A/N: SPOILERS ALERT! Yay! Another fanfiction in like forever! Hello, sweeties! I hope you like this one! I'm thinking of starting a fanfiction about TimeLady!Clara and Eight during the Time War and all that good stuff! Tell me what you think!
Clara shouldn't remember this. She shouldn't remember Gallifrey or The Time War. But she does.
And he wishes she didn't. More than anything.
The Doctor remembers her now, in Gallifrey as Romana's second in command during The Time War, different face then, of course, but still her. She was the one who told him to choose that faulty type-40 Tardis all the way back when he first began. She was the one who encourage Romana to travel with his fourth face and find The Key to Time. She was the one who sacrificed herself for him when he was Eight. And then again over and over.
All those times he thought he was all alone in the universe, she was always one grasp away. Just in the shadows, saving him, dying; always.
That type of never-ending torment he's never known.
But she does.
The Doctor closes his eyes tightly, rubbing his forehead in despair. Why?, he thinks, why her? Why Clara? He knows, of course, it couldn't be anybody else. She was the only one.
Now he doesn't know what to do. What should he do? Should he comfort her? He doesn't how.
He groans and kicks the console in frustration which producing a low rumble in the Tardis.
He'll make it up to her later. Clara was his number one priority right now.
She was in the Library.
Of course, he thinks with a sad smile.
The Doctor hesitantly creeps inside. And there she was, curled up on the floor right by the Gallifreyan vases, surrounded by the many Gallifreyan books and journals. Her hand was tightly clutching a pen and she was trying to write something roughly on a piece of paper. He watched her for a while, until she grew frustrated, threw the paper away and cried out: "Damn it!" Then she started sobbing, and his hearts broke.
The Doctor hurried to her side, wrapping his arms around her and whispering: "Hey, hey. What's wrong?"
"I can't - I can't" She tried to say but her breath hitched.
"Sh, sh. It's okay." He said, holding her against him while she cried.
He continued whispering sweet nothings into her ear until her crying subsided, and she simply laid there against his chest, hearing the sweet melody of his hearts.
She's missed this.
Out of all her lives, the one in Gallifrey was the longest and the one she holds dearest. She doesn't really know why; maybe it's because she saw how The Doctor began, or maybe because she lived (more than) a full lifetime. Or maybe because she felt at home there.
She doesn't know.
"I can't write… I - I forgot." She finally breathes, her voice breaking at the end.
The Doctor tightens his hold on her, sighs and kisses her hair. Oh Clara, he thinks as he feels his hearts break for this girl. his girl.
"Let me help you remember then." He says, as he pulls away from her reluctantly and gets the paper and pen back.
And they spend their time in that spot on the floor, surrounded by lost history who only they knew about. The one thing he couldn't share with anyone else anymore.
He wasn't alone anymore. He doesn't think he ever really was.