Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Author Note: Contains dialogue from the Eleventh Doctor episode 'Nightmare In Silver' and continues after the episode.
(Temporary) Queen Of The Universe
"You, stay out of it. This is between me and the Emperor."
The Doctor, amazingly, actually backed off and Clare was faced with Porridge, eager and kind and with the weight of a thousand galaxies on his shoulders. A thousand galaxies...Clare tried to imagining millions of different planets, all those unique worlds. She thought about her travel book, the one with her age tapering down the front. She rubbed a finger against her Mum's ring.
"Porridge, I don't want to rule a thousand galaxies."
His face fell, filled with understanding and resignation. Clara's mind was still stuck on travel, which led her to her arrangement with the Doctor and all those galaxies and when would she ever have this opportunity again? Well, he did have a time machine…
"But I'd like to visit some, if that's okay?"
The Doctor jerked around, shocked, and Angie crowed that Clara definitely had the right idea, Queen of the universe! Clara smiled at Porridge's expression; he looked a little blown away.
"It's not permanent; I just…I want to travel and you've got a thousand galaxies at your disposal..." Clara smiled before sitting up a little straighter. "On the condition that I can leave whenever I want."
Porridge was looking at her in wonder and his smile was blinding. It made Clara want to smile too. "You have my word as Emperor."
Clara wrinkled her nose. "I'd rather have your word as Porridge."
If it was possible, Porridge's smile widened. "All right then, my word as Porridge."
They shook hands firmly and Clara turned back to Angie and Artie. God, she'd have to find someone to take over her job for a few months. Angie rolled her eyes, clearly reading Clara's worry.
"There's agencies, Clara. Queen of the universe!"
Clara shook her head, already mentally compiling a list of people who might be able to help out. "And don't you forget it. I'm taking a holiday; you're not getting rid of me that easily."
Artie looked happy about that and something tugged at the corner of Angie's mouth to suggest that she wasn't unhappy about it either. Clara turned back to the Doctor who looked like he was suppressing a lot of words. She held out her phone expectantly.
He crossed his arms, as petulant as Angie. Clara waggled the phone at him. "Come on...You do want to see me again, don't you?"
The Doctor glanced at her out of the corner of his eye before darting over to snatch the phone and input a number. "The TARDIS isn't a taxi service."
Clara cocked her head as though thinking about it. "Yeah, that would be ridiculous. You do it for free, after all."
The Doctor made an outraged noise and was distracted enough for Clara to retrieve her phone from his grasp and check that, yes, he'd actually put a number in. A number for the TARDIS taxi. A lick of excitement threaded through her. Clara Oswald was going travelling, on her own terms.
"Answer when I call," she told him severely, pointing the phone in his direction. "I don't care what you're running from, you answer. Now then, paper."
The Doctor looked flummoxed. "Paper...?"
"I can't leave Angie and Artie without any mature supervision, and you definitely don't count. Paper."
The Doctor handed over a sheet of something and a stubby pencil, which Clara used to scribble down several numbers – people in the area who she knew had decent nanny experience and the right sort of attitude, and a couple of agencies that she'd considered joining. Angie took the paper with bad grace but hugged Clara, Artie hugging her with more enthusiasm. Clara closed her eyes, a break would be good, for all of them, but she was going to miss the kids.
As Angie and Artie rushed off towards the TARDIS, a couple of guards willing to keep them company, the Doctor loitered awkwardly. Clara smiled.
"Save me a seat in the space taxi."
The Doctor pouted and looked as though he was trying to think of a way to bodily get her into the TARDIS, but looking at her expression, seemed to think better of it before patting her on the shoulder instead.
"Yes, well, a holiday's always fun, isn't it? I mean, I think so; mine are always full of people telling me I'm stepping on the wrong grass or wanting me to take a look at a lot of prisons. Really, I can't think why that keeps happening."
Clara raised an eyebrow. It would be nice to have a holiday where running for your life wasn't on the menu. The Doctor patted her other shoulder, then shoved his hands in his pockets.
"Yes, so, call anytime. Oh! I don't get any reception in the Cordan Quadrant. But you can leave a message and ah ha! There, even if I don't answer, press the star and hash keys together and the TARDIS will lock onto you and get me there quickly. She does like her strays."
"Oh, well, that explains a lot."
Clara shot him a pointed look, which the Doctor returned with a twist of a peeved mouth before taking a few steps towards the doorway. He looked worried and restless and…something else that was always present in his expression whenever he looked at Clara. It'd be nice to have a break from that too.
"Doctor, I'll be fine." There was slightly nervous excitement gusting through her, but she shrugged a shoulder and twitched her head towards Porridge. "I'm with the Emperor."
"Can we talk privately, Porridge? Only there's something you should probably know before we get home to your…palace?"
"Of course, here. We're in a soundproof bubble now; it extends over my seat and plinth. Don't worry, they're used to it. They're just glad I haven't run away again. Are you okay? Not regretting anything?"
"No regrets yet, and if I have any, you'll be the first to know. It's just that…well, you know the Doctor's box? The one he travels in? It doesn't just travel in space…"
"…It didn't look advanced enough to have a dimension jump…"
"Can't help you there. It's more of a time issue. So, I'm really not going to have a clue about how to address people or what not to eat, so could you give me some tips? So that I don't embarrass you during your big return?"
Porridge was very understanding. He got immediately why Clara wanted to keep her time issue secret – even in his era, time travel was something very carefully meted out because of all the possible paradoxes - so he spent the rest of the journey explaining a little about how to act so that she wouldn't get into trouble. It sounded simple enough and since Porridge himself spent most of his time trying to escape his duties, Clara suspected that she might have a little leeway.
"Should I change?" she wondered aloud, turning to Porridge with a sudden start. "I mean, is this okay for wherever we're going?"
Porridge smiled. "You look lovely, but if you like there's a bathroom a few rooms over. Gloria can show you, can't you, Gloria?"
Gloria left her station with a nod and showed Clara how to use the strange air-water showers and how to properly manipulate the fresh clothes stored there. It wasn't camouflage like the soldiers or the dark armour that Gloria herself wore. Instead, there was a dark silk thing, sort of like a dress, but there were trousers involved too. It was very comfortable despite being fitted and was covered in strange little symbols around the edge. It made her stand up a little straighter. It made her look like she belonged on the ship.
She tucked her other clothes into a bag and fastened her hair up. Her reflection grinned giddily back at her. She was going to visit a space Emperor's palace. All right then.
There were a lot of people waiting to see Porridge – who'd refused to change into more regal clothing, though he had taken his hat off to reveal scruffy golden-brown hair. Clara grinned at him as they were about to be transmatted down. He was already stiffening up in preparation for becoming the Emperor once more. She could see the resignation in his eyes, so she nudged him gently.
"You're not alone, Porridge."
His eyes were full of gratitude, even as he lifted his chin. "Thank you, Clara."
Once they were beamed down, the crowds cheered and Clara might have waved a little. Wow, that was a lot of people! And was that a couple of suns just above the horizon?! It was an amazing rainbow of colours too, except for the small group right at the front on a raised platform. They all wore dark colours like the ship's staff. Clara glanced at them carefully; most of them looked pretty serious. She could already see why Porridge might want to keep having a holiday.
Porridge was greeting the group now, accepting their bows before gesturing to Clara. "This is Clara Oswald, friend and advisor. She'll be by my side for several cycles and under my protection. Make it known."
Clara smiled a little at the group, very aware of the gold commander's badge pinned to her dress. She'd wondered if it was right to wear it but Porridge had insisted that she'd earned it. She was glad to be wearing it when facing those penetrative gazes.
"Clara?" Porridge was holding out a hand to her. "Time for dinner, I think."
The group were making noises about all the important decisions that the Emperor needed to make now that he was back. Clara envisioned piles of paperwork – the downside to being Emperor, all those decisions. Her stomach rumbled, just a little bit.
Porridge definitely had the right idea. "Dinner it is," she agreed, taking his hand. His grip was cool and firm.
Dinner turned out to be some sort of meat in sauce that tasted really good. Porridge explained to her in an undertone how to get the wing free and scrape the meat off. He winked at her when she finally got her first wing right after her third attempt and he didn't miss a beat of the political conversation. He might not have enjoyed life as Emperor, but he was clearly good at it.
Clara smiled to herself and tried the wine. Porridge had warned her that it could be pretty potent, depending on what vintage was served. After several sips, it was already making her head feel a bit spinny. Meanwhile Porridge raised an issue that he and Clara had worked on while hurtling towards his home. Porridge was going to take a tour of some of the worlds he ruled over. He hadn't done so for a while, and yes, he'd take guards with him, he'd always be contactable for any matters of state and wouldn't his subjects be pleased to see him, since the stories surrounding his disappearance were so wild?
One of his council, a thin reedy man with ash-blonde hair that curled over his forehead, was looking at Clara very thoroughly. Clara felt her skin prickle in response. She very pointedly didn't look at him for the rest of the meal; otherwise she might have thrown something.
Porridge personally escorted her to her guest quarters; they were next door to his and were the same pale gold as his pyramid-like seat on the spaceship. It was only a little over the top and the bed was massive and comfy. Porridge pointed out the personal data screen – for Clara to catch up on any news – and made sure she knew that security were on hand to help her at any moment. His gaze lingered on the shiny little bauble embedded in the wall as part of a swishy expansive design. A camera? Clara was definitely changing under the covers.
"Thank you, sir," she briefly but sharply saluted him, a grin playing with her lips. "You've been very kind."
She didn't say that the whole 'camera in the bedroom' was not only creepy but more than a little pervy. It'd be a bad idea to say that when you were actually on camera, but yeah, it was a conversation they were definitely going to have later when privacy was possible. Porridge nodded.
"I'll have Gloria raise you for breakfast," was what he exited with.
Clara briefly considered covering the camera, but then that was pretty much textbook suspicious behaviour and who was to say that that was the only one? The staff had probably been very busy in the Emperor's absence. Instead, she rifled through her bag of clothes which somebody had kindly delivered and let down her hair.
Determinedly turning her back on the camera, Clara worked out how to use the data screen and flicked through stories about the Emperor's return and his 'intriguing escort.' God, the twenty-four hours news cycle had survived clearly. Shoving those stories away, Clara focused on learning more about the planet Porridge lived on. She wanted to have an idea of what she was dealing with.
She read well into the night and looked out of the window to see a vista of stars. She wondered which one was home.