AN: Hello :3 This is me, finally starting the plot that's been in my head for all of 7b. Set just after TNOTD, this will hopefully keep me busy until November. Happy reading, whoufflepuffs, and please let me know what you think. I'm on tumblr as letyoursoul.
He was traveling alone.
Never a good idea for the Doctor, but when one is very old in a universe full of brief lifetimes, alone is an inevitability. The TARDIS had dropped him on a planet with a name he hadn't bothered to learn to pronounce, but was known by most as the Land of Tall Grasses. He had stepped out the front doors, the squeak of hinges breaking loudly into the peaceful wind-rustle that stretched for miles around. A faint smile lit up his otherwise travel-weary face as he took in the scene; a billion billion sentient lives, gray-green and beautiful, whispering among themselves. The Doctor trailed a hand reverently over them as he walked carefully through the masses.
And then he was running.
Not far behind, a screeching metal device was crushing the grasses in its wake, churning up black soil, and the Doctor could hear the breathy screams as innocent lives were lost. He spun to face the enemy vehicle, flinging forward his outstretched arm and narrowing his eyes in concentration as the sonic pulsed out debilitating rays and the machine began to spark and thump. The energy field was threatening a total implosion, but it was the only way to stop this destruction and save the rest of the grasses. He pinched his eyes shut, ready to be overtaken in the blast wave.
Instead, a hand grabbed his wrist and yanked him sideways, knocked him flat on his back, and rolled him into a stone trench just as the machine blew. He didn't open his eyes until he heard the growing waves of relief hissing through the grass fields—the threat was defeated, and somehow he was still alive. He slowly blinked one eye open, and saw the blurry image of a round face, wide golden-brown eyes throwing a million questions at him, a crooked smirk of rosebud lips that were saying something reassuring, or maybe scolding him for being so foolish, or maybe this was all in his imagination because it was Clara, his Clara, his impossible girl saving his life like he knew she had a hundred thousand times. But he recognized this face, he knew his Clara anywhere, so how could this be? The Land of Tall Grasses rustled and swayed and swam through his consciousness and then the Tardis console was blinking wildly into focus around him, and then he was rubbing an imprint of the buttons out of his right cheek.
A dream then. No, not a dream, not quite—a memory. One he now understood. The girl who had saved him all those eons ago, and then disappeared—that was another Clara. It was as if every time he closed his eyes, there was another one.
"Falling asleep at the wheel, captain?"
The Doctor rubbed his eyes once more for good measure, then spun in his chair to face the girl who had just popped into the room. A soft wave of chocolate hair, eyes scrunched up a bit with that same sideways smile. His Clara. She was everywhere, but most importantly, she was still right here beside him. He laughed into a bright smile. "Apologies, mate."