Most visitors to the Smithsonian headed straight for the 'big' museums, and quite rightly, for they were simply amazing, but many overlooked the maze of small galleries and gardens tucked away between the major buildings. They were the perfect places to rest a bit from the heat, and escape the school groups and hoards of tourists. Naturally, the Doctor knew of all of them, which is how he and Clara came to be sitting in a lovely little flower garden, sipping iced tea.
It was their first trip since Trenzalore, and he was being incredibly solicitous and overprotective, to the point where most passersby assumed them to be honeymooners, and a sweet elderly lady had whispered to Clara, inquiring how far along she was. That particular memory made Clara's cheeks flame, and more than once she'd caught herself about to tell the Doctor to back off, just a bit, she wasn't made of glass, after all. But then she'd catch that look in his eyes, the one that said he still blamed himself for everything that had happened that day, and she bit her lip. All things considered, it wasn't such a terrible thing to be coddled, sometimes. This happened to be one of those times.
He got up to discard their empty cups in a bin, surreptitiously watching her out of the corner of his eye. "Are you enjoying yourself?"
"Very much," Clara replied, smiling. "But what about you? I mean, isn't this a bit boring for you? After all, you could just go back and see all these things happening in their own proper time."
"I could," the Doctor conceded. "We could, if you like. I just thought…this is one of the greatest celebrations of human art and culture on the planet…I thought it would help to ground you, remind you of who you are. And I never tire of seeing things through your eyes."
"I know who I am."
He sat down beside her again, reaching for her hands. "Clara, this is very important. You're not just the girl who saved the Doctor; you're you. The one and only, unique Clara Oswald. You need to be very, very sure of that, because…"
"Because what, Doctor?"
"In case, I'm ever…not here. You need to know your own place in the universe. You are a part of me, now, but that's not all that you are."
"Doctor, you're not making a lot of sense right now."
He didn't answer tight away, instead looking down at their clasped hands and running his thumbs over her knuckles. "It's ironic, isn't it? All those centuries of running away from my own hearts, afraid to give in and really, truly love someone, for fear of losing them, and now that I found you, you who gave me your forever, you who will always, always be there for me…"
"Doctor?"
He looked away from her, his expression unreadable. "And now I might be the one running out of time."
Clara's fingers tightened in his grasp, nails digging in to his hands. "Doctor, what do you mean? Was there something else I should have done while I was inside your time stream? Did I miss something?"
He pulled her in tight against his chest, pressing a kiss to her temple. "No, Clara, you were perfect, absolutely perfect."
She pulled back slightly, so she could see his face. "Then…what?"
"I can sense sometimes when something's coming…something big. I can feel it, like humans can sometimes sense the change in barometric pressure before a big storm. I've felt it ever since we saw…"
"Your other self, in your time stream?"
"Yes."
"Are you ever going to tell me exactly who he is?"
"Not if I can help it. I need you to be safe, Clara. I need to know that even if I'm gone, you'll still be all right."
"Doctor, you're scaring me."
He pulled her in close again. "I know, and I'm sorry. Try not to worry about it. It takes an awful lot to permanently kill a Time Lord."
"But you could regenerate again if you had to, right? I mean, you're not like that Master bloke, on your last body?"
"That's right, I could regenerate, if I had to."
"And…you'd still remember me? Even if you regenerated?"
"Clara Oswald, I will remember you for as long as my hearts beat and there is breath in my body…and maybe even a little bit longer than that…I can manage longer than humans without oxygen, you know."
She smiled at that, then laughed a bit just as he knew she would, even if her eyes were suspiciously shiny.
"When do you think this...thing will happen?" Clara faltered.
"No way to tell. It's just a feeling really, not anything that can be quantified."
"Doctor, just promise me…don't try to send me away."
He sighed heavily. "Can you really blame me for wanting to keep you safe?"
"That works both ways, you know."
"It's very hard to win arguments against a young lady who insisted on jumping into my time stream," the Doctor grumbled.
"That's why you like me," Clara countered.
"Who says I like you?" he replied with a twinkle in his eye as he leaned down to lightly kiss her mouth.
"I think you just did."
The Doctor smiled and straightened his bowtie. "Now then, what else would you like to see while we're here?"
"The Monets at the National Gallery?"
He stood and held out his arm for her to take. Clara responded by twining both arms around his and resting her cheek against his sleeve.
"Anything else? All of time and space, anything you want to see, just name it."
"Could we see the Crystal Palace? For real, I mean, during the Great Exhibition?"
"We do have a time machine at our disposal," he reminded her. "And yes, I think we could manage that. Her majesty wouldn't recognize this face, and anyway, that was before she exiled me."