A/N: Not really sure how I came up with this. I just wanted to contribute another Clara/Oswin one-shot to the archives. Hope people like this! Don't think I'll be continuing it, but I'd love for you guys to review and stuff.
She closed her eyes and sighed deeply, the strands of hair on her face fluttering. "Run, you clever boy. And remember."
He promised her silently that he would, that he would remember for her.
There was a funeral, and few attended. Only himself, Vastra, Jenny, Strax, and Captain Latimer and the children. What were there names? Oh, he remembers. Francesca and Digby. And now comes the part where he sees the gravestone, and the name imprinted on it.
Clara Oswin Oswald. Remember, for we shall meet again. 23 November 1866-24 December 1892.
Clara Oswin…Oswald. Oswin Oswald….He knows now. He informs them of his departing and makes his way to the TARDIS. The interior is…cold and grey. Changed.
He whips off the tall hat and tosses it in any given direction. "Clara—Oswin—Oswald!" he yells, face alight with glee. Round and round he spins, slamming down levers and pressing buttons the size of his face. Or rather, his chin. A blinking light appears, drawing his attention to the hanging monitor.
It's her. Or at least a picture. Judging by the way she is dressed, she's from the year 2012. London. England. The United Kingdom. Earth. He taps the screen a few times, and the picture disappears, replaced by an address and a date. "Save me, Chin Boy, and show me the stars!"
"Oh, I will. Clara Oswin Oswald. Ha!" He twirls once more for good measure and with a great tug of a lever the TARDIS is off, spinning around the Time Vortex.
Clara Oswin Oswald just wanted to get to her job. Instead she ran into the strangest man she'd ever seen. "Oof!" she cried, falling backwards into the snow. The man looked supremely startled.
"Oh! Terribly sorry about that. I was just looking for someone. Here, let me help you up." He extended a hand, still looking quite dumbfounded. Clara ignored him, instead shoving herself up, dusting her clothes off.
"Damn," she cursed. "Look at the state of me! What sort of person goes about knocking people into the snow?"
"I'm sorry about that. You look extremely familiar…" the man's eyes roam about her small face and wide, intelligent brown eyes.
"Oi, what're you looking at? Some kind of pervert? I've never met you in my life!" Clara drew herself up to her full—and unintimidating—five feet two inches, hands on hips.
"No, no, not at all! Are you sure? What's your name?"
Clara rolled her eyes. "I'm probably gonna regret this. My name's Clara. Clara Oswin Oswald. And if you don't mind, I'm late for work."
The man gaped at her, making his chin (really, who on earth could boast a chin of that size?) look even more pronounced. "I…Clara Oswin Oswald, you said? I'm the Doctor. I could have sworn we'd met!"
"The 'Doctor'? What kind of creep are you, anyway? Doctor who?" she demanded. This, surprisingly, made him laugh. "What? Think I'm being funny, do you?"
"What? Oh, no, no. It's just…who even knows anymore?" The Doctor chuckled again. Clara shook her head in disbelief. Who was this weird man, anyway?
The only thing she could think of to say was, "Who the hell wears a bow tie anymore?"
"Bow ties—" the Doctor reached up to straighten his own "—are cool."
This made her laugh. "Cool? Sorry, wrong century. Now, I really have to go." She gathered her things and swept off, her boots stabbing imprints into the frozen snow.
"Not changed that much, has she?" the Doctor said to himself, grinning like a five-year-old.