A/N: As promised, two chapters in one day! Chapter 11 is close to being done, so it should be out sometime next week. Enjoy!
Chapter 10 – Ten, Rose, and Clara
Clara can't let go of the fear gripping her heart. She sits next to her Doctor, the edge of her chair as close to the side of his bed as can be, and fiddles with the blanket covering him. It's been hours since the other Doctor told her about the healing coma, hours since the other Doctor and Rose disappeared for a kip, leaving Clara alone with an alien she's rapidly learning she knows nothing about.
She's spent those hours staring at the floppy haired man in front of her, counting each rise and fall of his chest. Her hands shake. She knows now that leaving him, leaving the TARDIS, is the right decision. She can't handle the constant nagging terror that travelling with the Doctor brings.
"Oh, Doctor," she whispers, brushing his hair away from his forehead. She thinks how easy it would be to leave now, to just walk away and avoid any awkward or painful goodbyes. She could disappear from his life like a dream.
She's just about to rise, to walk out of the TARDIS, when a throat clears behind her. The conscious Doctor is leaning in the doorway, arms and ankles crossed, and his hair in disarray. He looks much more relaxed than when she last saw him, and she hopes the sleep did him some good.
"It's no use just sitting there staring at him. Come on, Rose is making supper."
Knowing her chances of slipping out unobserved are slim, Clara sighs and allows the Doctor to lead her to the kitchen. Rose is standing at the stove, stirring a pot of something. She's dressed in jeans with a simple, worn vest top, and her hair is damp at the ends, like she showered.
Clara sits down at the table, watching the Doctor and Rose. She hasn't had much of a chance to observe them outside of a life and death situation. The Doctor moves behind her, a hand low on her hip as he peers over her shoulder at the pot.
"Could use more thyme," he says, pressing a kiss to her neck. Clara averts her eyes for moment, feeling intrusive, before her curiosity gets the better of her.
"Stop it," Rose says, lightly swatting at him.
"Ooh, what about that spice we picked up in New India? Give it a kick!" The Doctor kicks his leg out and does a little whirl around the room. Rose laughs and shakes her head.
"Not a chance! Last time you used that stuff my mouth burned for a week."
"It needs something, Rose," the Doctor whines. "The taste buds of a Time Lord are infinitely complex. I taste things in a way you don't."
"Like the lamp post outside? Oh! How 'bout I throw in some pears?" Rose's eyes gleam with mischief and the Doctor's reaction is instantaneous. He scrambles backwards and grimaces, sticking his tongue in and out of his mouth like a dog that's tasted something bad.
"Ugh! I hate pears!" Rose giggles. The Doctor shakes himself and then smiles at Rose. He sidles closer to her, his fingers tracing along the waistband of her jeans.
"What about that herb from the medicine woman on Mirach?" Rose gasps and the Doctor darts in to kiss her, quickly but so deeply he's bending her backwards.
"That herb got us in a lot of trouble," Rose whispers. "And I don't think we need to subject our guest to that kind of…itch, without any way to scratch it."
Suddenly, the reality of Rose's relationship with the Doctor slams into Clara like a punch to the gut. Her face tingles as the blood drains from it, and her chest tightens until she can barely draw a breath. Clara's heart breaks as she watches them. She didn't think it was possible to hurt more, but seeing the Doctor and Rose together, so firmly entwined in heart and soul, Clara knows her Doctor can't possibly love her. Not when the Doctor's love for Rose is practically screaming from him. Not when her Doctor called Rose love. It all adds up in Clara's head. Rose is the girl that he loved and lost, his one great, true love, and Clara can never compete with that.
"I know, jam! It needs jam!" the Doctor suddenly exclaims, racing to the cabinets. The TARDIS holds the door firmly, unwilling to let him subject them to jam. The Doctor braces his foot on the lower cabinets as he pulls, but to no avail.
"What do you think, Clara?" Rose asks. "Should we add jam to the spaghetti?"
Swallowing down her heartbreak and dismay, Clara feels a laugh bubble up in her throat despite herself. The whole situation is so ridiculous.
"No, I don't think so."
The Doctor gives up and flops into the seat across from her, sulking like a child.
"Fine. We'll just try to enjoy plain, old, boring pasta." Rose dishes up the food and sets a plate in front of Clara, and then in front of the Doctor, kissing him on the head as she does. He grabs her hand as she moves away and presses a kiss to her fingers.
"Thanks." She just smiles and nods. Clara wonders how long they've been travelling together that they know each other so well.
Anxious to get home and put all the heartache behind her, Clara pipes up as Rose and the Doctor tuck in.
"What are we going to do about the other TARDIS then?" she asks.
"Get it back, of course," the Doctor responds, still focused on his boring pasta.
"Yeah, but how?" Clara persists.
"That depends. Where did you leave the old girl?"
"I'm not sure, really. On one of the lower levels in a lab being used as a storage cupboard or something, I think. Not so far down as where we found you though."
The Doctor makes a non-committal noise in the back of his throat and continues to eat, letting his Time Lord brain work the problem.
"We can't just walk through the front door this time," Rose says.
"I could," Clara offers. "You're right, the two of you would be too recognizable, but almost nobody saw me. I could go scout the place, see what we're dealing with."
"No." The words are out of Rose's mouth almost before Clara can finish saying them.
"Why not?" Clara snaps. Rose hesitates for a moment, her eyes ticking back and forth between the Doctor and Clara. She opens her mouth to say something, and then closes it again.
"Because I said so," she finally says.
"Who do you think you are, my mother?" Clara asks, marveling at the audacity of this stranger. "I'm not a child. I'm not your child."
Rose's eyes narrow slightly, like she wants to argue the point.
"I don't care," she says. "You're not going. Look, I'll go. I'll wear a bio-damper to get through the scanner, and if I have to wear a perception filter I can wear that too. I'm…connected to the TARDIS, I'll be able to find her faster."
"It's too risky! It will be easier if I go…"
"Rose is right," the Doctor says, finally piping up. "Clara, you can't go. Someone needs to stay here with…him, and it should be you. You're his current companion. He'll likely be a bit confused when he wakes up, and if he does that when we're here and you're not…it could be a disaster."
"So it's settled," Rose says, but the Doctor shakes his head.
"Someone needs to be able to fly the TARDIS back," he says. Rose gasps.
"No. You're not going. Doctor, they almost killed you! I'll use emergency program one."
"No use," the Doctor says. "He will have changed it by now, and there's no telling where it would take you."
"You could track it with this TARDIS."
"Can't. It's mechanically impossible, one more way to try preventing a paradox. I could track another Time Lord's TARDIS, but not my own."
Rose shakes her head. "You're going to have to teach me to fly her someday, you know."
The Doctor reaches for her hand, threading their fingers together.
"I know. But not today."
"So, what?" Clara jumps in. "You two swan off to get the TARDIS and I just sit here and wait?"
The Doctor looks at her, his eyes twinkling again.
"Yep."
Clara huffs as the Doctor pulls Rose to her feet and sets off to find the perception filters.