*I don't own anything!
This is a my first Whouffaldi fic, hope you like it! It's going to be a multi chapter, and I hope your cash tell me what you think. Please enjoy.
Chapter 1
The quiet and its the silence was a threatening thing. It meant more room for quiet reflection and repetitive thoughts, fortississimo, heavy, drowning thought. For every breath there was lie hidden behind her tongue. Every honest declaration stung harder, and anything could go wrong.
How many days had it been since he had gone?
They had fought, it was expected.
Relaxation after one of their adventures didn't seem like too much. Not like she would ever give up the heart stopping adventures, but this time she really needed it. She wanted time to figure out how to say correctly what they were to each other. Everyone always asked, and she wanted a better answer then platonic male alien who was her best friend. They were confusing.
Of course he didn't know about it, and of course she didn't tell tell him.
She was not sure if time was a specific element or if he really was a bored, reckless, lonely old man. Sometimes he carried on in such a way that made it hard for her to deal with him, and then he'd show her the greatest sights and she'd forgive him because she couldn't hate him, even if the face wasn't what she grew to love at first. Now, it was just a confusing mess and he deserved to at least learn to notice. So she lied, and slammed into real life again.
Several days, always running, her work, life going on, almost like a sad love song. Remove the love from the equation, and all that remained was simple persuasion. Recurring thoughts wanted her to turn back and make him see it, but he just wouldn't understand, it wasn't his way. All the grey matter in her cerebral cortex couldn't deny, he tattooed his essence, his alibi. What was he to her, best friend, alien, or hobby? It made her feel woozy, he was a bit snobby. He led her to provocation, she was his carer, he was her fixation.
She wanted this break, a vacation, but it wasn't much fun at all. Some would say she looked a bit flush, her glow a bit lost. The students teased except Courtney who now knew better, reminded every time she glanced at the moon. And life went on.
The breeze didn't carry with it the Tardis hum, the dry wit and incorrigible beside manner, and the scraggly eyebrows. So good at lying she was, that she wore them like a disguise. The days dragged on, the glances at the clock repeated themselves, and so tired, her tired was tired.
A humans life is very dull, and Clara almost deserved it. Clara almost didn't deserve it, but life carries with it a special call, quality reserved. Yet it's almost true for the tiny school teacher, never to refuse a trip, not always one with time, unless you count a spaceship. To fill the blanks which needed occupation, she'd need another fixation.
Everyday was a learning experience with withdrawals, looking out the window like in a music video, and books without Wally. Addiction, she was inflicted, her temper bitter, her words biting if spoken to the wrong way. Yet, no one saw it, they didn't know, she was simply the English teacher, carrying the image of him.
Flipping through photos, he wore his grumpy face more often then not, but it was endearing in the most wonderful way. She had grown to like his face, it was amusing, it was her addiction. He could say everything and nothing without saying a word and she'd get cross without explaining. It was almost what made her enjoy his company that made her cross. She almost missed him, almost because it was her fault, it was her whim. And so she waited, and waited, and waited. Another day passed, and the young school teacher came home, she kicked off her shoes, and did all the very dull things she needed to do. There was a draft around the place, and the fish needed feeding, and it was weekend.
Powdered pastels painted the kitchen cabinets, now missing someone to clean the dishes. She remembered when he kneeled to watch the laundry finish, his plans like bubbles upon her ears. The goldfish watched over like tradition of whoever entered and left the kitchen. How many times was he there? It really was a crowded kitchen, with dishes, and cups, so many let downs and pick me ups when he was there. All the cups of afternoon tea trying to figure him out, and the tea it took to find where he was, the kitchen missed it.
Passing her mirror, looking herself over, she was letting herself go. How she stood there when he offered Brighton as a destination, how she was too preoccupied with prettiness and not with the Doctors confused owl look, how blankly he looked when she asked him about her looks and how delighted he looked just moments when he was making plans. He didn't notice, she was barely a woman, perhaps a child to him. Thinking back, she should have gone with him, it would have been better then the tradition of dinner with Danny, what terrible division. The Lagoon of Lost Stars would have been a worthy distraction, if only she knew addition and not subtraction. Those days had past, they were different now, almost like a farmer with a blue cow.
The mirror was a grievance.
In the evening she laid for bed, she was tired, a pile of marking near her head. How many dead trees were really the marking? Thank goodness for the days the trees happened. Like the flares that almost took away every bright little eye of her class that day. He wanted to save her, the Doctor tried hard, but she held on tightly to human kind. Death didn't follow, but it remained a reminder, to be kind to trees and they will be kinder. The desperation which almost swept her away, which almost said yes, but it would have been wrong, even if the right thing felt wrong, everything didn't make sense.
They laid in wait for another day on her desk, almost taunting her in a way. She was really tired, and wanted to sleep, her clothes hugged her softly, leaving her a wave of comfort as she closed her eyes to sleep a deep sleep. And yet, her mind traveled, it raced, it wanted to be free of its surroundings and take on a pace unlike the one naturally borne to a girl of 27 from Blackpool. Toss and turning, the duvet hung desperately to the side of the bed, wide awake like a cup of coffee. It simply wouldn't do, it never did.
She attacked the work that needed marking, twelve past nine and counting. The clock laughed as she turned her head to steal a glance, there still was a chance. Sleep, restful dream, it was a simple action her body wouldn't obey. Being the human that she was, an evening stroll or a quick run might have helped, but not what she was willing to do. Her wants didn't supersede natural occupation.
A distraction promised to ease her thoughts and to shift her focus on not so workday things; it's funny what a novel brings.
Fingers curled around a cup of coffee and a good book, nothing sounded better then a quick read before the monstrous thoughts would bleed their terrible woes upon her memory. With a sigh, she felt deeply as Mr Darcy proclaimed his love to Elizabeth, and yet if he acted in a more gentleman-like manner, then perhaps that would have been the end to a good story and thank goodness that he didn't.
The original romantic comedy, reminded her so of a blankness of feeling, a hand to hold, a boyfriend to get on about the day, to pop off absurdly in wondrous ways. Danny, a guilt that remained a stain to her soul. How could she start over, and lies wash away to honesty? The book was a pause, giving time to herself. However additional warmth interjected, as well as the reminded annoyance of being proved wrong before her class. The doctor as the caretaker, those were the days, those silly cheerful days. No more, no more thoughts of yesterday, and back to her book, whatever splendid thing could wait.
Lighthearted words danced before her eyes, a few laughs escaped her lips at times, and even tears threatened to make an appearance. She was in her element, but of course, peace is fleeting, and was swept away by the familiar hum of the materializing Tardis bleating.
Inside his blue box, he flirted with the controls, making a full stop. His mind full of plans and schemes, he could almost surrender to them. Wonderful troubles he always brought even if he wasn't leading. It had been over a week and he thought that was enough time for her "Thing". The last they met, she complained about not doing the laundry and how it piled up. However, once he thought it over, it didn't make sense. He had modified the contraption to wash better, faster, and make toast. No more, no more waiting, he was bored and he was going to see Clara. Yet, he felt a slight chill, thinking that perhaps it was something else. Perhaps the time had finally come when she had enough of it all and wished to live the boring, quiet, short civilian life like most humans do.
Running his fingers through his hair, and giving his jumper a good tug, he was ready. No trouble for now, it would be fine, and Clara would be excited. What bliss it would be to count the many of things he could reminisce.
Wonder, curiosity, and terrible annoyance hung in her throat as she shielded her eyes from the flood of clouded light spilled from the open Tardis doors. She could swear someone had it in for her at times, not terribly so, but at times inconvenient. She should have known better, but her heart adhered to silent agreement.
As expected the doctor popped out, his tired face twisted in a smile once considered so vile, but a moment changed her reserve, the call that waited for a time, it changed her, and it was what she truly needed. Its expected that he'd visit when he wanted, though sometimes she didn't deserve unwanted intrusion. He watched her lie upon her bed. thinking laziness had been wed. "Clara this is no time to laze about. Up, up, places to go, people to see"
Only a thief, a borrower, and a man would waste her time, even if he meant her well. She was glad, but her happiness was cross before she knew it's meaning, with dagger of a tongue to leave the hearer bleeding. "What are you doing? Do you always enter bedrooms without profession?" Was her biting reply as she looked upon him in disbelief.
Thinking it over, he offered his hand. "Only yours"
He wasn't getting what she meant, it only made her crosser. "Go away"
"I'm here to take you on an adventure."
Good grief.
There was a brilliance about his eyes, an energy in base of his skull, careless wonders in his disguise, a gentle warmth about the floor. His air so lofty, hair do silly, his brow a riddle, wrapped in a coat of stupidity. An irritation in the flesh, a spirit full of beauty. And yet, the timing not so precise, threatening the peace comedy bestowed, she knew she should be glad, and many things that she owed. And things she never had came with surprise, all the things she never said were hidden in her eyes.
Rubbing at her temples, a nonexistent headache ached at the utter stupidity, even gladness lost patience in certain ways. "No, no, no, you don't get to do this."
Snapping her fingers, the Tardis closed on his coat tail to her satisfaction. "It's thirty minutes past ten"
Looking blankly at her, his owlish gaze, "I know, so come into the Tardis", as though her immediate obedience to be expected. Clara looked him over, not ready to budge, waiting to see what else he could think of. He could be clever with a little thought, but the blank look said something different.
Snapping his fingers, he pulled out the wrinkled coat tail. "Anywhere in time," he paused to smooth it out to no avail, then looked back up "your pick", like it was syncopation.
She couldn't control it, it was only getting worse as he kept talking. He wasn't sorry, he didn't say he missed her, it was only a matter of convenience. "Yeah, we are not going there, sorry about the coat, but no"
"I have a whole day worked out"
The look, it almost broke it, but it just wasn't enough. "Sorry I got plans"
"Do you?"
"It involves a little sleep, perhaps you've heard of it?"
"What about the Thames? We could go to the frost fair?"
The last time they went it was another wonderful adventure, and she wouldn't have minded going again. Besides, his period clothing really made him look sharp. Yet, even that wasn't enough. "I'm tired, don't you care? I've got dark circles under my eyes because of you"
"What are you talking about?"
Pointing them out about her face, "These", she said as she made circles around her eyes, who knew the trouble that applied to an earthling woman. "It's because of our late night adventures that I got them" she complained, her brow a fluster, it was a pain.
She was talking, her mouth moving a mile a minute, but there was just a spirit of indifference this time that stung loudly. Nothing, not even a hair out of place really seemed any different. Her roundish face glowed, and Byron came to mind. And on that cheek and o'er that brow, so soft, so calm, yet eloquent, the smile that wins, the tints that glow.
The rest he couldn't remember. She continued to circle around her eyes, nothing was really there. Yet, if she mentioned it then it had to be true, though he didn't care. "Who cares, you look fine"
"And because of you I look so painted in"
Something was off, but he didn't scan her, it would be cheating. Taking a seat at the makeup table, he started to play with a kabuki brush. All around were jars and various powders, few silver tubes that proved to be nothing but colored wax, all of it seemed a bit much. She colored her face with them, but he saw no reason for it. Clueless to why one would have so many, he scanned the lot, the results were not pretty. Then he wondered why such toxic paints were applied to her face when she clearly didn't need them. It was a darting thought, but it made some sort of sense, either way he needed to know."Who do you need to look good for?"
"Seriously? What about myself, or is that the question?"
"Then shouldn't you be putting your face on? I wouldn't recommend it, these are really bad for you"
"You have it all backwards, no because it's late, and I'll see you later"
Waving the brush around, a bit of powder clouded the air. "Come on, I got a thing, you won't want to miss it and now the air is toxic so you're going to need a gas mask. You don't want to sleep with a gas mask on do you? So why not pop into the Tardis where the air is fresh and clean?"
"Put that down, and all that stuff is hypoallergenic"
"The screwdriver says otherwise"
"Seriously? I paid a lot of money for those"
"Why don't we pop into the Tardis and go to Egypt where you can get all natural stuff? You should see what they did for Cleopatra, they darkened her eyes and practically disguised her. Just like Rome wasn't built in a day neither was Cleopatra's face."
Looking back down at the silver tubes and powders, another thought popped into his head. Could it be possible? "Unless.."
"Unless what?"
Could the tiny human actually be in search of a boyfriend? It was possible as was common for earthly courting rituals, though the meaning had changed a bit throughout the centuries. Nonetheless, he was equally curious to know. "Are you following ancestral rituals and putting on your best battle paint and getting ready for the kill?"
"What are you talking about?"
"Are you hunting for a boyfriend and or getting ready to go for the hunt?"
"No"
"Or did you already find one and you want me to go because you are expecting company?"
"I don't have a boyfriend"
Pretending to put makeup on, he said slyly "What about Adrian? Reminds me of a dashing young time traveler I know. I could go ahead and check his prospects."
"Doctor we've been over this, he is not my type"
"Actually I've already looked ahead, and he's still dashing with his graying hair"
"It doesn't matter because I'm not interested"
He wasn't thoroughly convinced, and it bothered him slightly at her reaction. She didn't like the grey hair, but that was expected, he didn't really had use for it either. His reflection looked back at him, unsure, unaware, undeniably old. Was he really repulsive and she couldn't look at him anymore? Perhaps she finally woke up and saw that it wasn't worth the effort, and it really was the end. He couldn't give up, there was so much more they had to do.
His quiet intruding presence alone annoyed her, and she threw her butterfly pillow with incredulous force. "Go away," she whined, "all I want was to read my book"
Catching the pillow, he scanned it then replaced it as soon as results proved inconclusive. Perhaps she was already suffering from lead poisoning and now she couldn't think straight. From his inner pocket he pulled out a mask. "If I'm going to save you from yourself then I can't get infected"
"Would you stop it! I'm fine, my makeups fine, and everything is fine"
Removing his mask he scanned the air, it was livable. He forgot to take into account the central air. Looking for other reasons to drag her away, he caught sight of the book sitting nearby. "Pride and Prejudice? You've read that already haven't you?"
She's read it a dozen times.
"Perhaps I wanted to read it again"
She was in one of those moods where she didn't feel up to anything, but who else to know better then a doctor to know the cure?
Taking a seat on the side of the bed, he took it and jumped back on his feet. "Come on, you can read in the Tardis"
Her face a pout. "I hate you"
He really hoped she didn't mean it, so he laughed it off. "I know you don't mean it"
Opening the doors, he leaned against it. "Remember Clara. you're my carer, who else is going to care so I don't have to?"
She really was being cruel, and he was trying in his own way. The look in his eyes really got her, and she felt her anger diminishing. A promise of adventure was always inviting despite the effects on her complexion. Despite the audacity, she smiled her little smile and followed. "Alright old man, I'm coming"
Victory, though a tiny one meant a traveling companion to do whatever, wherever in space. His joyful hearts leaped in quiet expectation, his hands grazed over the control panels, burning to set off on an adventure. Impatience welled in his feet and hands as he waited for her response. She was quiet, it disturbed him. "What's the matter?"
"Just having one of those days, traveling with a madman, questioning my sanity"
"Isn't that everyday?"
"Exactly. It's nothing you would bother with even if it's your fault"
"Have you thought of where'd you like to go? Anywhere?"
"Somewhere magical is always at the top of my list. However, it's always let's save a planet from an impending invasion, or running from lasers, or fish people. Really, what can top Jane Austen?"
"More interesting then Jane Austen? Let's see, we could go to Egypt, Crocodileopolis, they worship crocodiles hence the name. Why are you complaining? You were planning on wasting a night lounging around, for boyfriends that may or may not visit. Why not cite Shakespeare as the universe tears itself apart, scare a volcano, become a sacrifice. Anything to drown out the boredom"
"Who said I was bored?"
"Nothing to be ashamed of, completely normal reaction."
Scanning the control panels, he sighed. "Anyway, I thought it would be better to go on a quick trip, clear the synapses"
"This was the thing? You're bored and your dragging me along? I knew it"
"I hadn't seen you in a few days, and you were busy with your laundry, and pride, and whatever, and now you're not busy. It will be quick I promise, then you can sleep as long as you want and dream about your boyfriend"
Darting upstairs, she sank into the brown recliner, a grey hair clinging to her sweater. Picking off the intruder, she sighed. It was a sighing sort of day. He really missed her, but she spent so much time being cross that she really hadn't found the right way to go about it. It made her exhausted, but she couldn't tell him, it would only make things worse.
This time she didn't reply the Doctors taunt, and he understood that he was being rude again, and not as funny as he would have liked. He could hear her prolonged sigh as she flipped through the pages of her book. She wasn't pleased, she hadn't been for a little while and it was off-putting to try to figure her out. She looked a bit flushed once he took a real good look, and there was a small redness around her eyelids that wasn't there before. A pang of disappointment wanted to creep in, but it was scared away by the all too wonderful question. "So where are we going?"
His face tugged into a smile once more, and its effect greatly encouraged his playfulness. "Don't know, you're the control freak, you tell me."
That was wrong, but right, but wrong. He had to make it better, but that was the question.
"I am not a control freak" she retorted
"Yes you are."
Running upstairs, hints of his shampoo teased her nose as he passed. She should have known better then to invade his study with its home feel and perfect lighting.
He paced, going over his past notes, erasing things here and there. His various blackboards full of notes and scribbles gave him a thought, then he remembered the Listen from his last theory about nightmares. He wasn't listening, that was the problem, kind of always had been. Susan flashed into his mind just then, and he remembered they had argued about their choices when they had to deal with the Sensorites.
Emotions were another thing he didn't take into account. What if she was missing P.E, or if she was giving him the five minutes and he interrupted. He really was an idiot.
She pretended not to bother with him, but every few moments she would glance up, spotting him with the chalk in his thin fingers, paused in the middle of thought.
"Do you ever wonder why we dream? He thought out loud
"I just assumed everyone did that?"
"This isn't the nightmare thing a few months ago, I mean regular old dreams"
"I'm not sure what you mean"
Her eyes blinked at an irregular rate, her face tense in an odd way, that was the answer.
"Interesting" he muttered as he went over the needed calculations.
"Hmm, what is?"
He didn't answer, his mind was a flurry of calculations and ideas. The scratch of chalk was a fairly pleasing sound, him thinking in his peculiar way, but something else grabbed her attention. Eyebrows, they dominated his face, they held her attention, nothing but a mess of eyebrows to entertain her bored mind as they danced in their odd little way. Serious eyebrows were always on call while the happy eyebrows were usually on holiday.
Traveling through all of time and space still had its moments, its peculiarities. There were moments when even the doctor wasn't sure where to go. Watching the way his brow furrowed while he was thinking, Clara thought out loud. "Doctor, can you dream? Do you actually do that"
Scribbling faster, he tried to keep up with thinking over the question without giving away the surprise. Glancing away from his blackboard, he gave her the look, the do-really-to-answer-this look. She felt the flush of embarrassment, a bit thrilling and frightening, but she had to finish what she started. "Do time lords sleep or is there no time for that?"
"Dreams are successions of images, ideas, emotions, and sensations that occur usually involuntarily in the mind during certain stages of sleep. Everyone dreams Clara, even rocks dream, but that is a different story. Why? Is this about the dream crabs again?"
Hopefully it wasn't dream crabs, and remembering it was upsetting and made him sigh.
"Yes and no."
She was confused again, and her cheeks carried that unnatural redness. If only he could use his screwdriver, but she hated it when he analyzed her, besides it could have been menses. He played it cool with his serious face, "Tell me, it can't be that farfetched"
"It's just, I don't know, I never thought about it before. I mean, what do you dream about? Is it weird or do you dream about the usual stuff like showing up to school in just your knickers?"
Taking into account the information, he didn't want to admit it. "Underwear: An article of clothing which, when kept clean, ensures the wearer will never have an accident."
"Knickers, underwear, whatever. Do you dream about them?
Everyone did, but he wasn't going to answer it. "Knickers? Who shows up to school in just their knickers? Can you imagine if Calvin Klein thought it was a good idea if you exposed him for all the world to see? No, of course not"
"I guess that only works if you're David Beckham. Hmm, so you dream about weird stuff, I knew it. Must be free radical, radioactive knickers, from the planet Landros, where they get on and grow on trees made of nothing but the whispers of hermit crabs"
Dropping the chalk, he placed his hands on the arm rest of the chair, a little too close for comfort. Internally, she remembered she forget her ChapStick. "Do you really want to know?" Was his breathless question, having no respect for personal space.
He had that look in his eyes, the determination, the wonder, waiting for her to make up her mind. His jumper sparked as the lamp light touched it, he really looked brilliant.
It was over thirty seconds and she still hadn't answered, she really was letting herself go. She looked uncomfortable, was it his breath? Could she smell all the jelly babies he just had?
"Does my breath stink? Is that why you look unhappy?"
He really was uncomfortably close and he didn't know what he was doing to her. Anyone watching would have thought it odd, for from a certain angle he looked ready to kiss her, but he was just waiting for the answer in his naive sort of way. He didn't know that he was being confusing, or that she might fancy him, he only wanted her to be happy, to fix the problem. He backed away soon after to Clara's relief, and she answered. "About your underwear, no thank you"
She didn't say anything about his breath, it must have been the problem. "No not that, something else"
Running off, he brushed his teeth and gathered the necessary supplies.
She sat there catching her breath, slightly disappointed. Was he really going to...No, that wouldn't happen unless... Unless he finally noticed that she was a girl. No one stands that close and asks about their breath unless... He was into her?
No, she planned to play it cool, and try not to scare him away.
Returning with a big box he set it down and it was explanation time. "Put that helmet on"
"Why?"
"You don't want to?"
What if the weird equipment was part of a ritual? What if this meant complete acceptance? She wanted to try it, but she was wary. "Depends, will it hurt?"
"It will be like dropping a piano"
Putting the helmet down she sighed. It really was confusing, and he was being ambiguous. "Is that part of it? I don't think I'm ready for that kind of commitment"
"What are you talking about?"
"Didn't you say you were dropping a piano?"
"No, transcending dreams. You know Clara, you're losing your touch"
He regretted saying that, but he had to keep the natural flow or she would know that he knew. "What if everything you thought you knew was nothing but static scratching the inside of your eyeballs and implanting images of gobbledygook while you think you're holding hands with the prince of mars? Who by the way is happily married to his fifty wives, so I wouldn't recommend it unless your planning to be a blind concubine"
"Just get on"
"What if you were really drowning in a sea of amber, and those rose colored thoughts were nothing but a blink in a another existence?"
"I don't always dream, sometimes I just sleep"
He knew. Sometimes he would even watch, but she didn't know that.
"But what about during the day when you think you're awake but you're daydreaming? Is it your mind on energy saver mode, or is it just white noise?"
Shrugging her shoulders, she watched as he ran around, gathering things here and there. Handing her the helmet, he gestured. "Put it on, it won't bite much"
Then he proceeded to put one on as well. "What are we doing again?"
"You're going to enter my dreams, only to observe. You must not interfere with my subconscious, and I must warn you, there are parts that I don't remember, and dark places I rather not remember so be gentle."
She was disappointed again, and he didn't get it "Does it work the other way around?"
"No, it shouldn't. Anyway, there is nothing to worry about. And if you see John, then remind him he's an idiot"
"Who?"
"You'll see. I'm now going to do a mental link with you, remember, piano."
"When this is all over, we need to talk"
Her face was in such distress that he thought she finally decided it was all over and this was their last adventure. He smiled weakly, and flipped the switch. "Goodnight Clara"
That was it, when it was over things were going to change. Laying back she flipped the switch. "Sleep well doctor"