Chapter 5
"But why would the Time Lords just…TARDIS-nap us like that?" Clara wondered aloud.
"Well," The Doctor replied, drawing the word out, "The last time we met, we didn't leave on what I'd exactly call amicable terms. Still, this is a bit abrupt, even for them."
"What do you mean, not exactly amicable?" Clara inquired archly. She crossed her arms and smirked affectionately.
"Oh," The Doctor said, trying and failing to wrest back control of the TARDIS by pressing buttons and pulling levers that were wholly unresponsive. "I sort of deposed their really annoying, tyrannical leader and then left them to fend for themselves in the aftermath."
"Ah," Clara rolled her eyes. "Only that."
When they landed, the Doctor and Clara stepped out of the TARDIS and onto the hot, sandy climate of Gallifrey. Clara squinted in the glaring sunlight as a crowd of fancily dressed, severe-faced Time Lords came striding up to meet them.
"Hello, it's the Time Lord High Council!" the Doctor shouted, raising his voice unnecessarily as one does when addressing a confused, small child. "To what do we owe the pleasure of being unceremoniously seized and deposited on this sand heap?"
"Doctor," Clara muttered, elbowing him in the chest.
"Sorry, I haven't got the flashcards, and this lot are just as rude as me anyway," he replied smoothly. "They just cover it up with pomp and circumstance, that's all."
"Doctor. Clara Oswald," A stern woman who bore the appearance of being in her fifties but could have been many hundred years older stepped to the front of the group, clearly indicating that she was the new High Chancellor. "You will accompany us back to the citadel, where we will discuss your recent illegal and dangerous activities."
"Delightful!" the Doctor replied crisply. He took Clara's hand in his as they followed the other Time Lords back to the domed citadel, where they entered the Council chambers. The ornately-decorated gold and black room was imposing, like the complicated and uncomfortable-looking attire of the Council members…not to mention their sour faces.
"So, Ramilda," the Doctor greeted the High Chancellor when they were all seated around a massive, shining ebony table. "Congratulations on the promotion. I guess your thank you card to me must have gotten lost in the post."
"Humor will do nothing to diffuse the very serious and highly vital matters we are here to discuss," Ramilda replied grimly.
"Some things never change," the Doctor acknowledged, still very amused, to Clara.
"You're not taking this very seriously," Clara whispered.
"No, I'm not," he whispered back, prompting her to smile. She couldn't help it. The Doctor was in one of her favorite moods.
"Doctor," one of the other Council members inquired, looking utterly scandalized. "Have you taken this human as your mate?" His beady eyes were fixed on the Doctor and Clara's intertwined fingers on the table-top.
"Indeed, I have!" the Doctor replied happily. "Clara and I have decided to stop pretending we aren't in love with each other. Isn't that marvelous?"
"That absurd and ill-advised decision is but the latest in a considerable number of problematic deeds you've perpetrated of late," Ramilda observed. "The Council has been made aware of your careless lack of respect for our most basic rules of Time Travel. Granting the human Ashildr immortality. Allowing this human, Clara Oswald, to elude her own very real death. Perilous impossibilities, Doctor. You also recently meddled with a fixed point in time on Ruille."
"Without causing any damage to the fabric of reality, which is quite impressive," the Doctor put in smugly.
"Still, the undertaking carried an innate danger which you should have heeded," Ramilda said firmly. "Worst of all, you have not only stolen this dead human from her permanent repose, but you have also elected to continue your extremely destructive relationship with her. One that has led to your being called by us, The Hybrid. Bringers of doom and—"
"Uh, could the dead human get a word in?" Clara asked.
Ramilda sighed irritably and nodded, impatient to continue her tirade.
"The Doctor did not steal me," Clara proceeded to explain. "I am not a parcel of goods. I'm a person. I'm his partner."
"Partner?" The other Time Lord, who had voiced his disdain for the Doctor and Clara's romance, pursed his lips in revulsion. "Could any term be better suited to describe the horrors that will undoubtedly be wrought should The Hybrid be allowed to continue traveling together?"
Clara scowled at the man's ignorant accusations. The Doctor stood, stroking his chin for a moment in thought.
"So, you brought us here to try and split us up," he finally said.
"Of course," Ramilda confirmed. "To do otherwise would be irresponsible, given recent events."
"We'll have to agree to disagree on that one, Mildy," the Doctor quipped tartly. "I've got a counter-offer for you, though."
"Is she going to like it?" Clara asked, leaning back in her chair only to find it was too rigid to allow for a more comfortable position.
"Definitely not," he smiled. "You are not only going to allow Clara and I to continue traveling together, but you're also going to help us with this whole death predicament she's plagued with. I demand that you enact the ceremony of soul restoration!"
"You truly are mad," Ramilda accused, standing and crossing the room to stare the Doctor down face to face. "Why would we ever assist you with such a completely immoral procedure?"
"Is it immoral to give this woman her life back after she sacrificed it by taking on the criminal debt of another? I think such selfless bravery speaks for itself and more than earns her a second chance at life." The Doctor flipped his jacket away from his pockets, slipping his hands into them as he added with emphatic seriousness, "Moreover, if you refuse to help us with the ceremony, I will avenge myself upon you. And that, I promise, you will not enjoy."
"What revenge? How outrageous!" Ramilda snapped, irate.
"Yes, now you're getting it!" the Doctor retorted. "But here it is, Mildy. You either do this for me, or I swear to you, I will do the one thing that really would spell doom, far more than some insulting superstition of yours about a supposed 'Hybrid.'"
"And what is that?" Ramilda asked, perching her hands on her hips in disbelief.
"I. Will. Stop. Doctoring." The Doctor narrowed his eyes and Ramilda's hands fell by her sides as soon as he spoke the words. Finally, he'd made her speechless. "I will not travel in time and space anymore, and I certainly won't be out there saving the day for those in danger. How much damage will be done to the universe and the predetermined timeline if that happens, ay?"
Ramilda's cape flowed out around her as she spun and returned to the head of the table. "Arpaglian," she called to a servant standing in the background. The man stepped forward immediately.
"Take the Doctor and Clara to their lodging. The Council will remain to discuss the proposal he has set forth, and will let them know their determination as soon as it is reached."
"You do that," The Doctor said curtly as they were led away. Once they were safely put up in a lavish guest room, Clara looked around in surprise.
"I've got to say, I was expecting something more in the way of a jail cell," Clara admitted.
"Nooo," the Doctor assured her. "I've been trying to tell you. The Time Lords are all talk. You basically just have to put ideas in their heads until they do what you want them to. Dig through the bluster and that's all that lies beneath."
She sank into the bed, stretching out, and he lay down beside her, propping his chin up on his hands as he regarded her with utter contentment.
"Doctor, what is this…'soul restoration' you were on about back there?" Clara asked.
"Oh, quite simply, they are going to help us to bring you back to life. All the way back. We'll give you a little bit of Time Lord essence to help make it happen. As an added bonus, it will extend your normal human life expectancy quite a bit. As for Ramilda's indignant shock, not that it takes much to get that reaction from her, but the ceremony has only rarely been completed before."
"And where would this 'essence of Time Lord' be derived from?"
"Well, that would come from me," the Doctor said, suddenly withdrawing his gaze as he sat up.
"Right," Clara replied, sitting as well and taking his face in her hands so that he couldn't avoid her investigation. "Why is the ceremony undertaken so infrequently?"
"Well, partly because the Time Lords aren't in the habit of returning life to just any dead person," he told her. "That goes against their whole philosophy. The ceremony was invented for emergency purposes only. But the procedure is also rare because it can be deadly to the Time Lord who provides his energy to make it possible."
She shook her head disapprovingly, but overwhelmed with affection at what he was offering her, she climbed onto his lap and kissed his mouth with every ounce of frustrated adoration that pulsed through her being. "I can't let you do that," she whispered.
"I could say a lot of things," he answered, running a hand through her hair. "Like that I won't give you a choice. I could lose my temper, get desperate, and act like a moron. I've got a history of that. It would be easy to make this all about me, how much I need you. But I'm not gonna do that. This is your decision, Clara. I only ask you to let me make one argument in favor of the ceremony."
"What?" She wondered, tilting her head to one side.
The Doctor kissed her and then lightly pressed his forehead to hers, invading her soul with his ardent gaze.
"Please," he begged her.
Clara shivered, tempted but torn. "What am I supposed to do if I lose you?" she asked. "At least, as we are now, we're together."
"For how long, Clara? You don't breathe. Your heart doesn't beat. You can't eat or sleep. You're quite literally not living and it's on borrowed time. This is our answer."
"The Council has reached its deliberation," Arpaglian's nasal voice rang out as he charged right into their room with no regard for privacy. Distracted by her conundrum, Clara was unfazed.
They followed the servant back to the High Council chambers, where Ramilda announced, "Though it pains me to have to accommodate such a reckless and potentially catastrophic endeavor, your threats leave me little choice, Doctor. We shall assist you with the ceremony. Let us hope most fervently that you yourself survive. As you have proven with the potency of your ultimatum, the loss of you would be even more catastrophic than any other problems you may create."
Instead of sinking into the sort of giddy arrogance he usually thrilled in during moments of triumph over those he deemed pompous, the Doctor nodded silently. They followed Ramilda and the other Council members to a ceremonial temple. There, Clara and the Doctor sat down across from one another on large, golden slabs as the Time Lords surrounded them, creating a circle.
"Wait," the Doctor insisted, raising a hand. "Clara, have you decided?"
She looked at him and then around at the others, knowing that even though she could turn away from this, she would not. "Alright," Clara said, her voice echoing loudly in the elegantly appointed temple. "I'll do it." He breathed a sigh of relief and grinned happily. She would have done almost anything to see that smile.
"But Doctor, if you die, I'll kill you," Clara added, and he nodded.
"That's fair."
The Council members joined hands, and the Doctor placed his hand on Clara's heart. Bright orange lifeforce energy began to emanate from the Time Lords as they closed their eyes and concentrated. Ramilda chanted ancient, florid verses as the whole scene began to go out of focus for Clara. Her vision blurred and she felt herself about to topple forward, relying on the steady strength of the Doctor, who held her arm with his free hand. But then his own body began to shake slightly, and it seemed as if they would both explode into smithereens, so strong was the power flowing all around them and inside of them.
"Doctor," Clara said through gritted teeth, working hard not to panic.
"Hold on," he replied, closing his eyes and enduring what looked like a great amount of pain as part of his essence was transferred to her own being. "Just hold on."
It felt like a massive storm swept through the room then, as wind blew hard and spiraled around them, culminating in a sudden silence that felt somehow as loud as a resounding boom.
Clara opened her eyes and felt an incredibly bizarre sensation in her chest, one she'd never expected to feel again. She took several deep breaths. Beneath the Doctor's shaking fingers, her heart was beating once again. The Time Lords began to silently retreat, but then the Doctor's body went heavy and limp in Clara's arms.
"Wait!" She called to the Council, realizing he'd fainted. "Is he going to be okay?"
"He needs rest," Ramilda said, nodding to indicate that the Doctor would indeed recover. Clara breathed a sigh of relief and enjoyed the feeling more than words could have said. How strange, and how wonderful, to feel a real sigh again after only being able to experience bittersweet echoes of such sensations the whole time she'd been in limbo.
When the Doctor woke hours later, he found Clara lying beside him, intently perusing a thick book. She saw that his eyes were open and smiled, sitting up. "Hello," she greeted him as he returned her smile wearily.
"Hello," the Doctor replied, reaching up to stroke her cheek.
"Did you know that Gallifreyan romance novels are quite the bodice rippers?" Clara asked, waving the book at him. "Used the sonic screwdriver to translate this one into English. Who would have guessed that these repressed schoolmarmy types were so…passionate?"
"Well, obviously not all Gallifreyans are as boring and serious as the High Council," the Doctor winked. "But I'm actually rather grateful to those unbearable snobs at the moment."
"Me too," Clara admitted softly. "So, how do you feel?"
"Fantastic," he lied pathetically, pulling himself up with some effort.
"You're exhausted," she corrected him, planting a kiss on his lips. "It's a good thing you've got me to take care of you."
"I thought I was taking care of you," he teased. "After all, I just brought you back to life." He mimed a zombie-like motion that made her laugh before drawing her into his arms. She laid her face against his chest and sighed.
"That's never going to stop feeling good," Clara observed, referring to both sensations: breathing and touching him. "And did you notice?" She brought his hand back to her heart, where the formally stilled organ had resumed its work. "Seems to be beating rather quickly at the moment, doesn't it?"
"Yes, it does," he agreed. "Why do you think that is?"
"Hmm," Clara smiled. "I think it might have something to do with the fact that I love you."
"I used to dream about hearing you say those words," the Doctor said after a few moments of contemplation, as they melted mutually into their embrace. "I never thought it was possible."
"But you must have known that I did love you," Clara replied.
"There are a lot of kinds of love, Clara," he explained, a tinge of his former loneliness returning in memory to color his expression, the sadness that crept into his tone.
"Hey," Clara said, wanting to banish that sadness instantly, "If you need to be reminded just what kind of love I feel for you, and how much I feel it, I'll be happy to provide that reminder…as soon as you're fully recovered, that is."
"How very scandalous of you, Clara Oswald," the Doctor accused flirtatiously.
"You have no idea," Clara answered merrily, "but you will."
She grinned as he gave into another blush at her insinuations. Then he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small object. "There is something I can share with you now, to show you how I feel," he said, unquestionably shy in his delivery of the words.
He opened his palm to reveal a ring, its gem a bright, glowing blue that dazzled her eyes.
"I bought this for you last year," the Doctor explained. "It's a Brenovian sea sapphire. They have a natural phosphorescence from the quality of the oceans on that world. It's a gem born out of the most beautiful, stunning waters in the universe."
"Doctor," Clara managed, words very nearly failing her. In fact, that was all she could think to say.
"So, naturally, when I saw it, I thought of you." The Doctor looked down at the ring nervously. "But I never thought I'd give it to you. It was sort of a crazy fantasy I kept in the back of my mind. I put it in a drawer and I used to take it out and think about one day asking you…something I thought I could never ask you."
"Asking me what, Doctor?" Clara asked, breathless for the first time since air had come rushing back to her lungs.
The Doctor knelt to face her on the bed, holding the ring up. "Clara Oswald. Will you marry me?"