Accustomed to your face
DISCLAIMER: Doctor Who belongs to the BBC and thank you RTD for helping to bring him back. This is an exercise of love and no money is being made from it.
Gone, he was gone. One second he was standing in front of her as she begged him to stay and the next, there was a flash of light and a complete stranger stood before her in his clothing. How was that possible? In what part of the universe did this seem possible?
Of course Clara knew about a Time Lord's ability to regenerate. After all hadn't she thrown herself into the Doctor's time stream, scattering herself through all his lives? Clara still had faint memories of those times, faint remembrances that occasionally popped up in her dreams. The Doctor had said these would fade in time, that this life would assert its dominance and the rest would become mere figments of her imagination. And she had personally met two other versions of the Doctor only recently. She had liked them, they were nice and she could see shades of her Doctor in their actions and beliefs. But they were not him, like this one was not him.
He would never be him. Never again would Clara see that mad glint in her Doctor's eye as he threw them headlong into another adventure. Never again would she see that stupid hair, that silly grin, his chin that she always teased him for – even if it wasn't half as bad as she implied. She loved to watch as he rubbed his hands together and tried desperately to be cool. How could someone so smart be so clueless at the same time? She would miss his hugs, kisses on the top of her head and those puppy dog eyes. Oh how she was going to miss those sad puppy dog eyes.
It was bad enough when Clara had thought the Doctor was going to die, how she had watched him age; grow sadder and more resigned to never seeing any more of the universe than that one small planet, Trenzalore. She knew he had tried to spare her by sending her back home and there were times she had forgiven him that small selfishness. Didn't he understand that he needed her more there by his side than anywhere else? Who else truly understood him, would never leave him? Except now he had left her alone, alone with some stranger.
Clara watched this new man, this new Doctor, as he moved quietly about the console. There had been a moment when he had first changed; where she thought they were both going to die. When he had rambled on about his kidneys and then asked her if she knew how to fly the TARDIS, but then he had turned his back on her and began circling the six sided console, hands reaching out, fingers caressing the panels. As he continued to circle his movements became more confident, more self-assured. To Clara it was like seeing a baby animal standing on its feet for the first time. She had seen it on documentaries, that first stumbling steps as the newborn tried out its legs, the uncertainty at first as it explored the new world. Then in mere minutes it was gambolling about next to its mother, oozing confidence like it had always been there.
That was what it had been like with this man, indecision quickly followed by self-belief as the TARDIS responded to his touch. The machine seemed to accept the change. Clara frowned, stupid cow, she thought they had come to some sort of understanding. So why was it betraying her Doctor's memory with this new version?
Clara's eyes began to well with tears as she realised once more she would never see him again. This was worse than dying, at least when someone died there was a finality to it all. When her mum had died, it had hurt for quite a while but there was a sense that in time the hard edges would fade and the good memories would rise to the surface. But how can you mourn when the person in front of you is still there? Oh he doesn't look the same; he doesn't even sound the same. But if what the Doctor had told her was true, somewhere inside that man was her bow tie wearing Doctor.
Clara's eyes widened and she looked about the floor. Where was it, he had taken it off and let it fall to the floor. Where was his bow tie? The spot where it had fallen was empty. Somehow the other one must have kicked it away during one of his many circuits around the console. It wasn't fair! Clara had lost so much and now she was going to lose this little thing too? No, wait, wait a minute. There it was pushed up against the base of the console. Clara breathed a small sigh of relief, not lost then.
Clara waited until the other one's back was turned then she quickly bent down and picked up the discarded piece of cloth. Winding the dark purple fabric around her fingers she lifted it to her nose and inhaled, trying to find his scent. It was stupid she supposed, it was just a bow tie; but she remembered the day after her mum had died. Clara had waited until her dad was on the phone or was talking to one of the many visitors offering their condolences, she couldn't really remember. What she vividly recalled was rushing to her parent's bedroom and pulling out one of her mother's nightgowns before hurrying to hide it in her room. Every night for weeks after the funeral she would take it out and wear it to bed, trying in vain to reconnect with her mother through a faded cotton nightie.
Clara dropped her hand and looked at the fabric, she couldn't remember when she had stopped wearing that nightgown to bed, and she wasn't even sure where it was now. Had she thrown it out, had her dad? One day would she forget where she had hidden the Doctor's bow tie? Sighing Clara looked up to see the other one staring at her. Gulping at the intensity of his gaze she hid the bow tie behind her back and tried to smile.
How could she do this, how could she accept that this stranger before her was the Doctor? It was asking too much of her.
Oh, Doctor, please come back to me.