The Warrior, the Hero, and the Doctor

Summary: It was true, he was the Warrior, he was the Hero, but most of all, he was the Doctor, her Doctor.

The Warrior

She recalls quite clearly the first time she saw him. It was when she jumped into his time stream. And no, it is not a memory of echo she sort of, vaguely recalls (the only memories she can admit to accurately recall are those involving her Doctor... and Gallifrey, though he was yet unaware of just how much she recalls being a Time Lady), no, she actually, properly met him, or rather an echo of that version of him (Gah, time travel could really mess with one's head).

She recalls how he looked: tired, weary, old, beaten, and mostly... gruff. She remembers asking about him, about this man she has never met, she remembers her Doctor's rough dismissal of him and becomes aware that "he is the one who broke the promise." Only to promptly faint in exhaustion.

It isn't long, however (well, at least according to her own timeline, not the Doctor's... ugh, time travel) before she (and no, not one of her echoes) meets him again.

The second time Clara Oswald, or rather the first she actually, properly, met the War Doctor (as she had taken to calling him) it was in the midst of yet another adventure in order to stop another plan set by some aliens trying to take over the Earth yet again (really, why was Earth such an interest point? Is it because humans tend to be so unaware of their surroundings as to notice them or are they doing it to spite the Doctor, who actually cares for Earth? And for that matter, why did he care so much for Earth? Then again, if he didn't, he wouldn't have met her, and she wouldn't have saved him all the way from Gallifrey and ugh, the paradoxes... not even her Time Lady memories could deal with the amount this man seemed to encounter or rather create).

And like always, she has to save him (or was it them, or oh, whatever really).

"How did you do that?"

"It wasn't locked."

"Right."

"So they're both you, then, yeah?"

"Yes. You've met them before. Don't you remember?"

"A bit. Nice suit." (And she did, a lot more than he would ever remember her.)

"Thanks." (His tenth incarnation, at least she believed it was the tenth one, unless you counted the War Doctor, of course, answered.)

"Hang on. Three of you in one cell, and none of you thought to try the door? " (Yet another reason why you can't travel alone Doctor, sometimes you over complicate thinks too much.)

"It should have been locked." (He still appeared gruff, yet as she finally gets a good look at him, she can't stop the feeling of hope from brimming inside of her. Because even if he looks physically older and wearier, like the soldier, the warrior, he is, his eyes, they are so incongruously young... so unlike the other Doctor, so unlike her Doctor. She can't help but wish to keep them that way.)

In the end, like always, the save the world (of course, with all of the dramatics usually included). The Zygons are stopped and the human race is safe. All she has to do now is save the Doctor from making possibly the biggest mistake ever.

"The Doctor, my, my Doctor, he's always talking about the day he did it. The day he wiped out the Time Lords to stop the war."

"One would."

"You wouldn't. Because you haven't done it yet. It's still in your future."

"You're very sure of yourself."

"He regrets it. I see it in his eyes every day. He'd do anything to change it."

"Including saving all these people. How many worlds has his regret saved, do you think? Look over there. Humans and Zygons working together in peace. How did you know? "

"Your eyes. You're so much younger."

"Then, all things considered, it's time I grew up. I've seen all I needed. The moment has come."

The suddenly empty chair shocked her, had she really done it, had she finally failed the Doctor. With a grim determination she decides that there is still a chance, if only she can get through his (their) thick head(s).

It was a race, a race to save Gallifrey. She was sincerely surprised how easy it was to convince him (them) to the right thing... probably because he (they) always wished for another way out. However, the actual saving of Gallifrey was in no way easy (to the point that even her Time Lady memories were utterly useless. It was a paradox he created, but really, nothing of this would have happened had the original paradox not being created, right? Ugh, everything concerning the Doctor was oxymorons and paradoxes and convenient pocket universes and gaps in the fabric of the universe and just so many twists and turns in time that his timeline was not even a line anymore and really, no wonder she and River had such a hard time trying to get to him in order). It took all of the Doctors to save Gallifrey and how they did it completely eluded her (just saying it was like the 3-D paintings didn't cut it. Seriously how did all of the Doctors know how to get there and did so?). She was just happy to be able to save her Clever Boy the sorrow.

"And if I grow to be half the man that you are, Clara Oswald, I shall be happy indeed."

"That's right. Aim high."

"I won't remember this, will I?"

The fact that it would take him so long to realize this, however, left a rather bittersweet taste in her mouth. Because he was the true soldier, the true Warrior, the one that had to make the toughest decisions only to be dismissed and forgotten, and to think of those big, sad eyes, it was to much to bare. In the end, she could only hope that the War Doctor was happy indeed.

The Hero

She remembers that one echo of her that met him. It was at a dark time, back when he had lost his hope in the form of Rose Tyler and was travelling around with Donna Noble, the most Important Woman in the Universe. It was the Library, a place where the shadows were filled with dangers and where her effort and sacrifice were not enough. It was were River Song gave her life and aided her in saving him.

As she recalls this now, she cannot help but blame herself for being insufficient, for being the cause of future heartbreak by not being enough, by not saving Melody Pond as she always saved him.

She has always thought of him as the Charmer. He does not possess the bad-boy aura of his Ninth incarnation or the romantic, Regency-gentleman quality of his Eighth one and he definitely does not have the cute, energetic puppy, five-year-old stuck in a man's body hidding true sorrow and darkness of the Eleventh one (and she prefers it that way, she would not want anyone to look or act like her Chin Boy, in her opinion no one has the right to do so.)

But he is the Charmer, the one with the multiple female companions, the one that loved sweet Rose Tyler, that was loved by her (and ingenious Martha Jones) so deeply and who had the amazing Donna Noble for a best friend. He is the ridiculous man with the hair that sticks up and the pin suit with a trench coat and sand-shoes and he is the man that regrets.

He is the man that pretended to be young for the woman he loved, the man that was born out of sacrifice and love for said woman. He is identified by her and he lost her. So... he regrets.

Clara can see it in those eyes of his, so different yet so similar to the ones she knows best, both equally sad and torn (she still prefers the sad, green eyes of her personal man-child). They make her heart ache at the sight of them. He was the man born out of hope for a better future, the man born to be the hero of Rose Tyler's story (not that she needed one) but as it always goes and the great Fitzgerald once pronounced:

"Show me a hero and I will write you a tragedy." And what a tragedy his was. It was one that span centuries and would continue to grow endlessly and not even she with all of her echoes could change that.

It did not stop her from trying, however, and it probably never would. In fact, she would see him change, regenerate. She would meet another him, travel with another incarnation. This one, much like the Eleventh, would deny it. Say he wasn't, isn't, and would never be a hero.

"Well. Well, once the story started, she could hardly stop herself. You are her hero, I think."

"I'm not a hero."

"Well, neither am I. But if we both keep pretending to be. Ha-ha! Perhaps others will be heroes in our name. Perhaps we will both be stories. And may those stories never end."

But to her, it was like good old Robin Hood would pronounce. He was a hero and even if she, like Rose and all the other companions didn't need one (after all, weren't they all heroes in their own device), he was her hero. And she was certain the his Tenth incarnation would have loved to be called thus.

The Doctor

Of all of the versions of the Doctor she (or an echo of her) has met, this one is her personal favourite. The reason is simple: he noticed. He is the first one to truly notice, to truly care about her. And even if he is the man who forgets, he does a pretty darn good job remembering her. (To her it doesn't even matter that she must constantly ask him to do so: "Run you clever boy and remember...")

He is her Clever Boy, her Chin Boy (or just Chin). He is goofy and silly and gangly and awkward and far-too-many-smiles. He is sad and broken and dark... oh yes, "he's brilliant, and he's funny, and mad, and best of all, he really needs you (to save him from other, from himself). The trick is, don't fall in love. I do that trick quite a lot, sometimes twice a day." (Not that her trick ever worked.)

Because, by God, she loves him. That ridiculous man with his sad, green eyes and his fluffy quiff and his too-big-chin-that-just-might-poke your-eye-out and his silly grin with his even sillier bow ties and fez. That man that she risked everything for, that she knows everything off. The man she lived for, died for. The one she guided to his next adventure with the right Tardis. The one she will (that she gave) hope and a promise to: "You're always going to be afraid, even if you learn to hide it. Fear is like… a companion. Fear can bring you home… Fear makes companions of us all."

But even if she has met all of them (or at least her echoes have) and even if she knows all of him, secrets included (like his name and "the one who broke the promise"), she did it all for this particular one. This man that noticed her, that saw her. The one that forgets, yet did not forget. The one that cares and loves and regrets and is charming and sad and "perfect in every way" for her. It is for him, for the one and true Doctor, her Doctor. And she must save him again, stop him from hurting himself even further.

"These are the people you're going to burn?" She asks, sobbing at the sight of the suffering Gallifreyan, the ones that were her brothers and sisters so long ago. Just remembering her home in Gallifrey and the sight of it's people burning is too much to bear. Add his pain at what is to happen and it is unbearable.

"There isn't anything we can do." The spaceman with his gravity-defying-hair states.

"He's right. There isn't another way. There never was. Either I destroy my own people or let the universe burn." Her Doctor, little Amelia's Raggedy Man, says and she cannot help how her heart brakes at the thought of him giving up, giving in.

She pleads with him (them). "Look at you. The three of you. The warrior, the hero, and you. "

"And what am I?" He dares ask.

"Have you really forgotten?" Clara asks, sadly.

"Yes. Maybe, yes." He cannot help himself, what is he? Who is he to the brilliant Clara Oswald?

"We've got enough warriors. Any old idiot can be a hero." She answers, smiling at the other two slightly because even though she may believe so, they are still the Doctor.

"Then what do I do?" He pleads now, hope slowly risen in his big, sad eyes.

"What you've always done. Be a doctor. You told me the name you chose was a promise. What was the promise?" How could he not remember the promise she gave him so long ago, the promise that she has yet to give him.

"Never cruel or cowardly." The pin-stripped one begins.

"Never give up, never give in." The old and yet so young warrior finishes.

"You're not actually suggesting that we change our own personal history?" Ten asks, astounded.

"We change history all the time. I'm suggesting far worse." And like always, this impossible man those the impossible and saves the day once more. (All thanks to his Impossible Girl, his brave heart Clara.)

In the end, she can't help but believe that all of her sacrifice and hard work and effort, all the pain and the misery is worth it. For him, for the Universe's Saviour. For the young-yet-oh-so-old-madman in a blue box.

"Everything ends..."

"...Except you."

Yes, everything except him, except the Doctor could and would end, she knew that, she would make sure of that. It is all worth it for the one and only Doctor. For the one story that will always stick with you, the one story that will never end…

"I'll be a story in your head, but that's okay, because we're all stories in the end. Just make it a good one, eh? Because it was, you know. It was the best. A daft old man who stole a magic box and ran away...

...History is a burden, stories make us fly!"