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“I have told you before, you can't just pull out a gun whenever things get hard!” Clara says as she slams the door to the TARDIS, and whirls to look angrily at Ashildr.
The other girl glares back, tucking the small blaster back into her waistband, “What do you want to do, let our enemies kill innocents until we realize we can't reason with it and will have to put it down?”
“That's not why we don’t use weapons! Everything deserves to live, we have to give it a chance!”
“And everyone else who deserves to live but doesn't, that would have gotten killed if I didn't shoot that thing, they're just collateral damage? That might be the Doctor’s way, but it's not mine. I know life is precious, I have learned that over a billion years, so I am trying to save the many by taking out the few! It's the safest, most efficient way to win!”
Clara stalks forward, “You talk like reasoning never works, usually there aren't casualties. And, if we just shoot whenever we feel threatened by hostile alien, what makes us any better than them?”
“If we let people die, what makes us better than them?”
By now they were yelling, though they are face to face. Clara runs a hand through her hair, trying to get a hold on her anger. Part of her searches Ashildr’s face, searching for some part that sees her side, that feels bad for killing the alien, as awful as it was.
She finds only the same fury that fills her.
“I can’t believe you’re so okay with everything. Is this what it’s like being around for a long time, do you just come to terms with everything and then there’s nothing you won’t do? You just killed something.” Clara takes a step back, as if she’d never known killers before, or soldiers. Internally, she is trying to calm down, but the longer the fight drags on, the more upset she becomes. “I need some space,” she spits, and almost runs into the corridors of the TARDIS.
There are tears in her eyes, and she’s not paying attention to where she’s going. The warm hum of the TARDIS assures her it will not let her get lost. So she just moves, trying to find somewhere that she can calm down, trying to get somewhere that she can breath, trying to get somewhere away from Ashildr.
Clara ends up in what she has come to call Storage Room B. There’s a main storage room that is never far from the console that is essentially a smaller version of this one, thus making it so people rarely go in here. But amid the stacks and shelves of boxes and the smell of dust, she usually finds peace. It’s Clara’s hidey hole, for when she needs to think, or be alone, or after a big fight (which happens more often than neither she nor Ashildr care to admit).
Clara paces the aisles between shelves, clearing her mind. She’s still upset, she still doesn’t approve of what the other girl did, but she needs to calm down. They can talk it out later. Eventually, she sits on the cool floor and counts the countless boxes on the shelves, an action she finds therapeutic.
By the time she has hit 537 (there are still hundreds of boxes in this aisle alone, it’s almost laughable) the sound of footsteps echoing in the large room fills her ears. Clara looks at the mouth of the aisle to see Ashildr making her way towards her, two mugs in hand.
The shorter girl doesn’t speak until she is seated besides Clara, when she holds out one steaming mug and whispers, “Truce?”
She takes the mug, breathing in the scent of warm tea. Then she nods, looking at the girl seated besides her. But there is still a bit of anger simmering under the calm.
Ashildr looks her dead in the eye, “I’m sorry.”
The words, so soft and simple and heartfelt, break Clara’s resolve, “I’m sorry too.”
Ash takes her hand, “No. Really, I’m sorry. We’ve talked about this before. It’s just, I came to peace with that tactic a long time ago. In an emergency, it just seems logical. It’s been awhile since I’ve had a moral compass other than my own.”
Clara smiles, “I seem to find I am the conscience for many formerly unguided aliens. And I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have gotten so mad.”
“You don’t have to be, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
The taller girl wraps her arms around her girlfriend, content to just soak up her presence.
“I’m not an alien, by the way,” Ashildr informs her, pulling out of the hug to see Clara’s face. She laughs happily, and picks up her tea from the floor to take a sip.
Ashildr rests her head gently on the other girl’s shoulder. “By the way, if you want somewhere to brood after a fight, you need to find a new place. At this point, I can find this room blindfolded.”
Clara rolls her eyes, “Shut up.”
“I’m still sorry.”
“I know.”