A/N: Hello wonderful readers! For the purposes of this fic, I assume the Day of the Doctor took place for Ten between Doomsday and Smith and Jones as is hinted by the dialogue and the chronology of events with Queen Elizabeth I.

Originally, I wrote the first part of story pretty much immediately after watching the Time of the Doctor as a knee jerk reaction. It took me till August to find an ending, and till now to get it edited and decide whether I wanted to post the story or not. So, wordy way to say that everything below pays no heed to any of what we know about canonical Season 8 and picks up immediately after the Time of the Doctor left off.


Arrêter: Part I


When her hand slipped on the zig-zag plotter, Clara looked up hastily, waiting to be chastised for being clumsy. Waiting to hear his voice – that voice – tell her to mind where her hands were going. To remind her that the TARDIS was very sensitive and that she ought to be more careful with her.

The reminder never came though, in that voice, or any other.

She didn't know this voice well enough to even imagine what it might say, or what it might sound like. All he'd manage to say so far was some comment about the colour of his kidneys, before asking desperately if she knew how to fly the TARDIS.

Of course she knew how to fly the TARDIS. Perhaps not smoothly, but she could do it.

He had taught her.

Throwing the final lever, she grasped the edges of the console as the TARDIS rocked and lurched again, although hopefully this time it would lead to a landing instead of another jolting jaunt through the Time Vortex. Chancing a glance over her shoulder, she saw him, the new man, the new Doctor. He was clinging to the railing just behind her, staring wide eyed up at the ceiling, as if he'd never seen the rotors spinning before. She tightened her grip as a sharp jerk almost sent her stumbling back into him.

On a different day, she might have let go, trusting him to catch her, or failing that, to pick her up again if she fell. To pull her back onto her feet and into his arms, possibly teasing gently about tripping, or, possibly expressing concern, with that overprotective tone, asking her if she was alright.

The landing thud rang around them far louder than usual, finally stilling the console room around them. Fearing that it wasn't really over, Clara didn't let go of her hold until a quiet, gentle metallic groan echoed around her. It was an odd sound, it was sympathetic… sad… but then, Clara knew she wasn't the only one who had just lost her – the Doctor.

A few shaky steps wrung off the metal floor behind her, and she finally released her grasp, knuckles white, and turned to look at him. This new man staggered a few more steps, side to side, not really seeming to have any particular destination. He scanned the room around him wildly, but almost fell over himself in the process, catching his balance only at the last second as Clara was already halfway to his aid. She stood straight and backed towards the console again when she was sure he wasn't going to fall.

"You can fly this thing, well, that's good then." He remarked offhandedly, voice a raspy growl that by all rights should have chafed his throat on the way out, since it certainly grated on Clara.

For a moment, she considered saying that she'd had a good teacher, but those words just didn't want to come out right now. "Yes, I can." She told him simply, emptily. Not enough words to trip over, or to catch in her throat, but enough to get the point across.

He nodded his head a few times; mouth opening and closing it again each time. His eyes narrowed and his attention seemed to focus on his own face. His neck stretched out at an odd angle, and a second later, so did his tongue. "This mouth is very strange. My words have an odd lilt." He told her, but with his tongue hanging out, this statement didn't do much to help her learn his new voice. While she was trying to think of something to say to him, he cringed into a rigid stance, hands flying to his two hearts. Clara leapt towards him, worried about what else could possibly be going wrong at this point. He held a hand out to stop her, though, before stumbling backwards, dumping himself into one of the chairs.

"Too much. Time to rest now." He tumbled out. Before Clara could react, his whole body went limp, and his eyes snapped shut.

She stared at him, her eyes probably as wide as his had been when they were in flight. What was she supposed to do now? Crossing her arms, she tip-toed closer to him. He was still breathing, and he didn't appear to be in any discomfort.

The snores that started seconds later confirmed it: he had fallen asleep.

Just like that, he had dropped down for a nap on her.

Clara closed her eyes, and took a few deep – if strained – breaths, trying to clear her head. She didn't know where they were. She hadn't exactly given the TARDIS a destination – she'd just been desperate to put them down somewhere so they could sort this mess out somehow. Exactly how she thought they would sort things out? That she wasn't quite sure of. The sting at the back of her eyes alerted her that tears were threatening to escape despite her attempts to calm herself. Having to land the distraught TARDIS had distracted her enough to stop them before. She needed something to do again, something to focus on. They certainly weren't back at her flat, so she needed to keep her head. She didn't trust this him. She didn't know anything about the man yet.

But truthfully, she wasn't entirely sure if she trusted that him right now, either.

That admission made the need to divert herself more urgent, so she decided opening the doors was as good a way as any to figure out where they'd ended up.

It was a start at least.

She wrapped her arms around herself protectively again, sneaking one hand out to grab the door handle. As the door swung open on groaning hinges, a man leapt out of the way, hand suspended in the air as if he'd been about to knock.

"Hello, Clara." He said to her joyfully, a brilliant grin on his face. This Doctor's suit fit as perfectly as she remembered and his hands were now hanging in the pockets of his trench coat contently.

"No. No, no…" She stuttered quickly, taking a step back from the door. The world seemed to shrink around her, narrowing to only her racing heart and a fight to get oxygen into her lungs.

"Clara? What's wrong?" He asked quickly, following her as far as the TARDIS doors. He stopped there, hands coming up to hold either side of the doorway. As much as his concern was apparent, he was still respecting her space, acknowledging the fact that she had backed away from him.

"I… I can't do this right now." She choked out, turning her head as some of those threatening tears from before spilled down her cheek.

"What's happened?" He asked quietly, the expression on his face softening, expressive eyebrows knitting into worry. He leaned against one side of the TARDIS door, looking at her, silently asking if he was allowed in.

"Why are you here?" She managed to ask him, still turning her face away from him. The words came in her voice, but she felt as if someone else had asked them.

"You remember, don't you?" He inquired gently. "To freeze Gallifrey, we need to round up more of us – err… me?" He raked a hand through his hair briefly, momentarily lost in thought. "Well, to you two we needed to round up more of… me… but, to me we need to round up more of… well… me…"

"I remember."

"Clara–"

"He isn't any good to you right now, come back sometime later." She closed her eyes, adding without quite meaning to, "He isn't any good to anyone right now."

"I'm not worried about me – him, right now." The Doctor said as he walked into the TARDIS, approaching her with caution as she took another step back.

"Clara, look at me, please?"

She didn't look up, but she felt his hand settle on her shoulder, before sliding down her arm and taking a gentle hold onto her elbow. She hadn't realized there were faint tremors running through her body until he was tenderly steadying her.

"It's just happened, hasn't it? He– I..? Whatever, you just saw him regenerate, didn't you?"

She flicked her eyes to him; seeing this Doctor's gaze focused on the man slumped in a chair around the console. The new Doctor was still snoring, louder in fact than he had been before.

"Yes."

His attention settled onto her before she could drop her eyes again, and he immediately fixed onto the tears slipping down her face. She bit her lip, tensing under the still gentle pressure at her elbow.

The Doctor sighed softly, and pulled her into him, wrapping her into a tight hug. At first, she wasn't sure if that was what she wanted.

She was hurt.

She was angry.

She was just so… so tired, so spent.

This him was almost the same height as that him had been, so she fit against him in a similar manner. That thought wasn't a comfort at the moment. She took a deep breath that escaped her as more of a sob than an exhale, which did nothing to loosen his hold on her.

"This has to be tampering with… timelines… or something." She tried to rationalize to him as her heart began to ease to a less frantic rhythm and her thoughts, and words, came easier.

"That isn't what I'm worried about right now, but, if it makes you feel better, the time streams are out of sync, so I'm probably not going to be able to retain any of this." He told her. The words haunted her, as his voice echoed in her head, the memory as clear as if he was standing beside her.

The time streams are out of sync. You can't retain it, no.

He took a step back, hands settling on her shoulders as he did a once over of her quickly.

"Are you okay? Were you hurt at all?"

"He didn't… he didn't get killed… so to speak… there wasn't any real danger, in the end." She said carefully. Try as she might, she couldn't connect the man holding her now to the one in the chair, or the person he'd been before that.

"I didn't ask about him, I asked about you." He insisted.

She opened her mouth, but shut it again quickly, instead looking at his eyes, his big sad eyes. She couldn't lie to him, he could see that she wasn't okay by simply looking at her face, she knew that. But, she also didn't know how to tell him she wasn't okay, or how she wasn't okay.

He nodded slightly, seeming to understand what she meant without using words. He slid a hand down to find her hand, twining fingers through hers and leading her towards the door.

"How bout we go for a walk then? Get you some air. It's a lovely day out."

She pulled him to a halt, a sense of terror shooting through her veins at the prospect of walking out that door again.

"I can't leave the TARDIS." She told him quickly.

"Clara, he isn't going anywhere for quite a while. Regeneration… it's tough, quite a shock to the system, I don't think I'll – he'll – be up to going anywhere anytime soon." He told her tentatively, casting another look at the snoring figure.

"I didn't mean I can't leave him," she admitted.

This freshly minted Doctor didn't seem to know how to fly his own ship, but if he woke up? Who knew…

He had sent her away.

Twice.

"If I leave, I'm…the TARDIS might not still be here when I come back."

The Doctor gave her an incredulous look, a greater understanding seeming to light his eyes, though he didn't press her.

"Well, I happen to have my TARDIS parked a few streets over. So, that happens, I'll take you home, or wherever you need to go myself." He promised. A finger found its way under her chin, raising her face to look at him. "If you don't mind my grunge phase that is." He added with a wink. She offered him a small smile, which made him beam at her again.

"Right then, Clara Oswald, may I introduce you… to Amsterdam!" He said warmly, sweeping the doors open for her.