This story is written to take place between Rings of Akhaten and Cold War.
Written for the dw-secret-santa ficathon; recipient: whoufflethroughtime; requested characters: 11/Clara
Disclaimer: Doctor Who is owned by the BBC... obviously.
In the aftermath of Akhaten, it seemed that there were rules to follow about traveling with Clara... which rankled at the Doctor because he'd never needed rules with his companions before.
Well, alright. For years and years, there hadbeen the primary one. Don't wander off.
Still. That was -despite how he'd always phrased it- more of a suggestion. (Especially as no one ever bothered to follow it.)
But now. New companion and with her, new rules; and he'd be lying if he didn't say they were killing his enjoyment a little.
Rule #1. Clara was simply Clara; and not whoever she reminded him of. He was trying to be a good sport about that one, if only because he had a feeling it wouldn't do any good to admit that the person she reminded him of was... well, herself.
And then rule #2. He had to understand she had commitments, and that their travel arrangements were at her convenience.
That one he was having a lot of trouble coming to terms with.
"I can't just leave," Clara said again, for what she suspected might have been the fiftieth time that half-hour. She crossed her arms, leaning against the railings of the console as she tried, earnestly tried to make him understand.
"Do people really do that around you?" she asked curiously. "Just run off across the Universe when you ask?
"Because I can't," she continued when it was clear he wasn't going to say anything, "just pack up and go! Do you expect me to tell everyone 'I'm off for a while, don't know when I'll be back'?"
Ah, the Doctor thought. This was the conversation he was more used to having.
"You don't exactly have to tell them, Clara. Weren't you listening when I said Time Machine? You can be back minutes after you've left. And, you don't even have to pack!" He waved his arm, gesturing toward the stairs. "There's an entire wardrobe back there… mind you, I'm not sure where it's got to these days. But it's there! Clothes for every occasion! And on board we've got bathrooms and bedrooms and kitchens and squash courts and even a pool...
"Though," he frowned, "come to think of it, I'm not sure where that's gotten to either.
"Still. You can stay here, none of that back and forth-ing. Anywhere you want to go, at any time...?"
Clara groaned, feeling herself weaken. She could. She'd always wanted to travel. Forget 101 places to see; with time and space at her disposal, just imagine the book she could create…
"I have responsibilities…" Clara said faintly as the Doctor gave her a hopeful grin. She shook herself. No use sounding so feeble about it.
"I have things to do," she continued, pleased that her voice didn't waver. "Things I've chosen to do, at the expense of others I might have preferred… Commitments, Doctor. Surely you understand that, don't you? Even you must have responsibilities of your own?"
"No," he answered swiftly. "I don't. No responsibilities, Clara. Nothing I have to do. I can see the world, run off anytime I choose."
How strange, Clara found herself thinking. His phrasing. His adamant statement that he has no ties; because he's lying, he must be. Everyone has something…
"No job?" she asked. "Bills… family… friends, even?"
The Doctor shook his head, not quite meeting her eyes.
"Not since… not for a while. Nothing and no one, except seeing what the Universe has to offer."
She nodded, mentally digesting what he'd said. There was an intoxicating sense of freedom in that. Intoxicating and mildly terrifying.
"Well," Clara said, "I'm not like that. And I can't make a decision about staying on board right now… so how about we discuss all of this later?" She smiled at him, cheeks dimpling.
"Come on, Doctor. The kids are out, I've got free time… and you keep offering the stars, but all I've seen today is the inside of your snog box."
"Space ship!" he corrected automatically, his face faintly pink. "I don't snog people in here-" the colour of his cheeks deepened until he looked like nothing more than a tomato with hair. "I mean I haven't... a long time ago there was-"
Clara raised an eyebrow, a mocking smirk on her lips; and the Doctor finally stopped talking, turning to fiddle with the console, scrutinizing the monitor before clearing his throat.
"Alright!" He sounded cheerful enough, but there was a tiny edge in his voice. If she didn't know better, she'd think he sounded sad.
"I promised the stars, hmm? Let's see what they can deliver."
They landed with a bump, and she waited for him to open the doors. She always waited. This was his adventure to share with her, and she just couldn't be so forward as to fling them open herself.
Plus, despite the excitement, a little part of her worried. What could be outside? The plane had been confusingly terrifying, the market on Akhaten amazing... But she just didn't know what could be out there this time. If she'd like it.
So she held back. Let him dance before her, open the doors with a flourish before she peeked out to see what he was offering this time.
Earth.
Clara stepped outside, feeling slightly disappointed. All around her: houses, buildings, parked cars. Ordinary concrete streets and ordinary sidewalks complete with fenced-in, potted trees.
"We're in..." She cast her eyes around, trying desperately to find hints to their location, but she couldn't even see any street signs to give her a clue on language. The Doctor grinned at her discomfiture.
"Wrong architecture to be London... Prague, maybe? No; Vienna."
He shook his head.
"Well, it's a city," she said defensively. "On Earth."
"One out of three, Clara. Not bad."
She grimaced. "Doctor, getting one correct out of three is terrible."
"Well..." He shrugged. "Alright. Yes, it is."
It was annoying when he thought he could patronize her. "Well then," she said, tilting her head back to look straight into his eyes. "If you're such a clever boy, then tell me. Where are we?"
"You think I'm clever?" The Doctor straightened his bowtie, attempting a lofty expression. "I suppose I am. And this isn't Earth," he continued cheerfully, taking her arm. "Earth-like atmosphere and culture. Architecture based on Vienna, actually."
"At least I guessed that part correct," Clara mumbled.
"Funny thing about colonies. They always went to find a new home, to free themselves of the prejudices of the past and start over; and yet their Capital cities were always designed with a certain nostalgia for the old world. This one is called Neu Wien."
"Nooveen?" Clara asked absently, swivelling her head right and left, taking in the sights.
"New Vienna, I suppose you'd say. They kept a lot the same… museums, churches… even the Parliament buildings, which would be-" Clara watched him, fascinated and ever-so-slightly disgusted as he licked one finger, holding it up in the air like a barometer before spinning them around to walk in the other direction.
"Over there!"
"We were walking in the wrong direction?"
"Scenic route. Anyway," he grinned at her, "enough on architecture. Welcome to Shonslebn, which was founded by one of the later colonies to leave Earth."
"Shons-" Clara wrinkled her nose, trying to make her tongue behave to pronounce the name. If she was going to visit a new place, she might as well be able to say it.
"Shonslebn. Language shift. Used to be Schoenes Leben –beautiful life- but that was quite a mouthful for the colonists to keep saying. Tried abbreviating it to Schoenes, then to Leben, but finally-"he shrugged, "as I said. Language shift. Not as bad a planet name as it could be, though. I've heard some doozies before."
"You know what they used to call themselves before? Is this," Clara asked, "another place you brought your granddaughter to?"
His smile faded slightly. "No. But someone I knew a long time ago, Doctor Song, helped to organize their transport here back in the 51st century. They were fellow professors and their families, educated people seeking a better way of life. An ideal place to belong...
"Well," he smiled ruefully, "they always try, don't they? All colonies, every time or species had the same idea. Setting out to seek a brave new world."
"Did they manage it? The...Shonslebns?" She stumbled over the name, but he nodded so obviously it was correct.
"Because this looks just the same as Earth. My Earth, I mean. I thought that if they're a colony from the-" she paused, trying to come to terms with the idea of people from thirty centuries after she'd been alive, "-51st century, they'd have flying cars already or people would have developed wings or teleports..." Her voice faded when she looked up at the Doctor to see his shoulders shaking slightly with laughter.
"You've seen this," Clara snapped warningly. "But it's all new to me. How do I know that future humans don't turn into...winged beasts!"
"Trust me," the Doctor chuckled. "That won't happen in the correct timeline. No, you humans stay all human-y until the end. Same basic shape. Same basic limitations and strengths. Yes, some of you intermarry to create a wealth of subspecies. Human-tree hybrids, a very short mushroom race... Oh, and there are a surprising number of fish-people on other planets..."
Clara stared at him, mouth gaping slightly and eyes wide. Fungus-folk and space mermaids? He might have been teasing... but no, he kept talking, throwing out alien names of places and people. Probably not kidding then.
"So," she interrupted, cutting across his monologue, "we're here in Shonslebn to see..."
"Why do we need something specific to see?" The Doctor beamed at her, squeezing her arm in excitement. "That's the fun of this, of travelling anywhere in time or space. We can see anything. Do anything!"
The problem was, there didn't seem much to see or do. Future human colony or not, prowling around what looked like a replica of a 21st century Earth was incredibly boring. Especially as there were no people. Clara stifled a yawn as the Doctor pulled out his screwdriver, scanning for life forms.
"It says," he muttered, squinting at the display, "that almost everyone is in the town square. Maybe it's a celebration? I love a good party..."
However it wasn't a celebration, or a party.
More of a lynch mob; albeit a quiet one. But Clara could feel the tension building, could hear the whispers among the crowd; of which a few members burst into sudden jeers when the people parted to reveal a skinny teenaged boy with wild eyes, hands bound by a length of rope being led toward to Hall of Justice by a plump, supercilious magistrate.
"Traitor!"
"No-good child! Belongs on the Scrap Heap!"
Clara cringed at the anger in the voices around them. "Not a party, then," she said flatly. Ahead of her the boy trudged unwillingly forward, head bowed at the unceasing verbal abuse being shouted in his direction; and her heart ached for him.
"Not at all," the Doctor agreed. "Angry mob, unpleasant stares...straight off my Christmas list, but he looks like he's found himself in a prickly situation."
"Wouldn't you be?" she burst out? "If you were him?"
The Doctor gave her a surprisingly level stare. "I've been in my share of bad situations, Clara."
"And you always made it out, didn't you? And that's why you're being so ..." She stopped herself, not sure if she should say the words that teetered on the tip of her tongue. So alien. He'd said he was a thousand years old with two hearts and twenty-seven brains; but his reaction at seeing that boy looking so helpless, so terrified...
Maybe she'd expected him to have more humanity than he possessed.
"So… calm," she faltered. "You're being very calm."
"Of course I always made it out," he answered absently, rummaging into his pocket until he produced his screwdriver, flipped between his fingers to casually flick through settings. "Because-" he pressed a button so that it made a high squeaky sound, then proceeded to fiddle with it some more, "sometimes it helps to be calm. Especially if all you need to get out of a sticky situation is a bit of ..."
He turned swiftly, Clara's hand falling from his arm as he aimed the sonic at a row of nearby street lamps, and the entire set ignited in a flash of sparks.
"Help!" he finished triumphantly, turning to grin at her over the shrieks of the crowd already shoving at them to get away from the pyrotechnic display he'd unleashed.
"Help," she echoed back, fighting to stay by his side. "So the boy?"
"Untied. Already running away." He sounded smug.
"But what if someone saw you do –whatever you just did- with your screwdriver?"
The Doctor scoffed. "No one saw that! Anyway, who would connect that with me?"
But he was wrong. Clara knew it an instant later. Not too far away from them, standing outside the Hall of Justice was a short figure swathed in a dark robe; and as she watched the person turned in their direction, snapped their fingers and a slew of police came toward them.
"Doctor," she hissed urgently. His attention was on the lights, on the gold and blue and red sparks still flying heedlessly into the air.
"I should recalibrate setting 93," he muttered to himself. "They shouldn't still be doing that."
"Doctor," Clara said, her voice louder. She might not have even been there, for all the attention he was paying her. "Listen! I think someone saw you, and the police are-"
She didn't have the time to finish her sentence, because two things happened, all at once.
One lamp burst merrily into flame and the crowd gasped, moving in a massive surge away from it.
And the police had reached the Doctor's side, muscling their way through the shrieking mob to grip him, one on each arm.
"I'm afraid you're going to have to come with us," Clara heard one of them say as they frog-marched him along between them. She tried to grab for his hand to join him wherever he was going, to pull him away; but there were already too many people between them.
"No," she whispered, hand still outstretched toward him. "No, come back. Doctor! Doctor!"
He turned his head, giving her a reassuring smile and mouthing something at her. It could have been it's alright, or don't worry or even I'll meet you back at the TARDIS. She couldn't be sure, because the people around her were too tall, or she was too short ... All she knew was that she couldn't fight against the surge of panicked humanity that carried her away, and soon she couldn't see him at all.