The next morning -if mornings did exist in the Time Vortex- Clara entered the console room: the TARDIS really had redecorated. There light was a lot more blue and dim, and the lines of the console were gentler. The new Doctor waiting for her took her by surprise. She remembered that he had regenerated, but she wasn't used to it yet. Clara knew she was surely making a face, and he confirmed that as his eyes darkened. He looked hurt, and Clara immediately felt guilty: she hadn't done that on purpose, but anyway she didn't like hurting him.

"Hello," she said.

"Hello," the Doctor replied.

He immediately noticed she hadn't said 'Hello, Doctor' but just 'Hello', and that she hadn't smiled at him or hugged him and kissed his cheek to say 'good morning'. He would never admit it, but it hurt: even though she knew he was the Doctor now and accepted it, it didn't come natural to her. With regeneration -and probably also with lying to her on Trenzalore- he had lost that friendly intimacy that he had gained with her, which he now longed for like never before.

Also, the Doctor didn't need his extraordinary brain to understand Clara had had nightmares: she looked tired and sad and her skin was dark around her eyes, barely hidden by the light make-up she usually wore. After a long moment of awkward silence, he spoke:

"You shouldn't worry about the monsters in your dreams, they're only in your head, you know," he said.

He didn't do feelings, he didn't do emotions. He remembered how his younger self used to take turns with Rory to handle Amy's emotions, and he felt even worst this time. He had a feeling this face was rubbish at this, but he had tried just because he hated to see Clara sad.

"I know, you know," she retorted sharply.

"See? Rubbish," the Doctor thought.

"I felt like I was supposed to say something," he muttered.

That was so unexpected that made Clara giggle.

"It's not working," she said.

"Oh really? Why are you laughing, then?" he asked, smirking.

Finally, Clara actually grinned and stepped closer to him, lightly shaking her head in playful resignation.

"Come on, Old Boy. Show me the stars," Clara demanded, smiling.

The Doctor gave her a wide, slightly manic grin, the one he always showed at some point in each of his faces, and hurried to the console.

As he pulled levers walking around the console, Clara took her time to study him. His moves were lean and elegant, deliberate and plain, so different from the casual, clumsy bouncing about of the younger Doctor. He made her think of some careful predator, like a silver wolf. He looked at the same time more serene and more thoughtful, compared to the sorrowful but energetic nature of his predecessor.

As they landed, he gallantly opened the doors for her.

~oOo~

Clara understood he was doing this for her, trying to take her to some place fun without running for their lives implied, like he had tried with their first adventure at Akhaten. But he was the Doctor and the TARDIS, even when she took him where he wanted, always took him when trouble needed to be solved.

So the Doctor had taken Clara to New Paris -New New New New New Paris, to be precise- and he seemed to succeed in his intent. The streets were lovely in the late afternoon, the red-and-orange sunset of two small twin suns making the atmosphere truly magic with a nice, dim light…but the streets were oddly half-empty, the Gallifreyan and the human almost the only people walking, the few staff members glancing nervously at them through the shop windows. The city looked half-desert and the atmosphere was tense, but nor the Doctor nor Clara had noticed. Or, more truthfully, they had noticed but they hadn't given any importance to it.

The Doctor and his companion walked hand in hand as the Time Lord told the girl everything he knew about that city, planet and solar system. This incarnation was different from most of the others, though: he didn't talk continuously at 100 miles per hour, hardly pausing to breathe. Instead, he had moments when he paused almost suddenly and stayed silent for minutes, as if lost in deep thoughts he didn't want to share, eyes darkened and more wrinkles forming on his forehead. Interrupting one of those moments, Clara almost involuntarily asked:

"How do you feel?"

She didn't know why she had asked, but the Doctor seemed so absorbed in his reflections that he looked like he was trying to find himself and, searching, was only finding more mysteries and doubts.

The Doctor turned to face her, a hesitant half-smirk on his lips that Clara supposed was the equivalent of the little cute smile of his former self.

"You know when you go to… the hairdresser and say 'okay, do what you want' and he styles your hair in a completely different way and you look at the mirror and you don't know if it looks like you? You almost don't recognise yourself just because your appearance changed? I feel like that."

Clara nodded absentmindedly, half of her brain reflecting on what he had said and the other half wondering when she would get used to his new voice and the Scottish accent.

Before they could fall in another moment of awkward silence -which had happened more than once in the last hours- they turned left and found themselves in the most important boulevard, which was a bit more crowded and lead straight to the New Eiffel Tower. Clara suddenly stopped walking at its sight.

The new Tower had gentler lines than the earthly one. It had basically the same shape, but the metallic structure was gone, or at least it wasn't visible, and the Tower looked like the original but seemed covered with modelling clay or something, white and slightly glowing. It was quite a beautiful sight, particularly in that moment when the sky was getting dark. Clara's mouth fell open in amazement, and she could hear the smile in the Doctor's voice as he spoke:

"Each New Paris built its own Eiffel Tower. This one has always been my favourite, it's quite clever. The structure of the Tower is covered with a particular kind of plants that grows in the forests of the third planet of this system, Karan-Tur. It's a kind of musk which possesses a natural phosphorescence. That's why the Tower glows," he explained. "And it smells good as well," he added, chuckling.

The Doctor smiled. He loved showing new things to Clara, and he liked the amazed expression on her face when he did so. A light shiver ran down his spine as he noticed how beautiful she was, the dim light making her skin glow and the lightest breeze playing with her long, dark hair.

"It's beautiful, Doctor," Clara said, "Can we get closer?"

The Tower was less than a kilometre away.

"Of course. That's what I had in mind. There is a lift to the top. We could go have a look," he answered, smirking.

"Sounds like a plan. I thought you weren't one for plans," Clara said, smiling.

"New face, new rules."

The Doctor had just finished the sentence when they heard an explosion: a second later the base of the Tower was on fire.

~oOo~

The Doctor and Clara had a hard time running towards the Tower between the many people running in the opposite direction, and the Time Lord didn't bother looking back to Clara as her hand left his, assuming that she was probably just trying to avoid bumping into someone and certain that she would be right behind him.

As the Doctor got close to the Tower, already able to feel the heat of the flames in the air, he realized just how bad the situation was: a maniple of human-like soldiers wearing grey uniforms and a few policemen were desperately trying both to extinguish the fire and to save the few people who were still on top of the Tower.

A young brown-haired soldier approached the Doctor, carrying his gun with both hands.

"You can't stay here, sir. This place is now under the responsibility of the Per-human Army. Leave now or I will be forced to escort you-"

The Doctor interrupted the soldier, rapidly showing him his psychic paper. The Per-human turned pale and instantly saluted the Doctor.

"I-I beg your pardon, General Smith, I-"

"You can call me 'the Doctor'. Consider it a code name. What's your name, soldier?"

The Time Lord took a quick mental note: he quite liked the salute, this time round.

"Kinds. Sergeant Alan Kinds, sir. May I ask, why would you honour us with your presence, sir?"

"Just passing by. What's happening here?"

Alan looked startled and gave him a questioning look.

"Sir?"

The Doctor wasn't exactly using his best military talk. He knew better than that.

"I demand a detailed report of our current situation."

"The Sontarans attacked, sir" -the Doctor tried to prevent his eyes from widening, succeeding only partially- "we didn't expect them to make a move directly against the city, the last reports attested their position miles away from here. It was quick, just sabotage. The arsenal under the Tower is lost. We haven't killed or caught any of them, they placed the explosives and ran, unseen. The guards are dead, and there are some wounded between civilians…" -he turned to check the others still trying to extinguish the fire- "…but the fire will be sorted soon. We have the situation under control."

"I know it may sound like an odd question, but take it as test: can you tell me how this war began, hmm?" He needed to know exactly when he had landed. He honestly hadn't checked, as always.

The soldier hesitated, a bit doubtful, then started: "Three years ago, the Sontarans declared war, to claim the still uninhabited parts of the planet, which were vast since this is the only big city and only the nearby areas were colonized in the first place. However, we weren't willing to give up the planet because we had got here first, so the war started. The Sontaran spaceships besieged the planet, but our fleet was ready and our sky defences were strong. Sometimes we won, sometimes we lost. But none of the armies got an overwhelming victory. We became worried that the war could last years without a winner, so no wonder that we accepted almost instantly when the Sontarans asked for peace."

The Doctor nearly choked on his breath. The Sontarans, the most belligerent race in the universe, who loved a battle like a child loves Christmas, had asked for peace?

Alan went on: "The treaty was simple, really. Quite fair. Half of the planet to us, half to the Sontarans. They would take half of the planet, the half still uninhabited, instead of a decades-lasting war. We accepted gladly, but it was a trap. It was a simple stratagem to obtain some territories, set their headquarters and attack us from both sky and ground."

The Doctor listened carefully. Sontarans. And Per-humans, one of the many races that had descended from humans. A planet split into two. He had read that story: the Per-humans would win, the Sontarans would have to retreat. At some point in the war, a scientist would invent a new weapon, based on chemicals, and the Per-humans would use it, ignoring all interplanetary rules, to end the war they were going to lose otherwise.

The Gallifreyan frowned. He didn't like the situation he had bumped into. That particular war had been -or was going to be- extremely cruel, violent, almost feral: Sontarans weren't exactly fairplayers and, let's admit it, Per-humans weren't either. The Doctor could also feel something approaching, a fixed point, probably a pitched battle. He had to be quick if he didn't want to become part of the events and be forced to stay until history was decided. No, he wasn't going to put Clara through all that. He had put her through so much already. He turned to face her:

"I made a decision, Clara. We are leaving now-"

Both his hearts skipped a beat when he saw that Clara wasn't behind him.