Hi, again!
For those who might be interested, I'm turning my Doctor Who/Portal crossover one-shot into a full-length story. It's called Mind of the Monster.
Anyhoo, here's the next prompt! This one has been sitting in my mind for a while now, and it's time I get it written. I know I still have a bunch of requests that I need to fulfill; just be patient, folks. I'll get to all of them (eventually).
God bless and have a great day (or night)!
ThePro-LifeCatholic
Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who. I also don't own this particular prompt idea.
WARMACHINEROX47: Hi, there. Well, you found me. Congratulations.
General Cat: Awww, thanks! I love the Christian support, as well as the praise for my story. It always brightens my day. Feel free to request anything at any time! If you're so into this prompt-fic, you could always check out some of my other Doctor Who stories on my profile. ;)
Writing Prompt #28: Mysterious Admirer
Characters: Clara Oswald, 11th Doctor, River Song, 12th Doctor
Shippings: one-sided Clara/Doctor, River/Doctor
Genre: Romance/Friendship/Hurt/Comfort
Rating: K
Summary: Clara still can't help but think of the Doctor as her boyfriend, and the TARDIS takes Twelve and Clara to the same place as River and Eleven. How will Clara react to seeing Eleven and River kissing and happily in love?
Prompted by: QueenAnneTudor
The closest that Clara Oswald had ever gotten to lying to the Doctor was when they discussed the subject of their relationship.
"I'm not your boyfriend, Clara," the man had said. It had been so strange, to hear a different accent, to see a different face, and yet she knew that the person in front of her had been him. The Doctor. Her Doctor.
"I never said you were," she had replied. This much had been true; the rest of the sentence had passed by, unspoken. There was nothing between them. She was his companion, his support, his carer and best friend. He was her guardian, her hero, her impossible and lonely friend.
Clara folded her arms across her chest and watched the Doctor at work. He was pacing around the console, flipping switches and stabbing at buttons with a careless deliberation that only he could pull off. No bowtie, no frills or long purple coat that flapped out behind him like a superhero cape, but she could still see him. The man who had fondly bopped her on the nose when he passed her, who had single-handedly saved her life and whisked her away to see the wonders of the universe.
The very man whom she had grown to…
A sudden jerk threw the absent-minded companion out of her musings. The TARDIS rocked to the side, causing Clara to fly towards the banister. Catching the metal pole, she cast a look around the console room, searching for the Doctor. When her gaze finally landed on him, she couldn't help but laugh. He was hanging onto the console with one hand, kicking his legs in the air. His mouth was wide open, as if he had been meaning to scream and never got around to getting the sound out.
The Doctor's skinny form flopped back down to the ground as the TARDIS rumbled again. A tremor shook her insides and threw her two occupants against the nearest wall.
"You alright?" the Doctor managed to gasp. Clara barely had time to give him a wordless nod before they were separated again. Quivers continued to rack the ship for several more seconds, and just when Clara really began to fear that she might become sick, the TARDIS ground to a sudden, violent stop.
For several long moments, Clara remained on the floor, waiting for her heart rate to slow down and the room to stop spinning in circles. Only when she felt the ground beneath her body did she raise herself slowly up onto her hands and knees. The low hum of the TARDIS, slightly disoriented and warbling between pitches, reached her ears, as well as the *hiss* of steam and…was that coughing?
A hazy grey cloud of smoke had filled the interior of the TARDIS while Clara had been recuperating on the floor, so it was no wonder that the Doctor was hacking. When Clara found him, he was underneath the floor panels, examining the wiring and tut-tutting softly to his ship.
"You alright, Doctor?" Clara inquired, rubbing her smarting eyes. The Doctor batted at the smoke ineffectually.
"I'm fine," he responded, not even bothering to turn around. Clara folded her arms and shifted her weight from one foot to another, quietly watching the Doctor attend to the TARDIS. They might have stayed this way for several minutes, both content with his or her particular task, relishing the calm of a few precious moments of stillness. But Ms. Oswald's sharp ears – trained to catch the scratching of pencil on paper as students passed notes, or the faint whispers of chatty pupils, or the faint "buzz" of a text alert – picked up a sound from outside the TARDIS. She glanced down at the Doctor, but he seemed to be oblivious of the new development.
"Hey, Doctor," she piped up.
"What?" the Doctor finally asked. He leaned forward, going deeper into the bowels of his ship.
"I'm just…gonna take a look outside, if that's alright with you."
The TARDIS took this moment to emit a piercing noise that sounded like a combination of a whistle and a shriek. The Doctor leaped backwards, dropping the wires he had been pulling on a half-second ago. He finally faced his companion.
"Sorry; what did you say?"
"Can I go outside?" Clara asked again, getting right to the point.
"We don't know what's out there," the Doctor reminded her. He spoke slowly, as if trying to describe a scenario to a small child. Clara's response was to place her hands on her hips and pinch her lips together.
"I can take care of myself, Doctor. Just one look?"
The Time-Lord looked ready to refuse her again, but his expression smoothed out into a half-smile. Shaking his head, he sighed and threw his arms up into the air.
"Fine. Just one look. Don't go too far. And if you see anything dangerous," here he jabbed a finger squarely at Clara's face, "Don't engage it in any way!"
"Thanks!" Clara exclaimed, throwing herself forward. The Doctor opened his mouth to tell her off, but was unable to get any sound out before he was engulfed in a large, wriggling hug. All he could do was flail his arms until Clara pulled away with a huge smile plastered to her face. Running past the console, Clara practically skipped to the wooden doors of the TARDIS. When she reached them, she came to a halt, fingers raised and poised.
Here was the moment. Anything and everything waited outside those blue doors. What would she see this time? Another world? Earth in the past? A savage, cruel monster? There was only one way to find out.
*snap*
The TARDIS' doors banged open, revealing a stretch of silver sand that surrounded the blue ship on all sides and ran onwards to meet the horizon. Clara gaped at the view; soft light made the grains of sand glimmer and glow like a million tiny diamonds. Gently, gingerly, she tapped the surface of the planet with one foot. When she didn't sink or catch fire, Clara sucked a deep breath and leaped forward. She landed with a muffled *plop* in a sloping sand dune. A silver spray of sand shot out from underneath her feet and settled again, looking as if nothing had disturbed the patch of earth. The English Teacher could've spent all day happily constructing sand castles if she didn't hear the noise again. Turning in the direction of the noise, Clara began to make her way awkwardly across the sand, waving her arms for balance as she trekked up small hills and stumbled down their crumbling slopes.
She heard the sound again, louder this time. A new noise accompanied it now: the wet *splat* of water striking wet sand. Skirting around a particularly steep and challenging dome of sand, Clara took shelter behind a lopsided rock structure. The squat tower was narrow and smooth at the bottom, worn away by centuries of waves washing over its surface. From her hiding spot, Clara could clearly make out the noise; to her surprise, the sound identified itself as laughter. A half-second of indecision paralyzed the companion, but she pushed her fear firmly to the side.
"What would the Doctor do?" she muttered softly. Without giving herself extra time to stall, Clara peeked out from behind the rock…and froze.
It was him.
It was him.
There were two figures on the beach, standing where sand met sea. The silver grains shimmered as clear rushes of water lapped at them, sucking them away from the shoreline and into the watery depths far from shore. One of the two – a middle-aged woman with a thick mane of gold hair clinging to her shoulders and back in stringy strands – was dressed in a gown fit for a queen. A deep-purple gown that was currently soaking wet, with pieces of seaweed hanging off of it.
"River?" Clara could hardly believe her eyes. But her gaze shifted quickly, focusing on the man who was chasing Professor Song across the beach.
He was in full tux, and the tux was covered in sand and what looked suspiciously like barnacles. His brown hair was tousled by the wind, his shoes and socks had been discarded in a heap near the rock, and his bowtie, barely knotted, was in danger of falling off his neck at any moment.
Doctor.
The Doctor.
Her Doctor.
Clara shrank back against the structure, keeping her eyes fixed on the couple. They were chasing each other to-and-fro, flinging sand and seawater into the air and at the other's face. And they were laughing. Their voices danced across the breeze, intertwining with each other in a tangle of joyful merriment. As Clara watched, River and the Doctor came to a sudden standstill, a space of mere inches between them. There was no noise except for the crash of rippling waves and the low, haunting whistle of the wind. Then, slowly, the Doctor leaned down. River stood on tiptoe to meet him halfway.
Clara ducked behind the rock, unable to watch the unfolding events. She was suddenly aware of a sickening twist in her stomach, a flood of emotions that she couldn't quite identify. There was hurt, confusion, shock…
…There was sadness. A tinted sorrow that left a bitter taste in the back of her choked throat.
Without looking back, Clara stumbled away from the rock, tripping through the sand that erased her winding path back to the TARDIS.
Clara shut the doors gently, listening to them click softly as they closed. She leaned against the door for a moment, squeezing her eyes shut. She would refuse the tears that wanted to run freely down her cheeks. She was strong. She was Clara Oswald.
"She's my carer. She cares so I don't have to."
She had never seen him so happy, so child-like, so carefree and young.
What was wrong with her?
"Aha!" The Doctor's voice shouted suddenly. There was a crash and all the lights died at once. Then a loud hum sounded throughout the whole ship, and the TARDIS came to life. A contented thrum rumbled from seemingly everywhere. The Doctor emerged from beneath the console, wiping black streaks from his hands onto his coat. He was beaming, looking more youthful than what his appearance suggested.
"Clara?" The smile fell from his face when he caught sight of his companion's expression. The Doctor was not one to show concern easily (not in this body, anyway), but he still felt it keenly from time to time: more times than he would care to admit. And all too often, his biting concern found its source in his companions.
"Clara," he tried again, more softly. Clara turned towards him with shining eyes and a quivering smile. "Are you alright?"
She nodded, wordlessly, and stepped forward. The Doctor immediately knew what she wanted – needed – and he couldn't see how he could deny her. Opening his arms, he braced himself for the suffocating neck-hold.
What he didn't expect was the warm embrace that Clara gave him. She buried her face in his clothing, taking in the smell of oil and burned rubber, stardust and comets; the scent of eternity and a thousand, thousand worlds clung to the fabric of his purple shirt. She laid her head against his chest, listening to the rhythmic pounding of two hearts. Hearts that had endured so much and lost more than words could express.
"Clara," he whispered hoarsely into her hair. She smelled of strawberry shampoo and textbooks; of newness and freshness and the scent of wonder and a thousand, thousand worlds.
"Clara, you know I'm always here for you."
"Clara, I'm not your boyfriend."
Clara sank into the folds of his coat, wiping a few scattered tears onto his coatsleeve. His strong yet fragile grip comforted her, giving her warmth and strength; a sense of home and belonging. Perhaps he could never give her everything, but what he had given her was far more than enough. She smiled.
"I know."
Here you are, QueenAnneTudor! I have been suffering from writer's block like you guys wouldn't believe. Even though I was on Spring Break last week, I was unable to finish any writing whatsoever. Hopefully it will get better, now that I've gotten a prompt actually written and out of the way.