The Mystery of the Missing Vortex Manipulator
Summary: Tie-in to the Day of the Doctor. Whatever happened to that darn vortex manipulator, anyway? The Doctor wants to know! And Clara may or may not have the answer...
Disclaimer: The usual stuff. I don't own Doctor Who or its characters. I simply clarify plot holes where I see them.
A/N: I know it's been a long time since I've posted anything. I hope this makes up for it a little. It's classic 11/Clara fluff & humor, along with a little surprise at the end. Enjoy!
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The following conversation takes place the day after the events involving the Zygons, the Time War, and the 3 Doctors...
"Um...Clara?"
"Yes, Doctor?"
"Before you pop off to bed, would you mind telling me where you put the vortex manipulator?"
"The what?"
"The vortex manipulator. Belonged to Jack Harkness, a friend of mine. You used it yesterday to come get me—well, me and the other two mes—in order to break us out of the Tower of London."
"Oh! You mean that time-jumpy, wrist-watch thingy?"
"Er...yes. That. Do you still have it?"
"Nope. Sorry."
"Well, where is it then?"
"Haven't a clue."
"But...you were the last one with it."
"Possibly."
"'Possibly?' Who else might have it!? Did somebody take it from you!? A member of UNIT, perhaps? Or...or...oh...oh no...it wasn't a Zygon, was it?"
"No...don't think so. Donno. Can't remember. Weird day and all that."
"Clara...?"
"What, Doctor?"
"You...you aren't -hiding- it somewhere, are you?"
"What!? And why would I do that? I only used it that one time...didn't even know what it was or how it worked, really. What would I need it for anyway?"
"Oh...I donno...fun, perhaps? Not that there's anything wrong with fun, it's just that...I need it back."
"Oh. Well, I don't know where it is. You know, sometimes things just go missing, Doctor."
"Er...yes. Yes, I suppose they do."
"Don't worry. I'm sure it'll turn up eventually. These kinds of things usually do. And in the oddest of places, at the oddest of times...wouldn't you agree?"
"Quite."
"Alright then! I'm off. Call me if you need me for anything again."
"Clara! One last thing..."
"And what's that, Doctor?"
"What time have you got?"
"Sorry, what? Are you serious? You've got a *time machine*. I'm sure you could figure it out. Besides, I thought time didn't really mean anything while we're in here."
"Humor me. Please check your watch for me."
"But why?"
"Do I need a reason?"
"You always have a reason."
"Fine. I just want to know what time it is in your area of London right now so that I can drop you off at a reasonable hour tomorrow."
"Aaaawww. That's sweet of you, Doctor. Too bad I can tell when you're lying."
"Am not!"
"Are so!"
"Am not!"
"Oh, you so are!"
"I am not and I resent the implication!"
"Oh, come off it! Just admit it! You just want to see if I've got the vortex thingy strapped to my wrist or not. Nice try, Doctor. But see? Look! Nothing there. May I go now?"
"Hmph! Yes...I suppose you may. Thank you. You can go."
"Great. Cheers!"
"But Clara...?"
"Oh, what is it now, you old grump?"
"Oi! Rude!"
"Sorry...what is it?"
"You seriously have no idea what happened to it?"
"I seriously have no idea. Can we drop this now, please? I'm kind of tired and I've got classes to teach tomorrow."
"Alright. I'll drop it...for now. But do give me a ring if you should happen to find it again, eh? It's just that...it's not a toy, you know. It's quite a tricky device. Not exactly the sort of thing you should leave out...it could easily fall into the wrong hands. You have to be careful with it...if you get it wrong, the end results would be disastrous..."
"Okay...thanks? You know, I couldn't help but notice that you kept saying 'you' in that sentence...as if you still believed I had it...which would be silly because I already told you that I didn't."
"Well, right. Course not."
"Right. Good."
"Because you don't have it."
"Exactly."
"Okay then..."
"Okay. I think I'll just go...unless you had some other parting advice for me?"
"Well...yes. As a matter of fact, I do. If say, someone found it again...and perhaps that someone wanted to, I donno...go traveling with it...one would need a specific set of space-time coordinates to punch in as a destination point. Without those coordinates, one might find themselves very, very lost indeed."
"Okay...and, out of sheer curiosity, where might one find those coordinates?"
"One would only have to look around at the right time, in the right place..."
"Right. Well, this has been most informative, Doctor. Now, if you don't mind, I think I'm going to go to bed now. Good night!"
"Good night, Clara. Sleep well. Don't wander off. I'll see you in the morning."
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Later that same evening, the Doctor spoke to the TARDIS about the missing vortex problem...
"She still has it, doesn't she?"
The TARDIS hummed in agreement, as if to say, "She does. You know she does."
"I wonder why? And why did she lie to me about it? And what could she possibly need it for, anyway? She's got me, after all."
The TARDIS then made a series of thoughtful beeps & chirps, as if saying: "Not always. Not forever. She's growing up."
"Yes...you're right, of course. I know she is...and someday, all of this won't be enough and she'll want...more. She'll get bored and she'll leave us. And that's good. That's the way it should be...but still, it does make one rather curious..."
The TARDIS hummed again, saying: "Indeed." But then she made a sort of inquisitive trill, like she was asking a question, but with a sarcastic flair thrown in: "But you're still going to send her a bunch of space-time coordinates, aren't you?"
"Well, obviously."
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Epilogue
Many, many years later on Earth, in a large family brick house in near London...
"Gwampa, what's that?" asked a 5-year old boy to his 75 year-old grandfather.
"What's what?" the old man answered.
"That blue box in the corner, under Gwammy's shoes?"
"Oh...I don't know...just an old shoebox, looks like," he replied wearily. "Probably just another pair of shoes. Your grammy had several hundreds, it seems."
"Can I look? I wanna see what's in it."
"Oh, alright...for a little bit...then we gotta get back to cleaning, OK?"
"Yeah, OK..."
The old man pulled the curious shoebox out from the shadows and they both stared at it curiously.
It was labeled, "Clara's Private Stuff".
"Hmm...peculiar...I've never seen this before in my life..." and he began to look very worried.
"Let's open it!" whined the child.
"I'm not sure we should...it's Grammy's special box...but, I am somewhat curious to see what she kept in here..."
"But Gwammy's sleeping now...isn't she?"
"Yes, my boy, she's sleeping now..." the old man muttered sadly.
"I just want to see..." whined the little boy.
"Alright...alright...here we go." The old man blew dust off the lid and lifted it carefully.
They both gazed inside and saw a heap of old yellowed photographs, a bunch of odd gizmos, and souvenirs from places the old man had never even heard of before.
"This is amazing! Look at these! Wha-? Where did all of this come from? And what the devil is that!?" the old man exclaimed in extreme surprise as he picked up several photos of his beloved wife standing next to what appeared to be...nooo...it couldn't be...that had to be fake! Some kind of mask, perhaps...yes, a Halloween costume...but where the heck was this taken? And when?
"Wow...it's a treasure box!" said the boy excitedly (not paying any attention to his grandfather at this point) and started grabbing photos and objects right & left.
"Careful, sonny! You can't just go 'grabbing' things like that!" cautioned the grandfather.
"Sowy, Gwampa...but what's that!?" The boy had gotten distracted by something else...he dove under the heap of photos to grab...some kind of watch, perhaps?
"What've you got there, Clarence?" The old man took the object out of his grandson's hands in order to have a closer look.
"What is it, Gwampa?" asked the boy.
"I...I don't know...it looks to be some kind of watch or compass of some sort. But not like any I've ever seen...these buttons...that writing...so strange...I wonder if it still works, whatever it is?"
"I wanna pwess the buttons!" pronounced Clarence as he climbed into his grandfather's lap to do so.
"Wait! Hey! Hold on there, sonny!" said the grandfather as he attempted to grab the young man's wrist. "You can't just go pressing buttons like that! We don't know what this thing is..or what it-"
*Beep* *Blip* *Beep*
Suddenly, an electric-static sort of buzz surrounded them...
In the blink of an eye, they found themselves in a cavernous domed room, and in the middle of that room, there was a consul with a million different buttons & switches and other bits & bobs.
More than that, though, the entire room was bathed in a eerie blue glow emanating from the middle of the consul.
Stranger still was the fact that the room itself seemed to be moving...
And even more strange was the man with no fashion sense, standing at that consul, flipping toggles right & left with a mad sort of flair...who finally seemed to have noticed that he was, in fact, not alone.
"...can do." the old man finished lamely, as he openly gaped all around the room.
"Wooooow! Cooooool!" the small child exclaimed.
"Um...I don't mean to be rude, but...who are you and how did you get in here?" came a steady, if inquisitive, but stern older voice of the gentleman at the helm.
"Um...oh...yes...I'm uh...Thomas Oswald & this is my grandson, Clarence. Who might you be, sir?"
"Thomas *Oswald*, you said?"
"Er...yes. Yes, that's right."
"Any relation to uh...say, a *Clara* Oswald, by any chance?"
"She was my wife for 30 years before she passed away...so yes, I'd quite say so."
The gentleman smiled...a sad, sort of wistful smile that somehow, immediately put Tom at ease, though, he couldn't explain why. It was almost as if...this man was an old friend from college or something that he hadn't seen in ages, but that was impossible. He'd never met this man in his life!
"This place is awesome! What is it?" demanded Clarence, feeling quite left out of the conversation at this point.
"It's a space-ship..." the strange gentleman said slowly, almost smugly, as he squatted down to the child's height, "...*and* it's also a time-machine!" He waggled his eyebrows for effect & it worked.
"Cool!" the child cried gleefully...and started running around the room, exploring and squealing in delight whenever he came across something he liked.
"Clarence! Wait! Get back here! Don't press that! You don't know what it does! And don't touch that switch!" Tom yelled in an anxious voice, and tried to stop him.
"Oh, it's alright," said the strangely-dressed man calmly, "most of those buttons don't do anything anyway...except for that one!"
Luckily, they were both able to stop the boy from pushing that particular button.
"So...before anything else happens and Clarence hits something important, I need you to answer me four simple questions...and then...I should like to go back home to London with my grandson, as soon as possible, if you don't mind. I don't want any trouble."
"Can I ask something first, since this *is* my vessel you're currently standing in?"
"Well...yes...I suppose."
"How did you get here?"
"I think it must have something to do with this thing..." Tom showed him the device, "...my grandson pressed some buttons on it and –POOF!-we're here...like some kind of magic trick gone wrong."
"Ah. I see. Yup. Just as I suspected. Vortex Manipulator. Been looking for this for ages...one mystery solved, then...thank you."
"So it's yours, then, I take it?"
"Well, yes...sort of. It belonged to an old friend of mine once..."
"Well, where did my Clara get it?"
"That's a long story...and probably not the right time to explain it. Why don't you ask me your questions first instead?"
"Okay. One: Where are we?"
"Deep space, actually. Well, to be more accurate, it's called The Jewel Nebula, named after the particularly colorful astral fog covering each and every planet and star in this quadrant...makes for a beautiful displ-"
"Never mind that. Two: What is this place?"
"Like I told your...-grandson, is it?-...it's a space-ship, and a time machine, but it's much more than that. It's also been my home now for...well...longer than I can remember. It's called the TARDIS."
"Okaaay...sure. Why not? I've seen some pretty strange things in my day...so, for argument's sake, let's just say I believe you...for now. On to question three: Who are you?"
"Your wife never mentioned me at all?"
The old man shook his head in the negative.
"Hmm...well, I suppose I shouldn't be surprised...helluva thing to try to explain to someone...very well, let's start fresh then. I'm called 'The Doctor'...and I'm very pleased to meet you both." He then shook Tom's hand warmly in greeting, then asked him, "So...what's the fourth question then?"
The old man blinked, as if stumped. He couldn't remember what his original question was...it was as if, the moment that his hand came into contact with this stranger's hand, that something inside him changed. It was like, all of his thoughts of home and his initial fear of being transported here, melted away and in their place, he felt more energized and more alive than he'd ever felt in all his 75 years.
"...Thomas? You said you had a fourth question?"
"Y-yes...I-I did..."
"...and what was it?" The man who called himself 'The Doctor' prompted him.
"You said this was a time machine?"
"Indeed I did."
"Right...," the man seemed to let out a large breath he'd been holding in.
"Gwampa, I like it here! It's fun! Can we stay for awhile? I wanna go 'sploring! Pwease, Gwampa! Pweeeeeeeeaaasssse?" begged an overly-hyper Clarence as he jumped up and down.
"Well, that settles that, I suppose. I think I know what my fourth question is now."
"Splendid! Let's have it then."
Tom breathed in a deep breath, looked at his grandson's pleading brown doe eyes, the same eyes as his beloved wife and daughter, then peered around the ship in amazement and curiosity...and let it out again, as he realized that, in a way, he already knew who this was and where they were, and what it meant to their family...and he recalled his beautiful, kind wife and how she used to tell their kids *and grand-kids* the most bizarre of stories at bedtime...and he came to a decision...a decision that would change their lives forever in the most impossible ways...
"My wife used to tell our kids stories when they were little...stories about the strangest things, places you could only imagine in your head...here I thought she was just really imaginative...'s why I married her...but I often wondered if the stories were true or not...and now that I find myself here...well, now I can ask the question I always wanted to ask her, but never got a chance to: Are you the man from those stories and were those things real?"
The Doctor grinned widely at the old man and his mischievous grandson and said, with a bright sparkle in his eye, and with a snap of his fingers, which made the doors of his ship open, "I am, ineed that man, Mr. Oswald, and yes, they were very real. And guess what? Today must be your lucky day, -because-outside those doors are a million more stories just waiting to be experienced. So...what do you say!? Want to make some new stories?"
The grandfather shared a sly smile with his grandson for a moment, who grinned with two missing teeth, before he turned back to the Doctor and said in a clear, calm voice: "I think cleaning can wait a little bit longer...what do you think, Clarence?"
"Uh-huh!" he replied, vigorously shaking his head in the affirmative.
"Well, then Oswalds...," the Doctor said as he flipped a large toggle, "...off we go..."
-THE END-
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