A/N La la la I know completely canon, um... yeah. I suck at authors' notes.


Clara

The coach rocks itself bacwards and forwards, and she rests her head against the cushioned seat. Her thoughts whir in her head, but she doesn't want to face them just yet, so she pushes them away for now.
"Clara Oswin Oswald?" asks the man in front of her, and she jerks upwards, sucking the air in through her teeth.
"Huh?" she says, then remembers her place, straightens down her skirts and replies with a small 'yes'. She slips her shoes back on, which for some reason she had taken off (though why she can't remember, considering the extreme cold of her situation). She smiles, nods in thanks to the coach driver and steps out of the coach.


She remembers the children quite clearly, and their shining faces light up her day. Smiling down at both of them, she shakes their hands, laughs and carries her bags back inside. The girl stops her first though, a desperate look on her face.

"I've been having..." she begins, and sighs and starts again. "I've been having nightmares." she says more firmly, and Clara turns, surprised.

"Have you talked to your father about such matters?" she asks, giving the young girl her hand.

The girl shakes her head.

"Children," the girl mocks, "are not his area of expertise."

Obviously annoyed, she looks down at her feet, and Clara notices the solitary tear that runs down the girls cheek.

"Francesca," she smiles, "it's OK."

Clara takes the young girls hand and they walk. Nothing else happens. They simply walk.

The children are playing and Clara is content, though perhaps a little exhausted. She sits at the window and sighs, and she sees snowflakes forming on the windows.

Wait.

Snowflakes.

Snowflakes...

Her gaze travels, and she sees him, standing, hands in pockets, whistling to himself.

"Oh!" she cried, "wait there!"