Chapter Text
When faced with disaster as her life crumbled around her, Clara did what she'd always done. She made lists reminding herself what she had to do every moment of every day. She stuck sticky notes to absolutely everything so she wouldn't forget; she organised down to minute details to prevent having to really think at all later on.
Because they helped, the lists. It had been a month already since Danny died, but having a plan to follow made her days bearable. It meant she could survive, even if her heart was in pieces.
Coal Hill, first. It was summer holiday; but Clara took the precaution of saying she might need leave in the autumn. She left her flat and moved into a house; needing more space and less memories. And then she locked down her tears to clean out Danny's possessions. Saving mementos, selling the rest; and then using that money and his own meagre savings to conduct careful research into Adam's background in Afghanistan.
Because Danny had asked her to send the boy home; but as the weeks wore on, she wondered if he'd realised how difficult that would be? Very, as it turned out. She couldn't trace him, couldn't just send him to his own country... and she wasn't sure how to fabricate paperwork to keep him.
The days ticked by. Sometimes, it surprised her that it had been a month, already. Her Gran called often, asking how she was doing; and Clara always managed to answer with a little laugh that she was fine, absolutely fine. She was keeping busy; her days were alright.
And they were. But alone at night, restlessly tossing and turning in an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar house; she thought she might break, eventually. Life had become strange and open and frightening; and she simply couldn't figure out what to do next. What would make her feel alive again.
It was one of those rare, lazy summer afternoons in London, full of warm sunshine and blue skies. But Clara was inside the stark coolness of the supermarket, pushing her trolley and consulting her grocery list, when she spotted something that made her stop: the woman down the aisle.
Or rather, it was her hair. Springy, riotous, reddish curls that seemed to dance on her shoulders as she walked; and Clara sucked in her breath, waiting for the woman to turn around - because it must just be her mind playing tricks on her. If she would turn around, Clara could find the strength to laugh at herself for her loneliness, her depression making her think she saw someone who couldn’t be there.
But she didn’t turn. So Clara found herself abandoning her list to surreptitiously follow the woman around the store, stalker-like. In the dairy aisle, she reached for tub after tub of yoghurt, just trying to get a look at the woman’s face. In produce, something green –asparagus, maybe, or broccoli, Clara wasn’t paying attention except for vaguely noting the colour- went into the trolley; but then the woman ducked around the corner, out of sight.
“No,” Clara muttered to herself. She began to walk a little faster; she reached the end of the aisle and swung the trolley around to the right when it hit something, coming to an abrupt stop. Clara looked up, a half-mumbled apology already on her lips when she froze.
She'd run into the very woman she'd been looking for. And it was her, after all. River Song, with that knowing smirk on her lips, and a teasing glint in her eyes; looking almost exactly the same as she’d looked years ago, during a conference call that spanned across time.
“Hello,” River said mildly. “Fancy seeing you here.”
“I think I should be the one saying that,” said Clara. “Oh, and sorry for hitting you.”
River shrugged, brushing off the apology with a smile. “I understand. You did seem a bit distracted.”
“I was. I saw your hair, and I thought it was you… except-” Clara stopped talking, suddenly uncomfortable. After his years at Christmas, it was as though regeneration had loosened the Doctor's tongue. In fact, he couldn't stop talking about his wife: the stories had poured out of him about the things they’d done, the places they'd been. The way he marvelled at her intelligence to match his, her grace with a gun; and even while deploring her methods, he'd still sounded so admiring...
He'd even -only once, and she'd never dared ask again- told her about that final expedition to the Library that had claimed her life; and so, unlike at their first meeting, Clara knew exactly who River was. And she knew that the woman in front of her should have been dead.
Except that she wasn’t. River was clearly very much alive, and seemed to recognise her; which should have been impossible.
River grinned wickedly at Clara, no doubt having some idea of her thoughts because she finally said: “Don’t worry. I know.”
“You know--”
“Everything.”
“Everything, meaning…?”
River’s smile grew a little wider. “Everything, as in everything. The Library. Trenzalore."
Meaning, Clara realised, that River wasn't dead. Or at least, not anymore.
Swallowing down a traitorous thought -how did she do that? when Danny didn't?- Clara finally managed to stammer out: “the Doctor-“
“Oh, he knows,” River said. “At least, the one I've come from does.” Her brows raised, the warning clear in her eyes. Clara nodded, understanding.
“I won't say anything,” she offered awkwardly. “Not that I'll see him anymore. But I won't say anything, even if I do. Which I won't; see him, that is.”
River nodded. “Thank you.”
“Why are you here?” A sudden thought occurred to Clara, painful and worrying.
“The Doctor. Is he-“
“He’s fine,” said River. She was still smiling, staring straight into Clara’s eyes; but somehow, Clara had the sense she was lying. Calmness was what mattered in a lie. Eye contact and acting as though you believed the things coming out your own mouth; but she didn’t work with children for nothing, and Clara prided herself that she was good at deciphering the meaning behind words.
“Then why are you here? I would have thought... if something was wrong with him, would you come get me?”
“Oh, I would.” River nodded. “But it’s not him. He – oh, you don’t believe me, do you?”
“Not even a little bit,” said Clara.
“He misses having you in his life,” River admitted. "But in a sense, that’s why I’m here. To see how you are.”
“Oh.” Clara plastered a smile on her face. “I’m fine. Good. Great, even. Just getting out of the house to do my daily shop, then going home, nothing interesting going on for me.” Her face was starting to hurt. Her voice was too high pitched, it did that when she was trying to seem normal and felt anything but.
“That’s a relief,” River said, “that you’re doing so well now that you’re not travelling in the TARDIS anymore." She watched Clara thoughtfully for a moment, before pushing her curls back and saying in a low voice: “You see, I know when this is for you.
“I know,” she went on, “about Missy. And Danny.”
It had been a month, but hearing Danny's name hurt. Clara blinked, swallowing hard.
“The Doctor talks a lot,” she finally managed to say.
“Never shuts up,” said River, tapping her fingers idly against the trolley handle. “Wouldn’t be the Doctor if he could keep his mouth shut.”
“Well, I'm fine,” Clara said firmly. “In fact, I'm great! And he's...” Her smile faltered; she pasted it back on. “He's fine, too?”
“Yes.” River looked amused. “He is. Clara, I know you must worry about the Doctor, but he'll be fine, even if you're not traveling with him. He just doesn’t like goodbyes; so he’ll grieve a bit longer for your memory and then he’ll be back out in the world. But it’ll help when I tell him how great you’re doing.
“That is the word you’d like me to use, isn’t it? Great?”
“Yes,” said Clara. “Great. I’m… great.”
“Well, then.” Her lips kept smiling, but there was something in River’s eyes that was like the Doctor. As though she could strip down your outsides and see right into what you were hiding in your soul. But after a moment she relaxed, looking far more cheerful. “That’s all I was wondering about. Nice to see you, and I’ll let you get back to your shopping.”
“Right, then. Good to see you too.”
She didn’t know why she stood there, staring at River’s back as she walked away. And she really didn’t know what made her call out to her.
“River?”
River stopped, turning slowly around.
“I’m not alright.” She was ashamed of the quaver in her voice and the tears that suddenly sprang into her eyes.
“No,” said River. "I didn’t think you were."
“I need... I just need...” Words were failing her. Clara squeezed her eyes shut, trying to force herself not to cry; but then there were arms around her and River's shoulder beneath her cheek as she pulled her into an embrace. It felt like it had been a long time since someone hugged her, letting her weep as they rubbed soothing circles on Clara's back. Clara cried until her sobs faded to sniffles, and River had produced one of the Doctor's own handkerchiefs for her to wipe her cheeks and blow her nose.
“Better?” River's eyes narrowed as she scrutinised Clara's face, clearly looking for something unsaid. Clara nodded, avoided looking straight at her, focussing her gaze on River's cheek.
“Yes. I'm sorry for all that. I'm fine, now.” She was trying to rally with a smile, painfully aware that the expression must be closer to a grimace than anything else. River sighed, her arm still around Clara's shoulder as she abandoned the cart and steered them out the supermarket, walking them back toward her flat.
“You're lying,” River said gently, as they walked together through the hot London sunshine. “I'm something of an expert at hiding the damage myself, Clara. But sometimes it helps to have a fresh perspective on a situation; and we've got a few minutes before we're back at your house. Why don't you tell me the rest of it? You're not just upset about losing Danny.”
Her voice was soothing, her manner so gentle that Clara didn't stop to think. For the first time in the last month she just spoke, the words spilling out of her heedlessly.
“What's really wrong is that it feels like I lost Danny twice. The first time, when the Doctor tried to help. But then after... he could have come back! The bracelet -Missy's bracelet - it could have brought him back to me. We could have tried again. But he decided not to. He said that he'd made a promise; and he sent me some child instead. I don't know his real name. I just call him Adam.”
“I see,” said River thoughtfully.
“I've thought about it,” Clara went on. “I don't know the full story, but I can guess. It's someone he must have known in Afghanistan. Someone who died, maybe because of him. And I want to help. I even want to like him - I usually like kids, and I'm good with them.
“But I can't...” She sighed. “I can't like him. He won't even talk to me; we just make signs at each other if we need to communicate. Most of the time he looks at me, looking so scared and lost and miserable that I can't take it.
“He doesn't want to be here. And to me, he feels like,” Clara took a deep breath, “he feels like Danny's revenge; that I didn't love him enough and that's why he didn't come back to me.”
“Revenge and love don't work quite like that,” said River calmly. Clara bit the inside of her cheek, realising that of everyone in the universe, River may have been one of the only person who could make a statement like that, making it sound completely normal.
Clara choked back something between a laugh and a sob. “Maybe not revenge, then? It's more like a test. He sent him back to test what I'd do; if I cared about his memory enough to try. Even though he had to know what he was asking for was impossible. I can't trace his family; and how could I send him back, anyway? It's been years and Adam hasn't aged!”
They had reached Clara's front door. River waited in thoughtful silence as Clara struggled with her keys, before finally taking them from her hand to open the door herself.
“If,” she said suddenly, “I knew of a place for him, would you want me to help?”
Clara stumbled in the doorway; River's hand immediately shot out to steady her.
“Do you know of a place?” Clara demanded.
River hesitated. “Yes, I think I might. A family, even if not the one he lost. But would you want that? For me to take him away. Danny trusted him to you.”
He had. But Clara couldn't shake the feeling that he'd done it for another reason. He had to have known she couldn't help... or maybe he had relied on her persuading the Doctor to drop the boy back in time.
But she wasn't traveling with the Doctor anymore. And she didn't know what else to do to help... So she raised her chin, looking River in the eyes.
“He trusted me to do what's right. And what I think is right is that the Doctor trusts you,” said Clara. “And so do I. Find a place for him.”