ready to fire.”

   “But he’s not here anymore!” Grisenko argued. “He can’t press the button! Just turn it off instead of flapping around.”

   Clara felt that ‘flapping around’ was a rather apt description of the Doctor’s movements, but his stressed demeanour stopped her from audibly agreeing.

   “Sonic technology, professor. One single pulse from the Ice Warrior’s ship…that’s all it’d take to detonate the missiles.” The Doctor pressed the sonic against his forehead. “I’ll destroy us if I have to, I swear. Don’t make me do that, Skaldak. Please. Not again. Show mercy, Skaldak. Come on…I’ve seen worse people than you do it before…show mercy.”

   The locks turned. The lights turned green. Up above, further groaning could be heard as the hatches closed themselves. The Doctor ran a tired hand across his face, puffing out his cheeks and sending a quick smirk in Clara’s direction. She was still waiting for confirmation, as if the sudden change in his behaviour wasn’t indication enough of the choice Skaldak had made.

   “Now we’re safe,” he breathed.

   Clara swung her arms around the Time Lord (that would take some getting used to), laughing heartily in celebration. “I can’t believe we did it!”

   “Thanks to you…those were some wise words you had back there.”

   She blushed under the praise. “What can I say? I’m learning to adapt to the times.”

   “We haven’t completely finished though…”

   “What do you mean?”

   “You don’t think they could still attack us, do you, Doctor?” Zhukov urgently fretted.

   “No, no, nothing like that. I was mainly talking about the Tardis. We’re stuck here for a bit, I reckon.”

   “I think there’s worse places we could be,” Clara said. “Now we’re not constantly sinking.”

Chapter Text

Seeing her first, proper, actual alien spaceship almost made up for the constant terror she’d endured during their underwater debacle. Clara had stood on top of the submarine with the rest of them, staring up at the imposing sight as it soared high above them. The Doctor had given it a strange salute that she tried to copy (which he found highly entertaining) and she’d wondered whether Skaldak was looking down at them, or whether he’d already moved on from the annoying humans who had been a prickly thorn in his side. As the spaceship had started to spin, eventually shooting further into the sky and out of sight, Clara thought about whether she’d ever grow bored of seeing things like that. The universe had the capacity to be so brutal and destructive, as the past day and its revelations had shown, and yet it still contained such impossible beauty.

   It came as no wonder, then, that the Doctor was still finding new ways to be attracted to, and that she couldn’t resist being drawn into the endless possibilities.

   It seemed that their run of good luck wasn’t wanting to end either, with the Doctor soon revealing that the Tardis had landed on solid ground once again. The thought of getting back to the stars was an appealing proposition for Clara, since their last two trips had been Earth-based (not that she would ever complain about the opportunities being granted to her). All she wanted to do was chase after the Ice Warrior’s ship, although probably not too close. They’d already shown themselves to be quite a tetchy group of people, and the last thing they needed to do was aggravate them so soon after getting them to leave. 

   But having that freedom to flick a switch and fly with reckless abandon into space was tantalising, particularly with them being stuck in such a cramped space. Clara may have grown to like the surviving members of the crew, especially Grisenko, but that didn't mean she wanted to spend an eternity in a small metal tube with a bunch of men she didn't really know. A bunch of men who, it was becoming quickly apparent, had been too distracted to properly clean themselves. She had no idea what planets would smell like, but it had to be better than what she’d suffered through up to that point. It had been a sweet relief to be on the roof of the submarine, breathing in the fresh, albeit salty, air. 

   The bad news, despite the Tardis’ reappearance, was that it had chosen the other side of the planet to land, parking itself on completely the wrong pole. The Doctor had meekly asked whether the captain would be willing to take them, with Zhukov laughing in response. It seemed that that meant ‘yes’, since they were now abandoning their predestined route and chartering an unexpected course. After what had happened, it transpired that the crew were willing to help them out, returning the favour for their much-needed intervention. Even if the submarine needed a whole host of repairs, and the journey was going to take forever , it was still better than walking.

   The issue that faced Clara now was that, instead of running into the next adventure, she and the Doctor were being forced into a slow stroll. She was well aware that this wasn’t how the Doctor was used to operating, leaving him slightly irritable. Some of his responses were downright grumpy whenever he was spoken to, due to his unwavering impatience. For Clara, she was fine with waiting, getting a bit of a breather after so much adrenaline had coursed through her body. The problem, in truth, was that not being able to go headfirst into danger meant that she had plenty of time to consider some of the things troubling her. There were plenty of subjects that she needed to discuss with the Doctor, and there was no excuse not to bring them up since they were at a loose end.

   It was practically unavoidable, and the gnawing thoughts refused to leave her, but Clara was still terrified all the same. It would have been better to ignore the doubts for a short while, to pretend that they didn't truly exist. Because, if she chose to bring them up, the risk was that it would prompt the Doctor into telling her some hard truths she didn't want to hear. Such as him deciding that they weren’t going to work out as a partnership, because she was simply too stuck in the past for a wanderer of the future like him. It wasn’t her fault that she was from the time she was, but it also wasn’t something that came with an easy fix, creating a looming shadow that threatened to derail the new life she was hoping to build.

   They’d both been given separate bunkers to spend their time privately whilst the submarine made its way to their new destination. There were enough going spare to accommodate them, since such a large proportion of the crew hadn’t survived Skaldak’s wrath. The Doctor had tried to hide her from the clean-up operation once the dust had settled, with the slaughtered bodies deserving the respect they were owed. Even so, she’d heard quiet whispers of how some of them had been so violently disfigured that they couldn’t piece together which parts belonged to which person, and it made her stomach churn. The constant reminder of the consequences of this lifestyle wouldn’t fade away anytime soon, much like the smell.

   Clara knew which bunker the Doctor was in, once the bodies had been dealt with and some semblance of pleasant normality had returned. A lot of the time, Clara would perch on her uncomfortable bed, and consider going to see him. On a few occasions, she had even walked past his door, found it thankfully closed, and had chickened out of the possible confrontation before it had had the chance to begin. A part of her wanted the Doctor to be the one to initiate the conversation, as if he should have known what was tormenting her without her having to bring it up. So far, that hadn’t happened, the Doctor seemingly just as happy to live in blissful ignorance, refusing to think about them going their separate ways so soon after meeting.

   Sitting on her own, however, left to stew, was potentially worse than whatever such a chat could hold. It appeared that Russian soldiers didn't have a lot of designer instincts, rendering her cabin a blank, metal box. Naturally, the thought had flickered through her mind of decorating it slightly, with whatever materials a submarine had to offer, but that would almost confirm they were stuck there. It would be admitting defeat. So Clara continued to stare at the grey walls until they lost all meaning, and the Doctor’s presence didn't seem so bad anymore. 

   She made her way through the vessel, traversing corridors she’d been running down breathlessly not too long ago, keeping her head down as much as she could manage. An outside perspective may have seen this as a technique to avoid talking to any potential passers-by, not that there were many to bump into. But, for Clara, putting all her focus into each step forced her to keep moving. There would be no turning back as long as she looked at the ground, instead of the inevitable destination, as if she could trick herself. As if she could possibly arrive there by accident when it was the most purposeful thing she’d done in a while. 

   As the Doctor’s room came into view, her legs threatened to wobble, threatened to stop cooperating. His door was open, allowing his soft, musing thoughts to drift down the hallway. There was still the chance to run away. He didn't know she was there, unless he had some sort of mind-boggling piece of equipment that she didn't know about. For a few moments, Clara stood stock still, probably looking quite weird if anyone happened to stumble across her, breathing slowly and steadily. The final few steps were always going to be the hardest. But she was willing to fight to stay with the Doctor, and that involved being braver than she was feeling.

   Clara Oswald could be brave if she needed to be. 

   Her approach to the situation was to act casual, walking past his small living quarters as if she were going for a leisurely stroll, pretending as if she hadn’t realised who was there. The Doctor was sitting atop his mattress, legs tucked underneath him, fiddling with an intricate device that he occasionally waved the sonic screwdriver at. Clara made sure to slow her steps as she navigated the space of his open door, wanting him to make the first move. Acting on instinct, he lifted his head and a smile spread across his face, which had the sudden effect of removing a large portion of her nerves. Good. He’d basically instigated the conversation now, which meant it didn't look as if she were confronting him.

   “Clara!” he exclaimed happily, jumping up and abandoning the jumbled device to the scratchy blanket the crew had claimed was a duvet. “There you are! I was wondering when you were going to turn up.”

   She arched an eyebrow. “You could have come to see me if you were that impatient.”

   “I’ve been busy.” He gestured to the strange creation.

   “I think it’s hard to be busy on a submarine we have no control over, Doctor.” She was perfectly happy taking the bait, though, since it delayed the inevitable. “What are you doing?”

   “There was a clock in the room. Nothing fancy, especially compared to some of the time pieces I’ve seen. Imagine Big Ben, but double the size, floating in mid air, and every hour, a giant, living cuckoo appears to greet the public down below.”

   “Doctor?”

   “Yes?”

   “I think you’re getting distracted, as lovely as that clock sounds.”

   “It’s more than a clock, Clara,” he protested. “It’s a spectacle. I’ll take you to it one day, if I remember. My mind tends to go off on tangents without me realising and I can never remember what thought instigated the next.”

   “I’ve noticed.”

   “As for what I’ve been doing…well, I’ve done what everyone thinks of when they see a clock. I’ve done my best to turn it into a clockwork animal.”

   Clara peered more closely at it, and she had to admit that it definitely looked distinctly like a shrew. She was mesmerised by its moving functions and its ticking innards. “And that was more entertaining than paying me a visit?”

   “I’m planning on building an entire woodland scenescape, as long as I can get my hands on enough clocks. They’re not a common commodity on a Soviet submarine, for some reason.”

   “I think you might be going a little bit stir crazy, Doctor.”

   “It was always bound to happen one day.” He smiled, though it slowly fell away the longer he stared at her. “Is there a reason why you’re standing by the door, and not coming in?”

   “You haven’t invited me in. I don’t know what you think of me, but I’m a woman of propriety.” Her voice took on a more haughty tone, much like the one she’d used when working as a nanny. It felt strange to use it again, as if she’d abandoned that person along with her past life.

   “Consider yourself invited, Miss Oswald.” He grew more concerned when she still didn't move. “Is everything alright?”

   “I’m nervous,” Clara admitted, wincing at how pathetic she must have sounded. 

   He edged a bit closer to her. “You shouldn’t have any reason to be nervous around me! What’s playing on your mind? Have I done something? I have a remarkable record of putting my foot in my mouth without even noticing. How I carry on walking is beyond me.” He smirked but the attempt at levity fell spectacularly flat.

   Clara saw his pleading look and noticed that he was giving her all the space she needed to make her own decisions, not wanting her to feel pressured in the slightest. She appreciated the level of understanding, even if he couldn’t comprehend what she was going through. Then again, did he have alien powers he hadn’t disclosed yet? Could he read her mind, invading her privacy without having any need to make it obvious? She highly doubted that was the case, but there was so much that was unknown when it came to him that it was still a troubling thought.

   In the end, she injected herself with another dose of bravery and wandered into the room, not that it took many steps before she was in it completely. Seeking any comfort she could find, Clara chose to sit on the end of his bed, and the notion of being on his bed would have made most of the women she’d grown up with blush like the most vibrant of tomatoes. She told herself that this was a modern age, where being in his private quarters didn't have to mean anything. It was another way of silently showing him that she was suited for more time periods other than her own, that she could adapt one necessary. If he could read her mind, she hoped that he could pick up on those intentions.

   “So…you’re a Time Lord…” she began tentatively.

   Obviously, that wasn’t what the Doctor had been expecting. “That’s what’s making you so nervous?” By the scepticism in his voice, it was clear that he didn't believe that.

   Clara briefly looked at her intertwined hands before returning his gaze. “I’m building myself up to what we actually need to talk about.”

   “Okay,” he said, sounding as if he truly understood her strategy.

   “Although I am curious about how you go about becoming a lord of time.”

   “There’s a lot of training involved.”

   “Do you get a medal? Or a big hat?”

   “Fancy robes and giant collars.”

   “Can I see you in them?”

   “I probably burnt them a long time ago.”

   Clara cocked her head to the side. “Why?”

   “Because they represented something I no longer was, not truly. I didn't want to be defined by where I’d come from.”

   “Where is that? Which planet do Time Lords live on?”

   “Gallifrey, in the constellation of Kasterborous. Oh, it was gorgeous Clara. You would have loved it. The people, maybe not so much.”

   She edged closer, shifting on the bed whilst he remained standing. “You’re talking in the past tense.”

   “I am.”

   “Are they…?”

   “All dead?”

   “I wanted to be more polite than that.”

   “They are.” The smile he wore was a sad one. “They all perished, in a war that was too horrendous to properly put into words.”

   “Like the wars you were telling me about?” she asked, cautiously approaching the topic she’d truly wanted to discuss, without actually bringing it up. It was like a game of chess, although it seemed she only had about two pieces left.

   “Even worse than them.”

   “But you survived.”

   “I tried my best not to.”

   “Did you run off to a cloud afterwards, and close yourself off to the universe?”

   “Not then. This was a long time before you met me, Clara. I had to move on. Sometimes I don’t think I did that very well.”

   “The people you lost that forced you onto that cloud must have been really important to you, if you were still able to keep going after the war.”

   The Doctor looked at the floor, making Clara feel guilty. She’d dredged up personal experiences that had evidently scarred him, just because she wasn’t brave enough to come out and say what was really playing on her mind. Yes, it wasn’t technically her fault, since she hadn’t known about the war until roughly thirty seconds ago. But the guilt was there all the same. She’d seen how mighty the Doctor could be, particularly when he was forced to face an alien threat, but the man standing in front of her now couldn’t have been further from that figure.

   “I’m sorry,” Clara hastily added. “I shouldn’t be asking so many personal questions.”

   “There’s no need to apologise, Clara. I’m not completely afraid of opening up. If we’re going to travel together, then I suppose you should know who I am. Though I might ask whether we can drip feed information like this, instead of going through it all at once. That sort of trauma dumping could scare you off.”

   Clara’s eyes flashed with optimism, and a small sense of hope that was likely to hurt her in the long run. She still clung onto it regardless. “So we’re going to carry on in the Tardis together, once we’ve found her?”

   “You sound surprised.”

   “Because you were threatening to take it away from me not too long ago!” 

   She stood up, believing that a conversation like this couldn’t be conducted at two different eye levels. Even when she was on her feet, there was a considerable height difference but she raised her chin in defiance. The Doctor wasn’t going to get away with tormenting her even since he’d made those comments, and then act as if he’d never uttered the words. If that was the way things were going to work, then it’d be her pulling the plug on their adventures, rather than him. That change in mindset was enough to spark the adrenaline she needed to get things off her chest.

   “You’re worried that the future is too horrendous for me to experience,” Clara said. “I found out about the World Wars, and suddenly you were looking at me as if I was some sort of child.”

   “I’m getting the sense that this is what you wanted to talk about,” the Doctor quipped, far too relaxed for her liking.

   “Can you blame me? The idea that this could be ending has been petrifying me as soon as you mentioned it!”

   “You have to understand where I’m coming from, Clara. The friends I’ve had…they came into this lifestyle with experiences that better prepared them for what was to come.”

   “You can’t use that against me.”

   “I can, when I’m looking out for your wellbeing.”

   “I think that’s a load of nonsense, Doctor. Your friends…did some of them come from that futuristic London you showed me?”

   “...some of them, yes.”

   “Did you take them to the furthest reaches the future had to hold?”

   “...I suppose so.”

   “Then how is this any different to that? You’re worried because I’m different from what you’ve experienced in the past. I’m asking you to ignore that fear.”

   “You don’t deserve to see what the world becomes.”

   “Oh, because the planet was so brilliant when I knew it? Children working in factories, rampant homelessness, hardly any clean water to keep London alive. I saw what that city had become, with its shining towers and impossible vehicles. It may not have been perfect, but it was infinitely better than what I’d known. So I won’t let you take that away from me.” 

   “That was just a snapshot, Clara. Not everywhere is going to be as welcoming. Let me tell you, London, at the best of times, is far from welcoming. People would much rather look at their phones than talk to another person.”

   “You know what? That’s good. Because if the universe was already perfect, then there’d be nothing for us to fix, no adventures for us to go on.” She sighed heavily. “Doctor…you just said that, when you got rid of those robes, you didn't want to be defined by your origins. All I’m asking is for you to give me that same privilege. I may be from the past, from your perspective, but I’ve already shown that I can fit perfectly well in the future. I stood up to Skaldak, didn't I?”

   “You did.”

   “I really feel as if this can be brilliant. More than brilliant. Life-altering. And I get the sense that you feel exactly the same way. Perhaps you’re scared of me running into trouble, like the friends you don’t want to speak about. But you were brave enough to take me away. Don’t go back on that.”

   “Okay.”

   “Okay?”

   “Once we’re reunited with the Tardis, I’ll let you pick somewhere a little bit more exotic than the bottom of the ocean, and we’ll carry on running.”

   Clara’s mouth opened and closed a few times before she could properly form the words. “You mean it?”

   “Cross my hearts.”

   “Hold on…hearts?”

   The Doctor winced. “There’s probably some more things I should tell you about being a Time Lord…”

Chapter Text

In the end, saying goodbye was surprisingly difficult. Clara supposed she had been through a lot with the crew of the Soviet submarine, which was enough to create a strong bond. Or it might have had something to do with the fact that leaving the vessel meant facing the biting code of the ice caps, which was an environment the Doctor was a lot more excited to explore than she was. Dressed in so many layers that she’d practically doubled in size, and wearing a thick hat with equally insulated gloves gifted to her by the crew, Grisenko had given her a tight hug in farewell. She couldn’t remember a time when someone had embraced her with such innocent, unabashed affection. There was no ulterior motive in the action, unlike when some men had tried to grab at her in the Rose and Crown, just the old man telling her that he’d appreciated her company.

   “You better not be lying to me,” he’d remarked with that characteristic sparkle in his eyes. “Get yourself out of here and chase those stars for me.”

   “Nothing can stop me,” she’d deftly countered, sporting a warm smile. “Not even a great, big, lumbering Martian.”

   The professor had laughed. “I’ll do my best not to uncover any others during my excavations and research.”

   “You’d be sorely unlucky to stumble across another one.”

   “More surprising things have happened. I still can’t wrap my head around the notion that you’re truly from a century long behind us.”

   She’d arched an eyebrow. “Because time travel boggles the mind?”

   “No! Because you appear so comfortable in a time that isn’t your own! You’re the definition of a modern woman! No wonder the Doctor is so enamoured with you.”

   “I wouldn’t say that he’s enamoured with me,” she’d replied bashfully, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and hoping that the Doctor wasn’t so close that he could overhear their conversation.

   “The future you can deal with, but not something that’s starting you right in the face. Matters of the heart are usually the most vexing of puzzles.” He’d gently gripped her by the shoulders. “I wish you all the luck in the world…and the others that seem to be making themselves known…that you get to figure it out. I don’t want to admit that I’m more than a little bit jealous of the adventures you’re bound to go on, if the stories you’ve told me are true.”

   “You could always come with us,” she’d offered without really thinking about the proposition. “You haven’t seen the inside of the Tardis. It’s a lot roomier than you’d expect.”

   “Oh, Clara. You warm this old heart. But that’s exactly what I am: old. I can barely keep up with life in this world, let alone what awaits in the stars. I wouldn’t want to step on your toes. And, if I’m being brutally honest, I don’t think the Doctor would appreciate losing out on time alone with you after spending so long with the rest of us.”

   Clara hadn’t said it, but she’d been happy that the professor had turned her down rather promptly. The thought of the Tardis having another occupant wasn’t one that sat well with her, when she wanted the Doctor all to herself. He’d wandered back into the life of danger and fun because of her; it was only right that she got to make the most of that. And maybe there was a considerable part of her that wanted to explore the feelings Grisenko had hinted at, which could only be done if the Doctor only had her for company.

   Compared to the oldest man of the group, Zhukov had been a lot more restrained in his farewell, electing to give Clara a shake of the hand instead of any close embrace. There had been a smirk on his face, though, which wouldn’t have seemed possible when she’d first encountered the prickly captain. Instead of advice, Zhukov had attempted to bestow a weapon upon the departing duo, warning them about the threat of fearsome bears. The Doctor had quickly shut that down, not to Clara’s surprise, arguing that, if they got into any spot of bother, he always had the ability to talk himself out of trouble.

   How he’d go about bartering for his life with a formidable creature, Clara didn't want to find out. 

   After her much-needed chat with the Doctor, she was better prepared for leaving. She was once again eager to find the Tardis, instead of fearing its rediscovery, since it now signalled the prospect of new adventures, rather than being brought back home against her will. That meant there was a significant spring in her step as they disembarked, with no one ever being that happy to face the environment waiting for them outside. The good things was that the Doctor appeared to be just as giddy about what they were going to face, his energy infectious. Or maybe she was the one who’d infected him in the first place, which was what she chose to believe, because it meant she had some level of influence over him.

   Nothing could have prepared her for the freezing temperatures that greeted them once they were out of the submarine’s relative warmth. An icy wind managed to invade the protection of her garments, forcing her to draw them impossibly close. The only thing that would save her was the hope that the Tardis wasn’t too far away. The Doctor didn't appear too disheartened by the situation, which surely meant that it wouldn’t be a long journey before they discovered its polar whereabouts. Her current outfit likely didn't make her look very desirable, with her face squished by the heavy hood of her coat, so she was eager to have an excuse to take it off. Soviet chic wasn’t her favourite ensemble she’d tried on since joining the Tardis.

   The Doctor trudged through the snow, his sonic blaring away constantly, tracking his ship with increasingly high-pitched beeps. The rising noise seemed to suggest that they were on the right track, which had to be seen as a good thing. The Time Lord’s long legs meant that traversing the uneven surface was much easier for him, whereas Clara kept getting slowed down by the powdery substance underfoot. She could feel her toes threatening to go numb, clinging onto feeling thanks to the boots that were at least one size too big for her. If he noticed her difficulties, the Doctor didn't slow down, hell bent on being reunited with his ship. If anything, it put Clara in her place; the Tardis was his constant, long-time companion, whilst she was just the new blood. It would take a lot of time before she could even think of competing against that.

   “Are we there yet?” Clara complained, hoping that her voice was sufficiently carried against the wind.

   “Do you see a blue box in front of you?” the Doctor asked, sparing the time to briefly glance at her.

   It was quite strange to see her friend in something that wasn’t his tweed ensemble. His get-up was very much like hers, since Russian uniforms didn't leave much in the way of individuality. Spotting him without a bow-tie in sight was almost as absurd as walking across one of the poles, though Clara had every faith that, with one flourish, he’d be able to get undressed in an instant, likely wearing his usual outfit underneath. Waiting until he was back inside the Tardis to return to an essence of normality. His face was just as obscured as hers was, and yet she could clearly make out the annoyed impatience written in his expression.

   It didn't bode well for their chances. How long would the sun remain up? As harsh as the landscape currently was, it wouldn’t remotely compare with what it was like when it was dark. What would they do for shelter if the Tardis remained frustratingly out of reach? Had they made a mistake in leaving the submarine so soon? Surely the Doctor had a vague idea of where it was, and the Russians would likely be long gone by now, wasting no time in getting back home after the trauma they’d suffered through. Clara pictured her and the Doctor having to huddle close together to fight off the cold as night drew in…and suddenly it didn't feel like an error that they’d left comforts behind them.

   “I thought it’d be a short walk after abandoning the others,” she pointed out.

   “It’s as short a walk as I could make it,” he countered. “The sub could only go as far as it did, meaning we have to cover the rest of the distance on foot.”

   “If I have any feet to walk on by the time we’re finished. They feel like they’re going to drop off at any second.”

   “We haven’t been going for that long.”

   “Which is exactly my point. I’m not going to be able to survive for much longer, so you’re either going to have to find that blasted Tardis of yours or find some twigs to make a fire. I don’t know which one is the likelier of the two options at the moment.”

   The Doctor rolled his eyes so vigorously that Clara was able to see the response even with him wearing numerous layers. “I always forget that humans aren’t as temperature-resistant as my biology allows.”

   “Are you also the lord of heat as well as time?”

   “I’m regretting ever letting slip about my background, since you enjoy using it against me so much.”

   “I would have found out eventually. You can’t keep secrets from me. My face is basically irresistible.”

   She was testing the waters, of course, probing the Doctor for any sign that there were holes in her claim. Clara wanted to believe that there weren’t any secrets between them, even if she knew that it was a lot to ask of someone she’d only just met. And someone who was potentially a lot older than he looked. She was willing to accept that there would be some topics that stayed off the table, at least until they knew one another better, but she wouldn’t stand for any lies if those topics did find themselves cropping up in conversation. 

   Was everything going to be a chess game when it came to analysing her relationship with the Doctor?

   “If only you had this level of confidence in my ability to find the Tardis as you do in how irresistible your face is.”

   “Are you saying that it is irresistible then?”

   He spluttered for a moment, which was fun to watch. Almost entertaining enough to make her forget about the current situation. Watching such a powerful figure…a literal Time Lord…be reduced to a bumbling wreck was strangely reassuring. It showed that he wasn’t as alien as he might have been. He was just a bloke, who blushed whenever a pretty woman spoke to him in a certain way. Clara pictured just how awkward he’d been when they’d shared that kiss by the staircase, and smirked at how nothing had changed.

   “Don’t put words into my mouth.”

   “I don’t think I am.”

   “You’re distracting me from the job at hand.”

   “Which suggests that my face is enticing, if it’s enough to distract you.”

   “Are you enjoying this?”

   “It’s certainly keeping my mind off the possibility of walking across the snow forever.”

   “That’s not what we’re doing.”

   “That’s what it feels like.”

   The Doctor whacked the sonic lightly against his palm. “I’ll have you know that the Tardis is just up ahead. We’ll be flying off to unknown horizons in no time. You can even go in the sauna to regain some feeling in your toes.”

   “There’s a sauna? In the Tardis?”

   “It’s where I do some of my best thinking.”

   “Will you be joining me?”

   There he went, spluttering again. It was almost too easy. “I’ll be piloting the ship.”

   “That’s a shame.”

   Clara picked up her pace so that she could walk beside him, which meant doubling the speed of her steps as he expertly navigated the deepening snow. She nudged her shoulder against him, though, with their height difference, she ended up colliding with his waist and almost sent him spiralling to the ground. The image made her remember some of the times it had snowed back home, when children would frolic in the cold conditions, showing a level of carefree abandonment that she’d never been able to experience. It was the sort of childlike untroubled demeanour that she was hoping being with the Doctor would unlock. The sort of feeling that would make her want to push him to the floor so that they could make snow-angels, despite the fact that they’d likely freeze halfway through the process.

   Not to mention that, the last time she’d dealt with snow, it had tried very hard to kill her.

   “I don’t see a blue box,” she commented lightly.

   “It’s giving off a signal just up ahead.”

   “You say that…but we’ve got a pretty clear view of everywhere around us…and there’s no blue box.”

   The Doctor scratched his chin. “Give it a second.”

   “Do you really believe that?”

   “The sonic doesn’t lie. It’ll appear, don’t worry, like a mirage, an oasis.”

   “Aren’t those usually fake? The mad hallucinations of a desperate person about to die?”

   “Maybe it was a poor choice of words.”

   “Or maybe you’re trying to find anything to say that’ll stop me from panicking. Because the Tardis definitely isn’t here.”

   The Doctor sent another wary glance at the sonic. “A few more feet.”

   Clara stomped in front of her and he stopped to watch the performance. Hands on her hips, she glared at him. “Doctor…there is nothing of note around us, unless your Tardis can camouflage as a boulder made of ice.”

   “Well…there was a time when it could have done that.”

   “But not now, right? Please tell me we don’t have to check every clump of snow on this ice cap.”

   “Of course, not. That’d be a huge waste of time. The Tardis hasn’t had a functioning chameleon circuit for decades, mainly because I like her appearance too much.”

   “Doctor,” she repeated more pointedly. “Are we lost?”

   “I can categorically say that we’re not lost.” He was nodding his head slowly. “I know exactly what I’m doing.”

   It was at that precise moment that Clara’s world turned upside down. She hadn’t put a lot of space between them, out of a strange fear of somehow becoming separated. It was exactly that precautionary act that made the fear a reality, as an ominous creaking underfoot sounded. Before she could properly respond to the noise, the ground was opening up, swallowing her whole. A cavernous hole appeared and she had no choice but to fall with the ice and snow, tumbling down haphazardly, something akin to a rag doll. It was such an undignified way to go, but she was powerless to stop it.

   Mercifully, it wasn’t as large a drop as it might have been, and she was soon released from gravity’s teasing embrace, leaving her breathless on the floor. The floor that didn't make sense. Her head looking skywards, she could make out the hole that had formed in the ice cap. Whatever she’d been expecting to find underneath, it hadn’t been an echoey cavern, partially painted by the snow that had fallen in thanks to her clumsy presence. She groaned, knowing that there would be bruises decorating her body for weeks, with the significant layers of clothes not being able to protect her from all of the knocks, both to her limbs and her dignity. It was yet another example of her being sent flying from a standing position whenever she was around the Doctor.

   “Clara! Clara!” he was shouting frantically. “Clara! Are you okay?”

   His voice drifted down to greet her. He was looming over the edge of the hole, the harsh sunlight framing him like a halo. She waved at him playfully, pretending that she hadn’t accidentally come crashing down into what looked like a network of cave systems. Were they supposed to be there? It was pretty hard to make out some of the details, with the splash of light only reaching so far. It somehow felt much colder down there than on the surface, and she hadn’t thought that was at all possible.

   “I think so!” she replied, her voice weaker than Clara would have liked, but still managing to reach him. 

   “Hold on…I think…I think I can get to you.”

   Whilst she focused on recovering from the unexpected experience, testing out whether her limbs were severely injured, the Doctor used the remains of the crust to dance down to her level. He jumped over the jagged, rocky surface, navigating the terrain like a seasoned pro until he was jumping onto the flat ground. His descent had been a lot more graceful than hers, and he wasn’t hiding the obvious smugness he was feeling. Clara was sure that he wouldn’t have been silently gloating if she’d been properly hurt, but she didn't mind that teasing dynamic.

   The Doctor held her in his grasp for a few moments as he inspected her. “You must have triggered some sort of sinkhole.”

   “If you mention anything about my weight…”

   “No, no…it was more a matter of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. The surface was surprisingly fragile. I doubt anything’s walked across it for a while, meaning it’s been clinging on to the surrounding area. You inadvertently caused it to finally give way.”

   “Teaches me for leaving your side.”

   “Well, I’m not going to argue against that.”

   Suggesting that he wanted her to always be by his side, which was a possibility she wasn’t upset about in the slightest.

   “Did you pick up any injuries?” he asked, stretching out her arms with a surprising level of care.

   “Just a bruised ego.”

   “Mine was shattered centuries ago.”

   “You don’t act like that’s the case.”

   He smirked despite the insult. “That’s why they call it acting.”

   Clara returned the smile. But the day’s literal descent meant that she should have known that feeling positive about anything was likely to trigger something that wanted to change that. Such as the sound of scratching coming against the walls surrounding them. The sound of multiple things scratching against the walls, getting louder…which meant that they were getting closer. She brought herself closer to the Doctor, with the cavern quickly filled with the noise of what seemed to be teeth chattering, until the creatures revealed themselves and it became apparent that it was actually the gnashing of fangs, to be more precise.

   They were relatively small, but looked vicious all the same. Any beast emerging from the shadows in a location you didn't know had the power to appear monstrous. And the overwhelming number of their army was enough to leave the pair of them feeling pretty desperate, the Doctor beginning to pull her cautiously towards the rocks he’d just climbed. The creatures scrambled on four legs, looking like nothing Earth could produce, and she probably shouldn’t have been surprised about that, given the company she was keeping.

   She looked at the Doctor in alarm. “Maybe we should have accepted that offer of a gun after all.”

Chapter Text

 “Get behind me, Clara!”

   “But they’ll eat you!”

   “We don’t know that for sure!”

   “Have you seen the teeth they’re clearly showing off? They’re hungry, and we’ve walked right into their home.”

   “Technically, you fell into it.”

   Clara didn't want to take her attention off the swarming creatures heading ever closer, but the Doctor’s comment forced her to glare at him. “I can’t believe you’re blaming me for this.”

   “It isn’t about blame,” he argued, taking a few steps so that he was standing in front of her. “And if we’re about to get eaten, should we really be using our final few moments assigning portions of guilt?”

   “Is there anything we can do?”

   “Act confident. It always seems to work for me.”

   “I don’t think these… things care about stuff like that.”

   “There’s only one way to find out.” He was already starting to move away, leaving Clara rooted in the same spot, unable to move out of fear. “Clara, you’re going to have to learn that travelling with me involves a lot of leaps of faith.”

   “So far, it feels like that’s more accurately described as falling down repeatedly.”

   “We’ll work on your balance, don’t worry. That comes with time. You should have seen me in the beginning. I could barely walk straight most of the time.”

   “Are you making fun of yourself to keep me calm?”

   “Is it working?”

   “Not really.”

   “That’s a shame. Because that’s usually my main tactic.”

   The Doctor flicked open his sonic, casting its green glow against the cavern. The creatures, whatever they were, had slowed down somewhat, which had to be seen as a positive. Instead of their crazed surge towards them, their movements were now more tentative, as if they were scoping out the intruders. The way Clara saw it, they were still getting closer, no matter the speed, and that was a situation she wanted reversing. But the Doctor was apparently of a different mind, which didn't come as much of surprise, walking further away from her to greet their unorthodox hosts. 

   In the better light, Clara was able to make out more of their features. Their diminutive forms could have been described as shrunken down people, if it weren’t for the menacing rows of teeth and bulbous eyes. Their ability to crawl over the walls in any direction was also another reason why the comparison fell apart, moving more like spiders, even if they only had four limbs. But away from the fangs, it was the eyes that focused Clara’s interest, observing their curious gaze as they all honed in on the sonic’s luminescence. As long as they weren’t attacking them, the creatures could almost be described as cute, if one had a soft spot for slightly deformed specimens.

   “I think they might like you, Doctor,” Clara risked saying, knowing it was tempting fate. Every time they’d appreciated the relative calm, the storm hadn’t been too far behind.

   “It’s the sonic they’re interested in,” he explained. “Not me. I’m basically an afterthought at the moment, and I’m trying not to be insulted about that.”

   “I wouldn’t be complaining. Would you rather have them swarming around you?”

   “Good point.”

   Clara cocked her head to one side, always curious. “Do you know why they’re so fascinated by the sonic?”

   “Perhaps they’re acutely honed to the high pitched sound waves it’s producing. There are plenty of species across the universe that communicate on those particular wavelengths.” The Doctor appeared to squint his eyes, studying them in fascination. “But I think it’s more than that. It’s almost like they…recognise the technology.”

   “Have you met them before?”

   “Never. I reckon I’d remember that although, after all these years, maybe it’s natural that I’d start to forget things.”

   “Perhaps they’re from that planet of yours. What did you call it? Gallifrey?” It wasn’t something that she was likely to forget, but she also wanted to appear fairly casual about the information, as if she couldn’t make it clear that she was obsessed with every personal detail he shared with her.

   “Sadly not. We’re not going to run into anything from the place, even if these were one of the indigenous life forms.”

   “But they’re definitely alien, right? Humanity would know if these things existed right next door.”

   “How many people have come to the far reaches of the planet? A handful. I’ve met a lot of them. Helped them reach their destination a few times. What are the chances that they would have accidentally stumbled into a place like this? It could be entirely possible that they’ve been here for a very long time. Just think about how many unknown species there are in the deepest depths of the ocean…”

   “I don’t think I want to,” Clara answered with a shiver.

   “There’s also the chance that humanity has known about them.”

   “I would have heard about that. Unless…it’s something that comes in the future.”

   “Small, fairly-human looking creatures, only living at the pole? I’m fairly certain that the folklore around elves existed in your time.”

   “You’re joking.”

   “I’m hypothesising, running through all the infinite possibilities. Could one of those explorers ventured here, discovered them, and then shared the story once they were back home? People wouldn’t have believed the tales, but that doesn’t necessarily stop them becoming myths.”

   “It’s quite reassuring.”

   “How so?”

   “Well, if an explorer was able to get to return after meeting them, that means there’s a chance they don’t want to eat us.”

   “Oh, if they’d wanted to do that, they would have done so by now. Have you seen how many of them there are?”

   “I may have picked up on that, yes. I don’t want to sound ungrateful…but why aren’t they attacking us then?”

   “They might be vegetarians for all you know. Or…” He twisted his sonic, echoing the same beeping noise they’d been following since abandoning the submarine. “...they have a reason to trust this technology.” The Doctor quickly glanced back in her direction, giving her an encouraging smile. “Are you going to stand there all day? Come on, we need to head deeper.”

   “You can’t be serious.”

   “The only way to find out things is usually by going headfirst into the lair.”

   “It’s also the best way to get killed.”

   The Doctor was evidently choosing to hope for the best, because he was slowly walking deeper into the network of caves with Clara’s useless warning echoing in his ears. She wasn’t prepared to be left alone, especially since it was his sonic that was providing most of the light. The only thing worse than being in their current location, was being there whilst in the dark. So she followed his illuminated silhouette, amazed to find that the creatures were doing exactly the same. Their forms scratched against the walls of the rockface, edging in the direction the Doctor took. The beeping of his device grew in tempo, seemingly proving that he was on the right track.

   His smug look was almost enough to make her turn around, to avoid giving him the satisfaction of admitting that he may have been right, but Clara was by his side as they rounded one particularly large corner. As they moved past the rounded wall, they walked into a larger chamber, one that dwarfed the one they’d initially found themselves in. And, right in the middle of the open, gloomy space was a familiar blue box, standing there as if it were a perfectly reasonable spot for it to be occupying. Clara shouted out in triumph, clapping her hands together and appreciating just how loud the echo was that she created. It made her feel powerful, before realising that making too much noise would likely disturb their anxious escort.

   The Doctor, in the meantime, was smiling at the sight of his ship, his home , whilst also paying suitable attention to what lay behind it. As they walked closer, it became apparent that the cavern wasn’t as empty as they’d first thought, with a silver, cylindrical… thing making the Tardis look tiny in comparison. Clara had no clue what it was, observing its sleek, minimalistic design. There was one thing for certain: it wasn’t human in origin, which seemed to quell the Doctor’s theories about discovering a brand new local species. She wasn’t going to remind him about that, knowing he’d end up looking like a wounded puppy.

   “I think I know how our friends got here,” he said quietly, staring up at the mammoth object.

   “Is it a ship?” she asked.

   “A fairly rudimentary one at that. And one that’s been out of action for quite some time.”

   “How did it get here?”

   “Like any unexpected UFO, it must have crashed.” He tapped the sonic against his forehead in realisation. “That explains this entire cave network. They’re not really caves! They’re scars on the landscape, the path this ship must have taken when it collided against the surface. It’s been down here for so many years that the ice was able to patch itself up, but only superficially. That’s why you fell through. It wasn’t a sinkhole. It was the exact spot the ship crashed.” 

   “Just my luck,” Clara grumbled.

   The Doctor was too busy looking at their surroundings. “It must have been going at some speed. The tunnel stretches on for a considerable distance from the point we’ve come from. Even the ground wasn’t enough to slow it down right away.”

   “But if it’s been down here for years, as you claim, then why have these creatures stayed here with it?”

   “Are you doubting my suggestions?”

   “I wouldn’t say doubting …more like questioning.”

   “Good,” the Doctor said with a nod of his head. “Because one of the reasons why I wanted you to travel with me is that I know you’ll never just accept what I have to say. You’ll question everything that comes out of my mouth, and that should hopefully ensure I get things right more often than not.”

   Clara put her hands on her hips. “So I’m a tool, in a manner of speaking?”

   The Doctor looked at her warily. “You’re someone who’ll keep me on my toes. Trust me, I need that. Otherwise things will grow stale and I’ll lose my edge. The universe wouldn’t survive the fallout.”

   She hummed dangerously, knowing that the Doctor was toeing an extremely precarious line. “Do you have any theories on why they’ve been hunkered down here for so long?”

   “Maybe they just like the dark.”

   “They were attracted to the glow of the sonic though.”

   “Good point.”

   “And what would they have eaten all this time? I doubt there’s a lot of food down here.”

   The Doctor pulled a face. “I was hoping you wouldn’t pick holes in my theories to this extent.”

   “Then maybe you should get a better tool .”

   “I never said that, Clara!” He bit his lip. “You know, there’s probably an easy way of finding out the truth behind events.”

   “I thought that was what sneaking into the lair was all about.”

   “Yes. And once you’ve done that, you have to speak to those in charge.”

   Clara pondered that for a couple of seconds. “You’re not really considering…trying to talk to them, right?”

   “Why not? I’m pretty certain I can work out the language. If they have one. I’m sure they’ll have one.”

   He only took one step towards the closest wall, covered by the crawling creatures, before Clara spoke up. “Don’t.”

   “Don’t what?”

   “Don’t get too close. Because that’s when they’ll pounce and I doubt I can pilot the Tardis on my own, if I’d even be able to reach it.” The creatures had already shown their rather nifty pace.

   “I’ll be careful. Cross my hearts.”

   He mimed the action, bringing both hands to either side of his chest, before turning around and assuredly striding towards his desired spot. The aliens moved accordingly, shifting across the wall to appreciate the glow of the sonic up close. Clara watched all this happen with bated breath, not knowing whether to be thankful that they were so focused on the Doctor, meaning that she wasn’t of any interest at the moment. She quickly looked over to the Tardis, trying to figure out how quickly she could get to it, and get to safety in the process. But she stood firm, refusing to abandon the Doctor, even if it would be his own stupidity that got himself killed.

   She didn't know how to react when one of the creatures began to click, making a series of sounds that seemed to vaguely resemble some form of communication. She was completely baffled when the Doctor recreated the noises, clicking his tongue at different speeds and pitches, like he was truly having a conversation with them. Clara watched the back and forth in fascination, trying to decipher anything from the discussion, trying to figure out whether it was actually a load of nonsense. If this was a practical joke on the Doctor’s behalf, then it was a lot of effort to go to. 

   For the chat’s duration, she couldn’t tell whether any progress was being made between the two sides, with other members of the strange species chiming in every now and again, like a proper debate. If there was progress, then she also couldn’t tell whether it was good or bad, although there was a lot of nodding of heads, which had to be a good thing. Unless that movement actually meant something completely different wherever these aliens were from, and it signalled their growing desire to rip them apart. But then the Doctor was turning back to her, all smiles, like a goody toddler excited to share a tidbit of niche information that would inevitably bore its parents.

   “I was right,” the Doctor said. “The ship did crash here. Although they don’t know for how long…”

   Clara held up a hand. “I’m sorry but…you just spoke to them.”

   “Yes.”

   “And that’s a perfectly normal thing to do?”

   “I’m not some tourist, Clara, looking at a menu and shouting out what I want because I don’t think the locals will understand.” He tugged at his bowtie, straightening it. “I’m somewhat of a pro when it comes to this.”

   “You’re just loving getting this opportunity to show off in front of me.”

   “It’s one of the other reasons why I invited you aboard the Tardis. Do you know how difficult it is to impress yourself ? From personal experience, let me tell you that it’s not fun. I’d always scowl at myself in the mirror.”

   “Doctor…you were telling me about what happened here…” She smirked at how easily distractible he was, one of the traits she was growing to admire, growing to love .

   “Right, sorry. That’s a rabbit hole I shouldn’t be looking down.” He shook himself, snapping him right back to reality. “The ship…it’s not just a ship, it’s a nursery! An intergalactic nursery!”

   “How would that even work?”

   “From what I’ve been able to gather, the adults of their species aren’t the best with children, so they cart them off to boarding school until they’re mature. It’s like what the rich elite tend to do, that sort of thing. Except that this particular ship suffered a major malfunction. It was diverted off course and ended up here, as you’ve already seen.”

   Clara looked at the creatures in a significantly new light. “You mean to tell me that they’re…children?”

   The Doctor’s expression softened. “I’m afraid so. And a long way from home. The only positive is that they’ve been asleep since the crash, frozen within the ship. A bit like our old friend Skaldak. It was only the arrival of the Tardis that ended up reactivating the systems, due to the temporal energy she was producing. The old girl inadvertently woke them up. So the sonic was right to track her here. She was just more underground than we might have expected.”

   “Just imagine if she’d chosen another place to land. They would have been stuck here…forever.”

   “Potentially. But I like to think that she came here purposefully, to help them.”

   “Do you think she’s capable of that?”

   “I think she’s capable of more brilliant things than we can imagine. At least this shows I wasn’t wrong to implement the HADS.” He grimaced at the sight of Clara’s glare. “But maybe I’ll switch them off once we’re back inside.”

   “Thank goodness.” She smirked at his obedience. “You said that we’re going to help them…I’m almost afraid to ask how we’re going to do that.”

   “Well, I’ll be able to get a lock on their home using the Tardis. I don’t often like to be a taxi service, but I can make exceptions for special circumstances.”

   “We’re going to take them home?” Clara was already picturing just how chaotic it was going to be, trying to wrangle them in the right direction.

   “Clara Oswald…how do you feel about visiting your first alien planet?”

Chapter Text

 Travelling in the Tardis was always a chaotic experience, even if Clara had missed it a great deal during its absence. But travelling in the Tardis whilst it contained a horde of tiny aliens was on a whole other level. No matter how short the journey was - at least when measured in the length of time it took, rather than the countless lightyears they were likely traversing - it was one spent on tenterhooks. The Doctor especially was on high alert, constantly watching the creatures as they roamed about, crawling over things that probably shouldn’t have been used in that manner. His precious ship had become an ark of sorts and he was acting as if the newcomers had the potential to tear it piece from piece.

   There was good reason for that fear, given the creatures’ fangs that still protruded from their mouths, even if they were being helped out. Clara wondered if they were cursed to look like that all the time, even when they wanted to appear friendly. Every claw mark that was left on the console, every scrape that sounded, the Doctor grew more agitated, whispering sweet nothings at the controls before him as if that would appease his seemingly sentient home. Having already experienced how temperamental the Tardis could be, Clara doubted that his efforts would prove successful and, as the journey continued, she grew more nervous that the impossible blue box would kick them out once they arrived and leave without them.

   “You’re going to need a cleaner,” she’d pointed out.

   “For what?” he’d asked, clearly distracted by the strange events unfolding.

   “The absolute carnage that this lot is wreaking on your poor Tardis.”

   The ship in question had chimed in agreement, making Clara feel quite proud. It was a constant battle to win over the Tardis’ approval, which was a strange concept to wrap her head around when the approval was coming from a machine. But, as long as she kept the Tardis happy, then that went a long way in ensuring she stuck around for the long run. Especially after she’d been sure the time machine had been messing with her at certain points, zapping her hand whenever she reached for the controls or moving rooms around when the Doctor asked her to find something.

   “I’ve never employed a cleaner and I won’t start now!” It seemed like a strange point of pride.

   “Well, I’ll definitely not be volunteering my skills. I was a governess, not a maid.”

   “I wouldn’t expect you to do that.”

   “Then it’s good we’re on the same page.”

   “After all, the Tardis can make any necessary repairs herself. Adding your efforts to the mix would probably cause more damage than good.”

   Clara had been left considering the possibility of simply kicking the Doctor out herself once they landed and leaving without him. It was an entirely appealing prospect, particularly with the growing pile of evidence that the Time Lord had obviously forgotten how to talk to people politely after spending so much time on his cloud. 

   The Doctor had told her on a number of occasions that there was nothing to worry about in terms of their personal safety, but Clara still couldn’t feel too relaxed with so many of the tiny terrors swarming around them. The already dark console room was made to be much gloomier as the creatures clambered over the lights, and it likely signified the mood the Tardis was in. They didn't even know what the species was called, which made it more difficult to communicate with them (not that Clara could even begin to put together the right clicks and pops as the Doctor had shown off previously). When she’d brought this up with the Time Lord, he’d claimed that, from what he could tell, the creatures didn't even know their collective noun, suggesting that the education system had fallen into disrepute as soon as the ship had fallen into the ice. 

   At one point, in an act that might have been considered somewhat friendly, one of the critters decided to climb up her back without asking for permission first. Clara would have liked to have said that she reacted calmly, in a manner that befitted the potential time traveller she wanted to become, but, as soon as its claws got caught in her mane of hair, her fragile composure shattered. Shouting loudly wasn’t the most dignified of responses, but it had been effective. The Doctor had rushed over promptly, gently extricating the now panicked creature from her hair and soothing it afterwards. The Time Lord was evidently more concerned with the beast’s wellbeing than hers, a possibility that had her seething before she remembered they were dealing with a bunch of children. In that frame of mind, the Doctor’s tender care for the orphan was rather heartwarming, leaving her staring at him far too blatantly.

   Thankfully, he was too engrossed in cooing at the small, ugly alien to notice.

   Clara still wasn’t about to cuddle them like he was, regardless of how torrid their backstory was.

   By the time the ship landed, the sound brought about a great sigh of relief from her lips, smiling encouragingly at the Doctor. He’d been just as excited at the arrival, but whether that was down to the fact that they were one step closer to helping the creatures or because it meant they’d be back on their proper adventures, Clara couldn’t tell. Whatever the reason, he was bounding towards the doors, flinging the doors open with reckless abandon. And, as soon as he’d done that, the swarm moved as one, racing straight for the exit, clambering over any surface that was available. Clara had chosen the tactic of making herself small and covering her head until the chaos ended, before she felt a small tap on her shoulder.

   “Honey, they’re home,” the Doctor said, his smiling face looking down at her.

   Clara gratefully accepted his proffered hand. From the smirk dancing on his lips, she gathered that his words were some sort of reference, one she didn't understand for obvious temporal reasons. But the sensation of hearing him talk to her with what sounded like a pet name, a term of endearment, was enough to make her heart race. Normally such a confident person, Clara’s palms were left feeling embarrassingly sweaty. If the Doctor noticed, he didn't make a comment nor pass judgement. They shared a look, smiling at something private and unsaid.

   It was such a tender moment that she almost considered doing something more , but then her gaze landed on the horizon that was framed by the still open doors. She walked slowly in its direction, mesmerised by the sight. Her first alien planet, as promised. Unlike anything she’d laid eyes upon before. If Clara had expected impossible structures and flying vehicles, she didn't get her wish. It was quite an arid landscape, with rust-coloured rocks littering the ground like a desert. The surface was mainly red, though there were flashes of purple laced into the rocky foundations. In the far distance, she could spot some of the creatures who were yet to disappear scurrying into holes in the ground, eventually leaving the surroundings to be quiet.

   “Where are they going?” she asked, frowning at the odd behaviour. Perhaps all aliens were just as strange.

   “Judging by what we can see…and based on the technology their damaged ship possessed…I reckon the heart of their civilisation is actually underground,” the Doctor said. “Because this landscape doesn’t match what they’d need to build interstellar spacecrafts.”

   “I can’t imagine them building anything .”

   “They’ll probably be much bigger once they’re fully grown. And we’ve given them the opportunity to reach that age. Even if it was down to pure happenstance.”

   Clara grimaced. “I don’t want to imagine them being larger. I’ll have nightmares.”

   “You never know, they might become dazzlingly attractive upon maturity. We all go through an ugly phase.”

   “I didn't,” she argued with a grin. “I was an adorable kid.”

   Clara continued to look at the planet. The planet , a completely different one to the one she’d known. She would never feel this again. It was her first. There would be no replacing that. A lot of people likely would have viewed it as boring, especially if said person was as experienced in travelling as the Doctor was. She imagined what he was thinking, whether he believed it was dreadfully dull compared to the things he’d seen, but she saw a glimmer in his eyes. A childlike wonder that was most definitely replicated in her own gaze. 

   “Can I…take a step outside?”

   “Only a few,” the Doctor answered cautiously. “The Tardis has been analysing the atmosphere and it’s certainly not the most hospitable we’re going to come across. No wonder our small friends were quick to head underground.”

   “It’s dangerous then?”

   “Only if you run off, which I don’t think you’re going to do.” He glanced at her warily. “Right?”

   “I promise not to run away like some uncontrollable dog.”

   His expression transformed into one of alarm. “I wasn’t…I mean…I didn't…um…I didn't mean to make you see yourself like that.”

   Clara nudged him playfully. “Are you ever going to make it more difficult for me to wind you up?”

   “Probably not,” he sighed.

   With another smirk, Clara left his side, dangling a foot outside the safety of the Tardis’ perimeter. Even so, she made sure to still maintain contact with the Doctor, clinging onto his tweed jacket until she was sure that she was on firm ground. It was as if she believed she would simply float away if she let go and, since she wasn’t an expert on the matter, it was entirely possible that that would happen so she wasn’t going to take any chances. For what it was worth, the Time Lord didn't appear displeased about her tight hold on him, watching her movements with more interest than he was giving the landscape.

   After a further beat of hesitation, Clara allowed her foot to land, followed by the other. Once she realised that she wasn’t soaring away, she loosened her grip on the Doctor, completely cutting herself from the tether of normal reality. If flying in a time machine with a handsome alien was normal. She gently moved her feet to kick up the hard sand of the ground, admiring the footsteps she was making. Prints that would perhaps be permanent, a small reminder of the moment, a mark of the first person to visit the planet. Or so she hoped. The strangest thing of all was that the ground didn't feel different to what she was used to. She’d almost expected it to be spongy or for it to morph around her steps like a liquid. 

   Clara giggled at the sensation of being somewhere completely unimaginable, feeling utterly powerful. A few meagre steps had thrilled her to no end and she couldn’t comprehend what the feeling would be once she found a planet she could properly explore. Despite the Doctor’s pointed warning, there was the temptation to just run and run, to see what secrets the planet had to offer. It explained why the Doctor had laid down the rule so promptly, as if he’d known that the desire would show itself. Perhaps it was a burning need that consumed him too, one he was familiar with, since he’d supposedly been running all his life, according to the stories he’d shared.

   She looked back at him. “How is this possible?”

   “Do you want me to go into the science of how a planet forms? Because I’d love to give that lecture. The high point of my week is when I get to make a lecture like that.”

   “Perhaps a rain check on that?”

   “Your loss.”

   “I was wondering more about how, if the planet is as inhospitable as you claim, I can be standing here? Surely I should have shrivelled up and burnt, or something along those lines.”

   “You’ve got quite a dark imagination, Clara Oswald.”

   “You didn't grow up in the London I know, Doctor.” 

   “The answer is quite simple, really. I extended the Tardis shields to protect us from the toxic atmosphere. It’s those shields that are providing us with the oxygen we so desperately need.”

   “ So simple.”

   “I thought you’d want to explore, even a tiny bit, so I made sure that the systems were prepared.”

   “It’s almost as if you know me.”

   “I’m a very good judge of character.”

   “That's why I’m here in the first place.”

   “Precisely.”

   If she weren’t leaving the ground due to the lack of gravity, then Clara knew exactly why it felt like she was floating. The Doctor’s charisma, aimed at her with a full dosage, was exactly the sort of thing to make her swoon. It wasn’t just the adventures and the improbable experiences he was subjecting to her, but the way he looked at her as if no one else existed that made her feel truly special. She fully expected that her expression, and most definitely her eyes, were giving away her unwavering attraction towards him, and yet he continued to look at her, suggesting he wasn’t opposed to the attention.

   “How did you even find their planet?” she asked, looking up at the sky that was darker than the one she knew.

   Clara thought back to the time she’d last been at home, before running away in the blue box with the extraordinary man. She’d looked up at the stars, trying to figure out which ones she’d see, vowing to do her best to visit them all. As she replicated the same action, she was now left to ponder just how far Earth was from her current location. Could she see it? Was it one of the glistening dots so very far away? Was there someone else back home, perhaps the children or the Doctor’s strange friends, who was looking right back at her without realising?

   “I’m just that smart,” he replied.

   “Could I get a less condescending answer, please?”

   Her response only made his confident smirk grow larger. “They told me. You saw me talking to them.”

   “You were talking to a species that don’t even have a term for themselves, but they still have a name for their planet that you were able to locate?” She put her hands on her hips, clearly disbelieving.

   “Well…not exactly. They were able to describe the star system in which they originated from and from what they detailed, I was able to make an educated guess. The only way they know their planet is through its connection to the celestial bodies around it. Turning planets into road signs.”

   Clara stared at him. “You managed to find one planet out of billions just because of the stars nearby?”

   “I guess you could say that, yes.”

   “You knew that off the top of your head?”

   “I’ve been travelling for a long time, Clara. The stars are my constant companions, although I’ve watched a fair few burn out in their final moments.”

   “I think that’s one of the most amazing things you’ve done so far.”

   He rubbed at his neck. “Then my standards are really slacking. I should be entertaining you a lot more than that.”

   Clara laughed lightly. “I want to be able to be like you. To know the stars so well that I’m never truly lost in the universe. It must be so…comforting.”

   “Maybe you will reach that point. If you stick around for long enough.”

   “I don’t have plans to leave any time soon, Doctor.”

   “If I keep boring you to this extent, then you might reconsider. You need entertainment. You need to explore .” He held out a hand, inviting her back inside, and she begrudgingly did as silently instructed. “So…you’ve seen a star up close, you’ve travelled to the future and battled aliens, and you’ve visited your first planet. What else did you want when you started?”

   “As far as I can remember, I’m pretty sure I asked for danger .”

   He raised an eyebrow. “Was the Ice Warrior not enough for you.”

   “A mere starter. I’m ready for the main course.”

   There was that smile again, and then he was running right for the console, dragging her along for the ride. It was a practised dance as he haphazardly moved around, flicking switches with exaggerated flourishes whilst refusing to let go of her hand. She watched as the Tardis came to life at his touch, just like she often did. Perhaps that was why their relationship was improving, her and the blue box, because they were both the same: completely and utterly enraptured by the man in the bow tie.

   “You want danger? I’ve set the Tardis to pick up any distress calls within reach. If anyone’s in trouble, we should know. Does that sound dangerous enough?”

   “That depends on why they’re in trouble in the first place.”

   “I like the way you think, Miss Oswald.”

   The Doctor finally let go, leaving Clara’s hand cold and empty, as he looked at the screen. “Let’s see…I need to pick a good one. A farmer has lost his sheep. Maybe not. Someone’s car has decided to stop working when they’ve got a big job interview. Save that for later, perhaps.” His brow furrowed. “Hold on…let me see. Earth, which is always a concern when something’s happening there. November 1974. Caliburn House.” He typed away on the keyboard, bringing up digital copies of old documents and photos. “You want danger, Clara?”

   “Most definitely.” Secretly, she was starting to doubt whether she should have poked the wasps’ nest. 

   “How about becoming a real life ghostbuster?”

   The Doctor looked at her expectantly, being met with a clueless expression. “Maybe I’ll have to teach you the cultural significance of that before we set off.”

Chapter Text

“So you know what the plan is?”

   “Yes.”

   “And you’re not just saying that, right?”

   “Would I choose to appease you like that?”

   “I don’t know. Probably. Now I’m more worried than ever that everything you do is designed to appease me.”

   “Your ego certainly needs looking after.”

   “It does not!”

   “My, my…I didn't expect you to get so defensive so quickly. That might just be a new record.”

   “I feel as if we’re getting off track. If this is to work properly, then I need to make sure you know what you’re doing.”

   Clara looked at the Doctor as they walked, smiling affectionately at just how earnest he was being, given the subject matter of the conversation they were sharing. An outsider might have believed it was the most serious of topics, based on how frequently he was reiterating his need for perfection. Clara couldn’t claim to completely understand where he was coming from, nor what he was aiming for, but she’d learnt by now that it was best if she just played along. It would ensure the Time Lord remained happy and, more likely than not, she’d have some fun on their adventures.

   Judging from their latest surroundings, it was difficult to see where the fun was going to come from. It was a grand estate, not unlike the one she had frequented as a governess back home, with a mighty building dominating the landscape. A crowd of trees lined its perimeter, swaying ominously as a heavy wind caught their branches. Night was settling too, painting the area in a blanket of darkness that added a sinister edge to the trees’ movements, their shadows transformed into twisted creatures that looked hungry for a chase. And the building, as they approached it, creaked just as much, old and lonely. 

   The Doctor had promised ghosts and, though she was no expert, this seemed to be the perfect place to find them.

   “Doctor,” Clara sighed. “We’ve been through this a number of times now. We’ve practised it more than necessary. I think I can manage it.”

   “It just won’t work if we’re out of sync,” he argued petulantly. 

   “You’ve told me that. Repeatedly.”

   “Do you want to run through it one more time?”

   Clara grimaced. “Not especially. I’d rather get inside, where it’s warm.”

   She brought her shawl closer to her neck, the one thing currently fighting off the cold as it crawled up her back. The dress she was wearing was small compared to the one she’d met the Doctor in, which meant it didn't provide nearly as much comforting warmth. She looked at the house growing larger as they got closer and thought about changing her mind; it didn't look as if any substantial heat had blessed its corridors for quite some time. But ghosts couldn’t thrive in a place of warmth and cheeriness, the thrill of potential danger helping her forget about the biting wind.

   “I thought you’d be more excited about this. Especially after watching the movie.”

   The Doctor had decided, before embarking on this latest trip, that Clara’s cultural knowledge needed expanding, based solely on the fact that she hadn’t understood his reference when he’d first put forward the idea. So he’d taken her to the Tardis’ cinema room, a magnificent spectacle tucked away inside the ship that she’d never known was there, and had made her sit through all one hour and forty-seven minutes of Ghostbusters. Not that she minded. Being introduced to the concept of a film in the first place had taken some time to get used to, a marvel that had blown her mind just as much as seeing a star or an alien planet up close. In the end, the actual substance of the movie could have been anything and she would have been left entertained, though the special effects, as the Doctor called them, had certainly left her mind bamboozled. 

   How could a marshmallow grow to be as tall as the towers she’d seen in the modern day without falling apart?

   “I told you how much I enjoyed that,” Clara pointed out. “My first movie. I’ll remember it fondly.”

   “It’s a good one to begin with, Ghostbusters. Lots of action, lots of humour, a splash of romance…it’s definitely up there as one of my favourites, despite all the scientific inaccuracies.”

   Clara grinned, not just because of his infectious enthusiasm that was powerful enough to brighten their dark whereabouts. The way he’d described the film resonated with her. It seemed to describe their travels quite accurately. There was definitely a high level of action with the amount of running they’d already done. The Doctor was always making jokes, trying to make her laugh, which she always did, no matter if the jokes were actually fun or not. And then the splash of romance…well, they’d already dabbled in that arena so the Doctor’s comments may have been a hint that he was looking forward to revisiting that particular part of their relationship. Perhaps. Or maybe that was a dose of hopeful thinking on her part.

   “Just you wait until we watch the sequels,” he added. 

   “Does that mean we’ll do it again? What did you call it? Movie night?”

   “If you want to,” the Doctor replied, almost shyly, as if he were asking her to do something fairly personal and intimate. Maybe that’s what partners did in the future, watching films together in the name of romance. What a silly notion. “And it doesn’t just have to be Ghostbusters! There are so many films that I need to introduce you to. It’ll be like exploring the universe from the comfort of a reclining chair. With popcorn right by our sides.”

   The popcorn had been a delightful development, even if she’d been distrusting of the sight when the Doctor had first appeared with two boxes full of the delicacy. By the time she’d taken her first taste, she’d basically been hooked, shovelling individual pieces into her mouth in a most unlady-like manner. What she’d enjoyed most, besides the snacks on offer, had been just how close the two of them had sat next to each other. For nearly two hours, they had been lying down in their fanciful reclining chairs, no different to sharing a bed. In the end, her mind had been furiously focusing on the comfortable nature of that dynamic that she’d sometimes forgotten to pay attention to the provided entertainment.

   “I like the sound of that,” she assured him, just as bashfully, like they were still tiptoeing around one another, neither one of them wanting to say the wrong thing, to push the limit too far.

   “Good. It’s a date.”

   Her ears pricked up. “Is it?”

   The Doctor gulped audibly. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

   “I think it was the right choice, actually.”

   “Oh…um…good…excellent, in fact.” 

   “So…” Clara murmured, feeling as if she should stop things before they pushed their luck. “...are these ghosts you’re about to show me going to look like the ones in the film.”

   “Absolutely not. Well…” He scratched his rather prominent chin. “...they might do. I’ve never seen a ghost up close, for real. The last time I gave into temptation to investigate their supposed presence, they turned out to be Cybermen in disguise, and that was a whole ordeal with…heartbreaking consequences.”

   It was easy to pick up on the Doctor’s sudden downbeat demeanour. “Do I want to ask?”

   “It’s not something that needs discussing right now.”

   “Do I get to know what Cybermen are though?”

   The Doctor pulled a face. “I’m sure you’ll find out soon enough. They always have a knack for turning up when you don’t want them to.”

   “Another formidable enemy you’ve gained over the years?”

   “Precisely. At least you’re starting to understand what my track record’s like.”

   Clara smiled softly. “Do you believe in ghosts, Doctor?”

   “Pardon?”

   “Do you think ghosts are real? Phantoms? Ghouls? Spectres of the night? I feel like it’s a pertinent question to ask given what we’re about to face.”

   “I’ve never had the time to ponder that question properly.”

   “How old are you again?”

   “That’s a rather personal question, don’t you think, Miss Oswald?”

   “I just think, with a mind as endlessly curious as yours, you’ll have had plenty of time to think about it.”

   “The most important thing is whether you believe in them, Clara. Sometimes, belief in their existence is more terrifying than the reality.” 

   The Doctor turned to face her, his smile occasionally illuminated by the flashes of lightning decorating the sky. If the universe wanted them to find a ghost, then it had set the scene perfectly. The house was right in front of them now, its large, oak doors standing before them, with that tingle of excitement starting to show itself again within Clara. She had no way of knowing what lay behind them, and the infinite possibilities were the most exciting parts of her adventures with the Time Lord. Every morning, she woke up with the day bound to be completely different from the last. The day before, it was Ice Warriors. The next, ghosts. Who knew what was around the corner?

   “Are you ready to find out if you truly believe?” the Doctor asked her.

   “Challenge accepted,” Clara responded confidently. “My mission is to make you scream like a little girl. Just to give you a fair warning.”

   “I look forward to seeing your attempts. But your first mission is to do exactly as we practised in the mirror.”

   The Doctor knocked loudly on the doors, more enthusiastically than was strictly necessary. Clara knew that he was only doing that to add to the atmosphere, perhaps wanting to scare whoever was inside. He hadn’t gone into much detail about who they would be working with, if anyone at all, and she got the sense that the Gallifreyan wanted to keep it that way. Having her approach the situation with a fresh set of eyes probably made things more exciting for him. The door swung open after a few more uncompromising bangs, just when they were starting to think that no one was home. 

   As they’d trained for, the Doctor pushed her to one side, jumping out in front of the person who was trying to greet them. “Boo!” He laughed like a child, giddy at evidently scaring an unsuspecting victim. “Hello! I’m looking for a ghost.”

   “And you are…?” the person asked, cueing Clara perfectly.

   She joined the Doctor by his side, grinning from ear to ear. “Ghostbusters!”

   “Ha ha!” the Time Lord celebrated. “That worked better than I expected.”

   “Did you ever doubt me?”

   “Just your cultural knowledge.”

   “Which I can’t be blamed for, given my historical limitations.”

   “I don’t see them as limitations, more like…opportunities.”

   “Doctor, you flatter me.”

   “Excuse me…” The person said, clearly disgruntled. “Is someone going to explain what’s going on?”

   Clara, no longer enthralled by the excitement of pulling off their small routine, was now able to fully appreciate who they’d disturbed. The person who’d opened the door was a man, probably in his (late) forties with a pair of glasses dominating his face. His brown hair was slightly curled at the front, not unlike the Doctor’s, and their fashion sense was also similar, with the man sporting a tweed jacket. Clara was more interested in the woman accompanying him, standing off in the background, evidently unnerved by their unexpected appearance.

   A flash of the psychic paper was shown to their welcome party. “I’m the Doctor.”

   “Doctor what?” the man asked, a pertinent question, Clara supposed.

   “If you like,” the Doctor quipped, gesturing to his companion. “And this is Clara.” He shoved past the man, barely registering the still shocked woman. “Ah, but you’re very different, aren’t you?” He ran over to a collection of whirring machines set up in the entrance hall of the building. “ You are Major Alec Palmer! Member of the Baker Street Irregulars, the Ministry of Ungentlemanly warfare. Specialised in espionage, sabotage and reconnaissance behind enemy lines.” He was now standing right in front of Palmer, barely respecting his personal space. “You’re a talented watercolourist, professor of psychology and ghost hunter!” The Doctor evidently failed to notice the deep glare the professor was wearing, electing to shake his hand enthusiastically. “Total pleasure. Massive.”

   “Actually, you’re wrong,” the woman said, finding her voice. “Professor Palmer spent most of the war as a POW.”

   “Phew. I was worried for a second there that I actually was wrong, which is always embarrassing. But you’ll find that that story was a lie told by a very brave man involved in very secret operations.” Again, he turned to Palmer, whispering to him, though Clara and the woman could still easily hear his hushed words. “The sort of man who keeps a Victoria Cross in a box in the attic, hey?”

   The Doctor’s mind was obviously working at a rapid rate, for he was looking at the woman before he’d properly concluded his last train of thought. “But you know that! Because you’re Emma Grayling...” He grabbed her gently by the shoulders, planting kisses in the air either side of her face. Clara found herself fairly disgruntled that he was displaying such affection to someone else, who, by the way he’d announced her name, was obviously an impressive woman. “...the professor’s companion.”

   “Assistant,” Emma quickly corrected him.

   “Ah, yes, sorry…force of habit.”

   “Relax, Emma,” Palmer instructed calmly. “He’s military intelligence.” He didn't stop despite Clara’s snort of laughter as she danced around the intriguing machinery, resisting the urge to press (and invariably break) something. “So what’s this in aid of?”

   “Health and safety,” the Doctor answered with a sly wink to Clara. “Yeah, the Ministry got wind of what’s going on down here. Sent me to check that everything’s in order, which should tell you just how much trouble you could be in.”

   “They don’t have the right to stick their noses in our business.”

   “Don’t worry, Guv’nor, I’ll be out of your hair in no time.”

   Clara glared at him. “Are you mocking my accent?”

   “I wouldn’t dream of it. Ah, look! The ACR 99821.” The Doctor was obvious in his attempts to change the subject, to avoid the worst of her considerable ire. Unlike Clara, he was more than willing to fiddle with the equipment. “Oh, bliss, nice action on the toggle switches. I do love a toggle switch. Probably more than I should do.” He was up again, racing towards their stunned hosts, waving the sonic at them. Clara was struggling to keep up at times.

   “What was that?” Palmer asked.

   “Classified.”

   “You can’t just say that and expect me to shut my mouth.”

   “And yet that’s exactly what I’m expecting. Prepared to prove me wrong?” He paused, waiting to be countered, but a rebuttal never came. A smile lit up his lips before he went back to looking at his sonic.

   “What’s it telling you?” Clara wondered curiously.

   “That they haven’t been exposed to any life-threatening transmundane emanations.”

   “Do you want to repeat that in a language I’ll actually understand?”

   “An apparition from another world.” The Doctor’s features flicked behind the candelabra he picked up. “A ghost. Come on, where’s the ghost? It’s why we’re here. It’s ghost time.”

   “I won’t have this stolen out from underneath me,” Palmer argued staunchly. “Do you understand that?”

   The Doctor’s smile wasn’t wavering. “Perfectly. But your fear of that happening suggests that there is something to be discovered here. Do you want to share with the class?”

   “I will not have my work stolen and then be fobbed off with a pat on the back and a letter from the queen. I won’t allow that to happen again.”

   “Why not? She’s a very lovely woman. Perhaps a bit lupine but she can’t be blamed for that.” The Doctor came to an abrupt stop. “Wait. No. We’re not talking about that one. That was Victoria.”

   “Wait what?” Clara interrupted. “Are you saying that the queen…”

   “...was potentially a werewolf? I wouldn’t like to spread baseless gossip…but, if we ever run into her again, make sure you’re wearing a mistletoe necklace.”

   “This is ludicrous!” Palmer protested. “I want you out of my house right now!”

   Clara looked at him. “This is actually your house?”

   “Yes…why wouldn’t it be?”

   “I don’t know…maybe because of the whole feel of it. It doesn’t seem like the sort of place someone would willingly put a deposit down for.”

   “Well, I did.”

   “Did the person who sold it to you laugh all their way to the bank?”

   “I wouldn’t know and I don’t care. This house is important. Whatever information it holds is more valuable than any monetary sum you can come up with.”

   The Doctor patted him on the back. “A man who values the inherent curiosity of the world. I appreciate that. I have exactly the same mindset, which is another reason why you should trust me.”

   “You’ve given me no reason to do that. I won’t trust anyone from the Ministry, not anymore.”

   “Which is why you’re hiding out in an old house that people claim to be haunted.”

   “They’re not just claims. There’s irrefutable proof.”

   “Then you’ve outlined exactly why me and my associate are here. If there is that proof, then we need to know what’s going on.”

   “Why is the Ministry so interested in this?”

   “You know I can’t tell you that.” The Doctor’s smile was soft and encouraging, the one that made Clara swoon every time she saw it in action. Palmer, standing so close to the Time Lord, was powerless to fight against it. “But forget about them. Focus on me. And Clara. Because we’re more than interested in what you’re researching and we certainly believe that our assistance can help you bring all that proof together. There just needs to be a level of cooperation between us.”

   Palmer sighed. “Very well. But be warned…there’s a clear reason why this house was so comfortably in my meagre budget.”

Chapter Text

“Caliburn house is over four hundred years old, but she has been here much longer.”

   Clara was sure that a shiver rolled down her back as Palmer spoke, his gruff voice adding to the already ominous atmosphere. She’d asked for something like this but was surprised at how visceral the fear was that was steadily growing in the pit of her stomach. She found herself standing in front of a board, with numerous photos attached to it, all depicting different sights. As she looked more closely, curiosity getting the better of her as usual, she noticed that they were dominated by a single figure, broadly humanoid in shape. It seemed to glow as if it were made of nothing but light, so blinding that, if it were up close, it would surely dazzle all who laid eyes upon it. A ghost. An actual, real life phantom. The Doctor had pulled it out of the hat once again.

   “The Caliburn Ghast,” Palmer continued, gesturing to his collection of evidence. “She’s mentioned in local Saxon poetry and parish folk tales. The Wraith of the Lady…the Maiden in the Dark…the Witch of the Well.”

   “This can’t be possible,” Clara uttered.

   “I haven’t brought you here to be a doubter,” the Doctor reminded her. “Inquisitive, yes. Poke holes in the story as much as you want. But don’t ever be closed minded.”

   She looked at the ground, feeling as if she’d almost let him down. “Sorry.”

   He lifted her chin with a gentle finger. “There’s nothing to apologise for. It can be difficult, being faced with something unexplainable. It challenges everything you’ve ever known.”

   “Travelling with you has already done that, Doctor.”

   “Then I suppose I’m succeeding at my job.”

   “If I can continue,” Palmer interrupted with a slight scowl. “She’s definitely real. In the seventeenth century, a local clergyman saw her. He wrote that her presence was accompanied by a dreadful knocking…as if the Devil himself demanded entry.”

   “He certainly had a way with words,” Clara remarked.

   “During the war, American airmen stationed here left offerings of tinned Spam. The tins were later found in 1965, bricked up in the servants’ pantry, along with a number of handwritten notes, appeals to the Ghast…and I quote…for the love of God, stop screaming.”

   The Doctor frowned. “It seems like a waste. I love a Spam sandwich in the morning.”

   “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you eat,” Clara countered. “All this time together, not one proper meal.”

   “Are you forgetting Christmas day?”

   “Everyone always eats on Christmas day. I bet you were just being polite, to appease me, to flatter me.”

   “It’s not as if you were the one cooking.”

   “I helped! I basted the turkey! I trimmed the sprouts!”

   “Please!” Palmer snapped, wiping a tired hand across his exasperated face. “I thought you were to learn about my research.”

   “ Our research,” Emma corrected him pointedly, sounding as if she’d been forced to pick up on that specific error a few times.

   The Doctor waved a hand. “Carry on. Don’t mind us.”

   “Actually, I’d like to pick up on something,” Clara risked saying, stopping the professor in his tracks once again. “Why doesn’t she change? I can’t claim to know how your photography works nowadays but surely it must lend itself to some discretions, right? In every picture, no matter the angle, no matter the location, she’s always in the same position. Why?”

   “We don’t know,” Palmer admitted, at least acknowledging that it was a decent question. “She’s an objective phenomenon. But objective recording equipment can’t detect her.”

   “Without the presence of a powerful psychic,” the Doctor said, casting his eyes towards Emma.

   “Absolutely. Very well done. It’s a small comfort to see that the Ministry’s standards haven’t slackened over the years.”

   Emma’s face had gone strangely pale. “She knows I’m here.” They all turned to look at her. “I can feel her. Like she’s calling out to me.”

   “Is she saying something?” Clara wondered. “Can ghosts say anything?”

   “Help me. Over and over again. Help me. On a loop. She’s desperate.”

   “Then it’s a good job that we’re here,” the Doctor assured her. “Because we’re quite the experts when it comes to helping people.” 

   His smile was more than enough to fill Clara with a sense of unwarranted optimism, a sense of confidence that she could take on a ghost as long as the Doctor was by her side. When had this man developed such an encouraging power over her? She doubted that she was first to fall victim to it, but had others lasted longer before succumbing to his spell? Did she even want to be broken free from that influence when it made her feel powerful and unstoppable?

   “Come on then, Clara,” he said, picking up an already lit candelabra. 

   She looked at him warily, that confidence beginning to wear thin almost instantly. “What are you talking about?”

   “We’re going to do our job. We’re going to help out as much as we can. We’re going to find the ghost.” He gestured his head towards the hallway beyond, which looked suspiciously dark and gloomy. The perfect setting to get attacked by a ghoul.

   Once again, she found herself refusing to show any weakness in front of the Doctor. She snatched the light source from his hand, wearing a growing smirk. “You want to explore the house?”

   “Obviously. Best way to get to the bottom of the mystery, as much as I love the set up that Professor Palmer has going on here.” He peered at her carefully. “You’re not scared, are you? You can always stay here, where it’s nice and bright.”

   Clara squinted her eyes. “Are you challenging me again?”

   “I wouldn’t dare do something so foolish.”

   “Good. Because it’s not even a challenge. I’ll even go first, so that I can protect you from anything that likes to hide in the shadows.”

   The Doctor seemed to be impressed by her attitude, and suddenly that confidence was returning. It was a constant seesaw of emotions. They began to make their way to the next part of the building, the corridor beyond doing its best to nullify their best attempts to illuminate it. Again, Clara was left questioning the mindset of the person who would willingly buy such a spooky property, although it did point to a sincere dedication to solving the complex riddle of the location’s haunted history.

   “The music room is the heart of the house,” Emma told them.

   “Of…course it is,” the Doctor grumbled. “Because there’s nothing that ghosts like more than playing a creepy tune on an old piano.”

   If the hallway had appeared dark just looking at it, then it was all-consuming once they were completely within it. The flickers of candlelight guiding their way was only effective in providing a vague outline of their new surroundings, with each step made in blind faith than any realistic knowledge of what was ahead of them. To Clara, it felt like there was something lurking just in the corner of her eye, never there when she forced herself to turn around. If there was a person or creature or being , then it was especially good at hiding. She supposed that it came with the day job when you were a ghost.

   “Have I ever told you about the race of aliens that solely lives within the confines of shadows?” the Doctor asked, making conversation in a foolish and misjudged attempt to calm her nerves. “Step into a shadow infected by them and they’d consume your flesh within a matter of seconds. Caused me some real bother when I was in a library once.”

   “Doctor?” Clara said.

   “Yes?”

   “Maybe now isn’t the best time to be talking about monsters that will kill us if we happen to pass through a shadow…since, you know, we’re surrounded by them at the moment.”

   The Doctor grimaced in acknowledgement. “Good point, well made.”

   “I’m wondering something…”

   “I’m sure you’re going to tell me what that is, rather than making me guess. Unless you want to make a game of it to pass the time.”

   “What happens if we do actually find her? The ghost? Or whatever this woman is? Do we just…strike up a conversation with her?”

   “Well…as curious people, we’d ask her how she came to be…whatever she is, that sort of thing.”

   “Is that important?”

   “Of course it is! I hate not knowing things. Ignorance is one foe that you can’t defeat with a spot of well thought out planning and a plea to its mercy.”

   The door to the music room was already open, and Clara couldn’t figure out whether that was a good or bad sign. Did it mean that it was involved in whatever was going on throughout the rest of Caliburn house? Or was it an open invitation by the Lady of the Well, akin to a bear welcoming you into its cave? It was just as dreary as the rest of the property, decorated in old wallpaper that was falling down in certain corners of the room. Dusty instruments littered the space, which meant it was at least befitting its title. Clara idly strummed the strings of an abandoned harp, quickly earning a sharp look from the Doctor, who had jumped at the sound of the music.

   Clara couldn’t help but laugh. “Sorry. Couldn’t resist.”

   “It’s not the ghost that’s going to scare me half to death. It’s you.”

   “I’ll wear that compliment like a badge of honour.”

   The Doctor waved his sonic, if just to distract Clara from how momentarily scared he’d been. “So…do you feel anything?”

   “...would you believe me if I say yes?”

   “I would, because I feel it too.”

   “Like you’re being watched?”

   “What does being watched feel like? Is it that funny, tickly feeling on your neck?”

   “I’d say so, yes.”

   “Then yes.”

   The Doctor walked deeper into the room, but Clara stayed put, picking up on the odd creak of floorboards. “I think she’s close by.”

   The Time Lord was, however, not listening, instead moving forwards and backwards for a reason Clara couldn’t understand. “Cold spot. Spooky. It’s cold where I’m standing right now…but move a bit to the left and…warm again. Or as warm as the place gets.”

   Clara wanted to focus on his odd behaviour but she was now adamant that a door was opening somewhere . Were those footsteps she could hear? Were the small flames of the candles flickering out of happenstance, or was someone trying to blow them out of existence? She looked towards the other end of the room, before turning back again, finding the Doctor on his haunches, drawing a circle on the wooden floor with a piece of chalk that had just appeared in his grip. 

   “Doctor?”

   “What?”

   “Can I admit that I’m regretting my choice to come here?”

   “To the house or deeper within it?”

   “I’m not exactly sure yet.”

   “I’m with you, every step of the way.”

   “I don’t need a bodyguard.”

   “Maybe I’m saying that I need one.”

   It was the sort of humorous comment that made Clara temporarily forget about her doubts, a small smirk forming on her lips. The Doctor, no longer interested in the circle he’d made, was stepping out of the music room, barely waiting for Clara to follow. Not wanting to be left alone in a potentially haunted place, she raced after him. Thankfully, he’d come to a stop at the sound of a large thud from upstairs, though Clara couldn’t find it within herself to be thankful for that intervention.

   “What was that?”

   The banging repeated itself, increasing in frequency and strength. Clara felt her hands grow cold before the candles finally gave way, extinguished by an unexpected gust of wind. There didn't appear to be any windows open nearby, nor was the breeze still there the moment after. She and the Doctor stared at the candelabra with wide eyes, both of them doing their best not to freak out about the disturbance. There would be a purely logical explanation. The Doctor would give it to her right away, Clara was sure of it.

   Instead, he was staring at the windows next to them. The panes of glass frosted over in front of their eyes, an icy grip taking hold of the building. The Doctor coughed into his hands and his breath appeared in a thick cloud in front of him. Clara truly didn't want to panic, trying not to focus on the way her fingers felt oddly numb. It was just that, the last time an old manor house had suddenly grown freezing whilst she’d been it, a governess made out of ice hadn’t been too far away from making herself known. Clara was fully prepared to fend herself off against the same monster, feeling that she owed a better account of herself after she’d been nearly killed by it in their last encounter.

   “Please tell me that it’s not the Great Intelligence again,” she said to him. “I don’t think I can go through that ordeal again.”

   “It’s not the Great Intelligence,” the Time Lord told her.

   “Are you sure about that?”

   “Can we ever be a hundred percent sure about anything?”

   “ Doctor ! If it’s not that, then what is it?”

   “It’s a very loud noise,” he said as the banging returned once again. “It’s a very loud, very angry noise.”

   “But you don’t know what’s making it…”

   “I was hoping it was you, messing around again, like you were doing with the harp.”

   “But I’m standing right in front of you!”

   “Now isn’t the time for sound logic!”

   He joined her by her side and, despite everything, Clara started to smile. He’d chosen to grab her hand, a fairly intimate act that spoke of the innocence of their burgeoning relationship. The fact that he hadn’t asked her first before taking that leap either suggested that he was too scared to think straight, or it came as the logical and natural next step in their dynamic. Sure, they held hands now when they wanted to comfort one another. Clara was definitely okay with that. She definitely wasn’t as terrified as accepting it willingly as she was of the ghost apparently getting closer.

   “Doctor?”

   “Yes, Clara?”

   “I appreciate you trying to comfort me, even if everything I’ve said up until now should have made you believe that I don’t need it.”

   “What are you talking about?”

   “I just think it’s rather sweet that you’re holding my hand.”

   The Doctor slowly brought his gaze to her, before both his hands waggled in front of his face. “I’m not holding your hands.”

   They turned around, saw a flash of something in the lightning, and made the mutual decision to start running. All they focused on was making it through the same mix of corridors and rooms that hadn’t marked their journey up to that point, until they eventually made it back to the entrance hall of the house. If that was to bring any protection, it didn't last long. Upon their hasty arrival, a floating black disc appeared out of thin air, floating a few metres from the ground. It sparked with energy, spinning violently and uncontrollably.

   “Has this happened before?” the Doctor asked, taking charge whilst Palmer and Emma stood still in shock.

   “Never,” the professor answered.

   Clara noticed Emma staring at something else other than the strange, newly-formed disc, which seemed like something that should have been able to hold her attention. Clara followed her line of sight, stumbling backwards when she realised a cloudy image of a forest had appeared before them, the same haunted figure from the pictures standing there as if she were right in front of them. The noise she was making was ungodly, garbled nonsense that was getting lost in translation. The Doctor was caught between taking photographs of the disc and the impossible visage, before Emma promptly collapsed into the arms of Professor Palmer, the room going back to normal as quickly as it had descended into chaos.

   That appeared to be the case before Clara, dazed by the sudden experience, slowly spun in a lazy circle, her eyes landing on the staircase they’d just run down from. The old, faded wallpaper was marked with a smoky message, bearing the same message asking for assistance as Emma had described not too long ago. The Doctor ran up the steps to investigate it more closely but its faint appearance was just as short lived as the rest of the spectacle, seemingly being drawn back into the walls and vanishing from view.

   Clara focused on the unconscious woman. “Is she okay?” 

   “She’s had episodes like this before, where it’s become too much for her,” Palmer explained. 

   “But never on this sort of scale,” the Doctor argued. “That’s what you said. This has never happened before. How can you be so sure about her wellbeing?”

   “Because she has to be okay. I won’t let her come to harm. We both know the risks that this investigation brings and we both agreed that she’s strong enough to put herself through it. Her mind would have been overloaded just now…even her brilliance can’t contend with the complexities that the universe is trying to show here.”

   “She’ll just need a strong cup of tea when she wakes up,” Clara reasoned, working as ever to get the Doctor out of trouble.

   “Perhaps a deep glass of brandy.”

   Clara’s nose wrinkled. “I’m sure she’d prefer something with an actual pleasant taste to welcome her back to reality.”

   Palmer scratched the back of his head. “Maybe you’re right…I’ll get the kettle boiling for when she wakes.”

   “Good choice.” Clara looked at the Doctor. “Still no explanation?”

   “Do you really expect me to know all the answers all the time?”

   “Isn’t that basically your job description?”

   “I appreciate the faith you have in me.” The Doctor was fiddling with the camera he’d picked up.

   “That thing takes photographs?”

   “It sure does.” Acting quickly, he arched his arms and was pointing it in her face, the blinding flash going off before she could properly react. “The only problem is that it takes a while for the images to develop, and the film needs highly specific conditions to come out properly and clearly. Thankfully, given the number of pictures our colleagues have been decorating the place with, that equipment will be lying around somewhere. Add that to the list of jobs Palmer has on his hands.”

   “Can’t we do it ourselves? I’d like to see how it works, actually.”

   “We can save that for another day. Don’t get me started on the wonders of modern technology, Clara. That’s a lecture that you’ll be begging to earn the sweet release from once it gets going.”

   “Does that mean you’ve thought of something else for us to do in the meantime?”

   “It’s like you read my mind. We need to head back to the Tardis. I’m going to try to do something that I’ve never succeeded in doing before. You did say that you wanted a bit of danger.”

Chapter Text

 “So…where are we going?”

   There may have been a torrential downpour outside, because the setting had to be just perfect for a ghost hunt, and they may have been caught in said storm during their short walk back to the Tardis, but it wasn’t enough to dampen Clara’s spirits. She entered the ship with a giddy flourish, the prospect of adventure right at her fingertips. The Doctor was already at the console, preparing them for whatever outlandish concoction of ideas he’d come up with. Preparing them for the danger he’d claimed lay ahead. And still Clara was excited about the next leg in their journey, which really should have been concerning if she thought about it for more than one moment.

   Thankfully, travelling with the Doctor usually meant there was never time for a lot of deep introspection, meaning she didn't have to contemplate her thirst for thrills for very long.

   The Time Lord looked up at her, still messing with the controls. Clara knew that he was simply trying to boast, showcasing his skills of piloting such a magnificent ship without actually having to watch what he was doing. She wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of applauding his efforts, knowing that encouragement would only make his cockiness grow worse. But he smirked at her silence, as if she’d given away how impressed she was by his talent just through the slight change in her expression. The fact that he knew her face so intimately to detect that shift was something that irked her much more than her incessant search for danger.

   “Nowhere,” he answered. “We’re staying right here. Right here, on this exact spot. As long as I can figure out how to do it. I’m fairly certain that I read it in a manual once.”

   “I’ve seen how you fly this thing, Doctor. There’s absolutely no chance that you ever browsed the instructions, otherwise our journeys would be a lot smoother.”

   “Rude!” he gasped in mock astonishment. “But also fair. I probably threw it into the garbage disposal within the first week of stealing the old girl.”

   “More like the first hour.”

   “You know me so well.”

   “Well then…if we’re not moving… when are we going?”

   Clara looked at him coyly, rather proud of herself for coming up with that idea without needing any prompts. It spoke of the progress she’d already made since stepping aboard the Tardis and the surprisingly large changes that had occurred in herself and her perspective of the universe. It made her more excited than ever to find out just how much she could grow. Perhaps she would even rival the Doctor’s keen intellect, a man who was currently chuckling affectionately at her rephrased question. He wasn’t bothering to hide how impressed he was and Clara knew she wanted to continue improving if just to be on the end of that look once again.

   “Oh, that is good. That is top notch.”

   “It’s why you chose me to travel with you.”

   “How could I have possibly comprehended just how smart you’d be? Too smart for your own good at times.”

   “Then if it wasn’t my intelligence, what tipped the scales in my favour?” she asked with a hopeful smile, wondering whether he would provide the response that she craved for.

   “I thought you wanted to know about my brilliant plans!” the Doctor said instead, much to her disappointment as he flagrantly moved the conversation back to an area he was more comfortable with. “We’re going always!”

   “We’re going always? That doesn’t even make sense. That’s not a structurally sound sentence, and I’d know because I used to have to tutor the children.”

   “Clara, surely you must realise by now that most of what I say is nonsensical.”

   “Doesn’t mean it helps when I want a proper answer.”

   “I gave you a proper answer!”

   “I’d need to understand it for it to be that, Doctor!”

   He was racing away, however, down the steps and briefly disappearing around the corner of the nearest corridor. Clara leaned against the railing, waiting for him to speak again, praying that he would at least consider stopping his endless use of riddles. When he stumbled back into view holding a familiar orange spacesuit, she started to doubt that she would ever get her wish. He held the outfit proudly, showing it off, which really wasn’t necessary when she’d tried it on herself during her attempts to find clothing that would suit the world of the future. Did they really share the same size clothes? Or did he have multiple versions of the same attire for whoever happened to need it?

   “What do you think?”

   “I think it suited me better.”

   “Most clothes would.”

   “Is that a compliment?”

   “You really need to start focusing on the important things, Clara!” he grumbled, making his way back to the raised platform.

   “Such as why you need a spacesuit.” Another point of pride was that she could accurately slip the word ‘spacesuit’ into conversation and feel completely casual about it.

   “Precisely.” His exclamation came in unison with his pulling down of the materialisation lever. “I’m wearing it because our first stop isn’t going to be the most hospitable from my calculations.”

   “Does this plan depend on the accuracy of your calculations, because I think we might be in trouble if that’s the case.”

   “Just for that slight on my honour, you’ll be staying in the Tardis whilst I venture outside. Not that I would have let you wander around anyway. There’s some levels of danger that only the pros can handle.”

   Clara was far from pleased about his lack of faith in her abilities, though she was soon feeling fairly thankful about her unwanted exclusion when she laid eyes upon their latest surroundings through the console’s monitor. She watched as the Doctor carefully trod over the rocky landscape, safely locked inside the spacesuit, whilst managing to dodge the streams of lava that carved through the ground. He busied himself by taking a series of photographs with a device that appeared much more advanced than the one professor Palmer had provided. It must have needed to be in order to survive the sweltering temperatures, a fact the Doctor made clear once he returned to safety, throwing the suit into an ice bath to cool it down, producing a cloud of steam that required the Tardis’ extractor fans to deal with.

   Clara was allowed to join the Doctor on his next stop, finding themselves immersed in a lush forest with buzzing insects and plants that were too large to surely exist. Why the Doctor thought that location was a great deal safer than the volcanic wasteland, Clara didn't know, especially when they ended up getting chased by a dinosaur. The Doctor wanted to stop and analyse just which species was trying to eat them, as well as taking the photograph at the same time as running at full speed, but Clara was on hand to drag him into the Tardis by his ear. She only just stopped herself from throwing him into the ice bath as punishment, which was more to do with the lack of energy her body had from the chase rather than sparing him the comeuppance.

   They spotted a couple of men shaking hands on a spot of open land, a piece of paper being exchanged between the pair. The happiest of the duo didn't even spot them watching the interaction, too busy celebrating what turned out to be a rather significant purchase. The Doctor pointed out that they were looking at the precise spot upon which the first brick would be laid of Caliburn House, whose namesake was the jubilant man before them. Clara struggled to wrap her head around how she could possibly walk along the corridors of a building she was now watching being constructed, the endless surge of time being nothing more than a minor inconvenience for someone like the Doctor, taking her along for the ride.

   At one point, they came across the same building as they’d been ghost hunting within, though its resemblance to Caliburn house was minimal in Clara’s opinion. With a clear blue sky and happy people in fancy dresses admiring the neatly manicured gardens, the setting couldn’t have been much different to the gloomy, creaking property that housed impossible secrets. And yet the Doctor took it in his stride, smiling all the time, silently showing off just how brilliant was, as if he fully expected Clara to be amazed by the chance of hopping between different time periods. Clara wanted to give him that response but it was almost too much for her to process, an assault on her senses.

   The same, gorgeous sky was scarred by war and conflict during another stop, with the cries of battle and soldiers dominating the air. Palmer had spoken at length about the army’s placement at Caliburn House and how they’d seemingly been haunted by an unrelenting spectre. And now Clara was watching those same men written about in tales living their lives, real people instead of the meaningless names they’d been to her just an hour before. Walking and talking, not the product of scrawled letters within a hastily written book. As she looked at the dark sky, she wondered how frightening the phantom must have been in order to detract their attention from the horrors of a conflict destined for her future.

   By the time the Tardis reached what the Doctor described as their final destination, the orange spacesuit had suitably cooled off, allowing him to don it once again. He left Clara on her own but he had no fight left this time to argue against his decision. Instead, she took up her place by the monitor, staring with teary eyes as the man she’d grown close to walked a scorched planet. Its barren wastelands were reminiscent of the world they’d taken their tiny arctic friends to for salvation, but that would have been a sweeter outcome than what she was watching. Because the Doctor had claimed that they wouldn’t be budging from their parking space, leaving only one conclusion as to where and when he’d chosen to take her.

   The Tardis doors closed and the Doctor joined her side, quickly picking up on the change in her demeanour. “Everything alright? Did the Tardis say something to you? I thought you were getting along swimmingly.”

   “No, it’s not that,” Clara answered, eyes not moving from the screen. “Have we just watched the entire life cycle of the Earth? Birth to death?”

   “Yes, I suppose we have.”

   “And we didn't just watch it. We experienced it. We became a fabric of every step along that existence.”

   “In a manner of speaking, depending on your perspective.”

   “That’s what I’m worried about, Doctor. Because you seem remarkably fine about what we’ve just witnessed, which makes me terrified of just what your perspective is.”

   “You’re… terrified of me?”

   “Of just how sanitised you can become to something like this, yes.”

   “But…the Tardis…she’s time. The whole premise of her very being is woven around experiences like this. I thought you’d wrapped your head around the challenges of time travel.”

   “Don’t make me out to be some small child who’s just confused.”

   He held up his hands. “That’s not what I’m doing.”

   “One minute, you’re in 1974, looking for ghosts but all you have to do is open your eyes and talk to whoever’s standing there. I understand that this is the world I’ve entered. I know that when you look at me, I haven’t been born yet and simultaneously been dead for billions of years. I know that you normally find yourself in a society that is a hundred years in my future. I know all that. But what I didn't truly appreciate was just how… meaningless that is to you. You’ve been doing it so long that it’s like breathing, something you do without even thinking. And it doesn’t make sense.”

   “What doesn’t?”

   “Why you’d ever want to hunt ghosts. Why you needed any proof that they exist. Because I’m talking to you now, just as much of a ghost as the one haunting Caliburn House.”

   “I don’t see you like that.”

   “It must be worse with me, right? Because all your friends came from my future, didn't they? Or most of them, at least. I was long dead before you met them, and yet they’re in your past now.”

   “It’s difficult to explain, I know. But…living in the Tardis…time can no longer be a linear concept. It’s more muddled than that.”

   “That’s not what I’m concerned about. What I want to know is…if I keep travelling with you…will I one day feel absolutely nothing when watching a life go by like you?”

**********

   “What’s wrong?”

   Emma came up to stand next to her. Clara had chosen to frequent herself by the board covered by old photographs whilst the Doctor fiddled with some sort of presentation he was preparing. It was easier to look at them than it was him. Some of the pictures were new, developed by Palmer whilst they’d been on their ultimately harrowing trip, but didn't reveal anything as startling as what Clara had uncovered. She only chose to look at the other woman because she believed she had to get over this, that it was simply a byproduct of her new life. If that was the case, then why was it so difficult?

   “What makes you think that something’s wrong?” she asked defensively, bringing her arms to her chest, which was a sure fire way of proving Emma right.

   “Perhaps it’s my mental abilities when it comes to reading people…or perhaps it’s because you’ve been staring at these pictures whilst hardly blinking for nearly five minutes and, in that time, you’ve refused every attempt the Doctor’s made to interact with you.”

   “I guess I’m more of an open book than I would have liked.”

   “I wouldn’t say that,” Emma argued. “There is something under the surface of you that I can’t place my finger on. Like your presence here shouldn’t be possible.”

   “That’s a simple way of putting it, yes.” Clara sighed, realising that her new companion wasn’t going to leave her until she had answers. “I just saw something I wish I hadn’t.”

   “What was it?”

   “That…everything ends. After I’d convinced myself that my time with the Doctor could stretch on forever, as silly and absurd a notion that sounds.”

   “I don’t think it’s silly. If I believe in anything, it’s that the one thing that can last forever is love.”

   Clara picked up on the way Emma’s gaze landed on Palmer, intrusive thoughts evidently getting the better of her, but the Doctor was clapping his hands to get their attention, meaning she couldn’t explore that newly opened avenue.

   “Right!” the Time Lord said to their small group. “Done! That’s it, gather round, gather round. Roll up! Roll up!” A wave of his sonic at a machine Clara hadn’t seen yet and suddenly a large screen that had been blank moments before was now depicting a similar photo to the ones she’d been obsessing over. It was a gentle reminder of the impossible things the Doctor could conjure up, bringing the barest of smiles to her face. “The ghast of Caliburn House. Never changing, trapped in a moment of fear and torment. But…what if she’s not? What if she’s just trapped somewhere time runs more slowly than it does here? What if a second to her was a hundred thousand years for us? And what if someone has a magic box…a blue box, probably…what if said somebody could take a snapshot of her…” The image began to change, a series of seemingly the same shot, though a figure was getting larger amongst the smoky backdrop. “...say, every few million years.”

   The slideshow stopped and a woman was looking right at them, frozen in place on the screen just as much as she seemingly was in real life.

   “She’s not a ghost,” the Doctor continued, leaning closer to Palmer. “But she’s definitely a lost soul. Her name’s Hila Tacorian. She’s a pioneer, a time traveller. Or at least she will be in a few hundred years.”

   “Time travel isn't possible,” Palmer bluntly said. “The paradoxes…”

   “...resolve themselves, by and large. Just look at Clara. She’s standing right next to you and she technically should be walking around under the rule of Queen Victoria.”

   Clara smiled meekly when the professor gazed over at her with wide eyes.

   “How long has she been alone?” Emma asked, completely transfixed by the image, as if she hadn’t heard the truth about Clara’s origins.

   “Well, time travel is a funny, old thing. I mean, from her perspective, she crash landed roughly…three minutes ago.”

   “Crash landed? Where?”

   “She’s in a pocket universe. A distorted echo of our own. They happen sometimes but never last for long.”

   “Which means there’s a ticking clock with how long we’ve got to rescue her,” Clara surmised.

   The Doctor smiled gently, presumably relieved that she was still talking to him. “Precisely.”

   “But how did we possibly do that?” Emma asked.

   “Well, we have an ace up our sleeve. You . You’re a lantern, shining across the dimensions, guiding her home. Back to the land of the living.”

   “She’s running,” Clara pointed out.

   “She is.”

   “Does that mean she’s running from something?”

   The Doctor clicked his fingers. “That’s the bit we don’t know yet. But they’re always the best bits.”

   “I still don’t know how I can help,” Emma told them.

   “You’re going to save Hila Tacorian because you’re Emma Grayling. You are the lantern. The rest of us are just along for the ride, I’m afraid.” He patted her gently on the shoulder before moving away. “We need some sturdy rope and a blue crystal from Metebelis Three. Plus some Kendal mint cake.”   

   Clara had to know. “Why the cake?”

   “Because I’m presuming mentally transporting one’s self across different dimensions is going to be hungry work.”

Chapter Text

“What is that?”

   Clara had mainly stood aside whilst the Doctor brought in a whole host of complicated-looking equipment into the manor house from the Tardis, though she’d been happy to discover that he wasn’t unwilling to use her to carry certain items. For the most part, people normally presumed that she would be the typical helpless woman, unable to possibly lift anything of note, so it was a comfort to find that the Time Lord wasn’t the sort to judge her on any preconceptions. Nevertheless, when she’d been lugging a particularly heavy crate of glowing technology, making an ungodly noise as she scraped it across the lacquered wooden floor, Clara had doubted whether she was truly relieved about being involved.

   It seemed that the back-breaking work was over for the time being, having watched the Doctor assemble the collected machinery into some sort of cohesive unit. A thick cable was running through the drawing room they were now in, connected to the Tardis, channelling energy from the ship. Clara could practically feel it fizzing with untapped potential, as if she would be transported through time and space if she dared touch it with her bare hands. Of course, the temptation was there all the same, regardless of the inherent danger, the untold power calling out to her like she was supposed to crave it.

   The Doctor was standing beside her, adding the finishing touches to his strange contraption. The part closest to Clara was a large crystal, a blue hue cascading a soft light across her features as she stared at it in wonder. Again, just like the twisting cables, it seemed to contain much more than first appearances suggested. Giving into a certain subset of voices in her head, she slowly reached out to touch it, wanting to know whether it would be cold or warm, whether she would be able to feel its presumably immense power through her fingertips. But the Doctor was on hand to swat her attempts away, as if he’d expected her to do exactly that.

   “It’s a subset of the Eye of Harmony,” he explained.

   “I don’t…”

   “Of course you don’t. It’d be weird if you did. I barely do myself.” He turned his focus onto Emma, who was hovering nervously nearby. “Right, you, sit down.”

   “ Please ,” Clara added pointedly.

   “Yes…please. Manners are still important, even when we’re working within such awesome parameters. Such as incorporating this fine specimen all the way from Metebelis Three into proceedings.”

   The Doctor picked up an odd-looking hat, though it wouldn’t have done much to protect you from a heavy downpour. It seemed to be made of metal, thick, golden ribbons forming a latticework of bands to gently rest upon Emma’s head. The main point of focus was at the front, with the strands of metal all linking to a smaller crystal than the one that had drawn Clara’s attention. It was much more intricate and delicate and consisted of a richer blue, shimmering against the candlelight.

   “What does it do?” Emma asked as she made it as comfortable as she could manage.

   “It amplifies your natural abilities like a…microphone! Or a pooper-scooper.”

   “Do I want to know what one of those is?” Clara wondered dubiously, wrinkling her nose at the image the name had concocted in her head.

   “Probably not. But I’ve got a whole collection somewhere in the Tardis that I’ll show you once we’ve concluded this business.”

   “What exactly is this arrangement?” Palmer didn't appear as impressed as Clara at what the Doctor had been able to make, using just the power of his imagination.

   “A psychochronograph,” the Doctor answered whilst wriggling into an old harness.

   “Forgive me…but isn’t this all a little bit…make do and mend?”

   “Non-psychic technology won’t work where I’m going. Listen…all I need to do is dive into another dimension, find the time traveller, help her escape the monster, get home before the entire dimension collapses and Bob’s your uncle!”

   “I still don’t think that’s a good plan,” Clara argued, a point she’d been trying to get across since his intentions had become clear.

   “It’s the only plan we have. It’s the only shot we have at reaching the pocket universe. We can’t risk taking the Tardis. That sort of dimension hopping would drain her energy reserves in a matter of seconds. We wouldn’t be able to reasonably get there and back whilst also saving Hila Tacorian.”

   “I know that. But you shouldn’t be making that journey on your own. What if you get stuck? What if the monster attacks you? What if Hila is heavier than she looks? You could do with someone else by your side.”

   “I’m not listening.”

   “I want to go with you.”

   “Absolutely not. It’s too dangerous.”

   “But not too dangerous to risk your life.”

   “Precisely. At least you’re starting to understand.”

   “Doctor…”

   “No, Clara! I’m not having this discussion. Far too many times, I’ve allowed my friends to believe that they have to make the brave choices in order to travel with me. They see me as an example to follow and I’m not going to let that misconception carry on for any longer. Not with you. I told you that I’d give you danger, yes, but there are limits. And limits to my patience too if you keep bringing it up.”

   Clara took a few steps back, biting her lip to stop herself from saying something else, to stop herself from going too far and forcing the Doctor into sterner action. It felt like this was a discussion they’d had plenty of times before, with the old Time Lord too haunted by his own ghosts, let alone the ones they were hunting, to see Clara as her own person. Every adventure they went on, she would be viewed in the context of all the other companions who had come before. Would he ever be able to extricate himself from the past?

   “Doctor?” Emma said quietly, perhaps a welcome interruption. “Will it hurt?”

   He leaned in to look her in the eyes. “No. Well…yes, probably. A bit. Well, quite a lot. I don’t know. It might be agony. To be perfectly honest, I’ll be interested to find out.” He was soon picking up on the deep glares sent his way by Clara and Palmer, forcing him to change tact. “But what we know for certain is that Hila Tacorian is definitely going through agony and, if there’s a chance that we can put an end to that, I believe we have to try our damndest.”

   Emma’s expression became more resolute after his small speech, particularly after she received a reassuring nod from the professor. She closed her eyes, exhaling slowly. “I’m talking to the last soul that abides in this place.” She paused, waiting for a response that didn't come. “I’m speaking to Hila Tacorian.” 

   Her breathing became more ragged, signalling the return of the whizzing, floating black disc from before. Her face contorted into a strained grimace and the disc shattered in front of them into shards of light, illuminating the doorway, transforming it into some sort of crazed portal. A heavy wind picked up, threatening to dislodge the equipment that was making this all possible. Clara shielded her face with an outstretched arm, beginning to worry that she would topple over, something which happened far too regularly when she was around the Doctor.

   “See?” he yelled over the din. “The Witch of the Well! It’s a wormhole! A reality well! A door to the echo universe!” He gripped a length of rope, looking at Emma. “Ready?”

   “Ready!” came her shriek in response.

   Clara was forced to watch as he cracked his neck a couple of times, muttered some words of encouragement to himself, and then ran head first into the eye of the storm. He didn't look back, leaving her behind with the others. The wild cacophony of sound continued to rip through the room, tossing sheets of paper and discarded photographs into the air, a whirlwind forming around them. And yet Clara didn't take her eyes off the wormhole, as the Doctor had called it, waiting for him to return. If time acted differently in that alternate dimension, then it suggested that, no matter how long his efforts took, he would likely be back within a few seconds. But that meant each agonising tick of the hand on the clock shifted excruciatingly slowly.

   All she could focus on was the rapid rate in which the rope was disappearing, signalling just how far he was travelling. Would he be able to endure and survive such a tormented journey? If anyone could, it would be him but it wasn’t a thought that filled Clara with much hope. She shouted out, calling him back, as if he could possibly hear her when she could barely decipher her own words whilst they battled against the wind. Palmer could seemingly sense her eagerness to get closer to the portal, holding her back despite her best efforts to dislodge herself from his strong grip. 

   Whilst she battled against a terrestrial force, Emma was being tortured by something clearly not of this plane. She screamed out once again, tears brimming her eyes, the noises coming from her so guttural and visceral that they were, at times, beyond comprehension. The professor was obviously caught between preventing Clara from doing something rash and foolish, and ensuring that the other woman didn't push herself too far. In the end, it wasn’t a decision that plagued him for long, letting go of Clara so that he could support Emma, holding onto her shoulders to keep her grounded.

   “Doctor!” the empath cried. “Doctor! Doctor! Come home! Doctor! We’re here!”

   The friction of the ropes coming back was so strong that it made an audible noise, skidding against the metal container that housed them. Clara allowed herself to be optimistic, anticipating the Doctor’s face to reappear at any moment. Instead, it was a woman who bundled through the dimensional gateway, stumbling onto the floor. Hila Tacorian. The Doctor had succeeded in not only locating her but also in bringing her back, returning her to a more stable universe. If the Doctor was quick in following the stranded time traveller though the bright opening, then Clara would have even considered breaking her usual habit and complimented his continued brilliance.

   Except this so-called stable universe didn't feel remotely like that. The wind continued to roar, spreading chaos throughout Caliburn House. Emma fell to her knees through her persistent effort, Palmer now completely ignoring Clara in the face of his friend suffering. Clara didn't know how she knew it, just that she could sense the portal’s power beginning to diminish, threatening to close. But the Doctor was still on the other side. She would kill him if he made it through, just for taking so long, as if he was doing it on purpose to torture her. No doubt, he’d grown curious about the supposed monster on the other side, wasting time to fulfil his insatiable hunger for knowledge when he should have been putting his life first.

   Perhaps it was always going to be down to Clara to do that, to save him from himself when he didn't even realise he needed saving. With Hila safely through, the explorer breathing heavily and touching the solid floor like she couldn’t believe it was real, Clara moved over to her. There was no time for greetings or rushed assurances that they were happy to see her alive. Clara focused on removing the rope around her, tying it instead around herself. She chose not to look back, knowing that any hesitation would either clue them into what she was planning to do or give the portal enough time to close before she could use it.

   It was a rash decision, yes. The sort that the Doctor would complain about. But Clara ran into the storm, jumped…and hoped for the best.

Chapter Text

The first thing that Clara’s senses picked up on was that the ground wasn’t as hard as she might have expected, but that it still wasn’t exactly like landing on a pillow. She could taste dirt in her mouth and she spat to get the worst of it, running her tongue against the edge of her teeth as she recovered from the almighty fall. She could feel a few twigs in her hair but she didn't have the energy to deal with that suspected mess, realising that personal appearances weren’t that important after going through interdimensional travel. Interdimensional travel without the Tardis safely protecting her, or any other capsule for that matter. 

   It was probably a miracle that she was still alive, though that wasn’t going to make her feel any more grateful for the dirt and twigs. For a few moments, Clara chose to process the fact that she had survived. It had certainly been a risk, electing to jump through a portal that didn't necessarily have an end, and a portal that was on the brink of closing. But, with all her limbs intact, it seemed that it had worked out for the best, or at least the best of a whole host of troublesome alternatives. To think that she was just a young woman who had been working two different jobs to get by, craving adventure through any means necessary, and now she was standing in a pocket universe. 

   Sometimes, you had to be wary of what you asked for.

   Said pocket universe didn't look that much different from what she was used to. As Clara slowly lifted her head from the ground, hearing it crack painfully, she took in her immediate surroundings. It was, by all accounts, a forest, nothing too spectacular. Perhaps it was easy to raise your expectations when you visited your first alternate dimension and, at the moment, it wasn’t necessarily living up to her imagined standards. It was fairly misty, making it difficult to see, but, again, that wasn’t too dissimilar from what you could predict to find in the English countryside. The weather was always dreadful and bleak there. Maybe that’s where she’d ended up. Epping forest. Maybe somewhere in the North, judging by the gloominess. It was entirely possible that she’d taken a wrong turn in the portal, which really wouldn’t have helped anyone, especially the Doctor.

   It was when her gaze finally reached the sky high above that it became abundantly clear that she wasn’t in a typical forest. Through the mist, Clara could just make out its gloomy appearance. It was dark, which didn't come as a surprise. But it was empty, devoid of the stars she so cherished staring at when night descended. The stars that she’d come to know intimately and would hopefully continue to do so as she explored the universe. Unless she was stuck in this strange reality. A chill ran down her spine that might have been caused by the encroaching cold, but was likely down to the thought of never seeing those stars again, the ones that had given her hope of a life of greater meaning. 

   “What the hell are you doing here?”

   In a world that was so painfully empty, any shout was going to get her attention. When it was from close by, there was no chance she was going to ignore it, the exclamation making her wince. The reaction was caused more by who the voice belonged to rather than its proximity to her eardrums. Clara had known that this was going to be a difficult conversation, though she had put that right at the bottom of the list of her concerns when she’d been charging at the diminishing portal. Getting to her feet, her eyes landed on the Doctor, standing surprisingly close by, as if he’d been right next to the portal when it had closed. That thought alone was enough to make her feel an indignant anger.

   It was, by all appearances, an anger that was shared by the Time Lord, perhaps one of even more ferocity. Clara doubted that she’d ever seen him this furious before and she hoped that it would never happen again, even if she wasn’t feeling apologetic about the choices she’d made. The Doctor was physically seething, his chest rising and falling heavily as he scowled at her. His appearance was slightly bedraggled, his bowtie off centre and his tweed jacket not as neatly kept as it usually was. He bore all the hallmarks of someone who had been in a hotly contested chase, which wasn’t the sort of thing she wanted to consider.

   Because what, exactly, had he been running from? Unless he’d been charging towards something, an act that might not have made any sense if she’d been dealing with literally anyone else. But the Doctor was precisely the sort of person who saw danger or something potentially curious and ran straight for it without much second thought. Just as she had done when she’d looked upon the portal. When she thought about it like that, the Doctor had no right to be angry with her since she’d been behaving in exactly the same way as he would have done. He’d trained her to be like this, even over the relatively short time they’d spent together. 

   Somehow, she doubted that that line of argument was going to land too well with the Doctor.

   “I told you to stay behind!” he yelled.

   “And I listened to your instructions…” she countered as innocently as she could muster.

   “Evidently not! Otherwise you wouldn’t be standing in front of me. You’d be safe and sound with the others!”

   “If you’ll let me finish…I followed your orders, which is something that’s quite difficult for me to do, I’ll have you know…until it became apparent that I had no other choice to ignore what you’d said.”

   “And why was that?”

   “Emma was struggling to maintain the connection, especially once Hila had come through safely. I wasn’t about to let the portal close with you on the other side.”

   “All you’ve succeeded in doing is ensuring that we’re both stuck in the wrong dimension.”

   “I’d rather take our chances when we’re together rather than divided.”

   “That wasn’t your decision to make, Clara! There are certain rules that you have to follow if you want to travel with me. And that includes following orders that relate to your own safety. What if you hadn’t survived the journey? What if it had closed with you partway through, leaving you trapped in the void for the rest of eternity? It would have been a fate worse than death.”

   “That didn't happen…”

   “But it could have done!” He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “It could have done…” Some of his initial anger was dissipating, replaced by a weary frustration that was encapsulated by a sigh. “It was too much of a risk.”

   Clara wasn’t going to back down. “Doctor…I’m not going to apologise. If I was presented with that same choice, I wouldn’t have changed anything. When you care about someone so deeply…you’d do anything to help them, even if it means putting yourself in harm’s day, even if it means attempting to traverse across different worlds.”

   Clara was probably more scared about admitting the presence of any feelings than she was of any retribution that the Doctor could hand out. She was hoping that, by including it as a throwaway comment in the middle of her response, it would get overlooked. Then again…was that truly what she wanted? Because it felt rather good to put it out in the open, despite the fact that they couldn’t remotely consider having that conversation given the present circumstances. She scanned the Doctor’s face, looking for any clues in his reaction, watching as his eyes widened whilst he processed what she’d said.

   “And when you care about someone just as deeply, you don’t want to watch them potentially throw their lives away,” he countered.

   Clara might have floated away in response, joining the non-existent stars in the sky. There had been times when she’d thought that the Doctor might be thinking about her in that way. The impromptu kiss they’d shared on Christmas Eve was certainly testament to that, regardless of his attempts to claim he hadn’t kissed back. But he was a person who was often so much more than anything that could be defined by simple human emotions, making her doubt that anything further than their current relationship could happen. If it all it took for him to admit such a possibility was real was her jumping through a fracturing portal, then she’d do it every day of the week.

   “I’m by your side, no matter what,” she assured him. “Admit it…you’re a little happy that I’m here with you.”

   “No,” the Doctor replied instantly, before the barest of smirks appeared. “Do you know how frustrating it is when you don’t listen?”

   “I imagine it must be infuriating. And yet…I reckon I’ll keep getting away with it.”

   “You’re not getting away with it now, are you? Because we’re trapped, with no means of getting out of this reality before it eventually crumbles.” He looked at his watch, exaggerating the action. “By my calculations, that isn’t going to be very long. Pocket universes never last long, especially when strained to the extent they have been by us poking around.”

   “Then at least you’re not going to die alone.”

   “Clara…”

   “What? No one deserves that fate.”

   “You shouldn’t be so willing to throw your life away as if you don’t think it’s important. It terrifies me when I think about how reckless you are at times.”

   “Trust me, it’s not like I want to die. I very much enjoy living, particularly since meeting you.”

   “Then you should have stayed on the other side of the opening.”

   “And what would the point be in living if I didn't have you in it, hmm? Believe it or not, Doctor, but you’ve become integral to my very existence.”

   “This isn’t making me feel any better,” he admitted as he leaned heavily against a tree. “Actually, it’s putting quite a lot of pressure on my shoulders.”

   “Not to mention the fact that, if you’d been forever locked in this universe, what would I have done? I would have been trapped in a time period that I don’t know.”

   “Emma and Palmer would have looked after you.”

   “I don’t think they want me interfering in their burgeoning relationship.”

   “...burgeoning relationship?” the Doctor echoed in disbelief. “Since when?”

   Clara rolled her eyes, risking stepping closer to him. “Oh, my dear Doctor. The intricacies of the universe you can understand, but anything blatantly staring you in the face you’re oblivious to. I shouldn’t be surprised. How could a Lord of Time ever stop to acknowledge something so small?”

   It was one of the many reasons why she hadn’t got her hopes up when it came to the two of them exploring a deeper connection. It was easy to forget because of his appearance that the Doctor wasn’t human, and quite far from it. The worst pain was falling in love with the adventurer when his eyes were always on the adventure , rather than the person he was undertaking it with. He’d never spoken about how romance worked on Gallifrey, suggesting that they either didn't have the time for it or that it was completely inconsequential in his world view.

   The Doctor gave her a curious look. “Who said that it’s small? Love is probably the most important thing in the universe! It dictates decisions, forces people into action, creates and destroys worlds. I just hadn’t noticed those two giving each other smouldering gazes, although I have been a little preoccupied.” He shook his head, as if he was still bemused by the notion. “Maybe you wouldn’t have stayed with them then, unless you wanted to be the ultimate third wheel. But I’m sure the Tardis would have taken you home.”

   “Because I know how to fly her?” 

   “She’s more capable on her own than you realise. You might have had to give her a little nudge of encouragement, that’s all. And there’s a hammer specifically designed to do just that.”

   “The point I’m trying to make is that I don’t want to go home, Doctor. How could normal life begin to compare with what I’ve seen.”

   “I’ve heard that Vastra, Jenny and Strax have to deal with plenty of abnormal things back in London. There’s always adventure to be found.”

   “As interesting a group as they are, they can’t compete with you. And that magical blue box.”

   “...you’re not going to give up on this, are you?”

   “Not in the slightest. But it’s good to see that you’re learning at last.”

   He laughed, even if it was a little bit strained. “Clara Oswald…sometimes I wonder what my life would have been like if our paths had never crossed…”

   “Infinitely more boring, I’m sure.”

   “You’re right about that.”

   The smile he sent in her direction was more than powerful enough to make her swoon, so she focused on going on the offensive to distract herself from the way her stomach was doing flips. “Anyway…you don’t really have any right to be disgruntled with me.”

   His eyes flashed, as if he was picking up on the challenge she was laying down. “I’m sure you’re going to explain that line of thinking…”

   “The portal was open long enough for Hila to come through and was still clinging onto life for some time after that. You were right by it, since you’re here now, where I came through. Which means you should have easily escaped from here yourself.” Clara put her hands on her hips, threatening to return to her demeanour as a governess. “The question is…why didn't you?”

   “Ah…”

   “Yes?”

   “You’ve successfully turned the tables on me, haven’t you?”
  “It’s one of my greatest skills.”

   “If you must know, I was incredibly close to finding the monster that was chasing Hila.” The Doctor was acting as if that was a perfectly acceptable reason to have stayed behind. “I couldn’t leave until I knew for sure what it was.”

   Clara’s glare would have scared even the meanest creatures in the universe, or at least the universe they were more accustomed to. “You mean this could have all been avoided if you’d simply not gone after the creature trying to kill you?”

   “We don’t know for sure that that’s what it was doing. Looks can be deceiving! It might have been trying to say hello but just has really poor social skills.”

   “Did you get a look at it then?”

   “...no. Its movements were too quick, even for my heightened senses.”

   “Doctor, your senses aren’t heightened.”

   “I thought you might have believed me for a little bit longer than that.”

   Clara paused, frowning at something that just clicked. “Doctor…”

   “Yes, I know that you’re unhappy with my decision making but do you really think I could have continued on with my life with that unsolved mystery plaguing me at night?”

   “No, it’s not that. I’m going to save a better time for shouting at you about that.” She looked at him warily. “If you were on the cusp of seeing it properly right as the portal collapsed…doesn’t that mean that it’s still going to be close by…”

   “Well, I suppose it does, yes.” The Doctor was evidently a bit slower on the uptake before realisation dawned. “Clara…we might be in a spot of bother here.”

   “I was getting that sense.”

   He grabbed her hand, a simple act of intimacy that had her heart racing just as violently as the thought of being tracked down by a potentially bloodthirsty monster. Clara wasn’t given the chance to fully appreciate the hint at the connection they were sharing, mainly because an ominous cracking sound echoed from nearby, far too close to comfort. It was like bones were being smashed together, creating a horrid picture in Clara’s mind. Was it a skeleton slowly approaching, a harbinger of death? Maybe that’s what was bound to happen to them if they stayed in this reality, their skin being torn apart by the toxic atmosphere. No wonder the stars had gone, because how could light shine down upon a world of such horrors?

   It was quite a morbid thought process to be going through.

   The Doctor pressed her up against the closest tree, presumably hoping that they still had the chance to hide from it. From the way he’d described it, it was unlikely that they were going to have much luck if they challenged it to a footrace. And, despite the growing concern about being eaten alive, Clara had to admit that she was rather enjoying having the Time Lord standing so impossibly close to her, looming over her like some sort of protector. She wasn’t going to say that out loud, only because she knew what he was like. Any mention of his heroic demeanour and he would grow all embarrassed, immediately shifting away and shrinking in stature. For as long as she could maintain her composure, she wasn’t going to risk losing the sensation of their two bodies coming together.

   “Do you think it saw us?” she whispered.

   “Do you want me to answer truthfully?” he asked.

   “Well, now I know whatever answer you give me is going to be a lie.”

   “If we think positively, we could believe that it doesn’t actually possess the capacity for sight.”

   “It might be blind?”

   “We can’t rule anything out.”

   “Do you think that’s a possibility?”

   “I mean, I have no evidence either way. Of course, the issue with that would be that, if it can’t see, its other senses will be massively amplified, leaving us just as vulnerable.”

   “I really think you need to work on your motivational speeches, Doctor.”

   The ground rumbled underneath their feet and, for a second, Clara thought that that meant the monster was about to attack. Was it powerful enough to prompt some sort of earthquake? The air around them seemed to shimmer, as if reality was threatening to break down. What was worse? Getting eaten or having the universe collapse with them still inside? It was a difficult question to answer, given she was yet to experience just how painful each option was. Being removed from existence was probably quicker, which was a major positive. Yet she was still holding out hope for them finding a way to avoid both outcomes.

   “Oh, she’s brilliant!” the Doctor exclaimed, moving away, much to Clara’s visible disappointment. “And a lot tougher than she believes!”

   “What are you talking about?”

   Except there was no need for an explanation because, as soon as she was away from the cover of the tree, she was able to see the manor house standing not too far from them. It was Caliburn House, somehow transported to the edge of the bleak forest, phasing in and out of existence until it eventually solidified. Clara wiped her eyes, believing that it couldn’t have possibly been a real sight, like an oasis presenting itself to a person on the brink of dehydration and starvation. 

   “How…how is she doing that?”

   “Why don’t you ask her once we’re reunited?”

   Emma’s voice called out to them, shouting their names. The Doctor was once again holding Clara’s hand, prompting a sprint towards the building. They were forced to pick up their speed when they heard a deep roar coming from behind. Clara glanced back, sure that she’d spotted a brief glimpse of a deformed creature amongst the outcropping of trees. Her legs were burning with the pace she was moving at, basically dragging the Doctor, perhaps to his surprise. When he skidded to a halt just as they made it to the front doors, she thought he was about to complain about their usual roles being reversed.

   “What are you doing?” Clara complained.

   “Oh, I’ve been a massive idiot!”

   “Not as idiotic as you’re being for standing still!”

   “I’ve been blind to what’s been right in front of me, whilst I was claiming the monster couldn’t see. That’s the sort of embarrassing irony no one likes to suffer from, especially me.”

   “What are you talking about?”

   “The psychic projections…the breaking of barriers between universes…that all happened in the main hall of the house.”

   “...okay?”

   “Any physical breaches were strictly in that geographical location. So why did you feel someone touching your hand in the heart of the house?”

   Clara’s frown deepened. “...I don’t know.”

   “You said it yourself! Caring for someone so deeply is enough motivation to traverse universes! What if there isn’t just one monster? What if there’s actually one in Caliburn House too?”

   “And what? They’re trying to get to each other?”

   “This isn’t a ghost story, Clara. It’s a love story! Two of the same species, their love transcending dimensions. They should make a film about it.”

   “So…when it was chasing Hila…and chasing us now…”

   “It’s been trying to piggyback with us through the portal created by Emma! What do you say, Clara? Do you want to give it a lift and risk getting torn apart? Are you a believer in true love?”

   She looked up at him, smiling softly. “I think I am, yes.”

Chapter Text

 Clara wondered what Emma and the others would have been expecting when the portal reopened. They must have been anticipating the return of her and the Doctor, naturally, since that was the only reason why the empath was being put through her paces once again. When a great, big, ugly monster came barrelling through the dimensional opening after they’d fallen through themselves, it must have therefore been a stupendous shock. It was no wonder then that, once she’d returned to her senses and the room was no longer spinning, Clara looked up to see the awaiting trio with matching pale faces. Whilst Emma had an excuse for looking like that, the reason for Palmer and Hila’s expressions was exemplified by the door to the room now hanging off its hinges. 

   She was brought to a standing position by the Doctor’s surprisingly strong grip, pulling her up after they’d both come crashing to the floor. Instead of letting her go, like Clara had initially expected, she was instead enveloped in a tight hug. It felt like the Doctor was doing his best to make sure that she was okay, proving to himself that she was still alive through physical touch. Clara wasn’t going to complain about that anytime soon, hoping that this was a sign of things to come. After learning about the monster’s true intentions and how its actions closely mirrored her and the Doctor’s time together, she was curious to see whether they would continue to travel down a similar path.

   “Do I want to know what just happened?” Palmer asked wearily.

   “Did you…did you really bring that thing with you?” Hila wondered, staring with her mouth agape at the damage it had already caused.

   “That thing is in love,” the Doctor argued. “And, sometimes, that’s all that matters. Though, professor, you may want to consider selling the house.”

   Palmer eyed him curiously, and a touch suspiciously. “Why?”

   “Because those two lovebirds have been separated for a very long time and I’d hate to think what their mating sounds like.”

**********

   “Are we really just going to leave them?”

   Back inside the Tardis, Clara was reflecting on the events she’d just been through. More than any other, this past adventure had seemed to leave a lasting impact on her, which was quite a feat when she looked back on how amazed she’d been upon seeing her first star up close. Or even when she’d first bumped into the Doctor, which had set her upon this unexpected course. But making the decision to be like the Doctor, facing danger without any concern for her wellbeing, and jumping into the portal had shown her, once and for all, that she was cut out for this life. The element of doubt that had been plaguing her up to now had faded. 

   Fighting the ice governess had involved a lot of following the Doctor’s trail, eventually needing to be saved. Whilst she’d been brave enough to stand up against the Ice Warrior, that had ultimately just been about talking, appealing to his kinder side. But this time around had revolved around her being the one to do the saving. Who knew what might have happened if she hadn’t gone after the Doctor, despite his strong protests for her to do exactly the opposite? Even if Emma had created the portal to allow him to come back, the lack of Clara’s involvement may have prevented the Doctor from coming to the realisation of the monster’s true plan. She wasn’t going to take all the credit (not out loud, at least) but it was entirely possible that she’d saved the creature’s life before the pocket dimension had closed forever. 

   The Doctor was standing by the console, probably setting the destination for their next impossible chapter. It gave Clara the perfect opportunity to unashamedly watch him in action, admiring the man in his element. The true reason why this latest adventure had changed her was standing right in front of her. The Doctor had only been able to figure out the monster’s romantic tussle because it seemingly resonated with his own experiences. And now the temptation to ask him about that particular topic was growing, threatening to consume her. Saying the words would likely be the easy part. Dealing with the consequences was a lot more frightening. Being brave enough to save her friend was one thing, but to then show courage in the effort of changing that relationship into something more…well, it almost didn't bear thinking about.

   “They’re extremely well adapted to keeping to the shadows,” the Doctor explained absentmindedly. “If they don’t want to be spotted, then they won’t be. And…if they are, it’ll simply add to the ghost stories that already surround Caliburn House, don’t you think. I’m always onboard with adding to mysteries, especially when I’m one of the few who knows the truth about them.”

   In truth, Clara had only presented the quandary for selfish reasons. As much as she was concerned about what would happen if two aliens were to procreate and suddenly spread across the planet, the question served as a means for her to ease herself into the situation. She was once again alone with the Doctor, following these inner personal dilemmas, and it was a more daunting prospect than anything she’d been forced to deal with up to now. And that included handling rowdy drunkards at the Rose and Crown. Being surrounded by the others in the old house had enabled her to avoid the worst of her musings. There was a heavy reliance on asking the Doctor mundane questions to further avoid the more weighted ones.

   “Isn’t it a bit…risky?”

   “Everything has its risks, Clara!”

   It was like he was talking directly to her desires, which only increased her silent torment. There was every chance that he was going through the same thing, although he was doing a very good job in hiding it. In fairness, Clara believed that she was also being rather successful at not giving anything away through her demeanour. If the Doctor happened to look away from his console, which didn't seem likely to occur given the rapt attention he was giving it, then he wouldn’t have been able to detect any of her unease. Or so she desperately hoped. The last thing she wanted was for him to ask her whether she was okay, since that would invariably cause the traitorous words to tumble from her traitorous mouth.

   She’d never been like this with a man before. Then again, there weren’t many candidates to rifle through. Captain Latimer had certainly made his intentions known towards her, even if he hadn’t meant to be making it so abundantly clear. Whilst it had been nice to be admired by such a wealthy and upstanding member of society, it hadn’t filled her with nervous butterflies. Not like now, with her stomach flipping from side to side. Whilst there had been the occasional childhood crush and the rare adolescent infatuation, Clara had always been able to dictate just how far the emotions went, rather than them controlling her actions.

   It seemed that they were wanting to be placed firmly in command for a change this time around.

   “You won’t be saying that if they suddenly discover a taste for human flesh,” she countered. Surely talking about human flesh would be enough to distract her.

   The Doctor finally glanced in her direction, if only to give her a wary stare. “Has anyone ever told you that your mind can be a rather dark place?”

   “The children used to love what my twisted imagination could come up with, thank you very much.”

   He smiled, going back to working at the console, and Clara sighed in relief. She risked moving further into the clutches of the Tardis, creating more space and a hasty getaway if she made a misstep. As long as they remained on terra firma , the chances of her speaking her mind were much higher than if they were in the endless void of space. That was solely because she could run away when the inevitable rejection came. Sure, she would have to live with Palmer, Emma and Hila, along with the potentially carnivorous beasts, but it would at least spare her blushes.

   “If you’re really concerned, I’ll keep tabs on activity in the local area and, if they start misbehaving, we’ll hop right back and find them a more suitable home.”

   “Just like we did with that other species.”

   “I’m not liking our descent into becoming an intergalactic taxi service. I’ll have to start charging.”

   Clara pulled a face. “Does that mean that you’ll make me pay as well?”

   “Of course not!” he argued. “The last time I checked, you had no money of any value on your person, so it would be a completely lost cause.” 

   She put her hands on her hips, not that he saw. “That’s the only reason?”

   “You normally laugh at my jokes. Is everything alright?”

   Clara’s eyes threatened to bulge out of their sockets. Biting her lip was the only thing stopping her from spilling every little secret that she’d ever kept, most of which weren’t even related to her growing feelings towards the Time Lord. Her fists were clenched so tightly that her nails were digging painfully into her palms, providing a harsh sensation for her to mind fixate on instead of the thumping of her heart. The issue was that she couldn’t remain silent, either, otherwise he would then know for certain that something was wrong with her. Whichever option she chose, she was being led down a treacherous path.

   “Have you forgiven me yet?” she wondered.

   The Doctor, sensing an important topic approaching, abandoned his task for a second time in quick succession. “Is that what’s been worrying?”

   “I’ve seen you angry a few times now, but nothing like what you were like in the other universe.”

   “Well…you did go against an express order.”

   “I’m not a soldier. I didn't sign a contract, binding me to follow your every word.”

   “When you walk through those doors, you sign an unwritten contract. That involves obeying instructions when it revolves around your safety.”

   “It worked out for the best,” Clara tried to argue.

   “It might not do so next time. That’s what I’m always worried about. You were just lucky today that Emma was strong enough to put herself through the psychic load so soon after collapsing. Next time…fortune might not be on your side.”

   “I know you worry…”

   “It’s more than simple worry, Clara. It’s a burning fear that would keep me up at night if I ever chose to sleep on a regular schedule. We haven’t known each other relatively long, particularly when compared to my lifespan, but you’ve already made yourself vital to me. In the pocket dimension, you mentioned that I’ve become integral to your existence. Trust me, Clara, that it works both ways.”

   She smiled, a reaction that probably confused him, not that she truly cared. It wasn’t just his admission that she was incredibly important to him. That would have been plenty enough to make Clara feel like floating away on a happy cloud. But, combined with the knowledge that he’d evidently been thinking about their conversation whilst they’d been trapped, the evidence seemed to be lining up in her favour. Because, if he was willing to bring it up, then there was every possibility that was a certain reason why that was.

   “Maybe that’s how it’s going to work then. We’re going to travel with each other until the end of time, whilst the two of us constantly worry about the other’s safety. It almost seems fair.”

   “I can already feel myself going grey. I’ll look like an old man by the time we’re done.”

   “I think you could probably suit grey hair. Not that I’m wanting you to change…”

   “I’ll keep that point locked away for later, just in case.”

   “Are we good then? You’re not going to take me home for being too rebellious?”

   He smirked, that dashing smile that was powerful enough to make her willing to do anything . “Clara Oswald…how could I banish you for being rebellious when I practically invented that? The Tardis would have kicked me out centuries ago if they were the rules! And, even if I did try to push you away, I get the sense that you’d find your way back to me. It was bad enough when I first met you. You wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

   “I’m relieved that I didn't,” she said.

   “Me too,” he agreed, a tad bashfully.

   Clara leant against a metal railing close to the centre of the room, hoping to look more casual than she was feeling. “Did you see Emma and Palmer as we left?”

   It had been surprisingly difficult to say goodbye to the pair, particularly the woman who had brought them home. The Doctor was never one for prolonged stays, meaning they were now leaving soon after the events of their hasty rescue, with Emma still recovering from the worst of the effects of her mental strain. Despite having only been with them for one day, Clara was grateful to them for being a central part of the personal growth she was currently contending with. It had been Emma who had claimed that love was stronger than anything, the one thing that could last forever, a sentiment that had fuelled their later discovery.

   “Of course I did. I shook their hands. I even gave them each a pair of French air kisses for a touch of extravagance, even if that was done to soften the blow after telling them that Emma and Hila are actually related.”

   “Not that,” Clara corrected him with a roll of her eyes. “I’m pretty certain that I saw them sharing their first kiss as we were walking away.”

   The Doctor’s hand slipped, causing him to almost bang his head against the console. “How…fitting.”

   “They must have taken onboard the lesson that the two monsters were following.”

   “It’s a good thing that people sometimes listen. You’d be surprised at how infrequently it happens.”

   “It really resonated with something you said…when we were alone.”

   “I say a lot of things, Clara,” the Doctor murmured awkwardly. “You might have to enlighten me.”

   “Do you really believe that love is the important thing we can strive for?”

   “It can change the universe, for definite. It can start wars, topple empires, create sparks of innovation, fuel high art and prompt heartbreaking choices. Love, in all its forms, is often the only thing worth living for.”

   She risked taking a step closer. “Have you…ever loved someone?”

   His face was hard to read. “Yes.”

   “Yes? That’s all I’m getting?”

   “What more is there to say?”

   “You lost them?”

   “That seems to be the pattern of my life.”

   “And yet you still think it’s so brilliant?”   

   “I must be an old fool.”

   “Are you…still looking for love?”

   “I could never replace those special people in my life. But also not stupid enough to forget that the universe has a funny knack of throwing more of those into my path.”

   Clara really wanted to believe that he was referring to her. “Doctor?”

   “Yes, Clara?”

   “Do you remember when we first met?”

   “It’s something that’ll be hard to forget.”

   “When we were in Captain Latimer’s house. I…kissed you. And you kissed me back, no matter if you tried to argue that you didn't.”

   He pulled at his collar, his cheeks colouring. “Maybe we should see where the Tardis wants to take us…”

   Clara grabbed a hold of his sleeve, forcing him to stay in place. “We risked our lives on the off chance that love was within the grasp of that monster. We had no way of knowing for sure that it wasn’t just hungry. We chose to believe in that power and it paid off.”

   “That’s…certainly one way of looking at it, yes.”

   “Do you think that it’s worth taking another risk? In the name of love, that may or may not exist?”

   “You’re the one who first made that leap, jumping through the portal to come after me…”

   Clara made the leap for a second time, pulling his face down so that their lips could meet. And there was absolutely no doubt that this time, the Doctor was returning the kiss.

Chapter Text

The Tardis landed with its customary thump, even if the Doctor had tried his best to make its arrival more subtle than usual. He was in no doubt that his ship had done it on purpose, knowing what he was up to. Was it his fault that he wanted to sneak out without Clara realising? He was allowed to be stealthy when the mood inspired him. With his companion some place deeper in the Tardis, presumably resting in between adventures in her bedroom, it had been the perfect opportunity to go on a little trip of his own. Even his attempts to get away with the ship’s inherent clumsiness, rushing towards the doors, proved not to be successful.

   The Doctor sighed when he heard the hurried footsteps coming up behind him, Clara having somehow navigated the vast network of corridors like an expert. Just as he’d wanted to avoid, the Tardis reaching its destination had alerted her to something going on, and her insatiable curiosity wasn’t going to be fulfilled until she had some answers. Which put him in a rather tricky position. He’d wanted it to be a surprise. A small treat, nothing. He glared up at the console, getting the sense that his home would have been laughing at him if she were able to do so. His hands were placed on the door, signalling just how close he’d gotten to escaping.

   Clara’s eyes narrowed. “What are you doing?”

   “Nothing too interesting,” he answered evasively, trying to figure out a way of getting out of this conundrum.

   “I find that hard to believe, given how shifty you’re acting.”

   There might have been another reason for his odd demeanour. An awkward air had descended around them since the incident . He wasn’t complaining that it had happened. Far from it. It had been extremely enjoyable. Gold star. Top of the class. But it felt now that they didn't know how to act around one another, mainly because they hadn’t actively discussed the event . The Doctor wasn’t used to being in this position. He was normally a lot more controlled when it came to matters of the heart. It wasn’t as if he was still in his Sandshoes phase, a man who seemed to revel in women’s attention.

   “Thanks to my previous job, I know how to read men,” Clara continued, her hands now on her hips whilst she slowly stalked towards him, akin to a lion about to pounce on the poor, unwitting gazelle. The only difference was that the Doctor knew that the attack was imminent, and yet he remained frozen in place. “And, as much as you try to deny it, Doctor, you’re just like any other man.”

   “I resent that assertion.”

   “The only way to prove me wrong is to tell me what you’re up to.”

   The Time Lord smirked at her cleverness, at the carefully laid trap she’d set in front of him. Either he did exactly as she wanted and divulged his secrets, or he was forced to suffer the ignominy of such a harsh insult. Clara would have known that his ego was too large and, at the same time, fragile to survive those taunts, meaning that he was left with no other option. The Doctor may have been impressed at how much she’d grown since she’d stepped foot in the Tardis, if her brilliance hadn’t been weaponised against him. There weren’t many people who could successfully twist such a potent web before him, but Clara Oswald was definitely a part of that exclusive club.

   “I was simply popping out,” he told her, holding his hands up as if he’d been caught committing a crime. “Just a little errand whilst you were otherwise preoccupied.”

   Clara didn't look convinced. “Are you sure that you’re not saving a planet without my help?”

   “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

   “Because I don’t want what happened between us to start making you act weird. Or weirder than usual, at least. I wouldn’t have taken the risk, otherwise.”

   The Doctor closed the gap between them, holding her hands and pecking her lightly on the forehead. “I can safely assure you that I want you by my side for all planet-saving endeavours. You have my word. I cross my hearts and hope to die.”

   “That’s a little extreme, don’t you think?”

   “Not if it works in maintaining your peace of mind.”

   “Are you going to tell me where we are then? Can’t I know that at least?”

   “You’re not going to let me leave until I do, aren’t you?”

   “It’s nice to see that you know me so well. And, if you tried to run away and lock me inside here, which I strongly advise you not to do, I’m pretty sure that I could work the monitor to find out for myself. The Tardis would help me, even if I don’t fully understand the technology.”

   “Because she’s exactly the sort of traitorous ship who’d work behind my back.” 

   He made a point of saying that louder, potentially deafening Clara. It was worth the risk, wanting to make it clear to the Tardis that he was far from impressed with her latest behaviour. Why she’d made such a song and dance out of a routine landing, he’d never know. As it was, the console emitted a few chirps in response, which would have made for some extremely fruity language if it had been translated. Even so, he covered Clara’s ears, as if to save her from hearing such foul utterings.

   “Doctor?” she asked, looking up at him with those large, brown eyes of hers.

   “Yes, Clara?” he returned softly, knowing that he was getting sucked into her gaze.

   “ Tell me .”

   “If you must really know, we’re in France!” He danced up to the console, pulling up a map on the monitor so that she could see he was telling the truth. “Paris, to be precise. Twenty-first century, to be even more accurate.”

   “And…why are we here? What are you planning? What errands could you possibly have to do in France?”

   “That’s a surprise.”

   “A surprise?”

   “Something for me to know and you to find out at a later date, one that isn’t too far in the future, so I don’t know why you’re complaining.”

   “I’m not complaining!” she argued with a laugh, watching him move giddily around. 

   “You were on the verge of complaining, so I preemptively neutralised that issue. I’m a Time Lord, Clara. I don’t always work in a linear, chronological order.”

   “Is that why you hardly ever make sense?”

   “How dare you? There are a myriad of other reasons for that!”

   Clara was smiling brightly, apparently being enthused by the same energy coursing through his body. “Is the surprise for me?”

   “Have you seen anyone else aboard the Tardis recently?”

   “Are you just trying to impress me? Now that we’ve…kissed?”

   “Clara…we shared a kiss during our first meeting. That means I’ve been trying to impress you ever since then, with varying levels of success! This is just the icing on the cake. The proverbial cherry, which I never understood as a saying, because anyone in their right mind takes off the cherry so that they could enjoy the dessert more easily.”

   “Who knew that the mighty Time Lord from Gallifrey could be so sweet?”

   The Doctor tried not to blush. “Don’t go telling anyone that. I’ve got a reputation to uphold. The Daleks would have a field day if they found out. The Cybermen would laugh at me, and that takes a lot to make happen, seeing as they’re not supposed to show any emotions.”

   Clara obviously didn't understand a word that he was saying, but she laughed all the same. Probably just to appease him. The notion that she’d be doing it because she actually found him funny and she actually enjoyed his company was almost too absurd to process. Yet she was trailing her fingers up his arm, each touch an electrifying sensation, and, if he wasn’t careful, he’d completely forget about the task at hand and attempt to impress her in an entirely different fashion.

   “Don’t take too long,” she murmured. 

   “You won’t even notice I’m gone,” he assured her. “Just don’t press any buttons whilst I’m out. I’d hate to come back and find that you’ve accidentally taken the Tardis to a different time period.”

   “Maybe this has been my plan all along. To lure you into a false sense of security and then steal your, quite frankly, gorgeous ship for myself.”

   “I hate to say it but I think it’d be a successful ruse. I can only congratulate you on that.”

   Clara rolled her eyes and gently pushed him towards the doors, a complete role reversal of what had originally stalled him. With one last instruction to be safe and to not keep her waiting, lest he wanted to risk never seeing the Tardis again, she left him on his own on a side street he’d parked on. The secluded alcove was the perfect spot to hide a blue box that tended to stand out, although the people walking along the main road once he emerged were too engrossed in their own personal business to have noticed even if he’d crashed right in front of them. 

   The Doctor knew which way he was going, visiting an old haunt that he often found an excuse to pop into. His idea had been to treat Clara to a fancy breakfast, despite the fact that time and its corresponding meals didn't always correlate inside the Tardis. His favourite bakery in the city would provide the delicate dishes, introducing Clara to a whole new world of refined food. He sincerely doubted that she would have ever tasted French cuisine before, given her background, and, even if she had, it wouldn’t have been as good as this. The original owner of the business had named him as a revered guest, thanks to a bread-related incident that had happened just after he and Romana had dealt with multiple copies of the Mona Lisa. That meant he was always given the best things on the menu.

   Perhaps he’d figure out how to properly work the Tardis’ cloaking device, allowing himself and Clara to enjoy the morning meal whilst the ship floated out of view beside the Eiffel Tower. Then he’d get to watch the way her eyes lit up as she took in the bustling city below. It would distract him entirely from enjoying what he’d gone to the effort of buying, but it would be totally worth it. Seeing the world, and the universe, through her fresh perspective was a daily reminder of what he’d missed out on for so long. He was simply making up for lost time.

   As he made his way towards his alluring destination, weaving in between various locals and tourists, the Doctor appreciated what he was doing. Clara seemed to have picked up on it too. Something had changed following their second kiss (and all the others that had quickly followed). He now wanted to dote upon her. He wanted to introduce her to the finest things that the universe had to offer. And it was frightening, because it was a clear sign of something he’d been trying to steer clear of. The Doctor was falling for her. Falling hard. Each trip in the Tardis wasn’t about potentially saving people anymore, not entirely. Each trip was just another way to amaze her. 

   He knew that he should have stopped her. He’d seen her approaching, seen the way her pupils had been dilated. She’d made it perfectly clear what she was going to do, giving him all the time he needed to back away. Yet that thought had never crossed the Doctor’s mind, which was the most alarming part about this new reality he was living in. He’d wanted her to do it, finally refusing to listen to the part of his head that always told him to play things safe when it came to his companions, to keep them at least a little bit distanced from him. In the end, Clara couldn’t have been much closer to him, showing how miserably he’d failed in preserving his usual tactics.

   Which was why he was now making a stop-off in France, ignoring the universe for a little while. Because Clara’s happiness was more important. Gosh, even his internal monologue sounded soppy now. What had he become? He’d defeated armies. He’d saved planets. He’d changed history and had saved futures. What was he doing now? Planning potential dates for himself and a woman who had done nothing more than kiss him. It wasn’t as if she’d outright said that she wanted anything more than that, but the prospect was too tantalising to miss out on.

   The easy part had been procuring the goods. The problem he quickly faced was that he’d gone slightly overboard. Three heavy paper bags were wrapped around both his wrists, weighed down by a selection of baked treats that all smelled heavenly. Added to that, he’d impulsively bought four large baguettes, which was obviously far too many when they were just serving two people. And their cumbersome size meant that they kept getting in the way of his line of sight as he attempted to walk back to the Tardis, precisely the reason why he walked into the road, not knowing that a car was coming.

   The Doctor felt a frantic tug on the back of his jacket and he was being thrown back to the busy pavement. The almost fatal bread fell to the ground, though at least the rest of the items were still safely ensconced in their respective bags. It felt like a strange thing to be focusing on, the survival of his pastries, but his head was spinning and he was struggling to comprehend what had happened. Had he almost been run over? That would have been the most embarrassing death he’d gone through, that was for sure. And the biggest question facing him was who had been the one to intervene on his behalf?

   With a groan, he turned on his back to get a better look at his guardian angel. It was a woman, from what he could tell. Her hair was partially covering her face from the fall, though the Doctor could just about make out the frown she was wearing. Evidently, saving a stranger from onrushing traffic hadn’t been on her to-do list that day. Ignoring his own pain to check on her, he pushed himself back up, rushing over to lend her a hand.

   “Are you alright?” the Doctor asked. “I should probably apologise for being so careless, shouldn’t I?”

   “I don’t think there’s anything probable about it,” the woman said.

   As she stood up, her face became clearer and the Doctor was overcome by confusion. It was Clara. But she was wearing a different outfit to the one he’d last seen her in, barely ten minutes before. He’d seen how long it took her to normally pick out clothes, meaning he doubted she’d have been able to change so quickly. Not to mention that her accent was different, much more Northern compared to the cockney twang he’d grown used to. And, unless she’d decided to have an incredibly hasty haircut during the time he’d left her, her brown curls had considerably shortened without explanation.

   “Clara? I thought I told you to stay in the Tardis! Don’t you ever listen to a word that I say?”

   “Did you bang your head? What are you talking about?”

   “This is just going to make you smug, isn’t it, Clara? You disobeyed an instruction but saved my life in the process. You’ll never take my advice ever again.”

   “I’m sorry…how do you know my name?”

   The Doctor pulled a face. “What do you mean?”

   “Have we met before?”

   “Of course we have! What sort of game are you playing? Could you not wait for your surprise? I’m hoping that the tarts aren’t too damaged. They’re to die for.”

   “Listen, I think that it might be best if we take you to the hospital…”

   “Hospital? I’m perfectly okay! It’s you who shouldn’t be here!”

   “I’m…on a school trip.”

   “Well, that just proves my point. You’re far too old to be at school.”

   “No…I’m a teacher.” She gestured to a group of children who were watching the spectacle unfold a short distance away. “I saw you heading for disaster and thought I’d intervene. My good deed for the day, that sort of thing. And, not to brag, but it’s going to give me a lot of brownie points with those kids. I’ll finally be the cool teacher.”

   The Doctor looked between her and her supposed pupils. “We’ve…we’ve never met before?”

   “I can’t say that we have. But I may have forgotten! I’m frustratingly scatter-brained at the best of times.”

   “And you don’t know I am? The Doctor?”

   “It doesn’t ring a bell. Or are you trying to tell me that you do need to go to the hospital?”

   “No, no.” The Doctor didn't know what was happening. Was he seeing things? “I’m…um…I’m sorry for being such a hassle.”

   She waved a dismissive hand. “Don’t mention it. You would have done the same if the roles were reversed.”

   “Yes…of course, of course.” 

   He wasn’t really focusing on the conversation any longer. His and her words fell on his eyes as if they were coming through water. Instead, he was paying close attention to her face. The exact same features he’d come to memorise. The brown eyes, filled with equal parts mirth and concern. The subtle dusting of freckles that you only saw when you were really up close. The lips that had been on his, driving him insane. That must have been what this was. He’d lost his mind, driven to the point of breaking because of his obsession over a woman. That was it. That made sense. He’d wake up any moment and realise he’d been dreaming about Clara, which people tended to do after what they’d shared.

   “Are you going to be okay?” she asked. “I can stay with you for a bit longer, if you want? I can call one of the other teachers to supervise this group. All we’re doing is waiting for the coach, anyway.”

   It was his turn to wave her away. “Don’t worry about me. Go on with your life, Clara . I’ll be fine.”

   She gave him one last, unsure smile before moving away, navigating the pointed questions and teasing of her students as she returned. She didn't look back at him as they carried on along the street, seemingly logging the incident as just one of those strange twists of fate. The Doctor was viewing it in exactly the same fashion, his head spinning as he watched her retreating form, the baked goods well and truly forgotten.

Chapter Text

The Doctor was acting strange. Which was some feat, given his normal standard of behaviour. Clara couldn’t quite put her finger on it, a struggle that was only adding to her frustrations. Maybe she’d been expecting too much. She’d taken a chance and they’d kissed. The initial period after that had been blissful, for more ways than one. Clara had risked believing that she’d made the right choice, picturing a reality where they got to travel across the universe, hand in hand. It was the sort of soppy and idealistic line of thinking that she’d never given in to before. The last thing she wanted was for that change in her mindset to be thrown right back at her face.

   But something had definitely changed following their short trip to Paris.

   It wasn’t as if she’d even wanted to go, which made the suffering all the worse. It was like Clara was being punished for a decision she hadn’t been a part of. The Doctor had left the Tardis, with a smile on his face and the promise of surprise on his lips, leaving her for a short while. Understandably, she’d gotten it into her head that he was on the verge of doing something extremely romantic. That’s what people did when they were possibly starting a relationship, right? And she’d heard plenty of stories about France’s reputation, particularly when it came to the capital, so she wasn’t to blame for getting her hopes up.

   Then the Doctor had returned to his ship, the smile no longer in place and the surprise seemingly forgotten. Unless the surprise was the sudden, inexplicable change in his demeanour. It wasn’t exactly the type of gift she could be grateful for. Clara had obviously asked him whether he was alright. His resulting answer had been brisk and barely convincing. The Tardis had been kicked into gear without a second thought, leaving the continent behind, and leaving Clara more confused than ever before. They’d been floating aimlessly ever since, no real destination in mind. She didn't think that he was in any mood to be given one either, which was why she wisely chose not to bring one up. It was one of the few times in her life that she’d kept her thoughts to herself.

   Maybe this was perfectly natural for a Time Lord. Maybe they had days like this, where the weight of all reality rested on their shoulders. Clara could understand that level of responsibility getting to them, souring their mood. What she couldn’t accept was the silence. That didn't mean that the Doctor didn't say anything to her. He was perfectly willing to talk whenever she plucked up the courage to start a conversation, although his responses were usually monosyllabic and frustratingly noncommittal. It was the fact that he wasn’t saying anything of any worth at the moment that was annoying Clara the most. The silence stemmed from his apparent inability to discuss his personal problems, a sticking point that she’d thought they’d moved on from ever since their escapade with the Ice Warrior had come to an end.

   It was likely that being cooped up inside the Tardis wasn’t doing them any good, even if not as much time had passed as she might have instinctively thought. Once they were back to their usual routine of running from danger, this short period of tension would be long forgotten. And, in all likelihood, the best way to get the Doctor to talk about his issues was to ensure his mind was distracted by a potentially world-ending event. The problem with that, of course, was to convince the Doctor to actually land the Tardis somewhere that wasn’t an empty spot in the Time Vortex. Whenever she’d brought up her increasinging boredom, he’d promptly told her that he was either looking into something, whatever that meant, or making repairs to his ship.

   So far, Clara hadn’t seen him get his hands dirty once, adding to her suspicions. Not to mention the fact that, the last time the Doctor had attempted to install some improvements to the Tardis, it had inadvertently relocated itself to the other side of the world. Which meant the thought of his current pastime wasn’t exactly abating any of her concerns. All she was wanting (and it didn't seem to be a lot to ask) was to get the show back on the road. She would have taken a dangerous threat knocking at the door if it meant it finally caused the Doctor to abandon his apparent funk (a phrase he’d once taught her during a time he’d actually wanted to talk to her).

   So, when the Tardis shuddered recognisably, Clara was hasty to race towards the console room from her private quarters on the ship. She wasn’t going to allow him to leave on his own again, given how badly that had turned out the last time. Thankfully, the Doctor was still standing by the controls once she’d navigated the endless seam of corridors. He was frowning at the monitor, which didn't come as a surprise. He’d been pulling that expression a lot lately, even when she was doing her best to be downright entertaining and funny.

   Clara approached with caution, as if running into view would startle him and make him run away. She tried to act casual, hoping that she wasn’t making it clear that she was desperate for something of note to be happening. Whatever it was, it must have been fairly interesting, because the Doctor didn't look up once from the monitor upon her arrival. Perhaps she’d been so good at tiptoeing into the main chamber that he hadn’t noticed. But Clara remembered a point in time, not too long ago, when he’d greet her return from solitude with an overexaggerated fanfare. When that had been the case, she’d found it borderline embarrassing. Now…well, she rather wished for it to come back.

   “We’ve landed,” she said, breaking the silence. 

   “Yes.” The Doctor didn't jump at the sound of her voice, which meant he had picked up on her appearance. A sour taste was left in her mouth at the thought of him purposefully ignoring her. “You sound surprised.”

   “Well, it isn’t like we’ve been racing from place to place the past couple of days.”

   “I’ve been busy.”

   “I know that’s what you’ve been saying but…”

   “But?”

   Clara sighed. “Something has been eating away at you. And it’s foolish of me to think that you’d want to share that with me…yet I thought we were close enough to do that now.”

   The Doctor’s expression was annoyingly difficult to read, though that wasn’t an uncommon event. It seemed that, over his many years, he’d learnt how to expertly control his emotions, keeping them hidden from view. If Clara hadn’t been so obsessive over his every move, she probably wouldn’t have noticed that anything was there, bubbling away under the surface. It was entirely plausible that he didn't expect a mere human to understand what was vexing him, nor did he expect a mere human to notice the change in the first place.

   “It’s not a problem that you can solve.”

   She wanted to growl in frustration. Why were men always like this? She’d presumed that a centuries-old guy from outer space would be more evolved than the typical boneheaded neanderthals she had to contend with at the Rose and Crown. But the Doctor was proving once again that even he couldn’t escape certain stereotypes. Such as a man’s ability to open up without feeling as if they were being overly vulnerable. Such as a man’s belief that bottling his emotions and letting them churn away inside his body was a much safer option than actually speaking them into existence.

   “It’s not about solving them,” Clara argued, taking a few steps towards him. He was still using the console as a shield, so much so that it was sometimes difficult to see the entirety of his face. “It’s about lessening their power over you by sharing them. They become…diluted once they’re spoken about.”

   “I’m sorry if I’ve made you feel uncomfortable recently…”

   “Is it something that I’ve done?”

   Of course, that was Clara’s greatest concern. It had always been a possibility that she’d say the wrong thing from the very start. She’d come close to being sent home once just because of her particular background, and she was worried that that cloud was still stubbornly hanging over her. Or, even more alarming, there was every chance that it was down to their recent closeness. Had she overstepped the mark? The Doctor was someone who’d grown exceptionally strong bonds with other people, and now he was being faced with that exact same dilemma. After losing all the other people in his life, was he building up his defences before it invariably happened again. 

   “I…don’t think so.”

   “What does that even mean?!” Clara could tell she was losing her patience but, rather than being worried about that, she was starting to believe that she had every right to be reaching that stage.

   “It’s difficult to explain.”

   “You haven’t even tried to explain it. Maybe that’s the problem.”

   “Once I’ve got a better understanding of the situation, I’ll bring you into the loop.”

   Clara folded her arms. “How long is that going to take?”

   “I can’t know for sure.”

   “How convenient.”

   “Despite my title, time isn’t always on my side, Clara. And, as much as I claim to do so, I don’t always have all the answers. In fact, normally, it’s quite the opposite. I don’t want you to fret over something that might be meaningless.”

   “Then you’re too late. Because I’ve spent the past few days in the Tardis absolutely terrified that you were gearing up to kicking me out. It’s like I’ve been walking around on eggshells, not daring to draw attention to myself in case it reminds you to get the job over with.”

   “I don’t want you to leave, Clara,” the Doctor said with a soft sigh, as if this conversation was taking up the precious time he claimed not to have control over.

   “Then I’ll warn you, Doctor, just this once…you’re pushing me dangerously close to the door by continuously giving me the cold shoulder. It isn’t supposed to be like this. After what we did…we were supposed to grow closer, not further apart.”

   “This doesn’t have anything to do with what happened between us.”

   “But you can see how I’d naturally come to that conclusion.”

   The Doctor looked down at the console, unable to maintain her unwavering eye contact. “I can admit that the timing has been incredibly unfortunate.”

   “To put it lightly.”

   “But those are circumstances that are completely out of my control! Trust me, all I want to do is run over there and kiss you.”

   “Then do it,” Clara instructed.

   “I…can’t. Not until I’ve figured everything out.”

   “But everything doesn’t involve me? You’re not…figuring out your feelings for me?”

   “That’s probably the only thing I’m certain of right now, and it’s exactly the reason why I’m working so hard to wrap my head around the situation.”

   She slowly nodded her head, trying not to smile, believing that he didn't yet deserve her acquiescence. It didn't feel right, seeing as how low she’d been recently, to have her heart wanting to soar at his words. It was at odds with every rational thought in her head. But, besides the physical confirmation they’d shared, this was the first time that the Doctor had admitted the existence of any sort of feelings . It appeared that her tactic had been worthwhile. Distracting him with something more daunting was precisely the circumstances he needed to let things slip without realising. Even now, the Time Lord probably didn't understand just what sort of admission he’d made.

   Her hand danced across the edge of the console, Clara getting ever closer to the Doctor. “This place, then. Where we’ve landed. Does that have something to do with what you’re struggling with?”

   “It might.” There was a flicker of a smirk on his face, like he truly wanted their usual dynamic to return. “The Tardis picked up on massive fluctuations of time energy in the local area, with no plausible explanation. That’s exactly the sort of strange event that I can’t resist poking my nose into.”

   “Is it on Earth?”

   “It’s usually the one facing trouble.”

   “What year?”

   “That’s the thing…I don’t know.”

   “I don’t want to insinuate that your source of personal pride revolves around understanding and bending time to your whim…but this isn’t looking good for your track record.”

   “It’s not my fault! The fluctuations are impacting the readings the Tardis is able to show. They’re all just a bunch of…garbled nonsense!”

   “Funnily enough, that’s what it usually looks like to me.”

   “She doesn’t appreciate your sarcasm right now. The Tardis struggled to land, the second time that’s happened in quick succession.”

   Clara’s eyes flashed in realisation. “So something did happen in France?”

   “That’s not relevant at the moment.”

   “You just brought it up! Was it another fluctuation? Are they spreading across the planet?”

   The Doctor pulled at his hair. “I told you that I don’t know.”

   “And yet you still landed…”

   “It seems so, yes.”

   “In the middle of a situation you have no knowledge about.”

   “That’s typically the way things go with me.”

   Clara grinned. “Don’t I know it.”

   “I should probably check outside on my own first…” the Doctor attempted to say, but Clara’s raised eyebrows were enough to put a pause to that line of thinking. “...yet I think you’re not going to let me get away with that.”

   She grabbed his arm, leading him towards the door. “I’m glad that you’re finally understanding our dynamic.”

   Clara didn't know what she’d been expecting once they were away from the safe confines of the Tardis. She was too preoccupied by the sense of a return to normality to truly care. Having the Doctor by her side, their arms intertwined and his smile being sent in her direction, it almost made the past few days nonexistent, just a bump along the road. One they’d forget about by the end of this latest adventure. Though, even if he was acting warmer towards her, there was still something in the Doctor’s gaze that she couldn’t accurately describe. Was it fear? Nerves? Maybe even anger in a certain light.

   If he was feeling apprehensive, the reason for that became abundantly clear as they exited. They were in an old building, though it didn't resemble anything that Clara had seen before. For one, there were no windows, the giant concrete construct having large gaps in the wall to allow sunlight to filter through. If there had been any sunlight. Night had descended on the area, making it difficult to see anything worthwhile. The Doctor’s sonic was on hand to provide some assistance in that area, illuminating the wall closest to them. There were vines decorating the surface, nature seemingly reclaiming the man made construction for itself.

   The Time Lord pulled a face that Clara was just about able to make out in the darkness. “It’s a multi storey car park. Or it was one. Apparently, a long time ago.”

   “I don’t think I’ve come across one of them before.”

   “It’s basically where people would park their cars, usually at extortionate prices.”

   “They make buildings just for cars?”

   “Humans have a lot of free time in the future.”

   The Doctor busied himself with scanning the twisted vines, leaving Clara to do her own investigations. She pursed her lips in thought, slowly spinning in a circle. There was a patch through the overgrowth in which moonlight was being bid entry, casting its cold glow on a small section of the car park, as the Doctor called it. Although her vision was still adjusting to the low levels of light, Clara was certain that she could see a figure standing a short distance away.

   “Doctor, I think someone is here with us,” she hissed, opting to walk further towards the stranger. Whoever it was, they were very good at standing still, unmoving as she approached. “Hello? There’s no reason to be afraid! We’re very friendly. I’m Clara. That’s the Doctor. We’re just trying to fix a problem, and you might be able to help with that.”

   The Doctor had grown to be too engrossed in his vegetative research to properly acknowledge what his companion was doing. So it was only when she was a few steps away from the sole local that he picked up on her venture. Clara was too busy trying to make sense of the silhouette before to see the way his eyes went wide or how he stumbled away from the wall, desperately trying to reach her. The person in front of her certainly looked human enough, but the shadow wasn’t perfectly the same. It was as if the mute figure had appendages on its back, much like a bird would have wings.

   “Clara!” the Doctor yelled. “What are you doing? Get away from that thing!”

   “Can you try to not be as rude as usual?” Clara asked, still edging forward amongst the darkness. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

   “That’s a Weeping Angel! Whatever you do, don’t let it touch you! Keep your eyes on it! I can’t go through this again!”

   But Clara’s curiosity got the better of her, turning her head to look back at him. “What’s a Weeping Angel?”

   She felt a cold hand grab her wrist, answering her question before the Doctor's scream could even escape his throat.

Chapter Text

 Based on the Doctor’s frantic reaction, Clara at least expected something to happen. What that would end up being, she didn't exactly know, but that was simply par for the course these days. Feeding off the energy that the Time Lord was exuding, she closed her eyes in fright, wondering if this was it . Was an abandoned car park, something she’d only just discovered existed a few moments before, the setting for their adventures coming to an end? It didn't seem so final, seeing as she was still standing there, feeling perfectly the same as usual. 

   Slowly, she glanced down at her wrist, her heart beating faster once she saw the stony claw that was holding it. It was an awkward angle for Clara to turn around, thanks to the unrelenting grip of the creature, but she was able to take a closer look at the being that had attacked her. To say it was the most frightening thing she’d ever laid eyes upon was an understatement. It was a statue. The Doctor had called it some sort of angel, explaining the wings. Though no construct of Heaven could have such a hellish face, its mouth contorted into a snarl, its dead eyes staring into her soul as if it was passing judgement on her life.

   And then, to add to the growing list of surprises that Clara was going through, it exploded. It was like an unseen hammer had been taken to it, shattering the statue where it stood. It disintegrated into thousands of tiny pieces, crumbling to the ground. The unexpected nature of its demise had Clara shouting once again, yelling as she covered her face in a vain attempt to protect herself from the volatile debris. Her approach through the dark, the subsequent attack, and then the baffling demise of the monster must have taken place over a matter of seconds. 

   The first thing she did once she was free was gently run a hand over the wrist that had been caught. It was slightly red from the vicious contact, though Clara was knowledgeable enough to understand that she had probably been lucky that that was the full extent of her injuries. Looking down at the floor, she scanned the newly formed pile of stone by her feet, tentatively kicking the small mound as if she thought something else would emerge at any second. It simply crumbled further, allowing her to finally release the breath she’d been holding and look to the Doctor for a modicum of comfort.

   The Doctor who was marching straight towards, which didn't come as a shock. He was probably just as relieved that she was still in one piece as she was. The unnerving part about his behaviour was the scowl painted across his face. She’d expected him to be happy, the normal reaction after seeing someone you cared about escaping a potential near death experience unscathed. It was true that he’d been acting strange as of late, but this was taking it to the extreme, appearing as if he was angry with her for surviving. Was this some sort of test? Had the Doctor planned it all? If so, he was a genuinely good actor, but Clara doubted anyone could portray such tangible fear as he’d shown beforehand.

   “What…what just happened?” she gasped, clutching her chest in the hope that it would steady her ragged breathing. “What did you call it? A Weeping Angel?”

   The Doctor didn't say anything. Instead, he walked right past her, crouching before the pile of stone and dust. He scanned it with the sonic for a few beats, his frown deepening at whatever the readings were saying. Once he was apparently satisfied that the remains were safe to approach, he picked up some of it, running it through his fingers and watching as it slowly cascaded back to the ground. This was all done without a word still, Clara tapping her foot impatiently as she waited for the explanation she felt she was owed.

   What she wanted more than anything else was a hug. An embrace that could tell her that everything was okay, and that everything was going to be okay. Given the strides they’d made in their relationship, it should have been perfectly normal for them to hug more often, regardless of the situation. It was basically what was expected following her close shave with the monster, which made it feel worse when the Doctor wasn’t willing to provide that much-needed comfort. Even when he slowly raised himself to his full height once again, he was making sure to keep his distance.

   “Who are you?” he asked in a deep tone of voice.

   “What? What are you talking about?”

   Clara was flummoxed. Of all the questions to ask after the strange event, that was certainly one she hadn’t been anticipating. Yet what took the majority of her attention was the look on his face. She was forced to take a step back at the sight. She’d felt a multitude of emotions when it came to the Doctor, but abject fear wasn’t one of them. Until now. His expression was dark, even thunderous, as he stared at her. It was like he was viewing her in the same light as the hideous monster, a thought that had her checking her own body, as if she might have been transformed without realising.

   “I don’t want to ask again. Who are you? What are you?”

   “Doctor, you’re scaring me.”

   Her voice broke, which she hated. Travelling with the Doctor, all she’d aimed to do is show how brave she could be. Remaining brave in the face of things she truly didn't understand was her most commendable trait in her own view. But now, when faced with the possibility of her friend turning against her…the possibility of her love turning against her…that staunch bravery dissipated as quickly as the monster. She hated how much power the Doctor held over her, ruling her emotions. If this was yet another test, then she was sorely failing it.

   “I just said that I wouldn’t ask again…” His nostrils flared. “Don’t make an enemy of me. Because, if you’ve taken something I cared about and twisted it, the universe won’t be large enough for you to hide from me.”

   She could feel tears threatening to fall, but she stubbornly refused to let them escape. “I don’t know what you’re wanting me to say!”

   “The truth! That’s all I’ve ever asked for!”

   “And that’s all I’ve ever given you!”

   The Doctor laughed, though there was no mirth in the sound. “ That …” He pointed to the remains of her failed attacker. “...was a Weeping Angel. One of the cruellest creatures in the cosmos. It feasts on time energy, the possibilities of a life unlived. The readings that the Tardis picked up…the state of decay in this area…that was all down to the Angel. It works by sending anyone it touches into the past, distorting their personal timeline and devouring what’s left behind. Trust me when I tell you just how devastatingly vicious and painful that can be to witness. And it should have done that to you!”

   “Then…isn’t it a good thing that something went wrong? Because that really doesn’t sound like fun.”

   “As well as being cruel, Weeping Angels are powerful. They can’t be destroyed. And yet…”

   “Well I didn't do anything!”

   “Are you sure about that? Are you really sure? Because I can’t begin to fathom what sort of power could make an Angel do that. It was like it…overloaded, short circuited. As if it couldn’t comprehend what you are and its only choice was to abort. And, let me tell you, Weeping Angels are the worst egomaniacs you’ll ever come across, so it must have taken a lot for it to choose that option.”

   “Doctor…I’m just a human. That’s all I can tell you.”

   “You’re lying! After everything we’ve been through! You’re still lying . Who are you? WHO ARE YOU?”

   This was a completely different side to the Doctor from what she’d ever seen in the past. He appeared desperate, his eyes constantly shifting. Clara wondered just how quickly his mind must have been churning, processing the inexplicable events. From what she could tell, the overriding emotion he was going through was fear, just as she was, and yet neither of them were in the position to console one another. She daren’t get close enough to soothe him, worried that he would lash out in some form or another.

   “I am Clara Oswin Oswald, Doctor, and I have always been that. I’m the woman who made you abandon your isolation. I’m the woman you’ve saved numerous times, and the woman who has also returned the favour. I’m the person who has stood by your side through everything, but you’re pushing it too far this time! I want to know what’s going on!”

   “Clara…Oswin…Oswald.”

   “Yes. Are you starting to see sense?”

   “Your middle name…is Oswin?”

   “Has it never cropped up in conversation before?”

   “No, I definitely would have remembered that.”

   “Why? It’s just a name. Not even a particularly interesting one.”

   “Oswin Oswald…which means that this has happened before. But how? How is that remotely possible?”

   “What’s happened before, Doctor? Everything you say just leaves me with more questions.”

   She didn't know whether to be more nervous around the Time Lord than when he’d be raising his voice. The Doctor was now pacing in a small circle, occasionally glancing in her direction as if he couldn’t quite believe that she existed. Where was that doubt coming from? Did he have a past with the Weeping Angels that he wasn’t willing to delve too much into? Why was he taking that out on her, when they should have been celebrating her miraculous escape?

   “I never got to see your face back then…”

   Clara took a couple of steps back, trying to figure out a way to help him out of his apparent psychotic episode. “Doctor…”

   “You were there. In the Dalek asylum…”

   “Dalek? What’s a Dalek? When did we visit an asylum?”

   “But you died! You were long dead before I got there, converted into one of those horrors. It was too late for you, but you still managed to help me and my friends get to safety. I only ever heard your voice. It never clicked until now. You’ve got the same voice.”

   “Whoever this person was, I can assure you that it wasn’t me.”

   “But more recently…in France! I bumped into a woman who looked exactly like you! At first, I put it down to another episode of spatial genetic multiplicity. But now…”

   “So something did happen whilst you were in France! Why didn't you say anything?”

   “...what if it was the same person? What if it was you ? Multiple versions of you, cropping up at different points on my timeline. The Clara in France, she saved me from getting run over, just as Oswin saved me all that time ago. Just think about how many times you’ve saved me…”

   “I’m…I’m not following.”

   Maybe he needed taking back to the Tardis. She’d heard the Doctor mention in the past that the ship had a medical bay. Perhaps she’d be able to figure out some sort of treatment that could cure his puzzled mind. It might have had something to do with their surroundings, as distorted as they were. If the Weeping Angel had messed with time, as he claimed, and he was a Time Lord, then it would stand to reason that he would be feeling some of the negative effects. That had to be the case, because the only way she could see them recovering from this was if there was a logical explanation to his out-of-character behaviour.

   “You shouldn’t exist, Clara!”

   “I’m standing right in front of you!”

   “What are you? A trick? A trap?”

   “I’m your friend, Doctor. That’s the only answer I have. I don’t know where this is coming from…but please stop.”

   He paused, his gaze unmoving from her face, his own expression softening. “You really don’t know, do you?”

   “I haven’t been following for about five minutes. And that feels like an eternity.”

   Adding to the series of strange interactions, the Doctor’s entire demeanour changed, wrapping her in the hug she’d desperately been craving. It was better late than never, Clara reasoned, melting into the embrace. For a few seconds, she allowed herself to enjoy the tender moment, especially since it had been born out of such an intense conversation. But she was the one to eventually pull away, unwilling to let him off the hook that easily. He’d put her through extreme emotional turmoil, to put it lightly, and she respected herself far too much to risk it happening again.

   “Are you going to tell me what this is about?” she asked quietly.

   The Doctor was now looking guilty, yet another sensation he’d been faced to endure in a short space of time. Clara wanted to feel sorry for him, but it was difficult when he was technically at fault. Something had evidently been eating away at him for days, with the Doctor refusing to speak openly about it. Ultimately, that had resulted in it all exploding out at once, unleashing a whirlwind of desperate anguish in her direction that she couldn’t possibly contend with.

   “That’s difficult…when I don’t have the explanation myself.”

   “You’ve…met multiple versions of me?”

   “I think so.”

   “How is that possible?”

   “If I knew that, I wouldn’t have had to interrogate you.”

   “Thanks for that, by the way.”

   “There’s not enough time left in the universe for me to apologise properly.”

   “Is that why you chose to travel with me? Because you lost someone who reminded you of me?”

   “No. No .” He clutched her hands tightly as if that would help her see the truth in his words. “That had nothing to do with it. Like I said, I didn't even know that I’d interacted with you in the past.”

   “You didn't interact with me in the past. That’s what I’m trying to tell you! The first time we met was with the Snowmen and Great Intelligence. That’s not something I’m going to misremember.”

   “That’s as far as you know. What if something else is in play that we don’t know about?”

   “Then we need to find out what that is.”

   “Precisely.”

   “Have you been struggling with this problem ever since France?”

   “Well…that was the first time I saw another you, yes, so the doubts started trickling through.”

   “So you chose to grow distant and barely talk to me? You thought that was the better option, rather than actually discussing it with me?”

   “It was barely a theory at that point! I didn't want to worry you over nothing. Then you managed to do that to the Angel, and I couldn't hold it in any longer. There was my proof that you're different to what I...to what we...thought.”

   “But you did make me worry! For days, I’ve thought I’d done something wrong, that you were angry at me, that you were planning on taking me home.”

   “You got one of those things right.”

   That put Clara on the backfoot. “Pardon?”

   “I’m taking you home. Because, if there’s anywhere we’re going to get answers about your origins, then it’s where you supposedly grew up. I think it’s time that we paid the Paternoster Gang a well overdue visit.”

Chapter Text

“Well, this is a surprise.”

   It was easy to forget where Clara’s cosmic adventures had started, since she’d experienced so many wonders since. If you’d told her not too long ago that she’d be popping round to the house of a walking, talking lizard without even batting an eyelid, then she likely would have called one of the local asylums to take you away. But Vastra was standing in the hallway as if her presence was perfectly natural, which Clara supposed it was, given that this was her house. The fact that Strax had greeted them upon the Doctor’s hasty knocks was just another example of how accustomed Clara had grown to this life, smiling at the daft Sontaran instead of instinctively running away. 

   Walking into Paternoster House brought with it a swirling torrent of memories for her. Whilst meeting the Doctor in that dark alleyway by the pub had been the catalyst for her new life, the building Clara was now in was where she’d cemented her desire to pursue it. This was where she’d passed the one-word test, proving to Vastra that she was worthy enough of contacting the isolated Time Lord. If it wasn’t for the small group of people they were calling on now for assistance, she never would have been able to escape the mundane reality of London. Which was why she’d been so scared when the Doctor had seemingly been close to bringing it all to an end, unsure as to who she was before he’d eventually seen reason.

   “How come?” the Doctor countered. “I’m always making social calls. It’s what I do! It’s part of the fabric of my very being!”

   Vastra may not have had conventional eyebrows, but she was still skilled in raising them. “I’m stunned that you can utter such fabrications with a straight face.”

   The Doctor smirked. “I can assure you that I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

   “The only reason why you would have put your exploring on hold to come visit us is because you need our assistance. There’s no point beating around the proverbial bush. What do you need, Doctor? Are you in danger?”

   It might have been alarming to hear just how natural it was for a danger to be creeping up on the man she deeply cared for, if she hadn’t seen it in action multiple times firsthand. Clara should have seen it as a warning sign, a clear indication that she should run for the hills as soon and as quickly as possible. Yet she was sticking by his side, just as Vastra was apparently doing. Why would she be scared? It was the very nature of her fierce feelings for the Doctor that any threat wanting to harm him should have been a lot more frightened about what she’d be willing to do to protect him.

   “Where’s Strax wandered off to?”

   “I’m sure he’ll be brewing a pot of tea for our unexpected guests, as he’d been trained to do. Why? Why do you need him in particular? Not that I’m insulted that I’m falling down the pecking order…but…I suppose I am, actually.”

   “He’s got Sontaran medical equipment, right?”

   “He is a former nurse, Doctor. You know this. Will you stop asking questions with an obvious answer and cut to the chase?”

   Clara laughed, a reaction that didn't seem to please the Time Lord, judging by his wounded frown. It was simply nice to hear someone else knock the Doctor down a peg or too, when that was usually solely left to Clara. It was comforting to know that she wasn’t the only one with that job, keeping his ego in check, constantly reminding him that he wasn’t infallible. If that job had rested on her shoulders alone, then the weight and pressure might have been too much for her. 

   “It’s Clara,” the Doctor explained, his demeanour suddenly turning much graver. “I need to make sure of a few things. His technology is the easiest and quickest way of putting my doubts to bed.”

   Vastra turned her attention to the cause of the Doctor’s concern. “Are you alright? You’re looking rather pale now I think about it, though humans tend to look that way from my perspective. And please don’t tell Jenny that I said that. I’d be listening to lectures for the next week at least.”

   “I’m…I’m fine,” Clara answered, disgruntled by the hesitation in her voice. “There’s just been some strange coincidences lately, according to the Doctor, and we won’t be able to enjoy our time together until we know what’s going on.”

   It was a decent answer. One she’d come up with practically on the spot, put under pressure by Vastra’s surprisingly imposing gaze. The truth of the matter was that Clara was slightly hurt by the Doctor’s intentions. He’d claimed to believe her when she’d assured him that she was exactly who she’d always said she was, not having any clue about the other people who supposedly looked or sounded like her. That seemingly wasn’t enough in his opinion, requiring the cold confirmation that only technology could provide. Clara had wanted to believe that there was a certain level of trust between them. Was that naive? To think that the ancient Time Lord could ever abate his curiosity by simply taking her word for it?

   “She was attacked by a Weeping Angel,” the Doctor told Vastra. “And survived to tell the tale.”

   “Well, that’s not uncommon. Most people do survive Angel attacks. And you happen to have a time machine at your disposal, which probably accounts for how Miss Clara is standing in front of me right now.”

   “No, you don’t understand. The Angel grabbed her and then…disintegrated. Like it couldn’t contend with what she actually was.”

   Clara didn't like the anxious look that now decorated Vastra’s face. “Then I suppose we shouldn’t be wasting any more time before looking into this matter.”

   She was led deeper into the house. It was more like she was being escorted, something which Clara didn't appreciate in the slightest. She was feeling perfectly fine. So why were they looking at her as if she were fragile, on the verge of breaking if the wrong word was said. The proverbial eggshells they were walking on couldn’t have been more obvious. Clara wanted to shout at them, as much as she understood that they were acting out of concern for her wellbeing. They were treating her as if she were a subject to be studied, not their friend, their…well, that label hadn’t been introduced yet.

   Summoned by the gentle ring of a bell, Strax was waiting for them in what seemed to be the kitchen. Maybe Clara had been expecting something grander, something more scientifically advanced. At times, she forgot that she was walking upon the earth she’d grown up on, not the futuristic landscapes that were now her home. It should have been alarming, just how easy it had been for her to become detached from the place that had formed her. But she’d always known that she was destined for something else, a higher purpose, a tiny voice in the back of her head telling her that it would all be revealed when the time was right.

   “Sit down, boy,” the Sontaran commanded gruffly.

   “Strax, for goodness sake,” Jenny complained, appearing next to them with a tea of drinks. 

   “What?”

   “Should I complain about your continued lack of understanding of the human genders, or your contained lack of a good bedside manner?”

   “Perhaps you can choose neither, and leave me to work in peace.”

   “I’m going to smack him,” she growled to her wife.

   “Which would be an act of aggression that would be your last. A Sontaran wouldn’t allow the mark on his honour to last very long. Let that be a warning to you.”

   “You’re all bark and no bite.”

   “Can we concentrate?” the Doctor hissed.

   Clara looked up at him, quickly picking up on how nervous he was. The Time Lord was wringing his hands in agitated fashion, basically bouncing on the balls of his feet whilst he waited for the tests to be conducted. Despite the fact that she was technically the patient, regardless of how she didn't want to be in that position, she knew that she had to be there to comfort him. A hand was placed tenderly on his cheek, forcing the Doctor to look at her large, brown eyes that she knew he couldn’t resist. She didn't care about the bemused looks being shared by their small, unorthodox audience. 

   “It’s going to be alright,” Clara assured him, her voice no more than a whisper. “I promise. I’d know if there was something wrong. Yes, weird things have happened that are difficult to make sense of, but that’s basically the description of our lives, isn’t it? We’ll figure this out. Together.”

   “I should be the one soothing you,” he said with a sad smile. “How pitiful am I, hey? The fabled Time Lord of old, the Destroyer of Worlds, the Oncoming Storm…brought to a nervous wreck because you might be in trouble.”

   “I find it quite endearing, to be honest.”

   “You’re not going to expect this kind of behaviour more often, are you?”

   “I think I am. Sorry.”

   “You’re not apologetic in the slightest.”

   “Nah. It should be obvious that I much prefer you , this version of you , rather than any storms or destroyers. I chose to travel with the massive dork who doesn’t know what to do with his arms when I kiss him.”

   “Clara! We have company!”

   “And?”

   “You’re incorrigible.”

   “I may not have had a fancy education like what you went through on Gallifrey, but I’m pretty sure that means I refuse to change. And that’s true. Which means that, if there is anything unusual going on, that isn’t going to change what I want. To be with you, Doctor.”

   “Have you quite finished?” Strax interrupted grumpily. “It’s not very often that I get to bring out my toys, and I can become quite irritable when made to needlessly wait.”

   “Are you trying to say that you’re not irritable all the time?” Jenny countered.

   Strax turned to Vastra. “Ma’am, I would politely ask for you to keep your woman in check so that she’ll stop hurting my feelings.”

   “First of all, I am nobody’s woman!”

   Vastra smirked. “I think you’ll find that you are mine , my dear. Even if Strax’s phrasing could be a touch more eloquent.”

   “Are you flirting with me in front of the guests, ma’am?”

   “If the Doctor is perfectly willing to do the very same thing in my household, then I should be free to do it also.”

   Clara hopped onto the table, if just to stop the conversation from getting any weirder. They were dangerously close to descending into a competition of whose relationship could be the most bombastic, the sort of contest that wouldn’t have any winners. Not to mention the fact that she and the Doctor didn't even have a relationship . It was still in that excruciating phase of not-knowing-ness, the void between being friends and being so much more. With how easily embarrassed he was, it was a miracle that the Doctor hadn’t run away yet, which probably highlighted just how concerned he was about her.

   She grew just as concerned when she took a closer look at the array of tools Strax was evidently planning on using on her. Most of the objects were suspiciously sharp and pointy, and Clara had no ambitions of finding out what their uses were. Strax may have treated her gently in the past, when she was recovering from her tussle with the Ice governess, but he constantly gave off the impression that he was wanting to do a lot more than he was typically allowed. With the assortment of contraptions on display, Clara’s greatest fear was that he was going to get carried away with the job.

   “This shouldn’t hurt at all,” Strax tried to reassure her. “Unless you move. Then things could become a little bit messy.”

   Jenny was on hand to calm Clara down, who was now looking at them all with wide eyes. “He’s joking! Don’t worry, he tends to do that because he wants to fit in.”

   “But I wasn’t jo-”

   “ And he’s going to get the job over with sharpish, so that we can actually enjoy having you round for a change.”

   Strax grumbled under his breath, but obligingly did as he was told. Thankfully for Clara, the only tool he picked up was small and mainly cuboid, meaning the damage it could do was minimal. A green light flashed in her eyes, momentarily dazzling her senses, before he moved it up and down her body. It was slightly unnerving to see the inner workings of her body on display. It shouldn’t have been embarrassing, but the Doctor getting to see it made her cheeks go strangely red. She supposed that you couldn’t get any more intimate than seeing someone’s rib cage, which was a sentence she never thought she’d be thinking of.

   “She’s in peak physical condition,” the Sontaran claimed once he was finished, cutting to the chase. “In fact, she’d make a fine soldier. If she bulked up a bit, but that can always be sorted out with the proper diet. I have some pamphlets that might be of an interest to you.”

   “There’s…nothing out of the ordinary?” the Doctor asked, as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

   “Every bodily function is operating as it should be. Heart pumping, neurons firing, stomach churning. If anything, the strangest part out of anything was her brain, which was predominantly occupied by thoughts about you, sir. Though you seemed to often be in an alarming state of undress. Be warned that that is when your enemies can strike most effectively.”

   “Thank you, Strax!” Clara blurted out, mortified at his words. “I don’t think we need to hear anything else.”

   “And she’s human? Completely, perfectly human?”

   It was strange to see that the Doctor wasn’t perturbed by the admission of her salacious thoughts. If Clara ever dared flirt with him, he became as stable as a puddle most of the time. It appeared that he was still so preoccupied by her wellbeing that he wasn’t able to concentrate on anything else. Clara wanted to find it annoying for some reason, like she yearned for him to know that she was thinking about him in that way. Then again, his unyielding desire for her continued safety was insanely attractive.

   “My readings are conclusive, sir. One hundred percent human.”

   “Could your devices be faulty?”

   “How dare you question the accuracy of my work?!” Strax’s nostrils flared, only calming down when the doorbell rang, interrupting his tirade. “You are fortunate that I must attend to my other household duties. But know this for certain, I will get my revenge for your lack of faith in my skills.”

   “He’s always seeking revenge against someone these days,” Jenny commented once he’d waddled away. “It’s basically a different person every week. I wouldn’t take it too personally.”

   “Are you relieved with the results, Doctor?” Vastra wondered, seemingly already knowing the answer.

   “I mean, of course!” he replied, rubbing his chin in thought. “But it doesn’t make sense. I know what I saw. I know who I saw.”

   “I still have one pressing quandary that you might be able to enlighten me on.”

   “I’m all ears, even if I get the sense that I’m not going to like this.”

   “Your Tardis is full of equipment from across the galaxy. The finest technology through time is at your disposal. Why, then, did you go to the effort of visiting us for something that could have been done in the quiet and privacy of your own medical bay?”

   “Well…it’s a bit embarrassing.”

   Clara perked up. “Now I definitely want to hear what the reason was.”

   “I was agitated, okay? Technology is brilliant, and gives us definitive proof that we shouldn’t be able to question. But…Clara means a lot to me. I suppose I wanted a second opinion from people I sincerely trust.”

   “I’m flattered by your faith in us,” Vastra said. “But what are we giving our opinion on?”

   “Clara. You haven’t noticed anything strange about her, have you?”

   “I’m sitting right here!” she complained, folding her arms in annoyance.

   “It’s just…I’m well aware that I wear large blinkers when it comes to certain people, meaning I miss things that I want to ignore. I don’t want to see anything that could go wrong. So I thought you’d be able to give me a more accurate analysis.”

   “I understand your concern, Doctor,” Vastra reassured him. “From what we can tell, Clara is the brilliant, young woman who managed to save you from yourself. That should be enough of a marvel to add any further complexities to the mix.”

   “Thank you,” the Time Lord returned with a sigh.

   “And it’s clear to see why you’ve been so worried. You’ve done precisely what I foretold you’d do.”

   “I don’t need to listen to that monologue again.”

   “I’m curious though,” Clara said. “What did you tell him? Was it about me?”

   “Is it so hard to see? He has completely and utterly fallen…”

   “Ma’am.”

   Strax had returned. Clara didn't know why his voice sounded so strained until she looked at him, discovering that he wasn’t alone. She jumped up in fright, instantly terrified of the figures surrounding the Sontaran. Their faces were empty, completely white, wearing black suits and top hats that only accentuated their ungodly paleness. Vastra and Jenny were already in a defensive mode, their arms raised, poised for a fight. The Doctor had expertly manoeuvred himself so that he was standing in front of Clara, shielding her from any potential attack.

   “It seems that we have some more unexpected visitors,” Vastra hissed. “Should we be polite and introduce them to the lunch menu?”

   “That won’t be necessary,” a calm voice said, accompanied by its owner, who walked into view. Just like a ghost might have. “You’ll find that my men are only hungry for one thing: the justice I’m owed.”

   Doctor Simeon was standing before them, though he was only truly looking at one member of their group. And the murderous, satisfied gleam in his eyes didn't fill Clara with much hope about the Doctor’s chances.

Chapter Text

Clara had focused on one thing during her travels with the Doctor, and that revolved around constantly proving her bravery. Yet any thought of doing that now washed away in the face of the man who had come alarmingly close to killing her in the past. She shielded herself with the Doctor’s body, not wanting Doctor Simeon to see her, even if the pale man must have already spotted her. Clara hoped that she’d moved subtly, wondering whether she could get away with being scared without the Doctor noticing. As scared as she was about what Simeon was there to do, it paled in comparison to her concerns of the Time Lord thinking less of her.

   “How…how is he standing there?” she asked, her voice shaking, betraying her efforts to remain composed. “He died! You told me he died!”

   But she’d been unconscious back then. The long, terrifying fall, combined with the unexpected crash into the Tardis’ swimming pool, had put her out of commission just when the fight had reached its zenith. The Doctor had claimed that the ice governess had been destroyed because of her ungracious plummet. He’d assured her that the Great Intelligence had been stopped before they could carry on with their plan. Had the Doctor been lying? Had he been playing up his success in an attempt to impress her so early on in the relationship? He’d mentioned that there would always be the chance of them turning up in his life again; had he been waiting for this moment since they’d started travelling together?

   “The Great Intelligence has always been more of a force than anything physical,” the Doctor explained. “The perfect way for it to survive, no matter how often it’s defeated. It seems that it can’t take the hint!”

   “He’s looking pretty physical to me from where I’m standing.”

   “Walking in another man’s body,” Vastra hissed. “The real Doctor Simeon was taken to a psychiatric ward after he was abandoned, left with nothing but the mind of a child. He was getting the care he needed. And yet you still use his voyage.”

   “He still has his uses,” Simeon said, his tone unwavering and firm. “Even after his premature death. My men saw to that. It would appear that Victorian security measures are somewhat lacking. But that should remove any scruples you may have about my appearance. Why waste a perfectly good body when it’s rotting in the ground?”

   “You said you want revenge,” the Doctor murmured, getting them back on track, his face set in a disgusted grimace. “Go on, then. Here’s your chance to outline what I expect is going to be an extremely convoluted plan.”

   “Isn’t it obvious?” Clara responded. “He wants me. That’s why he’s here, waiting for us to come back. He failed with the first governess. It’d stand to reason that he’d try his luck with the one who came after.”

   Suddenly, an echo of that bravery returned, powering her legs to push her forward. No matter how scared she was of the faceless men, who bared their teeth at her approach. No matter how hard the Doctor tried to keep her behind him. No matter how much she craved his protection. Clara knew that this was something she had to do, one final act to show the Time Lord that he’d chosen well to abandon his solitude for her, and her alone. Simeon’s face remained unchanging despite her moving closer, making her wonder whether he’d lost the ability to alter his expression, the body frozen like the dead.

   “If that’s what you want,” Clara continued, “then so be it. You can have me. As long as you leave the Doctor and my friends alone. Only under those terms will I even consider coming with you.”

   It would hurt. Clara knew that. She understood what she was signing up for. She would be transformed into an icy version of herself, turned into a monster designed to do the Great Intelligence’s bidding. She would haunt the nightmares of children and adults alike. That still wouldn’t hurt as much as knowing that her time with the Doctor would come to an end. But she could gain some comfort in knowing that her sacrifice would keep him alive. She just hoped that her death wouldn’t see him reunite with his cloud in the stars. She just hoped that he would find someone else to show the universe to.

   “You pitiful girl,” Simeon snapped. “Why would I be concerned with you when I have the Time Lord at my mercy? Our previous plans failed. That has only increased my hunger for success. It is just that the plan has changed from what it once was.”

   “...oh.”

   It was safe to say that Clara was feeling foolish. She knew that all eyes were on her after she’d spectacularly jumped the gun. It was the sort of attention that would have given her a perfectly good reason to curl up into a ball out of embarrassment. Instead, she refused to back down, squaring her shoulders and pulling herself to her full height, even if that didn't come close to Simeon’s imposing stature. The job remained the same for her, even if she wasn’t in direct danger. She had to protect the Doctor through any means necessary.

   “Well,” she said defiantly. “You can’t have him.”

   “Clara.” The Doctor was tugging on the sleeve of her dress, evidently trying to pull her back and save her from herself.

   “No, Doctor. I won’t let anything happen to you. And the sooner this imposter realises that, the sooner he can run away with his coattails trapped between his legs. If he doesn’t cooperate, I’m pretty sure that Strax can blow a hole through each and every one of his creepy soldiers before they can take another step forward.”

   “I would do it with glee,” the Sontaran gasped, even if he was still being closely held by the faceless men, with no discernible way of getting free or getting a weapon to attack them with. 

   “You have trained your companion well, Doctor,” Simeon remarked, not giving away whether he was happy or annoyed about that development. “She is remarkably different from when we were last together. It begs the question of whether so much change is beneficial in such a short space of time. Though you’ll be learning that for yourself soon enough.”

   “Meaning?” the Doctor asked sharply, finally moving and confronting Simeon physically. Neither he nor the faceless men shifted in response.

   Clara watched the way he was acting, the way his jaw was clenched and a noticeable vein throbbed on his neck. It was understandable for the Time Lord to be on edge given the circumstances. Even with the Doctor, it wasn’t an everyday occurrence to have an all powerful entity break into your home. But Clara knew that the fury of his reaction cut deeper than that. It was like Simeon’s words had been perfectly designed to rile him up, commenting on how much she had been transformed through the Doctor’s influence. He didn't appear to want to think about that, as if he hated himself for making it easy for her to put her body on the line.

   “The Doctor has a secret that he will take to the grave, and it is discovered.”

   If Simeon’s comments about Clara had angered the Doctor, then his latest remark had the effect of freezing him on the spot. The Doctor’s body tensed, his limbs going rigid. In alarm, Clara attempted to reach out to him but even his hand was uncooperative despite her best efforts. She knew that he had a million secrets he kept to himself but the weight in which they were said, along with the subsequent response from the Time Lord, had her more worried than ever that Simeon held all the aces.

   “You’re familiar with Trenzalore, I’m sure,” the Great Intelligence said.

   “Yes,” the Doctor croaked, seemingly unable to get any more syllables out of his mouth.

   “What is it?” Clara asked impatiently. “Doctor? Why are you so scared?”

   “He is frightened because he now knows that he is facing his final destiny,” Simeon told her. “How many species have burned at your feet, Doctor, in their attempts to stop you? The most powerful armies in the cosmos, and they will never know the glory that awaits me.”

   The Doctor’s nostrils flared. “What do you want?”

   “We have been waiting since that day you temporarily stopped us. We have been watching from the sidelines, through the ages. And we have learnt one valuable thing.”

   “Which is?”

   “Your friends are your vulnerability.”

   Strax let out a strained gasp. Clara watched in horror as one of Simeon’s impassive henchmen reached towards and into the Sontaran’s chest, making him yell out in discomfort. From the surrounding shadows, more of the faceless men appeared, binding Vastra and Jenny by their arms. Even though she was close to the Doctor, one of them was able to grasp at Clara’s hand, slowly dragging her towards it despite her desperate attempts to get loose.

   “No!” the Doctor shouted. “What are you doing? Leave them alone!”

   “Don’t worry, sir,” Strax replied. “I think…I have them on the ropes.”

   “There is only way you can stop this,” Simeon told him, barely reacting to the chaos and spectacle. “The space-time coordinates have already been programmed into your Tardis.”

   “Doctor, whatever he wants, don’t do it!” Clara frantically instructed him. 

   He looked helplessly towards her. “I can’t risk losing you.”

   “Then you will come to Trenzalore,” Simeon pressed on. “Where we are already waiting for you. If you don’t…your friends will die.”

   “Fine! Let them go and you have my word! I swear! Just don’t hurt them!”

   For the first time, Simeon showed a flash of emotion, a brief smirk that danced on his lips before he faded away, as if the shadows had reclaimed him. Along with their master, the terrifying soldiers disappeared, finally relinquishing their holds on the Doctor’s friends. Clara panted heavily from the experience, massaging her wrist where the worst of the force had been concentrated. Whatever pain she was feeling, it didn't seem to compare to what the Doctor was going through as she looked at him.

   Her voice was quiet as she spoke. “What have you done, Doctor? What have you agreed to?”

**********

   “You can’t honestly be considering this,” Vastra said in disbelief.

   The group raced into the Tardis, following the Doctor in the vain hope of preventing him from doing anything foolish. Clara had hoped that, after the attack, she would have at least been given a few moments to compose herself, recovering from being used as a weapon against the Doctor. Instead, he was wasting no time, seemingly hell bent on leaving London as fast as was physically possible. It was a bit of a surprise to see that the ship’s engines weren’t put into use as soon as they were all within its confines, with how frantic the Doctor had been acting up to that point.

   He slammed his fist against the console. “What choice do I have? What would you have me do, Vastra? Would you rather me let you die ? Because you know that’s not an option.”

   “No, I wouldn’t think so, seeing as I’ve seen what you get like when you lose people close to you. But that begs the question as to why you are behaving so recklessly when the enemy has apparently retreated.”

   “Yeah, they’ve gone,” Clara agreed. “They willingly left us alone. Couldn’t we just… not do what they asked? We could run away. That’s your speciality, isn’t it?”

   “It’s not going to be that simple,” he explained. “There’s nowhere to hide. You just saw what they can do. They were apparently able to travel across time and space as easily as walking through a park. If I don’t turn up, they’ll find us again. They’ll find you again. Constantly running for the rest of our lives, never able to properly relax, out of fear of them dishing out their form of justice and retribution. I won’t subject you to that, Clara. Not when there’s a chance that I can put an end to it now.”

   “But how are you going to do that? What are they asking you to do? You haven’t told me any of the specifics! How can you expect me to understand what’s going on when you still refuse to divulge the truth?”

   “Trenzalore,” Vastra said quietly. “I’ve heard that word in relation to you before, Doctor. What does it mean? It’s presumably a place, but what sort of location could terrify you?”

   “It’s somewhere I’m not supposed to go,” the Doctor replied. “It’s somewhere no one should ever be asked to go. It defies the laws of time to even think about it. It’s going to take a lot of effort to coax the Tardis into going there. Once she cottons on to the origins of the planet, she’ll resist with as much of her might as she can muster.”

   “Which is surely a sign that we shouldn’t be considering this,” Jenny pointed out.

   “And that’s why we aren’t considering it.” The Doctor clicked his fingers and the doors reopened. “Vastra, I know you’ll watch over Clara for me.”

   It didn't feel real, hearing the Doctor say those words. In fact, initially, Clara thought she must have misheard, because that was the only logical explanation. Surely he wouldn’t be so idiotic to believe that he could successfully push her away like this. It wasn’t going to happen. Not when he was facing potential mortal peril. He couldn’t even look her in the eye, encapsulating the shame he was going through at suggesting it. Perhaps he was even scared of the way she was going to react, for good reason.

   Clara stepped closer to him. “What? Why would they need to look after me? I’m staying with you.”

   “You’re not.”

   “I am. That’s the commitment I made to you. I’m not going to run away just because things are getting scary.”

   “They’ll kill you.”

   “You said it yourself. They can travel wherever they want to. They could kill me easily no matter where I am. Surely it’s therefore safer to be next to someone who can protect me.”

   “And who says I can protect you, Clara?” he asked quietly, like he didn't want to know the answer, like he didn't want her to see him in this broken state. 

   “Then that’s even more of a reason for me to come with you. Maybe it’s my turn to protect you .”

   “That’s not your job. That’s never been your job.”

   “It’s been my duty since we first met, you daft, old idiot. A duty of care. A promise I hold dear.”

   “Outside those doors, you have the whole world to explore. The world you were supposed to live in. You can have a normal life! Don’t throw that away.”

   “Doctor, I wasn’t supposed to live there as soon as you bumped into me. I refuse to allow you to make this decision for me. I made my choice long ago. It’s you. It has always been you. Why should I settle for normal when there are plenty of wonders left for us to see? The Great Intelligence? They’re just a bump in the road.”

   “If it’s worth anything, I agree with Clara,” Vastra added strongly. “You may ask it of me, but I won’t let her leave this ship. Because we’re not going either.”

   “This isn’t your fight,” the Doctor growled.

   “ You are our fight. Those are the terms of our partnership. If we were in danger, you would move heaven and earth to help us. It has to work the other way round too.”

   “What if Jenny gets hurt? Or worse?”

   “Frankly, sir, I can speak for myself,” the woman in question countered deftly. “And I think I owe it to those pale-faced monsters to slash at least a few of them in half.”

   “Count me in,” Strax agreed. “I have replenished my weapon stores without you even noticing, which is the sort of sneakiness you’ll require to undermine this threat. You would be foolish to go into battle alone, sir, if you may allow me to say so. Any good soldier needs a comrade.”

   “I don’t want you to be soldiers,” the Doctor sighed.

   Clara softly grabbed his hand. “Don’t think of us like that then. We’re just your support. Something you can’t afford to lose.”

   “I could throw you out. The Tardis has protocols for that sort of thing. Mechanisms to remove unwanted people. I could activate them.”

   “Go on then,” she said in challenge. “But if that was an actual option you were willing to take, you would have done so already, I reckon.”

   “Clara Oswald…are you sure that you’re just a human? You’re far too brilliant for that.”

   “There’s nothing just about it, mister. Now, stop moping, kick the Tardis into gear, and let us deal with Doctor Simeon one last time.”

   “You’re the boss.”

   “Don’t you forget it. And you can do one more thing for me…”

   “I’m almost afraid to ask…”

   “What’s the secret that Simeon was talking about?” She could immediately tell the Doctor was uncomfortable. “Come on. There’s no point in skirting the issue. He said that it has already been discovered, so where’s the harm in telling us? Or at least me.”

   “No, you don’t understand Clara. The Doctor has a secret he will take to his grave, and it is discovered. That’s what he said. But he didn't mean that any secret had been unearthed. He meant…my grave. That’s where we’re going. My final resting place. Do you still have the stomach to go now?”

Chapter Text

If Clara did have the stomach for the trip, then it had certainly flipped during the last leg of the journey. By now, she was more than used to the Tardis’ unconventional nature when it came to landing. By now, she was also accustomed to its stubborn behaviour. Putting that together turned out to be a potent mix. The only way the ship was going to consider arriving on Trenzalore was through taking the choice away from her. The anti-gravity mechanism had been switched off and they’d hurtled towards the planet’s surface, with even Strax yelling out in dismay (although that might have been his twisted sense of enjoyment).

   Clara was well aware of the fact that she must have looked a mess once they recovered from the chaos, but she put that to one side. For now, her main focus was the Doctor, making sure that he was okay. After revealing that they were visiting the site of his actual grave, he hadn’t spoken about it since, refusing to elaborate. He was the first out the door, meaning that Clara was a close second, remaining by his side so tightly that they may as well have been attached at the hip. 

   The sky was ashy and grey. If this was the Doctor’s final resting place, then it was a frankly miserable location. Then again, Clara had to assume that all graveyards were like that. She spied the tombstones occupying the scorched land, so densely packed that it was almost impossible to see a spare patch of ground. A shiver ran down her spine as she wondered what had happened there. If so many people had fallen, had all their bodies been accounted for? Or would their walk include traversing over the barely hidden corpses of those unfortunate enough not to be recovered?

   “I thought you said that it was your grave we were coming to,” Clara remarked. “Why are there so many?”

   She knew that the Doctor had lived many lives. Though he didn't talk about it very often, she understood that he’d worn different faces in his past. Was that why the tombstones were so numerous? Did each face get its own one? Did a piece of him die whenever he changed? It would explain why he was so on edge. It would have taken her years, perhaps decades, to count all the burial sites and so Clara stared at her friend, trying to figure out just how many people he’d been.

   “It’s a battlefield,” he explained. “My final battle.”

   “These people died with honour then,” Strax proclaimed, banging his chest with his free hand.

   “I don’t think they’re too happy about that,” Jenny commented.

   The Doctor pressed on, seemingly refusing to spend more time there than was necessary. Clara attempted to hold his hand, to provide some semblance of comfort, but his strides were too long and purposeful, leaving her behind. She felt the hand of Vastra rest on her shoulder, a show of silent understanding for the efforts she was going to in order to help the Time Lord. At least someone was grateful.

   The reason for his cold behaviour was explained just a few steps ahead, where they reached the top of a small hill. The raised perspective allowed them to have a better look over the ruined landscape, though their attention was drawn to the largest spectacle before them. It was the Tardis. It was enormous though, perhaps the biggest construct that Clara had ever seen. If that was the Doctor’s tombstone, and this was an army’s graveyard, then it begged the question of just how highly ranked he’d been to deserve such an everlasting testament to his life.

   “When a Tardis is dying…sometimes, the dimension dams start breaking down. We used to call it a ‘size leak’. All the ‘bigger on the inside’ starts pouring out. It…it grows.”

   Clara’s eyes brimmed with tears. “You mean…”

   “That isn’t a construct or a monument. It is the Tardis. The same one we just travelled in, just at a very different stage in its life. A life that is coming to an end before our very eyes.”

   Her heart thundered in pain. She thought back to the first moment she’d stepped foot inside the improbable ship, picturing the way it had glowed and warmly greeted her. She’d looked at it with such wide eyes back then. Eyes that were now wet as she looked at it once more. Of all the things she’d believed would crumble to the test of time, the Tardis had never been one of them. She’d imagined it spinning through space long after she was gone, the final survivor at the end of the universe. How cruel could the cosmos be to allow such a beautiful creation to die?

   The worst thing was that, in relative terms, Clara hadn’t known the Tardis for very long. But the Doctor…he’d been travelling with his one constant companion for the entirety of his life. What must he have been going through, looking upon the remains of his devoted ship? This time, when Clara reached out, he allowed their fingers to briefly intertwine, which signified just how much he was struggling. She took some comfort in the knowledge that he was willing to accept some of her silent reassurances. It was easy to forget that they were also joined by the others, the two of them anchoring one another so intrinsically.

   “It makes sense,” he said quietly. “Where else would they bury me? Even in death, she’s there by my side.”

   The moment didn't last long. Their approach continued, with the Doctor’s pace somehow increasing. At times, only Strax was able to maintain a similar speed in his attempts to survey the area for any enemies. Clara was most surprised at Vastra’s ability to keep up, navigating the tricky surface whilst wearing her customary long dress. It was a miracle that she wasn’t caught in the weeds and thorns of the overgrowth, looking for all the world as if she’d done this sort of thing before.

   It was obvious where they were destined to go, but it didn't make the climb any easier. Sadly, the Tardis wasn’t designed with steps on its now oversized exterior, meaning their group had to make use of the steep terrain to get close. Even then, it was only because of Strax’s tactical gear that they were able to reach the highest spots. Jenny appeared to be surprisingly well versed in using grappling hooks. The Doctor had them aiming for what had once been the lock of the Tardis, seeing as that felt like the obvious place for the opening to be. A point that was solidified when they found Doctor Simeon waiting for them there. 

   For Clara, it was still strange to see the man walking around, even if he was fairly motionless at their arrival. He didn't seem surprised, evidently expecting the Doctor to follow his instructions to the letter. As soon as they were all on a level footing, his henchmen appeared once more out of thin air, cutting off the way they’d come. Clara wanted to tell them that there really wasn’t any point in doing so; the sharp fall that would greet them was surely doing enough in persuading them to stay put.

   Simeon was standing in front of a set of large, silver doors. They looked old, which didn't come as a surprise. From what Clara could see, there didn't appear to be any handles, which felt like a design flaw. Unless the person who had created them intended for no one to ever enter the Tardis again. If that was the case, they were going to face some awkwardness.

   “Here I am,” the Doctor pronounced, regaining some of his usual energy. “Late for my own funeral.”

   “Open the door, Doctor,” Simeon said, cutting to the chase as ever. “Speak. And open your tomb.”

   “No.”

   “Because you know what’s in there?”

   “I will not open those doors.”

   “The key is a word lost to time. A secret hidden in the deepest shadow and known to you alone. The answer to a question!”

   The Doctor marched towards him. “I will not open my own tomb.”

   “Doctor…what is your name?” When he didn't get a response, Simeone sidestepped away from the Time Lord. “The Doctor’s friends. Stop their hearts.”

   The faceless men hissed and shrieked, a truly awful sound. Clara spun on the spot, suddenly in line with the others as their enemies approached. The henchmen held an arm aloft each, walking slowly and ominously towards them. They probably would have been able to run from their pursuers if the area hadn’t been so frustratingly closed off. Why was that always the case? Every corridor they found themselves in always had to have a dead end.

   “Madam, boys, combat formation!” Strax instructed. “They are not armed!”

   The Sontaran was known for his unrelenting thirst for blood, so it wasn’t a shock to see that he was the first one to produce a weapon. A heavy blaster was soon in his grasp, pointing it expertly at one of their foes. A short beam of red energy fired from the gun and it would have connected directly in the chest of the desired target, if it hadn’t passed through the faceless man harmlessly as if he wasn’t truly there. Clara’s face fell, having momentarily believed that they had the upper hand for once.

   The doors opened, releasing a wave of harsh, bright light onto the dark plain. Clara looked back in disbelief, finding the Doctor leaning on the wall, acting whilst everyone else had been distracted. Had he given the answer? Had he whispered his name to save them? His face was ashen, as if he was only just realising what he’d done. But Simeon’s soldiers stopped their pursuit, no longer needing to go through with their threat. In a rare show of emotion, Simeon smirked at the opening, though his gaze may have been directed more towards the hunched form of the Doctor.

   “You are weak,” he spat. “You are predictable. And, for that, you are useful. For a few moments longer, at least.”

   The Doctor straightened his back. “Do you honestly know what’s in there?”

   “For me, peace at last. For you…pain everlasting. Won’t you invite us in?”

   As if unlocking the entrance wasn’t enough, the Doctor was forced to open the doors physically, creating a large enough gap for them all to pass through easily. They must have been heavy and ancient because the Time Lord groaned loudly through the exertion. Or maybe the location was finally getting to him, if it truly was so intimately linked to him. Even Clara was starting to feel her head spin, as if the tomb was reaching out to her, as if the tomb was speaking directly to her, urging her to step inside.

   She didn't really know what she’d been expecting the interior to look like. In the end, it made sense for it to largely resemble the console room she knew and loved dearly. The only marked difference was that the walls and railings were covered in vines and weeds, signalling how nature had been the only thing to make its way into the Tardis over the many years. It almost made the space look more whimsical, something out of a fairytale, except it was leaning more towards the daunting spectre of the villain’s lair.

   That may have been accentuated by the strange luminescence guiding them up the steps. The Doctor may have been the first to approach what once had been the console, but Clara felt its presence before him. The central part of the machine had been removed. In its wake was a column of dazzling light, tendrils of white energy interlocking and twisting around one another. It crackled and fizzed spectacularly, but Clara found that she couldn’t look at it for too long. Instead of its blinding nature, it was more down to the way it lured her closer, as if she had somehow seen this all before. If this was the Doctor’s grave, then why did she feel such a strong connection to it herself?

   “What is that?” Clara whispered.

   Whatever it was, Simeon was intensely transfixed by it. It was probably the fastest she’d seen him move since being reunited with the long-dead man. He was patrolling the perimeter of the force, staring at it with wide-eyed fascination. Was his plan to absorb the obvious power, giving him untold abilities? Or was there something even more sinister at play? Having been around him for long enough, and having almost been a fatality during his first plan, Clara didn't doubt that that would be the case.

   “What were you expecting?” the Doctor replied. “A body? Bodies are boring. I’ve had loads of them. Nah, that’s not what my tomb is for.”

   “But what is the light?” Vastra asked.

   “It’s beautiful,” Jenny added.

   Strax turned to his employers. “Should I destroy it?”

   Vastra glared at him. “Shut up, Strax.”

   Jenny was right. It was beautiful. It was alluring. That was the word Clara thought to use as she stared at it, ignoring her earlier qualms and giving into temptation. All she wanted to do was look at its majesty. How was it that it was achingly familiar? Her home world could never create such a gorgeous sight. Her eyes dazzled with its reflection and it felt like it was using that presence in her gaze to reach through her body, touching every part of her, encompassing her heart until it was in the very fabric of her soul.

   “Doctor, explain,” Clara said, if just to distract herself from the sensation. “What is it?”

   “The tracks of my tears.”

   “Less poetry, Doctor,” Simeon retorted. “Just tell them.”

   “Time travel is…damage. It’s like a tear in the fabric of reality. That is the scar tissue of my journey through the universe. My path through time and space, from Gallifrey to Trenzalore.”

   The Doctor slowly pulled out his sonic screwdriver and pointed it at the energy field. In response, different voices filled the air, competing for dominance. None of them sounded alike but Clara instinctively knew what she was listening to. These were the voices of the Doctor, the ones that had come before her stint in the Tardis. She was being made to live through snapshots of his existence and, yet, for some reason, it felt like she had heard them all before. Each new voice that filled her eardrums was somehow like the return of an old friend, just ones she had forgotten existed up until now. It made her head scream in protest.

   “My own personal time tunnel,” the Doctor continued. “All the days, even the ones that…I…uh…even the ones that I haven’t lived yet.”

   As soon as the realisation dawned, the Time Lord was brought down to the ground, perhaps under the immense weight of time swirling around them. If he really was the lord of it, then it was rising up against him, fighting back at last. Whilst the others kept a close watch on the soldiers flanking Simeon, Clara rushed to the Doctor’s side, not caring about the dirt or debris on the floor. As long as she concentrated on him, she was able to ignore the growing, gnawing voices in her head.

   “No,” he gasped. “No. This is why I shouldn’t be here. The paradox is…it’s very bad.”

   “Then you shouldn’t have opened those stupid doors,” Clara protested.

   “And let you die? Don’t you see all those paths I’ve been down on? All those stories playing out for us to see? They’d be rendered worthless if I suddenly decided to put myself first for once, if I chose to sacrifice someone like you.”

   Clara was too focused on the Doctor’s plight to notice the change in Simeon’s position, though her struggling friend’s frantic reaction was enough of a warning to alert her. She cocked her head to the side, spying their opponent standing much closer to the fizzing energy than before. He was staring at it just as she had been, as if he was simply looking at an extension of himself.

   “No,” the Doctor moaned. “What are you doing? Someone stop him!”

   “The Doctor’s life is an open wound,” Simeon said calmly. “And an open wound can be entered.”

   “No, it would destroy you.”

   “Not at all. It will kill me. It will destroy you. I can rewrite your every living moment. I can turn every one of your victories into defeats. Poison every friendship. Deliver pain to your every breath.”

   “It would burn you up. Once you go through, you can’t come back. You’ll be scattered along my timeline, like confetti.”

   “It matters not, Doctor! You thwarted me at every turn. Now, you will give me peace, as I take revenge on every second of your life. Goodbye. Goodbye, Doctor.”

   Simeon stepped backwards into the light and Clara watched as his back instantly straightened, his body arching in pain. His mouth hung open as he yelled out, the noise echoing around the abandoned console room. The faceless men faded away, which might have been reassuring if it wasn’t for the Doctor’s behaviour beside her. His body convulsed and twitched as if his limbs were being torn from his body. And, as much as Simeon’s shout had shaken her, nothing could have prepared Clara for the guttural scream that left the Time Lord’s lips, whilst she remained powerless to help him.

Chapter Text

 It should have been reassuring to no longer be in the same room as Simeon and his hideous minions, but the Doctor’s never ending cries would haunt her dreams forever. Unless this was already a waking nightmare. Clara clutched his body, trying to hold him close, trying to hug him into submission, but the rabid jerkiness of his movements meant it was impossible to provide the comfort they both required. Tears stung her cheeks and fell down, staining his own face, but they were both in too much pain to care.

   “He’s being rewritten!” Vastra gasped. “Simeon is attacking his entire timeline. He’s dying all at once. The Dalek asylum. Androzani.”

   Clara slowly lifted her head up. “What did you say?”

   The Dalek asylum. She thought back to one of her most frightful conversations with the Doctor, when he’d confronted her about the truth of her existence. She hadn’t known what he was talking about back then, and was still struggling to comprehend his words. But he’d definitely mentioned the asylum. He’d claimed to have met her in the past, the same woman, an event that Clara couldn’t remember. And yet images were now circling in her mind, bombarding her synapses. Bronze metal tanks screaming and yelling, creatures she had no right to know.

   “Did you say the Dalek asylum?” Clara asked again when she received no response.

   “Now he’s dying in London, with us. Instead of cleaning up the mess after your near death experience, he’s being tortured in agonising fashion.”

   “It is done,” Simeon’s disembodied voice told them.

   Clara turned her attention to the swirling energy, which had now turned red. She didn't want to think about why that was, considering the amount of blood that must have been shed throughout the Doctor’s history. She stared at the fissures in his reality and it continued to call her, like a parent summoning a child home whilst they played on the street. The adventures and games had to come to an end eventually; night was approaching sooner than they would have liked.

   “Oh, dear goddess!” Vastra exclaimed softly.

   “What’s wrong?” Jenny asked.

   “A universe without the Doctor…there will be consequences.” She began to walk away, perhaps looking to fix some of those damages herself. “Jenny. Strax. With me.”

   Clara put all her focus on the Doctor, whose cries had turned into pitiful murmurings. “The Dalek Asylum.” Her voice came out as a sad whisper, already knowing where this was leading. “You said that I helped save you and your friends. You never saw my face, but you heard my voice. How? How is that possible?”

   It was as if he was still able to pick up on what she was thinking even through his torment. “No. Please, stop, my life…my whole life is burning.”

   “I have to go in there.”

   It sounded so simple when she put it like that. Describing it in that manner made it sound as easy as walking through a door. A door that would permanently close behind her. It should have been a daunting prospect, but Vastra had been right. The universe wouldn’t be able to survive without the Time Lord’s constant interference. A universe without Clara Oswald would continue to thrive, even if it broke the Doctor’s hearts.

   “Please. Please, no…”

   “But this is what I’ve already done. You’ve already seen me do it. From the Dalek asylum to a random street in Paris, making sure you didn't get run over. Because that would have been such a stupid way to go.”

   She lifted herself up, detaching herself from the Doctor. He was too weak to stop her. Clara was rather proud that her legs didn't shake as she stood up, staring straight at her destiny. All throughout her time with the Doctor, she’d pushed herself to be brave. Now, faced with her own mortality, she wasn’t running away. She was choosing to do this, no matter how scared she was. Courage isn’t just a matter of not being frightened. It’s being afraid and doing what you have to do, anyway. A quote she shouldn’t have known, yet the words were filtering through her head like a rediscovered memory.

   “If I step in there…what happens?”

   “You’ll…you’ll be torn apart,” the Doctor croaked. “You’ll be…reduced to millions of pieces, fragments of what you once were. A million…versions of you, living and dying throughout the entirety of time. You’d be an echo.”

   “But they’d saved you, right? The fragments? The echoes? That’ll be their job. I’ll make it their job. Because, even if I die, I can’t comprehend the thought of losing you. If I had to go through that…well, it’d be like dying regardless, so I may as well make it worth something.”

   “You…can’t…”

   She bent down, cupping his face. “It’s the only way to save you, isn’t it? You just don’t want to say it.”

   “Because…because I don’t want to lose you.”

   “Isn’t it comforting to know that there will always be a version of me standing by your side, even when you don’t know it? You’re not losing me. You’ll be gaining me forever . That’s the commitment love entails, Doctor.”

   “They won’t be…the real you.”

   “No. But they’ll be imbued with the truth of myself, which has always been to look out for you. Even when I was young, I was looking out to the stars, waiting for you without even knowing it.”

   “The stars are going out.” Vastra had returned, her eyes teary. “And Jenny and Strax are dead. There must be something we can do?”

   Clara moved ever closer to the fizzing energy, tempted to just reach out and grasp it. “If this works, get out of here as fast as you can, okay?”

   “What are you talking about?”

   “No…stop her…” the Doctor tried to yell.

   “And spare me a thought now and then.”

   “Clara…no…there has to be another way…”

   “In fact, you know what?” She turned to face him one last time. “Run. Run, you clever boy. And remember me.”

   Clara chose to follow her own advice, taking the final few steps in a sprint, hurtling towards the energy until it consumed her. From that point on, there was no telling where she began and the winds of time ended. She was simply a by-product of its power. She expected it to hurt at first but it was strangely soothing. Perhaps that was because she knew this was the right decision, the only decision. How could something possibly hurt when she was comforted by the knowledge that her sacrifice would save the universe? A young woman from the streets of London had become the most important in existence for those few seconds. It felt improbable.

   It felt impossible.

   She was falling. Clara knew that. Whether there would be an end to the experience, she didn't know. She didn't even understand what she was falling through , just that her senses were dominated by a whirlwind of orange and gold flames. Maybe this was what it felt like to be the Doctor. He lived his life with the power of time at his fingertips; did he always feel like he was falling just like this? Could he never stay in one spot because he’d inevitably feel the tug of time leading him towards another destination?

   Lives and experiences flashed through Clara’s mind like snapshots. The worlds that she was going to touch without her feet ever landing on the surface. A city built in the stars with a burning sky. The fabled asylum. The depths of the Tardis. A crystalline wall. Parks and wastelands. Bustling metropolises and destroyed civilisations. The very heart of Gallifrey, on a random day which would prove to be so very important to the rest of existence. The day the Doctor started running.

   Because he was always there, wherever she looked. He was around every corner, most of the time just out of reach, forever a tantalising presence. He’d run past her, knocking her over. Sometimes he’d drive by, perhaps only catching a glimpse of her in the rearview mirror. He very rarely heard her, unable to appreciate the efforts and sacrifices she endured to make sure he survived. And, every time an echo faded, it did so with a smile on its face, because it had completed its duty to perfection. 

   Clara couldn’t help but feel sad. All those places and all those different faces, and she wasn’t going to be able to experience any of them herself. She wanted to be the one who stepped foot on Gallifrey, finally witnessing the homeworld of the Doctor, the great planet that had shaped him into the man he was now. She wanted to talk to the other versions of him, to learn more about his past. His future was just as engrossing, the timestreams pulling her in each and every direction. 

   At one point, a vision flashed before her eyes, the life of another echo that she was doomed to miss out on. And there was the Doctor, of course. Except she looked unlike anything that had come before. Blonde hair cut into a short bob, a long grey coat and a jumper embossed with the colours of the rainbow. Clara studied the details until she was inevitably dragged away again, being lured in by the kind eyes she recognised and the brilliant smile. Oh, she truly wished she could have spent time with her.

   Clara didn't get to look at her long before more memories that didn't truly belong to her took their hold. The experience was dizzying and nauseating, and Clara simply wished for the spinning to an end. If this was the end of her life, she wanted it to be final and quick. She didn't want to be teased with lives she would never get to enjoy. The thought crossed her mind, amongst the madness, that it was entirely possible that this would go on forever. She would be trapped in this endless cycle, caught between life and death. 

   Somehow, she knew that her sacrifice had worked. Somehow, she knew that time had been restored. It was like a warmth was spreading over her body. Or was that down to the flames licking at her skin, preparing to tear her apart one last time, as the Doctor had said would happen? If it had been successful, then her job was done. Her story was finished. The time winds could claim her as yet another victim, but they would find that no one else would ever be so happy to greet them. 

   Clara was falling. Until she wasn’t. The vortex disappeared, replaced by a cold reality. A cold reality with an extremely solid ground, which she discovered when she was thrown against it. Her limbs felt numb and unresponsive for a few moments, meaning she was unable to wipe away the tears that were falling. When had she started crying? Were they the remnants of the tears she’d shed whilst clinging onto the Doctor’s body? The only physical reminder she had left of the reality she’d left behind?

   The ground was smokey. That was the first thing she properly acknowledged as she pushed herself up. It was smokey and dirty, as if the entire world had been on fire for its entire existence. There were tombstones surrounding her from what she could make out. Had she somehow made it back to Trenzalore? Had she survived? It would have been one hell of a miracle if that was the case. But the realm felt distorted, like she was being made to look at it through a thick fog or a pane of glass during a rainy day.

   Maybe she hadn’t survived, which was the likely outcome. Maybe the tombstones were her own. There were many of them, an incalculable number. Perhaps each tombstone represented a life that had emanated from her before crumbling to dust as it was destined to do. When they’d arrived on Trenzalore, the Doctor had claimed it to be the site of a great battle. What if it had ended up being the battle of her against the Great Intelligence, with her echoes being the sole victims?

   “Doctor? Doctor!” If anyone could help her it would be him. “Please! Please, I don’t know where I am.”

   “Clara?”

   She spun around in fright as the Doctor’s voice sounded nearby. It was the strangest phenomenon, which was saying a lot after what she’d been put through. It was like he was simultaneously whispering in her ear as well as shouting from a long distance away. Just like her latest surroundings, it didn't make sense. But the familiarity of his voice stopped her sobs for the moment, instilling within her an odd sense of belief that there was light at the end of the tunnel.

   “You can hear me,” he said. “I know you can.”

   “I…I can’t see you,” Clara whimpered.

   “I’m everywhere. You’re inside my time stream. Everything around you is me.”

   She looked on in surprise as people began to walk past her. People she’d seen in those confusing visions. White hair belonging to the man she’d met on Gallifrey. A dazzling, multicoloured coat that boggled her senses. Was that a piece of salad on his lapel? A leather jacket, belonging to a man who wouldn’t stop running.

   “I can see you,” Clara said, risking a nervous smile. “All your different faces…they’re here.”

   “Those are my ghosts. My past. Every good day, every bad day.”

   Lightning struck and she hugged the ground in fright. “What’s happening?”

   “I’m inside my own time stream. It’s collapsing in on itself.”

   “Well, get out then! The whole point of this was to keep you alive!”

   “I won’t leave until I have you again, Clara. Not until you’re safe in my arms. Because, like you said, that’s the commitment that comes with love. And it works both ways.” The voice altered, becoming more echoey, more real . “Clara! Clara! Come on! Come to me!”

   Her turn this time was much slower, but powered with an overwhelming sense of joy and relief. The Doctor was standing just a short distance away. A solid figure, unlike the spectres she’d been surrounded by up to that point. He was smiling at her encouragingly and that was the only motivation she needed. Instead of being forced in one direction by an almighty power, she was now able to move herself, with each step coming awkwardly and painfully. Her approach was nothing more than a stagger but she kept on pushing herself.

   “Come on!” the Doctor shouted. “You can do it! I know you can!”

   “How?” she asked. “How are you there?”

   “Because you need me, Clara, and I’ll defy every law in the known universe to get to you under those circumstances. How many times have you saved me, hey? Too many. Far too many. And I’m eternally grateful. But just this once, just for the hell of it, let me save you! You have to trust me, Clara. I’m real. Just one more step.”

   She collapsed into his arms, using hers to wrap them around his neck, keeping her upright. He felt solid and real and, for once, she didn't want to pick holes in the fantasy. For once, she just wanted to believe that the magical Time Lord had risked his life just to help her. Clara cried some more, probably making his shirt wet, but he didn't seem to care. The Doctor was too busy planting kisses against her wild hair, encouraging her to pull back slightly, with the next kiss that came being against her lips.

   “Clara! My Clara!” he said once they parted.

   She was going to enjoy this moment. After all the pain, she was allowed to enjoy the moment. The way his lips felt, how passionate the embrace was, the way he referred to her. She was going to soak it all in. She was his Clara and he was her Doctor. It felt right. Except she wasn’t given the chance to appreciate it as much as she wanted to, sensing his body becoming rigid. Initially, she presumed it was an adverse side effect of the strain he was being put through. But he was staring at someone. A person, she noted as she craned her neck, who had their back to them.

   “Who’s that?”

   “Never mind, let’s go back.”

   “But who is he?”

   “He’s me. There’s only me here, that’s the point. Now, let’s get back.”

   Clara shoved him away slightly, refusing his urgent attempts to drag her away. “But I never saw that one. I saw all of you. Even the ones still to come. All those faces, but never that one. It doesn’t make sense. I saw each and every Doctor.”

   “I said he was me,” the Time Lord sighed. “I never said he was the Doctor.”

   “I don’t understand.”

   He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Look, my name, my real name…that is not the point. The name I chose is the Doctor. The name you choose, it’s like…it’s like a promise you make. He’s the one who broke the promise.”

   Her head felt weird, woozy. Clara could feel her eyes threatening to drift shut, the experience finally becoming too much for her human body. She did her best to keep them open, to take in all the details she could manage of this stranger. But the Doctor’s arms were still around her, the safest place in the universe, the only place where she could give into temptation and fall asleep. She began to fall but the darkness had already consumed her by the time she was caught.

Chapter Text

When she eventually woke up, Clara was in that mental state where you simply didn't want to open your eyes. That brief period in the morning where the possibility of falling back to sleep is a tempting option, instead of an unrealistic dream. She was in bed, which was reassuring. The sheets were soft and cold against her skin, helping her relax. It was a much needed comfort, given how badly her head was pounding. As a wave of nausea threatened to overpower her, she sunk deeper into the duvet, wishing that the world would stop spinning.

   She’d had enough of that for one day. Spiralling out of control, tumbling down the very core of time until she began to lose the sense of her own identity. Clara was caught in a difficult position. She wanted to close her eyes and shut herself off from reality for a few more hours, or a couple of days if she were lucky. But, when she tried to, all she could picture were the flames that had consumed her, the memories that didn't truly belong to her. She couldn’t escape what she’d done. She thought she’d been rescued but, even though her body now appeared to be safe, maybe she was doomed to feel like she was falling for the rest of her life.

   The only reason why she chose to open her eyes, blinking wearily, was the sound of a drink being poured. With the sheets rustling to accommodate her movement, Clara shifted onto her side with a muffled groan, looking to find the source of the unorthodox alarm. The Doctor was hunched over the bedside table, delivering the contents of a teapot into an awaiting mug. Clara didn't know whether he realised that she was awake, and she wasn’t about to give it away either. She was going to enjoy the opportunity to secretly observe him in action, in such an unusually domestic context. 

   She spied a chair sitting right next to the bed, with his coat slung lazily over the back of it. Had he been waiting for her to wake? Had he been watching over her? There was a book left behind on the seat, suggesting that he’d at least occupied himself with something over than solely staring at her. How long had he been there? Clara’s heart swelled in appreciation, once again being reminded that she had someone willing to guard and protect her without needing to be asked. Not that she ever would have asked. 

   Along with the warmth settling through her body, it was joined by a certain thrill as well. This was her bedroom in the Tardis, something that had been waiting for her before they’d taken off on their first adventure, though she hadn’t been told that until she’d properly agreed to that lifestyle. And the Doctor was in her bedroom for the very first time. People back home would have labelled it as scandalous. But any woman practically living with a man outside of wedlock would have been sneered at, so she’d lost the favour of her society a long time ago.

   It made her wonder what it would be like to wake up like this every morning. Not with the pulsing headache. She could easily do without that, thank you very much. But images flashed through her head of finding the Doctor next to her every day, looking after her like he was doing now. Images that were much more pleasant than those of her fragmented lives. And, the more she thought about it, the more salacious the desires became, picturing the Doctor lying in bed with her, the two of them simply grinning at one another with their heads pressed gently against the pillows. 

   There’d been a point, caught between her decision to run into the Doctor’s time stream and when she was actually within it, that Clara had been certain that she was going to die. She’d accepted that. She’d accepted that she’d crumble into atoms in a time that wasn’t her own, so very far from home. Now that she’d survived, a miraculous turn of events that she certainly wasn’t going to complain about, her hunger to live was stronger than ever. Yes, that revolved around continuing to explore the cosmos, using her existence to expand her knowledge of the universe. But living - truly living - meant building connections. It meant taking that life and intertwining it with someone else’s. She wanted that with the Doctor. She needed that with the Doctor. 

   They were both independent people. That was putting it lightly. When she’d found the Time Lord, he’d been as isolated as any singular person could fathomably be. Clara, on the other hand, had taught herself to be strong in order to survive a harsh world that wasn’t really designed for her. Therefore, she had to expect some resistance if she broached the topic. There would be clashes. And yet shouldn’t they have been celebrating the fact that they’d managed to escape their purposeful solitude and found one another? Surely that showed that, if anyone was right for them, it was one another.

   “You shouldn’t be thinking so hard.”

   Lost in her head as she had been, Clara hadn’t noticed that the Doctor had turned his attention away from the hot beverage to focus on her. He was smiling at her, a caring twinkle in his eyes, as he poked her playfully on the nose. It made her wonder whether he was somehow reading her mind, picking up on the dreams that dominated her thoughts. She’d been so focused on them that those thoughts must have been extremely loud, practically making it easy for him to acknowledge their presence. If he was smiling, did that mean he wanted the same thing as her? Or was her head so fried from recent experiences that she was now being utterly delusional?

   “How do you know I’m doing that?” she grumbled. “Are you looking into my head? Can you do that?”

   “I wouldn’t have to,” the Doctor answered casually. “Your face being so scrunched up kind of gave it away.”

   Instead of remaining bent over, which must have been a painful strain on his back (especially at his age), the Doctor chose to perch on the edge of the mattress. He watched as it sank slightly under his weight. If Clara didn't know any better, she’d have guessed that he was nervous. Or awkward. Or shy. One of the three. Or maybe a combination of all of them. Having him so close, his legs practically grazing her own (even though there was still a duvet between them), made her feel those emotions too. Was that the explanation behind his own stilted stiffness?

   What was interesting was that his response didn't actually cover whether he had the ability to read her thoughts. He’d hinted at it in the past, but Clara had always presumed that he was joking, trying to big himself up to impress her. She didn't understand her feelings when it came to the prospect. There were certain expectations of privacy that she still held, even when it came to her close relationship with the Doctor. But, again, there was that odd thrill, that suggestive voice in the back of her head that made her think that she wanted to know what it felt like, at least once. To transcend any levels of intimacy that humans could share. 

   “You brought me tea,” Clara said, because it was a lot easier to talk about that topic than anything else racing through her head.

   “And breakfast.” He paused, gesturing to a wild assortment that included two bowls of cereal, a bagel with cream cheese, croissants and jam, cured meats, and a pile of toast. “I thought you might need your energy when you woke up.”

   “And you thought I’d want to eat like a horse?”

   “Well, I’ve never had to deal with someone falling through the flow of time, so I didn't know what I needed to prepare for,” he admitted. “The one time that came close involved an old friend of mine who absorbed the heart of the Tardis, and that led to some unfortunate ramifications.”

   “Did they die? Am I going to die?” 

   Her voice became surprisingly shrill, but the Doctor was on hand to reassure her once again, rubbing her arm up and down. Clara wasn’t used to this. She wasn’t normally rendered so panicky so easily. It was entirely possible that her experiences had changed something within her. It was reasonable to expect that certain things would have been altered. In the space of a few blistering moments, she’d lived countless lives, or at least witnessed flashes of different existences. During that freefall, she’d died too many times to remember.

   That was the crux of the matter and it went a long way in explaining why she was so worried now. She’d never tasted death before. Not personally. Now, she’d experienced it firsthand. Over and over again. She knew what it felt like to have those final seconds before the light eventually faded from your eyes. The fear, the panic, the odd sense of acceptance. It was like death was now a close personal friend of hers, waiting behind every corner. Every other Clara Oswald had succumbed to a dreadful fate; surely that meant she was doomed to face that inevitable ending too.

   “Woah, woah, woah!” He placed his palm against his forehead, akin to him taking her temperature. “Nothing’s going to happen to you. I won’t allow that, don’t you worry. If you must know, I was the one to die in that scenario.”

   “Oh.” She felt a bit like an idiot, like she was alarming him for no reason.

   The entire situation was reminding her of the early days with the Doctor. She’d been in the same position, recovering from a near death experience. He’d been standing over her, smiling in that fashion that seemed to persuade her that everything was going to be okay. It was startling to think of what she’d been through since that moment in time. It was even more daunting to consider how much she’d changed from the person who’d almost fallen from the clouds.

   “You would have seen that version of me. You would have seen every version of me, though, so that doesn’t really narrow it down.”

   “Yeah. I did.”

   He frowned. “Are you okay?”

   “I’m fine.”

   “You’re definitely not a good liar. I wish I could say that I’d teach you…but I don’t want you to be able to keep secrets from me. Especially when they concern your welfare.”

   “Honestly, Doctor. I think I’m just still tired.”

   “There’ll be time for rest. You’ve already had a lot of it.”

   “How long have I been out?”

   “A day. Close to two, actually.”

   Clara tried to push herself up, but he wasn’t for having it, using his strong grip to keep her in place. “I slept for that long?”

   “You obviously needed to recover. Which doesn’t come as a surprise. Human bodies aren’t built for surviving amidst the time storms. Neither are Gallifreyan bodies, to be fair.”

   “Does that mean you’ve been recovering too?”

   “No. I needed to make sure that you were safe. That was my priority.”

   “ Doctor . You’re probably struggling just as much as me. You need to think about yourself.”
  “That can come later,” he said, waving a flippant hand. “Time Lord bodies are more durable. I’ll be fine . I promise.”

   “Are you sure?”

   Yet another thing that was playing on her mind. It wasn’t just different variations of herself who she’d seen turn to dust repeatedly. Clara had been forced to live through the entirety of the Doctor’s life, which included living through all of his deaths as well. It was difficult to look him in the eye, having seen the same gaze go blank, having seen the face change so often. He may have continued to survive, but he changed constantly, his life more fragile than he cared to admit. How long would it be before the man sitting next to her also disappeared, consigned to the history books just like the men she’d looked after?

   “It’s not your job to fret over me.”

   “It’s a good job that I don’t see it as a job, then. You’re skirting the issue.”

   “You went through extraordinary pains to save my life, Clara. My lives . The least I can do is sit by your bed whilst you sleep, making sure nothing untoward happens. You could have taken a fever. Your mind could have started breaking down from the trauma. Do you really think I would have been able to rest, knowing that was at all possible? Knowing that you were alone and probably scared? From now on, my duty is to make it up to you after what you did for me.”

   “I…I didn't jump into your time stream so that I could lord it over your head,” Clara argued. Complaining so much was starting to take a toll on her body, her limbs feeling weak. “I didn't do it to earn some favours in return.”

   “I know,” the Doctor replied, his tone becoming less sharp. “But that’s what you’re getting out of it. No arguments.”

   “You’re being unreasonable.”

   “I usually am.”

   “It’s around about now that I start to wonder whether I made the right decision in saving you.”

   “Because I’m a pain in the backside?”

   “To put it politely.”

   “You still haven’t answered my original question. About how you’re feeling.”

   “I distinctly remember responding so I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

   “ Clara . I want an honest answer this time. You’re not yourself. I’ve spent so much time with you now that I’m going to spot these things.”

   It was difficult to know where to begin. 

   “I…it’s…I was…I still feel like I’m falling. I know I’m not. Obviously. But I’ve basically been told that my entire existence was to appear throughout your life, sacrificing myself one way or another. I saw so many different versions of myself. It’s like…I don’t know where I end and they begin, you know? I was broken, torn apart, and then put back together again. Does that mean I’m still the same person who left you on Trenzalore? Am I the original? Or just an echo, exactly like the rest of them? You replace the handle and the brush of a broom so many times that it ceases to be the same broom you originally bought. Has that happened to me?”

   “Oh, Clara.” The Doctor leaned forward, placing a tender kiss on her forehead. “I wish I could tell you that everything is going to be alright. But I don’t want to lie because I simply don’t know what you’ve been through. All I can say for sure is that you were the one to make that decision, the one to walk into the time storm, which means you were the catalyst. You were the spark that made everything happen. Those echoes…they didn't know what you did. The Oswin I met in the Dalek asylum…the Clara who pushed me out of the way in France…they didn't know who I was, or that they were genetically programmed to look out for me. You retain all of those memories. That makes you different from the rest. And you’re the only Clara Oswald I want to be with.”

   “But that’s the thing, isn’t it? There’s undoubtedly more of me out there in the universe. What happens if we bump into one of them and…and…you decide that you prefer that version? Someone from a time that’s more modern or advanced? Sometimes, I think I’m holding you back, with how many mundane questions I have to ask. What if there’s a Clara you could travel with from the far future, who understood everything about space and time travel? You’d be perfect for each other.”

   “She wouldn’t be you. As silly as that sounds, given the circumstances. But I wouldn’t be able to look past that.”

   “You’re just saying that.”

   “I’m really not. Because those Claras all share one fatal flaw when compared to the original.”

   “Which is?”

   “I don’t love them nearly as dearly as I do you.”

   Clara had to admit that that was a pretty good answer. She edged closer, resting her head on his lap. “There’s something else that’s been bothering me.”

   “I’m all ears.”

   “Can you turn into a woman?”

   His eyes widened. “I beg your pardon?”

   “One of the versions of you I saw…was a woman. And it’s like I knew it had to be you.”

   “Time Lords have the ability to regenerate into any gender so it’s entirely feasible. Though I haven’t been a woman yet, from what I can remember. I think you might have inadvertently given me a spoiler into my future.”

   “And that’s a bad thing?”

   “Well, I’ll just make sure to carry the required underwear with me the next time I’m about to change. Just in case.”

   Clara stiffened. “You’re not going to do that, are you?”

   “What?”
  “Change. I…I don’t want you to regenerate. I’ve seen you die far too many times recently. I don’t think I can go through that again.”

   Another kiss, somehow even gentler this time. “I promise that I’m not going to leave anytime soon.”

   “I know that’s not something you can truly promise…but I appreciate the sentiment all the same.”

   Clara was just settling into the position, growing more comfortable, when the Tardis rocked to one side. In alarm, the Doctor jumped up, sending her head falling onto the mattress. She might have glared at him if she hadn’t been so concerned about what was happening, though she would definitely be having words with him later. He rushed over to the wall, opening up a hatch that contained a small screen, with most of the symbols sporting a worrisome shade of red.

   “What’s going on?” Clara shouted. “Have we taken off? Is someone flying the Tardis?”

   “No! The engines aren’t operating at all! We’re…we’re being picked up!”

   “Picked up?”

   “Like one might pick up a spot of rubbish! Just on a much bigger scale!” He slammed the hatch closed again, hell bent on getting to the console room. Even Clara’s current state wasn’t enough to stop her from chasing after him. “This has UNIT written all over it!”

Chapter Text

 “How many times must I tell you? I don’t like being picked up!”

   The Doctor probably thought that that was a good line. It probably sounded perfectly fine in his head. Clara sniggered all the same, which alerted him to the problem. He shot her an embarrassed look, as if he was constantly worried about making a fool of himself in front of her. How could she tell him that she’d fallen for the fool? With uniformed men dominating the area they’d been taken, there likely wasn’t going to be an opportunity for that any time soon.

   The Doctor had confidently strode out the Tardis to meet their welcoming party. Along with the group Clara suspected were soldiers, seeing as they were carrying guns, were two women. One, blonde, was draped in a black coat, whilst the other, a brunette, was sporting a rather absurdly coloured scarf that Clara seemed to remember from her dive into the Doctor’s past. Did that mean he knew these people? Had he gifted the woman the accessory when he’d finally realised that it wasn’t remotely fashionable?

   There were plenty of things competing for Clara’s attention. She might have focused on the fact that two women were apparently leading a division of the army, the sort of notion that would have gotten you locked away for the good of your own sanity in Clara’s time. She might have appreciated that they were once again in what the Doctor viewed as the modern day, judging by the cars whizzing by in the distance and the people on their phones, the devices flashing for some reason that Clara couldn’t understand.

   Instead, what truly enthralled her was the machine in the sky. It was hovering above them, making an ungodly noise as it moved, and producing a strong gust of wind that Clara was doing well not to succumb to. The last thing she wanted was to fall over, diminishing her chances of impressing their captors. The machine in the sky had some sort of claw attached to it, with its grip on the Tardis finally relinquished as it flew away. Clara watched it in fascination as it quickly grew smaller, though she knew her ship wouldn’t have been too happy about the journey. 

   The question had to be asked whether they were actually captives. The soldiers weren’t pointing their guns at them, which was pretty good going based on the Doctor’s track record. And, as much as he was clearly disgruntled about their unwanted intervention, the Time Lord was wearing something akin to a smirk as he greeted them. Perhaps the line between friends and enemies became blurred when you led a life like the Doctor’s. 

   “What is that thing?” Clara asked, pointing up at the retreating object, getting gobbled up by the clouds.

   “Hmm?” The Doctor turned to face her. “Oh, that! It’s a helicopter. Basically…a car that can fly. Just as you imagined the future would hold, hey? I’d love to take you in one at some point. What I don’t love is having my Tardis stolen away whilst I’m still inside it. Do you know how big a hit that is to my ego?”

   “We have certain protocols, Doctor,” the blonde woman explained. “You’ll understand that. If the Tardis is spotted, seemingly on its own, then the best course of action is to bring it in.”

   “You could have knocked!”

   “We didn't think.”

   “No, you never do! UNIT.” He rolled his eyes. “You never learn.”

   Clara noticed that the other women were staring at her in confusion and she suddenly felt strangely self conscious. Was she making a spectacle of herself? Was she asking stupid questions? They wouldn’t understand her lack of knowledge, presumably jumping to the conclusion that she was an idiot. She’d seen the number of companions the Doctor had had over the years and, ever since that glimpse into his past, she’d felt the need to almost compete with what had come before. Maybe his standards had slipped when he’d offered her a place on the Tardis.

   Apparently, the Doctor picked up on the slight tension, because he was speaking again before long. “Oh! This is Clara, by the way. Clara…this is Kate Lethbridge-Stewart, UNIT’s Chief Scientific Officer.”

   “You know that I only go by Stewart at work,” Kate remarked.

   “That might work with some people, but it doesn’t slide with me.”

   She extended a hand towards Clara. “You must be the Doctor’s new companion…”

   “Technically new. Also old. She’s from the 1800s!” The Doctor sounded giddy at the information. “Isn’t that amazing?”

   “Well, it explains why she’s not on our records yet. We like to keep up to date with your associates so colour me impressed that you’ve been able to pull the rug out from under us this time.”

   “I like to keep you on your toes.”

   “This must all be so confusing to you,” the brunette said to Clara, sending her a pleasant, albeit nervous, smile. “Walking around in the modern world.”

   “Well,” Clara tried to respond but the Doctor cut her off.

   “I’ll have you know that she’s brilliant wherever and whenever she goes! She takes everything in her stride.”

   “And I can also speak for myself. Or do I need to remind you of that?”

   Kate smirked. “I can already see why you chose her. And, funnily enough, our work today revolves something else from a time long left behind.”

   The Doctor’s brows knitted together. “You have my attention. But be warned…it can drift exceptionally easily.”

   “I’m acting on instructions directly from the Throne.” She was handed a folded piece of paper with a hardened lump of wax at its centre. “Sealed orders from Her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth the First.”

   Clara frowned. “Elizabeth the First? Are you serious? She’s from before I was even born.”

   “A long time before that,” the Doctor noted. “A few hundred years.”

   “Her credentials are inside,” Kate said, stopping the Time Lord before he could open the document. “No, inside .” 

   She gestured to a large, stone building acting as the backdrop to their conversation. Banners hung at its entrance, declaring it as the National Gallery. It was one of the few locations that Clara recognised from the London she’d known, feeling a strange affinity for it. Just like her, it was a testament to a period of time consigned to the history books. If it could stand so proudly and unwaveringly in the modern age, then so could she. 

   As they walked in, Clara wasn’t able to admire the snapshots of artwork that adorned the wall. The Doctor was walking with a purpose through the gallery. He was agitated. There was an uneasiness to his expression now and she got the sense that he knew something was about to go wrong. In truth, when someone like the Doctor got a mysterious summons, it never ended well. But she’d thought that, so soon after dealing with one major crisis, they’d at least get a short break. She was still recovering from her turmoil, with another one seemingly on the horizon.

   “Unified Intelligence Taskforce,” the Doctor said, cutting through the silence.

   Clara looked up at him. “Pardon?”

   “This lot. UNIT. They investigate anything revolving around aliens.”

   “So they’re your ideal company?”

   “I used to work for them, actually.”

   She gave him a dubious look. “You had a job?”

   “You had two at the same time, in completely different sections of society. You shouldn’t be surprised what people do for a paycheck. Even if I haven’t checked my wages for a good few decades.”

   “You’re still getting paid?”

   “I’d hope so. Otherwise I’m going to have to give up that timeshare in the Florida Keys.”

   Their destination was fairly obvious once they saw more uniformed men waiting for them. They were standing beside a covered object. A painting, it turned out, once the sheet was dramatically removed. It seemed that UNIT had a penchant for the theatrics, which explained why they got on so well with the Doctor. Clara couldn’t believe what she was saying, yet another thing to add to the list of items that were baffling her that day. 

   “But…” she murmured.

   The Doctor’s expression only darkened. “No More.”

   “That’s the title, yes,” Kate confirmed.

   “I know the title!”

   “Also known as Gallifrey falls. These are Queen Elizabeth’s credentials.”

   “That’s Gallifrey?” Clara asked.

   “You’ve heard of it?”

   “I’ve stood on it. I’ve lived there.”

   “I…don’t quite understand. I thought you said you were from the Victorian Age.”

   “It’s a long story. I’m still trying to process most of it.”

   “This painting shouldn’t be here,” the Doctor said quietly. “Not at this time, nor on this planet. It’s the fall of Arcadia. The second city of Gallifrey.”

   Clara moved closer to the artwork, giving her a better angle to take in the perplexing dimensions. It was like she could reach in and be a part of that world. It wasn’t just a realistic painting. It felt entirely like a moment in time had been snatched away, locked into the frame for people to observe that point in history. She could feel her eyes brimming with tears for some reason. She was looking at a world burn. The Doctor’s world. In a different life, it had been her home too and her heart ached for the loss. Echoes of emotions that shouldn’t have belonged to her, and yet now made up her consciousness.

   “Time Lord art,” the Doctor explained, as if he could sense all her questions. “A frozen piece of time. Bigger on the inside.”

   “Elizabeth told us where to find it,” Kate pressed on, oblivious to their personal dilemmas. “And its significance.”

   Clara felt the Doctor’s hand reach for her own, a show of intimacy that she desperately clamoured for. It had become an unspoken part of their relationship, for specific moments like this when the Doctor wanted her to know he was struggling, without necessarily informing everyone else. She wondered what he was going through. He’d talked about the war before, and how his people had perished. Now, he was being made to relive it all over again.

   “He was there,” the Doctor told her.

   “Who?”

   “Me. The version of me you saw after saving me. The version I’ve learnt to discard.”

   “You’re willing to talk about him now?”

   “It’s not as if I’ve got much of a choice. I’m being faced with those actions yet again. He was the Doctor who fought in the Time War. What this is representing…this painting…it’s the day he did it. The day I did it. The day he killed them all. The last day of the Time War.”

   Clara looked at Kate. “If the war is over, why have you brought us here to look at this painting?”

   “It only serves as the Queen’s credentials,” the other woman reiterated. “A way to prove that the letter is truly from her. It’s not why you’re here.”

   The Doctor took that as his cue to crack the seal, opening up the folded paper and taking a few moments to read its contents. With how fragile he seemingly was, Clara didn't push her luck by reading it at the same time. She trusted that he’d tell her all the important details. It was probably naive to believe that he also trusted her so complicitly to keep her forever in the loop, but it didn't stop her from clinging onto that faith.

   “I’m guessing the Under Gallery has been breached,” he said after he was finished with the letter. “And you were forced to summon me. What dangers have you got lurking down there that you’d rush to fulfil orders from the sixteenth century? What happened?”

   “It’s easier if we show you.”

   Once again, they were made to follow a precession of soldiers, walking deeper into the gallery. It made a change, at least. Clara had grown accustomed to running from place to place, so the sedate pace was mildly comforting. Then again, the air was so thick with tension, a stormy cloud hanging over their heads, that whatever comfort she could grasp didn't stay for long. That was particularly true when they came to a smaller room, in which metal doors closed behind them, locking them inside.

   Clara shouldn’t have been particularly surprised that there was another artwork ready to greet them. Its contents, however, were just as startling as the one they’d just left. Queen Elizabeth I was starting back at them, looking as regal as you’d expect. The man beside her was dressed just as nicely, with a ruff around his neck. It was a man she only recognised through the brief imprints of memories she’d been bombarded with thanks to the Great Intelligence. It was the same man who was standing next to her now, though he looked remarkably different.

   “He was the one who came before you, right?” she asked in a low whisper.

   “My, I’m surprised with how much he’s been keeping you in the loop,” Kate said with a smirk.

   “This point in my life was still hundreds of years ago,” the Doctor outlined. “How long a regeneration lasts is really down to how careful you are. And, if you hadn’t noticed already, I’m rarely that.”

   “And this point in your life…involved being close with Elizabeth the First?”

   “Jealous?”

   “It’s just another reminder of how long you’ve lived and the number of connections you’ve made along the way. Hearing about it was one thing. I could almost distance myself from the idea. But now I’ve seen it, and it’s more difficult to accept.”

   “It doesn’t diminish my feelings for you, Clara.”

   “This way,” Kate instructed, cutting their conversation short.

   Again, it wasn’t the time or place for those discussions. Clara was seeking clarification, which seemed like an improbable notion with how confusing the Doctor’s life was. If it was normal in any way, they wouldn’t have been escorted through the door that was hidden behind the portrait. The room beyond was pitch black until they took a few steps within its confines, coming to life and illuminating the surroundings. The first thing Clara noted was the volume of sand on the floor, allowing their footprints to leave marks. She didn't voice her confusion; perhaps it was a choice of design that the modern age thought popular.

   “Welcome to the Under Gallery,” Kate pronounced. “This is where Queen Elizabeth stored any art she deemed too dangerous for public consumption.”

   Clara wanted to know how art could possibly be so dangerous that it needed to be locked away. It sent a shiver down her spine as she considered what might have been created. What lay under the tarps around them? Was the legion of statues so disfigured that looking upon them would drive a person to mania? She’d already had a run-in with a statue with an attitude; if another Weeping Angel was about to pounce, she was hoping she’d get fair warning.

   “Stone dust,” the Doctor commented, crouching down on the floor and running the substance through his fingers.

   “So it’s not sand?” Clara asked.

   “Is it important?” Kate wondered.

   “In twelve-hundred years, I’ve never stepped in anything that wasn’t.” Again, that probably sounded better in the Doctor’s head than it did out loud.

   Kate gestured to the brunette. “Osgood, get a team and analyse the stone dust. If there’s anything even remotely unusual about it, I want to be the first to find out.”

   “I’d actually like to be the first.”

   “Sorry, Doctor, but if you still want your job, you’re going to have to remember who’s in charge. I’ve got my name on a desk. You haven’t.”

   It was rather amusing to see someone else put the Doctor in his place so efficiently. Clara wasn’t about to say that, seeing his wounded, puppy-like expression. She simply coiled her arm around his, leading him away from the spot of disappointment. The Under Gallery was more than just the room they’d entered. A hallway contained paintings on the wall and strange artefacts in glass boxes, but Kate walked past them as if they weren’t at all interesting. Her focus was on the final chamber, which already had people milling about inside.

   “This is why we called you in,” Kate explained.

   Unlike what they’d first witnessed, the floor wasn’t covered in dust. It was, in fact, littered with shards of glass. The debris appeared to originate from three framed pieces of artwork which had been smashed. Clara could instantly tell that it was another piece of Time Lord technology, seeing as the scenic views of tan mountains and roaming fields were in three dimensions. 

   The Doctor stood closest to it. “Interesting.”   

   Clara always loved this part, where they could start hypothesising. “The broken glass?”

   “Not exactly. I’m more interested in where it’s broken from . Look at the shatter patterns. The glass on all these paintings has been smashed from the inside .”

   “You’ll note that they all depict landscapes,” Kate pointed out. “No figures of any kind.”

   “And you’re telling me this because…?”

   “Because there used to be.”

   She handed the Doctor a tablet, showcasing what the pictures had originally looked like. As Clara stood on her tiptoes to examine the evidence, it was clear to see that there had been people standing in a spot that was now empty. And they looked as if they’d been walking towards the now destroyed exit.

   “Something got out?” she theorised.

   “Lots of somethings,” the Doctor agreed.

   “The whole place has been searched,” Kate told them. “There’s nothing here that shouldn’t be, and nothing’s got out. I run a tight ship when it comes to security.”

   “Oh, Kate Stewart, those are going to be famous last words.”

   The Doctor’s remark seemed to come true straight away because one corner of the room was suddenly filled with a torrent of energy, a whirlwind, a cyclone appearing out of nothing. Clara instantly felt uneasy in its presence, feeling the tear through time it represented. After her recent experiences, it turned out that she’d become especially susceptible to its influence. She was frightened that she was being recalled, as if Time deemed that she no longer had a rightful place in the world. She always knew that she’d be condemned to a life of purgatory after stepping into the Doctor’s time stream.

   “Oh, not now!” the Doctor complained.

   “You know what it is?” Clara didn't know whether to be relieved about that.

   “I remember this. Well, almost remember. I think this is where I come in.” He was grinning, which gave Clara a sinking feeling. “Geronimo!”

   And, without warning, he took a giant leap and threw himself into the portal.

Chapter Text

 “Doctor, is that you?”

   “Ah, Clara! Hello! Can you hear us?”

   Clara breathed a sigh of relief. She probably should have been accustomed to the Doctor doing things that didn't make sense, things that left her constantly on edge. Even by his standards, leaving her stranded in a secret gallery that had possibly been broken into, and jumping through some sort of portal that didn't have a clear destination was difficult to comprehend. If she’d known Kate a little bit more, she might have been reassured. But she was now caught in a strange world with a stranger beside her. It was going to be one of those days.

   “Yeah!” she answered the Doctor’s non corporeal voice, looking up at the whirlwind and speaking to that as if it were a mouthpiece. “Where are you?”

   “Hmm, good question. Where are we exactly?”

   “England, 1562,” another person said.

   Clara frowned. “Who are you talking to?”

   “Myself,” the two voices replied, intermixing with one another. Clara’s head began to show the telltale signs of a migraine.

   “Can you come back through?” Kate asked, apparently not as fussed by the growing mystery of the Doctor’s new companion.

   Frankly, Clara was growing quite concerned that the Time Lord was in the process of replacing her. Was this how it worked? Was this how he worked? He jumped through a wormhole, found someone who took his fancy, and forgot about who he’d left behind? After all, Clara had served her purpose now. She’d saved him thousands upon thousands of times. What was there left to do other than for him to move on?

   “Physical passage may not be possible in both directions,” the Doctor responded. “Ah…hang on! Duck incoming!”

   Again, Clara pulled a confused face. “A duck? Or do you want us to duck?”

   “A rubber duck!” He was sounding increasingly exasperated. “I always carry one with me, just in case of emergency.”

   “What sort of emergency would require a rubber duck?”

   “This one! I just threw one into the portal. Has it reached you yet?”

   “There’s nothing here.”

   “Where did it go then?” Clara’s potential successor wondered. The voice had a certain lilt that was recognisable to her but there was so much going on that it was difficult to follow.

   She turned to Kate. “Who’s he talking to?”

   “He said ‘himself’,” the other woman remarked.

   Clara’s eyes bulged, with the realisation coming like a slap across the face. “You can’t mean…”

   “Things must be dire if that’s the case.” She pulled out a phone, already walking away. “Keep him talking. It shouldn’t be a difficult job.”

   With no other option, and now officially alone for the time being, Clara focused on listening into their conversation. It was difficult at times. A wormhole didn't always have the best reception, surprisingly, meaning their voices were often distorted. And it was presumably easy for them to forget that she was listening in to their interaction, because they would occasionally mumble and whisper, making Clara’s eavesdropping near impossible.

   She wondered which Doctor he was being made to spend time with. After her experiences with the Great Intelligence, she’d logically assumed that that would be the last time she’d be faced with the Doctor’s past. At least in such a visceral, physical manner. Yet time continued to swirl around him, begging the question of whether he was truly the lord of it or whether it ruled him. Clara found herself wanting to meet this other face. She wanted to know whether they remembered her, when it was surely impossible that they did. If another Doctor was there, did that mean there would also be another companion not too far away? Was she going to get the chance to see who’d come before her? Not that it was a competition.

   It was.

   There was a moment when the Doctor, or possibly both of them, used his sonic screwdriver, because the horrendous noise nearly deafened her, amplified as it was by the tear through reality. Clara was rather proud of herself, using terms like ‘ tears through reality’ as if it were a perfectly reasonable thing to go through. But the strangest occurrence was when yet another man entered the fray, speaking to them, asking whether they knew who he could find a doctor . It wasn’t long after that unexpected arrival, that they were seemingly joined by a large group of shouty people, which didn't necessarily come as a surprise. The Doctor had a habit of upsetting the wrong people.

   “I think there’s three of them now,” Clara told Kate when the UNIT official returned.

   “There’s a precedent for that,” was the calm response.

   “Yes! Now that you mention it, that is witchcraft!” The Doctor’s voice, belonging to her Doctor, echoed through the room. “Witchy-witchcraft. Hello? Hello there? Excuse me? Hello? Am I talking to the wicked witch of the well?”

   “He means you,” Kate was quick to say.

   “Why am I the witch? We’ve only just met. Have I made that bad of an impression?”

   “Clara?” the Doctor asked.

   “...hello?”

   “Hi, Clara. Nice to hear your voice again. Would you mind telling these prattling mortals to get themselves begone?”

   “What…he said.”

   “Well, with a tiny bit more colour, please. Perhaps using the voice of…I don’t know…a Victorian governess?”

   Clara rolled her eyes. “Really?”

   “It would be a massive help. Thank you in advance.”

   She cleared her throat, mentally returning to that point in her life, before things had truly taken off. “Prattling mortals! Be warned! Leave my friend alone or…I’ll turn you all into frogs!”

   Was that a suitable threat? She didn't know what scared people in 1562. During her travels, it wasn’t normal for her to be more advanced than the locals.

   “Ooo, frogs!” the Doctor repeated. “You heard her.”

   Clara sighed, her normal tone returning. “Doctor, what’s going on?”

   “It’s a…timey-wimey thing.”

   That resulted in some bickering for a few moments, which seemed to prove that the third arrival was also the Doctor because only he could complain so much about himself. Clara didn't know whether it was a good thing that a distraction came in the form of the supposed Queen, based on the shouts of the soldiers. Whilst it shut the Doctors up, much to Clara’s relief, it quickly came with the threat of incarceration. Again, it was the typical routine for the Time Lord.

   “No, hang on. Did you say the Tower?” her Doctor was asking. “Ah, yes, brilliant! I love the Tower! Breakfast at eight, please. Will there be wifi?”

   “Are you capable of speaking without flapping your hands about?” the gruffer Doctor remarked.

   “Yes.” Clara could hear him gesticulating through the portal. “No. I demand to be incarcerated in the Tower immediately with my co-conspirators…Sandshoes and Grandad.”

   “Grandad?!”

   “They’re not sandshoes!”

   “Yes, they are!”

   “Silence! The Tower is not to be taken lightly,” the Queen told them. “Very few emerge again.”

   “Dear God, that man’s clever,” Kate said, prompting Clara to turn around. “Come on.”

   “Where are we going?” It felt like the obvious question.

   “My office. Otherwise known as the Tower of London.”

**********

   It was the first time that Clara had ever been in a car. She knew that she was supposed to be playing it cool, with Kate evidently having dealt with a number of the Doctor’s companions in the past. She didn't want to show that the Time Lord’s standards had dropped. But her giddiness couldn’t be contained, giggling at the sight of the world rolling past the window in a blur, pressing her nose right up against the glass and leaving a smudge. She fiddled with the seatbelt, marvelling at the contraption, before being told to stop by their impatient driver.

   She felt oddly nauseous once she was out, which wasn’t helped by being escorted deep under the Tower. The place obviously had a reputation. If people spotted them, would they think that she was on the verge of being locked up? The dark corridor she now found herself in was imposing, similar to what she imagined it must have been like for the inmates walking to their eternal cell when the building had been in use. What was so special about it that the Doctor was eager to go there? If he had a plan, was he relying on her to figure it out?

   “The Black Archive,” Kate told Clara as they walked through the dimly lit hallway. “Highest security rating on the planet. The entire staff have their memories wiped at the end of every shift. Automated memory filters in the ceiling.”

   Clara didn't like the casualness in which Kate described the process. She thought back to when she’d first met the Doctor, when he’d attempted to wipe her memory of all traces of her time with him. Thankfully, Strax and the memory worm hadn’t been a suitable mix, saving her from that awful fate. She remembered arguing against it strongly, believing that her mind deserved to be left alone. How could someone almost sound gleeful whilst outlining what UNIT did to their own employees?

   They were given access to the room beyond by a lone security guard, who apparently believed that it was his first day on the job, despite Kate claiming that he’d been there for a decade. Clara practically shivered at the look on the man’s face, seeing how fully he believed the lie, not knowing the truth of his own life. It made her wary of the other woman, particularly when she used the same key that had opened the door to lock them inside once it had shut.

   “Lock and key?” Clara asked. “Isn’t that a bit…basic? I though the modern world would have conjured up something more technological than that by now.”

   “We can’t afford to have electronic security down here. Otherwise, the Doctor would make short work of finding a way inside. Technology can be hacked. The whole of the Tower is Tardis-proofed, which, let me tell you, isn’t easily done.”

   “Why are you so scared of letting him in?”

   “He really wouldn’t approve of the collection.”

   “But I can walk right in?”

   “You’re not a threat.”

   If there was one thing that Clara didn't appreciate, it was being underestimated. Especially when the person doing it didn't even know who she was. It was like Kate kept forgetting that she had company, walking with a purpose and only allowing Clara to tag along for the ride because it was easier than telling her to stay away. She didn't notice Clara’s scowl at her comment, mainly because she was staring intently at a large box with glass panels.

   “What’s that?”

   The box contained a single object. It looked very much like an unorthodox piece of jewellery, but Clara couldn’t judge what passed for fashion nowadays. If she had to guess, she would have said that it was designed to go around the wrist, judging by the leather straps. Straps attached to a small piece of technology, from what she could tell. Why was such an innocuous thing locked away so securely? Was she underestimating its potential just as much as Kate had misjudged her perception of Clara?

   “Time travel. A vortex manipulator, bequeathed to the UNIT archive by Captain Jack Harkness, on the occasion of his death. Or one of them, at least. No one can know that we have this, even our allies.”

   “Why not?”

   “Think about it! Americans with the ability to rewrite history?”

   “I haven’t had much experience with Americans…”

   “Ah, yes. I keep forgetting about your background. Trust me, count yourself lucky on that part.”

   “So this is how we’re going to save the Doctor? Travel through time to the Elizabethan age?”

   “I’m not sure there’s enough power in the device for a two-way trip,” Kate said as she opened up the door, allowing them to walk into the roomy container. “In any event, we don’t know the activation code. The Doctor knows we have this, so he’s always kept the digits from us.” 

   Clara’s unsettled state of mind only worsened as Kate’s phone rang. “He doesn’t trust you, then?”

   “Let’s hope he changes his mind.” She answered the call. “Yes? Well, if you’ve found it, photograph it and send it to my phone!”

   Having been inspecting the object up close, Clara’s gaze landed on the sight of two arrivals joining them in the Archive. It was the woman from before, sporting the same absurd scarf, joined by another scientist who Clara was sure had greeted them in the Gallery. But their impassive expression sent a cold shard running down her spine, the growing sense that something was wrong ever creeping up on her.

   “Um…Kate…should they be here? Why have they followed us?”

   “Oh, they’ve probably just finished disposing of the humans a bit early.”

   “The humans…”

   “Dear me…I really do get into character, don’t I?”

   Watching in fear, Clara pressed her back up against the wall as Kate began to change before her very eyes. Her skin became red and blotchy, a truly horrendous sight. Crevices and suckers formed on her hands, the blonde hair disappearing completely before the entirety body was replaced by an ugly creature. Clara had nothing to compare it to whatsoever, jumping back as it spat red bile towards her and snarled ferociously.

   “The Under Gallery is secured,” Osgood told the monster.

   It turned around to face its apparent compatriot. Was Osgood one of them too? And the scientist? Could they disguise as anyone they wanted? How many were there? In UNIT? Across the world? It explained why Clara had been so on edge, picking up on the strange aura that Kate had been permeating. But nothing could have prepared her for this discovery. Why did aliens always have to have such pointy teeth? Or was that just the sort of crowd that the Doctor attracted?

   “Prepare to dispose of one more human,” the creature rasped. “We have acquired the device.”

   The phone had been left on the table. Clara heard it buzz softly, its screen lighting up. She couldn’t claim to have much of a working knowledge when it came to technology. But Kate - or whatever she’d turned out to be - had mentioned at length a code that was needed for the device to work. She’d underestimated Clara. It now turned out that there was a reason for that, an extraterrestrial not believing that a mere human could best it. If she had a chance of proving the monster wrong, then she was going to enjoy the moment.

   With the creature’s back to her, again making the mistake of not seeing her as a threat, Clara was able to reach over to the desirable object. Using it as she’d first assumed, she wrapped it around her wrist, using the touchpad to input the code that had come through on the phone. She hoped that the Doctor was going to be amazed when he learnt about how much technology she’d used in one sitting. She really was becoming accustomed to modern luxuries. Being surrounded by the Tardis and the wondrous machinery it possessed, it made this sort of thing almost pale in comparison.

   The beeping of the buttons alerted the alien to what she was doing but, by the time it returned its focus to Clara, she was already grinning. It snarled but she no longer felt the same amount of fear as a few moments before. As she felt her entire body being tugged in one direction, she just really hoped that this was going to work. The Doctor knew what he was doing. Most of the time. With a bright light surrounding her, she couldn’t believe that she was putting her life in the hands of him being accurate for once.

Chapter Text

The fact that she landed on firm ground a split second later came as a massive relief. Using the vortex manipulator had been a gamble, but one Clara had had to take. Otherwise she would have ended up looking like one of those red monsters, which really wasn’t something that looked enjoyable, based on how much they frowned. And, if they had the ability to look like anyone , given how convincing the Kate Stewart clone had been, then there was no telling what they could have done with her face under their control. Clara liked to think she had a certain sway over the Doctor that hardly anyone else possessed, meaning she could have been turned into an effective weapon. 

   She wasn’t an expert on time travel. She’d done it a few times now, with varying levels of success. But Clara wasn’t about to delude herself into believing that she knew what was going on most of the time. Even so, if the device had worked properly and she’d ended up in the 1500s, then surely there should have been more people around. Looking out a small gap in the surrounding stone walls showed that she was still in the Tower of London, although the scenery was markedly different. If her assumptions were correct, then why weren’t there any soldiers chasing after her?

   In truth, she wasn’t going to complain. One less complication was a bit of a rarity when it came to her recent adventures. It meant that she could focus on finding the Doctor, still hoping that she’d ended up in the right place. That involved desperately running through the corridors, occasionally tiptoeing around corners to make sure the coast was clear, and opening every door that she came across. Most of them were locked, with wails coming from within of the rooms’ tortured occupants. She was going to give up hope until one finally opened, with a trio of men all looking at her in shock.

   Clara wanted to cry when she saw the Doctor standing there. She hadn’t yet fully processed the danger she’d been in, coming so close to turning into something like Kate Stewart. It felt like all that fear and angst washed over her, threatening to spill out in rather ugly fashion. But, knowing who the other two people were, she thought it best to maintain her composure. After all, she wasn’t about to risk embarrassing herself in front of the Doctor, or Doctors . One face she recognised, one she didn't, unless she happened to look at him from the back.

   “How…did you do that?” her Doctor asked, struggling to find his voice.

   Clara folded her arms, glaring at him. “That’s the first thing you say? You don’t check to see if I’m alright. You don’t even ask how I got here in the first place?”

   “I…I was getting to that!”

   “The door was unlocked, if you’re that curious.”

   “Oh, I like her,” the Doctor closest to her version remarked.

   She stared at him unabashedly. During her descent into the Time Lord’s past, she’d obviously come across him before. The Doctor Vainglorious. The Oncoming Storm. Words and titles that she didn't truly understand. But standing right in front of him was a different matter altogether. The worst part was that he returned her look with one that made it clear that he’d never seen her before. There was no flash of recognition in his eyes. She’d been an intrinsic part of his life without him even knowing. How many years would it be before this incarnation learned the truth?

   “How did you get here?” her Doctor wondered. “Did you pilot the Tardis without my permission? I don’t know whether to be disgruntled or insanely impressed. It’ll help us out of this tight spot, though.”

   “Kate called it a vortex manipulator,” Clara explained, brandishing the device still attached to her wrist. “I think it only had enough power for one trip, but I wouldn’t know one way or the other.”

   The spiky-haired one pulled a face. “Cheap and nasty time travel, that thing. You’re lucky it worked properly.”

   “So are you, frankly. How long would you three have been waiting in here before you even tried the handle? You would have all regenerated before you came to your senses, which I assume would make things a whole lot more complicated. I thought that having three of you in the same room would make you cleverer, but maybe it’s had the opposite effect.”

   “It should have been locked!” the older one protested.

   Well, he looked older but Clara supposed that the man now looking at her was the youngest of the trio. She didn't know what to make of him. He looked perfectly innocent. Sweet, in fact, if she had to choose a word. But the Doctor was obviously distrusting of him, seeing as his existence was still shrouded in mystery. She’d met all the Doctors, but this was the first time she was getting to look him in the eye. What was so dangerous about a man who possessed the same twinkle and spark that she’d grown accustomed to?

   “Why were you even using that thing in the first place?” her Doctor asked pointedly, placing a hand on her forehead as if to check if she was still feeling alright from the experience. 

   “I had to escape,” Clara told him, reliving those recent events. “Kate Stewart…wasn’t Kate Stewart anymore. She was this big…red…creature.”

   “A Zygon,” Sandshoes surmised. 

   Her Doctor’s face fell. “That means UNIT is infiltrated. And they’ll have access to untold technology, similar to that vortex manipulator, or even something more dangerous. Which really begs the question as to why they didn't lock the door! Surely they’d want us out of the picture!”

   “I wanted to see what you’d do upon escaping,” a calm voice responded.

   Clara froze when she saw the Queen - the actual Queen - saunter into the dusty cell. She didn't know what she was supposed to do. Was she meant to bow? If she’d locked up the Doctors, did that mean she was one of those Zygons? In truth, throwing people into prison was something that the royals tended to do in this period of time from what Clara had heard, so it was entirely fitting of what was to be expected. And the Doctor was always doing things to get under people’s skin. Amplifying that by three meant that this fate was unavoidable.

   “You appear to be fond of this world,” she continued. “I think it’s time you see what’s going to happen to it.”

**********

   Clara didn't think that an underground lair was on the schematic for the Tower of London, but the Zygons had definitely been doing their fair share of decorating. Whilst the stone walls were just like all the others they’d walked past, they were covered in odd, red strings, akin to the sinew of a particularly tough piece of meat. Whatever they constructed, it seemed to be biological in nature, rather than the cold, harsh metal that Clara had seen become so prevalent in the future. And their machines were marshalled by a number of the aliens, though there didn't appear to be enough to start any kind of war.

   Then again, with their abilities, there could have been millions around the world for all they knew.

   The Queen, or at least the Zygon pretending to be her, explained that their race had lost their planet during the Time War. All three of the Doctors’ faces fell at that, as if they were still haunted by the consequences of that point in their lives. For the youngest of the trio, it was still waiting for him in his future, which Clara kept forgetting. Time Travel was a tricky thing to wrap your head around. Even more so when the Zygons’ plan revolved around that process too, seeking to invade the planet when it was more advanced than its current 16th century state.

   They were made to watch in avid curiosity as a Zygon approached a clear, glass sphere. Upon touching it, it glowed a soft blue and the creature slowly faded into nothingness. Yet that wasn’t strictly true. Because a painting, depicting a familiar, mountainous landscape, had gained a new occupant. Clara’s eyes widened as she observed this magic in the act, not caring if the Doctors weren’t sharing a similar level of wonder.

   “That’s him!” she exclaimed. “That’s him in the picture now. The one we’ll see in five hundred year’s time.”

   “It’s not a picture,” Grandad told her sharply. “It’s a Stasis Cube. Time Lord art.”

   “A frozen instance of time. Bigger on the inside. Yeah, I’ve heard all of that before.”

   Her Doctor smirked, seemingly proud that she wasn’t cowering in the face of being surrounded by so many versions of him. Really, she should have been used to it by now. It was basically a part of her life, one she felt privileged to be experiencing.

   “They’re using it slightly differently than what we’ve come to expect,” he explained, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “This isn’t just a piece of art now. It’s being deployed as suspended animation.”

   “All the Zygons pop inside, wait a few centuries until the planet is properly baked, and then out they come,” Sandshoes added.

   “So the Earth we just left…the so-called modern day…they think it’s worth conquering now?” Clara surmised. “They’re invading the future…from the past?”

    Sandshoes turned to face the Queen, his nostrils flaring at the prospect of his favourite planet being attacked. “Do you know how I know you’re a fake? It’s because you’re such a bad copy. It isn’t just the smell…or the unconvincing hair…or the atrocious teeth…or the eyes that are just slightly too close together. No…my Elizabeth, the real Elizabeth, wouldn’t be stupid enough to reveal her own plan. Honestly…why would you do that?”

   “Because it’s not my plan,” she responded. “And I am the real Elizabeth.”

   “...what?”

   “My twin is dead in the forest! I am accustomed to taking precautions. These Zygon creatures never even considered that it was I who survived, rather than their commander.”

   “Long live the Queen,” Clara said in awe. “And you actually killed one of them?”

   “I may have the body of a weak and feeble woman but, at the time, so did the Zygon. The future of my kingdom is imperilled. Doctor…Doctors…can I rely on your service?”

   “Well, I’m going to need my Tardis,” Sandshoes pointed out.

   “It has been procured already. But, first my love, you have a promise to keep.”

**********

   “You know…I’ve been able to witness every point in your life…and I still never counted you as the marrying type.”

   Clara smirked at her Doctor as she leaned against the door of the Tardis. Sandshoes was currently in the process of tying the knot in front of the Tower, a hastily-created ceremony that didn't remotely have the same level of grandeur as what would normally be expected for a royal wedding. The only one who appeared more uncomfortable with the event was the Time Lord standing next to her, who’d been made suspiciously squirmish by her comment.

   As for the Tardis, it was clear from its exterior that it was different to the one she knew and loved. It was at a different point in its life, just the same as its owner. And yet it still conveyed the same level of warmth, allowing her to close her eyes in satisfaction whilst she rested on it. If anything, it gave her some comfort to believe that the ship recognised her, since it was a construct that didn't operate on a linear plane. If the Tardis knew who she was, and perhaps even what she’d done, then there was the small chance that the Doctor himself would figure it out at some point too.

   “Well…” His present incarnation wringed his hands awkwardly. “...this was more of a mistake. The result of a misunderstanding, more than anything. When he… I …proposed, I didn't actually think that she was the real deal. It was supposed to be a trick. A trap! Just one that I ended up getting caught in instead.”

   “That sounds like a lot of excuses for me. You could have easily run away if you didn't want this to happen.”

   “Run away? From the Queen of England? I like my head where it is, thank you very much.”

   “Still…it’s weird to see you in such a…domestic setting.”

   “We’re currently in the midst of an alien invasion. There’s nothing domestic about this.”

   “You’re deflecting again.”

   “This isn’t even the last time I did this!”

   Clara arched an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

   “There was a whole thing with the universe as we knew it ending and a woman trained to kill me. What else was I supposed to do?”

   “Ah, I see. You only take these measures when the situation is truly dire.”

   “Exactly.”

   “And do you put that in your wedding vows or not?”

   “You’re being particularly snarky, Clara. I’d almost be worried that you’d been replaced by a Zygon…”

   “It’s just…that last time you did…is it the last time?”

   “What are you trying to say?”

   What was she trying to say? Maybe it was nice to be presented with a reality that showed that the Doctor was willing to partake in human traditions. Amidst the craziness of their lives, it was possible that he would choose to settle down. Was that what she wanted? Or was it a combination of the two? The notion of a married couple travelling across the stars and saving civilisations from evil aliens certainly had a nice ring to it. It would make for a brilliant story. Clara had never even considered marriage before. Perhaps it was just because it was being thrown right in her face; it was only natural for her mind to wander to that topic.

   “If you were to find someone else…someone just as impressive as the Queen of England…would you be tempted to do it again?”

   “Are you asking?”

   “What would happen if I was?”

   “Come on, you two!”

    Sandshoes was racing past them, unlocking the doors with the skill of a man who’d done it plenty of times before. Grandad, on the other hand, didn't appear too taken with the idea of running, instead walking at a sedate pace into the time machine. Leaving a bemused Queen behind, Clara and her Doctor were given no choice but to follow. She felt that the intervention had come at exactly the right time, not knowing what she would have said otherwise. How could she even think about such things when the planet, as usual, was on the line? Maybe she was just getting used to the danger.

   Just like the outside dimensions, the interior of the Tardis was vastly different to what Clara now referred to as her home. Whilst her Doctor possessed a ship that was defined by sleek metal and sharp edges, Sandshoes ’ ship was dominated by browns and greens, feeling much more organic, as if the Tardis had been grown from the ground rather than built. It was, to put it mildly, more unkempt than what she’d come to expect, highlighting that this particular Doctor had been travelling on his own for a touch too long.

   “You’ve let this place go a bit,” Grandad complained.

   Clara’s Doctor waved a flippant hand. “Ah, it’s his grunge phase. He grows out of it.”

   “Thankfully,” Clara quipped. “Or I might not have stuck around for long.”

   “Don’t you listen to them,” Sandshoes soothed his ship, talking to it in exactly the same fashion as Clara had heard thousands of times when the Time Lord thought he was alone.

   There was a spark and, suddenly, the console room had changed, presenting itself as something much simpler. It combined the same console, though the walls were a combination of white and silver, with large circles adorning them.

   “The desktop is glitching!” Grandad theorised. “Three of us at the same time…it can’t decide which console we want!”

   Clara’s Doctor fiddled with the machinery closest to him and, after a few seconds of messing around, another spark was greeted with the arrival of yet another console room. It was one that instantly put a smile on Clara’s face. They’d returned to their home. As much as she was intrigued by the others she’d seen, this was hers . There were the steps she’d lounge on whilst the Doctor waffled on about something she wasn’t really interested in. There was the chair he’d put in just so that she could read. There was the pointy, metal shelf that the Doctor constantly tumbled into whenever they were flying.

   “Ha!” he shouted. “That’s much better! Stabilised. One less thing to worry about.”

   “Oh, you’ve redecorated,” Sandshoes said, spinning in a slow circle. “I don’t like it.”

   Clara glared at him as she patted the console affectionately, silently telling the Tardis not to listen to him.

   “You’re always so difficult to please! Look, we’re going to the National Gallery. The Zygons are underneath it.”

   “No!” Clara frantically interrupted. “No, UNIT HQ. They followed us into the Black Archive.” She promptly had the three of them staring at her coolly. “So…you’ve heard of it then?”

   “Sadly. And, if I know Kate as well as I do…or at least the track record of those pesky Lethbridge-Stewarts…they’re going to be tempted by the in-built security protocol.”

   “Which is…?”

   “Let’s just call it mutually assured destruction,” Sandshoes answered grimly. “The Black Archive contains multitudes of alien artefacts that would allow the Zygons to conquer Earth in less than a day. UNIT can’t allow them to get their suckers on that sort of stuff. So…in case of this emergency arising…they planted nuclear warheads underneath the Tower. Enough to level London in a matter of seconds.”

   “They wouldn’t do that!”

   “That’s the choice, isn’t it?” Grandad countered deftly. “Save the city or the planet? I never said they were good options to have.”

   “We need to stop them.”

   “Don’t you think I’m working on that?” her Doctor asked.

   “But we can’t get to them! Kate said that the entire building was shielded against the Tardis.”

   “Human stupidity will never cease to amaze me. No offence.”

   “Some taken.”

   For what Clara guessed was the first time that day, Grandad was smiling. “What if we don’t have to land?”

Chapter Text

It was a strange experience, being frozen in a moment of time. For the second time in her life, and the second time in the past few days, Clara had found herself on Gallifrey. And, instead of the towering metropolis she’d seen one of her echoes live amongst, the world she’d been immersed in was on fire. The main positive about the painting being a snapshot of reality was that she didn't have to contend with people running for their lives or dying right in front of her. She could ignore that heartbreak until the three Doctors were using an unsuspecting Dalek to crash through the frame of the picture. 

   What had transpired after that was a collection of moments that largely revolved around the Doctor showing off. No matter what face he was wearing, the ego evidently remained the same. In the end, UNIT’s techniques of memory erasure, the same protocols that had made Clara shiver the first time she’d been in the Black Archive, were used to their advantage. With the Zygons caught looking like their human counterparts, they were made to forget the truth of their existence, along with the corresponding people they’d copied. It was a rather effective way of bringing peace talks to the table. 

   Whilst her Doctor dealt with supervising those discussions, presumably still fearful that sound logic would be missing, Clara took the opportunity to wander around the cavernous room. She hadn’t been able to appreciate it before, seeing as they’d been in a rush to help the Time Lord and then she’d promptly been attacked. There were so many artefacts on show that she knew she should have avoided, but her curiosity always pushed her closer than was probably safe. What caught her interest most of all was a wooden board with pictures and notes stuck to it, all detailing people and moments from the Doctor’s past. She’d had a firsthand view to all those points, but it was still interesting to face what had come before her.

   She was in the middle of silently judging some of the Doctor’s former companions (for the sole reason of beating her to the Tardis) when Clara realised that she wasn’t technically alone. The Doctor, the one still shrouded in mystery, sat alone on a high back chair, taking long sips from a cup. He looked small and that was either down to the size of the chair or the weight of the universe seemingly pressing down on him. His expression was tired and weary, highlighting that he probably didn't want to be disturbed. But Clara had witnessed every point in the Doctor’s life…besides this one. How could she possibly be expected to turn away?

   “Hello,” she greeted quietly.

   “Hello,” he returned.

   Clara placed herself on a bench just in front of him, taking his response as an invitation. “I’m Clara.”

   The Doctor chuckled softly. “I know. It’s all my future self could talk about.”

   She smiled, a touch bashfully. “We haven’t really met yet. There hasn’t been time for introductions.”

   “I look forward to it.”

   Clara couldn’t help but stare at the man. She was trying to make sense of him, looking for any signs that would give away the truth of his character. She focused on the eyes, which looked so very similar to the ones she normally drowned in. The only difference was that they were dimmer, no longer holding the same spark or zest for life she’d grown used to. It was as if this particular incarnation had lost his love for the universe. If he’d existed in that hellish landscape Clara had only been forced to witness for a few seconds, then she could understand his perspective.

   At the same time, there was a hidden naivety to them. Amidst all the darkness and the sorrow in his expression, there was still a slice of hope fighting to shine through. The hope of a man who hadn’t yet condemned himself to the heartbreak that awaited him. Compared to her Doctor, his eyes resembled a young boy staring out across a large field, imagining what possibilities it could hold, rather than the man who’d watched it burn.

   “Is there a problem?” he asked, picking up on her obvious anxiousness.

   “The Doctor… my Doctor.” She grinned at that, very much like a child discussing their first love. “He’s always talking about the day he did it. The day he wiped out the Time Lords. It took some time before he finally opened up to me about it but, ever since then, it was like a dam bursting. I couldn’t get him to stop.”

   “That’s understandable.”

   “It shouldn’t be. Not for you, at least. Because you haven’t done it yet, have you? It’s still to come in your future.”

   “You’re very sure of yourself.”

   “He regrets it. He tries to hide it, too, but I’ve become something of an expert on reading his eyes.”

   “How many worlds do you think his regret has saved over the years? Even today. He wouldn’t allow UNIT to make the same decision he was forced to a long time ago.” He chewed on his bottom lip. “Tell me…how did you know? How did you know that I haven’t done it yet?”

   “I told you already…I’m an expert on reading your eyes. And they’re a lot younger than the ones I know.”

   “Well then,” he sighed. “That means it’s about time I grew up. I’ve seen all I needed. The moment has come.” He looked past Clara. “I’m ready.”

   “Who are you talking to?” she asked as she turned his head. 

   There was no one there. No one hiding just out of sight. But, by the time she looked back at him, the Doctor was gone. The chair was empty. The cup was left abandoned. She didn't know how he’d done it but, deep down, she understood why he’d left. And, even with peace negotiations ensuing, ones that were so vital to the future of her planet, Clara knew that she had to disrupt them. If there was a chance of saving the Doctor’s soul, then it was a chance she was going to take. After all, she’d been placed throughout history to do exactly that job. She hadn’t quit just yet.

**********

   “I told you, he hasn’t done it yet.”

   Clara wasn’t trying to sound cocky. As they stepped out from the Tardis into the old barn, she was saying it more to reassure the Doctor. His past selves were there in the room too, one walking from his own ship, the other standing by a strange box. Clara thought that the youngest of the trio would be happy to see them, viewing them as his salvation. Instead, the frown that had been, for the most part, etched onto his face only deepened.

   “Go away,” he barked. “All of you. This is just for me.”

   “You’re right about that,” Sandshoes responded. “These events should be time locked.”

   “So something let us through,” Clara’s Doctor surmised.

   “Go back,” Grandad instructed, turning his back to them. “Go back to your lives. Go and be the Doctor that I could never be. Make this worthwhile.

   “All those years of burying you in my memory, pretending that you didn't exist, claiming that you weren’t the Doctor.”

   “When you were the Doctor on the day it wasn’t possible to get it right,” Sandshoes said.

   The two of them placed their hands on top of their counterpart’s, atop a glowing jewel that was the centrepiece of the box. Clara’s eyes started to brim with tears as she was made to watch someone she dearly cared about on their darkest day. It hadn’t clicked what she was dragging them towards when she’d urged them to leave UNIT behind. Now, it was becoming too much to bear.

   “But this time, you don’t have to do it on your own.”

   “Thank you,” Grandad whispered solemnly.

   “What we do today is not out of fear or hatred,” Sandshoes proclaimed. “It is done because there is no other way.”

   “And it is done in the name of all the lives we are failing to save,” the Doctor added.

   Clara felt her head shaking, though it might have been her whole body that was trembling. What was she watching? All those stories she’d heard, it had been easy to picture someone else standing in her Doctor’s place, a different face, a different man entirely. How could the man with the bow tie and floppy hair, the man with the endearing grin and boyish charm, be the one who did this?

   He caught her eye, picking up on her distress. “What? What is it?”

   “No,” Clara said firmly.

   “What do you mean?”

   “You told me you wiped out your people. I just…never pictured you doing it. I…can’t let you do it. You ran away and lived on a cloud because you lost someone close to you. What will you do after this? After you’ve been made to relive this? And I was the one who pushed you to come. You won’t be able to look me in the eye ever again, because all you’d be reminded of is this very moment. The moment when the universe lost its charm and wonder.”

   “Then what would you have me do, Clara? What was the point in bringing me here in the first place if you didn't want this to happen?”

   “I thought…I thought that, since it hadn’t been done yet, you could…stop it from happening.”

   “That’s not possible. Either I kill my own people or let the universe burn.”

   “There’s a reason that these events are time locked,” Sandshoes declared. “They’re too vital to interfere with. There’s not another way.”

   “But you just said that something let us through,” Clara reasoned. “What if there’s a purpose for that? What if something is trying to tell you that things can change?”

   “Clara,” her Doctor said wearily, a sad smile decorating his face. “I know what you’re trying to do. And I appreciate the effort. But normal logic isn’t going to work here. Not this time.”

   “This isn’t about logic. It’s about faith! Faith in yourself, in the promise you made to yourself. You told me that your name meant something. Or have you already forgotten what it stands for?”

   “Never cruel or cowardly,” Sandshoes remarked, with the Doctor looking at him sharply, as if he were being betrayed.

   “Never give up,” Grandad joined in. “Never give in.”

   Clara continued to stare at her Time Lord, who bowed his head for a few moments. By the time he looked back up, his smile was no longer sad or heavy. There was a certain optimism in his expression. The foolish sort of optimism that always sets you up for disappointment, but one you never stop reaching for. It was the sort of optimism that defined her Doctor, or at least since she’d stumbled into his life. From that point on, as she watched his entire demeanour change, Clara knew that his decision had changed.

   “We couldn’t, could we?” he murmured.

   “You’re not actually suggesting that we change our own personal history?” Sandshoes asked in disbelief.

   “We change history all the time. I’m suggesting something far worse.”

   “What, exactly?” Grandad wondered.

   “I’ve had four hundred years to think about this. I’ve changed my mind.”

   A wave of his sonic caused the jewel to descend back into the box. His movements weren’t stilted anymore. They were as flamboyant and energetic as Clara had come to cherish. She felt her tears dry, a smile looking to break out onto her face as she watched her Doctor regain his vigour and passion for life. It wasn’t about her, she knew that. But it also felt incredibly good to have sparked this change.

   “There’s still a billion, billion Daleks up there, attacking!”

   “Yes, there is! I hadn’t forgotten!”

   “Then why are you sounding so excited?”

   “Because there’s something that those billion, billion Daleks don’t know yet,” Sandshoes said.

   The Doctor pointed his hand theatrically. “Because, if they did, they would probably send for reinforcements.”

   Clara just had to get involved, infected by their exuberant energy. “What? What don’t they know?”

   “This time, there’s three of us.”

   “Oh! Oh!” Grandad exclaimed. “Yes! That is good! That is brilliant!”

    Sandshoes started to jump up and down like an excited toddler. “Oh, I’m getting it too! That is brilliant!”

   “I’ve been thinking about it for centuries!” the Doctor yelled. 

   “I don’t enjoy being out of the loop,” Clara complained. “What’s the idea? What are we doing?”

   “The Dalek fleet are surrounding Gallifrey, firing on it constantly,” Grandad explained.

   “The Sky Trench is holding,” Sandshoes continued. “But what if the whole planet just…disappeared?”

   “I’ve seen plenty of things in my time, but that’s still a big ask,” Clara reminded them.

   “Just think about it though. The Daleks would be left firing on each other. They’d destroy themselves in their own crossfire.”

   “Gallifrey would be gone,” Grandad took over. “The Daleks would be destroyed. And, to the rest of the universe, it would look like they’d annihilated each other!”

   Clara still wasn’t following. “But where would Gallifrey be?”

    Sandshoes grinned, a touch maniacally. “Frozen. Frozen in an instant of time…safe and hidden away.”

   “Exactly like a painting,” the Doctor finished. “Oh, Clara! I could kiss you, I’m that excited!”

   She arched an eyebrow. “What’s stopping you?”

   He wasn’t going to refuse the offering, taking her by the hand before leaning in. The kiss was frantic and a little bit messy for Clara’s liking, but it was most certainly her favourite of the ones they’d shared. It was full of gratitude on the Doctor’s behalf, silently thanking her for not giving up on him, for reminding him of the standards he was supposed to keep. And Clara did her best to return the favour, thanking him for listening to her, rather than retreating into his own head as he had been culpable of in the past.

   “Does this happen a lot in the future?” she heard Grandad asking.

   “Yeah, it certainly becomes a more frequent occurrence,” Sandshoes replied. “I honestly don’t know where he gets it from.”

Chapter Text

 It turned out that, when the Doctor was in the middle of coming together with all his other incarnations in order to trap his planet in a bubble dimension, companions weren’t allowed to come along for the ride. He’d stated that it was something that he had to do on his own, a statement that was literal in more ways than one. So Clara had been left behind, waiting at the National Gallery, only able to experience the event vicariously through the details the Doctor was willing to give her afterwards.

   It might have been enough to put her in a sour mood. After all, Clara despised it when he worried too much about her. She got the sense that, even though there was an element of it being a personal task, the Time Lord had also been concerned about putting her in mortal danger. There was always a chance that they’d end up putting themselves into the stasis chamber in the process, forever trapped in a split second of time. He’d evidently not wanted to risk Clara suffering that possible fate, even if she would have preferred to have at least been asked .

   Then again, she couldn’t find it within herself to be too annoyed. She was now surrounded by the three Doctors she’d slowly become accustomed to. Simply getting to experience that felt like a privilege, especially when it didn't involve spiralling through the storms of time. But what was even more pleasant was the fact that her Doctor seemed happy . Even happier than usual, which was normally a well executed performance to keep her questions at bay. He’d been given hope that he’d saved everyone. A weight on his conscience had finally been lifted after centuries. It was enough to make anyone celebrate.

   “I don’t suppose we’ll ever know if we succeeded,” Grandad remarked. “But, at worst, we failed doing the right thing, as opposed to succeeding in doing the wrong.”

   Clara was sitting on the same bench as that particular incarnation of the Doctor, currently cradling a cup of tea. One that she didn't exactly know where her Doctor had got it from, unless he’d made time to pop down to one of the many kitchens within the Tardis. In the middle of taking a long sip, she glanced over at the nearest Time Lord, looking at him dubiously.

   “I thought this was supposed to be a party,” she pointed out. “Can we have less of the melodramatic introspection? It’s really putting a damper on things.”

   “We can’t help it,” Sandshoes said. “Melodramatic introspection is a part of who we are, whatever face we’re wearing.”

   Her Doctor and Sandshoes were standing up, staring at the painting that had started this latest, mind-boggling adventure. The scene hadn’t shifted. It still depicted the burning refuge of a Gallifreyan city. Clara wanted to look at it with more optimism than the first time she’d laid eyes upon it. Although the fires were still burning in that snapshot of time, there was now the very real possibility that they could have been put out shortly afterwards.

   “What is it actually called?” Sandshoes asked.

   “There’s some debate,” the Doctor answered. “Either No More or Gallifrey Falls.”

   “Not very encouraging,” Grandad commented.

    Sandshoes blew on his tea. “How did it get here?”

   The Doctor shrugged, inadvertently spilling part of his own drink. “No idea.”

   “There’s always something we don’t know, isn’t there? But I suppose that’s what keeps things interesting after all these years.”

   “I’d have it no other way,” Grandad said as he stood up. “Well, gentlemen…it has been an honour. And a privilege.”

    Sandshoes bowed his head. “Likewise.”

   Her Doctor smiled sadly. “ Doctor .”

   “And if I grow to be half the man that you are, Clara Oswald…”

    Grandad turned around, startling her and bemusing the other Doctors, who looked distinctly offended about being so blatantly snubbed. Clara felt herself tearing up as she looked at the older (younger) Time Lord, whose eyes seemed to be sparkling just that bit more than she remembered. She hated goodbyes. She wanted to learn everyone she could from him, even if she knew that he couldn’t feasibly stay forever. At least she was consoled by the fact that, though he was leaving, he was doing so as a slightly different man, thanks, in part, to her influence.

   “...I shall be happy indeed,” he finished.

   “It’s always good to aim high,” Clara said, standing up to give him a hug whilst surreptitiously wiping at her eyes.

   His expression sombred as he looked at his future selves. “I won’t remember any of this, will I?”

   “The time streams are out of sync,” the Doctor told him. “You can’t retain these memories, no.”

   “So, I won’t remember that I tried to save Gallifrey, rather than burn it. I’ll have to live with that.”

   Clara thought that was the most heartbreaking element of this whole ordeal. A good man was standing before her, but one who couldn’t know that he was precisely that. Without his experiences and his haunted memories, the Doctor wouldn’t grow into the man she’d fallen in love with. She knew that this had to happen, even if she didn't expressly understand the mechanics. But it didn't stop it from hurting when she contended with the fact that this Doctor would forget she existed for centuries, despite them growing so close. 

    Grandad sighed, but with a new smile on his face. “For now, then…for this moment…I am the Doctor again. Thank you.”

   With three almost identical Tardises in the room, they watched as he wandered slowly to the scrappiest of the trio. The blue box was scarred and dirtied by war, but the prospect of its future rejuvenation settled some of Clara’s anguish, as if it signified the positive changes the Doctor would go through too. He placed a hand on the door, looked back one last time, and then stepped inside. For the first time since it had become the soundtrack to her life, the noise of the Tardis’ engines left Clara feeling sad.

   “You know, I won’t remember any of this either,” Sandshoes said to his successor. “So you might as well tell me.”

   The Doctor was skilled at playing innocent. “Tell you what?”

   “Where it is we’re going that you don’t want to talk about. It’s hanging over you like a dark cloud. You can’t even properly enjoy this moment.”

   The Doctor took a few seconds before answering. “I saw Trenzalore…where we’re buried. We die in battle among millions.”

   “That’s not how it’s supposed to be.”

   “I know. But that’s how the story ends. Or so I believe. That doesn’t mean I won’t fight against it. I’ve got something in my life that’s far greater than any battle.”

   He looked over at Clara, who blushed under the intensity of his gaze. The last thing she wanted to do was think about that future they’d seen. A part of her had presumed that, since she’d saved him from dying there, that point in his life had been avoided. The fact that the Doctor was still troubled by the prospect meant that they weren’t going to be that lucky, and it served as a reminder that there were still forces in play that planned on taking him from her. Even if the Doctor wasn’t prepared to fight, she was already looking for the war paint.

   The two Doctors shook hands. “It’s good to know that my future’s in safe hands, no matter where we’re destined to go.” Sandshoes walked up to her. “Keep a tight hold on it.”

   “I’m never letting go,” Clara promised.

   He reached for her hand, planting a tender kiss on it. “And I should say thank you, if this is my one and only chance to do so.”

   “For what?”

   “For looking out for me for all these years. No matter what face I’m wearing. He happened to mention before what you’ve been through. So, even though I won’t know what you’re doing, you should realise that I’ll still be grateful.”

   She really hated that she was close to crying again. “You don’t know how much that means to hear.”

   “I guess I might be seeing you around, Clara Oswald.”

   “Don’t forget to say hi if you spot me.”

   It was surprising to find just how much effort it took to let go of his hand. As he walked towards his own Tardis, it felt like she was letting go of a part of the Doctor. She felt incredibly connected to all his incarnations but, after actually spending time with this version, that bond was stronger than ever. The Doctor - her Doctor - wrapped an arm around her shoulders, as if he could tell just how much she was struggling with the farewells.

    Sandshoes paused once he was halfway through the door. “Trenzalore. Nah, you’re going to have to do something about that. Find us a new destination because…I don’t want to go.”

   The Doctor rolled his eyes as the doors closed. “He’s always saying that.”

   The wind picked up and the blue box disappeared, leaving just one in the room with them. The Tardis, with all the adventures it contained inside. Clara couldn’t wait to see what happened next, what was waiting for them around the corner, but, instead, she plonked herself on the bench, staring wistfully at the painting. The Doctor kept fretting about Trenzalore but the artwork, and the day they’d just been through, told them everything they needed to know: even when things appeared to be set in stone, there was always more wiggle room than you expected.

   “Look at those big, sad eyes,” the Doctor sighed as he joined her. “I think you’ve gotten them from me.”

   “I’m not sad,” she countered.

   “You’re thinking about the future. And that can be sad and daunting, especially since you never know what’s coming.”

   “That’s the thing, though. I do. I’ve seen it. I’ve seen future versions of you, living your life. And the worrying thing is that, in those moments, you were with different people. I wasn’t there, besides my echoes. I know that, at some point, this time with you is going to end. And it’s terrifying. It’s one thing to see you forget me because the laws of time dictate that it has to be that way, like with the two who have just left us. But to know that, one day, you’ll move on and forget about me in a completely different fashion is…heartbreaking.”

   He held her hands. “Clara Oswald. How could I forget you? After everything you’ve done for? After all the love I hold for you?”

   “Like you said, you don’t know what’s coming in the future. Things could change.”

   “Then it’s a good thing that I’m not a linear creature. Right at this very second, I’m capable of experiencing the past, the present and the future…all at the same time. That means I’m blessed with knowing you, whilst getting to know you, and having the privilege of having known you. No one’s as lucky as I am.”

   “I…think that was sweet, even if I couldn’t understand most of what you were trying to say.”

   “It’s entirely possible that there’s a heavy dose of darkness waiting for us,” the Doctor admitted. “But I also know that, if I’m holding your hand, then I can get through anything.”

   “Now that was sweet. Well done.”

   “And there’s that smile on your face.”

   Clara rested her head on his shoulder. “Where are we going next then?”

   “That’s up to you. You’re the boss. Always have been.”

   “It’s good to see that you’ve come to accept that.”

   “You wouldn’t let me forget it.”

   Clara shook her head, shaking away the negative thoughts threatening to consume her, and stood up, offering her hand to the Doctor. “Come on.”

   “What’s the rush?”

   She was glad to see that he still took it, despite his protestations. “We’ve got all the time in the universe, I know. But, after today, I don’t want to waste a second of it. I think I’m addicted to the running.”

   “I’m afraid to say that there isn’t a cure for that,” he warned her, joining her on his feet.

   “That’s exactly what I wanted to hear.”

   “Have you got any plans then? Any ideas for our next trip?”

   “Well, seeing as you’ve already shown yourself to be a wedding man…what’s your favourite chapel?”

   His eyes widened. “Are you asking?”

   “Are you saying yes?”

   The Doctor grinned, holding Clara’s hand tight. “Let’s never stop running together.”