AN: Here's a short little one-shot I was originally not going to post, it was just written for a friend. But...I sort of ended up liking it? Be gentle, it's my first attempt at Twelve. Also, this turned out more like Twelvexeveryone, or maybe TwelvexRose. Not my intention, whoops!
The Doctor doesn't know why the idea of Clara going on a date scares him, but it does. It's because he'll be alone once more, and she won't spend as much time traveling. He knows how those silly ape relationships go.
So, for now, he takes solace in the fact that her schedule with the guy hasn't lined up for that date yet (mostly because of their travels, if he's being honest) and diverts his attentions from the blackboard where he'd be doing Gallifreyan math to the companion in question.
She's swiveling in his chair. He rolls his eyes at her and says, "Take a punt."
"Right," she said like she doesn't believe him.
"Your choice,' the Doctor insisted. "Wherever, whenever, anywhere in time and space."
How many times has he offered the same to his companions? Especially when he's mucked it up with them?
"Well, there is something I've always wanted to see," Clara said, then paused, chewing on her lip thoughtfully.
"What is it?" he asked, trying not to sound excited about a new adventure in this ship with a wonderful companion.
"No," she shook her head finally. "I know what you'll say." She turned away from him and stared at the TARDIS doors.
"Try me," the Doctor challenged her.
"You'll say he's made up, that there's no such thing," Clara said indignantly, firmly keeping her positon with her back to him.
"Go on," he prodded. If there was something the Doctor never missed, it was the chance to be impressive.
"You think you're so impressive." A tongue touched grin.
"I am so impressive!"
"It's…" she paused, considering. "It's Robin Hood."
"Robin Hood," he reapeated, like he wasn't sure that he heard her. That was ridiculous! Didn't she know he was a made-up story…
"Wait, don't tell me there's a Notty!"
Clara turned to face him and jumped up form the chair, she walked up the ramp towards him, beaming with enthusiasm now. "Yeah!"
"He's made up," the Doctor told her. "There's no such thing."
"Ah," she said like she knew the answer all along. "You see?"
"Old fashioned heroes only exist in old fashioned stories, Clara," he told her.
"And what about you?" she retorted, and he finds himself reeling from her comment.
"Me?" he asked in surprise. What did Robin Hood have to do with him?
"Yeah, you." Clara shrugged. "You stop bad things from happening every day. That sounds pretty heroic to me."
A golden light surrounding an ordinary shopgirl from London. She defeated every single Dalek in existence, all for him.
"Yeah, well, I'm just too good."
"Just passing the time," he told her. He couldn't have Clara thinking he was a hero. He was no hero. Just a broken old man who's curse was to wander all of time and space. It's why he couldn't do it before, it's why he couldn't be with Clara now. Not that he wanted to be, he scolded himself. You're just lonely. And when you're lonely you cling to things.
Like shopgirls from London or impossible teachers from the North.
"Hey, what about Mars?" he asked suddenly, already springing for the coordinates button.
"What?!" Clara exclaimed.
"The Ice Warrior hives," he said, remembering the encounter they had with one not long ago.
"You said it was my choice," she reminded him.
He huffed. "Or the Tumescent Arrows of the Half-Light. Those girls can hold their drink."
Like Time Agents with hypervodka.
"Doctor," she warned.
"And fracture fifteen different levels of reality simultaneously. I think I've got a Polaroid somewhere," he rambled on.
"Doctor!" she said firmly. "My choice. Robin Hood. Show me."
"Very well," he agreed, although not very easily. He sets the coordinates for what she wishes. "Earth, England, Sherwood Forest. 1190 AD-ish. But you'll only be disappointed."
Or he hopes she will be.
…..
Well, now he's gone and done a foolish thing because his pride and the TARDIS were insulted, when much to his annoyance, Robin Hood was real.
Very real, and very interested in Clara.
So, when the thief challenged him to a duel, duel he did. Not that he hadm uch support, thank you very much. Clara insisted he wasn't going to win. He did have him! Before he was pushed into the water.
"Doctor, just leave it!"
"How could I? That wanker hurt you!"
"Please. You'll only get yourself hurt!"
He set off, paying no mind to her and punched the boy in question in the face. He was rather pleased that he heard a sickening crunch and turned back to proclaim his triumphance when the bloke punched back.
Now the thief in question has taken Clara and himself back to his band of "merry men". Who are they kidding with all of that anyway?
"Right, that isn't even funny," he told Clara, wanting her to pay attention to him instead. "That was bantering! I am totally against bantering.
She stuck her tongue out at him and his hearts beat louder for a moment. "How can you be so sure he's not the real thing?"
"Because he can't be!" the Doctor insisted.
"When did you stop believing in everything?" she asked.
A white blinding light, a cold void, and a scream more terrifying then nightmares. She slipped away….
"When did you start believing in impossible heroes?!" he fought back.
"Don't you know?" she asked, and he did, he did know, but he would deny it to himself because he had travelled this road before and it always ended badly. He made a bad God. "In a way it's rather sweet." She smiled at him but turned away to join Robin Hood's men once again.
…..
Robin had his hands on Clara in a rather inappropriate way, and he found himself feeling that if this had been 3 lifetimes ago, and she had been a different woman, he would be more offended than he was.
He saw her reach up to kiss the other man's cheek and walk into the TARDIS.
Robin sauntered over to the Doctor. "So, is it true,Doctor?" he asked.
"Is what true?" he asked, frowning. What had Clara told him?
"That in the future I am forgotten as a real man? I am but a legend?"
He could lie to him, he knows. But he won't. "I'm afraid it is."
"Hmm." The man ponders this. "Good."
The Doctor is surprised at his answer.
"History is a burden, stories can make us fly."
There is a little girl, who is waiting for you in a garden. Go to her, tell her a story.
"I am still having trouble believing yours, I'm afraid," the Doctor said.
"Is it so hard to credit?" Robin Hood asked. "That a man born of wealth and privelge found the plight of the weak and oppressed too much to bear?"
No," he said without a pause to think. He knows this story, it is his own.
"Until one night he is moved to steal a TARDIS?" he asked, eyes twinkling. "Fly among the stars, fight the good fight. Clara told me your stories."
He wondered how she painted him in them. "She should not have told you any of that."
"Well," Robin began, "once the story started, she could not stop. You are her hero, I think."
"You have your hymns and your songs, I have the Doctor!"
Oh, his Clara had started to think too much of him. More than he deserved. Just like all of them had. "I'm not a hero," he told the man firmly. Because he wasn't.
"Neither am I," he said solemnly. "But perhaps if we both keep pretending, hahaha! Perhaps, others will be heroes in our name. Perhaps we will both be stories. And may those stories never end."
For the first time in his very long life, the Doctor started to understand why it was important his companions continued to see him as a hero. Even if it was a title he did not want to bear.
