"Wandering child of the earth
Do you know just how much you're worth?
You have walked this path since your birth
You were destined for more
There are those who'll tell you you're wrong
They will try to to silence your song
But right here is where you belong
So don't search anymore"
-Adriana Figueroa (Wanderer's Lullaby)
A grey rain beat with unforgiving vigor against Clara's window as she lay beneath her plush bedsheets and clutched 101 Places to See to her chest as if it were destined to sprout limbs and scurry away at any moment. A fine layer of moisture brimmed her sagging eyelids, threatening to spill onto her flushed cheeks. Hovering like a sentinel in the storm beyond the sanctity of Angie's home was an ancient blue box quivering under the weight of a thousand years of secrets and playing host to a reclusive man who had promised Clara an entire universe only two days before. She shivered at the thought of setting foot anywhere near another spectacle as extravagantly alien yet so tragically human as that of Akhaten. Was darting across the fields of time and weaving among the mazes of space with the Doctor always so dangerous? Was it always accompanied by so much loss?
She imagined it was.
With a frustrated sigh, she gingerly wiped a cluster of tears from her chin and peeled open the tattered travel book she had been clinging to. Her breath hitched as she drank in the sight of the newly-blank first page. An entire era of her history had been erased as if Lady Fate had taken a marker and muddled complete novels of Clara's heritage. The memories lingered wistfully within the confines of her mind, but the physical, tangible sentiment had vanished like a passing spirit. The most important leaf in human history had turned to dust.
Just as a fresh onslaught of tears began to cloud her vision and stain the crinkled pages of the book on her lap, a voice quietly called her name from the hallway. She recognized it as the Doctor's almost immediately and shot up from her slack position to try to compose herself. Her breathing becoming painfully erratic, she frantically combed her trembling fingers through her knotted hair and brushed as much moisture from her face as she could, smearing her eye makeup slightly in the process. Once she had tucked 101 Places to See safely away in its shelf where it belonged, she responded with a hoarse "Come in!"
The door swung open with an eerie creak, and the lanky figure of the Doctor appeared in the room, his gaze upon Clara unmistakably sympathetic as he approached her bedside with mild trepidation and flashed her a sad smile.
"You've been crying."
It was a statement, not a question. Clara nodded reluctantly, her face scorched with embarrassment. In need of no explanation, the Doctor gently perched himself at the foot of the bed, glancing anxiously at her bookshelf as he sat.
"I believe I owe you an apology." He whispered, fidgeting absent-mindedly with a few loose strands of thread on the bedspread.
"What for?"
"Your book. I led you to give up page one."
"You could make it up to me by givin' me a page two."
Slight hints of a grin tugged at the edges of his lips, the prospect of whipping up a brand new batch of memories with Clara whirring enthusiastically through his head. His hearts fluttered in perfect synchrony at the thought of painting her world with colors and patterns and lovely things brilliant and meaningful enough to rival the triumphs of the most important leaf in human history. In honor of that autumn leaf, they could travel the universe and rise to become the most important team in every history in the history of histories. He wondered if she was considering the same thing.
Of course, she was. She'd been considering it since her first trip in the TARDIS.
Hesitantly and without breaking eye contact with Clara, who was holding her breath in anticipation of his next move, the Doctor ran a single finger along the spine of 101 Places to See, as if he could absorb its secrets with a fleeting touch. He noticed Clara wince like she had been pricked by a needle the moment he made contact with the book.
"Can I ask you a question?" He inquired, removing his hand from the book and folding it tenderly around Clara's.
She gave a quick nod.
"How did your mother die? What happened?"
A deafening silence overtook the room, bludgeoning the Doctor's conscience. He felt Clara's clammy fingers stiffen beneath his grasp as a host of memories bubbled to the surface of her mind and inspired her eyes to swell with the looming threat of tears. Her lower lip began to tremble subtly, and her gaze turned back to the travel book. The sheer sight of such unequivocal sadness washing over a face as cheerful and innocent as Clara's made the Doctor's blood boil, but he had to know how Ellie Oswald had died, and he wasn't about to go behind his companion's back and do that kind of somber field research on his own. He had managed to catch glimpses of Clara's timeline, but that's all they were. Glimpses. He'd seen vivid, heartbreaking flashes of a life which appeared to be so frustratingly average that he couldn't help but doubt its legitimacy. He supposed learning the events of Ellie's death would solidify the mystifying conclusion that Clara Oswald was, in fact, only a girl.
"There'd been an accident downtown. Mum and I were watchin' the news, and some reporter was talkin' about these things burstin' out of shops and hurtin' people. I thought it was rubbish, but she was properly scared. She needed to go to the grocery shop for somethin', but the news was makin' her want to stay home. I told her she was mad and that she should just head to a shop out of the way of the reports if it would make her feel less frightened..."
Clara inhaled sharply as she braced herself for what came next. Her hand slid away from the Doctor's and jerked toward a silver ring on her bedside table, which he recognized almost immediately as the ring she'd temporarily given up in Akhaten. She clutched it so tightly to her chest that her knuckles began to turn a sickening shade of white. Drawing a weak breath, she continued her tale.
"So she went completely out of her way, and she went by foot. I couldn't convince her to call a cab. She said she could always use the exercise. A couple hours later, I got a call that she'd been found unconscious on the sidewalk. She'd worn these new boots and tripped over a stupid little crack in the road, and her head hit the ground so hard... She died in the ambulance because of the injuries to her skull."
Much to the Doctor's dismay, Clara began to laugh, hysteria heavy in her tone.
"Can you believe it? People in London were out gettin' shot by shop mannequins, and my mum just slipped on her boots. And that was it. She just died because of a pair of boots!"
Stunned, the Doctor watched as Clara gripped her sides and doubled over, tears gliding steadily down her rosy cheeks as she cackled deliriously at the irony of her mother's death. He frowned and furrowed his brow before moving to unravel the ashy bow-tie from around his neck. A sharp pang of sympathy echoed through the caverns of his hearts as Clara's strained laughter morphed into sobs interspersed with hiccups that wracked her body with painful tremors. The Doctor, concern etched darkly in his features, bent to her level and tenderly tied her damp hair back with his bow-tie so that it cascaded down her spine in loose curls. He leaned in to grant her a soft kiss on the forehead before using two fingers to tilt her chin up to his eye level. Her wide, glistening eyes broke both of his hearts.
"Why did it have to be her? Why did it have to be my mum?" She cried, her expression pleading.
"I don't know. I don't understand the universe sometimes either. It gives us people and then it takes them away. Our job is to always remember them, no matter how short their time with us was. You can never allow time and all its demons to make you forget her. Keep her alive, in here." He gingerly laid a hand on her heart and pulled her into a soothing embrace, tracing patterns into the small of her back to help her relax.
Burying her face in his chest, she focused on slowing her breathing to the alluring tempo of his heartbeats and raised her thin arms to grip the back of his neck. He rocked her back and forth until the last of her tears had dried.
"I don't think you should give this up." He finally murmured into her hair.
"Give what up?"
"Traveling with me."
Frowning, she pulled away from his chest and raised her head to look him in the eyes.
"There's just so much more you could do. There's so much more we could do." He continued persuasively, eyeing the bow-tie looped around her brunette locks and grinning sadly at how perfectly it fit there.
"Who said anythin' about leavin'? I'm sad about my mum. I'm not sad about meetin' you or runnin' off with you in your snog box." She snapped, stifling a giggle when the Doctor flinched upon hearing the term "snog box."
"I'm Clara Oswald. I fought an old, hungry god, and I am a traveler." She asserted emphatically.
The Doctor's eyes widened as flashbacks of Oswin Oswald in the form of a dalek screaming similar words sprinted to the forefront of his mind, but he couldn't afford to dwell on that enigmatic connection. Not now.
Because this was Clara, no one else.
"There's something you need to see." He announced suddenly, yanking her to her feet and dragging her by the hand into the hallway.
"At least let me get dressed first!" She squeaked, nearly stumbling over the hem of her nightgown as she was led down the stairs.
"Not necessary! How do you feel about getting wet?"
"What?!"
Rather than answering her frantic question, he burst through the front door and out into the frigid downpour, issuing a brief apology when the temperature of the rain caused Clara to shriek. She glared at him before darting toward the TARDIS and jerking open the doors in search of shelter.
"It opened! It actually opened for me!" She hollered excitedly as the Doctor caught up and closed the doors behind him, smirking.
"Of course she did! She's finally made you a room! That's what I wanted to show you!"
Clara's face burst into an ecstatic smile.
"My own room? I get to... live here? In your snog box? Does that make it a snog house? A snog motel?"
"Oi! It is not a snog anything! It is the most powerful ship in the universe, and... Oh, shut up! Your bedroom is down that corridor, past the aquarium, through the anti-gravity spice garden, and three doors down on the left. You can't miss it. It's the only red door in the entire TARDIS. You go ahead! I'll join you in a moment!" He motioned toward a dimly lit archway in the corner of the room and gazed proudly as she skipped into the depths of the TARDIS in anticipation of her new life.
As she sped down the hallway, Clara admired the elaborate metalwork of the walls and the stripes of multicolored neon lights which lined the ceiling. It all vaguely reminded her of a night club she had entered on a dare during her stint in a university, except the club smelled heavily of cigarette smoke and couldn't travel through space and time with the push of a button. It could hardly make it to breakfast.
After several minutes of jogging, she passed the aquarium the Doctor had mentioned. It was about a quarter of a kilometer in length, and it stretched from the floor to the ceiling and continued infinitely far back into the heart of the TARDIS, as far as Clara could tell. She recognized one of the species in the sky blue tank as a breed of jellyfish, but it had spikes like a porcupine and was wagging its slimy tentacles around as if it were waving at her. She cautiously waved back before returning to her journey through the passage toward her room. She would have plenty of time to examine all the intergalactic sea creatures in the collection later.
She could tell the moment she had made it to the levitating spice garden when her eyes began to sting slightly, and she was overcome with a perpetual urge to sneeze. Hovering in the air above her like a flock of clouds was a collection of ground spices, grouped together by type like schools of fish. She recognized pepper, cumin, and saffron and shrieked a little when mustard seed tapped her on the shoulder. Shielding her nose and mouth with her palm, she sprinted out of the spice garden area and, at last, saw the series of three doors which she was supposed to be looking out for.
Sure enough, the one on the end was cherry red and had "Clara Oswin Oswald" scripted in navy ink on a wooden plaque.
"Again with the Oswin! At least somethin' as bright as the TARDIS is capable of makin' typos too." She thought before twisting the jet black doorknob and making her way inside.
She gasped at the sight which lay before her.
In the center of the room, thick lavender sheets bathed a massive, circular bed in ripples of silk that reflected the twinkle of the silver ceiling above, which was glistening with thin specks of copper. A cylindrical glass air circulator purred gently from the corner of the room, puffing delicate wisps of cool, sugar-scented mist in every direction. Entrancing abstract artwork lined the deep burgundy walls while a splendid assortment of patterned carpets as warm and soft as rabbit's fur covered the spacious ground. Bookshelves as tall as buildings towered in rows far to the left of the bed, stocked with what must have been every collection of geography books available in the universe. To the right was a host of clear, sparkling cases containing a massive quantity of detailed globes depicting the Earth, Mars, and dozens of other colorful planets that she had never heard of.
It was the sort of room Clara had always dreamt of setting foot in as a child.
Beaming with delight and gratitude, she peered into the hallway and delivered a brief salute of thanks to the TARDIS in hopes it was paying attention. Then, in a flurry of pillows and sheets, she threw herself onto the bed and giggled, finding herself feeling a tad childish. Something about the idea of actually residing in a mystical time traveling police box tickled her stomach and reminded her of the blissful fairytales her mother had read to her when she was a little girl. It was all so spontaneous and surreal, and she adored every moment of it.
"Do you like it?" The Doctor's quirky voice sounded suddenly from the doorway.
Clara stretched her arms into the air and yawned.
"Tired, eh?" He grinned and crossed the room to sit beside her on the bed among a plethora of golden pillows.
"I did save an entire planetary system and suffer through hearin' you sing all in one day, didn't I? I think I deserve a little rest."
"Hey, I'm a marvelous singer! Ask Queen Elizabeth!"
"I'm not even goin' to ask you to explain that one. Too tired." She chuckled as she slid her legs underneath the covers and rested her pulsing head on the stack of pillows beneath her.
"I believe this is 'good night' then." He responded quietly, brushing an errant hair from her face and bending to kiss her on the forehead as he often liked to.
"Wait!" She called before he could retreat.
"Could you tell me a story, Doctor?"
"A story? What sort of story? I've got loads of stories."
Clara smirked.
"Whichever one is the most important." She requested tersely.
The Doctor knew exactly which story to tell. Propping himself up against the headboard, he clasped Clara's small hand in his own and prepared to tell his favorite story. The story that he couldn't take his mind off of no matter how elusive it became. The story that had driven him mad with an exhilarating combination of anxiety, confusion, and excitement. The story that could put eons of history to shame and send leagues of galactic military forces marching home for a good cry. The story that was taking place at that very moment.
The story of the time lord and the wanderer.
"Well, once upon a time and several other times and a dozen more times afterward, there lived a woman. She was born on the old Earth but always dreamt of the new. She wanted to see the stars, you know. All of them. She grew up beneath the moonlight, tearing through every book she could get her hands on in hopes of discovering the universe's treasures on paper."
A tender smile graced Clara's tired features as her eyelids began to flutter shut.
"She had an enormous list of places she wanted to see. A list so long it touched her toes. A list full of dark places and light places and old places and new places and even places she wasn't sure existed just yet. And she vowed never to stop running until she saw them all, but, one day, something tragic happened. She lost someone very close to her, and her plans suddenly stopped. Her entire world just stopped. The planets she'd wanted to see and the things she'd wanted to experience became fantasies rather than goals, and the stars which had illuminated her direction in life slowly began to burn out. She became a bit of a drifter. A wanderer, if you will. A lonely little wanderer too scarred by the past to pursue the future."
"Did she ever find the person she'd lost?" Clara breathed, teetering too close to the brink of unconsciousness to make the connection that he was, in fact, telling her story.
He shook his head sadly and squeezed her palm.
"No, she didn't. She couldn't. But she did find somebody new. He'd lost somebody as well. Loads of people, actually."
The Doctor paused for a moment as visions of his past companions and late friends danced delicately in the forefront of his thoughts, clouding his eyes with a veil of nostalgic tears. He did miss them. He missed every last one of them. The Ponds, Rose, Martha, Donna, Susan, Sarah-Jane, and even the impossible Jack Harkness. But he couldn't help but be thankful for their departures.
Because they'd led him straight to Clara.
"Anyway, the man she met was a bit of a wanderer himself. They made a great team, the two of them. He showed up on her doorstep and offered her every corner of the universe, and she ran away with him. And oh, the things they did. The places they saw! He showed her nebulas and galaxies and suns, and she showed him what it meant to be human. Together, they saved worlds, even entire solar systems! People far and wide came to know them as the time lord and his wanderer, but she wasn't his. She belonged to the universe, and the universe belonged to her. There isn't an end to this story. The two of them wove in and out of the expanses of the past, the present, and the future and became such pivotal elements of time and space that their story can never end. They inspired legends on hundreds of planets, and many a song was written in their honor. Billions of people gaze into the sky each night and hope to see them cascading across the stars. They were extraordinary."
"She sounds like she was important." Clara whispered, now half-asleep.
The Doctor beamed down at her and gently ran his fingers through her soft hair several times before speaking again.
"She was. And she is. And she will be, millions of billions of years from now."
Pecking her softly on the cheek and sensing from her steady breathing that she had finally drifted off to sleep, he rose slowly from the bed, careful not to jostle her, and crept toward the hallway. He stopped beneath the door frame to glance proudly back at her still form, which was tangled loosely in a pile of blankets in the center of the bed. His hearts swelled at the lovely sight of that quiet, little wanderer, dreaming soundly at last, and, for a moment, he didn't feel at all lost. Not anymore.
"Goodnight, Clara Oswald. See you soon."