It changed night to night, which of them was in her dreams. Yesterday it had been Seven, the day before that it had been Two. Tonight it was Nine.
It seemed to be a regular day, one on Earth, the year was 1967. The sun was bright, the air was cool, and it smelled fresh, like maybe it rained a bit earlier. She couldn't remember if it had, it didn't matter.
She was Tara Oswin, a middle schooler walking home, knapsack slung over her shoulder, knee socks falling down. She had to write a paper for history and was taking the long way through the park, not wanting to reach home and be forced to start working right away.
"There's a kind of hush, all over the world, tonight, all over the world, you can hear the sounds of lovers in love," She sang softly to herself. "if you know what I mean."
She'd nearly walked in to Nine, she'd been so distracted. She remembered wondering why someone from the North would be in the area. He'd snapped at her for being distracted, she'd retorted with something about his ears. They laughed and went their separate ways. It hadn't been much farther than a few meters before she realized Nine was being followed by a man who looked like he was elderly, but moved like a wild cat.
"Hey! Mister! Wait for your friend!" She called. She looked back now as Time Lord Clara and realized how so naive she'd been.
She supposed that's why the elderly man torn her throat out.
She sat up straight in bed, letting out a shriek. She could swear she felt everything happen all over again. She felt something on her shoulder and shrieked again, lashing out. Her wrists were caught and held gently, but firmly in front of her. She was shaking and sweating. She could see the man still, lunging for her...
"He was a Plukelsian bounty hunter."
Her head snapped up and she realized the Doctor was sitting on the edge of the bed, holding her wrists. Upon seeing recognition in her eyes he let go and rested his hands beside him. "Sorry?"
"That man. He was a shapshifter from a planet called Plukel. Their ruler promised his kingdom to the one who could bring him the last of the Time Lords." He said softly, and she noticed he had unshed tears in the corners of his eyes. "You were twelve, you had pigtails and he…" He trailed off, sniffling, running his arm across his nose.
"You knew what I was dreaming?" Clara asked, suddenly very aware at how little she was wearing. She pulled her covers up higher. "You, you came because you heard me?"
He shook his head. "No, well, not with my ears." He shifted, and she realized he must have been working on the Tardis. He had black and gold rounded goggles pushed up on his forehead, rolled up sleeves, and detached braces. "You… you were projecting your thoughts. The Tardis's shields block out things like that, but I stepped outside to grab some fresh air and it just, hit me, like a wave. Is it… is it always like this for you?" He blinked and identical tears ran down both his cheeks. "I'm so sorry."
Clara inhaled deeply. The most powerful man to ever live was sitting at the end of the bed and crying. "It… it still hurts sometimes. It just happened, I'll, I'll be fine… Doctor."
He laughed, a sharp and bitter laugh. "Clara, you just relived getting brutally murdered and you're trying to comfort me?" He was shaken. He remembered looking at that pigtailed school girl when he was Nine and thinking how clever she would have been and how he owed her his life. A little Earth girl, he'd barely believed it.
The Plukelsian's body had yet to be found.
She looked down at her blanket, and began kneading it nervously. He had that tone again, the one he had when he was going to do kill something for hurting someone he cared for. He'd had it when looking through time for baby Melody and he had it when the Angels came for him and Amy. That tone unnerved her more than most of her nightmares and memories. She started to cry. She was so tired of crying, she was so tired. A glance at the clock told her it was two in the morning. "Do you sleep Doctor?"
"I try not to."
"Why?"
He smiled weakly. "Bad dreams." He moved around to the other side of the bed. "You," he swallowed hard. "You're retaining memories like a Time Lord now, but you're not quite thinking like one yet. You'll drive yourself mad." He climbed on to the bed, on top of the covers and moved to kneel beside her. "We're… we're going to do a bit of a crash course." He held his hands out, palms up. "If… if you're willing."
She felt ragged, and scared. Scared that the man would come back for her, but he was long dead. She looked at the Time Lord's hands and then to his face. He was trying to keep composed, but the shadow of tears were still there and he was shaking ever so slightly. She knew at that point looking at him, that she would do it all again if she had to. "All right." She held her hands out to him. Her covers dropped slightly and she noticed for the first time he didn't flail about wildly at the first sign of cleavage. She imagined he could control those impulses when deemed inappropriate.
He pulled her a bit closer and placed her fingers on his temples. "Ok, I'll do most of the work, just close your eyes." He pressed his forehead to hers and she felt him let go of her hands and place his fingers on her cheeks. "Close your eyes, and just trust me."
It looked like a giant hallway, with doors and portraits along the side. The lighting was shoddy. It just kept flickering from pitch black to an odd sort of pink and then white and then black again. The doors and portraits all had the circular Gallifreyan text beneath them. She looked around, there was no ceiling, it just went up and up in to more blackness. It smelt musty, and old, and something about it just felt... sad.
"Bit dreary isn't it?" Clara asked as she hopped down the step she'd ended up on, her barefoot sliding on the shiny black floor. She was still in her orange nightie. "Could do with a cleaning." She tried to joke, but her voice cracked, giving away that her hearts were not really in to it.
"We're not cleaning my head." The Doctor snapped back, in a voice Clara had not heard in a long time. She glanced back to see Doctor One staring at her. "Oh, I've got it wrong, hang on." He shook his head and changed in to the Eleven that she knew. "Haven't had to do this in a long time."
"So this is your head?"
He nodded. "Yes, it's a bit muddled right now." He sighed, wringing his hands.
"How can I see you?"
"This is just what's easiest to process right now."
She walked over to the wall. She noticed their were portraits of his other selves on the wall, one through ten that she knew and the man she'd seen at Trenzalore. His portrait was planted between Eight and Nine. As soon as she went to touch the frame, the portrait disappeared in a puff of black smoke.
"No poking around." He warned.
He took her hand and led her down the hall. She saw odd machines appear on the floor once in a while that she needed to step around to avoid falling. It felt like they walked for miles, until the Doctor finally opened one of the doors on the wall and ushered her inside. The room was black, except for what appeared to be TV screens, or windows floating around the room. He tapped on one of them and it faded away.
"Your mind retains everything. Normally, time, exhaustion, things like that erode your mind and a few connections get missed and you forget something. You forget a name or birthday or face or something. You've suddenly got a new brain with thousands of memories that have happened and will happen and ones that may not happen. You can see things change as they happen. It's one of the psychic abilities most Time Lords have dormant. You've got all these connections now at once and they're all at the forefront of your mind. You need to organize them."
"You mean forget."
"No, honest, I mean organize. I remember every companion who's travelled with me. Most human, most gone. I've seen their lives over and over and I don't forget them, but they're in that corner of my mind, because if they weren't I couldn't go on." He said with a sigh. "Clara, I know you're for some reason willing to go to hell and back to remember everything, but you need to organize it."
"Is this why you seem so scatter brained at times? You're running from door to door looking for the right one?"
"I don't literally do this, it's a visual representation of it… but yes I guess. Your hallways gets pretty big after a life like mine."
"So where do I start? Where do I… how do I build something like this?" She asked.
"George home tomorrow?"
"Yes, he's taking the kids out for the day."
"Well, then we've got lots of time. Let's get started."
