Now
Danny sits on their bench, one leg crossed over the other. His foot swings back and forth in a regular rhythm. He finishes his crisps, scrunches up the packet and shoves it deep into his coat pocket. He watches the world pass by, sipping at his bottle of mineral water.
Clara leans her head on his shoulder, drinking juice lazily through a straw. It's sweet, almost too sweet, but if she drank a coffee as dark as she needs right now he'd probably ask questions. She's just spent three days running for her life and saving worlds, usually simultaneously. And the Doctor is the only person who knows.
She sighs, sips more overly-sweet orange juice.
"You okay?" he asks her. She feels Danny move under her cheek, knows he's looking down at her.
"Yeah," she replies, and that's true. "It's been a long day, I'm just relaxing." It's almost true.
"Okay," he says, faithfully accepting her answer. They lapse into comfortable silence again.
Their bench is in one of the busier spots of the park. There's a woman jogging past, her dog easily keeping pace beside her. Two families are out in the early autumn sunshine having picnics. A woman pushes a pram over crunchy orange leaves. It's busy, but as far as Clara is concerned it is the most peaceful place on Earth. This is the one place she doesn't expect the Doctor to appear with his magic blue box, tempting her into yet another amazing adventure.
The future or the past are of no consequence to Clara when she sits on this bench with Danny.
Despite her best efforts to stay awake, she can feel herself starting to doze. She shakes the carton, but all of her sugary juice is gone. She makes a little face that he won't see.
"This would be a nice spot for a picnic, wouldn't it?" he says, and by his tone of voice he's forming an idea in his head. He shifts on the bench and stands, holding out a hand for her.
The calendar on Clara's wall is the official one from the school and boasts a new boring photograph of a landscape for every month. The grass is always green and the sky is always blue. The only reason she uses it is because there is a lot of space to write notes for each day.
November's boxes are all empty except for one. Twenty-three. This box has lots of words, all crushed together. Some leak into the next day despite the writer's best efforts.
B-day picnic in
the park with me.
D
THE END
Author's Note: I wanted to write something light-hearted for the double birthday today of Clara and Doctor Who, but I've only succeeded in making myself sad. Sorry. So... thanks for reading. :)