Does your heart ever stutter?
Stuck for a moment between a strong beat and a weaker one, does it ever linger too long? Your chest heaves to catch up. Your vision blurs - only for a second. You forget what's around you.
Clara Oswald was stuck between two heartbeats. Instead of a stutter, it as a void. A stretch of nothing, an emptiness in her chest. A cavity collecting dust.
Heartbeats were irreplaceable. Unnoticed by the living. Missed by the dead.
Clara was dead in every sense of the word. Yes, she could feel, she could walk, talk, think freely. But she couldn't age, she couldn't bleed, couldn't change. She was, quite literally, frozen in time.
It was the Doctor's solution to heal his broken heart. He had temporarily saved her from her inevitable fate, but she was a marked woman. The unyielding tattoo on the back of her neck branded her as property of the raven, the Quantum Shade from Trap Street. All paths led to Gallifrey, to the Extraction Chamber, to her very last heartbeat. She was taking the long way round.
Whether intentional or not, Clara was never sure, but the Doctor had left her with a companion and the TARDIS. She'd been travelling the stars with Ashildr, Lady Me, or 'Ash' as Clara had renamed her. They didn't know how to travel too far yet, they'd only been exploring starboard of the sun, but they were working on it. In between saving planets, of course.
She had the life had with the Doctor, only this time, she travelled with a little less heart and the last ticks of her soul.
"More tea, Miss Clara?"
"That would be lovely, thanks Jenny."
She watched the steam rise from her teacup. A trickle of liquid ran down the side. Once again, Clara was overwhelmed with a feeling of dread.
Lately, she and Ashildr had been visiting Vastra, Jenny and Strax. Clara found them comforting in their strange familiarity. She felt closer to the Doctor when they were around. As it happened, Ashildr knew of Madame Vastra, too. They'd met once before while chasing a copycat killer of Jack the Ripper. It was a topic neither lizard nor immortal wanted to broach again.
"What's wrong?"
Clara closed her hands around the mug. As she looked up at Jenny, she could see the gentle pulse of a heartbeat under her collar. Her dark eyes, so inquisitive, were gleaming in the half-light of the day. Clara felt her stomach clench; she had the distinct feeling that her own eyes had lost some of that fervour. The twinkle of mortality.
"I'm overthinking, that's all," Clara said with a small shake of her head. "We've stayed here too long. We should probably get going."
Jenny smiled. "You can stay here as long as you want, you know. There's always a room for you. Don't feel like you have to run off anytime you get too comfortable."
Clara took a long sip to delay a reply. There was a clatter from inside the kitchen and both women spun around. Strax stood at the threshold, one large foot stuck in a bucket and a mop attached to his head.
"Strax? What happened?"
"Miss Me didn't appreciate my attempts to remove her helmet," said Strax, clearly affronted.
Clara suppressed a laugh. "It's not a helmet, Strax, it's her new haircut."
"Oh." the Sontaran's face dropped. "That's what it was. Not to worry, Madame Vastra asked me to deliver a message."
"Go on, then," Jenny prompted.
"She would like to see Miss Clara in her study immediately, about a secret and confidential matter. It is important that I don't reveal what the secret and confidential matter is, as that would be a strategic weakness." He lowered his head and smiled. "But between you and me, boy, I believe it's something to do with what Miss Jenny and Madame Vastra have been whispering about all week."
He stared while wearing a grim smile like he knew he'd done a good job. Clara met Jenny's eyes as the human flushed. She got to her feet and ran over to Strax, shooing him from the room.
"Did I say something? I promised not to mention grenades!"
Clara took her time finishing the tea. When Jenny returned, she brushed herself down and returned her nervous smile.
"Clara - "
"It's okay, Jenny," Clara conceded. "We all have our secrets."
She left her in the kitchen feeling oddly muted about the turn of events. In truth, Clara had suspected something was off since she and Ashildr returned to the gang. The pointed glances between Vastra and Jenny hadn't gone unnoticed - Clara was queen of pointed glances. It was how she and the Doctor had communicated.
Vastra's study door was ajar. Clara was barely at the top of the stairs when she heard a velvety voice call;
"Come in, Clara."
Vastra's study hadn't changed much since her last visit, despite the fact Clara knew it had been a few years since she'd visited. Paintings of the female form decorated the walls and lavish gold curtains dimmed the light from the windows. Pots of exotics plants were placed at intermittent spaces around the room, and altogether, the air was thick and sickly sweet due to the increased humidity. Vastra, all in black and without her veil, was the main feature. Her scaled green skin glowed against the dark colours. Her blue eyes watched with great interest and a slither of deduction.
"Please, sit."
Clara sat at the edge of the woven chair. If their one-on-one conversations were anything to go by, she was sure to be out of it in a flash, reciting another righteous self-defence. She braced herself for the impact.
"I always enjoy your visits."
"As do I. They make me feel - well, human again."
Vastra smiled. "Red wine?"
Clara could eat and drink, although in her frozen state, she preferred not to. This time, however, she accepted the glass goblet with a small word of thanks. Alcohol had no longer any effect on her - she merely wanted something to hold on to.
"Is Jenny not joining us? Or Ashildr?"
"No. This has to be between us. Jenny knows some of it but it's best if we kept this between ourselves. Do you understand?"
With her thumb pressed into the cold glass, Clara bit her tongue and didn't comment. After everything that had happened, Vastra still talked to her like she was a beginner. She wasn't sure if it irked her or if she appreciated her honesty.
Vastra's eyes narrowed slightly. Her hands crossed on her lap.
"The Quantum Shade."
Clara flinched. She opened her mouth and closed it again. Vastra observed her with keen interest. She persisted. "Tell me, Clara, what you know of Quantum Shades."
"Has this something to do with the Doctor?" Clara quirked.
Vastra remained tight-lipped. Clara proceeded with caution. "I don't know much. The Doctor said they were a spirit, is that right? A spirit that harvests..." the words caught her throat. "A spirit that harvests souls."
The lizard woman watched Clara struggle with the bitter-tasting truth. She nodded and considered it for a moment. Despite her harsh exterior, Vastra cared about Clara. She worried for the girl's future. Whatever she was about to say next would sound cold, it would be a tough pill to take, but it needed to be said.
"Quantum Shades exist as parasites of time. As an entity, they feed off existence; memories, thoughts, feelings, experiences - in other words, the energy of life, the thing we call a soul. They are both the master and the servant. They have no physical body, which is why they take the shape of animals. They are the essence of time, the particles of the sphere. They can be anywhere at anytime. As an entity, they are powerful, but they are at their most influential when tied to a host. This is what happened with Miss Me, I believe. In return for souls, the Quantum Shade executed trouble-makers in Trap Street. Are you following me so far?"
"Yes," said Clara. "But why are you telling me this now?"
"As parasites of time itself, Quantum Shades are committed to the contracts they broker with hosts. Just as one cannot avoid the passing of time, or the laws of the universe, no one can cheat their way out of a Quantum Shade's chronolock." Vastra paused with her head bowed. "I say this because no one has ever successfully cheated a chronolock. No one except you."
Clara shook her head. "I haven't cheated anything. My time us up, I die on Trap Street. You can see it on the back of my neck. How - "
"Yet here you are. You're sitting in front of me with three zeros tattooed on your skin, as clear as day. This is unwarranted extra time. This is cheating."
"This wasn't my choice," Clara argued, sitting back in her chair.
"Being taken out of time through an Extraction Chamber wasn't your choice, no," said Vastra. "But being here today is. Every extra day you live is your choice. The Doctor created the cause, but you're creating the effect."
Clara's eyes started to water; she didn't know why. She didn't feel upset. She wasn't scared. There was something about this conversation, a topic she had mused over internally for too long, that panicked her when it was discussed in the open. Ashildr had never dared broach the subject - guilt, Clara assumed. This is what she wanted, wasn't it? For someone to talk sense into her, for someone to remind her of her inescapable fate?
Some common sense, at last.
"I'm going back to Gallifirey, Madame Vastra. As soon as I work out how to fly the TARDIS to the end of the universe. I made a promise and I'm not going to break it."
"That's not what I'm saying, Miss Oswald. Forgive me, I don't think I've made myself very clear."
Clara blinked to clear her vision. "Sorry, what?"
Vastra repositioned herself in her seat. She leaned across the table, hissing in a hushed tone; "There have been... disturbances."
"Disturbances?"
"With the Quantum Shades. They know what the Doctor has done."
With a croak in her voice, Clara shifted closer to the desk. "But I die - the Doctor watched me die. The contract is fulfilled - eventually. What does it matter?"
"They're now aware of the breach in the contract. Yes, you are dead. But you're also travelling through time with a chronolock that's counted down to zero. Do you see the problem?"
Clara looked to the floor. Her hand clenched around the goblet. "As parasites of time, I've upset time. I've upset them." A sudden thought came to her. "The Time Lords said time would shatter if the Doctor extracted me. Is that - is that what's happening?"
"No, my dear. The disturbances of which I speak are splinters. Small cracks around you, forward and backward in your timeline. Some splinters are larger than others, especially - " Vastra paused for a moment. She continued, "Especially where you've lingered for too long."
"The Doctor," Clara clarified. "The Doctor's in danger. From me."
With her eyes still glued on her guest, Vastra took a swig of her dark red drink and placed it on the table. The clink of glass on wood resounded in the quiet room.
"I think, Miss Oswald," Vastra said, louder than before. "We haven't seen the last of the Hybrid."
Author's Note: Hi, yes, I'm back - sort of. If anyone is still around. I started writing this as a side project to help take my mind off a new fantasy manuscript I'm writing. It's post-S9 and will interchange between Doctor chapters and Clara chapters. Reviews are always welcome and encouraged!
