AN: Yes, all of the present-day chapters are fluff about the various ships, and arguably the future chapters as well. No, this isn't the last time I'll be writing Thirteen and Future Clara. And finally, no, I'm not doing any Niver, I honestly could not give a fuck about Niver and don't want to put myself through that sort of suffering (Ten and Rose are bad enough.) So, yes, I'm aware of the lack of Nine. I don't care about the lack of Nine. There's plenty about the other characters.

DAY 139

Love and Friendship

Ravenwood

She had taken the day off. Dylan hadn't been all too happy about that, and thought she was skiving work because he'd managed to hear through Hollowmire's grape vine about her drunken escapades the previous night. Whether she had convinced him of the truth (that she needed to look after her sick girlfriend) or he had just gotten tired of arguing, she didn't know. But Dylan could think what he wanted, she didn't care. All she cared about was Jenny. That was why she had spent most of the day suffering in the living room with the curtains wide open, letting the sunlight she was so averse to flood into the room. She must look a sight, she thought, sulking there on the sofa, wearing all-black and tinted glasses with the dark hood of her dressing gown pulled up to protect her from the light, a mug full of warm blood held tightly between her hands. Jenny was lying down, half-curled up, her legs in Clara's lap with Clara's arms resting on those. She hadn't properly woken up yet, and it was getting late.

"She's okay," Esther Drummond assured her, catching her staring at Jenny's sleeping form again. Clara had been willing to outright beg for Esther to come over to keep her company, but it was lucky that Esther didn't need begging to be nice and help her friends. She was, she said, there more as a favour to Jenny than to Clara. Clara she was more annoyed with, because apparently she had been woken up at four in the morning by Sally Sparrow trying to cook toast over the electric hob in the kitchen and almost setting it on fire. Then she had tried to convince Esther to wait on her hand and foot because she was too hungover to do anything for herself. And then (as Esther told it), when Sally kept texting her from the attic asking if she would kindly make some soup, Esther had replied saying of course she would make soup. And then she had put on her coat and shoes and left, coming to Clara's and keeping her phone on airplane mode.

"I know," Clara said, "I can hear her hearts. I just worry. I'm also kind of worried that this thing might jump to me; my DNA is closer to hers than to yours now. Well, probably not yours, your genetics must be all over the place-"

"Accurate."

"-but humans in general. The rest of them. The living." Martha kept asking Clara for hourly updates on Jenny's sickly condition, trying to find out whether she was properly awake yet. Martha was texting her, then Sally had started texting her when she figured out Esther wasn't in the house, but Clara was under strict instructions not reply to Sally Sparrow.

"Do you mind people asking you about being a vampire?" Esther said suddenly, pausing the video game she was playing. That was part of the arrangement, Clara letting Esther play video games on her fancy laptop (which Clara suspected was a souvenir from the future) emulated through the television. She didn't mind, she had been reading for most of the day. Clara was taken aback by her question, though.

"Uh, I don't think so. Nobody ever does, though," Clara shrugged, "Why? Is there something you want to know? You're not going to ask me to bite you, are you? I'm pretty sure Sally asked me to do that a fair few times last night while she was drunk. Not that I did."

"You couldn't bite me, you'd get electrocuted," Esther pointed out.

"I wouldn't bite you even if I could."

"So you don't have crazy bloodlust?"

"No, obviously not, otherwise Sally and everyone else in The Mermaid last night would probably dead. And if I killed one of them, I'd have all of the Followers of Oc'thubha after me," Clara said, "And you, no doubt. It's like… you know those really unhealthy food trucks? Why am I even asking, of course you know about unhealthy food trucks, you're American… well it's a bit like walking past one of those when you haven't eaten all day. But it's not like you're gonna murder the guy in the truck and steal all his burgers. I'm not an animal. Just a different species."

"I'm starving now that you mentioned those food trucks, god, I miss them," she sighed.

"Why would you miss them? We have plenty of them here," Clara said, "You just have to find them. Hang about at retail parks, or something. Actually, that reminds me, I keep meaning to go out somewhere and buy new crockery…" When she said that, Esther spared a glance at the mug Clara was holding, which looked like a skull with the top sliced off.

"You know people actually used to drink out of real skulls?" Esther said, "Which I always thought was strange, because, wouldn't the mead or ale or whatever just pour out of the eye sockets?" Clara lifted the mug she was holding to look at it, then shrugged and took another sip of blood.

Then Jenny coughed and Clara's attentions were instantly consumed by her, and she hastened to put her mug down on the coffee table in front of her where Esther's computer was.

"Jenny? Are you awake?" Clara asked. Esther had paused her game to see. Lo and behold, Jenny Harkness opened her eyes, finally. She had been asleep for hours. In her illness, she looked about as dead as Clara, who knew (now that she had means by which to see her reflection) she was pale and haggard and sullen. She had the complexion of a recently dead corpse. She was a recently dead corpse.

"I'm dying," Jenny croaked, her eyes finding Clara. She seemed like she believed it, too.

"You're not dying. You've got flu. Although I don't much fancy your chances if you don't have something to eat soon," Clara told her.

"I feel like I'm going to die. I can see the light."

"You can see the sun because I have the curtains open. You're not going to die, Jen. Listen to me. You know the Anobine Cartax? And the infection you were telling me about yesterday? You caught it, except it reacts differently with Time Lords. It mimics influenza. Martha ran simulations, you'll be fine," Clara said, "Now, you're gonna sit up and stop wallowing, and I'll go make you a Lemsip." Clara lifted Jenny's legs and stood up, heading towards the kitchen, but her hand was grabbed on the way past.

"I want your face to be the last face I see," Jenny said, looking into Clara's eyes hopelessly. Clara frowned and then glanced over at Esther and rolled her eyes very exaggeratedly.

"Well if you try not to look at Esther then it will be," Clara said, pulling her hand free.

"Shall I make some soup? You have soup, right?" Esther asked Clara, and only then did Jenny realise that they weren't alone. Then she groaned and curled up, rolling onto her side.

"…Soup would be wonderful, thanks so much, I'm sure I have some somewhere," Clara answered when Jenny wouldn't. Esther got up and left the room and Clara turned back to Jenny. "Do you want me to bring another blanket up from downstairs?"

"A blanket won't delay the inevitable," she mumbled. Wow, the others on the crew had been right; the Time Lords were being melodramatic. Clara wished Jenny would go back to sleep. She shook her head and left. It didn't matter how much Jenny moped, she was going to be fine.

"Oh my god," Clara whispered to Esther when she went into the kitchen, "Do you hear that? It's like dating Emily Brontë." Esther laughed.

"Like you'd pass up the opportunity to date Emily Brontë," Esther said, rifling through Clara's cupboards looking for canned soup. It was a good thing that Jenny, despite being a master chef, had the lowest standards of anybody Clara had ever met when it came to food. She would eat anything.

"I hate that you're right…" she grumbled, "Emily was definitely the hot one. Charlotte was too uptight, and Anne was too religious. Don't get me started on Branwell."

"What? You've met them?"

"I wish. I did used to have a certain degree of an involvement with Jane Austen, though, on more of an… à la carte basis." Clara dug out a box of Lemsip sachets she had in one of the cupboards, which happened to be the same cupboard as the elusive soup. She took out a can of chicken soup and held it out to Esther, but Esther was looking at her funny. "What?"

"What do you mean 'involvement' with Jane Austen?" she asked quietly.

"Exactly what you think I mean."

"Wait, you slept with her? I know she was a good writer but she lived before the commercialisation of toothpaste," Esther pointed out. "People didn't have proper toothpaste until after 1900 – they used to make it out of charcoal."

"Why do you just know that?" Esther shrugged. "And, well, she…" Clara scowled, then brandished the soup can at Esther, "You know what? Yes, I did, and I'd sleep with her again in a heartbeat, toothpaste or no." Esther took the can finally. "I mean, hypothetically, I would. If I didn't have Jenny. I would never do anything to jeopardise my relationship with her, she's my sun."

"She's your sun?" Esther found that funny.

"Yes, she is, Little Miss Relationships-Are-Icky, I love her more than anything in the world," Clara said, "That's why I'm making her a Lemsip and going downstairs to get more blankets. Now, do you want a coffee?"

Some ten minutes later they returned to the living room bearing gifts, and Clara was surprised to see that Jenny actually had managed to sit up, though she'd stolen the cushion Clara had been leaning on.

"You've got chicken soup, Lemsip, and another blanket," Clara said, passing her the bowl and putting the mug of lemon-flavoured flu remedy on the floor next to her. At least she was still awake, too.

"Aren't you supposed to be at work?" she asked hoarsely.

"I took the day off for you," Clara said, "Now have your soup Esther made so lovingly."

"I wouldn't say it was loving, it's canned soup that's been in the microwave," Esther explained.

"I'll make it up to you," Jenny croaked, turning to look at Esther, "I'll make you a sandwich. But it'll be the best sandwich you've ever tasted."

"Sandwiches are my favourite food," Esther said seriously, "Along with milkshakes."

"Then I'll do milkshakes as well," Jenny said. She was practically whispering. At least she wasn't talking about how she was going to die anymore (it was annoying.) "I want a milkshake right now…"

"I'm going to McDonald's in a bit, you can have one then," Clara told her, sitting back down on the edge of the sofa, "And I'll nip to the supermarket and get you some throat soothers, too, you sound dreadful. The Lemsip will help with that."

"I'm dying, Clara." Clearly she had spoken too soon.

"Soup, Jen. Steaming hot soup." Jenny huddled up on one side of the sofa, covered in blankets, blowing on a spoon full of beige soup. It was the kind that was so cheap it didn't actually have bits of chicken in it.

"Why is Esther waiting on me?"

"It's all part of a cunning ploy she has to trick you into making her sandwiches," Clara said.

"I'm hiding from Sally," Esther answered for herself, "The woman had the nerve to try and get me to make soup for her earlier."

"But… you just made me soup," Jenny pointed out.

"Well, yeah, I know, but you're actually ill. She's not ill, she just drank too much, and that's her own fault. And your girlfriend's fault."

"Say it to my face," Clara muttered.

"It's your fault," Esther said (to her face) flatly. Clara grumpily crossed her arms.

"Didn't anybody ever teach you it's rude to point fingers?" she retorted, and Esther just sighed.

"Is my dad sick?" Jenny asked as though she had only just realised the Doctor had been exposed to the infection yesterday, too.

"Yes. All of them are, all the Time Lords, it's that contagious, apparently. He'll be fine," Clara assured her, "Martha's keeping an eye on them all." Jenny nodded and slurped her hot soup. Outside it was starting to get dark. The sky was red and the sun, though she couldn't look at it for more than short lengths of time, was setting beneath the horizon. Clara still had her sun-glasses on their maximum setting and her dressing gown hood up. She probably looked like a druid. Jenny had put her legs back across Clara's lap, and Clara nudged her and she met her eyes.

"What?" she asked, and Clara was taken aback for a second by how gorgeous she looked in the sunlight, in spite of her dire illness. "Clara? Why are you staring at me?" She hadn't realised she'd been staring.

"Esther thinks it's gross that we're in love."

"I did not say that," Esther argued.

"You basically did."

"You said she was 'your sun' and I thought that was weird."

"Homophobe."

"Okay, first of all, that's really cute and I appreciate you saying I'm your sun. Second of all, you can't keep saying everything is homophobic. You know," Jenny turned to talk to Esther, apparently not caring at all for Esther Drummond's blatant intolerance, "the other morning she ran out of perfume and said that Dior were homophobic."

"I'm gay, I was slightly inconvenienced, therefore it's homophobic," Clara shrugged, "I didn't smell pretty for an entire day. An entire day, Esther. I won't stand for it." Jenny ignored her and reached down to pick up the mug of Lemsip from the floor, slurping that just as loudly as the soup. Was that one of her flaws? She slurped? Was it bad of Clara to constantly be trying to pick faults with her girlfriend? It was only because she didn't have any to begin with. Apart from rather lacking self-preservation instincts. Regardless, Jenny changed the subject and went to pay more attention to Esther.

"Are you playing games?"

"Yeah, it's a PlayStation 3 port I'm emulating through the laptop onto the TV," Esther answered (Clara didn't know what that meant, but Jenny appeared to.)

"What game?"

Only now did Clara actually look at what Esther had been up to on the television for the last few hours. It generally consisted of a lot of climbing up buildings and shooting people with bright blue light.

"InFamous," Esther said.

"What's it about?"

"This guy who accidentally uses this device that blows a crater in this city and sucks 'bio-energy' out of all the nearby people, and then he absorbs it and becomes a 'Conduit' and gets superpowers. Electrical superpowers."

"You mean like you?" Clara asked, looking at the TV, watching the character create what looked like a forcefield out of electricity.

"Uh-huh. Watch this," she said, and then a huge bolt lightning was summoned forth from the in-game sky above, destroying a whole platoon of enemies and making half a dozen cars explode.

"Can you do that?" Jenny, awestruck, asked.

"I did it when I got brought back to life, but I've never tried since. Seems dangerous," she said, "I don't really do a lot. Real me, I mean. Not in the video game."

"You should try it," Jenny said.

"And you should try not talking," Clara advised her, and then she clapped her hands together and got up, "Right, I'm going to buy fast food and hope vampires can't have heart attacks. Or worse, acne breakouts. Who wants what?"

"I'll have-" Jenny began.

"No, you're having milkshake, that's it, you've already been sick earlier. Just have your soup, Jen," Clara said, and she seemed disappointed. Clara thought just the milkshake was risky, though – dairy wasn't really the best thing to have for a bad stomach. Clara added to Esther, "And yes, I'm paying for yours too, it's only fair after how much help you've been all day."

"Well then I'll just have chicken nuggets, if you're offering. And a milkshake. Are you sure you don't want me to give you some money?"

"Yeah, it's fine, don't worry about it," Clara assured her, going to find her shoes.

"Aren't you going to get changed out of pyjamas?" Jenny asked.

"No, it's a drive through, it's fine," Clara said, picking up her keys from by the door, "I'll be back in about twenty minutes. And you're not getting a milkshake until you finish your Lemsip."

"Fine, Clara. I love you."

"I love you, too. And you, Esther, obviously. I daresay you're my sun," she added, smiling. Esther, distracted by her game, gave her a thumbs up, and Clara disappeared out of the door to fetch dinner.