a/n: I just wanted to drop a quick note in to say thank you for all of the alerts, favorites, views and reviews on the prologue of this! It really motivated me to update, so I hope you enjoy. c: Don't be afraid to drop a review if you have any thoughts, because I'd love to read it!
Clara awoke to the sound of muted conversation from the next room over, and to the realization, several minutes later, that she had no idea where she was. Panicked, she scrambled up and felt the previous night come rushing back in a torrent so powerful it gave her a headache. She groaned and rubbed her temples as she stood up, the old bed she'd fallen asleep on creaking as it was freed of her weight. She was still in her sooty, smoke-smelling clothes from before, and she felt rather disgusting. The pocket watch was clenched in her fist, and as she loosened her grip, her fingers protested sorely.
She stretched her arms out, yawned, and opened the bedroom door to see if Nina was still in. She had no idea what time it was, but the golden light shifting through the window told her it was probably still fairly early. She stepped out into the living room, surprised to see that Nina was sitting in the armchair opposite the couch, having a conversation with a very alert looking Doctor.
He was leaning forward intently, his arms resting on his knees as if the conversation was very important. Nina seemed more laid back, reclining in her chair with her legs crossed, her curly hair in a ponytail over her shoulder. Clara had assumed it to be too early in the morning for drinking, but Nina clearly didn't; the young woman had a half-empty glass of red wine in one hand, which she was swirling thoughtfully as the Doctor spoke to her.
As soon as Clara came out of her room, they both stopped talking. Nina glanced over. "Morning!" She said cheerfully. "John and I have just been talking."
The Doctor glanced up at her with an almost unreadable expression. "You're Clara, aren't you?" He asked. His voice made Clara's heart skip a beat—he somehow sounded different. The way he spoke, something about his tone, just wasn't the Doctor. And what was it Nina had called him?
"Yeah," She replied, realizing she'd just been staring at him unsurely for a few seconds. "I'm Clara. You're, uh, John. Right?"
He nodded, with a faint smile. "Pleased to meet you."
Clara felt a lump form in her throat, and she tried to swallow it. "You, too," She managed.
He scooted over on the couch so she could sit down, and she did, a little uncertainly. "So," He started, "Would you mind explaining what happened last night? I really can't remember much."
"Um…" Clara hesitated. "Well, there's not much to tell," She finally said. "You'd had a few, and we were chatting when suddenly you fell off your chair and kind of got knocked out. I couldn't have just left you there, so I figured I should just…"
The hint of a grin crossed his face. "Bring me back to your flat?"
Clara's entire face flushed. "Yes. No. No! I didn't even live here until last night. Really, it's Nina's flat."
Nina shrugged and took a sip of wine. "It's your place now too," She reminded Clara. "Oh! Speaking of, do you want a drink? There's plenty in the—"
"Nah." Clara waved a hand, dispelling her new flatmate's offer. "Thanks, though. I'm not really a big drinker."
"Oh, you're not?" Nina raised a carefully sculpted eyebrow. "What were you doing down at the pub last night, then?"
Shoot. Too late, Clara realized the hole in her story. "I was, uh, meeting some friends," She said, stumbling over her words in an attempt to cover for herself. "Well, I was supposed to. They didn't show. I'd only had part of a drink when the Doct—When John and I started talking." Clara grimaced inwardly as she almost used his proper title.
"Oh, that's right. I remember now." The Doctor flicked his gaze towards her and his smile grew.
Clara giggled at the goofy expression. "What?" She asked.
He shook his head slowly, still smiling at her. "Nothing. Just… It feels like I know you. Have we met before this?"
"You mean before last night?" Clara corrected. She swallowed the lump in her throat. "No, I don't think so."
Even as a human, the Doctor was smart. His bright green eyes inspected her curiously, leaving Clara shifting a little embarrassedly under his gaze. She looked away, and swore she heard Nina snicker.
"Well." The Doctor (John? She really wasn't sure what to call him) wiggled over a little and stood up, stretching his long legs. "It's been lovely, but I ought to get back to my flat." He nodded at Nina and then flashed Clara the hint of another smile. "But I really do appreciate the help."
"I'll let you out," Nina offered, standing up to show him to the door while Clara sat back and wondered if he actually had a flat, or if that was just fake memories. She never could be sure with the Doctor—for all she knew, maybe he did have a flat somewhere in England. Clara settled back into the cracked leather cushions and listened to the other two have a muted conversation, followed by the creak of a door and a shout of, "Bye!"
A few moments later, Nina returned to the couch, plopped herself down across from Clara, and leaned towards her intently. "So." She started.
Clara flicked her gaze from side to side, then settled it back on her flatmate. "…Yeah?" She finally asked, when Nina didn't reply.
The other woman gestured one hand towards the closed door. "You and him."
Clara only gaped at her, for so long that Nina sighed and rolled her eyes. "Come on! I'm not seeing things." A grin spread across her face. "He likes you."
"No," Clara replied firmly, recovering her composure. "He's hungover, not thinking straight and we don't even know each other." The lie felt like a ball of hot lead in her stomach, but she forced herself to keep talking. "He was just glad for the help."
"He smiled at you. A lot," Nina pointed out.
"He smiles," Clara repeated. "A lot." It was hard to think about the Doctor from just days ago, smiling at her as they flew off to some planet she couldn't even pronounce the name of, the TARDIS floor jolting beneath their feet and flinging them into each other, making them laugh. And suddenly her mind was filled with all those memories, from so recent but suddenly so far away. Their first trip to Akhaten, when they stood before the parasite god and watched her leaf dissolve into golden flecks, how they saved the world from the Cybermen, their near-death experience in the pocket universe. And all throughout that, sprinkled between the adventures and the dangers and the excitement were all those little smiles, the way he talked, how he hugged her all the time and for no apparent reason. John—the Doctor—whoever he was now—might have looked the same, but he wasn't. Not really.
The previous night caught up to Clara all of a sudden and she sank back into the couch, feeling almost as if she couldn't breathe. Tears started rolling down her cheeks, and she dropped her head into her hands, feeling a sense of overwhelming helplessness wrap itself around her like a blanket of ice.
Nina made a small noise of surprise from the other side of the room, and Clara felt the couch shift beneath her as the other woman sat down next to her and put an arm around her shoulders. "Hey, hey, I didn't mean to upset you. What did I say?"
"It's not you," Clara replied, her voice muffled by her hands. "I'm sorry, I just…" She heaved a heavy sigh and raised her head, wiping the tears off her face, suddenly self-conscious. "Sorry. I'm all right now."
"You obviously aren't. Come on, we're flatmates now! Tell me what's on your mind."
Clara gave Nina a grateful look. "It's just…" She took a shuddering breath. "I used to know him. A while back." Or yesterday, She added silently, though she figured that detail would make her story a lot more confusing. "We were great friends. Now, he… he barely even recognizes me."
"But he asked if you had met before," Nina pointed out. "Why didn't you say yes? It might have jogged his memory."
Clara shrugged helplessly. "I… I don't know," She mumbled between choked sobs. "I just miss him so damn much, but I'm afraid he's changed. What if he doesn't like me anymore and he doesn't want to be friends?" The little voice of reason at the back of her mind kept reminding her that it was a temporary situation, but she just couldn't listen in her current state.
Beside her, Nina snorted softly. "Clara, do you not have eyes? He likes you. Trust me."
The way she enunciated her words made Clara guess that Nina was referring to an entirely different sort of like than the one to which she was referring, but she managed a small, wavering smile anyways. "Thanks," She said, wiping the tears from under her eyes again. "I hope you're right."
Nina smiled and cocked an eyebrow. "I'm always right," She replied, getting to her feet. "You have nothing to worry about." She gestured for Clara to get up. "Now come on, you look awful. Maybe a shower will make you feel better."
"Oh." Clara glanced down at her soot-stained, ripped clothes. "I guess so, but I don't really have any spare clothes."
"You can borrow some of mine," Nina offered. "They might be a bit big, but they should work."
Clara made a mental note to go back to the shut-down TARDIS later and see if she could find the wardrobe, but for the moment she accepted a small stack of Nina's clothes and was about to head to the shower when there was a knock on the door.