...so, who else cried in the last episode of Doctor Who? *raises hand frantically* Heaven Sent is officially the best and saddest episode in Doctor Who history. Hands down. Don't even argue. And as any other Whouffaldi shipper, I decided to wander back into my denial land. *gestures* Come, come.

Enjoy!

Hidden Message Three.

"No, no, it's my treat."

"Why are we here again?"

"Because you promised me – you promised me we'd go to an open-space market for once! An actual open market! In space! With the stars everywhere and everything!" Clara grinned, poking the Doctor in the ribs. He winced, rubbing at the spot and giving Clara a rueful look. She only smiled again, saying, "Not to mention that I've wanted to see what I've been missing. I like shopping."

"This isn't exactly your average souvenir shop, Clara," the Doctor replied with a shake of his head.

"Well, I know that," Clara rolled her eyes, "but just look!" She left the Doctor's side, grabbing a little snow-globe from one of the booths. Holding it up before the Doctor, she said happily, "Look! Snow-globe! From space! Space snow-globe! Not too many people can say that, can they?"

"You'd be surprised."

"From my time," Clara replied pointedly. She placed the snow-globe back down on the booth. Wrapping a hand around the Doctor's arm again, she added, "Besides, there's got to be some things that at least you particularly want to see. Or would like to see. Or even want to buy."

The Doctor looked down at Clara, his grey eyebrows furrowed together. "I'm not too sure of that."

Clara snorted. "You've got a hoarding problem, Doctor," she pointed out. "Literally. Everything. In. Your. TARDIS. Is. Something that's been horded!" She clapped another hand over the Doctor's arm. "Don't you remember? Just yesterday, I found that big room with all of the…stuff. And things. Some things that I don't think even you know it's true purpose is for."

"Then why are we here?"

"Because you promised!" Clara said gleefully. She skipped away from the Doctor's side, narrowly evading a few other customers. She heard the Doctor made a sound of protest, but it was quickly lost to the rest of the noises around her. Clara slowed down just a little – she made sure that she'd always be a few steps further than the Doctor, but she wasn't walking fast enough that he'd lose her completely.

Meanwhile, though, Clara took the time to appreciate the sights. She had been to many of these markets before, and each time, they looked completely new and different. (There was one time the market resembled an Aztec-like city. Another time, the market looked like one of the markets in the Middle East. And on a completely different occasion, the market looked like nothing at all, just a blank, white space with people milling around in between little black booths of invisible items. That day had been particularly interesting, though Clara wasn't too sure if she had liked that experience or not.)

But today, the market was a beautiful red and orange ombré color, with the black sky encasing the whole place. There were stars all around them – nebulas, galaxies, remnants of supernovas…that was another interesting thing about this particular market. There was no boundary or atmosphere from keeping anyone into looking at the stars. ("Markets are usually able to adjust to this kind of thing," the Doctor had explained. "Location, location, location.")

There were glowing orbs of light floating near the booths, occasionally changing color each time a different person walked by. (Clara had already figured out that her colors were blue and purple. Which she found just fine. The Doctor's colors were always blue and red, on the other hand, which seemed to suit him.)

Clara came to a short stop in front of a booth that was selling foreign and exotic-looking flowers. Feeling her heart skip a few beats in excitement, Clara leaned forward to inspect the plants. Some of them vaguely resembled the ones on Earth, while others looked completely different at once. (There was one flower that seemed to have a face. Clara was sure to steer clear of that one.)

"We could always just go to the planets that have these items," the Doctor said from Clara's side. She lifted her head and with a smile, plucked a single flower from one of the vases. She lifted it up to the side of her face, only asking, "What do you think of this one? I could always try to keep it in my apartment."

"Or you could keep it in the TARDIS. Might have better conditions."

Clara snorted. "Some parts of the TARDIS are radioactive and it's constantly switching rooms. I don't want to subject a flower to that kind of horror, thank you very much!"

"One time," the Doctor murmured. "One. Time."

"One time that resulted in multiple holographs, a dead ash-lava thing, and alternate realities," Clara shot back. She rubbed at the flower's petals tenderly, adding, "Besides, I think my apartment could always use with more color."

With that said, Clara turned to the front of the booth, looking for the owner. "Excuse me!" she called into the booth. "Sorry – I wanted to buy this flower? How much is it?"

A sudden thought crossed Clara's mind and then she was spinning back to the Doctor, asking worriedly, "You don't think we have to pay with our heirlooms, do you? Because I don't really have anything on me…ah!"

Clara jumped – and was vaguely aware of the Doctor's hand suddenly grabbing her arm – as something fell over her shoulder. She whipped around to see a person (she couldn't tell if the alien was a woman or man or something else altogether) with long, scraggly hair and a full face of eyes of all colors and shapes. Some were looking at the Doctor, others were focused on other customers, others on little flies buzzing around. Only one set of eyes was focused on Clara.

"How may I help you?" the booth owner asked, its voice quiet and dull.

"Ah! Yes!" Clara held up the flower again. "I would like to buy this!"

The alien regarded Clara warily. "Can't do," it replied, turning away. "Don't sell to humans."

Clara's face fell. "But there are plenty of other humans here!" she protested. "Why would you even bother setting up the flowers in the first place with other human customers milling around?"

"Don't sell to humans," it repeated, all of its eyes narrowing at once. Clara felt a chill run up her spine. Swallowing back her disappointment, she started to put the flower back in its designated vase –

"I'll pay for it," the Doctor said suddenly. "I'm not a human – as I'm sure you've already picked up."

The alien only laughed – a harsh, wet sound that caused Clara to shudder. "You?" it asked haughtily. "Why would someone of your kind associate with humans?"

Clara shot a curious glance at the Doctor, though he didn't seem to notice.

"I'll pay for it," he only repeated. "How much?"

"Doctor," Clara hissed out of the corner of her mouth. "Really, we could always go to a different booth – you don't have to –"

"No, no," the Doctor looked down at Clara. He paused. "You wanted the flower – seems hardly fair that this stubborn fellow won't bother giving it to you." For a moment, Clara thought she saw a smile linger over the Doctor's lips. "Besides, it's my treat. I made you a promise, didn't I?" He turned back to the alien. "Now – how much?"

xXx

"I can't believe you got into a fight with the booth-keeper," Clara said with a small laugh. She held the flower in one hand, the other tucked over the Doctor's arm. "I thought she was going to eat you alive."

"They, actually," the Doctor replied casually. "Not a she. They."

"Ah, alright," Clara said. "They. I can't believe you got away with it."

"Hundreds and hundreds of years of traveling in time and space – you have to pick up a few skills in bargaining here and there," the Doctor responded. He flitted his eyes down at Clara. "The flower would…" His voice trailed off awkwardly. "It would look better siting on the windowsill in your kitchen, don't you think? That particular spot always looks gloomy, all white and cream-colored and grey – and you know how much you hate gloomy."

Clara twirled the bright flower in her fingers. "I think you're right," she responded cheerfully. "It would look just right near my kitchen window." She gave the Doctor's arm a quick squeeze. "Thank you. Again."

"…you're most welcome."

A/N - Because...*sobs* Because the Doctor would totally fight to get Clara a flower. *sobs again* Because...that's what he's doing...right now, right? *buries face into pillow* (I'm still not over this. Someone, please give the Doctor a hug. TWO BILLION YEARS. Dear God, the Doctor has been listening to Clara Oswald for hope for two billion years.)

As always, reviews would be great! Constructive criticism is okay, but flames are not.