-Wedding Crashers-

Dr Strangelove

Clara was exhausted. She had been assailed by a very angry waitress and then assailed by her inability to refuse to do karaoke for every ABBA song Rose had thrown onto the set-list (which she had been fighting over with Amy and Jack.) It was a very sore throat and hair still covered in wine that she stepped out of the reception room to have a much-needed cigarette. She went and hid out of sight of the windows so that people wouldn't give her an earful about her bad habits and pulled out her Marlboros and a disposable lighter – which was running low.

It was running very low, as it turned out, because she couldn't get it to spark.

"For Christ's sake…" she cursed to herself as she tried to strike it.

"Need a light?"

Clara jumped out of her skin when somebody came up behind her. Turning to face them she was stunned to silence and her cigarette fell right out of her mouth and onto the damp grass at her feet. Standing there like a ghost was the Thirteenth – or rather, the Twelfth – Doctor, holding out that familiar, silver lighter that supposedly belonged to Clara at some point in her future. Her twenty-fifth wedding anniversary present.

"You're not real," she said, "This is some sort of trick, isn't it? Oh my god – am I still in the Dream? Am I still trapped?"

"What? No, calm down," said the Doctor, "I'm real, I swear."

"Then – then why are you here!?" she hissed, "You can't be here! What are you playing at!?"

"I've got a message," she said, "I'm here all of my own volition, don't worry. No pesky time shenanigans today."

"A message?"

"Mm, but I can't deliver it yet. It's gonna be a few minutes," she said, holding the lighter out. Clara reached out gingerly to take it, half expecting her hand to slide straight through the Doctor like she was a spectre. The lighter (and the woman) was solid though, and as she pulled a second cigarette from her packet it lit like a charm. The smoke was a relief. She returned the lighter, brushing her thumb across the Gallifreyan inscriptions. The Doctor put it in her bag. She didn't have any pockets; she was all dressed up.

"I've never seen you in a dress," Clara said.

"It's a special occasion. It's not my dress, anyway; it's yours, I'm only borrowing it. So!" she clapped her hands, "Are you enjoying the wedding? Feeling the love? Did you, uh," she reached over and touched Clara's hair, "Enjoy getting wine poured on your head?"

"Oh, yeah, that was brilliant," said Clara, pushing her hand away.

"You have such a way with women."

"What can I say? I'm a savant." The Doctor laughed. "Look, are you sure you should be here? What if someone sees you? Someone else."

"I doubt that, I've been here all day," she said, "All night, even. We've been camping."

"Who's 'we'?"

"You and me," she said.

"In December? It's bloody cold."

"I'm never that cold with you around."

Clara took another drag on her cigarette, "You've travelled back in time to flirt with me, then?"

"That's not my intention, but I can never resist. Word to the wise, though," she lowered her voice, "Don't try any funny business or my wife will have your head. She's hiding in the woods with a pair of binoculars."

"Why can you cross into your own timeline, but she can't?" Clara challenged.

"She just doesn't," she shrugged, "Only me tonight. It's written in the stars. Besides, if she was here we'd have four of you running around, it would be chaos."

"Sounds like a fantasy of yours. How does it feel, then? Now it's you who's got two spouses hanging around at once."

"Exhilarating," she said wryly. "I can barely contain myself. How long has it been, by the way? Since I left. I'm foggy on the details."

"About a month. A bit more. I'd just gotten over you and then you come swanning back into my life – you're like a bad penny."

"I haven't gone anywhere, Coo," she became quite serious, "I'm in there right now, eating as much cake as possible if I remember correctly. He and I, we have continuity." Clara was about to ask for an explanation for her sombreness when the Doctor shushed her and paused like she was listening out for something. She smiled. "D'you hear that?" Clara strained her ears. "It's Vera Lynn."

"Oh, you haven't…"

Clara could just about make out the muffled words coming from inside the building, "We'll meet again… don't know where… don't know when…"

"May I have this dance?" the Doctor held out her hand. Clara didn't have it in her to say no and stamped out her cigarette stub as Thirteen pulled her over by the waist.

"Didn't you spend most of your time here avoiding me at all costs?" Clara asked as they swayed to the music.

"Keep smiling through… just like you… always do…" Vera Lynn crooned, the Doctor humming along a little.

"Things were different. I'd been away from you – future-you – for a lot longer." The Doctor neglected to mention, or really even hint at, the fact she and Clara had been on the brink of separation when she had unwillingly taken her sabbatical to the past. Barely able to talk to each other without it becoming a fight, barely able to look at one another… but they'd been living in Brighton for over a year now, getting better every day.

"This is unfathomably cruel, you know." The Doctor laughed.

"Do you really think so?"

"You come here, you somehow manage to play that song-"

"Manipulating the playlist wasn't too hard."

"-and you ask me to dance with you," Clara resumed, "I wish I had the willpower not to put my arms around you when you ask."

"One day, you'll appreciate my song choice," said the Doctor, who'd spent her day following a Geiger counter and trying to defuse a nuke. "And then you'll hate me and say I'm too on-the-nose. But then, I always am."

"They'll be happy to know… that as you saw me go… I was singing this song…" went the music, then the backing chorus joined again.

"Don't think about me too much when I leave," said the Doctor abruptly. She was being very serious all of a sudden.

"What?"

"I said, don't think about me. Don't obsess, or daydream, or fantasise." Clara was silent. "You can't have both of us at the same time – believe me, I wish I could kiss you right now without you having an emotional crisis… What I mean is, one day, he'll be gone. He'll be gone forever. So don't waste the time you have with him dreaming about me, because those lost seconds will eat you up inside. Forget about me for the moment."

"I… don't say things like that," Clara was upset at this turn of events.

"But I need to, because you won't listen to anybody else, and I don't want you to regret things in the future. Just… don't take him for granted. Savour everything, okay?" Clara said nothing. "Promise me."

"Promise you I won't think about you?"

"It'll be easier than you know. Make memories with him that we can look back on together when you miss him the most."

"I…"

"Promise," she implored.

"I promise…" said Clara brokenly. The Doctor breathed a sigh of relief. The song went on and Clara leant her head on the Doctor's, closing her eyes.

"You're not going to try and steal a kiss, are you?"

"Mm, don't tempt me." The Doctor said nothing, she was waiting for a real answer. "…I won't. You're right, I would have an 'emotional crisis.' It's funny, though, because I've spent the last few weeks trying to forget about you like you want, and now you're throwing it all in my face."

"I know. I'm sorry, Coo, but I really am on an important mission. Catch me up on what's being going on since I left, though," she entreated. Clara sighed and moved away from her a little, though they kept swaying gently to the music.

"But you've already lived through it. Maybe you should tell me what's been happening with you."

"Very little," she lied, "C'mon. I'll pretend I don't know."

"Well, Ten and Rose got married," said Clara. She laughed.

"Really? When did that happen?"

"A few hours ago."

"I wish I could've been there."

"The party was the best bit. A very attractive stranger appeared and manipulated me into dancing with her."

"Sounds like a cad – you shouldn't give her the time of day," she smirked.

"Got kidnapped by pirates? Don't know how much you remember about that. Turned out to be Missy pulling some ridiculous scheme. Oh – Martha's pregnant."

"So I recall."

"You can't give me any spoilers about that, can you?"

"Ooh, like what?"

"I don't know… will she be alright?"

She smiled softly, "She'll be fine. And so will the baby. Has to be in my top five babies – maybe even number one."

"Sometimes I forget how weird you are."

"The song's over," she said after a moment, "It's nearly time for me to leave." She let go of Clara and took a step back, leaving Clara watching her listlessly.

"But what was your message?"

The Doctor said nothing, just stopped and listened, until she heard somebody shouting in a sing-song voice: "Cla-ra!" called the Eleventh Doctor, having just left the reception hall in search of her. Clara was startled.

"You should go," Clara whispered, beginning to panic.

"My message is for both of you. Both of us, I should say. But don't worry," she lowered her voice even more, "He doesn't have to know that we were flirting." She winked at Clara. Eleven stuck his head around the corner of the building.

"There you are – our presence has been requested for…" he trailed off when he saw Thirteen lurking there, breathing out clouds of condensation in the cold. He frowned and his mood shifted. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm nothing but a humble messenger," she said, "Just got here a second ago, in time to catch her smoking."

"Did you have to grass me up?" Clara counted. Thirteen shrugged. Clara turned back to her husband, "What's going on?"

"…Sally wanted me to come and get you. She wants to take her last photos of the night and she wants everybody in them," he explained, then added to Thirteen, "I'm not sure you're invited."

"If you're there, I'm there," she said. "That's how time travel works, I don't know if you're familiar with the concept."

"Stop now, children," Clara said when Eleven was about to argue with her. She spoke to Eleven, "She says she has a message for us, and that she's going to leave afterwards, okay? You don't have to start dick measuring."

"Mine's bigger," said Thirteen.

"You don't even-" Eleven began.

"I said stop," Clara nearly had to shout. To Thirteen she said, "You're on your last warning."

"Okay." She fumbled around in the small bag she was carrying, the same one she'd had the silver lighter in, and drew out a notepad and a pen. "So, you two need to come back here in the future and deal with a little… problem…" She scribbled on the page.

"When?" asked Eleven.

"Uh… hm. A week after the birthday Clara has where Oswin gives her a tricked-out Roomba. Just remember, look for the Roomba, okay? But don't tell that to Oswin or time will be irreparably damaged. And don't hold your breath, either, it's not for a long time. Look for the Roomba."

"Alright, fine, 'look for the Roomba,'" Clara repeated. Thirteen tore off a sheet of notepaper and handed it to Clara. All that was written on it were the words: 'Geiger counter – cellar.'

"I don't understand, what's in the cellar?"

"You'll find out," said Thirteen, "Just not for a while."

"It had better be worth the wait," grumbled Eleven.

"Oh, I assure you, I am," she smiled at Clara again.

"You're incorrigible, be quiet," said Clara.

"Well. If that's everything?" said Eleven, who was desperate to be shot of her. "Sally was very specific about these photos."

"It's a good photo." They both looked at her, waiting for her to make her move to leave. "I need to hang around for a few more seconds. Shouldn't be long now."

"Why? What are you waiting for?" Clara asked.

"Old friends, that's all." She was being cryptic enough that they stuck around – though of course, she knew they would – and not a moment too soon they heard the noise of the heavy door opening, the music inside the hotel briefly grew louder and voices approached. It was Mickey and Martha, bickering with each other about what Clara and Eleven could possibly be doing out there in the middle of the night; they, too, had been sent on a fetch quest courtesy of Sally Sparrow.

"Clara?" called Martha, "Are you out here?"

"Just around the corner," Clara responded.

"What are you doing? Sally's in a mood, you need to come for the…" Martha stopped dead when she rounded the corner and saw Thirteen standing there in the moonlight.

"She's just delivering cryptic hints about the future," said Clara.

"You're here?" Martha stared at her.

"Yeah. It's good to see you." The others didn't know it, but Thirteen's hearts were breaking at the sight of Matilda's parents there in the flesh. Once Martha was over her shock she pushed through Clara and Eleven and threw her arms around Thirteen in a warm hug. "Careful, you'll burn me."

"Did you really mean it? What you told Oswin?" Martha asked tearfully when she let Thirteen go. "Will the baby be alright?"

"More than alright," Thirteen assured her, "You can trust me. You don't have anything to worry about." Martha hugged her again and the Doctor hugged her back, the memory of their funeral suddenly vivid in her mind. It took everything in her not to cry as well.

"Is it a girl or a boy?" Mickey asked, walking around Clara and Eleven, who sank into the shadows now the situation didn't revolve around them.

"Mickey," Martha told him off, "You can't ask that."

"It's fine – do you want to know? I'll tell you, if you do," said Thirteen.

"I…" Martha was struck by the dilemma. She turned to look at Mickey, relinquishing Thirteen for the second time.

"We'll find out sooner or later," he said. "At least there would be one thing we'd know for certain."

"Then… okay. If you can tell us," Martha relented, knowing she wouldn't get another chance to ask. Thirteen knew that this was the last time she was ever going to see Martha Jones and Mickey Smith, and she wanted to give them some comfort before she left.

"It's a girl. She's wonderful. You'll be so proud of her."

"Thank you. Thank you, so much, for everything," Martha said.

"It's the least I can do. But, you four should hurry along. If I know Sally, she won't like if you keep her waiting any longer," she said, "Go, take your picture, and don't worry so much."

"Thanks, Doctor," said Mickey, taking Martha's hand.

"Don't mention it," she smiled, holding up her hand to wave as they left, "Say 'hi' to the little one for me in eight months' time."

"We will!" said Martha. Eleven and Clara lingered a few seconds more.

"Is this the last time I'll see you? Until…" Clara began.

"No. You see me every day, I'm right by your side," she indicated Eleven. "But, if you must know, you're waiting for me in the trees right now. It won't be more than a few minutes until we're reunited." Clara smiled, but they still didn't move. "Go, Sally means business where her camera is concerned."

"Okay, okay," Clara took Eleven's hand and he made to walk away, "Goodbye, Doctor."

"I'll see you around, Coo." Thirteen turned to leave, walking in the opposite direction towards the forest, and began to sing to herself, "We'll… meet again… don't know where… don't know when… but I know we'll meet again, some sunny day…" Clara and Eleven disappeared into the building again and Thirteen crossed her arms against the cold, still humming Vera Lynn as she meandered back into the woods. She had tears in the corner of her eyes and sniffed, wiping them away. Mickey and Martha… and she wouldn't see them again. Far from delivering her message about the cellar, that was the thing that wouldn't leave her thoughts.

It didn't take long for the Doctor to make her way back to the bright blue camper van, where Clara had already finished packing their things away so that they could leave. She was in the cab trying to keep warm, but she rolled the window down when she spotted the Doctor approaching.

"You were wrong," she said.

"Excuse me?"

"All those years ago. You were wrong. Look," she nodded at the sky, "It's not a sunny day at all. It's the middle of the night. What other lies have you told me?" She smiled sadly, ambling across the frozen mud to get to the passenger door on the far side of the van. "You okay?" Clara asked when she shut the door, breathing a sigh of relief to finally be out of the cold.

"It was hard to see them again."

"Harder for Mattie to be somewhere else entirely."

"I don't doubt that."

"Are you ready to go?" she asked gently.

"No. Let's stay a while longer. It's the last night together, after all; by tomorrow morning, everything will have changed. Do you mind?"

"Of course not," said Clara, "We could watch a film. Do you fancy Kubrick?" The Doctor had to laugh. "You know, fifty years ago you told me I'd hate you for being too on-the-nose with the music."

"And?"

"I hate you, and you were too on-the-nose with the music."

"…I love you, too."