Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who - and if I did, so many wonderful things would be happening. Not that wonderful things aren't happening. I just really want to work on Doctor Who and make it new, make it twice as impressive. Bleh - but that would be a dream come true. And if dreams came true I wouldn't be writing nearly as much fanfiction.
This story takes place after Heaven Sent and Hell Bent and therefore has spoilers. If you haven't watched them yet, then you shouldn't read this particular story. Otherwise - continue!
Clara looks at the Doctor as he questions someone on the streets about some goings-on in the solar system. It's one he's never been to before, not that it's impossible - just uncommon - so he's very invested in everything that's being said. There's no adventure on this trip - at least no to the Doctor's knowledge. Clara and Ashildir know differently, of course. In the darkness, in the back alleys, and in the riskiest asteroid belts - there are trades. There are trades for power and business that will ultimately put some Dalek-esque spin off alien in control of this fresh solar system. Clara's been to the future for this planet and she knows that there will be war. So she's just trying to blow the lid now so that those in power can stay in power and prevent the outcome that she's seen - one that will eventually blow this solar system to smithereens.
"I like how sometimes I rhyme in my head. Makes me feel a tiny bit like a teacher again." Clara shares with Ashildir, who is currently drinking some local beverage from a tin cup. She doesn't often respond, feeling that where the Doctor is concerned she rarely has much nice to say. Even though Clara isn't actively talking about the Doctor, she is thinking about him.
Poor girl never really stops, though, does she? Clara knows - she's always known - that her relationship with the Doctor has been far more than platonic. There was always something in the way, though. Sometimes it wasn't even a 'thing' but rather a person. In her most recent incarnation with the Doctor, it was Danny Pink.
Dear stars, did she love him! Loving him was everything she wanted love to be if she could have it - subconsciously knowing that she was destined to live and die for the Doctor. She always saved his life. And she always died. Somehow, though, not exactly this time. She didn't exactly die. Although, she wasn't exactly alive either. Stuck somewhere between death and immortality. Clara liked it, though. It made her more dangerous.
It made her more like him. "Doctor Clara," she sometimes whispered to herself in the dead of night when Ashildir poured over her books. Of course, being more like him only made her want to be with him more. Even though he wasn't the young, handsome, spry man he was in his last regeneration - this older version was wiser. He was on the same intellectual plane as Clara, it seemed, and the same level of maturity. Of course, they both had their moments - those lapses of clarity.
And even though she knew he was old enough to be her father - a disgusting truth many young women face when admiring British celebrities on the daily - she found herself far more attracted to this Doctor than she'd ever been before in any life. It was painful at times when he wasn't around, especially when Danny Pink was gone. Loving him and losing him made her realization that having the Doctor to herself wasn't just a craving, but a huge part of how she defined herself. Making him forget her was the hardest thing she'd ever had to do…
But this is the first time she's crossed paths with him since he forgot. He loved Clara, and she saw how much in his eyes when he recalled this story. He had a name and a memory of her - but not a face. He'd never recognize Clara Oswald if he saw her - even if he likes to believe he might. He didn't that day… So he never would… Not on any day…
"I loved him, you know. I loved him properly the way they do in books. I've died for him twelve times, and I'd do it twelve more if he asked me. There'd always be twelve more times in me if it meant I'd meet him again and love him again." Clara says in this tone of voice that seems dismissive and nonchalant. Loving him was a fact for her, a truth that seemed as simple as breathing. Ashildir must have guessed as much because she merely grunts in response.
Well, she grunts as an initial response anyway. It is a conversation about the Doctor, a man she lives to hate. And it isn't even hate so much as rival. They aren't even proper enemies. They are very much on good terms, it's just that she sees him as a menace, really. Regardless, it seems that she wishes to engage in real conversation about him; "I do think his wife would have a piece to say on the matter. Everyone loves the Doctor - at least once."
Of course, the Doctor has many wives. He's married in more than one regeneration. Clara has never been present for any of those relationships - but she's heard plenty about them. The only one that really ever sticks around, the only wife that ever made waves in the Doctor's life was River. Professor Song was brilliant in many ways, and Clara very much envied her. It wasn't just because she was the Doctor's wife but also because she was a Time Lord. Clara desperately wishes to travel through time and space with regenerations - although she was rather quite fond of her face. Maybe she'd do what the Doctor did with his tenth regeneration and keep this face. She loves the idea of that choice - the idea of herself regeneration rather than living, meeting the Doctor, saving him, and then dying.
"Even you, Ashildir? Have you ever loved the Doctor?" Clara questions with tears welling up in her eyes. The Doctor is now walking towards her - although probably not directly towards her. It's just in her direction because he'd never approach her specifically - never again - never the way he once did. She isn't his companion anymore. In fact, she's her own Doctor now. Doctor Clara with her companion Ashildir. That's how Clara gets through some of the harder days when she misses him with ever fiber of her being.
Ashildir looks at him with heavy eyes, Clara can tell the weight on her shoulders as she contemplates the question at hand. There's not even a trace of sympathy or empathy or compassion at all as she glances at him - nearing their bench. His head whirls around as he takes in the world around him. Today he's wearing those goofy sonic sunglasses, although he likely has a sonic screwdriver back in his pocket.
"My darling, I cannot say. Perhaps I love him in my own way, but I pity him more than anything else. I pity the man that must run from deeds he convinces himself are heroic. And perhaps they are to some, but there's always a mess that needs cleaning - and I'm forever his maid." Ashildir leaves the conversation dead at that and returns to his drink. Clara, having been somewhat standing the entire time, twists off of the arm of the bench and pushes off of the wall. Even though she knows it would be wrong she steps into full view on the side of the street and waves in the Doctor's general direction.
At first, he doesn't seem to notice her wide smile and hopeful eyes. Since she's suspended in animation, essentially, she's had to get creative with her hair. It's pulled up in this strange way so that her hair is out of her face. She's got this headband thing in to keep fly-away hairs in place. Everything else she's got on is a boring gray or black, very comfortable pajama sort of clothes. Nothing about her stands out except her enthusiastic motions.
The Doctor nearly walks right past her, but barely makes it a few feet. When he turns around he points at her somewhat angrily; "You there!"
Clara points to herself playfully and asks, "Who? Me?" She can practically hear Ashildir's head shaking in the background.
"Yes. I know you. I remember your face. I remember it from another time line." The Doctor has always been the forward type. Clara figures he must be confident in his memory of her face because he wouldn't just throw "time line" out there if he didn't know for sure that the person in question was familiar with time travel. Although, pretty much everyone that is not a human is familiar with the Time Lord species.
Clara takes a moment of joy to herself before nodding, "Yes, I am from another time line. Never though I'd see you again. Still got that guitar?"
A smile flickers across his worn out features, and he reaches to remove his glasses. It is such a small flirtation, but it rings so loudly in the Doctor's ears. She hopes that he remembers the style - she hopes that it reminds him of Clara. Of his Clara, not the Clara she is today. He might not care for her if he knew the rules she'd been willing to break while saving her own planets, her own solar systems, and her own aliens on her own adventures. Clara was a bit darker than the Doctor in her execution - although every bit as methodical.
"I do, but it's dusty. I put it one of the closets and forgot about it after you left me in the middle of nowhere. That was you - the one with the diner. Wish you'd told me you were a time traveller. I could have used a new companion. Clara didn't want me to travel alone." Of course he'd remember. Maybe somewhere in the deepest, darkest recesses of his memory he knew that she was Clara. Something in his biological processes recognized her - at least she dreamt of such a thing every single day.
"You didn't need me anymore. It was time for a new companion." Clara heard the words in her head, but it was on a delay. She'd already said the words aloud before she processed what they actually were - in the order she'd said them - and how it might sound to the Doctor.
"What do you mean by that?" His eyebrows do a dance, well sort of. Clara watches in horror as the Doctor starts analyzing her words. He'll know that she was implying that she was his companion at some point. And he'll put the context together and he'll know - he'll know that she's Clara. And he will know because she told him. It could put everything in jeopardy. She could have just put the Doctor's life in danger because the very instant he realizes that she's still alive… He'll take her and travel with her and risk the Time Lords tracking him down. After everything he's done - she cannot put a target on his back again.
"You had done your venting. I was your companion for the afternoon. But I never forgot your story. And I want to say, I think Clara loved you very much. She probably would have stayed with you forever. Maybe even married you. Don't you think?" Carrying on a conversation with him as though no time had lapsed since he told her about the day he lost her… the day he lost his Clara Oswald… It was lovely. Just looking at him as he thought about her, just seeing how much he truly cared in every feature of his face. Seeing the way he wants to have her with him again in every body motion he makes. Clara is satisfied to see that he misses her every bit as much as she misses him.
"I have been married many times. Sometimes I even had families. I loved them all very much. I don't think I loved anyone quite the way I loved Clara, though. I could never find the right way to tell that large, round face of hers. It felt impossible. Telling her and loving her. I'm a hated man, and I never thought it would be fair to burden her with that information." The Doctor shares a detail about Clara's appearance. A student had once made fun of Clara's head for being too large to concentrate. It was story she'd shared with Danny Pink, and then later with the Doctor when they were traveling. It's funny how the memory works. It leaks details that you may have forgotten, or details that once seemed insignificant but are special later in life. The Doctor will someday remember all of the details of Clara Oswald - and he will remember that he'd crossed paths with her after losing her. And he will cherish these things that they say.
So Clara figures she may as well say the truest, sweetest things she can think of while she has the chance. What if she never sees the Doctor again? Second chances are rare. Once upon a time she was told by a special man in her memory - "Every Christmas is last Christmas." So it's best to be honest now. There may not be another opportunity.
"Everything is impossible with you, you impossible man. But I'm telling you - if you told her how you felt - she would have kissed you. That Clara Oswald had to have loved you to the end of time to travel with you and erase your memory. She loved you so much that losing the memory of you was worse than you losing memory of her. She never wanted to forget you - and there's not a love in all of time and space that is stronger than that. It's a Time Lord's love." These things that they're saying - they're just chunks of monologue. It works, though. They're just words between essentially strangers. For today; for now, anyway. That is probably what makes them so profound, Clara thinks. Opening up to strangers is somehow easier than opening up to loved ones. And since Clara is a stranger to the Doctor - it's easier to open up to him because he doesn't know. The strings aren't attached anymore.
"I wasn't the impossible one. She was. Clara was my impossible girl. You don't know this, but she jumped into my time stream. She exists in every single regeneration. I'm scared that she might not exist in any more. I have twelve more, you know. I got a new set. And I don't know if she'll be in any of them. It was impossible for her to exist in them all but instead of looking for an explanation - I relied upon it. I relied upon an impossibility." This is a softer Doctor - a side that even Clara didn't often see. He was usually cold and brash. Even when he was vulnerable he didn't speak so - lovingly? She wouldn't really call it 'lovingly' but it was in the same family as that feeling.
Clara glances back at Ashildir. How bored she must be? How disgusted? The Doctor would remember Ashildir if he saw her. When she turns back to the Doctor a tear is rolling down his cheek. The Doctor doesn't just cry. When he cries it is because he has truly lost something; "Oh, Doctor, don't cry. Don't you cry on me."
Clara cannot resist leaning in and grabbing him. He's not a hugger, and she feels his hesitation when she gets wrapped around him. His body is cold, it was always cold, but it feels like home. How desperately she wishes she'd been able to have something with the Doctor. Just loving him didn't feel like enough anymore. Alas, people always want the things that they can't have - that's just the way life works, she supposes. Clara got far more than she should have when she wanted it - thanks to the Doctor, of course. Having the Doctor himself was just one wish too many.
"I don't like hugs. So why am I letting you hug me?" He questions.
"Because I'm a good hugger." Clara remarks.
"I never did get your name at the diner. Or in your TARDIS, I suppose. You didn't have a name card." His observation was interesting. Why had he committed that particular detail to memory? Clara opens her mouth to ask, but he tells her without prompting; "Like you, I never forgot our meeting. I've mulled over our interactions a good many times. I remember your face. I don't know why I remember your face."
His eyebrows are ever crosser than normal. It's how they look when he's trying to figure something out. Clara supposes it's about time to finish their conversation and return to her own TARDIS. If she lingers too long - if she says too much - who knows what could happen? She knows - she could make the Doctor a target. For now, they're just looking for her. They want to return her to that moment just before her last heartbeat. She is the problem, not the Doctor. People can't be blamed for what they do when they love someone too much.
She knows that's not true. The Doctor is still an outcast in the Time Lord society. They'll never stop looking for him, whether or not she is present with him in his travels. But it would much easier to track them both if they travelled together. And as such, she can never travel with the Doctor again.
"I kept a diary with my wife. We met in opposite directions. We kept a diary so that we could one day remember our life together from start to finish in the right order. I think I might have to do that with you. I know you're important but I can't figure out why." His eyes flick up over her shoulder. Clara is begging the Ashildir's head is still tilted down. Goodness, she hopes that her face isn't visible in the slightest. The Doctor seems interested in something behind Clara for a moment, but his gaze returns to her - harder now; "If I keep one, will you?"
Clara doesn't want to be a repeat of River. Nobody is quite like River Song. She was sexy, and confident, and dangerous in all the ways Clara could never be - in all the ways Clara never wanted to be, for that matter. The Doctor and River loved each other with fire and curiosity. Clara loved the Doctor with distinction and dedication. Very different experiences - and as such, Clara would prefer that the Doctor just commit their interactions to memory.
So she puts both hands on his cheeks. After he winces she leans steps into his, her elbows pressed against his chest; "I don't think you'll need one, old man. I think you'll remember me just fine. Name or not."
And then she kisses him gently. It is quick, but it's exactly what Clara imagine. He tastes like the stars they travelled together - bright and wild. His hands were pressed to her back in shock, but in acceptance. It was a perfect reflection of how their bond strengthened after his regeneration.
The Doctor surprises her when he goes to kiss her a second time. Their lips brush together but Clara closes her eyes before pressing her forehead to his to prevent anything further. At least she would have kissed him once. At least once.
"I don't know why I let you do that. You could have killed me." The Doctor realizes that he may have made a terrible decision. You don't just let people kiss you. He once said that River used her sex appeal to kiss enemies with hallucinogenic lipstick. Clara could do as much - she has a similarly flirtatious appeal, after all.
"Never you, Doctor. I'd never kill you. I rather quite like you. In the worst way." Clara steps away, knowing that it's time for her to go, but she can't leave without a few more words; "Run you clever boy, and remember."
That was a bit too obvious, she thinks; "I've got this planet covered!" Panic sets in as the Doctor's eyes widen. Realization is hitting him - that's something that Clara said to him. It's something that only Clara Oswald would know - something on Clara Oswald had said to him. Even though she's just revealed herself to him - she can't help but laugh. She's backing away with her arms wide open and a laugh parting her lips in the most awkward way.
"I love you, Doctor, and don't you forget it!" Clara grabs Ashildir's arm somewhat violently, indicating that it's time to leave. Ashildir makes eye contact with the Doctor just before both ladies have to spin on their heels and leave. With their backs turned, they both can just barely hear the Doctor shoutings.
"Damn it, Clara!"
A/N: I wrote this in the early morning hours and did not edit it. If you find mistakes feel free to mention them in the comments - I might fix them if I have the time. Otherwise, feel free to let me know if you liked it! I may continue this story if time allows. I think it has great potential - at least for me 33 Thanks for reading!