You cannot convince me that Peter Capaldi or Jenna Coleman or Michelle Gomez or Samuel Anderson are awful actors, 'cause I think we all know from DIH that they're SUPER talented. That episode was an emotional roller-coaster. The "oh, my God, I feel like I'm killing you!" line from Clara made me weep. NO, CLARA, BABY NO, LEMME HUG YOU. Or the Doctor breaking down when realizing that the Master (or Missy, whatever,) lied to him AGAIN?! Don't even touch me. I can't even. I'm emotionally scarred. And then there was that entire thing where the Doctor and Clara LIED TO EACH OTHER. WHAT. WHAT. WHAT. WHY. WHY. NO. MY BABIES. NO. SAY YOU LOVE HER. SAY YOU LOVE HIM. SAY YOU WANT TO TRAVEL TOGETHER FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIVES.
...and that, my dears, was how this story was born. Enjoy!
Liars
Clara Oswald didn't think she'd hear the TARDIS engines go off in her bedroom again. It was an odd feeling, too – she had just gotten used to not having to walk around the blue police box. (It wasn't a good feeling, but Clara finally managed to get around it.) She never thought she'd feel her heart leap so quickly when hearing that sound, either.
"He's back," she whispered to herself and propping herself up on her elbows, watched with a small smile as the TARDIS materialized in the room. Clara pushed herself up into her pillows and wrapping her covers around her shoulders, stared as the door slowly pushed open.
"Doctor," Clara instantly greeted.
Sure enough, the Doctor's tall, spindly figure stood in the TARDIS entrance. His arms were folded over his chest, his eyes already fixed on Clara's face. The two stared at each other in silence, as though they were both wondering what to say next. Then, clearing his throat, the Doctor said, "I thought you'd be asleep."
Bringing her knees to her chest, Clara managed to crack a small smile. "I'm going to pretend you didn't say that," she murmured weakly. She gestured halfheartedly at the Doctor. "So."
"So," the Doctor replied with a small bob of his head.
"Three months," Clara pointed out. "Three months since I've actually seen you."
"Three months," the Doctor agreed. He pressed his lips together into a tight smile. He scanned his eyes around the bedroom. "Wasn't quite sure you'd still be here; I was pretty sure that you were going to move out with P.E. into a bigger place."
Clara felt her throat constrict at the mention of Danny. Three months, and Clara still felt numb from most of it. She could still see his face – his pained and saddened eyes. She could still hear his voice; hear his laugh in places she didn't want it to be. Clara could still feel it all. God, it killed her inside.
She flicked her eyes at the window. "So, how've you been?" she asked, forcing her voice to take on a more cheerful tone. "Gallifrey, yeah? Have you become the king yet? Or queen?" She picked at the blankets. "Have you…settled down? Made Gallifrey a better place?"
"I've been…fine." The Doctor replied. He drummed his fingers against his legs and then asked, "And how are you?"
"Good," Clara responded. She tugged at a strand of hair and standing up, mumbled, "Danny's not here right now, if you're wondering."
"I wasn't," the Doctor replied. He paused and then, actually cringing, said, "I mean – is he…doing well, too?"
"Yeah," Clara managed to say. She could feel a large lump swelling up in her throat now. It burned inside, making it painful to swallow around it. "He's doing great." Clara couldn't help it in the end. Her voice cracked. She looked down at her covers, and taking in a shuddery breath, said, "He's really happy now. I think everything's going just…fine." Feeling tears sting her eyes, Clara buried her face into her blankets. She stammered out a small sob, and then suddenly, a pair of hands was gently placed over her shoulders.
"Clara?" she heard the Doctor ask, bewildered. "Why're you crying?"
It took a few minutes for Clara to respond properly. Each time she tried to respond, another fresh wave of tears would wash over her. The Doctor didn't press for Clara to answer quickly, either. In the end, she simply pressed herself against the Doctor and cried out, "He's dead."
Clara could just feel the Doctor frowning down at her. "P.E.?" he asked slowly. "But you said –"
"I know what I said," Clara whispered. She tried pushing herself away from the Doctor, but he held fast. Clara looked up at him tearfully. She saw herself in his eyes – pitiful, weepy, pained. God. And she thought she was done with this. "I'm sorry," she managed to say, closing her eyes. "I lied. I lied, Doctor, and you were going to go to Gallifrey and –"
"I lied, too," the Doctor interrupted abruptly.
Clara's eyes snapped open. Lips parting slightly, she breathed out, "What?"
The Doctor nodded, and for the first time in a while, Clara saw a deep, tired sadness well in his eyes. He bobbed his head at the TARDIS and murmured, "I entered the coordinates and actually, I didn't find Gallifrey. It was…another lie." His eyes lowered to the bedspread. Clara felt her heart drop. She knew how much finding Gallifrey meant to the Doctor; it was one of the reasons why she had lied to him in the first place.
"I'm…so sorry," Clara said quietly. Hesitantly, Clara lifted her hand to touch the Doctor's face. He didn't flinch away. She bit down on her lip and added, "You could have told me."
"I thought you were with Danny." The Doctor laughed weakly. "Wouldn't be good now, would it? Having to take care of an old man and juggle a life –" He stopped. He looked down at Clara and mumbled, "Sorry. Nothing to really be laughing about."
Clara cleared her throat. She gave him a sad smile and responded, "At least your bedside manner is improving." She started to let her hand drop, but to her surprise, the Doctor caught it and brought it back to his cheek. "I'm sorry," the Doctor repeated. He shifted his gaze to her hand and not meeting her eyes, murmured, "I just needed to see you."
Clara tilted her head, her smile fading. With a sigh, she rested her chin over the Doctor's shoulder. "I needed to see you, too," she replied softly. She felt the Doctor lean forward; his head nestled lightly into her own shoulder. Clara wrapped an arm around the Doctor's torso. She let out a small sigh, closing her eyes.
She missed this. She really did.
Clara was glad that the Doctor was back – not so glad about the circumstances that brought him here, but definitely better about the fact that she was with him again.
"Hey," she whispered after a few moments of silence.
"Yes?"
Clara lifted her head and looking out the window, said with a smile, "We're hugging. Broke the tradition again." Clara could almost hear a grin in the Doctor's voice as he replied quietly, "We are, I suppose."
"So…are we going back to the tradition after this?" Clara asked lightly, tracing a hand over his back. The Doctor shifted his head over her shoulder and then, after another beat of quiet, replied, "I think we might." Clara could only roll her eyes. "Still the same Doctor," she murmured.
"Still the same," the Doctor agreed. Clara felt him emit a small sigh. "But I think it wouldn't hurt to carry out this…moment a bit longer."
A wide smile took over Clara's lips. "I'm perfectly fine with that," she said sincerely.
A/N - I suppose this was pretty short, but I just needed to write something after watching DIH. And I was kind of still crying whilst writing this because MY HEART STILL HURT. AND THE DOCTOR AND CLARA HUGGING AT THE END OF THE EPISODE. JUST KILL ME NOW, PLEASE. SANTA CLAUSE BETTER BRING CLARA AND THE DOCTOR TOGETHER FOR CHRISTMAS! AND CLARA BETTER STAY WITH THE DOCTOR, OR ELSE I'M GONNA DIE FROM ALL THESE DANG FEELS. (For once, BBC, I'd like a happy Christmas, thank you very much!)
Anyways. Reviews are always welcome! Constructive criticism is tolerated, but flames are not!