Chapter 5: Home
Clara padded through to the console room towelling her hair after a luxurious shower. The Doctor prowled the console, wearing his brooding face, the stiff one that she was sorry to see back. She'd thought it had gone the way of the tight curls and awkward hugs.
"You're awake then. How's your back?" she said brightly.
"We should stop."
"What?" she exclaimed, blindsided. Where the hell had that come from? Surely one backrub wasn't enough to send him into a tailspin!
He started to pace with that restless energy that usually meant trouble. "I wonder, sometimes, if we should stop," he explained, and then paused, looked at the ceiling, as if he might find an answer there. Then he threw his hands in the air. "We keep doing this, running, hiding, now falling off cliffs. One day it will end badly." He was red-eyed, his voice cracking. He stopped pacing and looked at her with those stormy eyes. He seemed resolutely clueless about the effect those eyes had on her. "Clara. I can't lose you," he said earnestly.
Clara stepped closer to him. "You realise that makes no sense at all, right? To stop seeing me because you don't want to stop seeing me?"
He just shook his head as if it was all too much to understand.
The central column came gently to rest. "Where are we?" she asked.
"Home."
"My flat? I didn't ask you to bring me home," she said, heat in her voice now to match the panic she felt rising in her chest.
He wouldn't look at her, and fiddled pointlessly with buttons she knew very well did nothing important. "Maybe a bit of time and space will do us good," he said finally. He wandered to the doors and pushed them open.
Clara's hackles rose. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Well, Oh. . ." He looked out of the TARDIS. "Not home," he said, and returned to the console, flicked some switches with an irritable scowl, and set the TARDIS' central column in motion again.
It rose and fell once, then stopped.
He returned to the door and Clara went with him this time. As the doors opened a breath of air so fresh and intoxicatingly sweet it almost made her dizzy filled her lungs. Framed in the doorway a wide expanse of grass swept across the top of a hill, edged by an iridescent blue sky, and a tumbling waterfall in between. The water leapt and danced in a cascade of white, bubbling and roiling into a clear blue pool below.
Clara looked down at the floor. There was a picnic basket at their feet. The Doctor stomped back to the console, muttering something about unreliable transport.
Clara smiled. "The TARDIS seems to think I am home." His ship was daft as a bat sometimes, but right that moment she loved her. She patted the door and whispered, "Thank you dear." She called to the Doctor, "Shame to waste a good picnic."
He huffed and grumbled, spun round and scooped up the basket and strode out onto the grass. "What are you waiting for?" he groused, and set off up the hill.
The time rotor moved slightly, made a peculiar warble, and then stopped. Clara shook her head and patted the side of the TARDIS fondly. "Don't worry," she whispered, not completely sure she wasn't talking to herself. "I'll catch him."
By the time she reached the top of the hill, he'd spread out a blanket. He sat, back to the sun, arms locked behind him with his palms flat on the blanket, looking down at the waterfall. Clara plopped down next to him and they sat in silence for a while.
"It's very beautiful here," she said, as the splashes of water danced in the light. A rainbow arced across from the water to the trees below.
He looked at her intently. "Yes, it is," he said. After a moment, he added, more softly, "I don't know what she's up to, but she's packed us food and wine."
Clara dug through the basket. "Oh. Why did she give us two blankets? Did she think we were going to argue and sit on separate hills?" She held up a pendent on a gold chain. "And what's this?" The was stone set with swirling blues and browns that moved together, parted and re-joined, then moved again. It hummed gently in her hand, sending a tingle through her fingertips. It was mesmerising. "It's beautiful."
"Oh. Don't know what that's doing there," he frowned at the basket. "I picked it up a while ago. I thought you'd like it, but I never got around to giving it to you." He sounded causal. Too casual. By now, she knew when he was bluffing. He took the chain between his fingers; let it swing in the air between them.
She looked at the swirling stone, then back at him. Why had he bought her something like that? "So you think of me," she said slowly. "When we're not together."
"Evidently," he said, a little gruffly. He caught the pendant in his hand and lapsed into silence, suddenly interested in the waterfall and the distant trees.
Part of her wanted to scream. She'd give her right arm, and most of her worldly goods, to know for sure what he was feeling. He was right next to her yet the gulf between them dangerous and deep.
"I think of you," she said, tentatively, feeling her way gently, watching his face for signs. "Sometimes, I get home, and I want to tell you things. About my day." She laughed and lay back down on the blanket. It sounded pretty daft now she said it out loud. She took her turn staring up at the sky, avoiding his gaze. "How dull is that? You'd be bored stiff in ten seconds."
He sighed and seemed resigned somehow. "No, I wouldn't." A chattering flock of red-breasted birds swooped overhead. "Maybe we should find planets like this more often. Watch waterfalls." He nodded to the broiling cascade behind her. The sun caught the spray and painted a myriad of colours in the air.
"Yeah, right! We'd get to the planet of unicorns and rainbows, the unicorns would try to impale us, and the rainbows would be toxic. In fact, have you scanned that waterfall?" she said, trying hard to keep a straight face.
He waved the sonic glasses wildly. "Well, now you mention it . . ."
She rolled over onto her side, and propped herself up on her elbow so she could see his face. She took a deep breath. It was worth a punt, and maybe he'd bite. "Seriously, remember when we were on the Orient Express? I asked you if you came to people's houses for dinner?"
"Hmm."
"Would you?"
"What?"
"Come to my place, for dinner?"
His eyes met hers and then darted away. He fiddled with the necklace, infuriatingly so. She wanted to snatch it from him and bat him around the head.
He really was impossible. Her hopes sank. This was the Doctor, she reminded herself, she was crazy to think he'd do domestic. He wanted someone to pal around with, that was all. She shouldn't hope for more than holding hands. No doubt this was his way of steering them back onto a safer course. That's what they did; talk around things, not about things.
He laughed gently. "We just discussed doing less dangerous things, and now you're threatening to cook for me?"
Clara whacked him, playfully, and swallowed the lump in her throat. Because, she reminded herself, he's not a just a guy. He's ageless and ancient, the last of the Time Lords. Maybe he can't love her the way she wanted, but he'd got her a beautiful gift. He'd never done that before. Maybe that was a close to domestic as he could manage.
The Doctor picked up the necklace. He'd bought it weeks ago, while he'd been wandering alone in an alien market, with thoughts of Clara never far from his mind. He'd imagined the necklace on her, and pictured her smile when she saw it. Then he completely lost his nerve and hidden it away in a drawer.
Fair's fair, though, after today she deserved a little sparkle. He swung it in front of her and raised a questioning eyebrow. She smiled that smile he couldn't figure out, happy and sad all at once. Then she sighed and nodded, turned her back and lifted her hair in an invitation for him to put it on her. He carefully placed the chain around her neck. His hearts started up their hammering again. Her hair smelled of fresh apples and something he couldn't place. Here she was asking him to dinner. That's what friends do of course, eat together. Probably should have done it long before now.
Her skin was bare at her shoulder, and he let his fingers rest lightly on the nape of her neck. Before he could stop himself he'd whispered in her ear. "I'll come. If you want me to."
She turned her head a little. "I'd like that."
He closed his eyes, replayed their conversation in the corridor of the Orient Express the first time she'd asked him. She was on the cusp of leaving him and that hurt like hell. He'd worked so hard to play it cool when she stood in front of him, a glass of champagne in her hand, wearing that dress.
"I remember the Orient Express," his voice was breathy and hoarse, not much more than a whisper, "and you in that dress,"
He paused, and then cleared his throat, realisation dawning on him. "I actually said that out loud, didn't I?"
She twisted so she was fully facing him. "Yes you did. And you're blushing."
She was so close to him now, he could see her pupils dilate, and the flush of red across her cheeks.
He said, "So are you."
She held his gaze, pinned him there almost, with her eyes. He was breathing fast, falling through eternity into her eyes, lost in emotions so powerful he didn't know what to do or say. After what felt like forever, but must have only been seconds, his eyes involuntarily flicked down to her lips. He wanted to kiss her more than he'd wanted anything in a very long time.
He trembled. "Clara—" her name died in his throat.
"What's wrong?" she said gently.
"Just about everything. I almost got you killed—"
"No, you saved me." She took his hand, the hand that had slipped away from him in the darkness hours before. Now she laced her fingers through his.
He was not to be consoled. "What if something went wrong?"
She was so close, his hearts raced. All he could think about was what it would be like to crush her lips, unbutton her shirt, and feel her smooth skin under his fingertips.
"I need you so much, it terrifies me," he said quietly. "There are reasons, lots of them, why I shouldn't."
She nodded. "Life would be so much simpler if you liked the people you're supposed to like." She glanced down at the pendant, took it between fingers of her free hand. "Fall in love with the people you are supposed to fall in love with."
"Exactly," he said tightly. "There's a nice human boy out there somewhere, who'll give you a home, children, one day at a time, in the right order." He watched her, looking for a clue as to how she felt. He tried not to let it show on his face that she held his life in her hands.
She let the pendant fall to her chest, and then reached up to him and touched his face with her fingers. "Here's the thing. I've fallen in love with you." She moved closer, brushed her lips against his in the lightest of kisses.
His hearts raced and he pulled her closer. He was falling, endlessly, into those brown eyes. "This might be a terrible mistake," he murmured, with no conviction at all because the mistake here had been waiting so long.
She held his gaze. "It might be a terrible mistake if we don't. We might regret it for the rest of our lives."
He couldn't argue with that. He didn't want to argue with that, all he wanted was Clara in his arms, and here she was leaning into him, lips pressed to his. Softly at first, then deeper. She flicked her tongue into his mouth, made him groan. After a moment, he pressed back with his own tongue, exploring her mouth, her lips, pulling her closer and burying his fingers in her hair.
They went to hell together once and found it made of steel. If there was a heaven, then this was it. He pulled the fabric of her shirt up and slipped his hands to her waist, and she groaned as his palms touched her bare skin.
He paused; one last doubt flickered through him. "You really want this?" he asked. It was still hard to process that she really wanted him in this grey-haired body.
He touched her hair as it fell loose about her shoulders. She seemed unbearably beautiful to him then. He leaned in to kiss her, and she was everything, everywhere, all around him, crashing in on him. Bringing him home, calling his name like it was a prayer. She wove her fingers in his hair, and told him she loved him, over and over. He never did know if she spoke those words aloud or if he heard her heart and mind, but he knew he'd carry her love with him until the end of time. She was imprinted on his heart and soul that day.
Later, he lay beside her, unmoving for a moment, and she clung to him. He couldn't speak and she lay her head on his chest and he heard the soft sound of her breathing as if it was the pulse of the universe. He pulled the spare blanket over them both.
The waterfall crashed in the distance, and the sky was cloudless and blue. The wind rustled in the trees at the bottom of the hill.
After a while she said, "This should be our place. When we're tired of running, and we want to relax, we should always come here."
He nodded. "I'll build you a cabin," he said, and he could see she tried not to laugh.
"That's…that's very romantic. No one ever offered to build me a cabin before. But you? Seriously. . .?"
"You think I wouldn't?" he exclaimed, mock offended. "I'd cut down each tree. Drag it right up this hill myself. Chop up each trunk and build a cabin, log by log. For you, Clara Oswald."
She gazed into his eyes and nodded, and then put her hand to his face and kissed him gently.
"I think you would, my Doctor." She grasped the pendant between her thumb and forefinger and the blues and browns on the stone swirled together. "I wonder if the TARDIS had this in mind all along. Found the perfect spot for us, on a hill, by a waterfall in the sunlight?"
He had asked his ship to take her home, yet the TARDIS had brought them here. Clara lay her head back on his shoulder and put her palm flat on his chest. "The old girl was right, by the way," she whispered. "I am home."
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