The chapter is long and most chapters in this fic will be about this length. But with one or two weeks between updates (if I am lucky) that should be fine, right?
Clara note: I like Clara, not love but I do like, and this Clara is based off of S7. I had started this story before s8 began and so my Clara is not like the Clara from s8, she a sort of amalgamation of what I saw from s7 and my own creation I suppose. So if you don't like her please put it aside for the story. Thanks!
Chapter One - I'd Give Up Forever To Touch You
-Twenty-six years after Manhattan-
He came awake to the sensation of a dainty hand lightly tracing 'love' or 'sweetie' in various languages and symbols over his right heart. Eyes still closed, he began to catalogue the languages, including Gallifreyan. Smiling and chuckling softly when he felt 'sweetie' spelled out in pig latin.
"Did you dream? " A throaty voice sleepily mumbled. He could feel her breath tease across his chest and her lips brush against his skin ever so slightly, loving and enjoyable reminders of the night before.
The Doctor ran a hand slowly over the silky skin of her thigh and the curve of her hip. As he opened his eyes, he took in the beautiful mass of jasmine and spice scented curls that infringed his vision.
"Mmm, a bit. Vague images " He replied tilting his head forward enough to kiss the top of hers, where it rested on his chest.
River moved further up so her eyes could meet his. He adored the soft intimate smile she gave him as their eyes locked. A smile only for him.
"Pleasant I take it? " She asked softly. One of her hands entwined with his between them.
He smiled back and ran a finger tenderly along her jaw line as he replied, "Enough. Red grass, gold red sky... falling silver leaves. "
"Gallifrey" The Doctor loved the breathless way the word spilled from her lips.
"Yes " he nodded, resting his free hand on her side once more, as they now fully faced each other. His brows scrunched together as he tried to recall more of the impressionist like images that had played in his dream. "I think.. there was running. Boy feet... a memory from childhood. I remember a root, a tree root. I use to obsess over it. "
River laughed, and in that moment caused his hearts to skip as it reminded him of the sound of those leaves rustling against each other. It didn't matter that her laugh was nothing like it. River had a way about her that constantly stirred in him memories of home.
"You obsessed over a root? A root?"
The Doctor lightly scowled at her before letting an indulgent grin take over. River loved to hear about Gallifrey, his childhood and the Time Lords, really anything from his life. And when it came to her, he couldn't really resist sharing.
"Yes, a root! It was a cool root! " He defended. "Twisted in on itself in such a way it formed a perfect circle. Nearly perfect, stuck right out this rooty circle. Big enough for me to stick my foot in. I used to lay on the ground and stare up at the branches. My hand through the eye of the root, it often felt like I could feel the tree's life pulse when I did. Like a heart beat. That if I closed my eyes I could see the forming of the world around it. Wasn't until I was older I realized some of what I felt was time sense, the history of the tree and the area itself. "
River reached up to brush a bit of fringe from his eyes. Her eyes were a little sad, though she still wore the smile.
"What's wrong? " he asked.
"Nothing. I just–" She rested her hand against the side of his face, "I just wish I could have seen Gallifrey with you, that you–" She shook her head.
Taking her hand, he kissed her palm. "So do I. " He whispered back and swallowed away the emotion. He knew it hurt her, too. She had a piece of that world in her. She was human, yes, but she was also the child of the TARDIS. Time flowed in her, wrapped itself around her much the same way it did him, any Time lord. Of course she would feel that absence, the hole left by his people, their people.
"I can show you...the root. " He offered. He had shared memories before with her, though not often; sometimes it was simply too painful. What they usually did share was the merging of minds. A melding of feelings, senses, and even thought. Most often when they made love and sometimes just in the company of each other, when it was quiet and all either of them needed was the other. It eased the pain in his hearts, to share that kind of intimacy, where they were no longer two people but for a brief time completely one.
River nodded, her eyes never leaving his, as she sat up and straddled his hips. Her bare skin warm against his own. Gold red curls cascading around him as she leaned down to press her forehead to his. He smiled and ran his hands up her sides before brushing the curls back to cup her face.
The Doctor ran his thumb tenderly over the apple of her cheek. He placed a tender kiss on her lips as he dropped the psychic barrier that guarded his mind and felt her pull hers down.
Her mind was open to him except for a few closed doors. Necessary doors that he also had in his own mind, there to guard spoilers and/or painful bits of past that neither could share.
The feel of her mind touching his was comforting, and the tactile sensation of her skin against his own, along with the feel of the sheet covering them, was quite erotic. He knew his body was reacting and ignored it, sensing her smirk and pleasure at the physical intimacy and his reaction to it.
But more importantly, she waited, like her whole being was holding a breath, for him to show her. He drew her in as he immersed himself in century old memories of a hillside with silver trees and a circular root.
She gasped both out loud and in his mind. While they had shared memories before, each time was still just as startling as the first time. It was more than just a visual sharing... like showing someone a photo. It was more real than that. He let them both sink into the past, the feel of grass beneath bare feet, the beating of twin suns against their backs, the whisper of wind rustling through silver leaves.
In his mind he saw her, white airy dress fluttering lightly around her, gold curls shimmering brightly under Gallifreyan suns like she was an ancient goddess. The image made complete by her bare feet moving with grace and ethereal green eyes taking in every minute detail his memory conjured up.
While he was transfixed by her beauty paired with his home world, River made her way up the little hillside to the trio of trees. The tree on the far right leaned slightly, causing some of it's silver adorned branches to cast strange shifting shadows, tempered by peaks of sunlight over the ground.
It created quite an affect, and he smiled as he watched her go stand before it, caught up in it's mesmerizing display. Eventually her eyes caught sight of the root that sat hidden beneath the dancing shadows.
She glanced over at him with twinkling eyes as he came to stand beside her. "I can see what would fascinate a child. How old were you?"
"A few years into the Academy. Ten perhaps. " He replied. His chest suddenly aching as he was reminded that all of this; the daisy, the root, red sky and everyone he'd ever loved or cared about was gone. At his hands.
After a moment of quiet contemplation between them over the old tree root, River turned to face him, taking both his hands in hers.
"We don't have to stay." He started to protest but she shook her head and put a finger to his lips, "No don't tell me you're okay. You're forgetting I can feel what this is doing to you. "
He took a deep breath, "I'm fine. Yes, it hurts, but I am fine." He brought their hands up close to his chest between them and poured his sincerity out for her to feel, "I wanted to show you this. I am happy to show you this. "
River searched his eyes before leaning up to kiss him tenderly, running a hand up his chest to stop as it often did to adjust his bowtie. Like everything in the memory created reality around them, the kiss felt just as real as if they were truly standing there on a hill top under the shade of silver trees.
The Doctor found the kiss was far too chaste for his liking and couldn't help himself from leaning forward, following her as she pulled away. He sighed and she rolled her eyes playfully. "Ready?" she asked.
At his nod, River smiled softly before sitting down on her knees, placing her hand into what she had to admit was a nearly perfect circle. It was hard to tell where either end of the root started with how it formed back in on itself.
She gave a long almost guttural moan as he dug deep to find the cherished memories of what he felt every time he had done exactly what she was doing now. They began to trickle in at first, just brief glimpses, flashes of life before they began swelling in. Some of what he could share could only be seen as colours and others only felt by the senses: Life, death, and rebirth. Over and over, everything was bursting and flowing, drowning and erupting . History unfolded and laid out like an exploding star spreading ever outward and it all came from the small patch of earth beneath them.
After a while The Doctor became lost in the webs of time that came with later memories from a grown man. One who understood time sense and how to follow not only along the path of the past but see the strands of possible futures.
It hadn't been with intent. It never was, but it was one reason he never did this on his own, relived old memories in this way. The temptation was too great to bask, or in his case suffocate, in what had passed and when it came to Gallifrey it always ended in pain.
"Doctor NO! You can't! "
It was a funny thing to feel himself drown and feel her alarm, her fear for him as if it was his own. She was right, of course, he couldn't afford to go down that path. To trace the history of that root to it's end, Gallifreys end. Yet he hesitated, whether from a macabre curiosity or perhaps self punishing desire, he couldn't say.
His hesitation earned him a slap he felt both in reality and in his connection with her. The memory faded away till it was just the sensation of her mind sending waves of love and reassurance, while her hands stroked along his back, shoulders, and down his arms. At some point he had sat up fully with her in his lap.
"Sorry...I didn't mean, I wasn't trying -" He whispered against her lips.
"Hush my love " She returned before her mouth fell over his. Lips and tongue burning like fire against his in a heady contrast against the waves of tender love emanating from her mind.
The Doctor knew what this was, a distraction. Her protecting him from himself the only way she knew how. His River held no condemnation for him, for his mistakes or choices that threatened, always threatened to overwhelm him if he let them. Instead she made him face things when he needed to, and at other times she joined him as he ran away.
That alone gave him so much love for her. How or why she loved him at all he would never understand but he didn't need to. He knew he had it, could feel the depth of her love vibrate off her and pour into him and that was all that mattered, all he needed.
So he returned it, letting her feel all that she meant to him and all the millions of reasons why. Her arms had come up around his neck, her hands fisting his hair.
Their kiss had gone from a passionate embrace to a competition over who could dominate with teeth, nips and growls. Eventually his hands released their own grip around her and in her hair to caress along her back and sides.
Groaning as she nipped at his neck, her nails scraped across his back leaving fire in their wake. His hands found themselves once again in her glorious hair.
River moaned as he trailed hot, open mouthed kisses across her jaw and down her neck. Biting and scraping his teeth along her skin, before he pulled away so he could look into her eyes, cup her face. As their eyes locked, he felt tempted to say it out loud, three words they never said but implied continually.
Words that sometimes meant nothing they were given so easily, but other times those words could heal souls.
In their case they had the ability to shatter each other. For one day he would send her off to die, and one day she would run into a version of him who saw her as nothing more than a stranger. How could either of them recover if they said what could never be unsaid?
The Doctor swallowed back the words, keeping to the unspoken agreement. Mourning , as he often did, what they could never have.
"You mean everything to me " He thought to her instead, aching from the unshed tears that sat in her eyes.
"And you me. All that I have. " The word, left remained un-thought but it's existence couldn't be denied. The loss of her parents was a burden on them both, the passing years since Manhattan had not lightened the load.
This time when their lips met it wasn't to distract or compete but to give every ounce of love and adoration to the other. A tender caress of lips, mouths, fingers and hands, a thorough exploration of skin by taste, physical worship to reflect the depth of love.
As they made love, he opened himself as fully as he could. Shutting behind doors only the parts of himself she could never see, allowing her in to places she had not yet been. He wanted and needed her to cover everything inside of him, to crawl into his bones and replace damaged marrow.
Her mind hummed in approval and reciprocated. Willingly drowning him in her and seeking out the same in him. After a while there was no real distinction between the two of them, like the root so merged together the beginning of one and end of the other could not be found.
Her love for his hands and how they felt on her body reverberated between them. Just like his love for the burn under her jaw, as his tongue traced along it. It was a scar that could not be seen, only felt. He wasn't sure why nor could completely understand how feeling and knowing that the scar was there both aroused and comforted him.
River hummed again, this time from his thoughts and mouth lavishing over her scar. Her pleasure at feeling his spurred them both on. Rhythm, pace, and even ecstasy exponentially swelling, spilling over them, emotionally connecting them on a level neither had ever felt before.
Later as she slept in his arms, the Doctor cried. Silent tears etching lines into his face, creating invisible scars. He knew, he had seen it in her mind, the time for The Library had come.
It had flowed over him and seeped into his unconscious mind to settle on the surface once they had spent each other out.
All that saved him from having to explain his pain was that she slept on in peaceful ignorance. River had no idea that her excitement of coming plans, one which included an expedition to The Library, was killing him. That she should have locked it away behind a door.
Now he lay there knowing. Soon. It could not be avoided. Not that long ago she had ran into him on Asgard with a different face. That him had known who she was. He had been friendly enough from his guilt and oh so weary from his losses, too weary to do anything other then make it a pleasant enough experience for her. So much so that his wife had believed she had time yet before the day she dreaded.
Only her nightmare was ever so close. The same nightmare that was also the demon he could never escape. There was nothing he could do but let her go, so they... their love could ever have a chance.
He would not, could not rob her of that, no matter how much it would kill him. So the Doctor held her closer, cried silently into her curls and prayed to the universe for something he knew he'd never get.
-Victorian London - Many years later -
H is face was wet. The very first thought that hit him as his eyes flew open and the dream faded.
With a groan the Doctor rubbed his hands slowly down his face more out of pain than the care of the tears that had fallen.
Why wouldn't it stop?
He really wished it would. The dreams of her, the memories of her and even at times the feel of her presence there with him. While he deserved nothing less than this torment, he still desired it to end.
Sometimes, oh sometimes, in rare moments when he could truly be honest with himself, he entertained thoughts on how to achieve that end.
But they would pass. Why should he have peace when he had sent her off to die? When it was his fault so many lives were ruined? Or any of the million of reasons he felt he wasn't a good man.
a good man...
Yes a good man, the best man I've ever known.
No, he thought with a shake of his head as he stared at the ceiling, hearing her voice in his head. I really wasn't.
With a growl of frustrated despair, and annoyed he had dozed off in the first place the Doctor sat up straight in the jump seat by the console. He forced himself to retrieve, which to be honest he wasn't really reading, from the floor in the semi-darkness.
Funny enough ,when the dim light caught the crimson cover, he was reminded of the dream. Well more accurately the memory of River, them in bed. Love and heartache all tangled together under sheets and the weight of painful knowledge.
Dreams were demons.
When he had first come out of the war, he had avoided sleep so he wouldn't dream. It was too painful to sleep and remember. The Time Lord curse of sleep... when one needed it, it was to have such vivid dreams. Memories, fears come to light or even cryptic foretelling. More real and potent than what any human could imagine.
Dreams were just another reality. Rose coming into his life had slowly lightened the shadows of that reality, so if he gave in and slept or when he had no choice, it wasn't so hard. But her loss had made it worse, it wasn't just war and Gallifrey he dreamt of but a thousand different ways to save the girl, keep her with him, say the words he had failed to say.
Donna had lightened the load too, though not because he had been in love with her but by her simple friendship. She had made it better in a different way and again for a short while he escaped Rose, war and turmoil just a bit when he slept.
But losing Donna, and then Rose again had brought all back with a unrelenting fire that grew like sun about to nova while he raced from death. He had thought he was going to die. Knock four times and be the end of him, not just that version but him.
It didn't matter that he had seen a hint of a future where he had moved on, the fateful meeting of River Song. No ... because time could be rewritten. Time was always being rewritten to some extent, even fixed points couldn't escape the ever slow shift.
Running only earned him pain, running meant losing his mind and becoming something he had never wanted to be, not again, not after the war.
In the end he could not run or escape his fate. Only his fate had not been what he thought it was suppose to be. He condemned his people once again and saved an old man who truly was so much more worthy of life than he was. And in doing so he didn't just regenerate, he was renewed, old wounds healed just enough.
Not enough to escape the dreams however. Dreams, the never ending reminders and torments of a damaged soul. So it really had become a surprise when the woman he tried to avoid, because falling in love again seemed like another way to go mad, was the very way to escape his torment.
Oh, he did dream still, but in time as he fell for River who flowed into his life, flooding everything as she did, the dreams changed. They didn't just lighten as before. No, they changed almost completely. War, pain, loss, Rose, Donna.. all of that were still there at times but more often he remembered good days and dreamt of happy nonsensical things. It had been so long since he had a dream with little purpose other than to simply be; it had been one of the most beautiful gifts he had received from her.
He would sleep in Rivers arms and feel safe. The only left over torment was the one he managed to avoid successfully because he couldn't afford for her to see. Her death.
When that death finally came, so did everything else. The dreams of fire returned, as did everyone he had ever lost, the ones where he saved them, any of them in a billion ways. And even worse the foretelling ones.
As his eighth self they had been regular and often cryptic, he would write them down and move on. For much of what he saw he never understood until after the fact. But since the loss of his wife he dreamt things he knew would happen and others he felt had meaning, but they weren't content to live on a page and be swept away and forgotten.
They persisted. And the dream just now, the memory of showing her the root. Making love, of her scar, rang in his head like the TARDIS cloister bell. It meant something, had to…but what?
With an undignified snarl the Doctor jumped up from his seat, aggressively grabbing his jacket and top hat and refused a moment longer to entertain another thought on any of it. He would walk the streets of London and not think of her, of them, the dreams, nor any of the things he wasn't able to change.
- Present Day -
"Now, where did I put that? Wasn't it green? " The Doctor mumbled from somewhere underneath the console piece he was working on.
Clara didn't comment. She was supposed to be reading while she waited for him to finish, but her thoughts kept distracting her.
Lately, things had been different between them. Not necessarily in the way she possibly hoped for, and by possibly, it meant in the way she wasn't ready to admit to herself or was even completely sure she actually felt.
Clara hated the confused adolescent feelings. By this point in her life she shouldn't feel so... lost. She knew it was a bit of a crush but there were times when she wondered if it was more.
The Doctor was wonderful. Mysterious in a bewildering way with a certain draw about him. So, if honest, it really wasn't all that surprising that certain feelings were felt. But on the same vein he was mental, scary, and emotionally not available.
While some of that could be over come with time, one thing could not. If he wasn't receptive she had no chance even if she really wanted to pursue something. Which she honestly couldn't say for sure she did.
Clara frowned, only half listening as he tinkered with something on top of the console, this was why these thoughts were pointless. She had no idea how she really felt about him and was pretty darn sure he was gay.
It was possible he swung both way, considering he did have his flirty moments with her, very possible.
But what sealed it for her on him at least being gay was a certain name he mention with a particular tone and look on his face.
Oh, he mentioned other names. People who used to travel with him. He often rambled on about past adventures, extolling all the wonderful qualities of his old friends. Be wistful and even occasionally depressed.
Clara had come to realize that he worked hard to avoid painful memories. If a story started to head in what seemed that direction he would suddenly shift it or grow quiet for a moment before changing the topic completely. That was usually when he would later sulk for a bit before bouncing back as if nothing was wrong.
There was one absolute about him that applied to every situation Clara had learned fairly quickly. The Doctor did not discuss anything unless he really wanted to, or if she was lucky she caught him at a weak moment. But even then, only if he was willing.
He was the very definition at times for 'tight lipped'.
The people he most often spoke of were his Ponds as he called them. A married couple, who must have been very special to him from the way he talked and certainly not least was the enigmatic Professor Song.
The latter was why she started realizing that any flirting between them was really one-sided and often just a case of them getting caught up in a moment, or her desire to see him flustered.
The Doctor was quite amusing when flustered and seemingly scandalized.
The thing was he never started the flirting intentionally and if he realized he tended to get awkward which made Clara realize that he had an ex. Had to with how he reacted, and likely with barrel full of baggage.
Just her luck. Traveling in space and time with a handsome gay alien who was hung up on his ex.
What sealed it though was how the Doctor spoke of Professor Song, with loving admiration but no real helpful details. She knew Amy had once worked as a kiss-o-gram and was an adventurous red head. Her husband Rory a dedicated nurse with a distinct prominent nose and serious skills with a sword. Yet the Professor? The only thing she had been able to figure out was that he had been an archaeologist and the Doctor once let it slip that his first name started with an 'R'.
Robert? Ron? Reginald?
What kind of R name went with Song anyway?
In the end the lover angle was confirmed when the Doctor had mentioned accidentally, while telling her a (mostly vague) story, how they had ended up in a bed. Would have seemed innocent except he had babbled on about hiding always turning into a hands on situation.
Once he realized his slip he had turned a remarkable shade of crimson and began to stammer nonsense, looking like he'd swallowed a pack of Sour Patch Kids. It reminded her of her friend Sari who pulled a similar face when she got caught mentioning a boy she wasn't supposed to know in front her parents.
Thoroughly convinced the Professor was a lover, Clara had been hard pressed to entertain the feelings she didn't want to admit to possibly having. There was no way she was competing with a ghost or memory or ex lover.
Not happening.
Now here they were not quite two weeks after the ordeal of almost crashing the TARDIS and he was lighter, more carefree then he had been before. It was like some invisible weight had been lifted off him. Which was a bit odd considering, as he had later admitted, that they had lived through an alternate timeline where the TARDIS had been on the verge of exploding and apparently things had been pretty hairy. She was fairly sure he had even mumbled something about zombies creatures who were not zombies.
As usual Clara knew he had only given her a partial story but let it go as he just had seemed, happier. That happiness had not left even after a couple days.
He smiled at her more often, it reached his eyes in a way it hadn't before and she was loathe to risk losing it.
Of course the one thing the almost crash did for them both was deter either of them from the idea of her attempting to pilot the TARDIS.
That morning, however, he had surprised her with an idea over breakfast. He would, safely and with no risk, teach her some basics as he suddenly felt she should know something just in case of an emergency.
Which led to them roaming the ship and it's endless corridors to gather pieces before they ended up in some sort of garage. It was huge with various bits and bobs of alien technology spread through out, some bigger than the outside of the TARDIS. Interspersed among it all were, what she guessed were tools. Half of which she couldn't fathom the purpose of.
"Ah ha! And Done! " Came the sudden exclamation punctuated with an ungodly clang, startling her out of her thoughts and quite literally out of her skin.
Clara dropped the book and pressed a hand to her chest, glaring at the grin on the time lords face. "You really need to stop doing that!"
He frowned looking contrite for all of five seconds, " Sorry!" And then it was gone replaced once more with his goofy grin.
"I really don't know why I never thought of doing this before." He was saying as he moved from the far side of the makeshift mock up of the TARDIS console. "Would have made teaching Donna so much easier and less stressful."
Clara jumped down from where she had been sitting on some old looking crate type things, oddly enough it's surface had actually been kind of soft. "Also would have saved us living two days in the space of one. " She remarked, mimicking his own words.
The Doctor nodded as he moved towards her, almost looking like he was going to argue her point but instead replied, "True though sometimes double days have their merits.
And there returned the cryptic comments.
"So why did you teach Donna?" Clara wasn't entirely certain as to why she asked that question. Probably something to do with the fidgety body language and far off look in the Doctor's eyes.
"Did the TARDIS not like her either?"
"No. No, had no problem with her that I knew of. Besides Clara, she doesn't dislike you... " He leaned against the mock up.
"If she doesn't like me don't you think it means she dislikes me? " She pointed out. Picking up her book and setting it on the crate.
He frowned, "I told you she's like a cat, just needs time." He slapped the towel in his hand lightly against the top of her head. "Donna was good at nagging me once she decided she wanted to try something." He added with a soft smile, putting levers and what not into various positions.
Clara had the feeling 'nagging ' was an exaggeration and that he hasn't minded in the slightest.
"Anyway, it was mostly just teaching her how to fly through the Vortex, basic travel ...as basic as it can be, from a. to b. nothing fancy." Clara's heart dropped a little at the sudden sad shift in his eyes. "We never did finish..."
Not wanting to risk him losing that happiness Clara changed the subject, "How am I to know what is for what when this console doesn't exactly look like THE console?" She nodded with raised brows to the mishmash of things. There was faucet handles, what looked like a bike horn, and possibly even a set of trumpet pistons, none of which indicated what they were meant for.
The Doctor perked up and looked at her, "Oh well. It's not about how the parts look, but where they are positioned. I've had many versions of the console. Some more...eccentric I suppose than others. This is sort of a combination of two desktops I had before the current one along with whatever else I could find."
"Desktops?"
"Yeah, what the TARDIS console room looks like, the theme or style. Desktop. Like on a computer."
"Oh. " Clara nodded, "Okay so all this corresponds to the buttons and toggles on the other console?"
"Yep. Same function, just different ... icons if you will. Now the TARDIS almost always sets the layout based on where you come in from the doors. In this case- " He took a step to the right and started to move past the crate she'd been sitting on when his arm brushed up against it, knocking her book to the floor.
Clara rolled her eyes with a smile. He had tendency to lack arm or more precisely limb control. It often seemed like they had minds of their own and he was permanently in a state of surprise by that fact.
He bent down and picked up the book, turning it over to see the cover. Clara watched as he silently read the title "In the Eleventh Hour" and his soulful eyes jumped to the name of the author. His face lit up brightly while his voice cracked just a little, "You read Amelia Williams?"
The smile on his face was the biggest she had seen in ages. Contrasted sharply by the emotion in his eyes and voice, it made her heart skip a beat.
"Yeah. Really loved the first two of her series and I've been eager to start the third, figured it was a good time." She answered, curious at the way his fingers traced over 'Amelia'. "Doctor...Have you met her?"
Her question broke the spell and he looked up at her as if startled before his features settled into a mask of nostalgia, he smiled softly but his eyes were sad.
The Doctor gently put the book aside and took a deep breath, "Yeah, oh so long ago."
Unsure how to proceed Clara grabbed for the first rambling thought that popped in her head, "I bet she is.. was.. is fun." Deciding to stick to present tense considering he had a time machine, " With how she writes the adventures I can't picture her being any other way. What is she like?"
"Yes, she was fun. Adventurous." The Doctor responded while he moved to the other side of the console, flipping a couple of more switches and levers. Adding in almost a whisper, "She was someone a bit out of her time." It became clear he was trying to avoid looking at her and behaving as if he was in the console room. Something which seemed to dawn on him as his hands fell away from a lever, he had already moved pointlessly three times, and took a step back.
It was obviously a bad topic but Clara had no idea why or how to fix it so when he looked up a moment later and loudly announced it was time to start the lesson she let him. Pretending nothing was amiss and getting fully involved. Within a few minutes it was if it had all been forgotten as the lesson became quite intensive.
It was fun even if often confusing. It seemed a great deal of flying the TARDIS was about where you stood in conjunction to something else and in what order things got pushed, pulled, and or twisted.
Once they went over the basics of do's and don'ts and where to stand The Doctor began to show her the steps to fly the TARDIS if she ever needed to get herself home on her own and the emergency protocol failed to. She had only begun to become aware that it had to be nearly tea time when they were interrupted by a trilling sound.
"Yep.. stand there and walk two paces, remember - ." He was saying as they ran through the routine again, stopping mid sentence and tilting his head.
Clara looked up hearing it too.
It continued on and on and though it sounded muffled it became quite clear what they were hearing.
"Why is there a phone ringing?" Clara asked as she met the Doctor's perplexed expression. He scratched his head before glancing around.
"I didn't even know this garage had a phone" He spun about several times, hands pointing in different directions as he tried to locate the source.
"Who would be calling you, though? I mean how do you even get calls?" Clara wondered aloud as she began to look for the phone. The ringing seemed to be coming from all over as it echoed around the large area.
The Doctor stopped his phone investigation to momentarily give her an exasperated look. "I get phone calls. It's why I have a phone in the console room." Clara rolled her eyes at herself for forgetting that.
"Yeah, but who calls you? " She didn't get the impression that any of his former companions called or traveled with him anymore. He had made it seem to her that he hadn't traveled with anyone for quite a while before her.
"There are a number of...people. I've lived a long life Clara, I make friends! Or associates I guess you can say. People who call me!" He ended on a huff before shouting. "And gotcha!"
Clara jumped again and shot him a glare he didn't see. She watched as he quickly began to scramble over an area haphazardly stacked with alien junk. Though he could be so ungainly with his flailing arms and legs a good deal of the time, he was also extremely quick and deft at others. He covered the cluttered space, well over thirty feet, within a few minutes with only one yelp of pain.
The Doctor ended his journey to stand on a slightly tilted pod looking thing with what looked like horns sticking out the sides. Reaching down next to the wall, and triumphantly bringing out the still ringing phone a moment later.
"Hello!" He spoke into it with ease as if he hadn't just been clambering about. "Ah Vastra! My favorite Silurian."
He threw her a smile and pointed at the phone while mouthing. "See, a friend!"
Clara shook her head with a laugh. He grinned before focusing his attention back on the call. "Right right."
Sitting back on the crate, Clara noted when she looked back up at him the awkward glance he flicked her way as he replied into the phone, "Ohhhh, just...tinkering. Nope, not busy. Everything alright? You sound upset...Jenny and Strax okay?"
He went quiet, fidgeting with the phone cord, brows furrowed in concern before lifting in relief."oh, good good...Was there a - "
Trying not to listen in, though it was a bit impossible when the sound carried easily and the Doctor was making no attempt to keep his conversation private, still she felt relief that his friend was okay. That relief died quickly when she watched as the colour completely drained from his face. "Are...are you certain?" He began to shake like a leaf and Clara grew concerned he was going to fall from his precarious perch.
He cleared his throat and closed his eyes, the shaking stopped as he seemed to gain a hold over his nerves. "I'll be right with you. "
The Doctor hung up the phone and looked over at her, his eyes having lost all that happiness he had had for the last few weeks. Leaving a lump in Clara's chest.
They sat in her lounge, the Doctor some what rigid on the settee with a perplexed Clara beside him. A slightly awkward silence had settled over them once Vastra had given a brief account on the arrival of the letter and what it contained.
When the Doctor broke the silence it was almost flippant, eerily so."I'm sure it's nothing. River had likely been in some mischief and it resolved itself. " He waved a hand as if to dismiss any other notion.
Vastra eyed his body language more than she listened to his words. Word were often lies and with the Doctor this was a truth more often than with anyone else.
He lied to save, he lied to defeat and he lied to protect. What concerned her more than any of that was the lies he told himself.
His words told her he was pretending but the tension she could see in his frame spoke of fear. The kind of fear one has when they know they are to receive bad news.
The question was with River already gone, what exactly did he fear from the bit of her diary that he had yet to see?
"Ah! tea" he exclaimed as Jenny brought in a tray. Her eyes glancing curiously to Clara. Vastra shared that feeling as she watched the girl. The only thing the Doctor said in a quick aside was it was not the same Clara. Yet everything about her so far seemed alike. It was uncanny.
With a sigh, Vastra let him finish one of Jenny's pastries before she decided to press the matter, thankful Strax wasn't there at the moment. "Doctor, we both know River would have at least mentioned it if that was the case. "
He didn't respond, pretending he hadn't heard as he was inclined to do. Something which she knew simply wasn't true.
"I'm sorry I'm a little lost. Who ..." Clara asked softly when the silence started to stretch again, " is River?"
All eyes fell on her and Vastra noted as she glanced at the Doctor an odd and pained expression cross his face. Knowing it was likely to hard for him to explain Vastra answered for him. "River, she was his- " She couldn't help looking at Jenny before she finished, "River Song was his wife."
"Oh" Clara sat back a bit at that and like the Doctor she pulled an odd expression though hers was tinged with confusion rather than pain, Vastra wished she understood the subtext of it. "I am so sorry." The girl turned in her seat to the Doctor, her hand hovering over his own hesitantly before it finally settled to hold it.
He squeezed the girls hand, seeming to draw strength from the act, something which Vastra was grateful for.
Clara suddenly gave a puzzled frown, "Oh, wait... You mean Professor Song?" Glancing from Vastra to the Doctor who began to over analysis a pastry.
Vastra gave the girl a slight nod, "Yes. " She didn't like how The Doctor was trying to appear disinterested.
Clara sat back and glanced at the Doctor again, a clear mix of annoyance and confusion plainly written on her face that warred momentarily with the her empathy. Vastra could feel it off her, like a wave. She couldn't help but wonder what the Doctor had done to illicit this from the girl.
With him who knew? He was not only the brilliant genius but the daft idiot at times, an apt remark she remembered River saying once. The thought made her sad and her eyes went to Jenny again before she attempted to gain his attention.
"Doctor. We must deal with this. "
He continued to stare at the pastry, pretending to be oblivious to Clara. He responded low barely audible, "She's gone -" he closed his eyes as if he had lost patience for a moment. "What would be the point... in... "
"I know. Yet I do believe Doctor, you should at least read it. Perhaps, " She conceded. Hoping her next words would snap him out of it. "It isn't important and it is merely coincidence that it arrived at this time."
The Doctor's head shot up and he gave her blank stare as he whispered, "There is no such thing as coincidences. "
Vastra stared back intently. "Then it is important you read for yourself. It may not even be Rivers. "
When he gave no sign of disagreeing Vastra nodded to Jenny, "I wish I did not have to speak of any of this but it mentions the library. She seemed intent on telling you something there. "
This time, the doctor looked at her sharply and she felt a shiver go down her spine at the flash of anger in his eyes.
Jenny handed over the letter. He took it but did not open it, rather his eyes closed and he gave a long shuddering breath.
After a long moment and with a slightly shaky hand he brought the letter to his nose and breathed in.
It smelled of her. Jasmine, exotic spices, time. It was a cruel irony that she smelled of time when she had so little of it.
Opening his eyes the Doctor turned the folded sheet over in his hand. Taking in the worn edges, aged colour of the paper, the evidence of years. Of constant loving wear and tear from long life put to paper.
He didn't need to open it all the way to know it was hers, a brief glance was all he needed to confirm it was her handwriting.
Her familiar scrawl along with the smell and condition of the paper caused painful memories to tease at the fringes of his thoughts, bringing an ache in his chest as he struggled to keep intimate moments at bay. Ones of her on their bed recording their adventures, slapping at him playfully when he threatened to look (never mind it was his rule that he didn't see). He could almost hear the sound of her charcoal pencil scratching at paper as he'd wake to find her sketching him asleep. Her laughter and scolding when he'd purposely pulled a silly expression till she noticed.
There was no way now he could open it and read a single word without possibly bursting both his hearts. There was just too much River held there, another way she haunted him.
Putting the paper down into his lap, the Doctor shook his head. "It's hers but it doesn't mean anything. " His tone establishing the conversation was done. Coincidence or not he really couldn't afford to care.
Of course Vastra heeded that as well as River would have or just about the vast majority of the head strong companions he'd had over the centuries. Why would it stop now when he really needed it to?
"How can you declare it has no meaning, no implications when you've not yet read it? " Said simply with no reproach though that did not stop him from feeling chastised and frustrated.
He stood abruptly and glared at her "She's an echo. "
"Is she? "
He waved the sheet as he snapped, "This... this is pointless. Whatever it may be it doesn't mean anything here and now! "
Vastra hissed in response. The exchange caused the tension in the room to go up more than a few degrees. Jenny instinctively took a step closer to Vastra while Clara stood up and placed a hand on the Doctors arm. "Doctor? Please..."
He ignored her as he continued to glare at the Silurian woman who returned it with a far calmer air about her. What seemed like minutes to the younger women was in fact only seconds when Vastra tilted her head and sternly asked, "Or is that how you want it to be? You can't out run everything Doctor. You more than anyone knows the truth of this. "
The Doctor's glare turned sharper as he practically growled, "And that is why I cant!" He pulled away from Clara and began to pace. "I ran from her and yet she still died and I still fell in lo.." He shook his head and looked away, unable and unwilling to finish those words. " ... I saved an imprint of her, an echo, a detailed echo of her memories, feelings and thoughts but in the end she River, my River is dead!" The anger that had grown in his voice slipped till all they could hear was the anguish threatening to take over.
"An echo you went to great lengths to keep alive." He couldn't deny it. He spent countless years modifying an older model of his screwdriver just to save her in the only way he could.
When he didn't reply Vastra added, "I think you owe it to yourself and to her to ..."
He shook his head, a sense of defeat filling him, "I can't. "
"I did not mean the library."
At his confused expression Vastra continued, " A conference. Dream conference?"
He stared blandly at her some what baffled by the suggestion. "Dream conference? How? She's not asleep Vastra."
Jenny placed a hand on Vastra's shoulder, "Doctor, we have conferenced with her before. Well since the... library I mean."
The Doctor didn't need to say anything for it to be clear on the questions rolling through his head.
"Some time ago we had conferenced in order to deal with an unexpected matter." Vastra waved a hand at his unspoken question on why, "it doesn't matter, she appeared and was more than able to help. And no, I do not know how. When I did ask, her reply was to say that if she was ever needed I would only need to conference and desire her company. Since than we have inquired of her help only once. "
He frowned, "Are you certain it wasn't her from earlier point in her time stream."
"Yes. She seemed to have made a point of making sure we knew which her was with us. "
The Doctor gave a slight nod. He knew why River had made that clear. Her way of passing on the message that she hoped he'd give in and see her. Something he wasn't capable of doing.
Coward.
Clara, who had stood quietly by trying to keep up, was the one to ask the question the other two women had wondered about. "If River is.. an echo, how is she able to do this dream conference? Cause I am assuming that it requires one to be asleep and dreaming, and I get I really have no idea what I am talking about but I didn't get the impression that she should be .. able to."
Looking from Clara to Vastra and then to Jenny, the Doctor sighed before nodding at the TARDIS. "I imagine she plays a part in it. Being a child of the TARDIS has certain privileges."
Vastra nodded in understanding, "Ah. " While it made sense to her, the Doctors answer only made to confuse Clara more.
"I'm sorry. I don't follow." She glanced between the Doctor, who looked distracted, and the other two women.
"River was conceived while the TARDIS was in the time vortex. It made her more than human."Vastra explained, "She was as close to a Time Lord as any human could be, and from what I understand it gave her a special relationship with the TARDIS. I imagine that the ship herself established and likely maintained the connection with the dream conference."
Vastra looked back to the Doctor, leaving Clara to absorb what she had just been told. "We can dream conference Doctor. A way to check on her and clear all of this with her diary up."
"I .. can't" This time there was no anger in his eyes at he turned to look at her just sorrow, " I'm sorry but I can't"
"I do understand Doctor. " She imagined she'd be quite difficult if not dead from revenge if Jenny had died. Love and grief were a dangerous combination. "Jenny and I can conference with her and relay any messages either of you wish to impart."
The Doctor stared at the floor as she finished. Vastra had a sense that he was fighting an inner battle, she hoped he could be brave enough in his pain to let them do this.
To her dismay and startlement of all he suddenly turned and went into the TARDIS without word. Clara sat there shocked for a moment before getting up and going after him, disappearing into the TARDIS.
"Are we to conference? " Jenny asked confused.
Vastra eyed the TARDIS before giving her wife attention, "No, my dear that wasn't an answer. We wait." She picked up her tea and smiled softly at Jenny who smiled back before she took a seat and picked up her own tea. "I have a feeling we won't be waiting long."
Jenny raised her brows in question. Vastra nodded to the police box slightly opened doors, "Clara, my dear. He has Clara and that may make all the difference."
It was a great hope that her words were true. That the young woman with the same name and likeness of her Victorian counterpart would be able to get through to the weary old Time Lord.
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