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Chapter 11

"I have something to show you!" the Doctor announced happily as they stepped inside his house after the painting class on Friday.

Clara followed him upstairs and once they had reached his studio the Doctor was starting to grin proudly at her. At first Clara had no clue what it was about or what he was trying to show her. She had seen the painting that was currently on his easel already during a video call. But then she saw it.

Clara hadn't looked around the entire studio because in the time she had already spent with the Doctor she had memorized its look and décor but now her eyes fell on the spot that had previously been occupied by the painting of Amy in the barley field. Only it wasn't there any longer. Instead there was now a painting of a place Clara knew all too well. It was her paradise scenario, exactly like she had always thought it would look like. The sky, the mountains, the green meadows, the trees. And she was in it, too. Her back was turned to the viewer but she still recognized her hair and her favourite shirt. Her arm was stretched out behind her and she was holding a hand of someone who was outside of the picture. For a moment Clara was too stunned to say anything.

"That is you," the Doctor said quietly from behind her, "Leading me into your dream world."

She didn't know what surprised her most. Certainly not that he had painted her because that was what she had come to his house for in the first place. It was the intimacy of the picture that baffled her, like her paradise scenario had suddenly become their scenario, a secret world that they shared that no one else knew about. And then there was the fact that he had taken down the painting of Amy to replace it with one depicting her.

"I worked on it almost every night the past week before I went to sleep. I couldn't stop thinking about it," the Doctor explained.

Clara turned around and looked at him. She hadn't realized how much her story had meant to him until this point.

"I don't know what to say," she admitted after a moment.

The Doctor smiled at her. "You don't have to say anything. You're my muse now. It's only fitting that a picture of you should be where I can see it at all times."

"But what about the painting of Amy?" Clara found herself asking, "I thought that was beautiful."

"Amy?" the Doctor cocked an eyebrow, "Why are you calling her Amy?"

And that was when it occurred to Clara that they hadn't even talked about her running into Amy at the gallery. Or the fact that she had gone out for coffee with his former muse.

"I, erm," Clara hesitated, "I've sort of met Amy at the gallery. And. . . we went out for coffee. We'll probably go out for coffee again as well. Is that a problem?"

The Doctor didn't say anything in reply.

"She's really nice and we get along," she bit down on her lip, "Or is this a bit weird for you? The muse and the. . . ex muse?"

The Doctor blew the air from his lungs. "I don't know. I can't say I've ever been in this situation before," he paused, raising his eyebrows further, "You don't talk about me, do you?"

Clara giggled. "What? Are you afraid she's going to tell me about your question mark underpants?"

He groaned in reply and turned away from her. Clara didn't quite understand what came over her in this moment but a second later she threw her arms around him in a tight hug despite his protests.

"Clara," the Doctor swallowed hard, "What are you doing?"

She smiled against the fabric of his holey jumper. "Thanking you. I love the painting. I love that you hung it there. And I've decided to come to Paris with you."

The Doctor suddenly pushed her away from him, his hands remaining on her arms and a wide grin spread across his face.

"You have to pack an evening dress, or better yet two," he said excitedly, "I have so many things I want to show you in Paris. We could go to the opera or see a concert and the Eiffel Tower and the Arc de Triomphe and-"

"Stop," Clara told him, laughing, "Are we staying a weekend or three weeks?"

"Doesn't mean we can't use the weekend to the fullest, does it?"

A smile crossed her lips and she raised her hand to gently cup the Doctor's cheek. This time he didn't draw back from her touch.

"I'm looking forward to the weekend, Doctor," she said sincerely.

OOO

One thing Clara hadn't even considered was her family, especially since the Sunday she would be spending in Paris was her grandmother's birthday and she, along with the rest of her family, had been invited over for tea. Clara knew that her grandmother would tell her to take the chance and go to Paris, she knew that her grandmother loved that city, having spend so many wonderful holidays there with her late husband that she wouldn't be mad and yet Clara still felt this pang in her stomach as she picked up the phone to cancel on her grandmother.

"Clara, honey," her grandmother greeted her in a friendly manner, "How are you?"

"I'm fine," Clara replied and cleared her throat, "How about you?"

There was a small pause at the other end of the line before her grandmother spoke again. "Something tells me you're not calling me because you're 'fine'. What is it, honey? Spill!"

Damn. Her grandmother just knew her all too well.

"Bit of a guilty conscience," she admitted, "Do you remember when I told you about the art class I was going to attend?"

"Yes, I remember," she said, "Still waiting for a painting from you to hang in my living room."

Clara laughed. "Oh, it's still gonna be a while until I create something living room worthy, I think. We're only just starting. But. . ."

"But what, honey?" her grandmother asked kindly.

"I've been invited to go to Paris. It's sort of related to the art class but it would be on the weekend of your birthday," Clara confessed, her voice low and insecure.

"Don't even think about blowing that off for my birthday and don't you even start to feel bad about that," she said strictly, "Every young woman should see Paris! You go and you have fun!"

"You're not mad that I'll be missing your birthday?"

"Not at all," her grandmother reassured her, "I'll still be a year older when you return and we'll have tea, just the two of us. And you better take pictures and show them to me. Oh, I miss Paris. You know, I would blow off my own birthday party if that meant I could go to the city of love."

Clara giggled. She had known her grandmother would say exactly that but hearing it from her was a relief.

"Thanks, granny," Clara said, smiling to herself, "I'll bring you something nice from Paris and I'll call you when I get back."

After they hung up Clara felt relieved and was now looking forward to Paris with the Doctor even more. Who knew what new experiences and adventures that city had in store for her.