A/N: Much quicker, as promised! Hopefully I can be excused for this being incredibly long as chapters go. Thank you to everyone who has been reviewing, feedback and thoughts are always fantastic.
Health and Safety: Chapter 24 – For We Shall Meet Again
She'd remained in the repair shop long into the night, hoping against all logic and reason that she might be able to finish the repairs on the archaic Type 40 TARDIS' navigation system before morning. If she didn't, the Chief Mechanic was set to consign the old girl: she'd be stripped down for the parts. Although she and this particular TARDIS had … difficulties might be putting it nicely, she was determined to save her, somehow. She had never seen a TARDIS with so much life to her, with quite so much bigger on the inside. This TARDIS was also absolutely unafraid to harass her would-be saviour. The old cow had dropped support beams, hidden tools, funneled smoke into the air ducts, turned floor panels into swimming pools… It had been a painful process, but they had come to an uneasy understanding at this point, and she would not let her down. The alarms going off startled her; she had stepped into the tool room to look for some parts, tuning out the world as she worked. Who would want to break into the repair shop? Who would be trying to steal a faulty TARDIS? Who would be so daft? She stepped out of the room, and saw him, the Doctor, with his granddaughter. Yes, that would be who was daft enough alright. He was steering Susan to the door of the TARDIS next to hers when she thought of an idea. It was daft as he was, but it was also a way to save her TARDIS for sure. She stepped out from the shadows, and called to him. "Doctor?" He turned, looking annoyed before he replied. "Yes what is it? What do you want?" She knew what the consequences of this would be, allowing -no- aiding in the theft of such technology... "Sorry, but you're about to make a very big mistake." She told him calmly. He didn't seem to understand, and gave her an appraising look. "Don't steal that one, steal this one. The navigation system's knackered but you'll have much more fun." She told him as she leaned casually against the shell of the Type 40. The Doctor looked her over again, like he now understood something she didn't, but called back his granddaughter. He reached for the door of the Type 40, which opened without hesitation. She knew she had locked it when she left, so the old girl appeared to like this plan then. Take a thief out to see the stars. The Doctor called back a genuine thank you as he disappeared inside. When the tell tale sounds of someone leaving the brake on too long rattled throughout the room, she steeled herself for what would be in store for her when the Chancellery Guard found her. She should have asked to go with the Doctor. She really should have, so much for being clever. But she had saved her TARDIS, and quite possibly the Doctor too.
He would run, and he would remember…
The cracking sound that fills the room as my eyes fly open feels like it rattles my brain, it's so loud. It takes a moment to notice the cold water dripping down my face, but when I do, I jump up in shock, knocking Ria over. She falls in a heap, overturning a small bucket which must have been where the water had come from.
We're still in the TARDIS, but we're not alone. Strewn by the doorway are the Victorian detectives, and an unconscious Émeric. Turning my head, my eyes fall on the Doctor, who is face up on the ground a few feet away from me, body limp and eyes tightly shut.
"How did you do that? How did you wake me up?" I gasp out, trying to rein in my breathing again.
"Not easily. But you weren't overcome by the gas, just whatever it is about being in here. That gas is trapping people in their memories temporarily. I can't wake them up." Ria whimpers in response, struggling to right herself again.
"What's wrong? What happened to you?" I ask her, concern shifting. Whatever she did worked. It wasn't pleasant, but it worked… We can worry about the how later. "Ria, what happened to you?" I ask again.
"You have to wake up the Doctor." She wheezes out as she makes it to her feet again.
"Ria, look at me, hey."
Her eyes are clouding over, and she seems to be in pain. Although I can't say that the others are resting peacefully, they don't really appear to be in any particular discomfort. She must have gone back out into the gas if the Doctor made it back here. Solland had said it would put people to sleep, that it was a mild form of whatever he planned to use on me. This was supposed to be just enough to put people into a 'stasis sleep' for a few hours, which is what looks like has happened to everyone else in the room, and what happened to Daniel too. Ria though… it appears to be having a very different effect on her.
"Clara?" She asks. Her voice quivers like she isn't quite sure whether she is right or not.
"Yeah, it's me, Clara Oswin Oswald." I affirm as I move closer to her, carefully taking her hand. Her pained expression eases slightly as she squeezes back with a faint pressure.
"Stop worrying about me, Clara - I'll be fine. You have to get your Doctor." She tells me a few seconds later.
"I don't know how to help him." I admit.
"The same way he helps you?" She suggests.
"I'm not a Time Lord…"
"No, but if he has been in your head, maybe that means you can go the other way too? He doesn't exactly look like he can fight to keep you out. You need to get him back Clara, so we can end this mad business with the Etulians once and for all."
Honestly, I'm scared. I really don't know if I can actually do this. But I was a Time Lord once, as I have just been reminded. Maybe that will be enough? Or maybe he will help me?
Kneeling beside him, I carefully sweep his hair off of his forehead. He feels too warm; there are beads of sweat on his brow. My fingers settle easily on his temples, almost finding their own way without me guiding them. I try to focus on him, his heartbeats, his skin under my hands, hoping, praying to something or someone that I can do this…
After all I have seen with the Doctor, I'm not really sure what I believe in. I've seen a God that was no more than a vampire, a parasite. I've seen a creature that could end Earth with the click of a button find his mercy and his honour again. I've seen a ghost who haunted a place for centuries turn out to be a poor soul, lost in time. I've seen a woman do unspeakable things in the name of her God; I've seen monsters thought lost return. I've watched Earth at its very end, been inconceivable distances away from where I live, yet always found my back again, even the one time I really shouldn't have. And that has made me realize something. If there is anything I believe in, it's the people around me. My friends, my family, and the people I love…
The room is getting colder I think, yet hotter at the same time. Colder behind me, but a wicked heat is radiating in front of me, which doesn't make any sense. Should I open my eyes? Should I ask Ria? The roar of an explosion makes my decision for me, jolting my eyes open in alarm.
Far ahead of me, there is great ball of fire suspended in open space. The inferno is illuminating the silhouette of a man, standing silently. A smaller explosion bursts out, but he doesn't move a bit, his attention focused unwaveringly in front of him.
Cautiously standing, I take a look around. Behind me is just cold, starless emptiness, nothing. We're standing on a small chunk of rock, a TARDIS close behind us. I don't recognize this man, not straight away at least, which can only mean one thing… This is him, the part of him he won't call the Doctor.
"I'm sorry - I am so sorry - I had to - I had to do this." He reasons in a raspy voice to no one except dead space and fire.
"Doctor?" I ask quietly, placing a hand on his shoulder.
He jerks away from me. His wide eyes thinly conceal his shock for a brief moment, before settling into a stern expression.
"Who are you?" His rough and unfamiliar voice demands.
I had asked him not to call me by my name straight away when he found me because it frightened me. Oops. Excellent work on following my own advice… But worse than that, if he won't call this him 'Doctor' there is a good chance the man himself won't either.
"A friend. We need to go okay? We need to get back." I tell him gently, offering him my hands as another great explosion flies from the ball of fire, so powerful it shakes the small rock we are on, flinging me into him.
His arms wrap around me for a moment before pushing me away.
"You're impossible. You can't be here." He rationalizes.
Oh yes, I am most certainly impossible.
"You shouldn't be here either." I tell him.
"And who are you to tell me this? I did this, it's my fault!" He bellows at me as his face hardens. "I should have let myself burn with them - I was supposed to burn with them. I wasn't meant to survive."
That is Gallifrey burning? This is what he did?
"It was the only way, the only way to end the Time War - the last Time War. My people, we'd gone mad, they were going to do unspeakable things. I had to stop them, for everything else in creation." He tells me hollowly.
With my Doctor, usually it's his eyes that betray his feelings. They offer a glimpse of what his words, or his lack of words, don't tell. With this Doctor though, I feel like I'm looking into stone walls, keeping me firmly out.
"Who am I now? How can I be anything? I'm not who I was, I have no right to that."
He goes silent for a moment, staring ahead at the flames again.
"I was supposed to burn with them." He repeats. "I should have stayed down there."
"If you had wanted to, you would have been down there Doctor." I say to him.
"How do you know?"
"I just do."
"Who are you? I'm not the Doctor! I can't be." He rasps out angrily, stepping farther away from me.
"I think you are. I think you need to remember, not run. Just remember." I say, offering him both my hands. I don't know if I can do this like he did with me, but we are inside his head, so the memories should be here between the two of us right?
His gnarled hands find mine, and he takes a tentative step forward as I step backwards. I lead him, not knowing if I am about to step off the edge of this rock and send us hurtling into the frigid void, or if I will be able to pull him into another memory. But he is already lost and empty, collapsed into a ghost from his past, so it really doesn't matter if we end up falling.
At least we'd be together that way.
When I take the last step off the edge, my foot hits solid ground, the sole of my boot ringing off unyielding stone. We're in the repair shop on Gallifrey, in the room I had just seen myself. He has traded one aged face for another, looking almost at his oldest, despite the fact that it is his youngest self that stands before me.
"Why, but this place was burning." His voice tries to rationalize.
"Not today." I tell him softly, as the Gallifreyan me steps out from her shadow in the corner, calling to the memory of the very first Doctor, telling him not to make a big mistake.
He gasps, pulling me closer, before I take another step backwards, trusting myself more.
This time I watch his face shift, long white hair retreating and darkening into a shorter cut, nose becoming less angular. We're still on Gallifrey, this time in the room that his trial took place in, where his own people condemned him to regeneration and exile. The majesty and splendor before us seems even greater when I think about what we have just seen, and I imagine this place burning, exploding out of existence. The eyes of his second self take in the memory of him on the stand, and he shudders, this time encouraging me to take him away. "Special knowledge of the Earth and its problems indeed…" He mumbles harshly under his breath as we go.
The next thing I know, we're standing in a watery cave, and the soft velvet of his cape brushes my hands as his face morphs again. Sitting against the wall is the memory of his third likeness, resting beside his long-time nemesis, the Master. "I reversed the polarity of the neutron flow." His memory tells the Master, who responds with horror. The him whose hands I am holding chuckles at this sight, squeezing my hands and taking a step with me, almost walking beside me instead of behind me.
The next room we see looks like a lab, or an office. I quickly look up to see him change again, brown curly locks flying away from his head, long scarf extending down almost to the floor. The memory of him is pounding on the TARDIS doors, before he tears off his shoes, rooting around in one, and pulling out a key, which makes his face break into an almost maniacal grin.
"Always a good place to put those." He tells me, dropping my one hand to point at my boot while holding my other hand tightly. He peers over my shoulder, great height letting him see past me with ease, and encourages me to move on once again.
I turn and lead him forward, almost tripping as my foot comes into contact with an uneven stone in the floor of a castle's banquet hall. He reaches out to steady me, and when I look up I'm greeted by a playful smile on his lips as he uses his free hand to fix the hat resting on his blond hair.
"Careful." He tells me warmly.
A few feet away, the memory of him is standing before the head table of the banquet, arguing with the man who looks to be in charge.
"He is said to be the best swordsman in France!" The man exclaims in despair.
"Well, fortunately we are in England. May I?" The memory replies, hand extending to ask for the man's sword.
The Doctor beside me laughs merrily, looking at me happily as I take another few steps, watching him change, and trying not to offend him by averting my eyes at the rainbow coat that blossoms before me. We are back on Gallifrey again. Shouting draws my attention, and I step closer to the Doctor on instinct.
"In all my travelling throughout the universe, I have battled against evil, against power-mad conspirators. I should have stayed here. The oldest civilisation: decadent, degenerate, and rotten to the core. Power-mad conspirators, Daleks, Sontarans, Cybermen - they're still in the nursery compared to us. Ten million years of absolute power. That's what it takes to be really corrupt." His memory finishes angrily.
This time, he takes the lead, seemingly to shield me from seeing more of whatever is happening here. His own people trying him again, and a mysterious, dark man looming in front of him…
The majesty of Gallifrey dims as the whirring of the TARDIS surrounds us, and I can hear the tapping of something off the ground every step we take. I look over to him, to see an umbrella in his other hand, capped with a question mark handle.
His memory self is dashing about, wearing some kind of uniform that looks like it belongs on Napoleon, with the hat to match.
"Maybe I should pick on the previous you's coat a little less." I murmur softly to him.
"That was just warming up." He tells me steadfastly, with a slight grin. The memory emerges wearing several more bizarre combinations of clothing, until finally appearing in the same attire as the Doctor beside me, earning his then current companion's approval. I chuckle, taking the lead again, marching forward.
The metallic light of the TARDIS gives way to a refined living room. The Doctor's grip on my hand shifts, as a finger trails across my knuckles and he leans into me slightly, a grin on his lips. That smile is so charming, with his face framed by longer, curly hair.
The memory of him is before the owner of the house - Grace I think - who is looking at him with incredulity.
"You have two hearts." She tells him like she's realising she's gone mad.
"Humans are always so fascinated by that." He tells me, a hint of wonder in his voice.
"We are rather curious." I reply.
"It's one of the things I love about you." He says, taking the lead and encouraging me forward. His arms are suddenly around me, and I am surrounded by warm, worn leather.
"Sorry, don't want you getting knocked about." His northern accented voice explains above me.
As he steps back, without letting go of my hand, I find us in the middle of a busy street, people coming and going all around us. The memory of him is just ahead, and he is walking hand in hand as well. Rose Tyler has a happy grip on him, both of them grinning like fools as they walk towards a simple little fish and chips shop.
"She had to pay. Don't really carry money on me." He tells me, watching them go.
"I don't think she minded." I say kindly, letting him watch for a few more moments before giving a slight pressure on his hand.
Seconds later, we are in an alley between two brick buildings, and he is gently swinging our joined hands, beaming at me as his trench coat trails behind him in the breeze.
Martha Jones and Donna Noble are being introduced a few feet ahead of us, and his memory looks momentarily worried they won't get along… before he is suddenly worried they might get along too well.
"He is too skinny for words. You give him a hug, you get a paper cut!" Donna exclaims.
The Doctor's face breaks into the saddest smile I think I have ever seen as he looks at her, before he averts his eyes entirely, not moving away from me but making it so he can't see her. I pull him into a hug, luckily without any paper cuts, and he buries his face in my neck while his arms loop around my waist. His hair on my neck starts to tickle me differently though, in a way that is much more familiar, prompting me to pull back and take a better look at where we are.
Around us, the bricks spin and turn, becoming a faintly lit room, decorated for Christmas which is only hours away. Spread out on the floor, I spy a few toy soldiers cluttered about.
"I keep telling Digby not to leave these out!" I sigh exasperatedly.
"Clara?" The Doctor, my Doctor, asks, voice slipping out like he has found it after years of searching.
"Doctor?" I reply, forgetting the toys and looking only at him.
And it is him, purple coat, bowtie, and that look on his face like I am the most important thing in the world...
He pulls me into him, saying my name over and over again into my hair, clutching me to him like he did at Trenzalore, like he might lose me if his grip isn't strong enough. The memory of him runs by us, holding Francesca's and Digby's hands, the latter of which is leading me along behind the three of them.
I smile, remembering this night, pulling back to look at him before tugging him after us, wanting to watch what happens next. My bustle seems to be determined to slow me down, but I use my free hand to try and lift my skirt up, to ease my run a little bit.
"Clara, no, stop! We can't be here!" He warns.
"Why not?" I ask, turning the hall corner, seeing the stairs just ahead of us now. I'm so determined to catch up; I don't mind my step, catching my toe on the lush carpet. After all the Doctor has gone through, the last thing he needs is to take a tumble, so I let go of his hand as I trip forward, regaining my balance after a few wayward steps.
When I right myself, I am standing on the stairs next to him, both of us staring down my obviously flummoxed employer.
"Who the devil are you? What are you doing in my house?" Captain Latimer demands of the Doctor.
"It's okay." The Doctor quickly asserts, arms flailing for a moment before gesturing at me.
"I am your governess' gentleman friend, and we've just been upstairs… kissing." He explains.
The doorbell ringing recalls my attention to the situation at hand, which devolves as the green lady and her wife show up, the potato who kept calling me 'boy' marches in and Alice screams herself into a faint.
Of all questions that Captain Latimer could have, about the strange creatures in his home, the self making snowmen outside, anything, he would ask for clarification about me having a gentleman friend…
The Doctor dances about for a moment, before bounding into the study. I am about to follow when a strong grip on my arm stops me.
"Clara, please, don't do this." The Doctor begs.
But that doesn't make any sense. I just saw him run into the room - how can he be behind me?
"Clara, Clara Oswald, please, look at me." He croaks.
"How are you out here when you should be in there?" I more tell than ask.
"Clara, listen to me, please: that is just a memory of me, your memory of me, my memory of your echo, probably some combination of the two. None of this is actually happening right now."
"What are you talking about?"
"Clara, I was lost, I was gone. Then you found me, and you saved me again… But now you're lost, and I can't lose you- I won't. Please, just come with me."
"Back where? Doctor, we have to do something about the ice woman and the snowmen!" I press, trying to remind him of the danger around the house.
He steps closer, hand cupping my cheek.
"Clara, please, try to think: think about the house that you live in that isn't home; think about the children you look after; think about your parents; about what happened the day you met me." He begs.
"This house isn't my home, even if Captain Latimer would like it to be. I don't want to marry him, never have. I care greatly for Frannie and Digby, the children I look after. I lost my mum a long time ago, but she and my father loved each other very much. And I just met you, but… it was probably the best day of my life." I tell him, answering all his questions, hoping this will calm him.
"No. No no no no… You two are so alike; you can't even see it can you?" He asks worriedly.
"See what? Doctor, you're scaring me." I say, trying to step away from him.
"Please, Clara, no, don't pull away! I might not be able to find you again." He pleads, following me backwards.
I feel woozy for a moment, before the soft cold of falling snow brings me round again. I am still holding the Doctor's hand, but I am also watching him climb the silver ladder, having just teased him about not keeping my eyes front all of the time.
"How are there two of you?" I ask, suddenly alarmed.
"Clara, no, please!"
"Tell me what's going on!" I shout at him, trying to break his grasp on me.
"I did tell you, Clara. This is a memory of one of your echoes, your impossibly brilliant echoes. She saved me, not just from the Great Intelligence, but from myself. She was amazing, but you are not her, remember? You will never be bargain basement stand in for someone else. Do you remember what I told you when I gave you back your mother's ring, Clara Oswald?"
He hesitates for a moment, waiting for me to answer. His eyes are glistening, as if he is on the verge of tears.
"What did you tell me?" I ask quietly, looking down to my hand, at the ring.
"You, no one else, Clara." He almost whispers. "My Clara." He adds a few seconds later.
His words almost hurt when I hear them. They're true, somehow - I know they are. But at the same time, that can't be right… He's talking about days that haven't been, possibly days that never were. Because he told me that this woman died, and I am her, aren't I?
Quite abruptly, something starts burning against the skin of my foot, making me yelp and leap forward. The Doctor catches me, a barrage of questions as to whether I am okay or not following. Freeing one of my arms, I desperately dig into my shoe, trying to find whatever this is and get it out. My fingers close around a small metal object that cools in my hand. Pulling it up into view, I'm struck by the beauty of it.
The Doctor gasps as his eyes fall on it too. It's a key, so white it makes the snow around us look dull. But it isn't just white. There is a pattern woven into it, of dazzling, interlocking lines.
"It's a TARDIS key." I say, not quite understanding where that knowledge is coming from.
"That is not just any ordinary TARDIS key, Clara." The Doctor responds in awe, larger hand wrapping around mine.
"She… she gave it to me." I tell him.
"I told you: she's like a cat, slow to trust." He teases gently.
"You just said that to defend her! She was never like that to anyone else." I reply, with a slight pout.
"You're right." He beams, though I can't tell if he is agreeing with what I said, or something else…
"I'm a nanny, aren't I? But you said I didn't seem like one."
He hums deeply, pressing my hand that is wrapped around the white key to my chest, just above my heart.
"My Dad has a personal vendetta against the British government; he never trusted them since Mum died. He always insisted it wasn't an accident, that she was killed, and that they were covering it up." I explain to him, not entirely sure why.
"I took several pages on that yes, still looking into it." He tells me with a bemused expression.
"I don't have a middle name, do I?" I ask him.
"You were thoroughly confused when I added one the first time we met, Clara Oswald."
The material that my hand is pressed to feels different than it did a few seconds ago, smoother, made of leather… I can't feel the snow tickling up my dress anymore either, probably because I'm not wearing a dress, but a pair of trousers…
"Doctor?"
His face is close to mine now; I can feel his breath flutter on my face when he makes a hum of recognition to his name. Well, his chosen name. He looks pleasantly confused when I stand up onto my tip toes so I can whisper into his ear, say his name, his real name to him, though I'm not entirely sure what possessed me to do that. It's only the second time that I have, and it still almost feels wrong, like I'm not supposed to. But his contented expression eases that worry away. Before I know it, his fingers cradle the back of my neck and he leans down to kiss me. There is no sign of the bumbling Doctor now, no flailing and no hesitation. Much to my surprise, his teeth graze lightly over my bottom lip and he presses me closer to him. My key-free hand fists around his lapel as my lips part under his insistence.
When he finally pulls back, he looks down at me, grinning for a moment at the flush on my cheeks before he rests his forehead against mine. I can feel both his hearts hammering away against his chest.
"How do you know this isn't just a memory too?" I stutter out, feeling unsure of myself for a moment.
He looks at me like it is the most obvious thing in the world, like he would know the real me anywhere.
"Because I kissed you, Clara, and you blushed."