Part Four: Epiphany

'...And in the twenty sixth century, the Terra-Draconian Empire will be forged,' Clara continued, 'reigning over the Milky Way for a billion years of peace and prosperity...'

She then glanced to Aylish who returned a knowing look. All the while, Darcy stared from the window with wonder, happy in her own little world of obliviousness.

'So,' Clara whispered and smiled sweetly as she crouched down to the little girls height. 'What did you think of that history lesson?'

'Best one ever!' the mite sang, setting the Time Lady's hearts aglow.

'Have you finished your book report on George's Marvellous Medicine?' she enquired, softly.

Darcy shook her head. 'Nearly. I have a bit left.'

'Go get your stuff then,' the Teacher replied and nodded towards the door. 'I'll help you finish it.'

As Darcy skipped off into the depths of the living machine, Clara rose, pensively rubbing the back of her neck.

'Why can I still remember everything?' Aylish cautiously asked and looked down at her watch. It was perfectly intact.

'We were at the centre of the event,' the Time Lady waved away as she strolled back through the doors, not really clarifying anything at all. 'Plus, you're a time traveller now and the rules are slightly different for us,' Clara then added as she sunk her fingers into the jelly-like segment of the console and closed her eyes in concentration. 'We're slightly protected from temporal changes, and that includes our minds...'

Aylish looked around at the warm cavern that embraced her with a forest of light and soothed her with its pulse-like ambiance. 'Yes, very much like a tree...' she privately mused, then, aloud, 'what are you doing?'

'Sending a report to Gallifrey,' Clara mumbled, eyes still closed. Of their involvement she had no doubt, but further work beyond a quantum ward was required on their end.

Stepping back from the telepathic circuits, she shot her companion a side-long glance and walked around to the Helmic Orientators. 'You need to be more careful in the future,' she then said, completely blindsiding the lass. In the next instant they were hightailing it away from the event, as far as Clara dared venture to the edge of the map.

'I am careful,' Aylish returned, a little too bemused for a retort.

'You died,' Clara continued. She was going for tact, but it came off as a bit more 'sledgehammer' than she would have liked. 'I saw it once, but there were all those versions of me, without you...'

'And, here I am,' the lass replied quite cheerfully and sketched a curtsy. 'I was in trouble and you did something clever, you clever girl...'

Clara all but winced at the words and the voice in her head sang that the lass was already doomed. 'I thought exactly the same thing about the Doctor,' she then informed, quietly, and what she felt in that moment wiped the grin from Aylish's face.

Before she could continue, Darcy came bounding in with workbook and the Time Lady's whole demeanour lit-up as she span to greet her.

What Aylish had felt prior left her with a lot to ruminate over however.

JOTUNHEIM, 6.2/zebra/309

The frost nipped at Darcy's nose, but she was far too diverted to notice. Three girls–one once human, one mostly human, and one who still believed in Father Christmas–lay out in the crisp, virgin snow, between the Ashildr Sea and the Singing Forest.

'So your friend had a sea named after her?' Aylish asked with a touch of a frown as the night sky danced through brilliant hues of green and red and blue. One of the furthest wonders of the universe, few got to appreciate the Aurora Dagmar, which lit the expanse as vividly as a sun rise.

'Calling her 'friend' is a bit of a stretch,' Clara retorted, projecting large quantities of jealousy and resentment.

'You should try to be friends with everybody,' Darcy faintly noted, safe and cosy between her two favourite carers.

'And you would be right,' the Teacher enthused and smiled as she recalled what she always used to tell her Doctor, 'but things aren't always that easy.'

'They should be,' the little girl muttered and Clara nodded, the lights above reflected in her somewhat sleepy eyes.

Aylish sat up, the fluffy snow falling from her incredibly warm winter coat. 'Just as you should be in bed, little missy.'

'Awwww...' Darcy moaned.

'She's right. C'mon,' Clara agreed with a smirk and a nod as she hauled the little girl up out of the creased blanket of powder. 'We can always come back tomorrow night, and we're up to a new story, aren't we?'

'Yeah!' the wee lass confirmed and skipped off happily to the deserted diner.

'So sweet,' the Time Lady cooed to herself. Then, to Aylish, 'Fancy getting a bottle from the kitchen? I think we earned it today...'

Considering Clara's directions, Aylish put more trust in her nose for finding the kitchen during her first forty eight hours aboard–the place always smelt like baking! Now, however, she felt she was getting the hang of navigating the Tardis' labyrinthine world, having found her way to the 'galley' and only getting lost twice along the way.

The complex aroma of cakes, cookies and soufflés was a delight as it hit her and she strolled past well-stocked-shelf after well-stocked shelf. There was a grand Auger to one side, accompanied by a Belfast sink and opposed by ample yards of worktop kept in pristine condition. Everything from coffee machine to quantum-accurate scales adorned this sleek, dark-granite space–including the Great British Bake-Off 2063 trophy, which hadn't surprised the lass at all–but the objects she sought were tucked away in the far corner.

Approaching the pleasantly provisioned wine rack, Aylish was surprised to find a small, ornate box–the sort you'd usually find a watch or necklace in. It was dark blue in colour, and sealed with a length of white silk tied into a pretty bow. Picking it up, she also found that the string-attached tag was addressed to her in fine, swirling writing. It said:

'To Aylish. Because I never got you anything...

PTO.'

Intrigued, she turned the slither of card over to find that the back bore the passage:

'And because you showed up when I needed you.'

Heart swelling, she removed the ribbon and carefully opened the box. Her hand then shot up and clamped over her mouth as the simple Yale key within sparkled under the fluorescent light.

Darcy lay in bed, the quilt up to her eyes as she stared at the glowing stars on her ceiling and Clara opened the book she'd selected. Although beyond her reading level, the wee mite had taken a shine to the adventures of Sherlock Holmes–with the stipulation that the narrator use the appropriate 'posh' and 'cockney' accents–and Clara was hoping she'd have the same success with Dickens.

''Marley was dead, to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that,'' Clara read with all the poise and certainty of a Governess who had first hand account of the events of A Christmas Carol. Suddenly, however, she stopped and stared into the wooden floorboards with the gravest of expressions.

'Clara?' Darcy asked, soft and sincere. 'What's wrong?'

The Time Lady blinked the haunting of her future away and turned to her charge with a tired smile, the wooden chair creaking with the excise of tension. 'Nothing dearey. Just something I've been wondering for a while.'

'Like what?'

The smile waned slightly as the Teacher simply said, 'you'll understand someday...'

Padding to her rooms, Clara passed the library junction along with the tall, blue-and-gold draped figure stood within. Stopping and frowning, she took a couple of steps back and frowned some more at the depressingly regal Athenia Astravaliana.

My parallel cousin simply smiled down at her in return, turquoise locks spilling in curls over gilded shoulder-plates.

'You knew what was going to happen, didn't you?' Clara quietly accused, blood flushing her cheeks.

'If you are referring to the Time Lord council, then yes, they did,' Athenia deflected with haughty grace. 'They used the temporal distortion that surrounds Port Gloam as cover for forcing your Time Capsule to materialise.'

'I wouldn't have noticed anyway. I was-' she started and stopped, not wanting to sound unprofessional. 'What?' the Time Lady then hissed as Athenia's words sunk in. 'Why did they force me to land there!?'

'They foresaw that your taking Aylish as companion would lead you to the event above Neptune.'

'So everything I've done since leaving Gallifrey has been an orchestration?' Clara retorted, seething now. 'A trick to lead me to that place?' This felt so much like Trap Street that she wanted to scream, but, as usual, she'd keep most of it bottled for when it really counted. 'What if I'd have failed? Hmm?' she enquired with a lazy wave of an arm while the other remained tightly clamped around her stomach.

'We had everything in hand,' Athenia calmly replied, her saccharine little smile never wavering as she put her lot in with the rest of their kind. 'Lady President Ohilla felt you could use one final exam–a practical–to be sure that her opinion of you wasn't misplaced. It seems you've adopted the unorthodox approach of your first mentor, but... you passed the test, and my Lady is pleased.'

Clara's arms dropped and her shoulders sank as she relaxed a little. Her former room-mate and study partner certainly knew how to play her–and as I write this, I do wonder if this disposition of friendship between them played some part in my own memory loss, as well as the first failed attempt to apprehend the time-extracted Clara...

'Those twenty minuets will be sustained and time-locked so that they can never be interfered with,' Athenia continued, 'the Sontaran Black Hole Shipyard has been erased, and as for the duplicates of Aylish and yourself... Consider them as little more than ghosts. We certainly won't be factoring your other self into our 'arrangement.''

That damned arrangement. It was certainly a kindness that the Time Lords had made reparations for Rassilon's folly, but Trap Street still hung over her like an axe. Twelve more chances were all she had, and for a girl who'd died a thousand or more time already, that was few indeed.

Clara shivered at the reminder and the lingering resentment churned within. 'What about the Doctor?' she asked by way of self-distraction. 'Isn't this his sort of thing?'

'You know as well as I that even he has his limits,' Athenia answered enigmatically, looking for all the world like some northern ice-goddess with her arctic-blue eyes, lips and blush. 'The portion of the Doctor's timeline that is most closely synchronised with your own places him and Ashildr at the founding of the Final Conclusion.'

Peace talks... Clara couldn't begin to imagine how bored her Doctor must have been feeling at that moment, but a telling glint in Athenia's eyes, and a twist in her smile revealed something more.

'Wait...' Clara added with a smirk and a faintly nervous half-chuckle. 'He knows about all of this, doesn't he?'

The native Gallifreyan tried not to titter as she nodded.

'Who did he punch this time?' she asked with a contented sort of sigh and a role of the eyes.

'The Castellan,' was all that Athenia could get out as a ladylike giggle took over for a few moments and Clara put her hand to her mouth to keep her own composure. The butterflies in her tummy certainly couldn't be stopped however, and it wasn't the first time her Doctor had felt so compelled to defend her honour from the dusty old bully–the difference being that she'd always been there to calm him before.

As her Academy friend reclaimed her poise, Clara noted, 'I don't like being manipulated,' with only a modicum of the ire she might have been entitled to. 'Being put on another path without so much as a say in the matter.'

'But assignments are part of the deal you made,' Athenia said softly, a touch of disfavour colouring her gaze. 'The Time Lords don't do anything without thought of remuneration.'

'I hadn't noticed,' Clara responded, quoting Aylish with effortless snark.

Athenia raised a perfectly groomed eye brow in a manner that demanded reason from the 'privileged' graduate.

'Look,' Clara sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose as she felt the tension gather toward a schism sized migraine, 'I really don't mind the assignments. I was actually looking forward to meeting Queen Victoria,' and finding out why she'd asked for her, specifically. 'But, like the Doctor... Well, maybe not like the Doctor–he's usually a big old grump these days.' Pausing for a moment and ignoring her friend's smirk–which she believed to be a mocking impersonation–she began anew. 'What I mean to say is that I would like a little more openness. A little heads-up. A memo. A thinly-veiled order. That's it,' she raised her open hands in honesty. 'That's all I want. I do not want Tardis-jacking because the Council can't be bothered to phone.'

'Better?' Athenia asked, amused as usual by her diminutive sister's 'Earthisms'.

Clara let go a puff of breath. 'A bit. Yeah...'

'You'll appreciate the next bit then...' the glorified gofer added and Clara got the inkling that she really wouldn't.

'Go on...'

'We have a second, 'on-going' assignment for you. Involving Aylish.'

Clara was now officially interested.

'A new Matrix-prophecy has come to light-' Athenia revealed.

'Here we go...' Clara grumbled, spoiling the harbinger's sombre tune.

'The prophecy states that 'after the ruination of the Hybrid, the half-orphaned companion of the magician's apprentice will claim her hidden throne with sword of nightfall and lay waste the warriors of time,'' Athenia quoted, regardless.

The Teacher folded her arms, looking decidedly unimpressed. 'Let me guess. It refers to her as 'the once and future queen'?'

'How did you-'

'Me and the Doctor have a habit of stumbling across this stuff,' Clara casually explained.

'Well, it is of great concern and interest to Gallifrey...'

'Just like last time,' the impossible girl chirped. 'When we stood in the ashes of Gallifrey... about a billion years after it fell...'

'Sorry,' Athenia muttered, but it was so adorable and genuine that any remaining anger fizzled away.

'And you do realise 'the warriors of time' could refer to about ten different races, right? If at all...'

'You know what?' Athenia retorted, throwing her hands up as she let go of all airs and pretence. 'You're right. The council are paranoid. These things are never what we expect.' All the while Clara just nodded along as if she had always been right and would continue to be so. 'But, you'll still look into it?' the young Time Lady then asked.

'Of course,' Clara confirmed with a grin.

'Ok then,' Athenia smiled, having expected more of a rant from her infamous House-sister. 'I would love to stay and chat, but Ace needs a helpful reminder about memory worms, and it's best if Aylish not know about our discussion.'

'If you see the Doctor,' Clara asked as her friend began to fade, 'give him a hug.'

Athenia gave her a look as if to say even that would be wildly inappropriate given the third part of the arrangement.

Alone again, but reminded that Gallifrey was always watching, Clara remained, statue-like, processing.

She was still processing when rooted in front of her chalkboard with a glass of wine in hand.

'You're not telling me something,' Aylish noted as she looked up from her armchair. She could practically see the guilt, conflict and wariness pouring from the Time Lady.

Clara's eyes flickered in her direction, but she never turned from the case chart. 'Stop it,' she said with a hardened edge to her voice.

'Hay,' Aylish replied in defence as she swung her legs over the arm and scooped up the bowl of chocolate soufflé, 'it's not my fault I can read you like a book.' The lass then bravely sampled a spoonful of the desert and her eyes widened in revelation. 'Mohmymod!' she exclaimed.

'You know what?' Clara countered in exasperation, sticking the chalk down and gesturing precariously with her glass holding hand. 'I'm not playing their games. They did that to me and it isn't fair!'

She then told Aylish all about the prophesy, watching as the lass' expression morphed through various stages of surprise.

'Now there's somethin' to look forward to!' Aylish finally remarked with a strain of uncomfortably familiar sarcasm. 'They do realise we just pwned a bunch of time travellin' meanies?'

Clara took a swig of her drink and picked the chalk back up. 'They do. But you don't have the throne or the creepy sword yet.'

'Couldn't they just be a chair, like this, and a constellation or somethin'?'

The Time Lady sighed. 'This is the point me and the Doctor keep trying to make, but they never listen. They're too paranoid. Everything has to be about them.'

Silence fell, and Aylish decided she'd have to ask about this Doctor guy that Clara kept going on about. Considering the heady cocktail of emotions that the Time Lady gave off when doing so however, she figured the stories could last until later. Idly flicking through the pages of her book, she then resorted to, 'What are you thinking about?' as a means of distraction.

'My legacy,' Clara answered, quite honestly.

'You just saved the universe,' Aylish stated with innocent clarity.

'Not that many will ever know,' the Time Lady mused. 'You lose track of reality at the Academy–what really matters–and today kinda brought it all back. I'm destined to die,' she added, bleakly. 'It's already happened, and it won't be long till it catches up with me, but I can't help wondering what I'll be leaving behind. Memory is a very important thing, you know.'

As an empath and a woman, the truth and answer to Clara's soul-searching was obvious, but she didn't want to speak out of turn in matters she knew little of. 'You Time Lords are a morbid bunch too,' she said instead.

Clara nodded and smiled, appreciating the levity that her friend brought.

'You bring hope to people. Well, me and Darcy,' the Lass continued. 'I'm sure you've brought hope to others too. All you need is certainty that that hope doesn't fade with your passing. That it might continue to help...'

The stark surprise of inspiration suddenly flashed across Clara's features, followed by an invisible-yet-electrifying wave of joy, excitement and apprehension.

'That's it...' Clara declared and span to her companion, sloshing wine. 'You are such a...' She gestured to her enthusiastically with both hands before giving her the glass and clopping hurriedly up the steps to the console.

'What are you?' Aylish started with a bemused smile as she watched the Time Lady interface with the telepathic circuits.

'Making a request,' the lonely traveller answered, somewhat enigmatically.

With a bright happiness hitherto unseen by the lass, Clara scurried around the central column and down to a second chalkboard on the far side of the chamber. Aylish then leaned over for a better view as long looming night passed away and the Time Lady cleared the board of its calculations with a swipe of her dressing gown sleeve.

Clara then raised her chalk and took to clean slate with, 'Hope.'

Next Time: The Homecoming

Life was looking good for Olivia Clary, until she found herself caught in a web of conflict as old as the legend of the Doctor...