The lost night

Clara was just talking to one of her students' mother on parents evening when Danny, sitting on the table next to hers cleared his throat very loudly. A look towards the door had shown her the Doctor with a huge bagpack on, gesturing wildly behind the glass. From that moment on her day had been adventurous and she'd nearly been shot by a very angry Skovox Blitzer. But the Doctor had finally managed it in the end. The planet was safe once again.

„So", the Doctor said after they'd carried the now shot down alien into the TARDIS. „Off to one last trip to see the stars?". He smiled at her expectantly. Her first impulse had been saying yes, of course but she stopped herself. It felt different. The joy, the anticipation. It had slightly faded and Clara felt a strong need to see someone who grounded her. Like her father, or Danny, or...

She shook her head. „No, not this time", she smiled. „I mean, I had my last adventure with you today and that's it". The Doctor's brow arched. „You go home", she went on. „And I have a life here, people who make me feel at home". „The king, you mean", the Doctor said, turning towards the console. Her smile grew automatically and she casted her eyes downwards. „He's not a king", she answered. „He works for the government, just like Kate!"

The Doctor mumbled something under his breath, not looking at her. „Sorry?", she asked.

„Why would you go with a king?"

„He's a politician and...I like him".

„Obviously", he turned back to face her. „But what do you know about him, basically?".

„Quite a lot", she said.

„Really? Well, what about his job? His family? Does he own a gun?".

„Doctor, what are you doing?", she smiled, slightly amused.

„You don't know him at all, Clara".

„Oh, but you do?".

„Men like him are all the same. I've seen plenty of them over decades. They use you, they manipulate you, so you feel sorry or even attracted to them.", he hesitated and took a step towards her, his hands in his pockets. Clara crooked her head to one side. He almost looked worried. „And you're basic proof that it still works on people." At that she almost laughed. „Excuse me. He didn't manipulate me in any way." The Doctor snorted and went up the stairs to his books. Clara followed him. „I went to him on my own free will, Doctor", she pressed.

„Yeah, that's what they all think", came the answer. „You think yourselves untoucheable and perfectly safe, that you got it all under control until it's too late. And then all of a sudden you find yourself deep inside the spider's web, trapped, unable to escape and a part of you will tell you that you should have known from the start. That there has always been that feeling when being around that person. That mixture of fear and admiration. You think you know him and then he does something you'd have never expected and it shakes you to the bones." Clara swallowed and her hand rose, seeking for steadiness on the ceiling. She knew what the Doctor was talking about. „And you like it", he went on. „The lingering tension between you and him, so tempting and dangerous that you want it to last forever".

She shook her head free of the memories that came to her at his words and he smiled knowingly. However, she knew that he was worried about her safety. So, she gave him a smile. „I'm gonna be fine", she said and pulled him in for a hug. She felt his body tense up in response and he froze in place immediately. „Why don't you like hugging, Doctor?". She didn't know why she'd asked him. It was just a thought. „Never trust a hug", he answered dryly. „It's just a way to hide your face".

Clara hummed in agreement before she let go of him and walked back down towards the console. She stopped at the doors, looking back at him, knowing that he wouldn't follow her outside. His gaze was locked to the floor when she spoke. „Doctor", he looked up. „Traveling with you made me feel really special", she explained. „Thank you for that. Thank you for making me feel special".

He seemed lost for words for a second before he answered: „Thank you for exactly the same".

She smiled. He smiled. And then she stepped outside and didn't turn around once more when she heard the familiar noice of the TARDIS taking off.

When she came home that evening she couldn't fight the urge to look out the window up to the moon. And for the briefest moment, she'd thought to see a small blue box there. She smiled. „Goodbye, Doctor".

Pushing a mountain of paper work aside, Mycroft sank back in his chair with a sigh. Even though it was Sunday he'd decided to keep his mind busy for at least 8 hours. He'd had to authorize three different international operations, had a meeting with Mallory and other security members and he'd been perfectly focused all the time. While the back of his mind was running wild in theories about the upcoming evening at Clara's. What could she possibly want to tell him? Would there be accusations that he'd used her? Betrayed her? Would she cry this time? Would she give him his umbrella back? Whatever she'd decide to do, Mycroft knew he did deserve it. He had been a fool. A fool to think that she would not change him, not get to him in a certain way. His fingers went to his jacket pocket and pulled out a photograph. It was one of the pictures Magnussen had presented him the other day, referring to the young school teacher as Mycroft's pressure point. As if she was anything but. The photograph was proof enough for his foolishness. Clara's smile was captured in it. A polite, yet honest smile she was giving a waitor in a café. Mycroft considered to tear it apart, burn it, to blow the ashes in the wind. To bury and wipe out his obvious weakness. But it didn't matter. It wasn't about a picture of her. It was about the solid space she occupied inside his mind. She had rooted herself deep into his system and it would take plenty of time to get her out again. Sooner or later he would come to the only logical conclusion that it had been a stupid idea, a dream he'd finally woken up from. How could he even have thought of being good enough for her? It seemed that his bare presence casted a cloud over her light being. And ever since they had met she'd been trying to fight his shadows. But they would always win in the end. Mycroft not only had shadows. He had demons. Dark reminders of his past deeds and the ones which were about to come. And now he would have to protect a criminal, a professional blackmailer, a mastermind himself to keep her safe at least. Protect Magnussen against his little brother. A part of Mycroft knew that he couldn't keep this up forever. Maybe Magnussen would get bored and leave it. A foolish hope for a foolish man, he thought. There was no solution. And he couldn't breathe a whisper of this all to anyone. Least of all her. He leant forward and sipped at his already cold tea. It tasted bitter even though he'd two sugars in it. His pocket watch told him that he'd about 4 hours left before she would expect him to turn up on her doorstep. He took the photograph back inside his jacket pocket and went back to work. His shoulder was still aching from the powerful armtwist Sherlock had given him yesterday. Unwise, brother mine. He had underestimated his brother's recklessness when he was on drugs. He'd always been a rebel but never really physically violent, at least not against Mycroft. That was why the politician had been almost shocked after the younger one had let go off him again. He'd considered to say something more but the detective had obviously been beyond the state of rational conversation then. And the cause for this mess had been Charles Augustus Magnussen. You go against Magnussen, and you'll find yourself going against me. Protect Magnussen, protect Clara. He had a deal with the criminal, and for Clara's safety he would stick to it. Even if that meant to go against his own brother.

Her original plan of preparing Monday's lesson had not worked out. She failed to concentrate. So, instead she'd decided to sit on her couch with a good book but soon found herself nervously tapping her foot and glancing at the clock over and over again. With an annoyed groan she let the book drop into her lap and throw her head back against the pillows. While she kept staring at the ceiling she tried to calm down. To remind herself of what she was going to say and how. This was their final goodbye, they'd agreed and she would have to make sure that all the words, quite chaotic in her head would find their way out of her mouth in the correct order. Actually, Clara knew that conversations didn't work like that but she had a plan and she would at least try to fulfill it. Looking around her living room, she found that it seemed quite messy. She stood, the book forgotten and went to fetch the hoover.

She spent the following hours, dusting her apartement, doing the dishes, grading her books, and sorting some magazines. When she looked at the clock the next time it was ten minutes to nine pm. Finally, well, no, she remembered that she didn't even have lunch today. She took a deep breath when she felt her heart beat speed up at the mere thought of the knock on her door. Mycroft would be punctual which meant that he probably was just calling the car. Shaking her head, she looked around her space again and nodded to herself before she went to her bedroom, sitting down in front of her mirror. She brushed her hair carefully and put some light perfume on, not wanting to appear to obvious when she realised that he would notice nonetheless. He noticed everything. Staring at her reflection she put her cold hands against her cheeks, finding them very warm and slightly blushed. One last time she was running through her text she'd written out in full in her mind. It would all be fine. She would let it out and he would leave and it would all be like it had been at the very beginning. Before Sherlock had faked his death. Before she'd started to visit him on Sunday evenings. Before she had gotten to know him. And before she had started to like him, really like him. Finding her eyes way too large for the rest of her face, she closed them and listened to the strong beat of her heart.

Mycroft had been sitting inside the car for about fifteen minutes before time allowed him to finally step out and walking towards her door. It was ridiculous! There had been no need to be that early, of course not. Clearing his throat which felt curiously thick, he knocked firmly. It took her about 3.4 seconds to open the door. She was wearing lipstick and a marine blue button-down dress, her hair brushed down and she had refreshed her perfume only minutes ago. „Hi", she tried a smile but felt that she would fail, so she turned her back on him and let him inside. - Nervous, anxious, almost distressed.

He closed the door, his eyes never leaving her and when she turned back to face him, she looked sad. „You said goodbye to him", he stated.

„Yes", she answered, trying to seem as convincing as possible. „The Doctor's gone".

„And that is fine with you", he deduced. He wouldn't have gone so far to say that she was glad but somehow she was reliefed. She had made her decision. But why?

„I told you, I won't travel with him again", she said, then she remembered her plan and called up her words. „Listen, I meant what I said. I've got a life here with my job, my family, my friends. About four years ago I started to run with the Doctor and all I ever wanted to do back then was to travel. I wanted to see the world. But then, life happened and I stayed with the Maitland family because I couldn't leave the kids after their mother's death. And then, there was this impossible man with a spaceship, saying that he wanted to show me the universe. Suddenly I could have both, you know? I could stay and run away at the same time. I could travel across the universe, across time. I could see foreign planets at any possible decade. And when he came back this week I was offered the opportunity again, well, somehow". She blinked, reminding herself that he would be safe at Gallifrey by now. „Anyway", she went on. „I realised that the Doctor was a hobby, really. But at some point it felt like running away. Running from my life and my duties." Mycroft listened to her words without a move. He hadn't even got out of his coat. Then, she realised that she hadn't offered him a seat or a drink. All rude she had been. But now, she wasn't sure if she should offer at all. He didn't seem comfortable and it was likely that he didn't want to stay any longer than necessary. Trying to find her point again, she closed her eyes briefly and felt herself blushing. „Um, what I'm trying to tell you is that I undertstand. I understand now. I know you don't want me around anymore and I'll accept it." He gave her a doubtful look and took a step towards her. She let him. „It's okay", she reinforced her words with another nod. „I'm ready now. This is goodbye".

She was serious. He could tell. And yet, even though this was just about saying goodbye, Clara seemed to prepare herself for a punch in the face, or some other physical pain that was about to fall upon her. And it would be him to cause it, again. Mycroft felt sick and somehow afraid to ever have to look in a mirror again. If there was one thing he would remember of this evening it would be the guilt, clinging to his chest, heavy and unforgiving. He nodded and was about to turn towards the door and run when she held him back on his arm. She presented the umbrella, which he had completely forgotten about. It was folded but Mycroft could tell that she had carried it with her almost daily, she'd even polished the wooden handle. He couldn't say why he had left it to her back that night. Maybe as a reminder. A reminder that he had been with her and would be again if she wanted. But that was yesterday. And yesterday was long gone now. „I thought, well...I thought you'd like it back, after all". She smiled in a sad way and handed the umbrella over. „Thank you", he said dryly. When he accepted it from her, their fingers touched just above the handle. Her skin was soft and cool against his and his mind wandered on its own accord. It was then when Mycroft couldn't help himself any longer and let his thumb stroke the back of her hand. One last touch. He kept his gaze locked on their hands while he could feel her eyes on his face.

His touch was soft and so warm against her skin. Looking up at him, she found him quite close but his eyes glued to their hands. She could feel his body heat, smell his cologne and felt herself slowly beginning to turn lightheaded. „And then all of a sudden you find yourself deep inside the spider's web, trapped, unable to escape and a part of you will tell you that you should have known from the start. That there has always been that feeling when being around that person. That mixture of fear and admiration." The Doctor's words echoed inside her head and she realised that he had been right. Clara wondered whether this feeling would last forever or it would fade someday. No matter how often she told herself to be strong, she found herself helpless in front of him again. He still had her. „I should leave", Mycroft whispered and withdrew his hand slowly, his gaze dropped. „Yeah", she breathed and before she knew what she was doing she'd gotten on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek softly. She knew that he was trying his best to keep his armour in place but there was a quiet hitch in his breath, the moment her lips made contact with his skin, long enough for her to notice. When she leant back again, his eyes found hers.