Ok, so here is the second chapter. There is just one more to go. Hope you enjoy, and please, let me know your thoughts!
"He lost her, and it is all his entire fault. He can't have her back, and it is all his entire fault either. And now he needs to see her one last time."
It had been his entire fault, there was no one else to blame, but him. How could he have been so stupid, so blind to not see it coming? He knew enough about Clara to know that she would do that; she would risk her life to save him, to save them all; his impossible girl, always so brave and so willing to make the impossible choices for him. And now she was gone, lost, trapped, alone, somewhere.
He punched keys and pulled levers, but the TARDIS just refused to obey him, refusing to move, to go after her and kept sounding her alarms louder and louder, lights blinking as fast the spiral of despair that threatened to take over him.
He begged her, put himself on his knees and cried out, but the blasted ship was adamant and kept showing in all her screens why it was impossible to bring Clara back. Finally, blinded by pain, he tried to turn off some of the ship's circuits. But the TARDIS, anticipating his last act of despair, locked her panels, frustrating his plans.
And he punched the console, focusing all his sorrow and anger against the cold and hard metal of his ship, until his hearts were numb and his lungs burned and there weren't more tears left inside of him.
He must've fainted or dozed off, for how long, he couldn't tell. But when he finally opened his eyes, feeling the cold of the metal floor against his back, the dim lights and the silence, so heavy as his shattered hearts, welcomed him.
He stood up and hissed with the sharp pain on his left hand. It was covered in dried blood and by the look of the bruises on it, broken. He should take care of it soon or at least take something for the pain. He closed his eyes for a moment, thinking about how pointless that would be since the biggest pain, the one that burned in his chest, would still remain?
A quick look at the monitors and he knew they were drifting aimlessly in the time vortex. One punch at a button and there it was, all the information and calculations back on the screens.
He closed his eyes, a lump forming on his throat. He always knew that one day she would leave him, they always did, sooner or later, one way or another, so it wouldn't be different with her, it didn't matter how much he loved her. Though part of him had always hoped that it would be later, much, much later, especially after he had been given a second chance last Christmas.
But he should've known that the Universe would never allow him to be happy without asking for something in return, but why like that? Why put him through all the misery of watching someone to be trapped away from him again?
Off everything that could've happened to Clara, of course she had to leave in an impossible way: a infuriating fixed point in time, so very connected to the very tissue that formed the time-space continuous, so deeply entwined with the Universe that changing it was a threat to all the existence.
Oh, Clara.
His Clara and her big brown eyes and dimpled smiles, lost in the past. And he couldn't bring her back without putting the entire Universe in collapse.
His eyes wandered over the monitors, all the calculations giving him the same ridiculous answer. Then something else caught his attention, something that had been there all the time but that in his angered pain he had ignored so far. He approached the monitor to check it again, the familiar numbers flashing a memory in his mind.
That couldn't be right, could it? He punched some keys and the ship made all the calculations again, and again, and again, but the results didn't change.
But that was... impossible. He swallowed hard, ignoring that hard thumping of his hearts. Clara Oswald was trapped in the past. His past. At Gallifrey, before the Time War, before he had become a Time Lord, before...
Those coordinates definitely couldn't be right, because if they were, Clara would've met him, in his first face, still a young man. And he should remember meeting her. But the only Clara he remember was her, his Clara, his beloved first wife and...
For a moment he couldn't breathe, realization washing over him as a flow of memories rushed in to his mind and he couldn't deal with the conflicting emotions in his hearts.
Clara... Oh, Clara.
- 0 – 0 -
He turned around to bump into someone and stepping back he could see her face, the petit brunette in strange clothes, big brown eyes staring into his with curiosity and something else he couldn't quite identify, making him instantly blush.
"I'm sorry," he said, unable to move his eyes away from hers.
"It's ok," she replied, the trembling in her voice telling him the opposite.
She looked pale and somewhat scared making him feel a strange pain in his hearts.
"Are you alright?" He reached out his hand, touching her elbow very lightly.
It took her a moment to answer him, arms bracing herself trying to hide her shivering from him. "I'm just tired. I've been traveling for many days."
He watched her, her strange clothes looked worn out and she had some scratches and little bruises on her face and hands, a tiredness in her eyes that told him that she had been on the road by herself for long. She clearly didn't belong there, to Gallifrey nor any other place he had already been before.
And then she said his name, her voice soft, dark eyes intently fixed on his as if she was trying to read his very soul, and his hearts stopped.
"Do I know you?" He knitted his brows in confusion eliciting a meek smile from her lips.
"Not yet," she whispered as if it was hard for her to speak. And when he kept silence, trying to figure her out, she cleared her throat and added. "An old friend of mine told me about you. He also told me how to find you and said that you would help me."
He took her in for a moment longer, the honesty on her eyes making something shift deep inside him and he nodded.
"Alright, I will help you..."
"Clara," she offered him a smile that he reciprocated.
"Clara who?"
And then, she laughed. A crystal clear sound that instantly brought light to his entire world. And maybe his hearts had skipped a beat or two.
"Just Clara," she said after a moment, her voice soft, eyes never leaving his and he felt the corners of his mouth moving upwards.
"Ok, 'just Clara'," his smile widened, "come with me," he reached out for her hand and caught himself telling her when he felt the warmth of her tiny hand in his, "I will keep you safe."
- 0 – 0 -
He let himself fall at the jump seat, his hearts beating so fast that he thought that he would faint any moment. How hadn't he had ever noticed? How could he be so blind that he hadn't seen what had always been there, crystal clear in front of his eyes?
Clara Oswald, the real Clara, not one of her echoes. She had always been his Clara. The impossible girl who appeared from nowhere into his life, thousands of years ago to become his rock, his cornerstone - his wife.
He closed his eyes, letting the tears roll down his cheeks, all the things finally making sense, all the pieces falling down on its places.
The memory of her smile filled his mind, his hearts aching for her. She was lost for him, for this him. But somewhere on his past, a very alive Clara Oswald was meeting him, still so young, so foolish, so naïve about everything with which the Universe would test him through. And she would love him like she ever did and made him fall in love with her for the first time or all over again.
He missed her. He missed them and all the time they had together. He had never stopped missing her.
"An old friend of mine told me about you..."
His name. She knew his name because an old friend had told her. That had always intrigued him and no matter how much he asked her to tell him about that mysterious friend of hers, she had always dismissed him. Then, suddenly he understood.
He needed to find Clara Oswald. One last time for one proper goodbye. And for putting her on the right path to meet him for the first time. Or all over again.