AN: Sometimes Clara tries to remember all the other soufflés that followed her recipe.
The Doctor seemed to be asleep. That couldn't possibly be right. The Doctor never slept. He almost never even closed his eyes. Yet there he was, snoring softly in the chair beside his console. Clara couldn't blame him for it – it had been a very long day. The Doctor had rewritten the last four hundred years of his personal history, saved his planet from destruction, saved the Earth from hostile invasion, and met up with his old self twice. Most of that was pretty normal, but two planets saved in one day would tire anyone out!
So she let her friend sleep. She even found a blanket to cover him with, tucking him in all the way up to his enormous chin. He shifted slightly and mumbled something incomprehensible, and the girl held her breath. Please, please don't wake him up… he needs this. Those old eyes stayed shut, and the sound of deep breathing filled the silent console room. Clara let herself relax. Good. There would be more adventures waiting for them after he slept himself out. I wonder what he dreams about…
The TARDIS was strangely quiet without the Doctor's voice rambling on about the places they could go or the constant spin and click of console controls. Clara didn't mind too much though – the silence had a friendliness to it as well. The TARDIS seemed to have come to like her, which was a big improvement over where that relationship had started. Might have something to do with Clara saving the Doctor's timeline, or directing the very first Doctor to pick her instead of a different TARDIS. Without her, boy and his box would never have met. She grinned and patted the console, "Keep an eye on him, won't you, old friend?" The machine hummed quietly, and Clara was reminded of a cat purring. Or maybe a dragon.
She followed the railing down the stairs and into the corridors of the machine, letting her subconscious guide her feet rather than having any set plan. She didn't often get the chance to do this, but it was her favorite way to explore the TARDIS. Somehow she always found her way to exactly what she wanted, even if she wasn't sure what it was she wanted until she had arrived. Probably the TARDIS herself had more than a little to do with that. This time she walked past door after door after door, peaking in here and there at the wonders to be found, but venturing inside none. Finally after a long long while, the corridor ended with a doorway.
It was so unlike the bland metal doors that lined the rest of the long corridor that when Clara caught sight of it, she just stared for a few moments. An old wooden door, worn but well cared for, hung from polished metal hinges in a frame that was slightly too large, leaving gaps. Golden light poured out from the edges and through the small heart shaped hole carved out of the door at eye level. The scents of cinnamon and butter floated down the hallway towards her, and Clara could swear she heard birdsong.
This was the place she had been travelling towards, she knew. Stepping forward and taking hold of an ancient brass door knob, she pushed into the room. Immediately she was enveloped with warmth and a rush of memory as she stepped into the brightest, friendliest, most homely kitchen she had ever seen. A large wooden table with corners rounded down with use filled the center of the room, ringed with half a dozen mismatched chairs. Cupboards, shelves, and counters lined the three walls opposite her, interrupted only by the sink, stove-top oven, and the fridge. All these spaces were filled with cooking tools and spices, mixed in with cross-stitched poems and small wooden animals. The uncharitable might call the space cluttered or cramped. Clara though it was rather comfy. She half expected her grandmother to come bustling around the corner, stirring some great bowl that would be a delicious dinner in just another hour or so.
She stepped into the room, letting the door close. Turning to look behind her, she saw where the light was coming from. A pair of massive windows flanked the entrance, looking out over a sprawling field of red grass. A brilliant sun was setting in an orange sky behind the gently rolling hills. It was that magical hour where all the sun's rays turn from white to sleepy yellow like a droopy eyed child. Her breath caught in her throat as she gazed over that incredible landscape.
Gallifrey.
She had seen the planet at its worst – war torn and dying. An entire race screaming as destruction came to silence their voices forever. This was another world entirely. Beautiful and strange and alive. So inexplicably alive. The wind through the tall grass was like a quiet voice telling her to run away, chase the sun, see over the horizon! No wonder the Time Lords had such an urge to explore, evolving on a world like this one. Clara opened the door, hoping that perhaps the TARDIS would shift something and allow her to find that field of crimson grain, but was faced by the hallway again. Leaving was not an option, not yet anyway, so she tried a window. Both were locked. Damn. Probably meant the scene through the windows was just a projection. She turned back to the kitchen.
A quick check of the pantries and fridge revealed a well-stocked kitchen, and more surprisingly most of it was recognizably from Earth. It occurred to her that perhaps the TARDIS filled the shelves with the current occupants in mind.
Clara stood back for a moment. She was hungry. The last thing she remembered having was that cup of tea she'd had with the three Doctors in the museum, and she's had nothing for several hours before that. How long was it since her last meal then?
Too long probably. She went for the apron she'd seen hanging from a hook beside the door and smiled when she discovered that it fit her perfectly. A bowl and a wooden spoon clattered as she set them onto a counter top, running to the fridge for eggs. Time for another soufflé.
The recipe was so ingrained in her memory, she didn't even have to think as she mixed ingredients and poured out the concoction into a pan. Instead Clara let her mind follow whatever line of thought suggested itself, wandering through the paths of her brain like her feet wandering through the corridors of the TARDIS.
Looking out over the expanse of red wilderness, Clara's thoughts meandered. She wondered if Gallifrey had had squirrels. Surely they must have had something akin to a squirrel at least – small furry woodland creature. She wondered what they might have looked like. What color would they have been? What about domestic animals? Did Gallifreyan children have pets of any kind? What would one have looked like? She resolved to ask the Doctor about it when he woke up. Perhaps it wouldn't be as painful now that he knew his home had not burned in the flames of the Moment.
A tiny voice in her mind, just behind her right ear, whispered that she didn't need to ask the Doctor. She had been to Gallifrey before – did she not remember? — in fact she had lived there. A million fragments of her had scattered across the universe, and at least one had landed on that distant orange globe, arriving just in time to be in that garage of faulty TARDIS capsules and help him find his match.
No, I can't remember. All those sights she had seen and all the lives she had lived, and all she could recall was a few vague images. She had tried to retrieve those memories, if nothing else to help her understand the Doctor's past, but to no avail. Clara finished pouring the soufflé and slid it into the oven, brushing aside the thought. It annoyed her that it had been her greatest journey through time and space, and she could remember almost none of it.
You can remember.
Clara froze. It was that voice again, and she had suddenly realized it was not her own. Telepathy? But who could it be? There was only she and the Doctor in the TARDIS, and the Doctor was asleep. Surely the shielding that protected them from the Vortex blocked a simple little telepathic message. So who could be speaking to her?
I am the TARDIS. Normally I would be unable to communicate with you. You see, I exist in several more dimensions than you are capable of understanding, but this place is designed to compress a part of my consciousness, limiting me to the four dimensions of your perception and allowing me to speak to you. What do you think?
This was weird. The TARDIS couldn't speak. That was just plain impossible, wasn't it? Was she going mad? Clara decided if she was going crazy, she might as well take it all the way and talk to herself out loud. "I don't understand most of what that means, but I think I get what the result is. Does the Doctor know about this place?"
No. It think if I told him I would never get him out of here.
Clara laughed, "Yeah, you're probably right."She closed the oven door, then set a timer and took a seat at the table. "So why a kitchen?"
I thought it was rather quaint, and a little ordinary is not always bad. Would you like a cup of tea while you wait for your soufflé to burn?
"Hey!" Clara huffed at the empty room, secretly wishing there was someone there to scowl at.
Sorry, comes with the territory when you talk to a being of pure time energy.
"Well since you offered, I would like some tea. And maybe some biscuits since my soufflé is going to be a failure. Again." She grimaced, but her face lifted as a cup of tea and a plate of snicker doodle cookies popped into existence in the center of the table, "Thank you."
Not every soufflé you make ends up inedible. I can think of several that were delicious. Or maybe will be delicious?
"Must be 'will'. The only soufflés I can remember being any good were the ones I made with my mother."
Then again, you cannot remember most of your lives, so that does not mean much, does it?
A twinge of annoyance made her frown. She grabbed a cookie and bit into it grumpily.
Oh, that rubs you the wrong way, does it?
"I told you, I can't remember! I've tried before, loads of times!"
Puny human mind trying to access a great mystery of the universe without any telepathic training? Like trying to swim to the bottom of the ocean in just your bathing suit.
"Puny human mind!? Get that from the Doctor, did you? You know, I'm pretty tired of Time Lords and their machines dissing humans. We may not have brains the size of planets, but that doesn't make us incompetent or –"
I can help you remember.
A swirl of emotions flooded Clara. A long moment passed. The oven hummed in its heating coils. A bird chirped outside the virtual windows. Something very like a wind chime tinkled as a breeze swept along the grass. Still she said nothing, until finally:
"How?"
Easy answer? I can guide you and protect your mind from an overload. To continue the diving analogy, I can be your submarine.
Immediately, the well-known Beetle's song jumped into Clara's mind, and she pictured the TARDIS as a little cartoon boat, the Doctor's face pressed against a window as he peered eagerly into the surrounding waters. She giggled.
What? No, stop that! I am NOT a tiny yellow submarine! I am BLUE, and a police box, thanks very much, and I have NO intention of ever changing that.
"I thought you got stuck as a police box because the chameleon circuit busted?"
I know. I like to let my thief believe that.
Clara smiled faintly, then let quietness prevail for another moment.
Well?
The woman took a deep, steadying breath before replying, "Let's try it."
Good! Prepare for dive. Prepare for dive!
"Are you sure you don't secretly wish you were a submarine?"
Shut up.