Forever is a Long Time Without You
Set directly after the Christmas special Last Christmas and heavy on the whouffaldi this fic emphasises the whouffaldi-ness of those final scenes and runs with them in the direction of a full on relationship. Clara experiences the wonderful beginnings of a life with the Doctor on the TARDIS but is quickly marred by nightmares and visions and worries for their future. Rated M for sexy stuff and probably later some angsty stuff and themes of loss.
Warning: This fic may be slightly more out of character than my usual because of the sheer amount of fluff I've poured into the beginning of it just for starters. I hope you can forgive me, I just wanted to see them happy for a while and I hope it's not so horrendously AU that it disappoints. Also for the first time I am posting as I go along rather than having the whole thing finished and ready for you so please bear with me as I try to update in between real life commitments. I hate leaving people in suspense! Reviews make me write faster ;-)
'I don't even know who to thank,' the TARDIS door swung shut behind them and the Doctor moved past Clara to the console, his step unusually light and easy. His habitually stern features kept threatening to break into a surprisingly dazzling smile.
'Santa Claus?' she suggested, one eyebrow raised, the Doctor rolled his eyes at her but without much real intent.
'Yes, yes, Santa Claus, I'm never going to hear the end of that one am I?' he stifled his grin and looked down at the controls, struggling to keep his very genuine joy under sufficient wraps to allow him to retain his dignity. Clara decided to pounce on it while he was at his most vulnerable and with something not unlike a skip in her step she closed the gap between him and assaulted him with a side on hug.
'Clara for heaven's sake,' he stiffened briefly in her arms and then puffed his protest at her making her giggle at the sheer typical Doctor-y-ness that she had missed so much. When his muscles relaxed she squeezed him harder and buried her head against the soft material of his hoody.
'Protest all you like,' she remarked, 'It's not every day you get reunited with someone you love,' he stiffened again at that one and his heart rate seemed to double against her cheek. It was her turn to sigh in mock frustration, 'Impossible man,' she said quietly, her words heavy with meaning after their dream conversation. 'My impossible man.'
Clara leaned back and took in his response to that, the slight widening of his eyes before he looked away from her with the rare bashfulness that sometimes escaped from his hardened exterior. Clara reached up with one hand and stroked some wayward snowflakes from his hair before letting the backs of her knuckles softly graze his cheek. She saw him swallow and his eyes close at her touch and it made her smile somewhere deep inside. After a moment studying his face she reached up and gently kissed the corner of his mouth, allowing her thumb to trace the contours of his lip as she pulled away.
'It all starts here,' she said softly and his eyes opened onto her gaze, 'No more lies, not to each other, not to ourselves, no trying to second guess the other person or do what we think might be best for them without actually asking them,' he looked away with a tiny flicker of guilt and she rubbed his chest reassuringly. 'We're both at fault there, Doctor,' she said with a wry smile, 'But not anymore, fresh start,' her smile widened.
'Clara…' her name rumbled from his lips.
'If you're about to say something doubtful or negative or spoil the moment in any way you can stop right there,' she warned. 'You, me, the TARDIS, it's all going to be fine.'
'Is it?' he asked with genuine curiosity. There was something at once hopeful and resigned in his eyes as though he wanted to believe but experience had taught him not to.
'I've made my choice,' Clara said, 'I'm full time TARDIS girl now.'
His eyebrows seemed to do a dance of puzzlement at her words. 'You are?'
'Yes? Aren't I? Did I miss something?'
'Well I thought you'd…'
'What? I'd what?'
'I thought you'd want to go back to Wednesdays.'
Clara took a step back, 'You did?'
They looked at one another across a suddenly larger gap and the atmosphere shifted gear a little more towards awkward. The Doctor stuffed his hands in his trouser pockets and looked down at his feet before risking a glance at her.
'You'd rather be full time?' he ventured.
'Your other companions were full time,' Clara pointed out a little sharply.
'Yes, but you always said…'
'What?'
'Well your life, family… job… you didn't want to lose all that.'
'And prioritising those things worked out so well for me,' she snapped. 'Don't you want me to be here full time? Is that it?'
'Clara, no!'
'No?! No what?'
'No of course I want you to be here full time, I just didn't want to presume. Your life away from here has always been so important to you so I assumed you'd…'
'Stop assuming, and presuming. Stop all kinds of 'suming! This is where we go wrong all the time!' The Doctor flinched a little at her tone and Clara took a second to calm herself before she continued. 'Doctor, I want to be here full time. With you.'
'Oh,'
'Is that OK?' she stared at him levelly.
'You're sure?'
'Yes!' she said with more than a touch of despair.
'OK.'
'Good,' she stepped back towards him, 'And just so we are clear and we're not crossing wires again already, when I say with you, I mean with you.'
'With me?'
'With you,' she attempted to communicate with her eyes but he didn't seem to be following, 'You and me, together, properly together…. As a couple,' she finished bluntly and with not a little awkwardness on her part too. Her heart had decided its course but actually verbalising it to the Doctor felt rather strange.
Evidently it felt strange to him too. 'Oh,' he said hurriedly and dropped his gaze from her again, a slight blush creeping up his cheeks. Clara spotted it and immediately thought it adorable. Silly frustrating Time Lord. She lifted her hand to feel the warmth from his usually cool cheek.
'No one else compares,' she explained as he all but consumed himself with embarrassment, 'You were in the same dream as me Doctor, you saw it too. I could live another sixty two years and no one would come close.' He wriggled under her hand. 'There's no rush though,' she said gently, her heart aching for his awkwardness, 'Now I'm full time we've all the time in the world.'
He looked for a second as though he might argue with her about her concept of time as a human being rather different to his as a Time Lord and how really the rest of her lifetime was just a blink in his timeline but to her relief he decided against protesting and instead rewarded her with a slight nod and another of his shy smiles. Clara decided that was enough intense emotional talk for one day, drained as they were by dream crab events and after enforcing another kiss on his cheek took a pace back to his visible relief, at least she thought it was relief, he half looked disappointed but quickly recovered.
'Right,' she said, 'Now we've sorted that, we need to sort other things.'
'Such as?'
'Such as my belongings from home, starting with some clothes that aren't this nightie. I can't believe I let anyone see me in this let alone total strangers. I only wore it because it was so cold, it's completely unflattering. Shona and the others must have thought I have absolutely no fashion sense at all,' she plonked herself in one of the jumpseats while the Doctor fired up the TARDIS engines.
'Just be grateful you don't sleep nude,' he said under his breath. Clara shot him a look of shock and outrage from behind her crossed arms and angry pout but when he looked up at her, blue eyes filled with barely supressed humour she burst out laughing.
'Yeah, OK that would have been a hard one to explain to Santa and his Elves,' she agreed.
'Makes you wonder what kind of thing they stumble across in bedrooms across the land when they drop down people's chimneys,' he mused.
'Doctor!' Clara gaped at him. He pulled a lever and winked at her.
XXXXXXXXX
'You can help, you know,' Clara said from the bottom of the walk in wardrobe where she was struggling to free her shoe collection from rabid dust bunnies.
'I wouldn't want to interfere with your system,' the Doctor said languidly, coffee cup poised at his lips. He was leaning against the TARDIS door from where he had parked it in the corner of her bedroom and he looked as though he had no intention whatsoever of giving up that position.
Clara blew a strand of hair out of her face and turned to look at him. 'What system?'
He waved a hand in the direction of several half-filled cardboard boxes on the bed, 'You know, you have a list and a system, for packing.'
'It's not a very difficult system to grasp Doctor, I'm sure even you could manage to put books in the box marked 'books.'
'Why do you need to bring books? You've seen the TARDIS library.'
'I want my books,' Clara sneezed as a wayward dust bunny assaulted her. 'You know, my own personal belongings, filled with memories and things in the margin that I wrote when I was a student. They aren't just books they're my thoughts, my companions from… from a bygone age,' she finished pleased with her phrasing.
The Doctor shook his head and took a sip of coffee. 'Well let me know when you are done packing your companions and we'll get going,' he turned and vanished into the TARDIS.
'Oi! Time Lord! Get back here with your so called super human strength and lift these for me.'
'I'm a Time Lord not a removal man,' came the reply.
'I could hurt myself,' Clara called playfully, 'I'm only human…'
'Well if you're only human you should know better than to have so many heavy belongings you aren't capable of shifting by yourself.' He appeared at the door again minus his cup and Clara took the opportunity to give him one of her best looks. 'Oh don't do that… stop it with the eyes, that's not fair.'
'I'm only little, I could really damage my back…'
'Why are you only little when it suits you to be? The rest of the time you complain when I call you short.'
'Please?' Clara looked up at him from under her lashes and she saw something soften in him. His mouth quirked and he refused to look at her. She felt warm inside at the sight.
'Is this what it's going to be like?' he asked stepping down from the ship, 'Am I to be wound round your little finger so easily for the rest of time?'
'You were wound round it anyway,' Clara quipped. Pointing she said, 'That one first, it's got the heaviest ones in it and I want to make sure it gets moved before you make some excuse not to help anymore.'
With a sigh he bent and lifted the heaviest box with ease. Clara stared after him as he disappeared into the TARDIS. That really had been very heavy, maybe this Time Lord strength thing wasn't just an idle boast after all. It suddenly occurred to her that if she was to be living full time with him she'd probably see other hitherto hidden sides too, and the thought made her smile with something like pride to be trusted with sharing his existence that way. She caught herself biting down on her lip with nervous excitement at images of possible domesticity but when the Doctor re-emerged a moment later he found Clara back in the wardrobe busy-ing herself and pointedly not watching him lift heavy things or thinking about domestic bliss.
Don't get too domestic too soon, Oswald, you'll terrify him.
'You are filthy,' he commented glancing down at her dust covered jeans, 'I don't remember your flat being so dirty.'
'Still as tactful as ever I see,' Clara nipped back and then fell into a fit of coughing. 'Been busy, anyway no-one hoovers the inside of a wardrobe.'
'You probably used to, part of your control freak nature.' He sat on the bed between boxes.
'Oi, keep lifting things, I'll pack, you move stuff.'
The Doctor idly flicked through the contents of one box, his long fingers combing through book titles and paper.
'What have you been busy with?' he asked.
'Life.' Clara hauled out a pair of boots and blew a cobweb from them.
'The life you're giving up to come with me?' he said quietly.
'Yes that's the one,' she dumped the boots in a box, 'Didn't have much going for it recently.' She looked up at him noting the sudden sadness in his gaze, 'Stop that,' she admonished, 'It's not your fault.'
'I would like to say that yes it is, but I know there's no point arguing with you…'
'Right… so don't,' she rummaged through a few more bottom of the wardrobe items, 'What about you, what have you been busy with?'
'Me?'
'Yes, you, how long's it been for you, how many planets have you saved? You're usually full of stories. I'm seeing a distinct lack of stories…'
'Oh,' he looked down at his hands with a silence strong enough to make Clara turn and look at him. 'No planets,' he said, 'Not much of anything really.' She got up and wiped her dusty hands down her jeans before squeezing in between him and a box.
'No wild tales then?' she asked.
'Not this time.'
'Well I'm sure we'll get dragged into something sooner or later, we always do,' she smiled at him. 'So what were you doing? Shacked up with otters? Sitting on a cloud? Floating in the time Vortex?'
There was a beat before he answered.
'Missing you,' he said.
The words felt like warmed honey in her chest and she felt herself blush at his uncharacteristic directness. She placed a hand on his knee and felt him move a little closer, his breath cool on her burning cheek. When his lips hesitantly made contact with her skin she instinctively dragged her hand up his thigh a little. He didn't move away and she had the sudden sense that they were crossing a bridge together, slowly and surely.
'You have cobwebs in your hair,' he said softly, his fingers picking strands of silk from her head, 'And you are dusty,' he observed. Clara looked down at his lap where streaks of grey dust now marked his trousers.
'Oops,' she said.
'You're forgiven,' he said lightly. The cobwebs removed he was running his fingers through her hair fully, his touch firm on her scalp to the point she thought she might actually start to purr. She felt him reach round to pull her tighter to him, his lips dipping to her neck and a charge of arousal flared through her body. She slid her hands up over his hips and under his jacket.
'Clara, you're determined to ruin my clothes.'
'You can get new clothes.'
She felt him smile against her and nuzzle at her neck comfortably. So this was what relaxed Doctor felt like, she could live with this. He kissed her neck softly and held her like that for a moment longer before releasing her and slipping off the bed. Clara sat in a daze and when she blinked back into existence saw that he had lifted another box as instructed and gone back inside the TARDIS.
'Stupid boxes,' she muttered and glanced at the wardrobe. Maybe the Doctor was right, maybe she didn't need quite as much stuff as she was thinking of packing. Packing or following him into the TARDIS? Clara's gaze flicked between the two points, her heart being tugged in the direction of the console room.
'Sod it, TARDIS has a library. And a wardrobe.' And the Doctor. What else did she really need? She hopped off the bed and into the waiting ship.
The Doctor sapped his fingers and the TARDIS doors shut behind her.
'All done?' he asked.
'Yes, all done,' she made for him across the room and repositioned her hands under his jacket, the sensation plugging some sort of awful gap that had been felt at their separation moments before.
'So soon?' she caught the glint in his eye as he spoke.
'Yes… I… Wait… Are you deliberately manipulating me so you can get out of moving my things?' Clara asked horrified.
The Doctor made sure to pull the TARDIS lever before answering in a deep amused tone. 'Me? No… course not.'
XXXXXXX
He hadn't changed a thing and it felt like home.
Clara unfolded and folded jumpers and tops and slipped them into the drawers the TARDIS supplied for her in her old room. It had been months since she had been there, possibly longer given that the Doctor could quite easily have been away for years if he had chosen to do so, and yet not a single thing had moved. She placed things from her flat amongst alien trinkets from her various adventures and marvelled at how well everything seemed to fit together. She started to hum under her breath as she worked, thinking vaguely of the Doctor being down the corridor in the console room where he belonged and now where she belonged too.
This was really happening, he was really back, and she was back too, and something had finally clicked into position as he had taken her hand and asked her to come with him to the TARDIS, something they could both finally start to admit. It was exhilarating and frightening and familiar and right all in equal measures and the emotions played across her face as the adrenaline came in fits and starts between her ribs. The long cold months since Danny's death stretched behind her and for the first time since that day the future looked oddly hopeful if somewhat unusual. Well she liked unusual, she had missed it. And as she thought of the Doctor her heart jumped again to know that she didn't ever have to go back to a life without him in it.
Her hum went up a notch and she began to put words to it.
'God rest ye merry gentlemen, yet nothing thee dismay…'
Well it was still Christmas day.
'You sound cheerful,' he remarked from the door. Clara jumped and threw a pair of balled socks at him. He ducked easily. Superior Time Lord reflexes she expected.
'It's Christmas! It's what people do at Christmas, sing carols and…'
'Throw socks at people?' he smirked.
'No! Only I do that apparently. I was just feeling…'
'Festive?'
'Not festive, festive is the wrong word. Cheerful, you were right, cheerful is the word.'
'Good,' he looked at her kindly, 'But please don't establish sock flinging as a new Christmas tradition.'
'I won't, this Christmas is weird enough already, but at least you haven't died this year,' Clara retorted and then immediately regretted her choice of words when he flinched at her comment.
'Sorry, last year wasn't a great Christmas for either of us,' she conceded. The Doctor stared for a long time at the tip of his polished boot.
'No… it wasn't,' he said. 'But I suppose you're right today is technically Christmas day.'
'Don't worry I think I'm all Santa'd out for one year,' Clara returned to folding clothes. She suspected the Doctor would rather like to avoid Christmas entirely having lived in a town of the same name for over six hundred years. There was too much of a good thing after all.
'That's a pity,' he said drawing a curious look from her.
'You hate all that stuff,' she said.
'Do I?'
'Yes, it's the exact opposite of you on so many levels.'
'Oh,' his eyes roamed around the room absently, 'Well if you're right, and from what I remember Clara Oswald is always right,' she glared at him, 'I'd better clear away dinner then…'
'Dinner?'
'Yes, seeing as you're all Christmas'd out.'
'Christmas dinner?'
He allowed his eyes to meet hers again. 'Well I meant what I said, Clara, in the dream, I won't necessarily make you wear the party hat but the rest of it, the meal, the cracker, we should do that every year…'
Clara felt her eyes mist as she watched him and the effort he was putting into making her happy. 'You're really doing this in style aren't you?' she joked and failed to appear casual.
'Don't get sentimental on me,'
'Christmas is all about sentiment,'
He sighed, 'Yes so I'm beginning to see, I'll do my best but don't expect miracles. Now come on… Turkey's getting cold.'
XXXXXXXX
Clara had to admit it the TARDIS could cook. Well actually the Doctor could cook but she didn't want to admit that. Not to his face anyway or she would never hear the end of it. Right now though all she wanted to do was lie on the couch and digest and luckily the ship had provided a sofa in what turned out to be the Doctor's private study. It was a room which tapped into all of Clara's romantic notions about Victorian literature, lit by gas lamp and firelight with rich paintings on the walls and books everywhere. She noted with a sort of smug glee that the Doctor had arranged for the room to be decorated for the season, in period decorations of course, something which she had to concede looked a good deal classier than tacky tinsel.
Clara was drowsy and the surroundings comfortable but a part of her didn't want to miss a moment of this new world she had chosen to live in. This was the Doctor's very private world, beyond the adventures and the console room, tucked away in the depth of his beloved TARDIS with his belongings and his memories. She knew that some of the paintings on the walls here were done by him, that some of the people in them might have been past companions, and that maybe he would share that with her. Already they were becoming closer. It felt like they had expelled enough energy on keeping apart and that now they had taken the decision to be something more, they were pulled together by an unseen force much stronger than either of them.
They had shared a meal and with each mouthful Clara had watched him relax more. There was something magical about his transformation from the entirely careworn Doctor who had come to her on the rooftop just hours before to this decidedly animated version who seemed to blossom under her gaze, suddenly daring to believe that yes she really was there and yes, he was good enough, she wanted him. She couldn't stop watching, couldn't take her eyes from him and even now as she leaned into the soft cushions she was merely suspended, waiting for him to join her.
When he did he sat at her side and without hesitation slipped one arm around her shoulder pulling her close. Every time he made a little gesture of affection over the course of the evening Clara noted and filed it for future reference, proof of his feelings that she still couldn't quite believe. It seemed that when he had the confidence, he bloomed, and touch came more easily to the man who never hugged. Clara thought of their parting and the words he'd used to explain why he avoided each embrace.
A hug is just a way of hiding your face.
She understood that now there was no need to hide, for either of them, from either of them and the knowledge that they were finally as one had given him the strength to be vulnerable with her. He nuzzled her hair and let her curl against him and a stillness settled over the room that didn't need to be broken by talk or action. There was endless time for that and no hurry to take things further yet. These first days would only come once and she wanted to feel each moment, each beat of his hearts beneath her hands. It was perfect. It was all going to be alright.
She closed her eyes and listened to the crackle of wood on the fire.
'Long day?' he asked with a hint of amusement in his voice. Clara opened her eyes again to see him standing by the mantel with a glass of something in his hand. Asleep. She'd fallen asleep and he'd moved out from under her, leaving her curled on her side.
'Well I was busy sleeping but then this alien came and dragged me out of bed in the middle of the night…'
He snorted, 'Sorry next time I'll let your brains get digested until it's a more convenient hour,' he sipped from his glass and Clara watched as the firelight danced in the crystal.
'Touché,' she replied and scooted up the sofa a little. 'Come sit with me?'
The Doctor looked at her thoughtfully before dropping his gaze to his glass. He made no move to join her.
'Please?' Clara said. He seemed torn and she could feel her anxiety rising inside her. He'd been so relaxed before, where had this reticence come from? She vowed never to fall asleep again and was about to make some sort of move herself when he placed his glass on a nearby table and crossed the room, sliding into the loveseat beside her. Clara turned to face him, at the same time stopping him from escaping by pinning him in the corner.
'Thank you,' she said, 'For doing all of this.'
'You're very welcome,' he replied softly. Clara let her hand edge forward and take one of his only realising that she had been holding her breath when he entwined their fingers and she reflexively exhaled. 'I didn't expect you to be the nervous one,' he said catching her eye.
'I'm surprising myself here,' she confessed. Clara felt his free hand gently brush a strand of her hair and then travel slowly down her back, nudging her closer. She felt butterflies flicker in her chest and looked down to find their thighs scissoring each other. She wanted to be closer still, she wanted to be kissing him, running her hands over his chest, feeling his hair between her fingers. Clara closed her eyes and felt a blush come over her face and a shake in her breath. There was a creak and she was aware his weight had shifted on the sofa, that his breath was coming over her jaw now, that his lips were a whisper away.
The hand that held hers pulled back gently taking her with him, positioning her so that her arm wrapped around his waist, pulling her against his body. Clara could feel heat coming from him for the first time and instinctively leaned into it as it seeped through her clothing. She could still feel his breath on her face so tantalisingly close.
'Doctor, please,' she murmured.
She wondered if he would say something. She wondered if he would suddenly be filled with doubt or nerves. But she barely had long enough to wonder before his lips came full onto hers, soft, hungry, perfect. She opened her mouth to him and felt a shot of pleasure go through her as his tongue entered her. He was gentle but there was no mistaking the need behind his touch, the palms of his hands hot on her back, hips and breasts.
Between them the heat grew stronger until Clara began to wonder if he was actually on fire. She raised her hands to his chest and tugged at his shirt, pulling apart buttons and reaching skin. But it seared against her fingers and with a sudden gasp of pain she drew back, staring down at where she had been touching. He followed her eyes with a look somewhere between shock and fear.
'Doctor? What's happening?'
But it was un-missable and distinctive, there was no mistaking what was happening. The heat burning from his chest was spreading now and as he held out his hands in front of him Clara saw the one thing she had prayed to never witness again as long as she was with him.
The amber fire of regeneration.
XXXXXXXX
'No!' Clara shot upright on the sofa with such force that she knocked the Doctor's glass from his hand. It crashed to the floor and shattered sending sparkling shards of crystal across the candlelit room like hot ashes from fire.
'Clara!' his tone was a mixture of irritation and concern. She spun in her place, a haze of sleep spiked with adrenaline leaving her confused, and clamped her hands down over his chest. His shirt and waistcoat were still in place, buttons fastened, and there was no sign of regeneration. Clara stared at her fingers. The Doctor stared at them too and then up at her face with a look that questioned her sanity.
'Um…' she said.
'Clara?'
'Bad dream?' she hazarded.
'You don't say,' he replied in a bemused tone. 'Care to share it?'
'No!' she said a little abruptly.
'There's no need to be embarrassed Clara, whatever it was sounded like it didn't start off too badly… sounded rather fun actually…' Clara flushed as she remembered the first part of her dream and put her hands over her face.
'Shut up,' she said.
The Doctor retrieved his sonic from the jacket hung over the back of the sofa and used it to clean up the shattered crystal.
'OK not another word,' he smiled, the picture of relaxation and contentment.
'Shut up!' Clara sprung up from the sofa and towards the fire. She couldn't look at him. Her thoughts were racing. So it had been a dream. What the first bit meant was obvious but the second part? He had been regenerating under her touch and regenerating meant dying. But he wasn't dying like he had been on Trenzalore, worn out by hundreds of years of war, this body was new, a year since his last regeneration. Dying? He couldn't be dying.
What if he was dying? Why was he dying? What did it have to do with her, if anything? Dream symbolism or dream reality? And if he did die, if he regenerated again how would she cope, she had let him down so badly the last time, she had failed to see past the veil for so long.
She was dimly aware of him rising from the sofa, his tone changing from that pleasant relaxed purr to one of concern and some tension.
'Clara, what is it? Whatever you dreamed, it's just a dream.'
'After what we've just been through how can you say that?' Clara turned to him with a panicked expression. What if they hadn't woken up and all of this too perfect, too easy intimacy was an illusion?
He spread his arms and turned on the spot a little, 'No dream crabs, I promise, not one. This time it really is an ordinary dream.'
'No… it wasn't…. it might not be dream crabs but it wasn't ordinary…Not for me.'
'Care to expand?'
She wrapped her arms around herself and looked painfully into the fire, the heat from it radiating into her eyes almost painfully.
'Sometimes they aren't just dreams, sometimes they're echoes,' she said quietly.
'Was this one an echo?' The Doctor approached her with an air of relaxed curiosity.
'I… I don't know I can't tell…'
'Well even if it was you can't change anything about it. Echoes come from the past, other lives, other times, distressing maybe but ultimately harmless.' He came up behind her and so gently slid his arms around her that she could have wept at his touch. She was still replaying the images of his body burning in her head.
'I… I think it was an echo…' she said half to herself.
'Well if it was don't worry,' he leaned down and gently placed a kiss on her neck, drawing her tight against him and she suddenly ached to be kissing him as she had been in the dream. Echo. Maybe. Its image gripped her, it meant something and he had to understand how deeply it frightened her. Clara spun in his arms and very deliberately took hold of his face.
'What if it isn't from the past?' she said to his somewhat surprised countenance.
'What? Clara this would be a lot easier if you just told me what you dreamt of.'
'No.' She couldn't, she just couldn't drop that possibility into their lives. If she spoke it out loud it would make it real. It had to be a dream, just a dream, not an echo, not a possibility, just a dream.
'No?'
She looked down and he sighed. 'You really are Impossible sometimes,' he commented with a fond smile, 'Forget about it, your brain is probably still jumbled from the crabs, everything will be alright I promise, don't let it spoil this evening, there are much nicer things to think about… or better still don't think at all.'
He was right, he was the Doctor and he was always right. He would know if there was something wrong, if he was dying, she had to trust him. Clara let her hands slip to his shoulders and then down over his chest as his mouth began to make tracks on her neck again, but the images wouldn't leave her. Even as he kissed the angle of her jaw and breathed soft air across her lips, even as she opened her mouth in response to his and savoured for the first time the taste of him and the feel of his tongue against hers. Even as she finally held the Doctor in her arms and her body cried out with joy at the sensation of him hard against her flesh, all she could see in her mind was his death.
His words did nothing to reassure her because she knew something which he had forgotten.
Sometimes echoes came from the future.
