"You, sir, are the most phantom-like of all..."
― Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre
Clara has seen all of his faces, but this face is far too devious for the good of them both - there's a dark passion, sharp, unapologetic wit, something unfamiliar and oh-so-irresistible in the wide-eyed, knowing manner she sometimes catches him looking at her. His last eyes has been full of burning curiosity.
Now he knew. Now he knew every little part about her. And she was afraid. This unfamiliar new face is one that scares her because a far darker part of his soul has surfaced, one that lures her in more than before. He is more vulnerable than ever but has never been stronger. She is unsure of where she stands, and the scariest thing of them all is that she can't quite do her trick anymore.
He smiles a wide and innocent smile and his eyes are burning with the heat of the victory. His gaze meets hers: 'How is your impossible heart doing, my impossible girl?' it seems to ask her. Her heart breaks, just a little because she knows, she knows - 'I don't ever stay.'
But let's get on with the tale. It's Wednesday night again. She's waiting for him, by default. It's near midnight and she thinks that perhaps he will not come today. Maybe he has gone on a solo adventure. Maybe he is still angry at her because of the fight they had. This face is so much harder to understand than the previous one and that is saying something. He is also so unpredictable, maybe he won't come at all, ever.
She shouldn't have mentioned professor River Song.
Clara is sitting on her favorite, big armchair, nearly asleep but with opened eyes. She wishes he would come but the clock has struck twelve already. Maybe she should go to her room and get some rest, like a normal human who didn't pin after a thousand years old alien (then again, she is a thousand years old herself, with all her lives and reincarnations).
She hears the sound of TARDIS materializing, her heart skips a joyous beat. He has come, she thinks sleepily, oh, God, this time he has come, and she doesn't know why this is so important to her. The blood in her veins is pounding through her from a joined adrenaline and endorphin rush and she stands up abruptly, and goes to open the door. She hadn't realized that it had been snowing.
There is such a gleam in his eyes- alive, vulnerable to her (he bares his soul and his hearts at her feet, at the moment), and she is so happy that he hasn't gone this time because, after all, only two weeks ago his last face had dissolved into the stars; she can't help but grab him by the collar of his ridiculous Victorian shirt and kiss him with all her might, dragging him into the warmness of the house.
She is happy, now, she is so happy because he is kissing her back and with full as much passion. She smiles, and the stirrings of her face muscles, and the sound of TARDIS materializing for real, wake her up.
She drags her feet to the door and opens it.
"Sorry I'm late," the Doctor says, rubbing away the coldness from his hands . "Did you have a nice new Year? Are you well, Clara? You look pale. You aren't hung-over, are you?" he asks and had she allows a little smile to answer his questions. "Because I know a planet with the quickest anti-hang-over-draught in the world. It's a big ocean world full of islands, rather like the Earthsea series actually, you'll love it. - Clara, what's the matter with you? You seem depressed."
Last week she had seen him allow the destruction of a planet in the name of River Song (because as it turned out, she wasn't continuously dead), and today he smiles with all the innocence in the world, hiding away the darkness in his eyes and asks her if she is hung-over and grabs her hand and takes her to an adventure 'round the universe.
"No, I'm alright," is her usual reply but she feels empty and at the same time weakened by jealousy and inner rage. "Never been better."
A few days later, it's still snowing outside. Clara is feeling tranquil, making snow angels with the children. It's Tuesday, so she isn't expecting the Doctor but at the same time doesn't feel surprised when she hears the TARDIS materializing. She doesn't bother to get up, instead simply averts her face so that she can see him (unlike the kids who stand up and go to him, excited to see the new face she had warmed them about).
"I liked the old face better."
"Well," he says. "It's not exactly like I can help it. I don't get to pick up from a fashion magazine a face that would suit me."
Clara hears him nearing her. "Hello, Doctor," she says. "Bit early this week, aren't we?" He sits next to her.
"It's not Wednesday?"
"No."
"Want me to come back later?"
"No."
"Are you up for an adventure?"
"Today? No."
"Are you up for anything?"
"N-"
"Clara, you're acting like a child," he says in exasperation. "Please stand up." She frowns at him as she obliges. "That's much better. The image of you lying surrounded by snow is calling unwanted thoughts."
She ponders for a second before she realizes. "Oh."
"Yeah."
"Sorry?"
"No problem." Soon he begins again: "Where will you rather have me then? if not for an adventure."
Anywhere near me, anywhen.
"Well," she says this time, gathering snow in her left hand. Oh. It dawns on him.
"I know a place you'd like," he says after the game is over and the children have gone inside. Clara gives him a cup of steaming hot chocolate and he blows it a little so that it'd cool down faster.
"Oh, do you now?"
"It has a rather long name - New New New New New-"
"Doctor?"
"Let me finish, it's not that long. New New New-"
She sighs in irritation. "I've already seen this place. Don't take me to the 'usual dating spots'. Not fan of routines. I'm not your everyday companion."
"No," he says and looks at her oddly, for a long moment. "You're not."
The next time he takes her out to space, ("So it's a date then?" "A date? I wasn't aware I was still your boyfriend... Oi, what's with the wolfish smile? I've the sudden feel I'm Little Red Riding Hood now. Though with an orange space suit instead, and certainly not little and certainly not a girl!"), it's summer. She's in an unnamed planet, sitting in a meadow and reads a book, waiting for him, as he'd told her to. Pretty soon, he appears- mysteriously tired. He crawls next to her, and lies under the shadow of the tree, hiding his eyes with the back of his hand. She doesn't think anyone has seen him so himself in front of another.
He shifts his hand away, and looks at her, and smiles. "Read to me, Clara," he demands softly.
"Why don't you read yourself?"
"Oh, humor me. I just saved the village."
"You did?"
"Yeah, " he answers, somewhat defensively.
"Okay." So she reads to him, and he closes his eyes.
A bit further into the evening, when one of the suns begins to set, and she has closed her book, he says:
"If," he begins, "If I had run away before Trenzalore, would you have come?"
"I would have come anywhere with you, Doctor," she openly admits. "As long as it was not the past."
"Good." And they don't talk about it anymore. They don't talk about their feelings. The only time they did, and the only thing he said was that 'River is a ghost from the past, one he had bid goodbye too', and he had looked at her meaningfully.
He's darker than before, but she won't give up on him. This is when he needs her the most and she's his impossible girl and she'd bring him out of the darkness. The Doctor's not known to be a patient man, but he seems to be set on waiting for her to give into him too, completely and finally, with a little seductive prompting from his side.
Eventually, Clara succeeds.
Eventually, the Doctor does too.