The Impossible Girl

Summary: Clara Oswin Oswald knew that she was not an impossible girl. No, she wasn't. She was just a girl in love with a madman in blue box, a girl who had made it her life's mission to protect him. She was just doing what she was born to do.

"From the beginning, she was impossible. The Impossible Girl. I met her in the Dalek Asylum. Never saw her face, and she died. I met her again in Victorian London, and she died. Saved my life both times, by giving her own."

He may not have noticed her as much she would have hoped, but she had always been there. It was her life, what she had been born to do.

She was there from the very start, always either a step ahead or one behind, helping. At times, she was the one that set the wheels in motion. Others, however, she was the one left behind to fix his mess. Either way she never minded, even if she did hope he would notice, all she cared about was his safety. (She was there in Gallifrey, and yes, the original her, when he was just a boy weeping and scared of the dark. She taught him it was okay to be afraid, she gave him hope and a promise to live up to: "Fear doesn't have to make you cruel and afraid - fear can make you kind." It was the promise that became him because the name you chose is a promise..."never cruel or cowardly." It was she who redesigned him. And it was she, or rather a Gallifreyan echo of her, who later led him on his way to the right TARDIS so that he could commence his new adventure as the Universe's Eternally Saviour, as its Sole and Lonely (although, not do sole and lonely for he did have his Impossible Girl to guard him) Guardian.)

And so she protected him. She guided him, like a guiding light through the darkness, always there to help. She even died for him. Again and again and again. But it was worth it. She was sure of that. Yet she kept being forgotten, unseen, unheard... unwanted.

"But now she's back and we're running together, and she's perfect. Perfect in every way for me. Except she can't remember that we ever met. Clara. My Clara. Always brave, always funny, always exactly what I need. Perfect. Too perfect. Get used to not knowing. I thought I never would. I was wrong."

But then, then he regenerated. And she met him. She was noticeable now. Worthy. She was his companion and for the first time, for the first time ever he truly saw. And yet, he didn't. Amelia Pond was the first face that face saw. River Song was his wife. They had both died on him already. And she, she was another girl. Convenient, just there, a momentary replacement for disillusioned hearts and a heart-broken man. A Raggedy Man. A clever man, yet not clever enough.

"Run you clever boy and...

Yet she stayed. It hurt, but she could not let go, not now, not ever. Not when he looked at her those big sad eyes. Not when he called her his Souffle girl. His Clara. And oh, how it ached and how true it was, if only she could say the same thing about him. She would call him hers, of course, but his hearts belonged to someone else. They always had. (If only she knew how much he loved her...)

But she knew, that even so, losing his Impossible Girl would kill him. And even though, Clara Oswin Oswald knew that she was not an impossible girl, she let him have it, that crazy dream of his. Because no, she wasn't. She was just a girl in love who had made it her life's mission to protect him. (She knew it was simply her destiny. She was born to love and save him.)

And she knows, that for a moment, he believed she was so much more. She was not, is not, and will never be anything more than a girl violently in love. She may have protected him, but she is no guardian angel (the idea of her being something so celestial makes her laugh a bitter laugh), no healing balm to his many wounds, scars, and bruises. If anything she is his sentinel, guarding his life and offering her own.

Yet she pretends. (For him, it is always for him.) She pretends she is what he sees in her. All smiles and happiness. All hope and curiosity. A pure heart and an inquisitive soul. Yes, she pretends she is something that is extraordinary when she knows it is not true.

But it has always been like this, it will always be. And that's okay, it truly is. She simply doesn't matter, not ordinary, little her. After all, there is no Doctor without Clara and most certainly no Clara without the Doctor. It has always been so. They are destined to this game, this dance in which she is always chasing after him. Always watching over him, ensuring that he remains triumphant.

Still, she can only hope, whenever she allows herself to do so, that one day he will truly see her. (Other hopes and dreams, like that of being the one he loves have been forgotten and buried six-feet under.) And the thought echoes through her head as she falls because she knows, knows this may be that last time she will save him. She was to do what she was born to do once more... and she has no more lives to give away.

...remember me."

"I know who Clara Oswald is. I know how she came to be in my life, and I know what she will always mean. I found out the day we went to Trenzalore."