Author's Notes: I have no real excuse for this except that it was a plot bunny that wouldn't let me go. It has a bit of a reference to another story of mine, but it's hardly even noticeable, so this is a stand alone. I chose the name Clara Oswin for that version of her solely because it was the only one not used in the show. The songs I used are I Wanna Be Yours by Arctic Monkeys and Dance Little Liar, also by them.

I hope you like it and, since it's my first proper girl/girl story and I'm a bit anxious about it, I'd love to hear what you think.

Secrets I have held in my heart
Are harder to hide than I thought
Maybe I just wanna be yours
I wanna be yours, I wanna be yours

Clara laughed in disbelief as River kept gesturing around wildly, still describing the Zygon she said had chased her all the way home when she'd been a kid. Even if she didn't believe a word the other woman was saying, Clara just enjoyed the moment while she had it as they tried to keep as quiet as they could. The Headmaster had just went on his usual check if everyone was where they were supposed to be – the Luna University had very strict rules when it came to its inhabitants – and they were supposed to be asleep.

River had arrived here on the same day as her and they had taken the last empty room and, despite the big difference between their chosen subjects (River was studying a Archaeology and Clara wanted to be a pilot, but they shared a history class now that some pilots were taught to travel in time as well), they had clicked together perfectly.

"You think I'm lying?" River asked in fake outrage. "I had to run for my life for about an hour before I got back to the orphanage and even then I couldn't be sure that it wasn't waiting outside."

"Sure you did," Clara said and shook her head as she kept swinging her legs from the edge of the bed. "What year did you say that was?"

"Nineteen sixty-nine," River said and her eyes widened when Clara snorted in disbelief. "I already told you, I could move about a lot. I still can."

"Yeah, I know. That Doctor of yours," Clara said and, at least on the inside, her smile died a quick death. As long as the blasted man was around she didn't have half a chance with River. She had seen him a couple of times when he'd came to pick River up and she couldn't understand what her roommate saw in him. River was twenty-six and, from what Clara knew, the Doctor was older than dirt, even if he looked like he was their age.

That led her to thoughts about River herself. She was a Time Lady and this was her third body and – while Clara could see why she'd picked it; near physical perfection was definitely a good motivation – she couldn't understand how River could still stay sane despite it. How could you suddenly change completely and then just keep going? Clara had seen shape shifters before, but it wasn't quite the same – after all, they could change the way they looked at any moment.

Her eyes skimmed over River's body as she fiddled with the small remote control, trying to dim the lights a bit. The golden curls that surrounded her face looked like copper in the lights of their room and Clara knew that if she looked up, a pair of eyes that couldn't quite decide if they were green or blue would fix her with that knowing look that River had so often and that was usually accompanied by a small smirk on her perfect lips and–

River looked up and Clara nearly jumped out of her skin as she frantically fixed her eyes on some spot over the other woman's shoulder, successfully cutting off her descent into impure thoughts.

Clara sighed mentally. While she was quite confident in herself and her looks, she knew that she would hardly ever find the courage to actually do anything instead of just staring when she knew that her friend wasn't looking.

River, however, had no such inhibition – or so it seemed, because her smile suddenly became coy and she gracefully slipped out of her own bed and sat next to Clara, a hand on her shoulder in seconds before she could even figure out how she'd got so close so quickly.

Clara gulped audibly and her eyes widened as she saw River's gaze drop to her lips.

"Was there something you wanted to tell me?" River's voice was deeper than usual and her eyes were as innocent and clueless as they could be, but Clara couldn't be fooled.

"I wasn't actually aiming at talking," she managed at last and River laughed. The sound was melodic and soft.

"God, I love this century. Everyone here is just so honest." River had been born in the fifty-second century, just like her, but had spent the bigger part of her childhood in the twentieth and twenty-first century, so it was only logical that she liked to be back home. "Why didn't you say anything?"

As far as Clara was concerned, that was permission enough and, without saying anything else, she leaned in and wrapped her arms around River's shoulders, bringing her in for a kiss.

It wasn't what she'd imagined it to be, it was better and she gasped when River, without even a moment of hesitation, returned the kiss with blinding enthusiasm and Clara felt her roommate's nails sink into the skin of her back where they'd just ended up.

When they broke for air, Clara shot River a tentative look, only to be answered with a manic smile and River's fingers stroking her cheek. "Clara Oswin," she said, those same fingers sneaking into Clara's hair. "You've been holding back on me."

"You think so?"

River's smile was positively predatory now. "Oh, definitely."

o.O.o

The next several months were the weirdest and the best in Clara's life all at the same time and even now, surrounded by Sontarans on a planet whose name she hadn't bothered to remember, she couldn't say that she regretted any of it.

She had asked River for this and she had no one to blame but herself. She'd wanted an adventure and River had chosen a pretty civilised place, only to be ambushed by about a dozen Sontarans who claimed to have chased River through the last three planets.

River had, predictably, no idea what they were talking about so they both assumed that it was a future version of her, but even children knew that you couldn't reason with Sontarans no matter what your excuses were. And that was how Clara Oswin – who had considered herself nothing but a college student until this point – had ended up being portrayed as one of the most wanted criminals by Sontaran laws just because she happened to be in River's company.

River was the only one with a gun and the fact that she brought it anywhere with her spoke volumes, so Clara was mostly trying to cover her as much as she could as the other woman kept shooting haphazardly at their attackers. It was also logical that at least one of them had to catch her off guard – after all, there was only one River and about ten Sontarans left.

Clara saw the one behind her raise its weapon and knew that there wasn't a way out. That, even if she warned River about it now, another one would get her, so she didn't even have a choice to think about. Before she could start weighting her options – or her lack of any, really – Clara found herself pushing River aside and jumping in front of her, taking the several bullets that had been aimed for her lover.

The pain was so sharp, so shocking that for a moment, her brain didn't even register it. Then all of a sudden, her whole body was on fire and she was falling, falling and everything around her looked sharper than it had before; the sounds more pronounced and the colours brighter as River turned around to look at her and her eyes widened in horror.

Clara had always known that River was tethering on a brink that she could fall off of at any possible moment, and this was the moment she saw it happen. The unbearable sorrow in River's eyes hardened and turned to anger and then to some unholy fire that seemed to engulf everything else. She turned around and wretched the guns out of the hands of one of the Sontarans and started shooting at anything she could reach, twisting and turning like a dancer as she aimed her shots straight at their heads and, as the breath slowly left her body, Clara watched in awe as the creatures started falling around her.

River immediately dropped her guns and fell on her knees by Clara's side, holding her up and hugging her tight to her chest.

"Clara?" Her voice was trembling, her fingers sliding over Clara's cheeks and over the bloody wound in her shoulder. "Clara, please, talk to me. You've got to stay awake. We can get back to Luna – no, the travel will be too difficult – I'll call for help, just please stay awake."

Clara wanted to comply. She really did, but her eyes were closing and it took monumental effort to keep them open. "River." It wasn't a sentence; not even a plea or a protest. Just her name. "No time." Her mouth didn't really want to cooperate. It would have been annoying if there weren't so many things that hurt. "Just stay with me."

"Always," River mumbled, trying to keep her up. "Always." A sob wretched itself from her lips and Clara frowned. She had never seen River cry and didn't want to start now. "This is all my fault."

Clara tried to shake her head, but it seemed like too much effort. "No. I wanted to... I wanted this."

River shook her head. "Nobody chooses to die."

"No," Clara managed, taking in a shuddering breath. "But I can choose why to do it." When River looked like she wanted to object, Clara continued. "I thought it had to be him. I thought I was meant to save him, but I chose you. I saved you." Clara closed her eyes, trying to focus. "It's the most important thing in the world."

"What are you talking about?" River asked, voice barely more than a whisper.

"'S not important," Clara said and felt another jolt of pain mixed with relief when River pressed her lips against her forehead. She was safe here, despite everything; she was always safe in River's arms.

"I love you." The words were barely audible and yet to Clara, they were the centre of the entire Universe. She looked up, her eyes asking, and River smiled through her tears. "Did you think anything else? Of course I love you."

And here it was – peace at last. She'd lived for twenty-six years and each day of her life there had been this unease; the feeling that she had been broken and that parts of her own soul had been scattered around. It was gone now and the world had narrowed itself down to River's words and her grip on Clara's body.

And suddenly, nothing hurt anymore.

Have you got itchy bones

And in all your time alone

Can you hack your mind

Being riddled with the wrong memories?

Clara had only been on the TARDIS four times and yet, she couldn't believe that the Doctor had told her nothing of the library he had in there.

Of course, calling it a library was a bit of a stretch, because he had all sorts of junk thrown between – and onto – the shelves. Toys, strange small machines, books carelessly piled on the floor – which was, if you'd ask her, blasphemy, especially if one considered the sheer amount of them.

There was an open, cleared bit in the middle of the chaos that had several armchairs, a sofa and a large fireplace. Clara gripped the book she'd chosen – some fantasy novel from year 3645 that she fancied having a look at – and decided that the Doctor could survive on his own for a bit longer.

Just as she made to sit in the armchair closest to the fireplace – it was cold and she was only wearing a summer dress, considering it had been the middle of May back when she'd been in twenty thirteen – when she spotted it.

Right above the fireplace, there was a portrait. It was big enough to draw attention to itself immediately and Clara dropped the book on the sofa without even realising it.

There was something so familiar in the woman that it was almost overwhelming. In the painting, she was clearly lying down despite the vertical setting. Her hair was honey blonde and surrounded her face in a frantic cloud of curls. There was a subtle smile playing on her lips and her eyes were green-blue, the colour standing out even more in contrast with her long eyelashes. Her arms – what was visible from them, anyway – ended with small hands and long, elegant fingers that she held in front of her face. It wasn't hard to notice details when only her face was portrayed; her body wasn't shown.

Clara heard the door creaking in the distance – this was the biggest library she'd ever been in – and soon the Doctor approached quietly, only to freeze a few steps away from her, his eyes locked on the portrait and his face unreadable.

"Who is she?" Clara asked, generally out of curiosity but also because she wanted to get rid of the nagging feeling that she'd seen her before and yet couldn't remember where. She had to be important to be here. "You mentioned a granddaughter, is that–"

"No."

Oh. The other kind of important, then. Clara looked up at the woman again and wondered why someone like her – she radiated power and authority even from the portrait alone – would decide to have anything to do with someone as inadequate as the Doctor. "She's beautiful."

"That she is," he agreed and Clara turned around to an expression she'd seen only once before. "Oh, that's the one, isn't it?"

"I'm sorry?"

"The third time I came with you, I entered the TARDIS and found you all dressed up by the console and crying. You wouldn't say what was wrong but I figured out it had to be a woman. That's her, isn't it?"

He seemed to hesitate, and then there was a slow nod. "Yes, it is."

"Is she like you? A– female Time Lord?" Clara wasn't sure if that was the right term and he was quick to correct with, "A Time Lady. Yes, she was."

"Was? What happened?" The woman seemed nice, really, and Clara had no idea why she brought on such a reaction in the Doctor – and in her – especially since she could see tears in his eyes again.

"She's not around anymore," he said curtly and she didn't quite have the heart to ask if something had happened or if she had just left him Either way, the key point had apparently been a week ago and it – also apparently – still hurt, so she didn't push it any further.

The Doctor left a few minutes after that and left her alone in the library. Clara tried going back to her book but failed. For some reason, the half-Carrionite girl that happened to be the protagonist didn't seem all that intriguing when Clara's eyes kept going back to the portrait. She was inexplicably drawn by it, even though she realised it was ridiculous – she knew she'd never really met that woman. She hardly could have if she was from the Doctor's species and plus, the memory didn't even seem real. She couldn't remember her name and she couldn't even put a finger on where and when it had been where she'd seen her, and yet there was this warmth, this bizarre wave of comfort that brought a subconscious smile to her face as she stood up again and traced the woman's features with her fingers.

"Who was she?" She murmured. By now, she was well aware that the Doctor's ship was alive – and also that said ship didn't like her very much – but now she felt something else. Something like understanding and the feeling she was all too used to since her mother's death – the sorrow that couldn't be explained with words. "Oh, you loved her, didn't you?" Clara's voice softened. She still didn't like the ship, but she could at least sympathise with her. "Can't you tell me who she is?"

There was a wave of disapproval that was apparently meant to be the only response the TARDIS could give her. Clara frowned, but didn't say anything and looked up again, facing the portrait. Even through the painting, the woman's eyes seemed alive, the colour between green and blue looking like the sunlight dancing on a river's surface in a sunny afternoon.