Marks of the World

Clara

Upon returning to the TARDIS, Clara had immediately had a shower to wash away all the blood and filth from her body and hair. Now she stood, woozy, her head still spinning, folding fresh laundry to put away. The Doctor was still a little out of sorts after his ailment but she thought tomorrow he might be back to his old self. She didn't like having to do their washing that day, but she didn't mind. Mostly because he promised to do the majority of the chores for the next few days as a thank you for her looking after him while he'd been ill. At present, though, he was back on the phone to his daughter, in another room somewhere. She would like him to get back soon so that he would return her mobile, but supposed it wasn't a priority. After all, who was going to text her? Her Aunt Fiona, still pestering her about her life choices and about that garden party they were still trying to make her go to? Her father wanting to talk to her about the exact same thing? She could avoid both of them.

Rani may have finally forgiven them all now that they had finally come and cleaned up their mess. The Manifests were cured, or in the process of being cured, the HCC was defunct and useless, and Klein had been passed over to Undercoll – which was apparently still around in 2029. But they hadn't stuck around for long. She enjoyed seeing Esther, though, she always liked seeing Esther. Everyone did. How could anyone really dislike Esther Drummond? It was her housemate who wasn't everybody's cup of tea (though she was definitely Clara's cup of tea.) Apparently, though, Clara had some sort of issue when it came to borderline-sensual and completely accidental encounters with other women. First Thirteen, now Jane Austen; it was a good thing Sally Sparrow wasn't into her. God knew what would happen. And this Jane Austen thing was a mystery unto itself – how did they know each other? Had they been dating? Was this in Clara's future? Had her memory been wiped? Or, most likely, had Ravenwood been up to no good?

"Clara?" Someone interrupted her thoughts and she downright jumped out of her skin, dropping the skirt she had been holding back into the basket of unfolded clothes. It was Rose.

"Stay over there," Clara ordered frantically. Rose had obviously teleported straight into the room behind her, and she backed away, knocked into the sofa, tripped, and fell over the back of it. She didn't even try to save herself with telekinesis. She was sick of superpowers for the day.

"I'm not going to try and kill you! What are you doing!?" Rose exclaimed, seeing Clara scramble away behind one of her own sofas and push herself against the bookshelf at the back of the room. Rose stayed there, just in front of the raised level the queen sized bed was sitting on.

"Sorry if I'm just a bit nervous about the fact you've spent half the day trying to crush my head," Clara snapped, holding up her hand to try and make Rose stay where she was - away. She would use her telekinesis if she had to. Maybe. It was being a bit temperamental, hadn't been working properly since they'd got back from the Valiant. No doubt she had overused it.

"I did text you to ask if I could speak to you," Rose said. Oh. So that was who might try to get in contact with her. Not just her Aunt Fiona.

"Right. Sorry. The Doctor has my phone, he's speaking to Jenny," Clara explained, relaxing a little. It was just Rose showing up like that, out of nowhere, that unnerved her. Freaked her out. She hoped it didn't last for too long, her being a little frightened of Rose might do to her on a whim. "What do you want?"

"What are you up to?"

"Just… folding laundry… got told off for never putting the clean clothes away a while ago…" she said awkwardly. "Seriously though, what do you want? I thought you hated me? Even though – you know – I'd just like to point out I've never actually done anything to you, or said anything against you."

"Yeah. I know. Why didn't you kill me?"

"What? Why on Earth would I kill you, Rose?" Clara, shocked, asked.

"Well I was trying to kill you. You barely even defended yourself, didn't hurt me at all."

"I didn't want to! I don't want to hurt anyone," Clara said, "I don't know what you have against me – though I suppose it's the same thing everyone else who's ever hated me has, which usually seems to be my personality in general – but I don't have anything against you. Why would I?"

"Because I'm sort of awful to you?" What was this, just Rose feeling guilty about what Project Crystal had made her do? It wasn't so bad, not really. Clara had only ended up with a mildly fractured skull, a mauled ankle and a minor brain haemorrhage.

"I mean, I don't really…" she trailed off, and then shrugged, "I guess you're entitled to have whatever opinion of me you like."

"Jenny was right about you," Rose said, more to herself than to Clara. Clara frowned.

"Why was Jenny talking about me…? With you…? Hold on – what did she say?" Clara was desperate to know what her own girlfriend thought about her. Um. Sort of girlfriend. Sort of, also, stepdaughter. What she meant was, she and Ravenwood were identical, so whatever Jenny thought about Ravenwood she probably also thought about Clara.

"Oh – nothing bad. She said you have a 'heart of gold.' In so many words," Rose said, then proceeded to admit, "I asked her what she saw in you."

"Okay. So you've come to tell me I'm – what? Not as bad as everyone thinks? Thanks. I'm thrilled that my existence finally has your approval, Rose, I really do feel fulfilled in life all of a sudden now that I know you don't think I'm quite as much of the damn antichrist as you seemed to think I was yesterday," she said resentfully. She wasn't in the mood for this, not that day. She wanted a cigarette, badly. But her husband had made her promise not to smoke in their bedroom anymore. "Finally," she continued, going back to the laundry so that she had something to do with her hands, "Finally you've decided I don't quite deserve to be murdered."

"I came to say sorry!"

"You don't need to say sorry! You don't need to come here and insult me by saying you've decided to put up with me without complaining – god, Rose, we've only been living together for four months. Nearly five!" she exclaimed.

"I know you're in a bad mood because of what Oswin's done-" Rose began. Clara stopped what she was doing, dropping a pair of socks now into the plastic basket. Rose abruptly silenced when she realised Clara didn't know what she was talking about.

"What?" she asked, gritted teeth, clenched jaw.

"Uh…"

"What, pray tell, has Oswin done? And how would you know about it and not me?" Clara asked coldly, crossing her arms now, trying to tap into her sister's emotions while Rose spoke.

"The time vortex tells me things," Rose explained, "I don't choose what I know. Do you know how many secrets of yours I'm having to keep?" She said that like it was a burden on her, and Clara was affronted.

"Secrets of mine? Like what?" Clara questioned.

"Things you don't want your husband to know."

"There isn't anything I don't want him to-"

"I know about you and Thirteen," Rose said, and Clara stopped.

"There is no 'me and Thirteen.' There never was. And there won't be for god knows how long," Clara said stiffly. "What's your game? Are you trying to blackmail me with that? I'm sorry it's so hard for you to not stick your nose in other peoples' business. Do you want something from me in exchange for not telling him?"

"I'm not trying to blackmail you! You're making this really hard," Rose said pointedly.

"Making what really hard?"

"What you said, earlier – I'm sorry," Rose told her, looking like she had said something incredibly meaningful and inspiring. Clara was just confused. And annoyed. And worried, about Oswin. Still a little unnerved by Rose being around her in general. Rose could tell Clara didn't know what she was talking about. "Your mother, I mean." Clara went cold.

"What about my mother? You're apologising to me for something that happened eight years ago? Something you don't have anything to do with?"

"But I do have something to do with it, and you know I do, and the time vortex showed me today, and I'm sorry," Rose said. Clara could see what she was trying to do. "She died in March, didn't she?"

"…Yes."

"Don't you still have nightmares?"

"I don't want to talk about it," Clara said angrily, marching around the sofa to go towards the exit of the room, but Rose stood in front of her. "And certainly not with you, if I was going to talk about it with anyone. Just because you 'know things' about people doesn't mean you have to go bringing them up when you have no right to, okay? It is nothing to do with you."

"Of course it is! If I'd been faster-"

"So many people were saved last night by you and the Doctor stopping the Nestene Consciousness," Clara said, "Ellie Oswald wasn't one of them, and that's my fault, not yours. It's all on me."

"What? How could what the Autons did be on you?" Rose questioned. Again, Clara tried to walk past her, but Rose grabbed her by her left wrist, the bandaged up one with the recent electrical burn on it, her entire arm still in wrappings.

"She didn't want to go anywhere that night but I made her, and now she's dead," Clara said, "That's why it's my fault, because I wanted to go shopping, because I took us into the department store where one of those fucking things shot her. I might as well have shot her myself, because it's all my fault, because I was selfish. Not yours, and not the Doctor's, mine."

"It was the fault of the Nestene Consciousness who wanted to invade!" Rose told her. Clara just made a noise of anguish and phased through Rose, who turned to follow her, "You and her are exactly alike. She's harbouring all these injuries so that she can keep blaming herself for something that's not her fault, and so are you. Both you and Oswin have things you need to work out."

"What, with you!? You're some counsellor now are you, Rose? Some fucking guru!? You want me to bask in the wisdom of the time vortex as you stand there and you pity me – pity both of us – and act like you know everything about my life because some divine, universal fucking entity 'told you' how my mother died? Well hooray for you for achieving enlightenment! Now I have to go and talk to my sister and if I see you when I get back, maybe I won't be so restrained as I was earlier when you threw me off a skyscraper into hordes of oncoming Daleks," Clara said. It was a sliding door, the door into her bedroom, but she forced it to slam telekinetically for effect, probably infuriating the TARDIS. So much for trying not to use her powers.

"You have to stop blaming yourself," Rose said, appearing in the Bedroom Circle next to her as she headed across the hall to go straight to Adam and Oswin's rooms.

"Oh my stars – won't you piss off!?" she shouted, "Congratu-fucking-lations, Rose, you figured out that Oswin and I are the same person! You've figured out that Oswin's not very well, and that you don't think I am, either! It happened eight years ago, why do you think a five minute conversation with you and the time vortex is going to change anything!?"

"Because-"

"Because nothing! I told you I don't want to talk about this! You are not god, Rose, you were not given these magical abilities for a 'reason.' You vandalised the TARDIS the first time, and the second time it's because you were drugged. And all this time I'm the one who's 'up myself'!?" As Clara shouted at Rose, confused people wanting to know what all the commotion was about were sticking their heads out of their doors. "You really don't have to apologise for trying to kill me, or for ridiculing me, just leave me alone!" She waved her hand and sent a wave of telekinetic energy in Rose's direction, and Rose was thrown backwards. Clara didn't have the patience to listen to Rose for a single second longer, so she phased right through the door into Oswin's room.

She walked right in on them sitting at their island in the kitchen, both staring at the door in shock. No doubt they had heard the shouting, which had mostly been Clara shouting, admittedly.

"Honey, did you honestly just yell 'congratu-fucking-lations' at Rose Tyler?" Oswin questioned. She nearly looked impressed. Adam Mitchell just looked highly concerned with the whole situation. He had a bulky device strapped onto his ankle and half of his foot. Oswin must have made good on her promise to get him a fancy brace for his sprain from Flek, and good timing, too, after he had damaged it even further that day.

"She came to tell me her amazing wisdom that I have to move on from my mother's death, because of course she has every right to talk about that, doesn't she? As if she's bestowing some dawning realisation onto me – god, she's incorrigible…" Clara mumbled. Then she met Oswin's eyes. "She came to tell me tales about you. What have you done? She made out like it would upset me." Oswin faltered when she spoke, but was interrupted by her boyfriend.

"You know, I just realised that I, uh, really have to go and, um… speak to… Esther about… Echoes and… 2029…" he said awkwardly. He just wanted an excuse to leave, and until he did neither Oswin nor Clara spoke (aside from when Oswin made a passing quip where she told Adam to 'have fun two-timing her with Esther Drummond,' and he said he would, which Clara thought was weird.)

"Well?" Clara prompted her baby sister when the door slid closed behind Adam, who was finding walking a whole lot easier than he had been doing a few hours ago.

"Well nothing, Clara. You're going to shout at me. I don't want you to. I might as well just leave too."

"Why would I shout at you?"

"I know exactly what's going to happen – you'll try and lecture me, just like Flek did, just like Mitchell's been doing, and then it won't work so you'll yell, and I'll yell too and tell you you're being a hypocrite. Then eventually you'll accept that you are a hypocrite and I'm just as stubborn as you are when it comes to that burn on your arm and you'll storm out of here, like you just stormed out of your own room, and we won't speak for days," Oswin told her assuredly. "Maybe you ought to just storm out right now and save yourself the trouble. You're already in a bad mood." Clara didn't say a word. She just crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes. Oswin was obviously uncomfortable, and she was frightened. Frightened of Clara's wrath. Perhaps that was why Clara had not been told of this 'thing' she had done yet, while Adam and Flek both had.

"Then I won't shout at you," Clara said after taking a deep breath, "I just want to talk to you about why you're upset."

"I'd rather us not fall out two days before your birthday."

"I'm not angry at you, I'm angry at Rose for swanning into my room and pretending like I want to hear what she has to say," Clara explained, going to sit next to Oswin in the chair Adam had just left without pushing it under. She knocked something to the floor when she did, though. It clattered, and she glanced down to see what it was.

"No, don't – leave it, Clara, it's not-"

"Why have you got a cane, Oswin?" Clara asked her, picking it up. It was no wooden stick, either, it was a real fancy sort of device. Oswin's handiwork, she could tell. Had the same white, sleek aesthetics as everything else Oswin had built lately. Oswin went to snatch it off her, and was surprised when Clara let her have it and didn't put up a fight. Clara finally sat down. "I'm sorry we haven't talked much since everything that happened with Kent…"

"It's fine. He's cured now. He can't hurt anyone anymore," Oswin said, not looking at her.

"But something's the matter and I haven't noticed because I've been too focused on myself these last few weeks, ever since Thirteen left," Clara said. Oswin sighed. "Will you talk to me? I promise I won't get angry or shout at you."

"It's nothing, Clara." Clara didn't say a word, she just watched Oswin and waited. She thought Oswin would have to tell her eventually what was going on. "I… have these… scars. On my leg."

"Your right leg?" Oswin nodded. "I've never seen scars on your leg before."

"You didn't have scars on your arm two weeks ago," Oswin pointed out, nodding at Clara's bandages again. Then Oswin crossed her own arms and slouched down on them on the tabletop. "Rose is right. We're more similar than we realise sometimes. Flek wouldn't let the Spores amputate both of my legs four years ago. They managed to save the other. But 'save' is putting it loosely, there weren't very good medical supplies on Horizon at the time, not for things like skin grafts and bone reconstruction."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that the bomb didn't just take my left leg clean off without leaving a single mark on the rest of me, that's impossible. It nearly took both of them. The other one… they sort of… scrambled to 'put it back together.' It's not pleasant to look at, you don't want to see it," Oswin explained. "I just didn't like pretending I don't have these injuries and I don't understand why everybody is making such a big deal out of it. Jenny said herself, the day we caught Kent – scars are like wrinkles. They show experience. If Jenny were here she'd understand…"

"I think the issue is that you're making it hard for you to walk and get around," Clara said softly.

"I already did that when I blew myself up. People shouldn't be able to just erase those sorts of decisions, or mistakes. Don't you think it's wrong for us to have the power to do that?" Oswin asked.

"…I don't know. I'd have died a long time ago if we didn't, if there were no nanogenes or Miracle Medicine," Clara said.

"You have a purpose. You have Echoes to look after. What do I have? I don't have anything. No reason for me to be given an afterlife when so many other people aren't," Oswin complained.

"Maybe you just have to find your purpose? There must be something you can do with that brain of yours, Os. You could do so much good in the world if you put your mind to it," Clara said, "And if not… maybe your purpose is to show me I have to protect my Echoes."

"You have your burn to do that now. I don't need to be here."

"Well I want you here, mangled leg or no," Clara told her, "I'm sorry I've been off for a while, what with Thirteen and Kent and having to try and help my husband get along with his daughter again. But if you're going through some stuff then you're back to being my number one priority, like you always are. And always should be."

"Why should I be?" Oswin asked, sitting up from where she had been slouching.

"Well, why shouldn't you? I made you, and I should be doing everything in my power to make sure you're alright," Clara said, and then Oswin proceeded to fling her arms around Clara in a hug.

"Are you proud of me?" she asked, sounding harrowed, like she was scared of the answer to this question. Clara hugged her back.

"Of course I am, I couldn't be more proud of my favourite daughter," Clara told her truthfully, feeling guilty deep down for so blatantly picking favourites out of her Echoes. As long as Oswin felt better, though. "So – you saw Flek today? Is that what you said earlier?" Oswin relinquished her.

"Yeah. I went to Eslilia. She told me off for giving myself my shrapnel wounds back, and her fiancée slapped me," Oswin said.

"Claressa slapped you!?"

"She hates being called Claressa."

"I'll call her what I like. Why did she slap you?"

"Because I… tested this invention-thing on her. I can't tell you about it. It's classified, top-secret."

"Hmm…"

"To do with your birthday."

"You don't need to get me a birthday present, sweetheart," Clara said, smiling.

"Well it's too late now. Don't ask me any questions about it. And I went to talk to her about something else, but I didn't get the chance because Eyeball was making me leave, then there was all that stuff with you lot – you know I felt it when Rose hit you? And so did Eyeball, but not as bad."

"Did you? God, I should make her apologise," Clara said, "She can hurt me all she wants, but she better not touch any of you." She meant the Echoes. "What did you want to speak to Flek about?"

"Just this thing… because I wasn't talking to her after Squidzilla, and you were busy with other things, and then I've fallen out with Fyn as well, and I didn't want Adam to be upset, so I-"

"What is it?" Clara entreated, "Why have you fallen out with Fyn?"

"Because of why he's doing this whole move to Venus thing in the first place."

"I thought he wanted to get away from Horizon…? That's what you said…"

"It's… partly that. And also… our dad…"

"Didn't he die when you were two?"

"And I died when I was twenty-five, but I'm still here," Oswin said dryly. Clara took a few seconds to figure out what that meant, but when she did, her eyes widened.

"Os-!? Your dad – he's a hologram?" she exclaimed. Oswin didn't seem happy about that, though, "What's wrong? Isn't that good news? I thought you always liked your father – wasn't he a scientist and a writer? A genius?"

"Exactly," she said sulkily, crossing her arms, "He never did anything to hurt anybody else, he still wrote my mother love letters she hid years after she told us all he was dead, he always used his intellect for good. If it wasn't for his forcefields, the Dust Cloud would have destroyed Horizon long before I could call the Cluster Spores down."

"So why don't you want to see him?"

"Because he'll hate me."

"He'll think you're wonderful, just like I do," Clara assured her, "He'll love to see his little girl all grown up."

"His dead, insane, mass-murdering 'little girl' with one leg who's never used her brains for anything good?" Oswin questioned. Clara sighed and merely watched Oswin for a few seconds, Oswin who was pouting and looking the other way.

"Oh my god!" she exclaimed suddenly. Oswin looked around, alarmed.

"What!?"

"Stay right there, don't move," Clara ordered, leaning in, squinting, "Have you ever noticed that we kind of look alike?" A smile broke on Oswin's face. "Now, are you done moping for the day, Os? Because I think that you and I should watch TV. Or films, or something. Ooh, or we could play Guitar Hero."

"Oh, god, no. I'm not playing Guitar Hero with you."

"Only because I always win."

"Well maybe if I had as much practice fingering any girl who pays attention to me for more than thirty seconds, I'd win at Guitar Hero as well," Oswin said, and Clara laughed. "…I'll watch TV. But I'm not watching anything about weddings; I'm sick of hearing you go on about yours."

"Deal."