Ring ring, ring ring.

Click.

"Hello?"

"…Hi. It's me again."

Clara slowly cracked open her eyes, letting the brightness of the glinting morning light that cracked through her bedside window fill them. She squinted, the radiance too much for her sleepy pupils to take in at this moment as she swung her legs around and felt a crispy coolness hit her toes as they wriggled from beneath the duvet covers of her single bed. Most people might have groaned, gripped the cotton in their hands and yanked the waves of quilt back over their heads so early as 8 in the morning on a weekend- but not Clara- she had become a morning person over the last few weeks- she was so used to the Doctor's spontaneous visits in his queer outfits now (though she hadn't been at first- with all his odd, quirky bow ties and tweed jackets, she had to check she wasn't dreaming every time he turned up at a ridiculous hour)-

Of course, things were different now. The squared, geeky klutz had been replaced by the man she knew now- and she was sure she'd have felt more warmth in the company of an iceberg than him. Although it had only been 2 weeks ago she had last seen him, and first seen him. She remembered the phone call she had had with her Doctor, and how it brought a flickering hope into her mind- or something, at least. But she still couldn't see the aged, lean man who was now a distant silver puff of smoke in her memory as her Doctor.

In some ways, she almost hoped she wouldn't see him again.

Almost.

It didn't take her long to get dressed- she decided to wear the dress her friend had picked out for her last weekend with some fishnet tights- it was dark navy blue, and reached her knees so that they were just concealed. She threw a black bomber jacket over this, and slipped out of her bedroom, the soft carpet rubbing against the balls of her feet as she managed to glide down the stairs hurriedly and make a sharp turn, heading straight for the kitchen down from the stairs.

The temperature cooled a fair bit, and the thick, fluffy carpet turned into hard, clean, icy tiles as she tiptoed over to the bread bin and pulled out a breakfast bar, less caring for food and more interested in clicking down the button on her sleek coffee machine. The old thing needed replacing, it was rambunctiously loud and rattled about to a hazardous extent- but she didn't have the heart; it had been an old pastime off of her mum before she had moved out, and the coffee it made still tasted steaming hot and delicious (though occasionally had a hint of gasoline in it's taste, for a reason she could never fathom).

The machine whirred so furiously in fact that Clara didn't hear the rapid knocks on her thick front door- not the first time at least. When they ensued again far louder, however, her eyebrows arched in sudden surprise, and she briskly made her way over to the door and swung it open- and there he stood.

Seeing him now was so odd, she had forgotten all the little details this new form held. He had a sharp look about his slender frame, and it almost frustrated her that she had to look up a couple of inches to meet his face- His face, which held the slightest hint of amusement from the twinkle in his eye and the tug of a grin at the corner of his mouth. His silver hair was cut short, and sharp, but some how managed to seem rather unkempt- she made the assumption (a correct one) that he had not attempted to brush it since the conundrum in Victorian London.

She didn't know it, but she had been staring at him blankly for several minutes, and just as he was about to open his mouth to say something, a thought hit her, and she furrowed her brow, hands quickly rising to be placed on her hips, "Where the hell have you been? Do you know how hard it is to find the train station in the middle of Cardiff?" She complained, and he arched his eyebrows, taken aback by her sudden outburst.

Clearing his own throat, he raised his hands to reveal the cardboard tray of coffee cups he held, "I went to get coffee, remember?" He defended, and she narrowed her eyes, arms folding, "I have my own bloody coffee on the go thank-you very much- that was two weeks ago- Doctor." She found herself hesitating as she used his name, and she knew she'd have to spend some time alone at some point to confront herself on her identity crisis with him.

At her last comment, he opened his mouth and shut it several times in an attempt to come up with a response, before Clara chuckled lightly and rolled her eyes, "Come in. I have some coffee ready, take a cup from the cabinet if you want, it's the one under-" The telephone in her hallway cut her off, and she spun on her heels, walking towards it and quickly gesturing for him to continue in, "It's probably just a sales marketer or something." She murmured, before picking up the phone and placing it against her ear,

"Hello?"

"Hi. It's…me again."

Something about the voice on the other end was like a blow to the stomach, but one that came from an invisible force.

"I… who is this?" She questioned, glancing nervously over to the Doctor to see him preoccupied with finding the right cupboard,

"Surely you remember me, Clara… my impossible girl." Of course- His voice; she could recognise it anywhere,

"Do-" Remembering who she was in the company of, she thought it best not to say the name, "You're with me now… is it you?"

"More than ever. You might be glad to hear my voice again-"

"When am I not?"

"But you shouldn't be. You know just as much as I do that I shouldn't be talking to you now. You know what's supposed to happen." At this, a feeling of utmost dread filled Clara. The Doctor continued,

"Something's gone wrong. I don't know what, I don't know how- but time isn't moving, if you understand."

"I… I don't think I do."

"Everything has stopped for me, Clara. Everything in my point of time has completely frozen and you were the only person I could contact. That's why you can't say anything yet. The Doctor that's standing with you doesn't know you are talking to me, because- well, if I'm honest, I can't give an explanation. The only thing I can say is that whatever is going on here? It's going to be like this for a while, which means we have enough time to figure things out."

"How do you know?"

"Because I've been counting perceived time- it's been two days since everything stopped, and that's why I needed to ring you. I needed to get some help from my companion, for one last adventure- unfortunately, it's going to have to be over phone."

Even considering the predicament, Clara couldn't help but smile- the thought of an adventure with her Doctor even when she couldn't see him was a comfort to her.

"Where do we start?" She smirked,

"I need you to check the date that I am at. 25th of December, 2013."

"Should be easy enough, I can do it now-"

"No. Not on a computer… this is where it gets a little tricky. I don't know how, but you need to find a way to check on the TARDIS systems. The screens?"

"The screens… right. How?"

"It's easy enough once you start them up, the hard part is managing to do it. You can't get me- The Doctor to do it. I don't know what effects this has had, but something tells me that it would be best if you avoided the events in Christmas to him. And whatever you do, don't say a word about me, or this conversation. I'll ring back tomorrow- and I'll have an estimate of how long we have then."

"…Okay. Be careful." She murmured, worry beginning to set in.

"I will. Goodbye, Clara Oswald!" He chirped, his voice filled with life, "I Lo-… I look forward to talking to you tomorrow- and to seeing you soon." He smirked, before muttering something about Christmas as he hung up.

Turning around, she yelped to see the Doctor standing there, two mugs of coffee in his hands, and a single eyebrow raised, "Odd conversation. Who was that?"

"Oh… just an old friend who needed a little help looking something up." She replied casually.

Of course… it was the truth.