I am so sorry about the wait guys. I've been having some computer troubles but it's all sorted now. ( As in I typed up a chapter and then accidentally deleted it.) But to show you just how sorry I am this is an longer chapter with lots of Whouffle. Enjoy and please drop a review if you have time! :)
As always, I don't own the BBC, Doctor Who, or any of it's affiliated characters. Of course, Aurélien is my creation, but I'm not making any money off him either, sooo..
He woke with a start, hearing the slow, even breathing of another creature nearby, a gentle pressure on his chest. He opened his eyes and stared up at an unfamiliar ceiling. It took him a moment to remember, he was in Clara's room. It stood to reason then that the soft, warm weight nestled against his chest must be Clara. He relaxed and closed his eyes, not wanting to wake her. She let out a small sigh and nestled closer to his chest. He spent a few moments just enjoying the way it felt to be so close to another person. Close enough he could smell her scent, warm and vanilla. It made him want to hold her forever.
He absently opened his eyes and started stroking her hair. He gazed at her face, studying her features. How her delicate nose turned up just a bit at the end. Her lips soft and pink, the same as the blush on her cheeks. His eyes wandered absently, traveling gently down her body, until they settled upon her bare midriff. He could see the first three inches of her scar, just above her hipbone. He traced it lightly with his finger, feeling the raised edge carefully.
She twisted and he resumed petting her hair. How did she get it to be so soft? He watched as she poked her feet out from under the blankets, slowly stretching them into delicate points. She turned her head to look up at The Doctor, a smile slowly spreading across her face.
"You stayed." Her smile grew even wider. "You stayed with me."
"Of course I stayed with you! You asked me to." He said indignantly. "I'd do anything for you Clara." He added the last bit without thinking, his face turning a brilliant shade of crimson.
She looked at him for a moment, her eyes sparkling. She tilted her head up, her face only inches away from his.
"Do you mean that?" She asked.
"Of course I do," He smiled softly at her.
"Good." She lifted one hand up to his face, then suddenly she was kissing him. Her lips pressed against his. Her heart thumped hard in her chest. She could feel his arms flailing wildly, not sure what to do with them. Then he was kissing her back, one arm wrapped tightly around her waist, the other on the back of her head, pulling her closer. She was the one who finally broke the kiss, her need for oxygen making her dizzy.
The Doctor recovered from his shock and looked at Clara. Her face was flushed a delicate pink, her eyes lowered nervously. His mouth hung slightly open and his eyes were wide. He sat there for a moment, then started talking
"Doctor, I'm sorry, I just... I'm sorry." Clara interrupted him and he realized it must have been one of those times when he was talking but no sound came out.
He lifted her chin with his finger, and gently kissed her again. He held her carefully, big hands on the small of her back. Her hands slid up his chest to grip his lapels. His lips pressed against hers urgently. She rolled onto her back, pulling The Doctor on top of her. He broke away from her lips and pressed tiny kisses on her jaw, moving down to her neck. His fingers slid under her shirt, barely brushing her stomach. His thumb grazed her scar. She suddenly went ridged, her eyes wide; she pressed her hands against his chest, suddenly feeling like she couldn't breathe. He rolled off of her. His face dropped, and his eyes shone with guilt.
"Clara, are you alright?" He spoke gently, careful not to touch her except for her hand, which gripped his tightly. Her chest shook, and her breathing was ragged. She sat up and scooted over to The Doctor. He carefully wrapped her in his arms and pulled her close to him. Her breathing gradually slowed until she no longer felt sick.
"Do you want to talk about it?" He inquired carefully. She nodded, almost imperceptibly. "How did you get that scar?"
"What scar?" Her eyes widened, fearful.
"The one on your stomach."
"Oh, how did you know about it?" She looked slightly relived.
"I saw it last night, your shirt rode up." He looked down, avoiding her eyes.
She hesitated for a moment, then cleared her throat. "I was 15, right after my mum died. My first day back at school, a student set a bomb off in the gymnasium. I was standing near the bleachers and when it went off, I got hit. There was some metal piping being stored behind them and one of them flew into my stomach. It came out near my collarbone. Went right under my ribs, punctured my lung and my stomach. By some miracle it didn't kill me, but they couldn't just pull it out so they had to make a lot of smaller incisions to remove it all." She slowly reached for the bottom of her shirt and pulled it up over her head.
She lowered her arms and dropped her eyes shyly. He could see the scar in its entirety, where it started just under her right collarbone, dipped in between her breasts where it was hidden behind her bra, then out where it was visible again all the way down to her left hip bone. He looked closer and saw that the scar was not jagged as he had thought, but it was a dozen smaller scars all grouped into one longer one. He lifted his hand questioningly and she nodded. He carefully traced her scar, his touches feather light as though she were made of glass. His hands trembled as he thought of how badly if must have hurt her. She pulled her shirt back on. They sat silently for a moment, neither knowing what to say.
"Clara, can I ask you something?"
"Course."
"Why did you panic?" His voice was low and careful, as though he were afraid he might break her.
"What do you mean?"
"When I touched your scar just now, you were fine. When you were telling me about it, you were OK. But when I touched it accidentally, you went stiff. Was it something I did?" He held her face gently in his hands.
"Doctor, it wasn't your fault." Her voice trembled a bit. "You didn't do anything wrong." She looked as though she were about say something else him, but changed her mind.
He looked carefully into her eyes. "You would tell me if I did, right? I don't think I could live with myself if I hurt you again."
"Doctor, I told you, it wasn't your fault. I don't want to talk about it. Can you just drop it?"
He gently kissed her forehead. "Consider it forgotten." He smiled at her. "Now what do you want for breakfast?"
"I think I'm in the mood for scones." She grabbed his hand and pulled him to the console room. "Do you fancy a trip to the City of Love, Doctor?"
"As you wish." He said with a bow.
She smiled and he gave her his trademark goofy grin. He ran around the TARDIS console, flipping levers, pushing buttons, and occasionally hitting things with a mallet. The TARDIS landed with a groan and a wheeze, before settling down.
"Well then Clara, here we are!" He poked his head out of the door, getting ready to step out when Clara grabbed his arm.
"Oi, Chin Boy, we can't go out there like this." She gestured to her clothes. "I'm in my pyjamas. Pyjamas that would scandalize those people out there. Point me to the wardrobe."
He gestured vaguely to the left. Clara disappeared down the corridor, the popped her head back around.
"Doctor, what year is it?"
He looked out the door again, sniffed the air. "1920? No! 1927! Oh 1927 is great!" He ran back inside pumping his fists. "Just a few months ago Charles Lindbergh landed the Spirit of St. Louis here. Ever meet Charles? No, I suppose not, lovely man, if a bit eccentric. The first transatlantic telephone was installed about six months back, people in London are calling people in New York it's fantastic! Alfred Hitchcock has just released his first film, the Pleasure Garden, such a good movie though I don't care for the ending. Shame about poor Hugh. And oh, they've got great scones in 1927!" He pulled his head back inside the TARDIS, grabbed Clara's hand and swung her around. "And we can't forget Ben Bernie." He winked before grabbing her hand and twirling her around the console singing.
"Ooh, ain't she sweet. Well, see her walking down the street. Oh I ask you, very confidentially, ain't she sweet?"
Clara giggled as he dipped her, and kissed her soundly on the lips. She squealed as he raised her back up and sent her down the hallway with a gentle push on the small of her back.
She looked back at him and smiled before ducking back down the corridor.
"I'll just be a mo." She called over her shoulder.
He hopped over the railing and lifted one of the panels at the base of the console, still humming to himself. He dug around for a moment before grabbing a clean shirt and fresh jacket. He ran his fingers through his hair and pulled on his shirt. He winced as it brushed over the healing cuts on his arm. He tucked in his shirt and retied his bow tie. He climbed the steps and sat against the console. He would most likely be waiting for a while before Clara was ready.
He didn't understand why it took so long for her to just get dressed. Couldn't she just throw on any old clothes an … He froze mid thought as he heard footsteps on the floor above him. He stood and poked his head over the railing. He was stunned, his mouth fell open. Before him stood Clara, but it was Clara as he'd never seen her before.
She was wearing a dark red "Flapper" dress that made her eyes an even darker brown. Her chocolate curls had disappeared. Her short hair immediately drew his eyes to her red lipstick, making it impossible for him to look away from her lips. He climbed the steps, still trying to close his mouth.
"Clara, you look.."
She bit her lip. "Is it OK Doctor? I thought this is something like what they'd wear. Did I get it wrong?"
"No, Clara, you look... beautiful!" He smiled and clasped her hands. She smiled and gave him a quick, impulsive hug, then straightened his bow tie.
"But you cut your hair!" He was unable to hid his disappointment. He loved her long hair.
"No, I didn't." She laughed and reached under her hair and removed a clip and her hair was tumbling down her shoulders once more
"You should leave it down." He ran his fingers through her hair.
She grabbed his hand and stepped towards the doors, excitement making her eyes sparkle.
"Ready to see the Eiffel Tower, Doctor?" She pulled him out the door. They stepped onto the pavement, and he tripped over the lip of the door.
"Please tell me you aren't breaking out the drunk giraffe for this adventure." She said laughingly.
"Clara, I'll have you know I've been walking upright for nearly 1,200 years and I've managed just fine!" He said, looking indignant.
She nudged his shoulder playfully. "Sure you have Chin Boy. I happen to remember one particular regeneration caused by tripping and hitting your head on the console, but yeah, I'm sure you've got it well in hand."
He laughed at her and stretched his hand out, clasping her small hand in his. She smiled at him, her eyes sparkling as they walked hand in hand down the street. She leaned against his shoulder and hugged his arm, and for that moment he was truly happy. The Seine sparkled alongside the roadside, Eiffel tower rising high in the background.
Balanced carefully above the river was a small cafe, petite wire tables nestled around the building overlooking the water. They chose a table on the second floor near the edge. A low stone wall the only thing between them and a steep drop into the water.
He picked up a menu and waited for the translation to appear. He stared violently at the paper, why was it taking so long? Something must be wrong with the translation matrix. He held up the sonic and scanned for anything that could block the signal.
"Clara, do you speak French?"
"A bit." She perched on the edge of the railing.
"How much is a bit?"
"Bonjour, au revoir , et obtenir vos mains sur mon cul!"
"What?"
"That's 'Hello' 'Goodbye' and "Get your hands off my arse'." She smiled cheekily.
He laughed. "Had to use that last one often?"
"Oh, you'd be surprised." She winked at him.
He handed her the menu and she studied it for a moment.
"Doctor, the bottom half of this menu is in English. That's why it's not translating."
He picked up the menu huffily. "Of course, I knew that. But it should be translating anyway."
She giggled and sat down in one of the chairs. "Have you got any money, Doctor?"
He stared incredulously. "What for?"
"Cafes in Paris have this annoying habit of requiring money in exchange for food." She smiled at him and reached over to straighten his bow tie.
He lept to his feet and headed in the direction of the TARDIS. "I'll be right back. You stay here." He walked away, then looked back at her, making a 'stay' gesture. He scurried away and tripped over his feet twice before settling into a skip/walk that suited him. She put her head on her elbows and started at the Eiffel tower across the river. It was so beautiful up close. She mentally crossed it off her list of places to see. She let her mind go blank, completely absorbed in the beauty of the scene before her,
"Qu'est-ce qu'une si jolie jeune femme fait ici toute seule? Peut-être vous avez besoin d'un compagnon?"
Her head swiveled towards the handsome stranger slipping into the seat next to her. Her grabbed her hand and kissed it. She smiled politely, not understanding what he said. She pulled up everything she remembered from school, admittedly, not much. Why wasn't the TARDIS translating for her? She remembered The Doctor complaining about a matrix malfunction.
"Je espère que vous ne vous opposez pas que je me suis invité à vous rejoindre."
She continued smiling and he must have seen it as agreement, for he settled more comfortably into his chair, a smile lighting up his face.
"Je suis désolé , je ne parle pas beaucoup le français." She smiled regretfully. "Parlez-vous anglais?"
"But who has need of English? You speak wonderful French, ma chère. Your accent is impeccable."
She blushed, realizing the matrix must be functional again. That's probably what was keeping the Doctor, he must have been fiddling with it.
"My name is Aurélien. It is my pleasure to meet you." He smiled again.
"I'm Clara." She went to offer him her hand, but realized he was still holding it. "Aurélien, could I possibly have my hand back?" He released her hand, smiling sheepishly.
"My apologies Clara, I forget myself."
"It's quite alright, I've got a friend who does the same thing. Grabs on and just forgets to let go." She laughed gently.
"This friend of yours is wise. If you find you have someone worth holding on to, you should never let them go."
She smiled. "Funny, that's what he says."
"It's excellent advice." The Doctor smiled amicably and extended his hand. "I'm The Doctor."
He sat, but realized only as he tumbled to the ground there was no chair below him. He jumped off the ground, arms raised in defense.
"Clara, that chair seems to have developed a fault." He said, righting his bow tie.
"Doctor, there's no chair there." She held back a bubble of laughter.
"Well there's the fault then!"
"Doctor, this is Aurélien."She stood, gesturing to the man next to her. She took a step forward but caught her dress on the leg of her chair. She lost her balance and fell backwards over the wall. The Doctor lunged forward just as she tipped over the edge with a small scream. He leaned over the wall, fingers grasping the air where Clara had been just moments ago. He watched helplessly as she dropped into the water below. He had lost her again.
