This story had been on my mind for a long time and after the good reception this post had (linked bellow), I finally decided to write it.
It will be a three chapter story, and from the beginning I need to tell you all that I'm sorry for the angst. But I hope you all enjoy it.( post/128726283938/clara-was-always-his-clara)

Many thanks for misswinterseat for her help and support!


First time he met her she was lost and scared, hurt and tiredness in the dark brown eyes that looked into his with a familiarity that couldn't be possibly there. And he was young, so very young and foolish and lost in his own life. So far away of the man he wanted to be or could possibly be.

And her gentle voice talked about things she couldn't possibly know, shaking him out, intriguing him. But it had been her laughter, a beautiful sound so full of hope and so many other things that would take him thousands of years to understand that had captivated his hearts, planting the seeds of the feeling that would grow deep roots to bloom into something beautiful and lasting.

She was perfect for him, in every way. Always brave, always funny. Always exactly what he needed. And he loved her with all his hearts and made her his wife, and lived to make her happy.

Clara, his Clara.

And his love for her was still there, longer after she had gone.

The second time he met her, he was older and she wasn't really her. It couldn't be. It should be a ghost or the product of his probable expiring mind, he had thought at the time, not knowing how far of the truth he was.

But there she was, standing in front of him dressed like a technician, as beautiful as ever, coercing him to get hold of a different TARDIS because it would be more fun. And, even though he was just at the beginning of his long tenure, he felt old and tired, because he couldn't remember exactly how it felt to have fun. Not since she had died, so many years before. Yet, he did as she had told him, because how could he possibly deny her anything, even if it wasn't really she?

Through the years he had that odd feeling that she was always around, taking care of him, protecting him, like a constant companion. Most of the time, he thought it were just his foolish hearts, still longing for her after all those years. But there were times when he could see her at the corner of his eyes, like a shadow, a silhouette, a familiar face among a crowd that he had never been able to really find.

It took him centuries to meet her again, an old man hidden behind a young and childish façade. This time he didn't see her, because she was hidden too, her beautiful soul trapped into the most hateful creature of the Universe, transformed into a Dalek. And yet, again she was there for him. She was called Oswin then, and she died, saving him.

They met again in Victorian London, he was still his young and floppy haired self. She was Clara again, a governess. And again she gave her own life to save his.

Then he became obsessed with her, spent years thinking about her, searching the Universe trying to find her again to solve the mystery behind that girl that kept crossing his time line over and over. A girl with the same face, the same bravery, the same heart of the woman that had stolen both of his hearts centuries ago. A girl that, pretty much like the woman he loved, always died to save him.

Until, impossible as she had always been, she called him from 21st-century London: Clara Oswald, the impossible girl, this one so very like his Clara that every time she laughed his hearts burst.

They started to run together. Strangely, she didn't remember him, but she was perfect, too perfect in every way. Always brave, always funny. Always exactly what he needed. And that was enough for him for sometime and he got used to not knowing who Clara Oswald really was.

Until he found out the truth at Trenzalore, the mystery of Clara, of all the Claras he had met before, including his Clara, finally revealed. And he finally could see it clear.

But he was wrong. So very wrong.