A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who read the first bit of this! And a big thanks to those who reviewed! Instead of posting this as another oneshot I figured I could group them together as a series of related oneshots.
Disclaimer: The only part of Doctor Who I own is my unabashed love of it. The rest belongs to the BBC and company. Harry Potter was my childhood but I do not own anything to do with it either, save my Gryffindor pride.
If you were to ask me in this very moment what accomplishments in my life I am most proud of, I would probably have to start by saying my Bachelor of Arts. That may seem like a strange reply when I am sitting outside a tea shop in Yorkshire, 1893, but it is most definitely how I feel right now. It may sometimes seem insignificant compared to everything I have done since I met the Doctor, but I just saw something that made me appreciate it far more than ever.
While sitting outside of the teashop, waiting for the Doctor, or rather my darling husband Doctor John Smith, to reemerge from inside I heard a man talking to the woman he was walking with. I don't know if she was his wife, or his sister or what, but he interrupted her in the middle of a sentence saying "Matilda, you read too much, it is putting funny ideas into your head." The woman looked so dejected, and just dropped her eyes to the cobblestones in front of them and kept walking silently.
Here I am, sitting across the street and a hundred some years away, with an Honours English degree, which I earned by reading too much and getting funny ideas. Yes, I am very proud of that right now. This sudden puffing of pride in my education makes me remember a very frightening day when I thought I wouldn't be able to graduate.
I can see the irony very easily from where I am sitting, but the truth is that I hated history in high school, and did my best to avoid it thereafter. Unfortunately, one of my required classes for university was a history class, which had a very old professor who droned on but all I heard was meh meh meh meh.
Needless to say I was not very good at paying attention in class, and my other books were always so much more interesting that I kind of neglected my readings too… I found out how bad this neglect was when we got our midterms back… I had never done so badly on anything in school, and I just cracked, tears falling down my cheek as I walked away, making a dash for a usually unoccupied part of the library to collect myself. I was Clara Oswald and I didn't let anyone see me cry.
I sat down, and suddenly a cup of tea appeared in front of me, put there by a girl with an incredibly scared look on her face. When I asked what she was doing, she blushed and told me it was because she had been behind me in line to get the midterm back, and tea was always the best remedy when someone was sad.
I don't know why, but suddenly my fear of failing the class and how horrible I had been doing all gushed out of me, how boring I found it, how pointless it seemed, how none of these dates and names meant anything to do with me, these people were far away and nothing like me. I spilled my heart out to a girl I didn't know. She sat down to listen and gave me a small smile when I finished talking, pushing the tea closer to me.
She shyly pulled out a laptop from her bag, and asked if she could try to change my mind about not being anything like the people from the past. I agreed… We then spent the afternoon going through old letters from soldiers in the First World War, diaries kept by ladies in the court of Queen Elizabeth I, pictures of graffiti on the walls of Pompeii, cook books from medieval Italy, art doodled in the margins of medical students notes from somewhere in Napoleon's France…
The afternoon passed quickly, and it was kind of amazing. When we were done she just smiled at me and said something I will never forget. "History is the most hopeful thing I have ever seen. People from a thousand years ago weren't much different from us in many ways, yet look at how different the world is now. Nothing changes in many respects, yet nothing ever stays the same."
This stranger became one of my best friends. With her enthusiasm guiding my way I got a solid mark in that history class.
I was brought out of my musings by a rather large hand being waved in front of my face.
"Oy, Clara, are you okay? I don't think you have heard a thing I've said. Have you been attacked by nargles? Clara? Hello!"
The Doctor's eyes were locked on mine and he looked genuinely worried about me. I couldn't help but laugh a little at him, though I appreciated the concern.
"I'm fine, just thinking of a friend I haven't seen in a while, hoping she is doing okay."
Clara Oswald you have done it again. The Doctor's face drops, sadness and fear shining through his eyes… It is that look, again, the one where he looks like he is either scared of me or scared for me.
Nervously I start to turn the beautiful dark silver band currently gracing my left ring finger, admiring the facets in the purple stone. He has two cups of steaming tea in front of him, one meant for me. I reach across the table and take it, brushing my hand against his as I do so, before sipping the tea and complimenting him on his choice of venue to try and bring him back.
"Yes, very fine establishment, it smelled like one I previously visited in Victorian Cardiff which had excellent tea so I hoped this one would be just as good."
"What were you doing in Victorian Cardiff?" I can't help but ask, I mean, all of time and space, why would someone choose to go to Cardiff?
"Well… Actually… I might have been aiming for London at the time…" He mumbles looking very embarrassed and flustered, choosing now to squarely focus on the tea in front of him.
Funny coincidence, he had been aiming for London this time too, the quaint streets of London 1893 had been his exact words. Instead we had ended up in one of the major industrial sites of the North.
"Excellent work Doctor Smith. You managed to miss London by almost twice the distance this time."
"Why thank you Mrs. Smith." He says with as much dignity as he can muster. We both laugh at that. Having finished our tea we get up to continue on our way. As we walk away arm in arm, I see two ladies walk by whispering to each other and giggling. Their pace quickens when they see me looking at them.
I wish my friend could see this, see how right she was, two girls from the past behaving exactly like they would be if they were from our time. Giggling and gossiping in the streets, valuing laughter and sharing something with each other much more than their modesty even in the proper atmosphere of Victorian England. I would probably appreciate it even more if I didn't know what the source of their gossip was.
"Clara, seriously are you okay?" I know that Dame Rowling thought she invented nargles as a work of fiction but they really do exist and they really do mess up your head. Of course at the time she did kind of invent them I guess, but when her works were finally translated into Cartesian, no I'm not taking any credit for it at all, they realized that nargles had existed in the Sartal System all along. They're originally from Janorax, tiny little planet, mostly purple, natives seem to be a touch colour blind, possibly because of the nargles messing with their minds or possibly because of the monochrome but they do make fantastic pies. Avoid the bananas though; they never let them ripen properly, probably because they can't discern between the yellow and green so well... Are you listening to me? Clara? Clara?"
I pull him down a bit closer. "I'm fine dear, honestly."
"If you insist." He says, still looking at me funny, his free hand drifting towards the pocket where his sonic screwdriver was resting.
Okay Doctor, you are not scanning me, it's time for some fun. I suddenly swipe his bowler hat from his head and run off as he yells after me and comes running. I know I won't get far; he is a foot taller than I am and can actually breathe because he isn't stuffed into a corset, but he is way too fond of silly hats and I need to get him to stop worrying about me and smile again.
As predicted, I don't make it very far before his hand snakes around my waist, pulling me close before grabbing the hat from me. I am laughing and so is he, though he tries to look upset for a moment. We just stand there, me wrapped in his arms, both laughing, probably looking quite silly. And by silly I mean like a perfectly normal, young, recently married couple who are completely enamored with each other.
Remember when I said that I knew what the source of the gossip for those two girls were? Yeah, that would be us…
We've been staying at a little inn. The moment we stepped out of the TARDIS there were hysteric screams, such a good sign. Although we ran off to see what was going on, by the time we got to where the Doctor said the screams originated from there were a bunch of uniformed men in line telling people to move along.
I've got a bad feeling it was my fault we didn't make it, as I said I can't really run very fast in this contraption. The Doctor never blamed me though. It isn't like him to stay put, but he thinks that if we wait whatever the trouble is will turn up again. The aforementioned inn is where the ladies who walked by work as maids. Maids who do things such as change the guest's sheets every morning and who roam the halls at night cleaning the floors.
Out in public we present the perfect picture of a married couple, most of the time without trying. Obviously though, the maids aren't finding… Other signs of our affections though... Because that is not happening, because none of this is real, which is something even I have to remind myself of several times a day. The acting is too easy, probably because most of it isn't acting for me at least. I'm too comfortable with the little touches, lingering stares and sweet gestures. I shouldn't be. I really shouldn't be at all.
Those decidedly unruffled sheets and the silence emanating from our room at night which makes the maids giggle and wonder what on earth is wrong with us are what I need to remember. I sleep in the bed; he sleeps on the tiny couch, when he sleeps at all. That is reality.
The end of our embrace and the warm smile we share feels pretty real though. I straighten that ridiculous hat of his before he offers me his arm again and we set off. We don't get far though before we hear screams from the general direction of the bridge down the road. The Doctor gives me a look of pure excitement, before shifting his arm so he is now holding my hand as we race off as fast as I can manage to the sounds of horror.
When we arrive on the scene, there is a very desperate sounding man being pulled away by some police officers.
"Look look its another one. See! Why won't any one of you listen!?"
"We'll listen." The Doctor says, having dropped the giddy look and now standing fully upright, casting an air of confidence. Someone means business right now, down boy.
Here we go again. My very kind friend was right in more ways than she knew. No time period is different for the Doctor. There is always someone who needs help, and he is always there to listen to them.
