Like the scientists of Jurassic Park, I scorn coming up with original ideas in favour of shamelessly standing on the shoulders of a story by Turn_of_the_Sonic_Screw on AO3. Hopefully it turns out better for me than it did for them.

Clara would be the most beautiful woman in the kingdom of Florin, but she wasn't actually from Florin. She didn't really have a home, but enjoyed having adventures and tormenting the man with whom she traveled. His name was Basil, but she never called him that. Especially when she was irritated with him.

As she was now.

'You daft old man! I was having fun! Why did you pull us out town?' Clara jogged after her companion, who was stalking down the road with long strides.

'Because you managed to insult all of the town elders in one go and they were this close to running us out of town with pitchforks and torches!' He held his thumb and forefinger a half an inch apart for emphasis, before stuffing his hands in his pockets and hunching his shoulders. It shouldn't have been possible, but somehow he managed to cover even more ground without actually breaking into a run.

'They were breeding an army of screaming eels! We couldn't just let them get away with it!' Not for the first time, Clara cursed the height difference that made it hard to keep up with him.

That issue became moot when he stopped abruptly, yanking his hands out of his pockets and scrubbing them through his fluffy grey hair. 'But I have a duty of care! You travel with me, so I'm responsible for your safety. I can't just stand by and watch when you put yourself in dangerous situations.'

'I never asked for that! I'm responsible for my own decisions, and I was fine!' She swung around and planted herself in front of him, glaring up at him as she invaded his personal space. She knew he hated that, but at the moment she was too angry to care.

'You were tied up, and they were lowering you into a tank of eels!' He didn't step back, but he did draw himself up to his full height, which was significantly more than her less-than-intimidating five-foot-one.

'I had everything under control!' She threw her hands up in frustration, barely missing smacking him in the nose, and whirled to stalk down the road.

This was how their adventures often went. He had maps of all the kingdoms, and together they traveled from town to town. The traveling wasn't the problem. The problem was that, more often than not, the towns they would stop in were usually embroiled in some deadly/nefarious/diabolical plot that threatened the lives of everyone in whichever kingdom they happened to be in. Sometimes all of the kingdoms at once. Naturally, they couldn't just stand by and watch that happen. Well, he could, especially if it meant keeping Clara out of danger. But Clara had no interest in being kept out of danger. She thrived on danger.

She wasn't exactly sure when he had decided he had a duty of care when it came to her. When they'd first started traveling together, they'd both run headlong into danger, laughing at every near-death experience. But apparently he'd thought she was dead one too many times, and the uncertainty of her safety triggered some kind of overprotective response. It wasn't something she wanted, and she'd die in one of their crazy escapades before she admitted it was something she sometimes needed.

They'd had to leave their horses in the last town – pitchfork-and-torch-wielding-mobs didn't wait politely while you stopped at the stable to collect your livestock – and it was several days until they reached civilization. After too many nights spent sleeping on the ground, all Clara wanted was to get a room in the local inn, have a bath for the next day or so in water that stayed hot the entire time, and then sleep in a soft bed for the next week. She didn't want any adventures, and she didn't care if he hovered protectively, as long as he did it in the hall or his own room.

He escorted her up to one of the rooms in the Rose and Crown, as if he was afraid some dire threat would leap out at her from the woodwork of the narrow staircase if she dared to ascend on her own. Now that her ire at being thwarted in her thrill-seeking had died down, she had to admit it rather sweet of him. She unlocked her door, then turned back to face him, leaning against the door frame. She was too tired to try and remain upright by herself.

'So what are you going to do for the next few days?' She knew he got bored easily, and she needed to recover her strength before resuming her role of keeping him amused and out of mischief…well, neither one of them every really stayed out of mischief, but he was perfectly capable of creating trouble when there was no life-threatening menace to combat.

'Well, this city is known for a drink called "coffee." I thought I might check it out; it sounds like it might be useful for restoring energy.' He stood with his legs spread and hands in pockets, his typical at-rest pose. He certainly didn't look like he needed an energy boost.

'If it's any good, bring me back some. I could use it. But not for a couple of days, at least.'

'Yes, ma'am.' He grinned and gave her a mock-salute.

'And don't get in trouble and get us run out of town. We need a week or so of quiet before we right any more wrongs.'

'That's what I tried to tell you at our last stop,' he muttered.

'I heard that. Do you have your cards with you? I doubt the people here are fluent in Grouchy Stick Insect like I am.'

He rolled his eyes, but pull a small stack of cards from his coat pocket and flourished them at her. 'Right here. I promise not to offend the locals. Go have a wash before you frighten them.'

She snorted. 'You always say the sweetest things.'

He started down the hall, but paused and turned back. 'Clara, please don't get yourself into any…situations while I'm gone.' She laughed, but he looked at her earnestly. 'I'm serious. I have a-'

'Duty of care, I know. Look, all I want to do is have a bath and sleep. There aren't many ways I could get in trouble doing that. I'll be fine.' He looked unconvinced, but she made shooing motions with her hands. 'Seriously, I'll be fine. Go fetch coffee.'

As he disappeared down the stairs, she yelled, 'And stay out of trouble yourself, old man.'

'Not if I can help it,' he called back.

When she emerged from her room a few days later, she was surprised to find that he hadn't been back to the inn since he'd left to find 'coffee.' She wasn't worried, though. It wasn't the first time he'd left her somewhere before, and it wasn't even the longest. He'd probably gotten distracted, but he'd be back. He always came back. After a few more days, she found out that he'd been kidnapped by a press gang and set sail on a small merchant ship called the Renette. She still wasn't worried – it wasn't the first time something like this had happened, and he'd probably sail back into port in a month or two. Knowing him, he'd be the captain, and he'd be bursting with tales of how he fought off sea monsters and pirates and pirate sea monsters. He'd be impossible to live with for the foreseeable future.

But then she heard that his ship was attacked by the Tardis, the ship of the Dread Pirate Doctor, and her world came crashing down. The Doctor took no prisoners. Not even Basil, grouchy, brilliant Basil, could escape being murdered by pirates on the high seas.

It wasn't until she knew he was dead that she realized that his duty of care fixation was his way of saying I love you, and what made it worse was that, in spite of their constant bickering, she loved him back. But it was far too late for both of them. She knew that she would never say those words now. They belonged to him. Since she couldn't say them to him, she would never say them to anyone else.

She locked herself in her room and cried for days. But crying wouldn't bring him back, and it certainly wouldn't support her in a strange town. She went to work in the inn's tavern, serving food and drink to travelers passing through. To people in the middle of their own adventures, the way she used to be. But she found that adventures no longer appealed, not without Basil to share them with and waddle after her like an overgrown penguin, flapping his arms and bleating about his duty of care.

She'd give anything to argue with him again.

It's probably a really bad idea to start this, when I already have two other fics in the works, but oh well. It's not like I have any distractions, like a life, or a job. Oh, wait...

As I said at the top, Turn_of_the_Sonic_Screw graciously gave me permission to piggy-back on the brilliant idea of a Princess Bride/Doctor Who mashup. I'm basing this extremely loosely on the movie. I believe Turn_of_the_Sonic_Screw is working on one that follows the book, so hopefully they won't be too similar. Except for, y'know, the obvious.

While I'm not fussy about Basil as a name for the Doctor, I do think it's better than John Smith. So I'll probably be using something like Basil Funkenstien as an alter-ego for the Doctor from now on.