All the games you played
The promises you made
Couldn't finish what you started
Only darkness still remains
Blow the candles out
Looks like a solo tonight
I'm beginning to see the light
Blow the candles out
Looks like a solo tonight
But I think I'll be alright
Candles - Hey Monday
When it happened, it had been surprisingly unexpected. Spontaneous nights stayed over and kisses not as clumsy as she had expected of him. There had been little talking, just being and somehow she had been okay with that.
Lying in his arms, in his bed, hair strewn across his pillows. Him humming something under his breath and smiling at her (or so she'd thought, but it had always been dark and she could never be sure). A part of her had always known that it wasn't secure. She'd felt safe, yes, and warm and even loved. But the part of her that had been through more than most who met her would guess knew that he wasn't just someone she could date and sleep with and it would be that simple.
She had loved him, she had adored him, but could never be sure how he felt about her. Oh, he cared, she had never been able to doubt that. But that wasn't love, not necessarily.
He had been so beautiful. Her beautiful, broken space man who would call her his and kiss her forehead like she was the most precious thing in the universe.
I wanted everything to stop. I wanted nothing to change ever again. If he could just keep standing there, so beautiful...that's when I knew.
Then had come Trenzalore. She had stood across from him after having seen him aged and weak, and suddenly seeing back as he should be (as he always should have been), and her heart had swelled.
And then he had changed, right in front of her, into a stranger, a much older stranger. No longer beautiful, no longer hers, no longer...anything she could quite put her finger on.
There was a dull echo where her heart had been as she watched him. He ran about spouting nonsense and hurtful lack of recognition, breaking her heart more with every minute that passed. But it was Vastra that forced her into action.
"He looked like your dashing gentleman friend; your lover, even."
Somehow when the lizard woman said it, it just sounded so ridiculous, and she had to swallow the hurt.
"The Doctor regenerated in your presence. The young man disappeared the veil lifted. He trusted you! Are you judging him?"
Clara had felt the strangest shame at her words, and realised with a jolt that maybe, just maybe, it didn't matter that he was different. Okay, he was old, but she could work with that. What was more troubling was his manner. But he was her Doctor, she couldn't give up on him yet.
"I am not sure who you think you're talking to right now, Madame Vastra, but I have never had the slightest interest in pretty young men-" Alright, that wasn't entirely true, but close enough for the point being made, "And for the record if there was anybody who could flirt with a mountain range she's probably standing in front of you right now! Just because my pretty face has turned your head do not assume I am so easily distracted."
Speaking up had felt so good. As if that little speech had cleared it all up and nothing was left to worry about.
And then they had found him, out in London, acting like a maniac. The more time she spent with him, the more she had to accept that while he may very well be the Doctor, he was no longer quite hers. Her Doctor that she could wind around her finger and flirt with and laugh with. This Doctor was different, so new, so untempered. He was a storm that she didn't think she had the skills to brave.
"Clara, I'm not your boyfriend."
"I never thought you were."
"I never said it was your mistake."
It's that, perhaps, that hurts the most. The fact that he all but admits what they had once had but makes it clear that things are different now.
So they stand in front of each other on the Glasgow street and she is crying for him, the old him, and he is begging for her to see him. She comes in close and examines him from several angles before she can see that it is him, somehow.
"Thank you."
"For what?"
"For phoning."
She launches herself at him and for one moment everything is fine. But she can feel his lack of response to her embrace and how he really is a different man in so many ways.
He's the Doctor, but not hers. Not anymore.
Eventually they end up back in the TARDIS, unsure of each other, but suddenly very close. His hand tucks a strand of hair behind her ear with tentative softness and she isn't sure whether she wants to cringe away from his touch or lean into it. In the end, she just turns to him and touches his new jacket for a moment before giving him a watery smile.
"I'm sorry," he says, and he doesn't need to say any more. For being young and selfish. For taking you into my bed when I knew it could so easily change so quickly. For being different and not what you want.
For no longer wanting you like that.
Clara just nods and ducks her head to try and disguise the fresh lot of tears that threaten to surface.
There's still something there. What they had before, that solid friendship, that companionship, it's not gone, it's just shifted a little. He's still her best friend. The realisation is comforting and she soon finds herself smiling at him across the console.
"So, are Wednesdays still good for you?" She asks. He glances up at her, as if he's not sure that he heard her right.
"I'm sorry?"
"Wednesdays. Will you still be coming, or are you on a different schedule?"
The Doctor takes another second or two to process her words but then he smiles widely, in a smile almost too large and strange for his already peculiar face.
"I don't know," he admits, "Maybe I'll mix things up a little."
"More than you have already, you mean," she finds herself teasing. He just grins lopsidedly at her again and they laugh, quietly at first and then loudly for no particular reason.
Their laughter echoes through the large space of the console room and for a moment it seems like the ship is laughing alone with them.
Perhaps she's just glad that her Doctor and his impossible girl are still alright.
Funny thing is, is that while I kind of ship Eleven/Clara, mostly Whouffle for me is one of those borderline brOTP/OTP relationships where you love them and aren't sure in what way. But generally, especially with Twelve around now, my general headcanon is that Eleven and Clara never really did anything (I dunno, maybe some kissing at most extreme).
But. BUT...I couldn't help but be intrigued by the idea of what if they HAD, in terms of how it would relate to her sudden new relationship with Twelve. And so I wrote a thing. I hope you guys actually liked it and that someone likes my take on this 'what if this happened behind the scenes'.
I remain undecided on Eleven/Clara, but Twelve and Clara are definitely one of my dearest brOTPs and nothing more.
Thanks for reading, reviews and feedback are much appreciated!
-MayFairy :)