NICE DREAM
He breathed in the alien air as soon as he got himself out of the TARDIS. Hold it in his lungs, tasted it, waited, and only then puffed out through his nostrils. Smiled, as warm pleasantly tickled his hearts. It was nice to be on another planet, any planet which wasn't called Earth to be precisely – too much pollution and worry in the air. The Doctor stretched his hands n' legs in all directions, not giving a single damn what other people would think. By now, they watched him with a curious look, he had no doubt of that, wondering what exactly this mad man was doing in a crowdy open market on Zetta-2.95. Why, he was stretching and smirking and breathing and enjoying his holiday.
Official holiday, mind you, so very rare in the university he works.
His official holiday, as he would have put emphasis on every time Nardole had been trying to sneak into the TARDIS.
Have your own holiday and stop spoiling mine, as he would have told Bill later, hearing her voice from the second floor.
It would be less than a day for all of you, you won't even miss me, he'd assured them both, closing the door in front of their noses, putting the first planet he could have thought of in the TARDIS destination and crushing on the lever to finally hit the road alone before they could have stopped him.
The Doctor strolled through the open market streets, surrounded by countless aromas: spices, fruits, alcohol, some kind of metal accessories or maybe even weapons, wooden wardrobes, sweaty bodies, sweets and dozens of dozens more as he was heading to the center of all of them. He already got lost the direction where he'd landed, his head was heavy, dizzy, almost as if he was drunk. He was overwhelmed with emotions. The Doctor smiled relaxedly, listening to the never-old music of every market in the Universe – chatters, whispers, bargains, flipping of coins. He had been right to come here.
Zetta-2.95 was good as ever, even though he couldn't see a bit of it.
"Aye, does that thing suppose to do that?" Bill asked him once, when he was playing guitar on the second floor of his beloved space-time machine.
The Doctor put the guitar aside, making sure it was stable enough not to fell on the ground, and appeared beside the console in one smooth way. He saw that there was some kind of flicker on the map. Bill pointed at the Hallam Street and gave him a look of excitement, hoping for an adventure – no more than a quick hop, the Doctor considered, but still a little adventure in her eyes. The dot kept flickering under her finger.
Interesting…
His first emotion was confusion. He barely recognized that little blue dot; he was staring at it with knitted eyebrows for whole 10 seconds, giving it this look and that, but it didn't ring a single bell of what it might be. But then again, you could hardly blame him for it, he didn't expect to see this kind of dot on Earth ever again. He thought the dot would think better than risking bumping into him.
"Shall we go and check?" Bill asked, anticipation all over her face.
Confusion turned to warm feeling in his hearts, and soon a little shy smile cracked on his face which he so desperately tried to hide.
"No. It's alright." He shook his head from side to side. It was perfect. If only he could get rid of Bill and go and check it alone… "By the way, why are you here at all? Shouldn't you be writing essays?"
Bill half-moaned half-chuckled. "I'm tired."
"Oh? You want me to give you one more 3000 words essay about tiredness?"
She put her hands in surrender and sighed heavily. "Alright. I've got your point." No adventures today.
"But you will tell me what was that, right?"
The Doctor chuckled. "Out of question."
"That's no?"
"No."
The Doctor waited for her to leave, fidgeting with pointless broken tumbler on the console panel. He was running out of patience and, when he finally heard the door to his office closed with a loud shut (probably intentionally so loud), he rushed to the navigation, put in coordinates, pushing buttons with such force they would not serve him another month; blood boiling in his veins, neurons sparkling with excitement – and stopped. Frozen on his spot. He was over flooded with emotions, felt warm flushing his upper-body and cold stoning his feet. He heard both of his hearts arguing whether or not he should do this.
She was here, on Earth. She did risk stumbling into him again, yes, but nevertheless she was here. And it was the first time he had seen her back on her home. The temptation grew even stronger as she was just in several miles away and now, not in another galaxy in 500 years. Oh, and how he would like to see her face one more time before her journey was over! To say that he remembered some parts of their adventures, to give a proper goodbye, to give a proper hug, to give a proper kiss, to see her smiling one last time because he had never got tired of that. Maybe to have a new adventure. Yes! One extraordinary adventure, one nice and unforgettable for both of them! One star for one impossible couple. Wasn't it what they wanted instead of pushing stupid buttons? Didn't they always get second chances?
But, some hidden part of the Doctor's mind stopped his trace. Wasn't that thing he was going to do wrong? He chuckled, more moral questions, just on time. Wonder what it's going to be today.
Weren't there suspiciously too many second chances for both of them? Wasn't it the time he should let Clara Oswald go, to terminate this obsession of impossible girl from Earth and just… let her be? This care hadn't ended good last time, almost destroyed the universe, didn't it? Left their hearts broken as well.
His eyes darted to the monitor. She was still there, still Clara Oswald. The woman who would never give him up, who would always trust and always forgive him no matter what, because he was the closest person to her, as she was the closest person to him. He couldn't just give up on her. He missed her.
Make up your mind, Doctor. Who knows for how long she was staying there.
Nardole rushed into his office, breathing heavily, the Doctor heard. "You have a lecture in one minute in another wing on the seventh floor, sir!"
The Doctor pushed down the space-time throttle as quick as possible before he changed his mind.
He used blue stabilizers for the first time so as not to make any sound when landing, he turned on a field making the TARDIS absolutely invisible – in one word, the Doctor made everything so Clara Oswald wouldn't notice him at the start. He wanted this to be a surprise, he wanted to pretend this was nothing but a mere coincidence. But then again, how naïve he supposed she was to believe such a story?! No, the Doctor chuckled, she wouldn't believe him. Of course she wouldn't.
He hold his breath, eyeing the street through the monitor. He couldn't see her TARDIS anywhere, perhaps, it was hidden as much as his. Was she inside or outside? There was no one like Clara, the street was almost empty because everyone was working, so where was she?
Anticipation stuck in his throat, the Doctor searched every corner of the street. He waited, but still there was not a single clue of her. Maybe his machine was faulty, some components of scanning system were rusty after decades of service. Maybe it was nothing but a program glitch. Maybe once again he was foolish and emotional. He touched a button, rescanning the area. The dot was still there, indicating her TARDIS, barely in front of him.
The Doctor held his breath, considered what he should say when he saw her, disheveled his hair excitedly and opened the door outside. Peered out hesitantly, but, seeing not a trace of her or her TARDIS, closed the door.
He punched the console angrily but lightly, as you would do when you see a frozen screen while browsing the Net. C'mon, what's the matter with you today, love?! The dot sparked once, twice, three times, he was comparing it with what he was seeing on the second screen showing the outside. He considered both screens with incomprehensible look. The scanner clearly saw her TARDIS, but the reality did not. Only he thought about looking outside again, when the dot vanished in front of his eyes.
His hand grasped his hair in a tight hold. What?! Oh. He checked the time when the dot had actually disappeared. It had been eight minutes ago. So she had been here, her TARDIS probably had dematerialized without a sound when he'd landed; it was just that… he'd messed up with time. Maybe it was because of his lack of concentration, while he had been all excited 'bout meeting her again; more likely it was because his TARDIS needed recalibrating and he was avoiding it for a very very long time.
He gritted his teeth, his knuckles white from tension. Did it really matter what was the reason of his mistiming?! He failed once again, just like when he'd let her die in the Trap Street.
The Doctor pushed the time-space lever down silently. Where was it, in another wing on the seventh floor, yeah? His shoulders slumped, hairs in a crazy state. When the TARDIS made a loud tut, he obediently forced himself outside.
In an enormous auditorium all eyes darted on him when the Doctor exited the blue box, which materialised out of nowhere in the middle of a lecture hall. He didn't care about what students would chatter about lately, how he magically had made some strange blue cabinet turn up on a stage. He sighed vanquishedly.
Well then, Doctor. Time to brace yourself and do your job.
"Let's talk about lost hopes, broken hearts, procrastination and the key role of time in all of it." With those words he had fished a marker out of his pocket and started the lecture.
The area of market where he was now – wherever it was at all – smelled of fried fish. It definitely was nothing like a fish, probably tasted worse than fish and had nothing to do with fish at all. Still, he liked it. It was a strong smell, itching his nose, making his stomach grumble as if it was the central gate to Hell. Probably he had more those annoyed glances by this time. But again, he didn't care. Not like they would throw him into prison for being hungry.
His tummy cried out for help. How long ago had he eaten properly? Was it yesterday or the day before? You can never tell when the day light and the night light are all the same for you.
No, he couldn't just bite into things he liked the smell of. As he reminded himself, it could be anything, he might be poisoned. It would be rather hard to go back to the university being dead, wouldn't it? Almost impossible. Nah, no food unless he saw it.
The Doctor chuckled. Unless he saw it was equal to not at all in this incarnation, which could possibly be forever. He sighed heavily and heard his breath reverberating through the street like it was the only thing for kilometers.
The Doctor scowled. He tried to find with his left hand some market stall but there was none. His hand touched rough surface of a wall, all in cracks and rips. He tried to search for something with another hand only to find a wall of another building in two meters. But the sound of the market was so close… Meaning, it was a trap street and he accidentally found it. Huh, that happens.
He heard a rustling somewhere ahead of him. Probably should leave it. He had already turned backwards when he heard something which sounded like crying and moaning. The Doctor didn't like the sound of it, not only because it was someone old, but because this someone sounded desperate, in need of help.
So, guided by the wall under his hand, the Doctor moved to the stranger.
"WHAT. YOU. LOOK. AT?" a deep voice asked him unkindly.
Hmmm. The way TARDIS translated it and the way the voice took a breath before pronouncing each of word, it could be strakokkonians, brute aliens with little arms and one long extra arm sticking out of the back. Probably female, but you can never be sure of that. Of what the Doctor was assured now: he/she needed no help from him. Strakokkonians' idea of food was somewhat… perverted, if you can call eating any race that wasn't theirs strange thing.
"I'd like to know that myself," the Doctor shrugged innocently and attempted to back away, only to bump into someone's chest.
"HU-MA-AN. TROUBLES," the one who was behind him groaned unpleasantly.
"Oh no, sorry, you see, that's where you're wrong. I'm not a human, I'm a Time Lord," the Doctor tried another way to retreat only to find out he was surrounded in a tight circle of four strakokkonians.
"IT. BRING. TROUBLES." He could hear someone split on his shoe. That was rude. But he decided against voicing it up.
"Ah, look. I see, not literally, where this is going and I don't want to be a part of it. But I'm blind, that's not what I usually admit I must say. I'm blind and I haven't got the faintest idea of what you've been doing here. I also see no way to escape you, fine fellows. So, if we could bargain somehow..."
"NOT. BARGAIN."
"HUMAN. NO. TROUBLES. NO."
"Yes! Listen to your fellow, he has a good point!" He felt his stomach frozen as they laughed loudly.
"NO. HUMAN. NO. TROUBLES."
The Doctor took another try to rush away, to break through the circle but it was too tight and he couldn't see where he was going. Some of strakokkonians experimentally pushed him back, then the Doctor exhaled sharply as another brute was a little bolder than the first one and kicked him in stomach. Playing with food was their famous ritual, to show their dominance over a weak. But they were hungry, probably hadn't eaten as much as a chicken with artificial intelligence. After some of them dared to smash his nose, his forearm stung with severe pain. The same pain clung to his leg, sharp teeth tearing his skin. They let him crush on the floor, not quite letting him.
And when the Doctor prepared himself to be hurt somewhere else, it was over. Strakokkonians ran away in all directions, and just as they did something heavy fell beside him.
He saw a faint silhouette rushing to his help before he passed out.
"Past or future?"
"It's all irrelevant, Doctor. You've got something on your mind already. I know you have. Making me believe it's my choice won't work this time."
He'd tried to hide his smile (how smart she was, this girl!) but she quickly had passed beside him, making it impossible. Then, their eyes had locked on each other, and he'd found her not cross at him; she simply had been smiling, too.
"So what's on your mind, old man?" she'd asked him, her hand gripping space-time throttle behind her back.
"Something you'd like, Clara." The Doctor'd let her push the throttle down.
It's not nostalgia.
Nostalgia is a word for something you can easily reconstruct. It would be appropriate to use when talking about films or good books, adventures. You will never identify nostalgia as something bad, it's just something that brings back good memories when you walk down that street or when you see that face. Nostalgia means you've left something in the past and let it go. You extract memories from your mind palace with ease. It's not haunting you, it's not chasing you in nightmares, it's not in every step you make, in every sip of breath you take.
Miss, on the other hand, is a strong feeling. You miss something that you're not ready to let go and yet somehow you should for your own sake. Miss is a thing that looming in your heart, the thing you're scared of the most. You don't know how far you would go to stop missing… or rather you know but don't want to.
The Doctor missed and it hurt, because he was confused of what he missed in the first place. All that was left after neuroblock were complicated feelings. Short retold story of their adventures by someone who was late for work and was in hurry. He knew how she talked, he knew how she looked or how she could smile sadly. He knew she was important for him. But there was barely anything to miss. And it scared him the most.
He couldn't control it. He couldn't stop missing.
And it was different. Not because there was something special about her or she was a little bit more important than Rose, than Martha, than Donna, than Amy, or than so many more before. Neither because it was a fresh wound, that she was one more cut on his hearts to stitch.
She was still somewhere out there.
Of course, as the Universe didn't collapse it meant she had returned to Gallifrey at some point.
But he could reach out to her for some time, for now. He could pick any dot indicating her location and time and let her pour into his life once again. Maybe he already had done that, in the future, and those planets she'd been visiting not alone but with him. He could risk checking his theory.
He could risk so many things to see Clara Oswald one more time.