Chapter 4: DOCTOR
"Raggedy man… wake up," said an ever so familiar voice.
"Hold on, Pond… It's not morning yet…" The Doctor retorted.
"Raggedy man…" she repeated.
"Ooh, Pond… Not now… I'm busy… Studying…"
"Raggedy man!" she screamed.
"Wah!" he exclaimed as he jumped off the sofa. "I'm up, Pond! I'm… up…" He looked around to the unfamiliar surroundings suddenly around him, and then he remembered what happened a few moments ago. Or was it a day ago? Anyway, it couldn't have been that long.
"Oh, what a daft old fool I am…" he whispered to himself as he got on his feet. Oddly enough, he seemed a lot weaker rather than strengthened. Maybe an odd side effect of regenerating back to this self, he thought. He went straight to the kitchen then the refrigerator and looked for fish fingers and custard for old times' sake. To his slight dismay, he only found eggs and milk.
Thunder claps just outside. It seems that it was already night time and that it has been raining outside. "Quite a dreary scene for such an amazing day," he thought to himself. He looked himself at the oven reflection and slapped himself back and forth just to make one final assurance that it is really him. "At least that's one cool looking fellow to make the scene brighter." He checked for his sonic screwdriver, but he'd forgotten it in the TARDIS, who was off making herself pretty.
After setting himself down at the sofa with a bowl of milkless cereal, which he got from the cupboard, he couldn't help but notice that Clara's not home. Of course he couldn't be sure that this was Clara's flat, but it's a plausible guess since the only things in the kitchen, other than a couple of cereal boxes and a bottle of wine, are eggs, bread, tea, flour, and milk. That girl never managed to make a proper soufflé, even with the help of the Time Vortex.
He turned on the Television, and nothing but static electricity came on. "Well, that's a bit rubbish, isn't it?" he asked out loud. He checked for his screwdriver out of habit, and grunted because it wasn't there. He could have given this Television a million channels if he'd only remembered it.
Speaking of forgetfulness, he remembered his previous self and how he was always forgetful. When he first came out of him, or rather came before him, he didn't remember how to operate the TARDIS, which he was always been able to. Of course, there was one time that he couldn't even remember who he was after regeneration, but this was the TARDIS. It was a part of him and his whole being. He also forgot Clara's last name, which he felt bad for. Even if it was another face, it was the same person; it was the same him. To not remember Clara – to not remember his Impossible Girl – is one of the few things that he'd label as sacrilege. Another one would be burning up a bow-tie, which he was missing at the moment.
"Then again…" he started. "I suppose that I did have an excuse. I am eighteen hundred years old, for crying out loud…" He let out a quiet chuckle, and returned to the kitchen, bowl at hand. But in all seriousness, he cursed himself for forgetting the woman who saved his life numerous times. Of course there were others, but she was the one that has been around all of his lifetimes.
He even called her the only mystery worth solving.
Suddenly he heard a door squeak coming from the end of the hallway, followed by sounds of weak footsteps and a faint noise of running water.
"Ah, Clara! You've been home, eh?" He spun on his heel to face the woman before him, who was stark naked, dripping with water.
Silence filled the room. It was either he didn't know how to react or she didn't. Or both, but they stood there, staring at each other. The silence was ended when the Doctor dropped his empty bowl to the ground and broke it.
"Ah!" he screamed as he spun violently towards the sink and covered his eyes. "Clara! You're naked! Why are you naked!?" The naked woman didn't respond, but instead, he heard footsteps slowly coming behind him. The Doctor was still panicking, then he recalled the incident when he, himself, presented himself naked in front of her five hundred and two years ago. He grinned instinctively remembering that moment.
"Oh, I see what this is. This is revenge, isn't it? Well, Clara Oswald, that is not…!" He spun towards her enthusiastically, only having to see her crying face. "… going to work…" The Doctor gulped and hesitantly grabbed her on the shoulder. He moved his eyes rapidly, trying to assess what is going on based on her appearance, and he noticed a few changes on her features. There were clear signs of insomnia and possible ample amounts of crying based on the bags under her eyes, which were almost black. Her usually happy, optimistic eyes were filled with sadness – like she's lost something. "Clara, what's wrong?"
"… Doctor…?" she said with a hoarse voice as she slowly raised her hand gently caressed his chin. "… It's really you... You're alive…" She offered a tiny smile of relief.
"Of course I'm alive, Clara," he told her gently. He took her other hand that was on her waist and put it on the empty side of his face. "How can I not be alive, Clara? You've just seen me regenerate, one, two, three days ago." He then cupped her tear-filled cheeks, which was burning. "Oh, my Clara… You're burning up. Let's…" The Doctor stopped as he looked at her naked body once again. Now he was the one getting overheated. "… get you some clothes, eh?"
Clara started sobbing sporadically as she slipped out of his hands and landed on his chest. "It's really, really true… You're finally awake…" She removed her hands from his face and weakly thumped them against his shoulder.
The Doctor didn't understand. Just how long could he have slept? It couldn't have been for more than a week, could it? If he slept for any more than a month, he'd be a vegetable.
"Clara…" he started as he tried to avert his eyes. "Let's discuss this later, eh? It's already…" he looked at the clock. "Eleven o'clock. 'Ey! Eleven!" He laughed at that a bit and noticed that Clara giggled a bit, too. That was good news at least. "Anyway, let's get you some clothes…"
"Clothes… Probably a good idea…" she said weakly, then collapsed immediately right after. Fortunately, the Doctor caught her.
"Clara?" He shook her wet body. Boy, she was really burning up. "Oh! Why are you humans so weak?" he complained and carried her over to what seems to be her bedroom. He set her down on the bed, dried her up, and rummaged through her drawers. He managed to find a matching pair of jammies that consisted of a red button up shirt and some pants.
"Playing dress up with Clara… Never thought of that before." He put on her clothes, totally forgetting about her underwear and put her blankets on her. He then ran into the shower room and immediately filled a bowl with cold water that Clara left running. Finally, he got a rag, dipped it in, twisted it dry, and put it on Clara's burning forehead.
"At least you're not as feverish as you came out of my time-stream…" he told her sleeping body. "Artie and Angie's father had a party as he shot me down with insults of how I didn't care of my 'girlfriend…'"
This isn't the second time that he saw her with a fever. The second time was with Mr. Grumpy number two, and he merely told her to walk it off. He still felt guilty about him doing that to her… He remembered every single argument he had with her, and boy, were they pointless. At least now, this version of him was there, back at her side, where he'd protect her with all of his might.
He found himself nodding off again, and this time, he promised himself that it wouldn't be as long as however long he slept before. Why? Because he was sleeping right next to Clara.
He found himself dreaming of the past; a very distant past long ago. He was dreaming of his last date with Riversong before she died in the biggest library in the universe.
"Hey, Sweetie," said his deceased wife. He expected himself to reply automatically, knowing that this was a dream, but he remained silent for some reason. "Sweetie, this is really me talking to you," she finished.
"Wait… What?" he replied, confused.
"Sweetie, I haven't got much time, but I have one question." She glared at him. "Are you two timing, hm?"
"I, uh…" Not knowing how to respond, he lunged in for her cheeks, giving her a small peck of apology. "Not exactly…" he started. "She's not really my girlfriend… Not at the moment…"
"Not at the moment?!" she gasped.
"I mean, I…!" Before the Doctor could finish what he was saying, River started to laugh.
"I'm just messing with you, sweetie…" She gave a devilish grin. Oh how he missed that grin. "I'm not the type of wife that will put a chain on you after death."
"Right… You're dead…" he remembered. "But… How are you talking to me...? I thought all of your echoes vanished?"
"I always remain where you are, Doctor. I never leave. Not really." Her image was starting to fade away. "Listen Doctor, there's something you need to know."
"Well? Tell me. I'd listen to a message from my dead wife any day." He chuckled, but her face was as serious as ever.
"Doctor, you need to go back to the TARDIS. There is something coming, and not even your 'Impossible Girl' will be able to stop it."
"If you're talking about the dead Sontaran that shot me, you're already too late." He motioned his head from his head, down. "Voila. New – er… Old face. Previous face. Look this is confusing."
"No, Doctor… It's something worse than that – something worse than an army of your worst enemies back at the Pandorica."
The Doctor's eyes widened in terror. What could be that dangerous? What could be coming for him? "River, tell me. What's going to happen?"
Instead of telling him, she gave him her trademark smirk as she said, "Spoilers." She vanished right after, and the dream ended.
"River!" He screamed as his shot open. He immediately raised his head up, getting hit by the blinding sunlight coming from the window. He glanced over the bed and found Clara still sleeping. She was breathing normally, and somehow he feels that that's the most peaceful she's been ever since he regenerated to his current self.
"What caused her to be so sad…?" he wondered to himself as he stood up and renewed the wet rag on her forehead. "At least the fever's gone." He headed out the door, and then to the kitchen. Hoping that he won't burn anything up, he got the pan, some cooking oil, and some eggs out of the refrigerator to fry.
"Frying eggs," he started. "How hard can it be?"
Forty-five minutes after, with almost dozen of eggs lying on the kitchen floor, he got a tray two decent Sunnyside-up eggs with a side of untoasted toast and a cup of warm tea. "Cooking is rubbish," he said under his breath as he exited the kitchen.
With his foot, he managed to gently kick open the door and took a peek inside. He saw Clara standing by the window, looking at the bird in front of her with her hand crossed.
"Hey!" he said as he put the breakfast tray on the bed. "Look who's awake!" He hugged her from behind and kissed the back of her head, which then suddenly was met by her palm. He backed off, rubbing his lip to see if there was bleeding. "Ow! What was that for?"
"Six months."
"Six months of what?"
"Six months! I did my waiting, six months of it! And no signs of a groan, or moan, or snore, or nothing!" She rushed to him, grabbed his collar, pushed him down the bed, and jumped on him. Luckily, she avoided the breakfast he made for her. "Six months, Doctor!" she screamed at his face, tears dropping. "Do you know what that does to a person?! It drives them mad! Especially…!" She broke off and collapsed on his chest. "Especially when they didn't know… whether the person… A special person… was alive on their sofa…" She weakly shook him, and brought her head up to look at him. "Well… Do you, Doctor?"
Those huge, brown, adoring eyes, filled with tears… The Doctor couldn't take that. He immediately sat up, with her still on his chest, and embraced her. "Clara… Oh my, Clara..." He buried his face in her hair as he caressed it. "I'm so, so sorry… I didn't know that I'd sleep for that long… I didn't even know I was capable of it." He kissed the back of her neck, and brought his face in front of hers. "I promise to never sleep while you're awake… I swear. If I do, I give you permission to slap me silly." He smiled
Clara, with tears on her eyes, also managed a tiny smile. "… Don't be ridiculous, Doctor," she said with a sobbing voice and hugged him. "But I'll hold that promise of yours." They both laughed and embraced each other for a good five minutes without saying a word.
"I'm special, eh?" he started.
"Shut up," she laughed, still burying her head to his chest. She sniffled. "Hm… Doctor."
"What?" he replied.
"You need a shower."
"What?"
"You stink!" she said pushing herself off of his chest.
"I never stink? I smell like a baby!"
"Yeah? From what planet? The Slitheen's?"
The Doctor pouted. "Fine… I'll take a shower… As long as you promise to finish your breakfast."
Clara clasped her hands. "You made breakfast for me? Oh, how sweet!"
"Don't get used to it. One time use only," he said as both of them got off the bed.
"Don't be a cheapskate. Now get!" She pointed at the door with a huge smile on her face. He closed the door behind him and heard, "Oh lord… My hair's all over the place."
He couldn't help but laugh as he headed over the shower. It's been centuries since he's heard that forceful attitude of hers. He couldn't help but reminiscence about it as he scrubbed every corner of body, and he made to himself that he'll see this to the end. "To hell with not liking endings… I've ran from them for way too long," he thought.
After he finished his shower, he peered his head out of the shower room, forgetting a towel. He doesn't usually forget things like this, but his previous self still has its influences. "Clara! Have you got a towel or something? I'm naked!"
"Oh come out, Doctor!" she said behind the door. "I've seen you naked before, and you weren't embarrassed in the slightest!"
"But you were!"
"… Touché! Make sure you're in the room. No funny business!" A few moments later, Clara knocked. "Room service!"
"Ah, thank you." He dried himself, then wrapped his waist with it. He looked at himself in the mirror. "Blimey… This is a pretty big chin…" he told himself. He opened the door and headed for the kitchen, finding Clara sitting on the dining table with a bottle of wine in her hands. For a moment, the Doctor didn't know how to react. Then he immediately reached for the bottle right before Clara drank from it.
"Hey!" she complained.
"Wine in the morning? I don't think so." He set the bottle down on the kitchen counter.
"Who are you? My mother?" she aggressively asked.
"Yes. No. Maybe. I could maybe be your mother," he retorted.
"You…!" She stopped herself and sighed. "Sorry… It became sort of a habit after you became… Sleeping beauty over there." She looked at the couch.
"Again, sorry about that," he said as he sat down next to her, then embracing her. "Never gonna happen, again. I promise."
"You've been said that before… You tricked me."
"Have I, now?" He kissed her forehead. "Well this time, Sexy's still away. I'd sense her if she's nearby. Well, not accurately, but I'd feel her at least."
Clara looked confused. "Uh, Doctor… What's Sexy?"
"You know… My TARDIS. The one that you told me to take back all those years ago."
"… Oh right! I forgot that you called it that…"
"Oh, Clara, how can you forget something like that?"
"No… It's just… I don't know…" She blinked a couple of times. "What were we talking about again?" She looked at him with eyes that seem to have legitimately forgotten what they were previously talking about.
"The TARDIS, Clara."
"Oh, right…" She blinked again and cleared her throat. "Well, yeah. No signs of her for the past months." She got off the table and went towards her bedroom. She, then, walked towards him almost immediately and flicked him hard on the forehead.
"Ow!"
"That's for seeing me naked," she said as she smirked deviously.
His face reddened as he remembered the incident. "It's not my fault! You came in like a ghost!"
"Oi! I am not that pale," she said as she walked off towards her room. "No peeking this time, Doctor."
"Wait!" He went after her right before the door shut. " My clothes are still in there."
"No they're not. They're in the washer. It said 'dry-clean preferable,' but that'll do."
"You what?"
"Ciao!" she said as she closed the door near his face. With a grunt, he headed over to the living room and set himself down on the sofa. The static TV that he left running was still on.
"Ah, pure entertainment…" he thought, mocking the TV. Suddenly, he heard the keys being inserted through the front door.
"Clara!" shouted a man as he walked to the living room with grocery bags. "I've brought you medi-" The man looked at him with dumbfounded eyes, as if he's seen a ghost.
"Well isn't this familiar. Except you got clothes on," the Doctor said plainly as he stood up.
"What?!" the man exclaimed.
"… Sorry! Context. Gotta watch out for them. 'Ello! I'm the Doctor," he said as he imitated kisses from both sides of the man's cheek. "And you are?"
"Dave. Dave Oswald. Clara's father," the man said.
"Ah, oh yes! We've met before! Christmas… Two years ago, yes?"
"Why are you naked in front of me?"
"Well… Long story," He raised his index finger, trying to find the words to say. "But your daughter has my clothes in her bedroom."
"What!?" Dave bellowed as he dropped the bags on the floor.
"Uh… I mean that washer!" He hit his face with his palm and raised his hands. "It's not what it sounded like. Not even close. Now listen, Dave-"
"You little, son of a-!" he howled as he raised his fist.
"Dad! Uh…! Good morning!" Clara said as she squeezed herself in between him and her father.
"Clara, what's he doing here?!" he shouted
"Uh, dad. You've seen him on the couch. He's comatose boy, remember?" she questioned.
"Comatose boy?" the Doctor complained. "What kind of name is that?"
"Hush!" She elbowed him, which wasn't very nice. "Remember, dad?"
Dave examined him over his daughter's head, and widened his eyes. "… You're awake."
"Yes I am," he said sheepishly. "No bruises, thank you very much."
"He took care of my fever last night, dad. He didn't do anything. He just showered is all," she said, trying to appease her father's anger, which seemed to be working. A few moments later, they all sat on the couch silently.
"So… Let's start this over…" the Doctor said, breaking the silence. "Hello, Dave. I'm the Doctor. You're daughter has been taking care of me for the past… Six months? Yeah. Sorry about the ruckus." Clara's father only gave him a glare as a response. "Okay, silent greeting works, too."
"So, dad," Clara said. "What brought you here?"
"I was bringing you medicine," he replied as he picked up the bags off the floor. "You haven't been feeling well. You sure you're alright now?"
"Yes, I'm fine dad. Just a bit of a summer fever is all," she said with a smile on her face, and that seemed to be enough for her father to smile.
"Well, just phone me if you need me," he said while standing up. He then glared at the Doctor, which, oddly enough, caused him to feel some kind shiver in his spine. Not much people can do that. "Take care of yourself, mate." He headed towards the front door as Clara followed him closely. Then suddenly he shouted. "What do you mean 'except I got my clothes on'?!"
"Bye dad," Clara said as she shut the door. "Really, Doctor?! You told him that you saw me naked?"
"It was an accident!"
She grunted. "I'll have to explain that later, you know?" She headed for the kitchen and fetched a couple of cups of tea she seemed to have made without him and her father noticing.
He noticed how she was dressed up. She had her normal amount of make up on and her high ponytail, but she was wearing a black leather jacket, shirt, skirt, and leggings. "… Clara, are you a part of a gang now, or something?"
"What?" she looked at herself. "Oh, no! Just… Recently started dark colors is all. Why? Do you not like it?"
"… It's lovely," he managed. "It's a different kind of lovely, but it's lovely."
"… You don't, do you?" she pouted.
"No, that's not it at all! I love it!" he exclaimed.
"Really?"
"Really," he replied. "Now those clothes better be done by now."
"No need." She rushed to her bedroom and grabbed a folded sets of clothes. "Got you a brand new set of clothes. Overcoat, slacks, shoes, shirt…" She raised an eyebrow. "Bow tie."
"… You know you could have given me this before your father showed up." She gave him a devious smirk. "You knew, didn't you! That he was coming!"
"You think I'd let you off with a flick on your forehead? On your dreams, boy," she laughed.
"You little Dalek!" he shouted playfully as he ran to her and picked her up, trying to find her ticklish spots at the same time. He was successful.
"Doctor!" she cried out while laughing. "I'm warning you!"
They continued messing about for another ten minutes. Man, has he missed this. When he was Mr. G-2, the most fun he'd offer her was a joke about a purple giraffe dancing about in the planet Barcelona.
He got dressed in his new outfit, and Clara picked it out well. Two different purple tones with his button up shirt and his bow-tie were definitely cool. Everything went well together, but now he wondered where they why he was dressed up this nicely. Not that he was against it. In fact he was dressed up like this, but Clara picked it for him, which only means that they're going somewhere.
"Clara!" he called out. He suddenly heard sounds of something rolling coming towards the living room. "Clara…?" Right next to her where two huge black traveling bags that can fit almost her whole wardrobe.
"Uh, Clara, if you don't mind me asking…" The Doctor started. "But where exactly are we going?"
"We, Doctor," she came forward and tugged on his bow-tie. "... are going to Vegas."
