-REMEMBER ME-
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The Cabin in the Woods
I don't know where I am.
Please help. I don't know where I am.
You're in my time stream. Everything around you is me.
The first thing she was aware of was the nausea in her stomach. The next thing she was aware of was the burning sensation crawling it's way up her throat...and she barely got her hair out of the way in time as she puked into snow-covered grass.
She rolled over and collapsed.
Sometime later, she became aware of sensation again. She was in bed-a soft, warm, bed. She ached everywhere, but the nausea was gone. She felt safe and well-rested. She buried her face deeper into the pillow. It's scent was familiar but somehow foreign. She inhaled deeply and felt her body relax and awaken. She blinked open her eyes.
The first thing she saw was a nightstand with flowers and a candle on it for light; there was also a cool glass of water, and watercress sandwiches, and jammy dodgers, and all her other favorite snacks. She reached for the glass of water and downed it immediately, suddenly realizing how very thirsty she was. It was the best tasting thing she'd ever had.
Slightly more alert now, Clara observed her surroundings. She was in a room. A warm, cozy room that looked like it might be in a log cabin. The walls were covered in children's drawings, and there were all sorts of knick-knacks and strange inventions and keepsakes scattered about. There was a small window, through which she could see that it was snowing. Snow had piled up on the frame-it had been snowing for quite a while.
Where was she? What planet? What time? Who had put her in bed? The last she remembered was snow-covered grass and snow on her eyelashes...a sensation of being carried… the crunch of boots on snow...a warm chest covered in rough tweed, from which she could hear strong, steady thumpthumpthumpthump, thumpthumpthumpthump.
Four hearts. A Time Lord. Who had taken her out of the snow? Who had put her in bed, and given her all her favorite snacks? Someone who knew her well...or someone that had been able to read her mind or something.
Whoever they were, though, she was inclined to trust them. She decided to worry about it later, so she stretched every aching sore muscle in her body, noting she was covered in semi-healed bruises. She had injuries-but they were well tended and it was nothing too serious. She stood, and the floor was pleasantly warm.
She spotted a mirror and headed for it, suddenly realizing she must look awful...and indeed she did. She was dirty, her hair was greasy, and had traces of dried mud behind her ears and in her hair. The battle...the Doctor...where was the Doctor?
Suddenly she remembered...the Angel...The Doctor...did he get out alright? Surely he must have-the Tardis had been just there...but the Angel...the Angel could have got him...he could be anywhere...hopefully he'd gotten away.
She felt very dirty. She wanted a shower and a change of clothes desperately. She looked around for a bathroom, and found two doors in the room...one presumably let out, the other to a bathroom. She was really wanting to look presentable before she faced whoever was her rescuer, so she headed for the one she felt was more logically the bathroom.
Instead of a shower there was a tub, old-fashioned and copper. She lamented the lack of a shower, but realized in her present state a bath would perhaps be much more relaxing and needed. So she ran hot water. By the tub she found all her favorite body washes and scrubs, shampoo and conditioner, all her usual things. They weren't new, but slightly used. She wondered who had been using things that were exactly like hers. She looked around the room more. She spotted a mirror and vanity, upon which sat a display of makeup, all of her makeup- this was beginning to get a bit strange. Whoever had rescued her knew her too well and it began to creep her out a little.
Despite her misgivings, she was grateful, and very desperate to be feeling her normal self, so she stripped and bathed, feeling the warm water soak her skin and hair, feeling all her muscles relax, and she scrubbed thoroughly until she finally felt clean again. She stayed in the tub a good long while, giving herself a good long soak-she even fell asleep for a little while. She supposed she needed it after all she had been through.
When she awoke, she decided she'd had enough, and drained the tub, wrapped a towel around herself and sat down at the vanity, putting her makeup on. There was no hint of a hairdryer- but she didn't mind. Her hair had been so dirty she was happy to let it air-dry.
When she went to enter the bedroom again she found clothes on a chair by the door-and put them on. They were her exact size and style.
How? She wondered.
There was only one way she was going to get answers, so she steeled herself and left the bedroom.
A short trip down a hallway and she entered a main room. It was much the same as the bedroom, a smattering of knick-knacks and inventions, with child's drawings on the walls. There was a fire in the fireplace burning low, a cozy couch and old wooden rocker that looked like they might belong to her grandmother. She smiled a sad smile. Clara missed her. She and her grandmother had been very close. She smelled coffee and rashers and beans on toast...and her stomach rumbled. When was the last time she ate?
"Hello?" she called out. Nobody answered. Clara followed her nose and found the kitchen, where breakfast was still cooking. Whoever it was had just left. Not wanting to be unprepared, Clara took a small cutting knife from the block and stuck it up her sleeve. She'd be damned if she was going down without a fight-if she was wrong about whoever it was that seemed to know so much about her and what she'd want upon awakening. She finished cooking and put the food on serving plates, and made herself a plate and a cup of coffee. She smiled, inhaling the coffee's strong scent.
She found a table and ate. Before she knew it, she had devoured three whole plates of food. She had been starving, and she still had room to grab a piece of toast and jam and another cup of coffee and make her way into the living room. She sat on the couch-feeling like the rocker was forbidden for her to sit in, as it had an air of being someone's rocker. She had just taken a sip of coffee when she heard a thumping outside the door. Every muscle in her body tensed. She put her coffee down and grasped the knife she'd taken from the kitchen.
"Whoever that is," she called out. "I'm warning you. I'm armed."
She heard a soft chuckle.
"Alright, Clara," she heard a male voice call from the other side. "I'm not going to hurt you. I promise."
"How do I know that?" she demanded.
"If I was, wouldn't I have done it by now?"
Clara lowered her weapon slightly.
"Can I come in now? It's really very cold."
Clara mulled it over for a moment.
"Alright, but I'm warning you, no sudden movements."
"I wouldn't dare," the man said with a tone of amusement.
The door creaked open, slowly, and a man walked in with a flurry of snow. He was skinny, and tall, but looked much larger because he was wearing several layers and a thick scarf. He was carrying a small pile of chopped wood.
"Stop!" she called, trembling. "Slow. Shut the door and put the wood over there by the fire."
The man chuckled.
"Yes, ma'am," he said, doing as she requested. "Would you mind if I put them in? It's getting a bit chilly in here. You'll catch cold."
She pursed her lips. Clara didn't like what he was implying. But then, she was feeling the slight chill that had come in with him.
"Alright," she said, still tightly gripping her knife.
She watched as he carefully stacked the logs in the fire and stoked it. The fire roared and Clara felt it's warmth. She started to relax, but did not lower her weapon.
"Clara," his voice was muffled through his scarf. "Do you not trust me yet? I'm not going to hurt you. You're safe here. I promise. And there's a whole village outside that would hear if something happened to you. I promise, you're safe."
Somehow, she oddly believed him. She put down the knife.
"Thank you," he said softly. He began unwrapping his scarf.
"Are you going to explain who you are and where I am? And how do you know so much about me? What kind of snacks I like and bath stuff and clothes and even my clothes are something I'd wear…"
"Woah, Clara, slow down," he said, "Yes, I will explain. I realize things must be a bit confusing right now…"
"Just a bit," she whispered sarcastically. He chuckled and unwrapped the last layer of his scarf. And suddenly she recognized him and the knife was back in her hand.
"It's you! You're the Angel! You're the guy with the big chin and the stupid bow-tie! You're-you're-"
He looked very confused.
"Oi! Bowties are cool," he interrupted.
"You're the-the-you're the Doctor. But not my Doctor."
He looked slightly hurt.
"I'm always your Doctor, Clara, regardless of my face."
She softened.
"Why were you a statue? Why were you a Weeping Angel?"
"Oh, Clara," he said, sighing. "Is that what happened? A Weeping Angel sent you here? I was wondering...and he looked like me you said? How odd…"
"That's right so you best just stay back, or I'll-I'll-"
"I have no doubt you'll hurt me, Clara, but I promise you can trust me. Look like me as it may have, it still is not me. That I promise you. Weeping Angels can't become flesh and blood or vise-versa…"
She lowered her knife again.
"I do wish you'd put that back where you found it, I'd appreciate not dying of a heart attack at seventeen hundred, if you don't mind."
"Seventeen...hundred?" she said, and she dropped the knife. It impaled itself in the floor with a wooden thump. "Oh, Doctor…"
Suddenly she realized what she was dealing with, a much, much older Doctor, who'd been through so much more than she realized. She saw it now, on his face. It was young but careworn, and his eyes….so much older, and vigilant, and...sad.
"Doctor," she whispered.
"I haven't seen you in a very long time," he whispered. And she saw the trace of a tear in his eye as he looked at her, steady, unwavering. "I've missed you."
She saw it took quite a bit for him to admit that. She softened considerably.
"How long…?" she asked, trailing off. But he knew the question.
"Five hundred years," he whispered. "I thought I'd never see you again, after I dropped you off with your turkey."
"Turkey?"
"Oh, Clara, I'm sorry. I realize you're not even my Clara, you're Clara from a very long time ago...a different species, even. I don't know which Doctor you were traveling with…"
"Fourth," she gasped, eyes full of tears.
He nodded his head.
"And Doctor?" she moved closer. "I'm always your Clara."
The Doctor smiled at that, a real smile.
"Oh, I have missed you," he whispered.
She knew what he needed, somehow, instinctively, she threw herself into him, hugging him tightly. As he wrapped his long arms around her, she knew she was exactly what he had needed.
"I missed you," he said again after a while.
"You've said that," she said.
"So I have."
They broke apart.
"Doctor, you said you'd explain everything," she reminded him.
"I found you in the snow. You were out cold. I brought you here, to my home. Tucked you in. Tended your wounds. Tried to clean you up a bit. You did a much better job," he said, gesturing at her. His ears went a bit pink. "I didn't mean-I only meant-"
"I know," she giggled.
"I gave you my bed. Thought you'd be more comfortable."
"We're not on the TARDIS," she said, stating the obvious. "Do you live here? Why would you live somewhere that's not the TARDIS? Doctor, I don't understand-are you alone?"
He smiled sadly.
"There are a lot of things I can't explain, and a few things I can. I wish I could tell you everything, but it's still so early for you…you….Gallifrey...us….that was a whole other life. Things are different now. I understand things better than I used to. I understand you-all of you-a lot better than I used to."
"Doctor," she said, annoyed. "You're being pragmatic."
"Sorry," he said. "I'm an old man now, I'm entitled."
She tried to hold back her grin.
"I am, Clara, I'm so old...almost half my life I've been here…"
"Where's here?" she asked.
"It's...It's complicated. This town is called Christmas."
She giggled. "Christmas? What, like actually?"
He laughed.
"Yes, like, actually," he grinned. He stared at her smile for far too long.
"Why aren't I with you?" She asked
He sighed again.
"I can't lie, Clara. You should know that. Neither can you. There's a truth field around the whole town. But I've gotten used to it, and I know my way around that. I won't tell you why you're not with me. It's too big, too complicated...and it concerns your future. I wouldn't dare risk that, not here, not with what's at stake."
"What's at stake, Doctor?"
He sighed again.
"We're at War, Clara, the Long War, the War for the Question, and I must never, ever answer that question because I could tell nothing but the truth, and that truth is very dangerous."
"Why can't you just leave?"
"Oh, Clara, I wish I could explain. Please don't ask me. These people need me. I have to stay."
"Doesn't sound like you."
"Things change," he whispered. He touched a finger to her jaw. "Surely you, of all people, understand that. Understand me."
"Doctor...I don't… why are you speaking like this? I don't understand."
He sighed.
"Please, stop asking me questions. I won't-can't answer them. It's too dangerous for you to know. Please just accept it. Please trust me-like you've always done. I need my Clara, now more than ever. When you can't be here…"
He turned away, stared into the fire. There was a long moment of silence, and Clara was afraid to move. Finally, the Doctor sat down in the rocking chair. It creaked as he slowly rocked. She felt free to take up residence on the couch again, and picked back up her coffee.
"Where did you get all my stuff?" she asked after a while.
He smiled sadly.
"From the TARDIS. You left a bunch of things in your room. Enough for me to make you comfortable here."
"So you do have the TARDIS! Why don't you just fly away and-"
"Clara, please," he said, his voice very strained. "It's hard enough to resist the truth field and not blurt out the things I want to tell you, without you asking."
"I'm sorry," she whispered, mollified.
There was another long pause. Clara sipped her coffee. The Doctor seemed to become more relaxed as the silence went on, and he stared into the flames. She began to grow comfortable, and her fear was long gone. She again felt safe. And before long, safe and warm and in the presence of the Doctor, she drifted off to sleep.
Run, you clever boy, and remember me
A/N: please leave a review! I'm on a streak and would love to hear your feedback! It'll keep me going ^.^