A/N: So. This popped into my head and I had to get it out. If you're coming from TLOKKS, don't worry; I will get back to it eventually, so please be patient with me. I felt an urgent need to write this, though, so here it is.
Anyways, some info on me: I'm a devoted Whovian, and I absolutely love series 9 so far. I personally think that Peter Capaldi and Jenna Coleman are a splendid Doctor-companion team, and I love both of their characters individually as well. Clara was the first companion I ever saw with the Doctor, too - my first episode was the 50th anniversary special - so she holds a very special place in my heart, and even after watching most of NuWho and growing to love the other companions, Clara remains my favourite. However, as a writer and a fan of the show, I think, as do the show's writers from the looks of things (although Jenna Coleman's departure dictates some kind of exit for Clara, regardless), that it is her time to go, and by go, I mean die.
Clara has overstepped her role as the companion; she's lost a lot of her sense of self-preservation and has become reckless as opposed to simply brave. On top of that, I think she feels a kind of misguided invulnerability. She has taken on a slightly modified version of the Doctor's role in addition to her own as his companion, and this without taking into account a crucial detail: she is not a Time Lady. She is human. And humans do not have regeneration cycles to fall back on when they land themselves in mortal peril. Not only that, but while Clara is brilliant, again, she is not the Doctor; she does not have the same mental capacity that he does to get herself out of a tricky situation, stunningly clever though she may be.
I think she's going to try to do too much, and that it'll come back to bite her - hard. Most people who watch the show would agree with me when I say that there is a growing sense of foreboding surrounding our lovely Impossible Girl, and there have been plenty of hints and foreshadowing around her departure (in whatever form it may come). I mean, for goodness' sake, the 10th episode of the series is called "Face the Raven". I think that's fairly telling. There is a slight possibility that we're all being duped, but somehow, I don't think so, and to boot, I really hope not. As much as I adore Clara, I think that for her storyline to be done justice, she needs to die.
With that in mind, I wrote this piece, because I think the Doctor knows that something is coming for Clara, and that it's not good. This is inspired by a YouTube fan video called "The Doctor & Clara - Where is My Mind" on the Doctor Who Hub channel. Without further ado, read on. I hope you enjoy the piece.
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"Well don't worry, daft, old man. I'm not going anywhere."
Clara's words sounded in the Doctor's mind, playful and supposedly soothing, entwining themselves with another, less comforting assurance.
"She'll die on you, you know. She'll blow away like smoke."
Ashildr's bitter utterance haunted the Doctor, as did the woman herself. She was one of his greatest mistakes, made in a fit of Time-Lord-Victorious-like arrogance, in a wave of the kind of misguided euphoria that comes with possibility.
A hybrid, robbed of her own humanity by a Mire chip, the centuries that followed its installation, and the one who installed it in the first place.
Ashildr, whose pain at losing those whom she loved drove her to self-isolation, to rely on herself as her only companion. She became Lady Me, her own imaginary friend in a sense, a comrade to combat the loneliness. Me was a persona, a mask not unlike the one Ashildr wore as the Knightmare.
And yes, he still called her Ashildr. Whether she liked it or not, the Doctor would always insist, would always remind her: Ashildr, not Me. He owed her that much, at least.
Immortal and forced to live time linearly where the Doctor got to run away in his big, blue box and travel the stars, she'd hardened around the edges, learned far too much, and waited far too long.
She'd seen Death, and she had learned to sense when it was near.
"How many have you lost, how many Claras?" she'd asked him.
If only she knew. How many Claras, indeed.
His brave, little Impossible Girl. Well, little on the outside; so much bigger on the inside. Clara Oswald.
She was another one who'd changed. They always did. She'd kept the kindness, the curiosity, the cleverness, the control-freakishness, and the courage, but they were tempered now. Recklessness, arrogance, and pragmatism had grown within her over time, qualities that she had adapted from him. The Doctor hated himself for that, for the way that he'd changed her. She was more now, yes, but she'd also been robbed of so much. She could never go back, could never live a normal, human life again.
Her thrill for adventure and adrenaline had taken a turn, had been twisted and warped into something dangerous, something that was leading someplace that the Doctor dreaded. He couldn't shake the feeling that something terrible was coming for his beloved companion.
And it was his fault.
Every time he heard her warm voice, Blackpool accent and all, every time he looked into those impossibly large and expressive eyes of hers, every time they were separated on an adventure, he could hear Time ticking away, warning him.
Not today, it kept singing, but soon, Doctor. Cherish her while you can.
He tried to deny it, to bury his head in the sand, but something he'd said to Clara about Ashildr kept echoing in the back of his mind, lingering like a specter.
"People talk about premonition as if it's something strange. It's not; it's just remembering in the wrong direction."